“You did not!” Jesse said incredulously.
Savannah rose from the couch and kicked off her high-heeled sandals. “Yes, I did. I also told him that in stocking feet, your belt buckle hit me here.” She pointed to her midsection, just below her navel. “He knew how long the pants had to be, but I told him you had large, powerful thighs so we went up a size.” As she said the word thighs, her fingers grazed over his.
“The shirt was easy. You fit in my brother’s tee, so I called him and asked what size he wore and went up one.” She grabbed her keys and the door handle, slipping back into her shoes ushering him out to the parking garage. “Do you like the color of the shirt?”
“It is an odd color blue, but I like it,” he said as she unlocked the doors to her car. Jesse slid into the passenger seat and felt like a sardine. Savannah reached between his legs and adjusted the seat handle, giving him more legroom.
“The blue of the shirt is almost the same color of your eyes, when you are really turned on,” she said as she pulled away from the parking space. Like they are now.
She was playing dirty and he loved it. “So with my blue eyes and your brown ones ...” he paused for a minute to get her brain moving. “... what color would our children’s eyes be?”
Savannah did not miss a beat. “Well brown is the dominant color, in all honesty, and since blue is the recessive trait, there is a 50/50 chance the child could have either.” She drove down the main road, coming up by the Civic Center and entering I-20 headed East.
“It would be really cool if we had a little girl and she had hazel eyes,” Jesse said. “I would love to name her Sahara.”
Her eyes remained fixed on the road, as she searched for the right thing to say next, but instead he piped up, “You know the timing belt is about to go on this car, it need struts, and the alignment is off.”
“I am aware,” she told him. “I will get it fixed next month.”
“Why?” He tried to turn in the seat, but there was very little room for him to move. “The timing belt and labor will cost more than the car is worth.”
“What do you suggest I do, Mr. Mechanic?”
Jesse stared out the window. “If it dies before you are ready to get something else, I will loan you my Cherokee. I hardly ever drive it.”
It was a quiet dinner. As they enjoyed their meal, they talked about furniture and fishing. For his birthday, she gave him a new tackle box, which surprised him. Savannah had listened to what he told her about fishing on the weekends with his father and the type of lures he used.
Savannah was showing that she cared deeply for him. She spent money on him while knowing her car needed to be fixed. His chest swelled, filling him with pride at having pushed the lady to give something back.
She dropped him at his at his truck, saying good night with a brief kiss on his lips.
Savannah was learning to love him.
It was the best birthday present a man could receive.
Chapter Twenty
September
In church on Sunday, Darwin continued to cast speculative glances her way. They had an early supper at her mother’s house and he seemed almost uncomfortable with his fiancée. Her mother picked up on the trouble right away. Emurial Niden asked her to stay and leaned toward Darwin to give him a hug. “I’ll drive her home.”
Emurial was concerned that Darwin was way too eager to get away. The table hadn’t even been cleared when her mother turned and asked, “What is his name and what have you done?”
Savannah collected the dirty plates. “What makes you think I’ve done something?”
Emurial was not about to mince words with her daughter. “I know that look and you unleashed something on him that he cannot wrap his mind around. Did you bring another dog’s tricks into that man’s yard?”
This was boring her. The whole scenario was boring her. Lying was boring her and she just wanted to be herself. “Seriously, Mother, stop being so dramatic. If Darwin wants to run with the big dogs, he has to stop pissing like a pup.” That was all she had to say on the matter.
The rest of it was none of her mother’s business.
Thursday
As the evening arrived, she made meatloaf, sour cream mashed potatoes, haricot verts, and a sweet potato pie. Instead of slutty clothing, she wore a simple skirt, a modest blouse, and a push-up bra. Her thick black hair that she often wore pulled back into a ponytail was piled high upon her head, with loose tendrils framing her face and her neck. She made a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid with slices of lemons, and when the door opened at 6 pm, she greeted Jesse at the door with a cold glass.
“Good evening, Baby. How has your week been?” she asked him as she made her way back to the kitchen to check on the pie.
Slowly, as if uncertain of his standing, he rounded the corner to spot the meatloaf and his eyes got wide. When she pulled the sweet potato pie from the oven and place it on the cooling racks, he sat down the glass and walked up behind her embracing her from behind, nearly squeezing the life out of her.
“Oh God, Savanna ...” She pried his fingers loose so she could turn and face him. His eyes were brimming with emotion and tears. The feeling was mutual. “I have missed you so much, Baby.” He kissed her face, her neck, and her jawline. “Tell me how much you missed me, too.”
She kissed him back, pushing him toward the couch. She needed Jesse in a way that could only connect two souls into a single moment. She grabbed his bag and removed the necessary tools, as he tilled away in her womanhood with his fingers. “I missed you, too, Jesse,” she told him as his fingers plunged deep and she cried out. She yanked her blouse over her head, not bothering to unfasten her bra as she lifted the cups over her mounds to expose her breast. She shoved them in his face, then his mouth, commanding him, “Suck them!”
Jesse’s teeth grazed across the nipples as his thumb massaged the nub of flesh and his fingers worked in and out of her valley.
Savannah took the condom from his hand and ripped open the package, but before she placed it upon him, she disengaged from his hand, dropped to her knees and for the first time, took him into her mouth. Clean, dirty, or slightly tart, she didn’t care. His head flopped back on the couch, his mouth form an ‘O’ as he tried to catch his breath. She was going to unleash every tool she had at her disposal on him. She sucked hard, stroking, massaging, and pleasing him.
She applied the protection, slid her underwear to the side and straddled his hips. Slowly, inch-by-inch, she took him in. Her breasts were shoved in his face and once she was seated, she slid back and slammed full force into him. “You like this, Tool Boy?” She asked as she rocked her pelvis back and forth.
“Does this feel good to you, Jesse?” she asked as she picked up her pace. He only mumbled as his eyes rolled upward and his breathing became erratic. “Look at me, and tell me, Jesse. Tell me what you’ve been wanting to say.”
She gripped the back of the couch using it for leverage. He felt so damned good she could not get enough of him. She picked up her pace. She used her abdominal muscles, her pelvic muscles and her thigh muscles to give him what she had been holding on to for a month. The force of their movements was so great that the couch began to shift and move across the floor. They became verbal and extra noisy. As he bit down on her nipple, she yelled at him, “Say it! Tell me!”
As Jesse neared his climax, he held onto her hips, pulling and pushing her, thrusting his hips upward, and calling her name between gritted teeth he mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.” He quickly turned over, ending up on his back, holding her hips in his hands. He began to raise and lift her over his need until he too was losing control. “Say it, Jesse. Tell me!” The start of her climax nearly paralyzed him it was so intense. He was panting, trying to hold off as he flexed his stomach muscles to stave off his release, but it was too much. He wrapped his arms around her waist and reversed their positions on the couch.
He withdrew and shoved himself into her. She cried out his name. He lunged into h
er again and again and again. The waves of her orgasm washed over her as she lay still. He called her name, “Savannah.” His eyes were heavy with passion as she looked up at him, “I love you so much. Every moment with you is magical.” He began to move slowly within her.
He did not enter the vortex with her, but was waiting for the one thing he needed to hear. “Jesse, I love you, too.”
“Savannah,” he whispered as he picked up his rhythm. “Say it again. Tell me again, my Lovely, tell me,” he said as he moved inside of her.
“I love you, Jesse. Fill me up, Jesse, give me all of you and give me everything you have.” He cried out her name as the force of his thrusting moved the couch closer to the kitchen.
They collapsed on the sofa, laughing when they noticed the couch’s proximity to the stove. Jesse shifted his weight so he wouldn’t crush her. “So much for an English sofa on casters.”
“I am more worried that my neighbors heard us.” She laughed as she planted loving kisses on his face.
Those two items were the least of their worries. Jesse had forgotten to lock the front door. The unexpected guest, who heard the commotion, had slowly peered inside and then eased back out, not calling attention to his presence.
Chapter Twenty - One
Darwin was having trouble finding a way to start the conversation to address what Savannah had unleashed on him that late night. He was concerned that in two years, he had never seen that side of her. What troubled him more than anything else was his inability to please her. Several times she had stopped to increase his staying power and he had failed miserably to meet or match her drive.
In his mind, he realized that Savannah was a ten, but what made her so amazing was she thought she was a six. On any scale, from a good side, or right angle, he understood his lot in life. He would never surpass the threshold of a seven, even if he spent six days a week in the gym. Unfortunately, his shortcomings were not balanced out with his ability to perform in bed. Even as a black man, he was not gifted with a large endowment. It was average.
His former lovers, if they could be called that, deemed him a shallow, self-centered asshole. He had felt safe with Savannah because she was non-judgmental. His forehead throbbed as he thought of the number of times she had lain under him, allowing him to finish, now knowing that she was left unsatisfied. A feeling of inadequacy threatened to overrun him, with the idea that a life of not satisfying her in bed would eventually ruin the marriage.
An image of the muscle-bound Jesse flashed through his psyche.
He had not been wrong. Somebody, if not that mother cocker, was teaching his sweet angel how to be nasty. He didn’t like it, not one bit. He decided to bring it up to her over dinner. “Savannah, I understand your taste is a tad bit different from mine and if you have been unfaithful to me in order to become ...” he cleared his throat. “... more fulfilled, I can understand.”
Savannah’s jaw was agape with a piece of beef dangling between her lips. Darwin asked the question that Jesse, her mother, and her brother, Jerwane, had also asked, “Why are you marrying me?”
She shoveled meat into her mouth. “Because, I love you, Darwin.” He smiled at her but was not ready to let the subject drop.
“But are you in love with me?” he asked as he looked over the glass of Merlot.
“Darwin, love is not quantifiable and very seldom qualifiable. People rant on and on about what they think love is and whom they are in love with, but it is all bullshit.” She sipped her glass of wine. She was tired of having this conversation. First with Jesse and now with him. When did men become so sappy? Had the testosterone been bred out of them, replacing the American man with a whipped Mama’s boy who needed to discuss his feelings?
“Being in love does not pay the bills, feed and clothe the kids, or provide longevity in marriage. Those things are done through logic, understanding, and nurturing one another,” she told him with more than a mere annoyance.
Darwin smiled at her. She had inadvertently answered his question. She was not in love with him, but marrying him for security.
She had been candid with him, so he would do the same with her. “Whoever he is—and I don’t need to know—he has to go. You will not share my bed for a roof over your head then crawl into his for recreation.”
Savannah looked at Darwin with sharp eyes. “Considering the roof I have over my head now is not by your hand, but my own, I think I am capable of maintaining it if need be. And the same thing goes for you. If you have something on the side, she will need to be set free.”
It was out in the air. The soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Finney stared at each other. “You have until December to clean your house before you move into mine and become Mrs. Finney.”
Savannah was nonplussed, as she gave back as good as she got, “And you have until December to be better, Mr. Finney.” It was not implied, nor stated what he needed to be better at. As far as she was concerned the list had about ten items and stingy was at the top.
This was turning out to be one of the best months of Savannah Niden’s life. Her articles, which had been submitted to several publications earlier in the year, were all accepted, including one in an NIH journal and another in the Journal of Biological Chemistry on mitochondrial oxidation. Although much of her research focused on high blood pressure, some of her findings were easily correlated to oxygen deficiency in red blood cells in hypertensive patients and diabetics. This was a proud moment.
She was even more proud when the Dean informed her that she had made Assistant Professor. It would not be official for two months, but it also came with a pay increase. It was a raise that would afford her some breathing room. The new position meant more classes to teach, more research to study, and more grants to write, but she was relishing in the new options for her workday. This was an extremely happy moment and she hoped everyone would be joyful for her.
Her soon-to-be-husband was not. When she shared her great news with Darwin, he congratulated her with what bordered on insincere praise, “That’s wonderful, Darling, but I was hoping we would be starting a family in the latter part of the year.” This bullheaded man is not going to ruin my shining moment. She called Jesse, who, on Thursday evening, arrived with flowers and a bottle of champagne to celebrate. When she told him about her new responsibilities, he hugged her and congratulated her again. He had a question, and Savannah held her breath.
“I may not make six figures, but I do pretty well. Do you think with your pay raise that our combined incomes can get you that fancy car and the house you want in Vestavia Hills?”
She smiled at his insightfulness, but she was in a new frame of mind as well. “Or, I can stay right here and get a new Ford.” Her thought patterns were changing. She was finding out what she really liked and maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s trophy wife.
Jesse understood what she was feeling, but escapism wasn’t an option this time. He wanted to know. “How long have you been engaged to Darwin?”
Savannah, who was sitting next to him on the couch, cradled in the crook of his arm, looked at him, realizing, but not rationalizing something that had been niggling in the back of her mind for some time. “I actually got engaged to him on Valentine’s night, an hour before I met you.”
Their eyes met. Jesse held the gaze. Maybe Big Sam had been right all along and timing was everything. She wasn’t married yet. Instead of capitalizing on this small victory of self-doubt slithering through her mind, he opted instead to take the high road. “Interesting.”
Then he changed the subject. “That sweet potato pie was fantastic. Can I bribe you to make another one day?”
The kudzu had taken root, now it was time to increase the fertilizing schedule.
Chapter Twenty-Two
October
It was a fantastic Friday morning. Jesse showered and put on a loose fitting pair of hot red boxer briefs. He had a craving for coffee. He began whistling as he headed down the stairs to start a pot of the dark brew that would
pair nicely with a couple of boiled eggs and a few slices of bacon for breakfast. It amazed him that after nine months of making love to Savannah it was just as exciting as it was the first time. Although he wasn’t a singer, this morning his heart was melodic as he began belting out a Tim McGraw song.
He rounded the corner to the kitchen and stopped short when he spotted an unfamiliar large black man standing in Savannah’s kitchen. The man was in the fridge and Jesse’s emotions were going haywire. This dude had better not be Friday showing up early! The man turned around, eyeing Jesse, taking everything in, especially his lack of clothing. Thank goodness he had opted for the underwear! Jesse noticed his hair, the skin coloring, nose, and mouth. “Oh, you must be Savannah’s brother.”
Jerwane was still staring. “Yes, and that would make you her ... what?”
Jesse could not help himself as he headed for the cabinet to get the coffee. “I am her maintenance man.”
Jerwane closed the fridge and found himself staring at the half naked white man in his sister’s kitchen. “You do know you have a short contract on this lease, right?”
“Not if I’m planning to relocate her to another facility.” He smiled at Jerwane as he started the coffee. Her brother was now leaning against the fridge, leaving Jesse with a waning appetite.
“Funny, Mr. Rogers, but I think you are in the wrong neighborhood,” he said defensively. This was not her brother’s call, nor was it his business, and Jesse was not going to engage him any further. Savannah arrived in the kitchen with a smile on her face, fully dressed and ready to raid the fridge. After last night, she was starving. She told her brother good morning, kissed him on the cheek, and pushed him out of the way as she began to make lunch bags. As large as the man was, he was putty in his little sister’s hands.
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