by Curtis Bunn
Solomon spent that first day with Gerald, which was great because not only did they reinforce their bond, but it also kept his mind occupied. By the time they were done shopping, playing basketball in the driveway, eating dinner and playing a golf videogame, little Gerald was exhausted.
He fell asleep on his favorite movie, Remember The Titans. Solomon let him sleep on the couch; Gerald considered that somewhat of an adventure since his mom forbade him from doing so. He also let him have a Pepsi, which Michele did not allow, and a Whopper from Burger King. He was doing all that out of spite for Michele.
With Gerald asleep, Solomon had no other distractions and had to face the reality of his choice. Just as he was beginning to contemplate how to resolve the matter with Michele, he received a text message on his phone.
He hoped it was Michele. Instead, it was Cheryl, one of the women he had been seeing before Michele. Worse, Cheryl being Cheryl, it not only was a text, but a photo, too.
“You don’t miss this?” was the text below a photo of her from the waist down in a G-string.
“Damn,” Solomon said, observing her shapely physique. He met Cheryl after a night of partying in Buckhead about eighteen months earlier. He and a friend, Paul, sought food at Waffle House on Piedmont around 3 a.m. to soak up some of the alcohol they consumed at Tongue & Groove.
Paul started talking to a woman, Millie, among a group of three at the table next to them. The discussion was playful and lively. Solomon and Cheryl just observed and laughed. When the ladies were leaving, Cheryl said to Millie, “You need to give him your number. I’ve never seen a man who has time enough for you. But he does.”
Millie said, “Well, you need to give your number to him,” pointing to Solomon. Cheryl was more interested in getting her friend connected with Paul than she was in Solomon, but she gave up her phone number to get Millie to give up hers.
Solomon was insulted that Cheryl seemed unexcited about meeting him, which made him determined to turn around her feelings. So, he called her a few days later. They went out on several dates, and he could see how intrigued Cheryl grew. Still, he never made an attempt to so much as kiss her.
Finally, after about six weeks of dates that ended with him dropping her off, Cheryl had enough.
“Why won’t you at least kiss me?” she asked.
“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” he said. “I can recall when we met that night, you didn’t even want to give me your number. Your friend basically had to bargain for you to give it to me. So, I didn’t think you were interested.”
“What?” Cheryl said. “If I didn’t want you to have my number, you wouldn’t have gotten it. You’ve been thinking that all this time?”
Solomon did not answer her; not with words. He leaned over and kissed her deeply, and their adventurous sex life began. At the movies, in the parking lot, in the restaurant bathroom were just a few of the places Solomon and Cheryl expressed their sexual appetites.
So, he was hardly surprised to see a provocative photo from her.
He sent her a text message back that read: “Nice body. Who is this?”
“Don’t be funny,” she wrote back.
“No doubt. And I do miss it and u. But...” Solomon answered.
“But what?”
“But things have been different with me.”
“Wanna talk about it?” she wrote.
Solomon made sure Gerald was nice and comfortable on the couch before he went upstairs and closed the door to his room. Then he called Cheryl.
“Wow, an actual phone call from Mr. Singletary. I can’t believe it,” she said upon answering. “You’ve been a ghost.”
“I’m sorry, Cheryl. Nothing personal. Just a lot going on that I’ve had to deal with.”
“I figured as much, since you couldn’t even make time for me.” She paused. “What’s going on? A woman, right?”
“What else?”
“See, that’s where you messed up,” she said. “I’m not here to cause you any drama. I’m like you; let’s just keep it moving. I could’ve made you feel better when she was making you feel bad.”
That was Cheryl; always on the ready, never hung up about anything. Shortly after they met, Solomon told her he did not want a “relationship.” She responded: “Who said I did? Relationships mean drama to me, and I don’t want any of it. So let’s just enjoy each other when we can. Deal?”
That deal was too good to be true, but Cheryl never gave Solomon any grief, only pleasure. She was five-foot-seven with a lean, strong body. No breasts to speak of, but hips and ass that looked to be child-bearing. Her innocent, slightly freckled face belied her freaky nature.
“So what’s the problem with the woman?” she inquired.
It was such a good question that Solomon did not know how to answer. Then it came to him.
“I love her. That’s the problem.”
“Damn, that IS a problem,” Cheryl said. “You’re not the ‘I love her’ type. I know men. I’ve dealt with all kinds. You’re the ‘I love her and leave her’ type. That’s you.
“For you to say that is a big thing, Solomon. You don’t know how to handle being in love, do you? It’s not easy because human nature makes it that she will piss you off or disappoint you. Then what do you do?”
“Exactly,” he said. “My instincts are to just say ‘to hell with it.’ But another part of me is against that. And I’ve never had two parts of me pulling against each other. It was always the whole me saying, ‘I’m gone.’”
“Why don’t you let me come over and take your mind off all this?” Cheryl was not serious; it was a test to see if Solomon really was about Michele.
“You know there was a time when I would’ve been all over that offer,” Solomon said. “But, while I know physically that would make me feel great, inside it wouldn’t be right. I’m pissed off at her right now, but I still can’t go outside the relationship.”
“If I were an egomaniac, I would be hurt,” Cheryl said. “But I’m very confident in myself; and I’m proud of you. I wasn’t serious about coming over there. I was seeing if you really, really were in love. Some men, whether in love or not, would still jump at the chance to get something extra.
“But you, Solomon, you’ve always been straight up. So, I knew if you were straight up with me before, you would be straight up with her. That’s why I’ve barely heard from you; you’ve been building this relationship. Last thing you need is to be frolicking around—emphasis on licking—with me. We did some wild stuff, but they’re merely good memories now.
“I wish you the best.”
“Cheryl, you surprise me,” Solomon said. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so...understanding and helpful. You’re a good person. I just...in this case...thought you’d—”
“You thought I’d be upset that you told me you didn’t want to be tied down, but now you’re tied down? It’s hard for me to be selfish when a man tells me that he’s in love. I respect that and I wish you the best... If it doesn’t work out, you know who to call.”
“Before we go, I have something else to tell you about this situation,” Solomon said. “I have a son. She—Michele—is the mother of my son.”
He went on to explain the circumstances of how he learned of Gerald and how they developed a bond.
“I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of kook, and I don’t even know the woman, but you and her were destined to be together,” Cheryl said. “Think about your history with her. There’s something in me that tells me you and her will be all right. You have a family, Solomon.”
“I can’t go that far,” he said. “We have a son together and some issues in a relationship. Other than that, I cannot say.”
“I’ve got to go, Solomon, but let me ask you this one question: Do you want more? Answer that question and you can tell—and determine—your future.”
CHAPTER 23
HOME ALONE-LY
No one asked Michele her thoughts on what she wanted with Solomon, but she
had an answer: Everything.
Her cousin was right; her life had been far less than what she desired. She encountered men who lacked integrity, manners, depth…meaning they lacked overall appeal. Solomon, even with his borderline arrogance, still managed to be humble and chivalrous and thoughtful and passionate.
That last trait covered her like a rash that first night he left with Gerald. Suddenly, it came down on her, even amid her disappointment and confusion about him and their relationship, even after Sonya hung up on her in fury.
Michele lay in bed in total darkness and in heat. Her body craved his touch. She needed to feel his body, to smell his cologne, to hear his moans. All this was a first. A man had seldom pleased her to where the thought of him caused her the wetness she experienced that night.
It got worse as she could not stop her brain from revisiting their most recent encounter a few nights before. They went out to dinner at One Midtown Kitchen, near Piedmont Park. It was a slow Sunday night, and they posted up at the empty bar for cocktails and dinner and more cocktails.
That same sensation she had was over her at the bar. She asked Solomon to move his barstool closer to her, which he did. She leaned over and kissed him on his face, and he smiled, turned his head and kissed her on the lips.
“You’re sexy,” he said.
“I feel sexy,” she said. “And horny.”
“Really?” Solomon responded. He reached over and began rubbing her thighs. She pulled up her skirt so she could feel his hands on her skin. The more he rubbed, the higher she pulled her skirt up, until he had his hand deep between her legs. She wore no panties.
He could feel the heat coming from her insides. “You are horny, aren’t you?”
Solomon turned from Michele to see where the bartender was; she was at the other end of the bar talking to a co-worker. The few people in the restaurant had no clear visual of them. So, Solomon eased his hands closer to the heat, and Michele spread her legs, inviting him to enter her with his finger.
He did, and the warm moisture in her covered his middle finger like lava. He slid his finger in deeper, rotating it, and Michele momentarily forgot where she was and threw her head back.
“Oh, God,” she said.
She composed herself, but they were so lost in their pleasure moment that they did not see the bartender walk down to check on them. Before he could pull out, she was standing there, so he kept his finger in her and they acted, as best they could, as if everything was perfectly normal.
“No, we’re fine right now,” Solomon said to her.
“Maybe in a few minutes we’ll have another drink,” Michele managed to get out.
“Okay,” the woman answered. “I’ll check on you shortly.” She went back to the end of the bar. And they went back to what they were doing. Finally, the awkward position caused Solomon’s arm to ache, so he dislodged his finger from her hotness.
“Oh, my God,” Michele said. “I need some water.”
“You need to meet me in the bathroom.”
“What?”
“They have individual bathrooms here. We can go in there. I can’t wait to get home; I need to feel you now.”
Michele did not offer any resistance. The suggestion actually excited her. They finished their drinks and some appetizers and paid the bill. Then they walked around the wall on the opposite side of the dining room to the bathroom.
“I’m going in first,” Michele said. “Then I’ll call you to come join me.”
Solomon took a seat in the small waiting area; a minute later, he heard his name.
He entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Michele leaned on the counter and pulled up her skirt, exposing her round ass. Solomon dropped his pants swiftly and pulled out what Michele affectionately called his pulsating “injection stick.”
He slowly injected Michele, and her moans grew louder the deeper he got. She bounced back and forth, taking as much as she could, and he countered by thrusting forward to the same rhythm. They watched each other in the mirror making love and at one point laughed at the faces such pleasure produced.
She bent over lower, to receive more of him, and he widened his stance to get deeper. They were trying to be as quiet as possible, but Solomon could not resist the urge to smack Michele on her ass, which she loved.
After nearly ten minutes of nonstop stroking, Solomon was dripping in sweat—and ecstasy—and climaxed with a force that pushed Michele almost into the sink. Still, he continued to stroke her, even as his legs weakened.
“You’re crazy,” she said as they cleaned up. “Look at what you have me doing. I’m going to tell my momma.”
They laughed.
“Tell your daddy,” Solomon said. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear about this.”
They laughed some more. Solomon fixed his clothes and peeked out of the bathroom to make sure no one was there. Michele came out a few minutes later and they walked out of the restaurant into the warm night air, feeling exhilarated.
That recollection caused Michele a restless night. Not only because it was so on fire, but also because it forced her to think about a man in ways she had not. She had told her book club members about how good, consistent sex had changed her life.
She wondered in the darkness if she could go back to living without it. And that fed right into her lack of confidence about her instincts. Was it shallow to build a relationship around amazing sex? Was she even doing that?
Michele had always thought of sex as a natural part of a relationship, not a necessity, which spoke to something significant: no one had ever really pleased her in bed. So, other things mattered more: financial security; honesty; ambition. But she made the hard admission to herself that if the sex was not banging, she’d be tempted to search for the bang.
I can’t even believe I’m saying this, even if it is to myself, she thought. Then she thought, If I can’t be honest with myself, then who can I?
The answer was her cousin, Sonya. That was another reason she was restless. Although it was nearly two in the morning, she called Sonya, who was more like a sister. Having her upset was something that did not digest well for Michele.
In a sleepy voice, Sonya answered her phone saying, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, cousin,” Michele said. “I know you love me and are looking out for me. I really didn’t mean to offend you. Also, I’m not kissing your ass.”
Sonya could not help but laugh.
“What are you doing up, girl? What time is it?”
“I’m tormented. Solomon is tormenting me,” Michele said.
“How? What’s he doing? He’s there?” Sonya asked.
“No, he’s home with Gerald,” she answered. “But he’s also here with me, in my bed; if you know what I mean.”
Sonya was puzzled for a moment. “Oh... OH!!” she said finally. “Okay, I get it.”
“I need it, Sonya,” she said. “This isn’t the first time in my life that I’ve been horny. But since I’ve been with him, it’s the first time I specifically wanted a particular man. Before, it was just that I would like to have been touched and seduced by a man. Or maybe Denzel, but he doesn’t count. With Solomon, I have these experiences I can draw from that are driving me crazy.”
“Why don’t you call the man?” Sonya suggested. “Simple solution.”
“I know,” Michele said. “But I can’t do that. Not right now. Maybe I’m delaying the inevitable, but I’m not sure how I feel about all this stuff that has taken place.
“He’s mad at me. I didn’t tell him I was once married and he said I think he’s an abuser. I’m mad at him because he beat my son, first and foremost, and he smacked this woman.
“He’s not giving in and I’m not giving in. So I don’t know where that leaves us.”
Where that left her was home alone; a lot. Solomon was just as stubborn and just as adamant about his position. So, even though he missed Michele, he refused to call her or have any contact with her.
He pu
t Gerald in the middle of communication with Michele, having his son tell his mom when his dad would pick him up from school and spend time with him on weekends. Their bond grew despite Solomon’s absence from Michele’s life.
The kid was too young to notice that his parents had not been in the same room together for nearly a month.
Every day, they both hoped the other one would crack; give in and make a phone call or send a text that would restart their relationship. But they were equally yoked when it came to stubbornness.
Solomon surprised himself; he did not go on a woman-chasing spree. Rather, he worked, played golf, spent time with Gerald and generally made himself available should Michele call him.
“Mexican standoff,” he told one of his college friends, Kenny, who visited for a weekend from Charlotte.
“While you’re standing off, you don’t have to stand still, playa,” he said to Solomon. “I ain’t come here to listen to you moan about your girl. I came here to get in the mix, see what I can come up with. So, where the hell we going?”
It was a Friday night, so there were plenty of options. Solomon decided on The Lobby Bar at the 12 Hotel at Atlantic Station. It was a lively spot with a live band and a vast collection of fine women.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Kenny said, heading to the bar while observing all the beautiful available female talent. By the time Solomon returned from the bathroom, Kenny was holding court with four women. That was his way. He was shorter than six feet and plump, good-looking but not striking. He had a personality that drew people in. He was loud and inviting. You would either appreciate it or be offended by it. Kenny hardly cared, either way.
“Hey, you lucky I’m hanging out with you,” he said to Solomon as they girl-watched. “I usually don’t hang with tall, good-looking guys. What I need competition for?”
Solomon laughed. “You know you’re stupid, right?”
“I’m just saying,” Kenny added. “I’m short, going bald and fat. Just like big girls need love, so do guys like me.”
One of four ladies he chatted up earlier waved for Kenny to come over to their table to the left of the bar and up against the floor-to-ceiling window. She did not have to wave twice.
