Body By Night

by Day, Zuri

  “Well, do you want to open it?” Sylvia asked Orlando.

  “I could,” he responded. He smiled tentatively at the couple sitting opposite him and reached for the envelope.

  “I’ll do it,” D’Andra said, grabbing the envelope before Orlando reached it. She was excited. For her the verification of his fatherhood status was merely a formality. She had a feeling she was going to like getting to know the man sitting across from her. He’d been distant until now, but she believed there to be a kind, lighthearted man underneath his guarded exterior. She smiled at Night briefly before tearing open the envelope.

  “Here, you read it Night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  D’Andra smiled. “Of course.”

  Night pulled the paper from the envelope and scanned its content.

  “Well?” Sylvia asked.

  Night looked briefly at Orlando and then at D’Andra. “Baby, this says he’s not your father.”

  23

  D’Andra glared at Mary, who sat nonchalantly on the couch. Her mother had danced around the question ever since D’Andra had returned from Chicago on Monday after getting the results of the DNA test. Now it was Saturday and after five days of “I don’t want to talk about it” D’Andra wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “How can you sit there and say you don’t know?” D’Andra repeated. “If Orlando Dobbs isn’t my father, there had to be somebody else, or was it more than one?”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to? What I do in my bedroom is none of your damn business,” Mary retorted defensively. “I knew that fool would lie; he’s never owned up to anything in his life.”

  “It’s the DNA test that didn’t lie, Mama. For thirty years I’ve thought a man named Orlando Dobbs was my father. Now I find out he isn’t. I also found out the reason he left, at least according to him. He said it was because of another man; and that that man might be my father. Was he talking about Sam or someone else?”

  Mary eyed her daughter quietly. For a second, D’Andra thought her mother might cry. Just as quickly, the vulnerability left, replaced by a steely resolve.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t hear what you wanted to in Chicago,” she said without emotion. “But I can’t tell you what you want to hear right now. There’s a lot of pain surrounding those early years with you and your sister. And I’m just not strong enough to dig around in that pain for the answer you need.”

  D’Andra wondered about the pain of which her mother spoke, but wondered more about the man whose DNA she shared, the one who now she might never know.

  Twenty minutes later, D’Andra was out of the house and on her way to the gym. Shortly after she started her car, her cell phone rang.

  “Is this D’Andra Smalls?” a perky sounding voice asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jenny with Palatial Apartments. We called you last week about a one-bedroom that was coming available. You’d listed with Place Finders saying you were looking. Are you still interested?”

  “Who is this?”

  In all the drama surrounding her trip to Chicago, D’Andra had forgotten all about the message she received the day she and her mother had argued about finding her father. All she remembered from listening to it is that it had said something about “finders.” She’d automatically connected it with Peoplesearch.com, the Web site that had helped her locate her father, no, the man she’d thought for nearly three decades was her dad. She was grateful the woman had called her back. A move was exactly the fresh air she needed.

  “It’s Jenny with—”

  “I’m very interested,” D’Andra cut off Jenny’s reply.

  “When can you come take a look at the unit?”

  “Right now. What’s the address?”

  Two and a half hours later, D’Andra left Culver City and headed to Inglewood, and Night’s house. She’d decided on the cozy, yet comfortable one-bedroom apartment as soon as she’d stepped into the living room. The layout was open, with a simple bar separating the kitchen from the combined living/dining area. The bathroom was nice-sized and the bedroom had a walk-in closet. It was perfect. She’d filled out the paperwork on the spot and left a check for deposit pending her application’s approval. Since it was the third week in March, the manager even offered to let her move in immediately but not charge rent until April first. That offer helped seal the deal. The faster she moved from the chaos, the better. D’Andra’s heart still felt heavy, but she was beginning to breathe again.

  Night, as always, was a welcomed sight.

  “Where are your gym clothes?”

  “Hello to you, too,” D’Andra responded before kissing him fully on the mouth. She had open access to his lips now and still couldn’t get enough. Nor could she believe her luck in finding a man like Night: kind, trustworthy and fine on top of that.

  “I wasn’t thinking about working out when I came here,” she said in response to his question. “Besides, it’s Saturday.”

  “I don’t know why not. You know you’re my favorite workout partner,” Night said. He filled his hands with her buttocks, and squeezed them as if they were ripe fruit.

  “Doll…you feel so good,” he said after placing several kisses across her nose and cheeks. “I love how tight this is getting. But it’s still juicy.” He squeezed her buttocks again and moaned as he reclaimed her lips.

  D’Andra explored his body in kind. She ran her hand over his close-cropped black hair, relishing the feel of its nappiness. She ran her hands along his back and across his hard, tight butt…her favorite feature. She felt him harden as she continued to massage his gluteous maximus. Well, almost my favorite, she thought as he began a slow grind in the middle of the living room.

  “We’re going to work out,” Night whispered. “And then we’re going to work out.”

  “I told you, I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Don’t worry about that…I have everything you need.”

  Night took her hand and began to lead her toward his bedroom.

  “Wait,” D’Andra protested. “We need to talk. I’ve got some things to tell you.”

  Night’s face quickly turned from playful to concerned. “What’s the matter? Is this about your real father?”

  D’Andra relayed the conversation she’d had with her mother. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know who he is,” she concluded. “And I don’t know how I feel about that.”

  “There’s nothing you can do but let it be, at least for now.” Night waited for what he felt a respectful time and then said, “Okay, let’s get changed.”

  “Wait just a minute, Mr. Impatient. I have something else to tell you.”

  “What? You’re not pregnant are you?”

  “Why would you ask that question? You’ve always used protection and I’m on the pill.”

  Jazz. “I’m just teasing you,” Night said. But he wasn’t. Jazz had used that line on him more than once, and to this day he didn’t know whether she’d ever really carried his child.

  “I’ve got a place,” D’Andra said. Her eyes shined with excitement. She paced the room as she told Night about it.

  He didn’t share her enthusiasm. “I wish you would move in here with me.” He’d given the invitation more than once, after conversations about her less-than-happy living environment.

  “You know how much I care about you. But I’m going through a lot of different feelings and emotions right now, making changes in myself, my life. I just need a little space to sort it all out, and after living with five other people in a two-bedroom for months, a little solitude.”

  “I understand, but you know you’re going to pay for this decision, don’t you?” He reached for D’Andra’s hand and began leading her toward the bedroom.

  “How so?” she asked coyly, her body already tingling in anticipation.

  Night reached the bedroom, walked over to his closet and after a few moments pulled out a pink-and-white baby doll T-shirt, D’Andra’s favorite kind, and a pair of pin
k shorts.

  “By getting into your workout clothes and meeting me downstairs. You’ve put me in a mood, doll. And I’m going to make you sweat.”

  Put him in a mood? D’Andra wondered what that meant. Was it a good mood or a bad mood? She couldn’t tell from his expression. Was he joking? She sure hoped so. Her stomach was still slightly sore from the last round of crunches and even though her core, leg and arm muscles were stronger, she still didn’t look forward to thirty minutes of lifts, squats and stretches.

  She dressed quickly in the workout attire Night had purchased, admiring his taste and attention to detail in remembering what she liked. When she walked down the stairs into the home gym, Night was busy doing pushups on the blue rubber mat. She stopped and quietly noted a body of perfection. How his chiseled arms bent and straightened, causing his back muscles to ripple as smoothly as a song. She eyed the slight curve of his back and the valley at the small of it before it expanded to reveal two dimples above a firm, round behind. His thighs could have been sculpted by an artist, so expertly proportioned was the design. His thighs bulged as his legs helped hold his weight and his calf muscles bulged their participation as well.

  “Are you going to stand there ogling me all day, or are you going to join me?” Night asked, without stopping his exercise and without looking up.

  “I wasn’t looking at you,” D’Andra said.

  They both laughed at that lie. Night stopped, went to his knees and motioned D’Andra over.

  “Let’s start with push-ups.”

  Forty-five sweaty minutes later, they were done. Night had pushed D’Andra physically farther than he’d ever done before: a fast-paced ten minutes on the stationary bike, a ten-minute run on the treadmill followed by kick-boxing, core work including crunches and squats, and exercises to tone her glutes and quads. Both she and Night were sweating and the gym, which Night purposely kept on the warm side, felt a bit similar to a low-heat sauna.

  D’Andra sprawled onto the blue mat. “Night, my abs hurt.”

  Night stood above her with outstretched hands. “Come on, doll.”

  He guided her gently up the stairs and to the bathroom where he stripped her out of her wet workout clothes. Without saying a word, he turned on the water, hot, and then stripped as well. That’s where the loving started.

  Soaping her front to back, he used his own body to massage the healing scent of chamomile into D’Andra’s skin. He then sat her on the seat Night had installed into his extra wide tub-and-shower unit, took emu, a healing oil for sore joints and muscles, and worked it into D’Andra’s tissues. As the water poured over them both, he worked from her toes to her shoulders, around to the back of her neck and back to her thighs and calves, massaging, kneading and releasing tension with every stroke. By the time he finished, D’Andra was as limp as a noodle, and as horny as the brass section of California’s Symphony Orchestra.

  Night was getting ready to take care of that too. After using a large, fluffy soft towel to dry off D’Andra, he led her into the bedroom.

  “Get on the bed,” he said, the first words he’d uttered since saying “Come on, doll.”

  D’Andra hadn’t spoken either, partly because she’d initially been too tired to think and partly because she was mesmerized at Night’s tender ministrations. She felt cared for, protected, something she hadn’t had the chance to feel often. And she was loving every minute of it, her tiredness now replaced by ardent desire.

  Night turned D’Andra onto her stomach. For a moment he did nothing, which only heightened D’Andra’s anticipation. Then came the feel of cool, soothing lotion and the smell of something delicious—strawberries and white chocolate—as Night began at D’Andra’s shoulders and lotioned her body down to her toes. D’Andra loved the way he handled her thick body, as if he were in total control. She’d slimmed down from a size twenty to a size sixteen; and Night treated her extra pounds as if they were cotton candy: licking, nibbling and enjoying the sweetness.

  He turned her over and did the same thing on her other side, paying special attention to her breasts and inner thighs. D’Andra moaned softly as beginning at her ankles, Night placed feathery soft kisses along the inner side of her leg before parting them and deeply kissing her passion paradise. She moaned louder now as Night secured her ample hips in his hands and made love to her with his tongue. Just when she felt she would explode he lifted himself up and reached for the protection lying on the nightstand.

  “Um, let me,” D’Andra breathed. She took the condom out of the package and, with her eyes never leaving Night’s, placed it on his massive manhood, using her mouth to unroll it up the length of his shaft. He turned her around and entered her swiftly, forcefully, authoritatively and completely, as if their lovemaking was a matter of utmost importance and urgency. After their initial climaxes they settled into a slow, thoughtful rhythm, memorizing each other’s bodies, dancing the timeless, ageless dance of love.

  The candles had burned down long ago, the open balcony allowing in a welcomed ocean breeze. The couple lay side by side, settling their breathing after a torrid bout of steamy sex. The man turned onto his side and with a tanned, tapered finger made lazy circles on the woman’s bare bottom. She turned and threw her café au lait-colored leg over his.

  “That was amazing,” he said.

  The woman was silent, but simply cuddled closer to the man’s slender back.

  “Are you going to do it for me?” she finally whispered.

  “Do what?”

  “You know, make sure that little thing we talked about doesn’t happen.”

  Brad turned over to face Jazz fully. He kissed her again, reveling in the feel of her soft, full lips against his harder, thin ones. Already, he could feel himself once again becoming aroused. He’d wanted Jazz for a long, long time and now here she was, in his bed, and it felt incredible.

  “Yes,” he answered, as he turned her over on her stomach and knelt over her from behind. “I’ll do anything you ask.”

  24

  D’Andra laughed to herself as she hummed along to Chuck Berry’s Rock and Roll Music. The CD was a gift from Frank, who’d joined her and Night at Jewel’s BBQ to review the proof sheet of D’Andra’s photo shoot. It turned out to be an evening filled with loud laughter and rich history, as Frank shared stories of his time as a professional photographer in the fifties, sixties and seventies—when along with Chuck Berry, James Brown and other singers, he’d met famous politicians, athletes and actors. The dinner lasted three hours and D’Andra had spent the night in Night’s arms.

  This Sunday morning started out as beautifully as her Saturday night ended, waking up to Night’s incredibly tender lovemaking. He had a client so instead of fixing them breakfast, she drank a protein drink, showered, dressed, and was now speeding down La Cienega Boulevard on her way home.

  Her vibrating cell phone indicated an incoming call. D’Andra turned down Maybellene and quickly put in her hands-free earplug.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Dee, it’s Connie.”

  “Hey girl, what’s your prerogative?”

  D’Andra automatically used the phrase the Fabulous Four had chimed when calling each other.

  “Nothing much. Just got off the phone with Nelly and thought about you. We promised to keep in touch, remember?”

  There was a brief pause before D’Andra answered. “I’ve been busy, plus I’m getting ready to move.”

  “Where are you moving and what’s his name?”

  D’Andra laughed. “You know me too well, don’t you? I’m moving to this complex in Culver City called Palatial Apartments, and his name is Night.”

  “Night? What kind of name is that?”

  “His real name is JaJuan but everybody, except his mother, calls him Night.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve got a warm body in your bed, but that’s still no reason not to make time for a friend.”

  The conversation continued for a few more minutes, with Connie filling D’Andra
in on mutual associates who’d married, divorced, gotten pregnant or moved. Fortunately no one else they both knew had died. When D’Andra hung up with Connie she noticed she’d missed a call. Probably from earlier this morning, when I was otherwise occupied with Night, she thought with a smile.

  She checked her messages and was both surprised and delighted to find out she’d been approved for the apartment. It happened so fast D’Andra wondered if they’d really checked her credit report and references. And why was she being called on a weekend? She believed the check she left for deposit and first month’s rent may have had something to do with the application being accepted so quickly. She’d barely had time to think about it and now it was happening—she was moving to her own place.

  If Night was less than thrilled about it, her family was downright upset.

  Arriving home began as it often did, with little hands and feet greeting her at the door.

  “Hey, Aunt Dee. Where have you been?” Kayla asked inquisitively.

  “You gone all night, Aunt Dee,” Antoine added, as if D’Andra didn’t know.

  “Were you with your boyfriend?” Kayla questioned.

  “Can you fix us something to eat?” Tonia interrupted. She couldn’t care less about D’Andra’s previous whereabouts. It was eleven o’clock and she’d only eaten cereal and a candy bar. When she saw her aunt she saw the beginnings of a home-cooked meal.

  “Let me get in the door good, you guys.” D’Andra laughed as she noticed Tonia and Antoine vying for position behind her. Kayla’s attention was quickly drawn back to the video game she’d been playing while Antoine grabbed his Transformer and followed Tonia and D’Andra into the kitchen.