by J. Nichole
Nicole throws her hands in the air. “You don’t have to worry about me kicking you out.” She grabs her purse from its spot on the table and lingers near me. She looks at me while she fondles her purse handles.
I stand and pull her by the waist into my chest. With my mouth on her lips before she can pull away, I give her a short but passionate kiss, just enough to keep me on her mind all day. Pulling away I slap her on the ass and say, “Better get to work.” I look down at her when she doesn’t move and laugh. “I know it’s tough. I could definitely take you back to bed with me right now and put us both back to sleep.”
With that she turns and walks toward the door. “With words like that you’ll have me losing my job.” She waves and walks out of the door. I return to the kitchen to clean my mess and hear the door re-open. “The spare is in the top drawer over there,” Nicole points, “If you leave you’ll be able to get back in. See you later.”
My plans for Atlanta were to stop in and seduce Nicole and be on my way. But after seeing her, especially after feeling her, I think my stay extended itself. Like Friday night when I painted for hours and lost track of time, with Nicole as my muse, I have an urge to paint. I sent my gear back with Chris, so I’m hopeless, but the urge is nagging me.
When I return to the bedroom to retrieve my phone I see my luggage neatly near Nicole’s closet. The bed has been made and the room looks as if what happened last night, never happened. Instead of climbing back in the bed and reclaiming some of my lost sleep, I retrieve my phone and head for the couch.
Searching for an art studio to squat in for the day is unsuccessful. If I wanted to take Nicole out for a date there are plenty of the paint and sip variety, but that would do nothing for my creativity. I could just grab a paint by numbers workbook from the store. In the middle of my search, my phone rings.
“Hello,” I say waiting for Chris to ask me a million questions that deserve no response.
“How was it,” he asks.
“Nicole is good. I’m glad I came here instead of going back. Did you drop my stuff off in my apartment?”
“If you’re still there I assume she didn’t kick your intruding ass out,” his tone condescending. Like Nicole would want to kick me out. I’m growing on her, slowly tearing down that wall she’s built up over the years.
“Why would she kick me out?”
Chris laughs and in the background, I can hear what sounds like the office manager asking him a question. “We’ll get into that another time. Maybe when you are back.” He responds to the office manager then asks, “When are you coming back?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I don’t want to monopolize too much of Nicole’s time. When I plan a trip to visit, instead of this surprise visit, I’ll stay for longer. “I’ll be home this week though. Miss me already?”
“Not at all, but I must admit I am jealous. Not having a schedule to live by, doing what the hell you want. And. And having Dad’s approval. Must be nice.” I scoff at his remark regarding Dad’s approval. Obviously, I’m not his favorite kid. “When you get back let me know if you need a ride from the airport.” We hang up and I start looking for a flight.
After I have a flight booked, a fresh shower, and Nicole’s key in my pocket I leave her apartment. On my way to an art studio I finally found, I call to check on Nicole. When she answers I ask, “What was the name of that art exhibit you visited?”
“Hey there mister.” The sound of her voice causes me to shift in my seat. I’m sure she doesn’t intend to sound like a phone sex operator but if she needed a part-time job she’s in there.
“Are you busy?” I should have led with that question.
“Not entirely, and the name of the place is Soulful Expressions.” I saw that place in my search results.
“Thanks. Get back to work. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Before she hangs up I hear someone in the background giggle.
I’ve heard driving around Atlanta can be a nightmare. But during this time of day, not many cars are on the road. But even if traffic was at a full stop I’d enjoy being in the car. When I go back to New York I’ll be shuffling around on foot or in the back of a taxi. I take my exit for the art studio and I’m pleased to see the graffiti that adorns the building and surrounding parking area. Walking in I pass a few eccentric types and I feel at home.
My spot in the studio is quiet, but I can hear music blasting from a room nearby. Everyone creates in their own element and once I get into the flow the only thing that matters is the paint and the canvas. Fortunately, the studio has art supplies on deck. I set up my canvas and grab the colors that have been coming to mind all morning. With my first strokes, the canvas changes from the stark white to a soft yellow.
As I build the painting, I choose a smoke gray for her sweat pants, and rose red for her shirt. But when I begin painting her head wrap I use a mixture of colors. As it comes together I laugh because I realize that although she was comfortable, and probably took little effort in throwing her outfit on that morning, it all came together. Even in her mess, she’s still perfect.
I’m satisfied with the smile that I was able to capture. Certainly, it’s her best attribute. I add in a few background details and place my paintbrush on the table beside the easel. I stand, taking a few steps back to gaze at the final piece. I came here to release my creative juices but after viewing this piece I’m more inspired to keep painting, but I don’t want to keep my inspiration waiting on me.
On my way out I pass the room producing the loud music and stop to watch the artist in action. Instead of an easel, her canvas is on the ground. Steady strokes are replaced by erratic motions, tossing paint randomly on the canvas below her. From outside of the room I’m unable to see the actual art, but I’d be interested in seeing how it turns out. Before I turn I realize her paint is falling to the beat of the song playing throughout the room.
The receptionist, a man with a pin through his nose and pad locks hanging from his ears, is concentrating on the computer in front of him. “I’m all done,” I say as I place my canvas on the floor in front of me.
“Let me grab your phone.” One of the rules of the studio is to check in your phone before your session. They promote distraction free creativity. When he hands me my phone he says, “If you’re interested, we have a monthly exhibit featuring art created here in the studio.” With a pamphlet outstretched he says, “The next one is the last weekend of the month.”
I tap a reminder in my phone and thank him on my way out of the door. The traffic on the return trip to Nicole’s apartment solidifies the Atlanta traffic statistics. The longer I wait in the trail of cars, inching along the highway, the more I miss Tennessee. Taking a look out of the window, the lady creeping along the highway next to me makes eye contact. She smiles with her eyebrow cocked. I return her smile, and if it were any other time I may have even tried to persuade her to roll her window down so I could talk to her. Instead I smile back then turn to the road ahead of me.
Although traffic was thick, I beat Nicole home. Inside I find a nice spot for her to consider hanging my painting. Behind me I hear the door unlock and stand in front of the painting, blocking her view of it until I have time to tell her about it.
Chapter Sixteen
Nicole
Bryan’s broad body standing in my living room as the first thing I see after a boring day at work causes me to flash back to last night. When we gave up the effort of not having sex, and instead dived head first into a love making session, that was the absolute best way to break my curse and end my vagina’s drought. “Hey there,” I say as I drop my bag on my kitchen counter. Bryan maintains his position in the living room and I say, “Did you explore Atlanta today?” He nods his head.
I walk toward him and he reaches out for me. Closing our personal space, I look up at him and he smiles. As he rests his head on mine, I close my eyes and will time to stand still. I pull away before he does and I ask, “You cool?” He shakes his head and I continue, “Want to tell
me about it?” After years of messing around with different guys, avoiding heartbreak by acting as if commitment wasn’t a big deal to me, now to have a guy that I don’t want to act with anymore is scary. Now that he’s got the goods he could switch it up on me. All the affection and attention could come to a halt.
“I told you about the women I’ve painted in the past.” I nod my head. “I painted you today.” I step away from him and my eyebrows gather. One of his paintings is hanging on the bedroom wall of Mrs. Davenport’s, the woman he had an affair with, hanging just above where she and her husband undoubtedly lay their heads at night, an odd revenge effort by Mrs. Davenport. “The studio I found here in the city was just what I needed today.”
“Just like the others. I’m now immortalized on a canvas?” Bryan stares at me with his eyes squinted. “Not sure how I feel about that.” Bryan steps aside and reveals the painting. I’ve seen his paintings before, but not in person, all images I scrolled through on his phone. The way he captured me in my sweats and headscarf, I can’t describe. My mouth drops. “Bryan…”
“I didn’t think about how me painting you would make you feel like the women who came before you.” I sigh because although the painting, and his perception of me even while wearing sweats and a headscarf makes me feel like he sees more of me than just what he can get from me, I don’t feel special. Him painting me isn’t unique. Him painting me puts me into the group of all the women who came before me, the women he refused to settle down with. He grabs my chin and says, “Your thoughts are all over your face. Although I painted you, I don’t view you as the others. I view us differently.”
He closes his eyes then re-opens them, taking me by the wrist and guiding me to the couch. Instead of taking a seat beside him he pulls me onto his lap. Staring at the painting and examining each detail, I take note of the colors he chose, especially those woven through the headscarf. “Your memory is ridiculous.” He shifts below me. “Thank you for the painting.” Turning from the painting and making eye contact with Bryan I say, “But you’re right, the gesture has me in an odd place.”
“I’ll tell you this. Those women may have received a painting from me, but that was it.” He looks to my kitchen then back to me. “You’re the first women I ever cooked for.” Resting his hand on my thigh he says, “And you’re definitely the only.” He taps his finger where his hand rested. “Only woman I’ve ever wanted to wait with, to get to know, to not only want a sexual encounter with.” I roll my eyes. “I know words alone don’t carry much weight.” I shrug my shoulders. “Let me show you.”
Part of me wants to take Bryan to my bed and let him show me sexually, one last time, then dismiss this… this relationship or whatever it is we have going on. Part of me wants him to prove to me that he does want this, that I am different. “Okay,” I finally mumble. “I’ll let you show me.”
He rakes his hand over my thigh before saying, “How about let’s start with dinner. What do you usually eat during the week?”
Moving off his lap to sit beside him, I laugh. “You know I have no issue eating sketchy food.” His eyes grow wide but he doesn’t speak any objections. “If you weren’t here I’d open my drawer full of menus and select a place that delivers. Not necessarily places I’d dine-in at, but decent food.”
“You are determined to have me sitting on the toilet.” My smile grows. “Don’t you remember your last day in New York?” The food truck festival had me ailing, but Bryan jumped into action and brought me medicine.
“I haven’t had any issues from the places I’ve ordered from.” I walk to my drawer and grab a handful of menus. Bryan walks up behind me looking over my shoulder.
“How about that one?” He picks the Chinese takeout menu. “What do you order from there?”
“Sweet and sour chicken, and egg rolls.” I turn to him with my eyebrows arched. “Do you want the same?”
“I should probably stick to the same; trying something else may have me all messed up on the plane tomorrow.” I stare at Bryan for a minute before he kisses my forehead. “I don’t want to throw your whole week off, and I need to get home to find an art studio before rent is due.” I laugh, knowing that Bryan’s money issues are nothing like my money issues. I’m sure we could compare bank records and see a stark difference. “Next time I come, I’ll make sure to plan it out with you.”
“When do you plan to come back?” The time between now and the next visit will be a true test for me. I’ve woken up a sleeping monster and to tell her to wait patiently before she can have any more action will be torture.
“In a few weeks.” He grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Just about the only beverage I have besides wine and liquor. “Will that work for you?”
A few weeks is sooner than I expected, but I don’t want to appear excited or disappointed. “I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” Holding the menu up I say, “Let me grab my phone to order this food. Should probably give you enough time to get the food worked out before your flight tomorrow.” I nudge him in the side. “What time is your flight?”
Grabbing his belly he says, “It’s at noon.” He takes his bottle of water back to the couch and sits across from the painting. “Think you want to hang it up?” Considering most of my art in the apartment is stock art from a random website, I’d be happy to replace it with a one of a kind piece, especially from my favorite artist.
With my finger in the air I speak into the phone, repeating our order of sweet and sour chicken and egg rolls. After hanging up, I walk into the living room to where he is sitting on the couch. The large, red rose ordaining the wall from the Decor Store isn’t special. I point to it and say, “There, we can take that one down.”
Bryan looks behind him and says, “You mean this one of a kind blooming rose?” He stands beside me gazing at the canvas. “I’d hate to replace this piece of fine art.”
“You’re right. I should find it a new home, worthy of its presence.” I look to him and say, “Think you can get it on the plane without someone trying to steal it from you?” Reaching for the painting he smiles and pulls it off the wall, placing it beside the couch. Gently he hangs my custom piece on the wall and I gasp.
“Who knew I needed a custom self-portrait in my apartment? It’s gorgeous.” I turn and wrap my arms around his waist. “Even if I was like the others, and this is your parting gift to me, I don’t think I would be mad anymore.” He laughs and slaps me on the butt. “Now I need to go get into an outfit similar to the one that inspired this painting.” I walk toward my bedroom and say, “The delivery should be here soon. Can you answer the door when they get here?”
“Sure,” he responds behind me. In my bedroom, I pull off my clothes and as promised, I shrug into a t-shirt and sweats. In the bathroom, I pull my hair back and tie my colorful scarf around my head then wash off my make-up. I gaze at myself in the mirror and smile at my fresh face status.
A few taps sound at my door and I listen as Bryan walks over. I forgot to give him the money. I walk to the kitchen and dig in my purse when I hear Bryan say, “My bad, you’re here to see Nicole?” I drop my wallet when I hear the response from the guy at the door. Walking up behind Bryan I see Kevin standing in front of him.
“Hi, Kevin,” I say and Bryan walks away leaving me to face Kevin.
“I was in the area and hadn’t heard from you in a while.” He looks behind me then says, “I should have called first.”
I don’t know how I should respond. Although Bryan isn’t standing nearby I’m sure he’s listening intently. “Yeah.” Biting my lip I continue, “Call you this weekend?”
He nods his head and turns to walk away but before he’s out of sight he says, “I’ll talk to you this weekend.” I close the door softly and take my time turning around. Bryan isn’t in the kitchen or the living room, but before I can make it to the bedroom, another knock at my door sounds. Grabbing my wallet, I open the door hoping this time I see the deliveryman.
With the bags in
tow I walk toward the bedroom and tell Bryan the food has arrived. Bent over his luggage he looks at me and says, “On my way.”
Plating the food, unlike I’d do if I were home alone, I set each of our plates at the counter and grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Wine with Chinese?”
“If you haven’t had sketchy food with a glass of wine you have missed out,” I say smiling.
“Maybe that’s how you coat your stomach and prevent an onset of the shits.” I burst out laughing. “I’m down if it’s worked for you. Pour it out.” We each take a couple of bites of the food without any words. Then Bryan sets his fork on his plate and says, “Is Kevin one of your dudes?”
Mimicking Bryan’s actions I place my fork on my plate and say, “We’ve gone on a date before.”
“Just one date,” he asks with his eyebrows raised. I nod my head and he says, “Damn, it takes a dude with some huge balls to show up unannounced.”
My eyes bulge and I shake my head in disbelief. “Are you talking about yourself or Kevin?” Considering Bryan surprised me just a day before without a call or plans, he must agree that his actions were bold.
Bryan cackles. “You’re right.” He tugs at his crotch. “I do have balls for showing up surprising you. Excuse me for feeling like I’m any different from any of your other dudes. Glad I already planned to talk to you before popping up next time,” he says sarcastically.
“Ah, sounds like you know how it feels to be in comparison with the others,” I say with a smile. “Doesn’t feel quite right to be lumped into that category, right?”
Bryan sucks in his lips, sending all types of hormonal signals off in my body. I’m trying to keep calm and have an adult conversation but my body is being petty wanting to just get in as much pleasure as I can before he leaves tomorrow. “It doesn’t feel right.” He looks at me. “For some reason it seems like we are both beyond that bucket of fuck buddies.” He places both hands on the counter, spread apart. “Like we are over here.” He looks at his right hand then to his left hand. “And they are over here. Miles apart.”
