Nasty

by Dr. Xyz

  And the doctor was right. She could feel that warm sensation when she walked, when she ran, and she swore on the Bible whenever she breathed too deeply. Her pink little electronic buddy, that she was happy she remembered to bring on the trip, never left her side. Nicola decided to cancel the last week of her spa visit, and make a surprise visit home to her husband. There was no way he could complain about her taking too long to respond now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When the limo pulled into their tree-lined block located in the famous Hamilton Heights section of Harlem, the sound of John Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things,” was blasting in the street. She knew Harrison was the culprit before she stepped out the car. Nicola smiled. Though the man was a virtual saint, he did have one bad habit…he played music way too loud. He was like a teenager. She opened the front door with her key. The driver carried her matching Gucci luggage, and set all four pieces down in the foyer. She tipped him generously and he left.

  The house was pitch dark, except for a flickering light peeking out from the den. Oh, thought Nicola, my baby’s chilling by the fireplace listening to his music. Feeling lucky, she hoped he was relaxed and ready for action. She sneaked over to the liquor cabinet, poured brandy into two large glasses, and quietly entered the den to greet her man.

  What she saw, she would not have been prepared to see in a million years. In front of the fireplace, facing away from the door, Nicola discovered Harrison ramming his penis into someone’s ass. She watched the scene for what seemed like an eternity. The couple was not aware that she was there. She was in shock. As Harrison’s pumping action intensified, he yelled as he had never yelled with her. “I’m coming, baby! I’m coming!”

  She watched as her husband thoroughly enjoyed what appeared to be an extremely intense orgasm. He had never responded with as much passion with her as she now witnessed. She was hurt and jealous. When his pleasure subsided, he spun his partner around and they engaged in a deep kiss. The light from the fire increased fully for a second, just long enough for Nicola to see and realize for the first time that Harrison’s lover was a man.

  And it wasn’t just any man. It was Sebastian La Roux. She remembered him from her days at Riker’s Island. He was a notorious prisoner that had stricken fear in all the staff whenever he came to the clinic for a visit. Which, unfortunately for them, was far too often. In shock, all she could think was, How could he betray me, and with such a low-life! HOW COULD HE!

  The flames from the fireplace seemed to jump out at Nicola. She immediately transferred back into time. Back to when she was a little girl, watching the house she lived in burn down. They were both the same flames. They both destroyed something equally powerful in her life: the evil she unfortunately grew up in as a child and the love she had for a man she worshipped almost as much as she worshipped God.

  The flames pulled all the horrible memories of her tragic life into the forefront. She screamed as thoughts of her earlier abuse mingled with the pain and disappointment she now experienced because of Harrison’s betrayal.

  Harrison yelled at his lover, “Sebastian, leave! I’ll deal with you later!”

  “But why I gotta go? Send her away!”

  Harrison looked up at the towering giant, and decided to deal with him less aggressively. “Please, just go down to the Rusty Nail. I’ll be there later.”

  Sebastian looked at Nicola with disgust. She was oblivious to both of them.

  “That bitch ain’t even here; she so in shock. But…I’ll leave…uh-ruh…” He held his hand out, waiting for a donation. “Forget something?”

  Harrison looked for his wallet, snatched out several hundred-dollar bills, and threw them at him. Sebastian made a face at Nicola and left.

  Harrison tended to his wife. She was hysterical. He never knew about the abuses in her life. Nicola was now rambling off details of what happened to her as if she were a reporter giving a biographical rundown of a victim. She spoke of her childhood in the third person, never admitting that it had actually happened to her.

  Nicola finally stopped the endless chatting about her childhood. She sobbed uncontrollably throughout the night. She never yelled at Harrison. He was so disappointed and ashamed of himself. He had never wanted his princess to discover his extracurricular activities. He rocked her in his arms all night long.

  He left home as the morning sun was rising.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Nicola, I never wanted to hurt you.” Harrison mixed chicken gravy into the grits, and while waiting for them both to cool, he stuffed a small piece of cornbread in his mouth, and added, “I love you completely.” Why did she meet him at T-Lilly’s Place? It was his favorite soul food restaurant. They were sitting in his favorite booth. It should have been a neutral location…a place she didn’t have to watch him eat. Knowing what she now knew about him made looking at Harrison pack his face with food a disgusting event. But curiosity and something called stupid compelled her to meet with the man she would have given up her life for.

  Nicola spat out with vengeance, “You mean like a real ‘man’ loves a woman? I don’t think so.” Her lawyer had advised her not to have any contact with Harrison. She was now really mad at herself for not listening. The divorce was only two weeks away and there was really nothing he could say that would change her mind.

  “I know, in my heart of hearts, that I am a man.” Squirming in his chair, uncomfortable, he looked around to see if anyone could hear his declaration and added, “I am not a homosexual. I just…just…” Harrison looked at Nicola and whispered, “I just need a little variety every now and then.”

  “Oh, so that’s what you faggots call fucking now? Variety? Umm, interesting; very interesting.” Nicola coldly stared at the man she had once thought could replace the Pope in the Vatican; he had been that pure of heart.

  “Before I met you, I only flirted with it, curious like. I went to the bars every now and then. Maybe had one or two or…”

  “Or three thousand homo-dates or whatever you call them!”

  Breaking the tension, the waitress arrived and set a cup of hot tea, lemon and honey in front of Nicola.

  “Anything else, Miss?”

  Nicola shook her head and the young girl, grateful for the opportunity to wait on other tables, left them alone.

  Harrison looked at his beautiful, soon-to-be ex-wife. Her contempt for him was palpable. “When I met you, Nicola, it all stopped. You were my world. You rocked it completely. I never needed anyone but you. You have to believe that.”

  With cold eyes ready to spit fire with the slightest provocation, she lashed out, “What the hell changed everything then?”

  “It was not being able to give you that baby.”

  Pissed at his flimsy, self-serving excuse, Nicola blurted out, “Give me a fucking break…”

  Ignoring her dismissal of his explanation, he continued, “At any rate…that’s when I started hanging out at the Rusty Nail.”

  Nicola looked at him, puzzled. “The Rusty what?”

  “It’s a gay bar in Chelsea. At first it was to have a drink and listen to the music.”

  “I know.….‘just a Coke and smile.’ Yeah…right!” Her sarcasm was biting. She poured honey and squeezed lemon juice into her cup of tea. A few drops squirted into her eyes. She wiped them away, wishing that wiping away the memory of Harrison’s betrayal could be just as simple.

  “At first it was for a…‘Coke and a smile,’ as you call it. But then I met Sebastian La Roux.”

  “That beast!”

  “He’s not a…well…I guess…” Harrison stopped defending his lover as images of how, as part of their foreplay, Sebastian had repeatedly lifted him up and “playfully” slammed him against the wall. “…well…yes…he is kind of a beast. It’s probably why I was attracted to him.”

  Nicola rolled her eyes. “I remember his demon-ass from Riker’s.”

  “Nicola, I never wanted my downtown life to mix with my uptown life. But, I had vowed to myself that aftern
oon in the den that it would be my last time. And, darling, I’ve never been back with him, or anyone else. You are still the love of my life.” He looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that it was all futile, but somehow hoping that she could forgive him.

  She looked long and hard at Harrison. For the first time in all their years together, she got a real good look. He was not a saint. He was just a man; one who wanted life his way and on his terms. And sexually, well, he obviously wanted goodies from both sides of the aisle. She thought about how he had manipulated her. He had made her think her demands for sex were abnormal. Made her go all the way to Mexico to get collagen shots in her vagina; just to make sex easier for him. Dammit, every time she got that warm feeling between her legs, it made her gag and run to the bathroom to vomit up any desire she had ever had for this selfish creature who now sat across from her.

  Angered and embittered by his adulterous behavior, Nicola rose up, knocked her chair down and screamed out loud, without any regard for the other customers in the packed restaurant, “But that last time was the bitch, now, wasn’t it? Didn’t expect to have an audience for your last performance…NOW, DID YOU?”

  Nicola, sickened by him and his deed, and wanting to hurt him as he had hurt her, looked down at the steaming hot tea, picked it up, and threw it in his lap. Harrison jumped up from the table and tried to dry himself off.

  He yelled, “Have you lost your mind? ARE YOU CRAZY?”

  “Yep! I’m the crazy bitch that can’t stand looking at you. Seeing that monster’s nasty hands on you…just…don’t ever…don’t ever call me again! I’ll see your ass in court!” She ran out of the restaurant.

  Two weeks later, Nicola stormed into the top hair salon in Harlem, wearing a skintight black Jasmine Lee suit and a pair of diamond-studded stiletto heels designed especially for her by Stu Evans. She ordered Tia, the Dominican head stylist to, “Cut it off; just leave a little peach fuzz.”

  The beautician had cared for Nicola’s long black thick hair for years. She could barely perform the deed. In a thick accent, as locks of hair fell on the carpeted floor, Tia pleaded, “Mija, you sure? I can stop now.”

  Impatient for the deed to be completed, she yelled at Tia, “Goddammit, it’s just hair! Speed it up!”

  The hairdresser pleaded, “But, Mija, all of it? I know; I’ll give you a nice bob or…”

  Angry, Nicola rose up from the chair, and stared the petite Tia down. “I’ve got to be in court in less than two hours. If you don’t cut this shit all off and soon, I’ll go right on down the block to the barber. He won’t have any trouble.”

  Thirty minutes later, Tia gave her exactly what she asked for. Never looking at the mirror, Nicola left the beautician a two hundred-dollar tip. Tia called after Nicola as she quickly exited the shop, “Mija! Mommy! ’Dis…’dis…is too much!”

  Nicola never looked back. She hopped into a waiting limousine and ordered the driver to take her to the courthouse.

  Her soon-to-be ex-husband had loved her long black hair. She remembered how he had enjoyed playing beauty shop. He had assumed the role of the gay beautician as he plaited her hair. She would laugh uncontrollably for hours, never suspecting that he was not acting.

  Harrison gasped as she strutted into the courtroom with her new look. Sitting in the chair next to her high-powered attorney, Nicola smiled. Witnessing his expression was worth every penny she paid Tia.

  The proceedings went quickly, without any complications. Harrison was extremely generous. Nicola now owned half of his empire, which included several McDonald’s franchises, three apartment buildings on the West Side of Manhattan, the Harlem brownstone, beach houses in Miami and the Hamptons, and 1.5 million dollars in alimony every year.

  Later that day, Nicola leaned against the railing of her rooftop garden. The setting sun had toasted the Northern sky a reddishorange glow. It was chilly outside. Trembling, Nicola pulled a mohair shawl over her shoulders. It was spring, but like relatives who did not know when to leave, winter was still hanging around.

  From this spot she could hear her next-door neighbor chant his Muslim prayers. His melodic almost haunting voice soothed her in a strange and exotic way. It reminded her of the time she and Harrison had spent in Tunisia.

  That was three years ago. They were so happy then, or rather, she was happy. She doubted if he had ever really loved her. She remembered how Harrison had always made mysterious disappearances on those trips. Always under the guise of, “Just taking care of business, lovey.” Some business? BULLSHIT, thought Nicola. He was more than likely slipping out for some gay rendezvous.

  She felt so stupid. How could she have not known? How could she have been so blind? Now that she was divorced, she had time to deal with the issues of her childhood. Since that night when she had discovered Harrison and Sebastian together, she had found it impossible to decipher if the scenes from her past were real or imagined. They were so horrible. She had heard about false memories and had prayed that it was so with hers. She needed a way to pick out the truth of what had happened back then.

  The private investigator, thought Nicola. The one she had hired years earlier to find her birth mother. That’s who could help her. She decided to contact him. He would help link the dots of her memory. For the first time in months, Nicola smiled and mused, soon the whole truth will emerge…then maybe I’ll get a chance to start my life all over again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Carlos…I’m gonna come, baby….I’m….OH YES…SWEET BABY JESUS!”

  Carlos lay on his back as the two-hundred fifty-pound, light-skinned Amazon rode his dick like a jockey rides a stallion in the Kentucky Derby. Her pendulous tits flopped in all directions. Her nostrils widened large as the expression of her freckle-laden face changed into a pleasure-seeking alien, hell-bent on getting the best orgasm on the planet.

  Beads of sweat shot out from every pore of her body. Carlos guided her butt up and down, repeatedly ramming his enormous twelve-inch pole through a maze of juicy flesh. Wanting to speed up her “race” to an ecstatic finish, he rubbed the ultra-sensitive tissues on her love knob back and forth. He could feel her insides spilling out juices in joyful response. She was ripe. She was ready. She was ’bout to come.

  “CARLOS…It’s here, baby…YOU DOING IT…YOU DOING IT, BABY!!!”

  Carlos almost had another orgasm from merely watching the performance. He loved watching women come. Especially the big ones. They put all their weight into it. And this one came hard.

  “OOOOOOH, Carlos…Carlos…..OOOOOHH…BABY!!!” Almost tearful, she collapsed on his chest and held him like life depended on it. And then she went and spoiled everything for Carlos. She whispered in his ear, “I love you, Carlos…baby…I love you so much…”

  Later that morning, Carlos could see the ‘What the fuck?’ look on the young women’s chubby face when he pulled his jet-black Jaguar sports car away from the curb and, more importantly, away from her and her clinging ways.

  She said she wanted breakfast. I dropped her off at McDonald’s. Why’s she upset?

  Navigating midtown Manhattan traffic, Carlos knew that after a morning of hot, torrid lovemaking, women expected you to be so smitten…so grateful…so indebted…he was supposed to love and worship her dirty drawers, or at the very least take her out for a fine breakfast. But, if he did that, she’d think she was special. When women think they’re “special” their commitment genes activate. Pussy never feels the same after that.

  Carlos wanted no parts of attachment with women. He was the pin-up boy for fuck ’em and dump ’em. The music business was his only passion. Building the new record company with his brother, Tarik, took all his focus and attention.

  But that wasn’t the real reason.

  In all his twenty-five years on the planet, Carlos had never had a crush or the slightest desire for what the poets or crazy R&B songs called romance. When puberty had set in and his loins had demanded something other than his hand for pleasure, he had felt betrayed. H
e knew he had to be with the opposite sex or he would explode in a million different pieces.

  At six feet, he was considered tall, trim and terribly fine. With his clean-shaven head, an ever present diamond stud in his left ear, and designer suits that showed off his lean muscular build, women came easy to him; way too easy. He quickly figured out early in the game that females would let him have his way with them. He was even upfront about his non-intentions and still they laid down, still thinking that wrapping his dick up in their tight little juicy vaults of desire would make him lose his mind.

  But all it ever did was make him come hard and dump the woman as soon as he detected even the slightest inkling that she wanted more than he was ever going to give. And he always wrapped it up tight; real tight. He wasn’t bringing any baby Carlos’s in the world. One was enough.

  And that’s why the cute plus-sized freak had gotten her walking papers that morning. Not only did she profess her love for him, she had wanted him to meet her mother. What the hell for? he thought. He had a mama; he didn’t need to know hers. What was he gonna say when he met her? Hello, my name is Carlos. I only want to fuck your fat ass daughter’s brains out.

  No, there was no reason to meet the family or keep the relationship in “active” status. It was easier to drop her off in front of McDonald’s and refuse to answer any of her calls. It was actually the humane thing to do, and Carlos was all about being the humane kind of brother.

  He glanced at the clock. Good, he thought. There was plenty time to run some errands in Greenwich Village and pick up his brother, Jonathan, at JFK airport. His seven-foot sibling was returning from a trip to California, where he had visited the college he was attending in the fall. A star athlete while in high school, Jonathan had won an opportunity to participate in an elite NBA summer camp held in Harlem.