Beauty and the Beast

by Deatri King Bey

  “That’s my baby,” he whispered as he suckled from her collarbone, along her neck, below her chin.

  The veil seemed to move on its own as his mouth found hers. Worried the dream might end, she closed her eyes and indulged in the succulence of her fire ninja.

  Unable to resist any longer, she looped her arms under his and over his shoulders, then pulled gently until he entered her heat. Their rhythm started, slow and steady. He fulfilled her every want and need. As they increased their pace, she thought they’d combust.

  Groans escaped him as he drove in harder, deeper.

  “Oh, Bruce.” A tingling started between her legs and spiraled out of control. She wrapped her legs around his thighs.

  The headboard of the bed banged against the wall. The box spring squeaked as if it would break, but neither could stop.

  She felt her muscles tightening around him and cried out, “Bruce!” She gripped the mattress.

  He threw his head back. “Aaauuuugh!” he roared.

  The feel of him hitting his climax pushed her into supernova. Her eyes flew open.

  Nefertiti had moved the plush armchairs from her sitting area to the front of the bed. The room was plenty large enough that the rearrangement didn’t look cluttered. She wasn’t sure what to think about Dr. Herman yet. The small, middle-aged man sat across from her in khaki pants and a white polo shirt. His full head of dark hair had a few gray strands in it. He was easy to talk to, but he wasn’t so giving on his end.

  “And what about your father?” Dr. Herman asked.

  She stiffened. They’d already discussed her vicious mood swings and what triggered them—just about everything. In a way, she was grateful for the new twists added to the swings. Before Bruce came home, her mood had swung between depression, disheartenment, and disgust, but now, thankfully, laughter, love, and lust were thrown into the mix. If she could only exchange the Ds for the Ls, she’d be good to go.

  She was presently telling Dr. Herman about the reactions she’d received from various people regarding her new look and had skipped her father. “What about him?” she said defensively.

  “Your aunt Victoria says you’d like to speak with me about him.”

  “Traitor,” she grumbled.

  His smile was the deciding vote. She liked him. She picked at the non-existent lint on her indigo skirt. The chain around her ankle brought Bruce to her mind. They’d actually made love, but sadness had come out of it.

  “Tell me about your father.”

  “What is there to tell? He was my hero. Now he doesn’t want to be my hero.”

  “What was your relationship with him like before the attack?”

  “Daddy” was her first word. When she was three, she named her little female kitten Daddy after him. When she was seven, she took him to school for show and tell. When she was nine, he helped her skip school for a trip to the Chicago Art Institute. When she was eleven, he was the one she went to when she started her monthly cycle. When she was twelve, he was the first one she told that she’d marry Bruce Maxwell some day. When anything came up in her life, he was the one she turned to.

  “I guess you could say we were close.”

  “And what are you now?”

  “Two people living separate lives.” She twisted the amber ring on her finger.

  “Why?”

  Head cocked to the side, she asked, “Why what?”

  “Why live separate lives?”

  She changed her mind. She didn’t like Dr. Herman after all. “Because he doesn’t want me!” She walked over to the window. “I won’t force myself on anyone.”

  “Why do you think he is so distant?”

  “Why do you ask so many damn questions? Why don’t you have any answers?”

  He remained seated as he calmly said, “I don’t know your father. The answers you seek are within you. Do you honestly believe your hero has turned his back on you?”

  Shoulders hunched, she admitted, “I don’t know. All I know is he couldn’t stand the sight of me. And now Bruce…” She trailed off. “What was I thinking?”

  “How does Bruce fit into the equation?”

  “My father and the man I’m in love with can’t stand the sight of me, that’s how.” She leaned her head against the window.

  “From what I’ve heard, Bruce is quite taken with you.”

  “Oh really.” She approached the doctor. “Then why did he make love to me in that bed right there,” she pointed to the bed, “without opening his eyes.” After a quick shower, she’d straightened the room and changed the linen.

  Dr. Herman cleared his throat and adjusted the notepad on his lap.

  “When he first kissed my belly, I didn’t think anything of it. Then I stopped paying attention.” She hated to admit it, but she had been lost in lust. She hadn’t had sex in over six months, and there she was with the man of her dreams. She didn’t trust her judgment regarding his actions and reactions. For all she knew, he was caught up in lust as much as she was. After all, he’d tried to bed her when she’d brought him dinner. So he wouldn’t have to see her scars, he’d suggested turning off the light.

  She stilled her shaky voice. “As he suckled my neck, I happened to notice his eyes were closed. Then I closed my eyes; and when we hit our climax, I opened my eyes, and his were still closed.”

  “Wait a second.” From the edge of his chair he asked, “Are you saying you had your eyes closed also? Yet you’re angry he had his eyes closed.”

  She smiled at his momentary loss of objectivity. “The difference is he knows I’m afraid of seeing his reaction to the scars on my face. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see the reaction.” She returned to her seat. “Now I don’t know what’s worse, seeing his reaction or the fact that he won’t even look me in the face.”

  “You may be misinterpreting things with your father and Bruce. You need to tell them how you feel. Even if they say what you don’t want to hear, you’ll be better off.”

  “Humph, better off. I hate that saying.” She curled her bare feet underneath her skirt and leaned on the arm of the chair. “Did I tell you my nurse said I was ‘better off’ than the woman in the room next to mine? She’d fallen off her horse and broken her back.” She drew her hands to her chest. “Don’t get me wrong. My heart goes out to her. She’s paralyzed and may never walk again. But Nurse Feel Good was saying that I have no room to complain because I’m ‘better off’ than others. ‘Your injuries are only cosmetic. At least you can walk and have been given your sight back,’ she said.”

  He covered his cringe a tad bit too late.

  “Yeah, I can see all right.” She traced the marks on her veiled face with her gloved fingers. “I saw people’s reaction to me when I didn’t have my veil, and it hurt. People say looks don’t matter, but then show that they do. I can see that people treat me differently, but expect me to react as if nothing has changed.”

  “Sometimes people say things in hopes of lifting the other’s spirit or out of nervousness and end up being completely insensitive. My mother lost her battle with breast cancer a few years back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m fine now, but you’d be shocked at how many people said, ‘At least she’s in a better place,’ or ‘At least she isn’t suffering anymore.’ Technically, they were correct, and I know they were only trying to help, but I’d just lost my mother. Sometimes there are no words to help ease a person’s grief.”

  “I’ve been watching the news about the tornado relief going on in Macon County, and I feel so guilty.” Twenty-seven tornadoes had ravaged much of central Illinois, leaving death and destruction in their wake. “Those people lost their homes, and many lost loved ones. They literally lost everything, yet here I sit in this mansion complaining because I’m not beautiful. I get so disgusted with myself.” A nervous chill tickled her. “I’ve always donated to the Salvation Army and such, but since the attack… Well, let’s just say I think the folks down at the Salvation Army love
me.” She tsked. “When did I become so vain?”

  “You’re not complaining about a pimple on your nose. A madman carved a design into your face and marked your body. Anyone who hasn’t been where you are has no idea what you’re going through. And comparing your battle wounds with those of others is a waste of time. You’re not being overly vain. How do you think ‘Nurse Feel Good’ would react if she had been carved up?”

  The more Dr. Herman spoke, the more she liked him. “I don’t think she’d be feeling ‘better off’ for sure.”

  “Hell, I’ve decided that women are just out of their minds,” Bruce said to Dr. Herman, who sat at Bruce’s home office desk. “Did Nefertiti say anything about me?”

  “I’d never break confidentiality. Why do you think women are out of their minds?”

  “Because they are,” he answered from the window. Below he could see Nefertiti fanning herself and reading in the oriental rock garden. She’d taken off the gloves and was wearing the purple skirt and blouse he’d seen her in this morning. “I’ve been in love with Nefertiti for at least twenty years. Well, this afternoon we made love for the first time, and it was… spiritual.” He ran his hands over his close-shaven head. “Afterwards she started tripping.” He glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. “She apologized and said she regretted what we’d just shared, then kicked me out of her room. Can you believe that?”

  “Do you have any clue about what triggered her reaction?”

  “Besides women being crazy, no.”

  “What were you doing prior to her mood swing?”

  “Making love to her!” He flung his arms in the air. “I went out of my way to ensure she felt comfortable.”

  “How?”

  “Damn, you ask a lot of questions.” For a second he thought he saw the traces of a smile touch Dr. Herman’s lips. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out, Nefertiti is shy about people seeing her body, so I closed my eyes.” An odd pride filled him in the fact that she’d allowed him to see the scarring on her hands, arms, and upper chest. “You have no idea how hard it was for me not to open them. I did a few times, and thank God she wasn’t looking at me. She would have been mortified.”

  The brief quandary on the doctor’s face confused Bruce. Dr. Herman tapped the end of his pen on his chin. “Has she told you anything about her father?”

  “No, but Auntie Vic told me what happened this morning.” He settled in one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk. “What does Uncle Nathan being an ass have to do with me?” He chuckled. “Well, I’m an ass also, but damn.” He picked at the studs on the arm of the chair. “Hell, I’ll go down there this weekend and haul him up my damn self. I was furious when Auntie told me he’s been avoiding Nefertiti.”

  “How would you feel if your mother only came to see you because she was forced to?”

  Bruce gripped the arms of the chair. The only times Alexis “visited” Bruce were when she wanted something. Rejection stabbed at his heart. “Forcing Uncle Nathan to visit Nefertiti would make things worse for her.”

  “They were close. Why do you think he hasn’t contacted her?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” He smoothed down his mustache and goatee. “All I know is my beauty is hurting, and I don’t know how to stop her pain.”

  “What reason does Nefertiti give for her father’s absence?”

  “You should have spoken to Auntie before your session with Nefertiti. You’d know all of this. She thinks her scarring keeps him away, that he can’t stand to look at her.”

  Dr. Herman tapped the end of his pen on his chin and nodded slightly. “Umm-hmm. I guess that would be a logical conclusion for her.”

  “That’s nonsense. He loves her to death. I don’t know what his problem is, but it’s not the scars.”

  “And why did you make love to her with your eyes closed? Are you sure you were protecting her and not yourself?”

  “Of course I was protecting her!” He stomped as he stood, but Dr. Herman didn’t flinch. “I love her. Hell. I’ve seen all of her scars. She’s the one with the problem, not me.”

  “You’ve seen all of her scars?” His paused. “Including those on her face?”

  “She doesn’t know, but yeah.”

  “Did you tell her why you kept your eyes closed while you were making love?”

  “I don’t think she noticed. We were kind of busy at the time.”

  “Given how she believes her father can’t stand the sight of her, what would she think if she did notice?”

  A few moments of silence passed as Bruce considered the doctor’s words. “Son of a bitch!” He knocked the inbox off his desk. Papers scattered across the floor. “She thinks I can’t stand the sight of her, doesn’t she?”

  Dr. Herman, still seemingly unaffected by Bruce’s behavior, wrote a few notes as he said, “That is a logical conclusion she could draw.”

  Bruce chuckled. “I like you, doc.” The man never had answers, but he sure had a way of plucking answers out of his patients. He stooped down and picked the papers off the floor. “I’m in a catch-twenty-two. She doesn’t want me to look at her, but if I don’t look at her, she’ll get the wrong idea. I can’t win.”

  “What would happen if she knew you’ve seen her?”

  “I doubt she’d believe me. Or even worse, she’d ask me why I didn’t say something.” He placed the papers on his desk.

  “What was your reaction?”

  “I practically tripped over myself running out the room.” He retrieved the inbox from the floor. “Maybe I wasn’t that bad, but I was so angry. I knew she’d misinterpret my reaction, so I left before she realized I was there.” He set the inbox on his desk. “No. I can’t let her know I’ve seen her. She’d never believe my explanation.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “I don’t know, but the next time we make love it will definitely be with my eyes open.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  I’m going to ruin these “better off” eyes. Nefertiti marked her page with her mail, closed the book, and leaned back on the wooden bench. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, God, but my emotions are all over the place. And sometimes… Sometimes it’s so hard to see what’s going right.

  The warm magentas, oranges, and violets of the setting sun comforted her weary mind. Thank you for allowing me to see another sunset. The wind kicked up and blew to the ground the newsletter she’d received in the mail from the DuSable Museum of African-American History. She set her book to the side and picked up the letter. The museum was hosting an exhibit featuring works from great African-American artists, such as Romare Bearden, Aaron Douglas and Jacob Lawrence. The pieces she’d donated by Claude Clark would even be there.

  “Hey, sexy lady.”

  She jumped slightly. “Go away, Bruce.” Dr. Herman had a point; with all she’d been going through, she could be misinterpreting things with both Bruce and her father. Now she didn’t know what to do. Uncertainty had never been a part of her life before the attack, but now uncertainty accompanied her every step.

  “No.” He sat on the brick-paved ground in front of her.

  “You make me sick.” She lifted her skirt slightly, crossed her legs Indian style, then lowered her skirt. After his shower, he’d dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt that drew her like a bull to the matador’s flag. With the way he’d made love to her so expertly this afternoon, she wasn’t sure how she’d resist if he pursued. Yet another uncertainty.

  “Why are you mad at me?” The glint in his eyes had devil written all over it.

  “I’m not mad at you,” she answered, which was the truth. She was angry with herself for believing in fairy tales. No “happily ever after” existed for her and Bruce. She couldn’t expect him to do something her own father wouldn’t. “Next week there’s an exhibit at the DuSable Museum I want to see. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “Of course. Tell Janis the time, and she’ll rearrange my schedule. Tell her we’re making a day of it.” He
moved restlessly. “I don’t know what I was thinking sitting down here. These bricks are hard as hell.” He pulled her up as he stood. “Grab your book and let’s go.”

  Glad he’d allowed her to change the subject, she placed the newsletter in her book with the other mail.

  They walked hand-in-hand along the path, and the world momentarily felt right again.

  “Now back to the subject.”

  She craned her neck up and narrowed her eyes on him. Curses, foiled again!

  As if he’d read her mind, he said, “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. We made love this afternoon. But I did something to scare you away.”

  The love and care in his eyes spoke volumes. How will you look at me when I don’t have the veil? “It’s not you, Bruce. I’m just not ready.”

  “What do you think of Dr. Herman?” They exited the oriental rock garden and continued across the grass toward the creek.

  The change of subject gave her pause. “I liked him.” The sun was almost down, yet the air remained hot and muggy.

  “Me, too. His questions usually get on my nerves, but he has a way of helping me find answers myself.” He stopped. “It will be more comfortable out here.” He sat on the ground and pulled her down into his lap.

  She squealed at the unexpected movement and dropped the book. With her back against his powerful chest, he wrapped his arms around her. The August heat was nothing compared to the heat of his embrace.

  “This has bad idea written all over it,” she murmured as he nibbled on her neck. “Would you stop that? I can’t think clearly with you… Just stop. We won’t have a repeat performance of this afternoon.”

  “I want to make love with you again, right now.” His hands slipped around her and rested on her thighs.

  She leapt out of his lap and turned on him. This was one time he wouldn’t get his way. “Bruce! We’re out in the open.”

  For a big man, he was awfully fast. Before she knew it, she was on her back, and he was lying half on her, caressing her waist and thighs with his powerful hands. “So you’d let me make love to you if we weren’t out in the open. I can live with that.”