Can't Get Enough of Your Love

by J. J. Murray

  That makes sense, too. “Right.”

  He smiles. “And if my shit was here, I’d visit a lot more.”

  This isn’t happening.

  The one who I’ve always thought was least likely to settle down is using “settle-down” language. But maybe “a lot more” means “twice a month” to Karl.

  I have to test him.

  “Would that mean that …” What the hell else could that mean? No. He doesn’t want to do that … does he? “Would that mean that you might want to move in with me?”

  “Huh?”

  Well, at least it doesn’t mean that. Time to throw a bigger scare into Karl. “I mean, if you’re going to be around more, why not make it permanent?”

  “Like marriage?”

  “Maybe.”

  He paces around a little. “But …” He looks at me. “You serious?”

  Hell no! I’m having my beefcake and eating it twice more. I’m getting seconds and thirds. Why would I want that to end? “I’m serious, boo. As serious as I’ve ever been.”

  He smiles that smile that seduced me the first time I ever saw him sitting on the hood of his Blazer at Washington Park. “Nah, Peanut, you’re just playin’.”

  My face is a mask, but my mind is doing somersaults. “I’m not playin’.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Hell no! Back out, man! “Yes, I’m serious.”

  “Nah, you playin’. Getting all serious and shit. That ain’t like you. I mean all this”—he waves his hands around the kitchen—”this is serious. Your own place and shit. You didn’t decorate it, did you?”

  I think the moment has passed. “No.”

  “It sure is countrified, like Andy Griffith and shit.” He starts whistling the theme music from that show.

  “Boo, you know I’m still a city girl inside.”

  “Yeah?” He starts massaging my shoulders, pulling up my T-shirt and rubbing my bare skin with his hot hands.

  Why did I have to say “inside”? Karl can take the most innocent word and turn it into something sexual. I once told him, “I wish you’d shave more,” and in a matter of seconds, he was shaving me down there. And my coochie was cold for weeks! And when the hair grew back, it itched terribly.

  “You feel like a city girl on the outside, too.” He slides his hands around to my girls, squeezing them tightly.

  Oh damn.

  “You got a nice bed upstairs?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He scoops me out of my chair. “Give me better directions to your bedroom, all right?”

  “All right.”

  Just as we reach the bedroom, I remember Roger’s boxers. I see them out of the corner of my eye lying in the bathroom sink. The nerve!

  “Put me down, boo. I need to use the bathroom.”

  He sets me down, and I’m in that bathroom in a stumbling flash, the door closed behind me. Now, where do you hide a man’s—I pick them up—used boxers when another man is behind the door waiting to get into your drawers?

  The window over the shower. Thanks, Jenny.

  I hobble to the tub, step in, and open the window. After balling up Roger’s boxers, I drop them, hoping they’ll go straight down to get lost among my three trash cans.

  They don’t.

  They get hung up on the bricks on the side of the house!

  Shit!

  Naturally, they’re too far up the side of the house to reach from either here or the ground. Maybe the wind will blow them off. But with my luck today, they’ll blow around until they get stuck on the antenna of Karl’s Blazer. What would I tell him? That they’re mine? That might work.

  “C’mon, Peanut, don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Keep you waiting? You’ve kept me waiting for almost a month.”

  Which is … sort of true. At least in Karl’s case.

  “I got somethin’ for you, girl.”

  I know, I know.

  I take a deep breath.

  Here comes some pain.

  And once we’re in bed, damn if my ankle doesn’t start to scream in pain while he’s hitting my booty from behind.

  “Damn, girl, you really missed me, huh? Screaming like that and shit. Get as loud as you want, now, cuz daddy’s home….”

  When he’s through ten minutes later, he jumps into the shower, still whistling that damn song, and the only thing going through my head is: If Juan Carlos calls me, I am not answering. If Roger calls me, I am not answering.

  “Peanut, the water’s nice and hot!”

  I am not answering. Maybe I can fake being asleep—

  He appears dripping in the doorway in all of his African-warrior manliness, every little nook and cranny of him sculpted to perfection. “See anything you like?”

  “Give me a second.” Damn, I shouldn’t have said—

  “You want you some seconds, don’t you?”

  Why didn’t I say, “Give me a minute”? He couldn’t have done a damn thing with “minute”! Wait. He might have said, “I’ll be in it in a minute.”

  “I’ll be right there, okay?”

  “I’ll be waiting. Oh, and what’s up with the window in there?”

  Shit!

  Did he look out?

  “It, uh, keeps the bathroom from steaming up too much.”

  “Oh.”

  I watch him turn around. The man is an African god.

  “Sorry, Jenny,” I say, and I hop into the bathroom lusting for a god, and the first thing I do is look out the window.

  “Damn, girl, you lookin’ good!”

  Roger’s boxers are waving at me. They’re actually blowing in the breeze like a damn flag! I close the window.

  “Oh, you wanna get steamy, don’t you?”

  I smile and turn to him. “Yeah. I wanna get steamy.” I turn and face the water. “Wash my back.”

  “Yeah, I’m watching it….”

  Ouch … ouch … ouch …”I said ‘wash,’ not ‘watch’!”

  “Don’t worry, girl, I’ll soap you up something good….”

  And after the initial shock, he does soap me up something good.

  While Roger’s boxers wave at the world outside.

  Chapter 14

  I never thought all this good loving would kill me, but damn!

  Karl, as usual, gives me more than my booty can handle. I’m still drying off when he says, “I got some people I need to see.”

  Normally, I’d give him attitude, but today … today, I don’t have a whole lot left to give of attitude or anything else. “You’re leaving so soon?” I ask.

  “I’ll be back, girl.”

  “Tonight?” And please don’t say yes. Now my ankle, my booty, and my stuff hurt.

  He looks away. “I’ll try, but you know….” He shrugs. “It may not happen.”

  Which really means it won’t happen. “That’s okay. I need to rest.”

  He kisses me with more tenderness than usual. “I have missed you, Peanut.”

  I hug him to me. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Later.”

  Just ten minutes after Karl leaves, Izzie shows up.

  I am so glad Izzie’s not a lesbian. I couldn’t possibly do another person today.

  “Well,” she says once she sees what’s left of me on my bed. I didn’t even get out of the bed to meet her at the door. “You look worn out.”

  “I am.” I adjust some ice bags on both my ankles, and I almost want to put another bag on my booty and my stuff.

  “Lana, do you know you have a pair of men’s boxers waving in the wind on the side of your house? Is that some sort of signal?”

  “No.” I explain how they got there.

  “So, was one of your other men just here?”

  I nod.

  She smiles. “I thought so. Was that Karl I saw on the road?”

  I nod.

  “He was … handsome.”

  I frown. “Did you expect him to be pug-ugly?”

  “Well … I didn’t expect him
to be so fine.” She looks at my ankles. “Are you going to explain why you’re icing your ankles, or should I imagine the nastiest?”

  I tell her about the game, Roger’s visit, and then Karl’s … abilities.

  She fans herself. “I have just added Karl to my fantasy with Shemar Moore. Whoo! And I may even let Karl go first.”

  I sigh. “You can have him.”

  “Can I?”

  Damn, she’s eager! I lean back on the headboard. “You can have him, but for your fantasy only, Izzie. Only for your fantasy.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “I was last night, and that’s why I’m no fun today.”

  She starts to sit at the foot of the bed but stops. “You haven’t changed the sheets yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t had the time.”

  She sniffs the air. “Or used air freshener. Where is it?”

  “In the closet in the bathroom.”

  She gets the Oust and sprays the room so much that we both start coughing.

  “Was it that bad?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  I point to the foot of the bed. “Take a load off, Izzie.”

  “I’ll stand.” She laughs. “So, how was it?”

  “How was what?”

  “You know, having two men kind of at the same time.”

  I count in my head. “I had them more than twelve hours apart, Izzie.”

  “Who was better?”

  I shake my head. “They were both good.” Though with Roger, it was definitely more intimate and erotic, since we were facing each other.

  “Uh-huh.” She smiles. “And you thought this kind of thing wouldn’t happen, since you moved out here. Have you ever wondered what might happen if any of them caught on?”

  “They won’t.”

  “You have some white boy’s boxers waving in the wind, some nasty sheets on your bed because of Karl, and this room smells of hot and nasty sex. If they keep their eyes open and just go around sniffing the air, they’re bound to figure it out, and then you’re liable to get dumped three times.”

  I know it could happen, but… “Maybe only two will dump me, leaving me one man to play with.”

  “Bad things come in threes, you know.”

  I sigh. That little statement sometimes does come true. “I guess … I guess I could handle losing one of them, or even two of them, but losing all three? That would be hard.” And something I never want to think about happening.

  “Do you ever wonder if they’re being faithful to you?”

  I shrug. “Not really.”

  “They’re men, Lana. It’s not in their genes to be faithful.”

  “I know. I just don’t think about it.”

  She wipes a wrinkle from the bedspread, sitting lightly on the edge. “Well, maybe you should think about it.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs. “They’re good in bed, or so you tell me. They must be practicing somewhere.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re the only one I know who practices having sex, Izzie. Did you have a little threesome last night?”

  She shakes her head. “I tried a foursome.”

  I blink.

  “It wasn’t that good.”

  I don’t even want to imagine how she did it.

  She sighs. “Have you at least tested them lately?”

  “Like an AIDS test?”

  “No.” She laughs. “You know, tested them. Played with them a little. Put them on the spot.”

  “I don’t do that, Izzie. It’s not nice.”

  “Nice or not, I know the very test you should give them.”

  I hate humoring her, but at least my stuff is getting a rest. “Okay, what’s the test?”

  “I call it ‘The Next Step’ test.”

  “What’s that?” Although I think I already know, and I think I already played it with Karl this morning. Izzie probably read about this particular test in some women’s magazine.

  “Well, for Juan Carlos, the next step is to demand to meet his mama.”

  That would be a major step for Juan Carlos. “And when he says no, and I know he will, what will that prove?”

  “That he can’t possibly ever make a commitment to you. And since he can’t commit just to you, that means maybe he has a chica on the side he can commit to. Understand?”

  “That makes absolutely no sense, Izzie. Just because he doesn’t want me to meet his mama does not mean he has a chica on the side.”

  “There’s only one way to be sure….” She looks at my cell phone. “Give him a call.”

  “Okay.” I have to prove her wrong. Since it’s Sunday and he isn’t working, I dial Juan Carlos’s house, and he answers on the first ring.

  “Juan Carlos, it’s Lana.”

  “Is anything wrong?”

  Yeah, it is kind of weird for me to call him on a Sunday, when I know he’s home all day with his mama. “No. Um, I just wanted to ask if I could meet your mama today.”

  A long pause. “What are you saying?” he whispers.

  He whispers only when his mama is nearby.

  “I have been thinking that maybe it’s time we took the next step in our relationship, and I haven’t even met a single person in your family.”

  Izzie nods and mouths the word “perfect.”

  “What is this next step?” he asks.

  Juan Carlos sounds afraid. I’ve never heard fear in his voice before. Maybe I should ask to meet some of his second cousins first.

  “What is this next step, Lana?”

  I need to let him off the hook before he freaks out. “Oh, Juan Carlos, I’m just joking with you.”

  Heavy sigh. “I knew it. You are always kidding with me, Lana.”

  “Yeah. I’m such a kidder.”

  Izzie is shaking her head. I hate it when she’s right.

  “Lana, are you free tonight? I can get away late.”

  Three men inside me in less than twenty-four hours? Never! Though just to see if I could survive it might be worth it…. No. Two men will have to be my limit. I decide to be mean. “You can get out here tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean that you’ll have to sneak away later.”

  “You have never complained before.”

  True, but that was before last night in the tub with Roger, and today with Karl in the bed and in the shower. Hmm. “Well, I hurt my ankle at my game yesterday.” He never asks about my games.

  And then … he laughs! He actually laughs! “Oh, so no more dancing for you for a while. Ha!”

  Prick. “I gotta go. Bye.”

  I hang up.

  Izzie can’t contain herself. “I’ll bet he’s got a hot little Panamanian mama stashed somewhere.”

  “He’s Mexican.”

  “Whatever. He doesn’t want you to meet his family because maybe he already has one. Did you ever think of that?”

  “No.” I don’t like this doubt creeping into my mind. It’s not … natural.

  “Well, call the white boy.”

  “His name is Roger.”

  “Whatever.”

  I call Roger’s cell phone and get an “out of range” message. Then I call his apartment.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asks instead of saying hello first.

  “It still hurts, but I’ll manage. Are you busy?”

  “Just recovering.”

  “Me, too.”

  Izzie keeps leaning closer to me, and I wave her back.

  “Roger, I had a dream about you last night.”

  “Yeah? Were we covered in mud?”

  I smile inside. “No. We weren’t covered in mud.”

  Izzie’s mouth drops. Good.

  “In chocolate syrup, then,” Roger says.

  That sounds like fun! The bugs would have a field day, but… “And caramel syrup, too,” I add.

  “And whipped cream,” Roger adds. “With a couple of cherries.”

  This guy is making me hungry and horny at the same time.

>   “Were we, uh, in my apartment?”

  I normally love to play this game with him, and since I don’t want to disappoint Izzie and her fantasies … “Yeah, we were in your apartment with the drapes all the way open and five people watching us.”

  He doesn’t respond. Izzie seems to stop breathing.

  “Roger? You there?”

  “Yeah.”

  I have to calm us all down. “Let me get back to my dream.”

  “Just when I was getting excited.” He sighs. “Tell me about your dream.”

  “In my dream, we made us a milk chocolate baby.”

  Izzie’s mouth drops open further, and I put my finger to my lips.

  “Yeah?” Roger says. “Was it a boy or a girl?”

  “It was a dream, Roger. I didn’t check if the child had a package.”

  “Oh.”

  After some silence, I ask, “Does the baby’s sex matter that much to you?”

  “Well, I was just curious.”

  He doesn’t sound upset about my strange dream. Maybe this is a good sign, and though I know he’d rather continue talking about our “show” in front of his window, I ask him, “Tell me, truthfully, what do you think about my playing football?”

  “From doing it with an audience to milk chocolate babies to football, huh?”

  Even Izzie looks puzzled. I love tangents. They keep men on their toes.

  “We’ll get back to our show, I promise. So, what do you think about my playing football?”

  “Well, honestly, Lana, I worry about you.”

  The man’s knocking on my heart again. “You worry about little ol’ me?”

  “Well, some of those women are huge, and number thirty-nine had it in for you yesterday.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “And when I’m not worrying, I am simply amazed.”

  There’s that knocking again. “Yeah?”

  “As you’ve figured out, I’m not very athletic.”

  I smile. “You’re athletic enough, man. And limber. I don’t know how we did it in the tub last night.”

  Izzie grabs her chest. Good.

  “You were the limber one, not me. I didn’t know your legs could do that.”

  Neither did I. “Now what were you saying about being amazed at my football-playing abilities?”

  “Well, it amazes me how you can gracefully sack the quarterback.”

  “Gracefully?”

  He laughs. “You have awesome moves, Lana. And you’re so smooth. I wish you didn’t have to get so bruised up, though.”