by Roy Glenn
I considered myself to be a good judge of character, so it had almost become unnecessary to talk to Vanessa about the type of man Victor was. But on Monday, I called Vanessa and we played phone tag for a couple of days, before I decided to take a different approach.
“This is Natasha. Meet me tomorrow for lunch at Friday’s on Atlantic at one o′clock. Leave me a message if that’s not good for you.”
Vanessa returned my call a few hours later and left me a message.
“I need a secretary and so do you. One’s cool, but don’t be mad if I’m a little late. You know how this place can get. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That day I sat patiently waiting for Vanessa to arrive. At ten after one, Vanessa arrived and we ordered. Then she told me this fantastic story about the systems going down at work and traffic on the way here. “So, how are you doing? I like that suit, where’d you get it?”
“I’m doing fine. Working harder than I really like. Things are still a little chaotic with me transitioning to the new job. And I got the suit off the last-chance rack at Macy’s. So, how’s married life?”
“Natasha.” Vanessa took a sip of her ice tea. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it doesn’t feel any different.”
“That’s because the two of you have been living together for so long.”
“I guess. Maybe I was expecting fireworks or something; but so far our married life has consisted of me and Paul having a big expensive party. We went on vacation like we do every year. Victor met us at the airport and took us to the new house. Paul carried me across the threshold. We got up the next morning and we went to work. No big deal.”
“The wedding was beautiful.”
“Which reminds me, Natasha.”
“What?”
“What did you do to, Victor?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t sit there looking innocent like you don’t know who Victor is. That’s why you wanted to have lunch, so you could ask me about Victor. Ain’t it?”
“Well, ah—yeah. I did want to ask you about him. But that’s not the only reason, Vanessa. I haven’t seen or talked to you since the wedding.”
“Yeah, right. But tell me something.” Vanessa smiled. “And if you say that it’s not my business I won’t feel bad at all, but what’s up with you and Lloyd?”
“There’s nothing up with me and Lloyd. It’s finally starting to sink in that the relationship isn’t going anywhere.” I paused and thought about it. “And even if it was going somewhere, I wouldn’t be interested in going there.”
“I see. Just be careful and sure of what you’re doing. Now, about Victor. You’re all he wanted to talk about.”
“Really?”
“Tell me about Natasha. Natasha says this and Natasha likes that. I got so tired of hearing about you last night I had to throw Victor out.”
“Tired of hearing about me, huh? I’ll try not to take that personal.”
Vanessa threw up her hand. “Anyway.”
“You know him pretty well?”
“I’ve known Victor almost as long as I’ve known Paul. I met Paul on a Friday afternoon; he introduced me to Victor on Sunday afternoon. He’s good people.”
“What did he want to know about me?”
“Whether you were crazy.”
“I know you told him I was, so I don’t even have to ask.”
“Good. What do you want to know about him?”
“He’s not fatal or anything?”
“Victor? No. He’s not like that.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“You should be asking Victor this stuff. Or are you trying to verify his story?”
“Believe it or not, it never came up.”
“His ex-girlfriend, Chantel,” Vanessa paused. “She started getting on his nerves.”
“Really? Why?”
“Honestly, the bitch was crazy. So he dismissed her.”
“He dismissed her?” I asked with a bit of an attitude. “So he thinks he’s all that, huh?”
“No, girl, Victor’s not like that. But he does have them screaming. One night me and Paul had too much to drink, and Victor insisted that we stay and sleep in his bed. Okay, cool, so some time during the night somebody came by and he had her screaming so loud it woke us up.” Vanessa paused a moment. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Why not? That’s exactly the type of thing I need to know.”
The next day when I woke up in bed with Lloyd, on Saturday morning, after going out with Victor again, his last words are the first words I think of.
Maybe you’ll think about tonight and it will make you smile tomorrow.
It did.
I laid there smiling for a while, thinking about the night before. Then I looked over at Lloyd, and that was it for the smile. I was just about to get out of bed when Lloyd woke up. After our usual good-morning chitchat, I started to get up, but Lloyd wanted to have sex.
“You’ve been acting real funny lately, Natasha.” He said moving closer to me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. What are you talking about?”
But I knew exactly what he was talking about. Because of the way things are between us, I haven’t exactly been making myself available to have sex with him.
“We haven’t done it all week.” Lloyd said rubbing my thigh. “It’s like you’re avoiding me.”
“What makes you say that?” I said, starting to cringe at his touch.
“You’re always asleep or too tired every night.”
“Well, you could try coming to bed sometimes. That might help.”
“No. You being awake when I come to bed is what would help.”
No he did not actually say that to me. It made me feel like sex was the only real purpose I served for him. Like I was some high-priced hooker and he was my client.
“Okay.” I sat up in bed and took off my gown.
And if that’s all I meant to him, then that’s how I’ll treat him.
“Come on.”
“What?” He sat up in bed.
“You want some. Come on and get some.” I looked at him. “Never mind. Lay down on your back.
Lloyd quickly complied. With a big smile on his face, he lay on his back and stroked himself a few times. I got on top of Lloyd and I rode him furiously. All the while, Lloyd was trying to resist me, but that wasn’t happening. Once I made him come, I rolled off him and his body went limp. He was exhausted; and I got up and went to the shower without saying another word.
When I came out of the shower and went back in the bedroom, Lloyd had gone back to sleep. I got dressed and was ready to leave, when he woke up. He asked me where I was going, even though he knows that this is the weekend I volunteer.
“Lloyd, you know I’m going to volunteer today,” I said, knowing that he wanted me to go to a social luncheon.
“I thought we talked about that.”
“We did.”
“And we agreed that we would go to the luncheon.”
“No. That’s what you said, and I said no.”
“I never heard you say that,” Lloyd said, and I laughed.
“You never do and that’s the problem.”
“What did you say?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nothing.” I sat down on the bed. “I promised I’d be there to help her this time, Lloyd.” Last time I let him pressure me into not going and going to some golf weekend with his friends and their wives. Who, by the way, all hate me.
“Why can’t you go tomorrow? This is important.”
“Because it’s today that she needs me. Tomorrow there really won’t be any reason to go.”
“I don’t know why you have to be bothered with it.”
I don’t have time for this shit, I thought, but didn’t say.
“Those people have families of their own. I don’t understand why you have to be th
e one.”
“Those people? Really?”
“Really, those people.”
“You can be such an ass sometimes. Those people, as you call them, are our people. Our mothers, our fathers, our aunts and uncles. Even if you don’t, somebody has to care about those people.” I walked out of the bedroom to the sound of Lloyd screaming my name and demanding that I come back this instant, but not making a move to get out of bed.
I grabbed my purse and slammed the door on the way out.
I wonder what I would have done if Lloyd had actually gotten out of bed and come after me. But that would have meant that something that was important to me was important enough for him to get out of bed and come after me.
I laughed as I got in my car, pressed the ignition button, and woke up from that fantasy. It was right then that I began to mentally acknowledge my mental separation from Lloyd. And if I wanted to be honest with myself, it began long before I laid eyes on Victor. Meeting him just gave those urges to be done with Lloyd an excuse to express themselves.
Chapter Six
Victor
I pressed her against the wall, not allowing her to move away from me, and she didn’t seem to want to. Her hands immediately went to my back, clawing at my shirt as I planted kisses on her neck. I felt myself getting harder just thinking about how it would feel to be inside of her. I pressed my lips against hers, lingering for a moment while I savored the taste of her, before running my tongue along them in hopes that she would open up to receive my tongue in her mouth.
She did.
I groaned into her mouth as her sweet taste exploded on my tongue. She tasted so good; she felt so good; and she was mine, if only for these few moments.
I had to be inside of her.
But despite my irresistible urge to feel Natasha’s warmth, I wasn’t about to rush this. I planned to enjoy each and every second of this. I ground my hips into hers and felt her hips working in tandem with mine. Her soft breasts were pressed against my chest and I wanted to finally feel them in my hands, so I cupped one, and both our bodies trembled a little when I squeezed her nipple.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” Natasha sighed, and started to grind her body against my dick. I pulled back and looked at her face. Natasha looked amazing.
I started to unbutton her top and watched as it fell to the sides, revealing her cleavage and softly sculpted belly. She reached up and slid it from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She then snapped the front clasp of her bra, and I watched the prettiest titties I had ever seen fall free before my eyes.
Natasha made no move to remove the pencil skirt that she was wearing, and I didn’t want her to. She looked gorgeous just the way she was; and I wanted this image to stay with me. Everything about this woman was incredible.
She took a step toward me and kissed me softly. I gently took her face in my hands and tasted her tongue, before allowing one hand to blaze a trail down her body and reaching between her thighs. Natasha moaned and the look on her face said, please don’t stop, and she spread her legs a little wider. Our lips met again as I slowly rubbed her clit. I took her nipple in my mouth and felt it pebble beneath my tongue, while I then penetrated her with my finger and felt her clench around me.
I sat straight up in bed, breathing hard. I looked around the room and it took me a second or two, before I realized that I was dreaming and I was not about to have sex with Natasha.
I got out of bed and headed for the shower, thinking about how I’ve allowed Natasha to have me. I can’t think of anything without thinking of her. I turned on the shower and shook my head, because Natasha had reduced me to lines from a love song, because “she really had a hold on me.” I looked in the mirror.
“You trippin’ for real, kid,” I said to my reflection and got in the shower.
On my way to work I gave some thought to the dream I had that morning, and the inspiration behind it. I had known Natasha for almost two months now. We talk every day; we see one another just about every day for lunch or dinner, or just to get together and talk. Natasha and I have been to movies and museums and have taken walks to nowhere in particular.
When Natasha and I are together, neither one of us feels the need to act a certain way for fear of doing the wrong or inappropriate thing. And we have fun. We laugh. I can’t tell you how good it feels just to be silly sometimes, make funny faces, which by the way, Natasha excels at. But you know what I mean; I can finally be myself with a woman and trust me, being yourself and being with somebody that accepts you for who you really are—priceless.
And I haven’t even touched her.
That’s right, you heard what I said.
Other than the occasional brush of the hands, or me putting my hand on her back as she passes by when I open doors for her. Now, I gotta tell you: this no-physical-contact thing doesn’t usually happen with me.
Doesn’t ever happen, actually.
It’s been damn-near two months, and I have no carnal knowledge of the woman that I spend all my time with.
I understand why we are where we are. Natasha is in a relationship with another man. So, this no-sex thing may not be what I want, but I gotta say, it’s refreshing. I mean, I’ve met women and an hour later we had stripped down to the skin, and I was deep inside her. But with Natasha it’s been different. It’s not like I don’t want her, because I do. I want her badly. But what’s different is that sex is not the reason I’m there. I’m there because there is no place else I’d rather be.
When I got to the office it was in crisis mode, and I was dragged into a meeting. The problem was creating a role-based security group to establish controlled access to protect sensitive data in the system. It took me a minute to recognize the issue and awhile longer to come up with a solution that would satisfy all parties, but by the end of the day, it was resolved and Jack was, once again, telling me that I was the man.
Later that night, Natasha and I had gone to listen to some live music on the Riverfront Stage at The Landing, and then we stopped at Fionn MacCool’s Pub after we found out that we both would kill for their French dip on a toasted hoagie roll. We had ordered and I went to sit down, while Natasha went to the ladies room. When Natasha came back to the table she looked upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Natasha paused and got that look on her face that she gets when something disappoints her; which I had noticed a lot lately. I thought it was about Lloyd, but I didn’t ask.
“It’s just that people can be such jerks; that’s all.”
I turned around and saw a big, muscle-bound man standing at the bar, and he was looking at Natasha. “What did he say to you?” I asked, looking back at her upset face.
“It’s doesn’t matter, Victor.”
I shook my head and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, but I kept walking.
I walked up to big man and got in his space. “You disrespected the lady.”
“And?” he laughed a little.
“I think you should apologize to the lady, but I’m gonna give you a choice.”
He smiled. “What’s that?”
“You can either walk over there right now and apologize for disrespecting her, or one of us is going to jail and the other one will be in the hospital,” I said to him, and the woman behind the bars eye’s got big. “Choose quickly.”
He looked at me, nodded his head a few times, and then he laughed. After that I stood at the bar and watched as big man walked over to Natasha. I knew that he had apologized to her when her beautiful smile returned to her beautiful face.
“Thank you,” I said when he came back to the bar.
“No problem. And I want to apologize to you for disrespecting your woman.”
“She’s not mine,” I said sadly, and hoped he didn’t notice. “We’re just friends.”
Now I know what you’re thinking: I do.
You wanna know how I know?
Because I
’m thinking the same thing. And trust me, I have had this conversation with myself ever since I bumped into Natasha that night after Carmen Jones.
“You feeling all this for a woman that is not even yours?”
Stupid, right?
You don’t have to answer, I already know.
I’ve told myself that this is going somewhere, but to this point, Natasha hasn’t given me any indication that she has any intention of leaving Lloyd. We talk to each other throughout the day. Then we go out, we do things together; we have the best time. And then we say good night, she goes home, we reset and do it all again the next day.
We’re friends. And you know what? This is exactly what I asked for.
So even if I can’t have you, I would at least like to be a friend . . . for now.
But here’s the thing, I know there’s something there. Whether she says it aloud or not, I know that she is feeling me the way I’m feeling her.
Anyway, we were having our annual family cookout at Amelia Island State Park tomorrow and Rhonda had made her famous linguine salad. She wasn’t going to make it this year because she had to go out of town on business, so she told me to come and pick up the food and keep it at my house, which wouldn’t have been a problem, except she also made a “big-ass fruit salad”—her words. I told her that I didn’t have room for it.
“No problem,” Rhonda said. “I’ll call Paul and tell him to come get the fruit salad.” Because Rhonda generally doesn’t ask.
When I got off work and got in my car, I called Paul to see if he was going to meet me at Rhonda’s house. We had been talking for a while, when I noticed something funny about the way he sounded.
“You’re kinda touchy today, Paul. Something bothering you?”
“Nothing really, Vic. I’ve just been having a rush of conscience lately, that’s all.”
“What about?”
“About a lot of things;, but mostly about me and Bria.”
“You still messing with Bria?”
“No. Not since the last time.”
“Oh, I was about to say.”
“No, man, I haven’t seen or talked to her since the wedding.”
