Love's Inconvenient Truth

by Love Belvin

  I hid from his searing gaze. I didn’t need to disrupt the spiking pleasures in my groin. I tilted my head and stretched my mouth to release the silent cries that were desperate from the storm building until I collided with it and screamed in absolute unadulterated bliss.

  I muffled my yelps with his left arm astride my head and reduced them to moans, and when the moans spilled out from sheer self-consciousness, I burst my eyelids open to check Jack’s reaction and noticed his calm, yet deep penetrative drive to keep me in ecstasy.

  Once he realized I was done, he flipped me over onto my knees, facing the massive leather-tufted headboard and pushed into me with grace until I moved with him. He grabbed me at my shoulders and pulled my ass into his pelvis. The sensations were all too much for me to process and before I knew it, he raised his knee until his foot was flat on the bed, lifted my right thigh over it, and pounded into me with urgency. His right arm reached over my hip and nimble fingers circled my clitoris, sending heat shooting down to my toes.

  I didn’t know this much pleasure would be a part of the program.

  I couldn’t help but moan and without shame. Within seconds, my body shuddered as my second orgasm overtook me with fury. I wanted to scream his name in reverence of the pleasure he was bringing me, but thought it ridiculous to yell “Jack” to a one-night stand. It was his stage name and not the one reflected on his birth certificate, so I left his name out and focused entirely on the prickles of pleasure from his generous abilities to make my body sing.

  I would soon learn that this Jack was a stallion. After two violent and unexpected orgasms, he begged me for another and not necessarily via words, but through deeds instead. And boy, was he successful!

  It wasn’t until after that third orgasm of mine did he indulge in one himself. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t groan—and thank goodness. Instead, he grunted in the most masculine fashion that made me plow into him with wild abandon.

  The time whipped past in a blur as we indulged carnally in each other’s bodies and stopped when we were both replete and panting like two prize fighters.

  When Jack had emptied the last of his sea of men inside of me—via the condom, of course—I felt exhilarated. It was fun and exhausting, something I hadn’t recalled. Blame it on age. He lowered me from the wall he now had me pinned against and carried me weightlessly over to the bed, laying me down with care. It was very polite of him.

  I watched as he discarded the condom in the small trashcan next to the nightstand. Then he ambled to the other side of room, out of my view. I exhaled, perfectly content with post-coital pulsations throughout my limbs and groin. When I felt weight being applied to the other side of the mattress, I stilled.

  Was he going to leave first or should I? Perhaps I should go first.

  It was his suite after all; I hadn’t arranged it. I felt the comforter shift from underneath me, without a doubt from him peeling it back on his side of the bed.

  What in the hell was he doing?

  “Ummmm…Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  His deep droning voice stirred up something inside me. But those greedy desires had to go because our time together had expired.

  “I guess it’s time for me to go.” I felt like an ass for even saying that. Was I informing him? Asking his permission to leave? If I was going to do this thing I had to be less amiable with it.

  “No rush. Catch a nap before you go, Ann.”

  I caught the mocking inflection in ‘Ann.’ He thought I’d bullshitted him just as I thought he had me. For some reason that was unsettling to me. But why?

  “Okay. Thanks,” I whispered, still feeling the sting from his jab.

  Suddenly, I felt tingly sensations at the spine of my back. I shuddered at Jack’s touch. After some time, I’d determined he was drawing figure-eights into my bare back. Was that typical one-night stand conduct?

  For some odd reason, I was grateful for the soothing after-action. It lessened the blow of what I had done, what I had told myself I would never do again years ago.

  “Jack…”

  I heard him lift his head from his pillow as my back was still facing him.

  “Yeah?”

  “That was awesome.” That was my reciprocity. Why I felt the need to offer one was beyond me.

  “Ann, that was…phenomenal.” His words shocked him. I could tell by the way he spoke them.

  Then I felt his lips against my back as he kissed me in the center of my spine. That was definitely against the code of ethics!

  But it was…nice.

  Once I knew Jack was sound asleep, I also knew it was time. I needed to make my departure. There was no way I was sleeping with a stranger. More than that, drunkenness had faded and my reality was gradually settling back into view. I had a class in a couple of hours and needed some rest to prepare for.

  When I could hear the pattern in his slumberous breathing, my feet slowly swung over the bed as I acrobatically shifted my weight to not cause a creak in the mattress. Once in a sitting position, I slowly rose to my feet, but my damn knee cracked while at a 160 degree angle.

  Shit!

  There was a shift in his breathing pattern. I had been caught. But it was too late; I had to go. I’d put it out there, it was time for me to complete the act. I pulled my skirt down over my hips and tiptoed around the bedroom to collect all things that looked familiar to me: my clothes.

  Out in the hall near the door was my purse that I snatched up and gave a cursory search to be sure I wasn’t victimized. I couldn’t help but to observe the suite and the contemporary feel of it with its mahogany accents, wooden features and suspended lamps nearly reaching the bar. Nothing matched in the décor, but all blended well. It was eclectic, yet chic, furthering my lingering curiosity about this Jack and his demographics.

  I shrugged it off, drawing my attention back to more pertinent matters going back to my purse. When I felt all things were in place, I skirted out of the suite and had the concierge hail a cab once I reached the lobby of the hotel. It hadn’t dawned on me that I didn’t know where I was until the robust man in dapper livery bode, “Thanks for visiting Gild Hall. Goodnight, ma’am,” as he opened the door of the cab for me. In my shame, I threw my body inside the car, only offering a slight nod.

  After five hours of sleep, two of working out and realizing that I didn’t collect my panties from the hotel suite, I found my way to the salon. This was my bi-Saturday ritual: gym, hair, nails and feet and shopping before returning home to do nothing. Once in a while, I’d treat myself to a new restaurant as a means of experiencing the city. But that rarely happened because it was a bit odd eating alone and then having to turn down guys who viewed you as a damsel in distress. That took its toll on me, causing me to space out my solo date nights. After having my hair deep conditioned and pressed, I caught up on all the latest celebrity blather with ShawnNicole, my trendy stylist, who always had a great arsenal of the happenings of New York City’s who’s who.

  I hopped the train to hit SoHo for some shopping. It had become a pastime of mine since being in the city. I had an addiction to retail. It was a part of the new Elle. I didn’t come home with a wrist full of shopping bags, but I certainly indulged quite regularly in those things that anesthetized the hollowness inside. The red leather mini skirt that I’d purchased from a boutique that day, along with the tortoiseshell Prada bracelet I just had to have, made me feel accomplished.

  I made it home around eight that evening. Autumn was settling upon the city along with the sun and I was mourning the summer already, dreading having to pack away my short-shorts and tanks in exchange for cable-knit sweaters and Barbie doll boots. After putting away my latest fashion conquests, I poured myself a glass of chardonnay. I then strolled to the open makeshift closet across from my queen size bed and conjured a plan to get the heavy totes down to begin the daunting task when my phone rang. With a sulk, I deposited the wine glass on the nightstand and walked over to the counter in the kitchen area of my effici
ency studio to search for my phone. It was Clarice.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “I got so caught up in that god-forsaken kids’ party that I lost track of time. You’ve been out already, haven’t you?” I could hear the glaring sounds of traffic in the background. Then I heard her give an address.

  “Ummm…yeah. I just got back in.”

  “Damn! I knew it! I was really hoping to find a dress for the party next week.”

  Shit. I’d forgotten all about the firm’s party happening on Thursday. I didn’t relish socializing with colleagues.

  “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “So, you haven’t purchased anything for it yet?” I could hear her exhale.

  “No. You think there’s any way I could skip it and not be missed?” It’s not like I had a major role at the firm, very few would miss me in my absence.

  Clarice growled. “You know that’s not possible at a time when you’re being considered for a senior account position, Elle. You have to go. Besides you’ll knock them dead with your impeccable sense of fashion. I, on the other hand, will be lucky if I could just play your wingman for the evening.”

  It always pissed me off when she spoke so reproachfully of herself. She had the same buttermilk complexion as mine and had envy-worthy mile long legs that I would pay for. Clarice was beautiful.

  “You’re talking that self-debasement shit again, C. You shine brilliantly in your own light. No one can argue that.”

  “Well, if you consider my belly that now produces a muffin top in my jeans and the flab on my arms in that bright brilliant light, we need to turn the damn lights off immediately.” She sighed.

  I didn’t respond to that. She knew I wouldn’t. There’s but so much of a cheerleader I was going to be. I had my own bodily disfigurement battles and a dark history with them as well. It’s one thing to struggle with weight, something you can control, but when you’re mutilated with scars that cutting back on fatty foods or implementing a rigorous workout can’t cure, you become less sympathetic to those who suffered from the aforementioned. So, no—I would not provide sappy words of comfort. If you have a weight problem, get your ass up and do something about it.

  Clarice took the silence as a hint. “Why wouldn’t you want to go?”

  “I don’t know. Just not in the mood. I can find better shit to do.”

  “Like what? Work? You do know you’re in the lead for that position, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes as I sauntered back towards my bedroom to retrieve my wine. I definitely needed it now. Social situations. Ugh!

  “I haven’t been selected yet.”

  “No, but you’ve gotten past phase one of a two-phase selection process. You’ll be rubbing elbows with the big wigs of the firm. There will be more cocktail parties to come for you, hon.” As much as she was right about me having to attend more functions—if I was to be granted the position—I was still apprehensive about it.

  “Anyway. What do you have in mind to wear?” I deflected, something I’d mastered over the years.

  “Color? I have no idea. Why do you think I’m calling upon you?”

  She’s right. I should have known she didn’t have a single detail in mind. I couldn’t deny the fun in playing dress up with Clarice. Although she lacked fashionable imagination, she was very graceful and knew how to carry her look.

  “Let’s bring out the green specks in your hazel eyes. We’ll look for something emerald to embrace the fall season.” Like me, Clarice was light, but she had a beautiful red undertone and natural sandy blonde hair.

  “I’m your muse, baby!” She purred in her artificial Scottish accent. “Hey, maybe we can meet some hot, available guys to hang out with afterwards.”

  “Guys? What guys?” I scoffed. “The last I checked, all the available guys at J.G., Wizer and Hunter were old, grayed and two steps away from geriatric diapers. And the others are all of those things and married. I’m not interested in moonlighting with that.”

  Clarice laughed and hard, but then her tone turned suggestive. “I guess you haven’t seen the new flock of young professionals roaming the halls of the firm yet.”

  “No. They must be very new,” I snorted.

  “No. They’ve been there for a few weeks already. From what I hear, when the other partner, Hunter, died before you came aboard, he left his fortune to his son and that included his seat at JGW&H. So, this means that lad is young, connected and oh-so-rich! Oh, and from what I hear he is fiiiiiine!”

  I rolled my eyes in tedium. “The last thing I’d get my panties all in a bunch for is a kid, Clarice. Young boys ain’t my thing.”

  “What are you talking, girl! Those youngin’s are steeds in bed. Their energy is paramount and will go past the battery life in your B.O.B. Don’t knock it until you try it. Besides, there are men our age at the firm. Yeah, they may be few in number, but you never know until you put yourself out there and try. You may end up in a damn hotel room sweating your press out.” Clarice spun off into a laughing frenzy and I supposed that was when I should have taken the comical flight with her.

  My throat closed up and my breath hitched. I’d had my fill of impulsive encounters for a while. At that thought, my vaginal walls clenched as my mind flashed back to Jack’s gentle kiss when trying to warm me to his breadth. I still struggled with his sudden show of intimacy.

  “Hello! Earth to Elle!” Clarice shouted in my ear and I realized I’d taken flight.

  “I’m here. I’m sorry…what did you say?”

  I knew that with typical girlfriend-dom this would be the ideal time to share with her my story of the bizarre one-night stand that I’d experienced the night before with the tall, incredibly chiseled and out of this world gorgeous sex aficionado, but then I would have to orient her to my slag habits recurring and that’s not a place I’d wished to go.

  “You know you haven’t dated a single guy since you moved here, don’t you?”

  I had no clue of where she was going with this. Oh, that’s right! Because I had spaced out. Snapping out of it, I went over to pull down the huge tote stored at the very top shelf.

  “No, I haven’t. Why do you bring this up?” My words spilled out harsher than I intended them to and were met with silence.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s been long enough. It would be nice to see you in the company of a man.” I froze, holding the tote midair.

  I never spoke about it, not even in all of the three years I’d been in New York. Clarice and I were from the same little town just outside of Charleston, West Virginia. She was three years older than me and when her parents split while she was in high school, her father moved Clarice and her siblings to D.C., leaving their mother behind. Clarice really adored her mother, quite similar to my regard for my own, and I was sure her mother told her about the accident, but I never discussed it with her. I’d never discussed it with anyone. It was my mess, my hell to take up residence in myself.

  “Clarice, my career consumes a lot of my time and what’s left over from that goes to my hobbies. I don’t have time to be running around here in search of a man. My life is full. Thanks for your concern, but I am fine.” That acerbity was well intended. It was what I did to all the few people who tried to get me to talk about it. It was an effective tactic to get them to back off.

  “I know, but…” her voice trailed off and I took that as an opportunity to change the subject.

  “Tomorrow at noon.” I saved her the question as I exhaled deeply. “We’ll meet up on 5th Ave tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll find something there that’ll highlight your natural beauty.”

  Clarice offered a wry, “Okay.”

  And before she could think of another topic, I made my exit from the conversation altogether. “I gotta go. I need to switch my wardrobe to prepare for fall. I’ll shoot you a text in the morning.”

  “Okay,” was all she could get out before I hung up.

  The following day I met with Clarice and exhausted her until we foun
d the perfect pumps to pair with her stunning emerald green sequin dress. She was beside herself in satisfaction at how it draped her amazon frame and brought out the green in her eyes. We’d even stopped at MAC and picked up a shimmery green and silver eye shadow and a nude lipstick and gloss to top off her makeup. She said she had diamonds at home that she’d inherited from her paternal grandmother that would work great with her ensemble. Clarice’s hair was short and naturally curly. She maintained it well, so I could leave that minor detail to her.

  The day went by smoothly after I’d convinced her to drop several bills on the dress and shoes, reminding her of her impressive five figure salary that placed her in the upper echelon. There was no reason she couldn’t splurge every once in a while. Clarice had always been responsible with her money, so she had no excuses, in my opinion. When we split up to return home, I made her promise me to try on everything right away in order to not have any surprises on Thursday when she wouldn’t have time to make any changes.

  Later on that evening, as I sat on my sofa and watched reruns of The Game, my cordless phone rang from its base. I browsed at the clock and closed my eyes, feeling anxiety creep up on me. I didn’t want it to swallow me, so I turned on my auto-pilot as I went for my phone. I knew who it was. This call came every other week, at the same time. Years ago, I stopped running from it, and since I made that decision I had to stick with it.

  “Hello…”

  “Ellen! Hi, baby!”

  My heart warmed. Even in my thirty-five years of living, her voice shone through the dark clouds that haunted me. It was the worse dichotomy because she also reminded me of all those things that brought the darkness back.

  “Hey, Momma. How’s it going?”

  “It’s pretty much the same here, precious. The church is still going on. Charlie broke his hand and we went without a drummer today because Junior didn’t show up until after the morning message. I have a suspicion that he was hung over from a late night, playing at that new club in Charleston.” She sighed.

  I could envision her on the white couch in the sitting room, partially scooted off the seat with her slender legs crossed, and head buried in her hand as her elbows rested on the arm. I wondered if she wore her royal blue fluffy slippers or her Keds sneakers from having just walked Buffy.