“And you deserve it, Yvette. You’re such a hard worker.”
“Hell, all of my adult life has been dedicated to gaining economic independence and some sense of professional parity with men. I just look forward to the day I can share my success and my love with someone deserving of it, that’s all.”
“And what woman wouldn't?” Juanita replied. “Besides, what man wouldn’t consider you a great catch? You’re young and gifted, attractive, and if you want to ask me, too damn sexy for yourself. You’re intelligent as any man or woman, too, for that matter. You know, I think marriage would suit you well.”
“Why thank you. There’s only one problem, Juanita.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not ready nor am I interested in a serious relationship at this time. Perhaps something on the casual level, at best.”
“Just a little something on the casual level, huh.” Juanita echoed.
“Yes! Listen, I love my independence and more than anything. And I’ve worked hard for it. I just think men have a knack of getting in the way of that. Honestly, I’m quite comfortable with the way things are in my life now.”
“Am I missing something?” Juanita asked, blinking with bafflement. “And what about those occasional tune-ups, if you know what I mean?”
“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had a man in my life for that purpose.”
“And?”
“Like I said, I’m quite comfortable with the way things are now. Men tend to complicate things. Besides, I’m too busy for romance at this time of my life. Besides, I’m focused on opening my own five-star restaurant.”
“Yvette, the restaurant part is fantastic. Out of sight! And I admire you for your vision. But the other part…I just don’t believe what I’m hearing. Tell me you don’t really believe in that liberated who-needs-a-man-bullshit, do you?”
“What?”
“Do you honestly think you can make it through the rest of the year without molesting some African grown Zulu dick every once in a while?”
“Juanita, I didn’t say that,” Yvette chuckled. “I’m just saying I am not interested in a serious relationship at this time.”
“Now, now! Don’t tell me you’ve become so independent a sista that you’d happily settle for a casual roll in the hay.”
“Well, once in a while, perhaps. You know, when things get desperate and I’m about to crawl up a wall.”
“Yeah, I hear yah, Miss Lonely-And-Desperate-Who-Only-Gets-Laid-Once-A-Year. And of course, probably on your own terms.”
“But of course. Is there any other way?”
“None that I can think of, not in your case.”
“And Juanita, he doesn’t have to be African Zulu. He can be Irish, Mongolian or Latin, even Asian, for that matter. Better yet, all the man has to be is right for me and good to me.”
“What about fine and handsome?”
“He’ll need to be that too just to get in the door,” she smiled.
“So you truly are a modern day woman. As they say, variety is the spice of life. Now I know why men go head over heels for you. It’s the mystique, the promise in your eyes, along with your 100 watt personality.”
“What men and what personality would you be referring to?” Yvette laughed.
“All right Ms. Innocence. I know you remember last week…that handsome waiter at Krystal Rock Café who could not ask you enough times if you were enjoying your meal?”
“Juanita, he was addressing both of us.”
“Perhaps, but he was smiling and all dreamy eyes over you.”
“You know, he was sort of cute,” Yvette murmured, as she fondly reminisced.
“Sort of?”
“Well, very cute, if you want to press the damn issue.”
“Cute enough for you to eyeball him every time you thought he wasn’t looking.”
“I imagine I looked once, well perhaps twice.”
“Well, I can’t blame you. Mr. Waiter did serve up a nice looking ass.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Yeah, right,” Juanita retorted playfully.
The two shared another laugh.
But Juanita wasn’t finished. “As you must know, men are good about going after what they think they can’t have. It’s the challenge. It’s the risk and excitement involved. And may I add, that’s what gets most people, especially married men, into trouble.”
“You know, that’s promising coming from you. For a moment I thought you were going to say it’s their penis that gets them into trouble,” Yvette replied.
“Well, that too,” Juanita added.
“Okay, since we’re on the subject and you’re the expert, tell me. Why in your estimate are men attracted to me?”
Juanita, one for speaking her mind, and bluntly, did not hesitate to respond. “Because they can sense that under that ‘goodie two shoes’ façade that you love to put on, you’re probably a real freakazoid inside. You see curious men and women of mystique usually equal sexual attraction. Sexual arousal more bluntly put, especially if she dresses sexy and seductively. It’s human nature. Give men the time of day, and something sexy to look at, and their little dickies go off like goddamn Geiger counters.”
“Surely there must be men out there who aren’t uncorked by attractive looking women.”
“Honey, not even men of God are immune to the charms of a sultry woman,” Juanita warned. “Just ask some of those righteous men of the cloth out there stalking the red light district in disguise at night. And that television evangelist on the news, remember him, the one who vowed to live a life of celibacy, but recently was caught soliciting an undercover cop.”
“Yeah, you got a point there. And these are men who usually have attractive wives. Am I right?”
“Doesn’t matter. Point is, she may not be measuring up where it counts and when it counts the most.”
“Measuring up, huh?”
“Inside the bedroom, of course,” Juanita explained. “Outside of the bedroom, it’s every man’s dream to marry one of those gentile soft spoken lady types. But inside the bedroom he wants her to be 100% all freak…like I know you are with men.”
“Girl, the Statue of Liberty has more freakiness in her than I’ll ever have.”
“You wish. If that is the case, you better guard against becoming as frigid and cold as that damn statue.”
“Yeah, right,” Yvette chuckled.
“No, seriously, it’s true. Men love women who hold back a little, but potentially have a lot to give up under the right circumstances.”
“Like what?” Yvette wanted to clarify, trying her best not to break into a laugh.
“Like offering more than the missionary position. Believe me, men imagine and want more than that. He wants excitement and adventure and fantasies all mixed into one. If a woman is into whipped cream and body massages or loves doing it doggy-style, she’s the kind of freak he’ll want to hold onto at all cost.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it shows she has imagination and is willing to go the extra mile to please her man.”
“I’m down with the part about going the extra mile but the doggy-style thing…I’m not going that route and wound up at room temperature like Farrah Fawcett.”
“Good point,” Juanita said as she leaned back in her chair.
“But I get your drift,” Yvette added. “I imagine if a man’s woman doesn’t want to go the extra mile, he’ll just find someone who will.”
“And believe me, there are plenty of available freaks out there willing to do what you won’t do to please your man.”
“It seems to me that this should be his lost, not the woman.”
“Right! And I guess that’s why you are still single.”
“Well, I’m certainly not an easy catch,” Yvette said, swelling with pride. “What about you? Do you ever hold back?”
“Gal, you know that’s not my personality. I’m too flirtatious. When I see a man I’m attractive to
and I want him bad enough, I’m all over him like a cat on catnip. Gal, when I’m through with him he knows he’s been truly freaked.”
“Like I always said, Juanita…you’re an original.”
Juanita laughed. “Well, I’m not going to deny that. But mark my words dear, you’re going to meet a man one day who’s going to bring out the real freak in you. I just know it. Someone who will make you feel things you’ve never imagine feeling before.”
“You really think so?”
“Like I said, I knows so,” Juanita said matter-of-factly.” Trust me. It’s just a matter of time.”
“If you say so,” Yvette said.
“Believe me, when it happens, that’s when you’re going to fall in love.”
“We’ll see,” Yvette chuckled.
Chapter 3
Static crackled through Kurt‘s earphones. Why now when one of his favorite ballads was playing. Must be a short or something, he concluded. Examining the set, he made a mental note to replace them the next time he visited the local Radio Shack. Still his mood remained sober.
Rising up slowly, he flipped the off switch to his stereo receiver and walked reluctantly into the bedroom where his wife Leslie and her brother Chip, were packing the remainder of her belongings for the big move out West. It had been a week and half since her announcement about leaving. On her dime, Leslie had flown Chip in from Pittsburgh, where he lived with his wife and three children, to assist her with the move.
Through the bedroom window he could see the imposing U-Haul truck, which sat parked in front of the house on the lawn. He glanced their way but said nothing. Sitting on the edge of the recliner, he relived the weeks leading up to this day.
In a last ditch effort to save his troubled marriage he had pulled out all of the stops the very day Leslie told him she was leaving. He wined and dined her, presented her with bouquets of flowers, continued their workouts at the local gym, went on romantic excursions, rented romantic videos and continued to reason with her in an effort to get her to remain there with him. Though he knew he would be jobless in a short while, he spared no money on behalf of his quest to fan the fires of love and passion with his wife. All the while, he held out hope that she would reconsider her course of action and give their relationship another chance. That’s all he wanted. Another chance.
In the end, she remained adamant about moving on with her life. For Kurt, the week leading up to this day had been his greatest challenge.
With little choice, he painfully watched the process kick into play. It began with her packing her belongings, making reservations with U-Haul, and calling or receiving calls from family members and friends about her upcoming transition. He found these conversations quite depressing. She even appeared to acquire a new look about her, along with a new but distant attitude.
For him it wasn’t easy to keep a positive outlook on what his brother Robert would easily call a ‘conundrum extraordinaire’ in the making, or as translated into English, a fucked-up situation. His brother lived through and survived several such transitions in the past. A hellraiser and gambler, inside and outside of the local pool hall, Robert had married and divorced five women before he was thirty-seven years old. He was a month away from divorcing wife number six. Love them and leave them, that was Robert’s motto.
In the final days, sadness overwhelmed Kurt whenever Leslie’s conversations with others turned to the subject of rental properties or possible business center sites for her mental health practice or the social activities she was looking forward to in Oklahoma with her sister Lorna. For every positive emotion, expression, or spoken thought Leslie made in his presence on Oklahoma or relating to her imminent move there, whether it was made directly to him, or indirectly, he took it personally and on an emotional level. In his mind, it was a stark measure of the unhappiness he seemed to have brought his wife over the past two years. In many ways, it made him feel inadequate as a husband and as a lover.
Feeling alone and burdened by a heavy heart, he sat solemnly on what was once the warm cozy bed he and Leslie once eagerly shared, and watched a dozen or more sitcoms on, and made wild and passionate love on. His stomach churned with anxiety as he watched her remove the last item from the room she was taking with her. It was a large framed photo of them together on a mid-summer cruise. It was a poignant moment for him. For a man still in love with his wife, it didn’t get any demoralizing than this. The fact that she took the photo comforted him in a strange way. She wasn’t to the point of disgruntlement that she could not stand to look at his printed image.
Patting a loose curl back into place, Leslie paused to scoop up Tommy Boy, the family’s pet feline, who had just raced into the wide room, and gave him a big hug and some baby talk. It was her way of saying goodbye. After she lowered the feline to the floor and watched it dart off, she turned her attention to her soon-to-be-estranged husband, who sat visibly shaken by the events going on around him.
Walking over to where he sat in a state of disbelief, she took both of his warm hands and wrapped them around her small waist, then hugged and nestled his head below her bosom. “I’m going to miss you, Kurt. I really am. But I have to go now.”
He held onto her, but said nothing, even when she took her fingers and brushed the tears from her eyes and his own. Still, he locked his gaze on hers and did not waver.
She cupped his face in the palm of her hands, which forced him to snap out of his trace-like state. “Honey, I’ve got to go now. Chip’s got to be back to work by next Thursday. You to take care of yourself, okay!”
Kurt gazed up into her liquid eyes, searchingly, and again said nothing. He watched as a trace of a smile formed on her face. Then he watched intently as she lowered her trembling lips to his. The sensation and passion he felt were beyond words. It was almost like their first kiss. But was this to be their last kiss, a thought and poignant moment he dreaded to ponder.
Why do Ihave to be so damned nice about this, he pondered? This was not how their special made-in-heaven marriage was supposed to end. Yes, she had left him before. But in a strange way, he sensed things were different this time. The first time she stormed off she took a small amount of luggage, along with a few family photos and the new Navigator. He was left with the Corvette, and what was left in the house. That respite lasted only a few weeks. A near empty house and bloated U-Haul truck and car trailer parked outside on their driveway made things look more permanent this time around.
From the confines of what was now a hollow bedroom, he listened as the noisy truck pulled onto the street and off into the night. The near empty room seemed to magnify the sound of the departing truck’s whining engine as though he were in some sort of echo chamber.
Flopping his upper torso back onto the bed, he peered up at the ceiling, his eyes swollen red with tears, along with a sudden migraine brought on by questions that invaded his thoughts. Would his Leslie ever come back to him? Would he ever inhale her fresh fragrance again? Would he ever hold her in his protective arms again? Would they ever laugh together again? Make passionate love again? More frightening to him was the thought of another man stealing her heart while he was out of the picture.
In spite of all of the talk of losing weight, Leslie was still an attractive thirty-six year old woman who had the beauty, body and sex appeal of a twenty-six year old. And yes, the woman could make love. As for his own innate abilities, he knew the big D was good to her. Hell, no one could take her to the level of ecstasy as he could and had. That is, as far as he knew.
While lying there pondering her departure, an abrupt pause in his chain of thoughts gave birth to a new perspective on this matter.
What if she hadn’t been tell’n the truth? What if she had been getting some stray lumber on the side all along? He gasped. Certainly she would never admit to such a betrayal. And what if they had plans to meet in Oklahoma?
Then there was always the possibility she might cross paths with some handsome and experienced, handsome, even persuasive stud in
Oklahoma once there. Would she be so lonely, so emotionally and mentally weak, and so available that she’d let another man charm and seduce her? Such thoughts and images were the last things he wanted to entertain. Not now. Not ever!
The thought of his lovely wife surrendering her sweet orifice to some tall smooth talking, jive time, wannabe hump, bump and grind master, persisted. This sent chills racing throughout his body. More than that, he’s thinking some stud that’s operating at Jedi Warrior level. When all was said and done, he could no longer be the master and sole ruler of a fairytale castle that was no longer there.
Damn! He cursed silently, his heart heavy, his mind swelling with unfounded jealousy. The last thing he wanted to picture was some dapper GQ looking, executive-type, dangling his uptown and upscale office tool in front of his beloved wife. No! Hell nooo!
He hammered back in his thoughts.
Several minutes later, a sudden calm came over him. Down inside he knew Leslie wasn’t that type of woman. Even while away from him.
That night, as he lay in his King-size bed, alone and despondent, he contemplated life without Leslie and what the future held for him. He had a mortgage to pay and a stack of other bills and no job. Though he had the confidence to land another job, he lacked the motivation to go on without his wife. Again, he wondered who would fill the void in his life, if not his wife.
Feeling what he was feeling for her, he wasn’t even thinking about getting seriously close to another woman. At best, he might cultivate a friendship. Less than that, he might seduce and bed them. And leave them…that is, quite satisfied. But none of that fall’n-in-love-until-death-do-us part stuff for him ever again.
Picking up a wallet size photo of Leslie, he paused to study it. How in hell could she walk away from something substantial and meaningful as their relationship, he pondered? In a desperate attempt to ease his emotional anguish, and to get some needed rest, he crawled out of his bed and fixed himself a potent nightcap. It was his usual poison – Jamaican rum and coke over crushed ice. After downing two servings of the drink, he returned to bed and fell fast asleep.
Cafe Romance Page 3
