Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me

by Maxwell, Megan

  A patient Eric wipes away my tears.

  “No, sweetheart. None of that is true.”

  “Yes, it is,” I insist. “You’re a sexually active man and . . . and . . . I’m just a cow!”

  He smiles, sits next to me on the bed, and puts his arms around me.

  “Listen, beautiful . . .”

  But I don’t listen and, between hiccups and the most ridiculous crying, I go on.

  “I’m afraid you’re not asking for what you want, and in the end, you’ll get bored and leave me!”

  Eric is surprised.

  “Why would I leave you, sweetheart?”

  “Because I’ve become so weepy, horrible, grumpy, and deformed, and you don’t like it. You aren’t looking for me anymore. You don’t want to play with me. You don’t throw me up against the wall to make love to me.”

  My guy hugs me. He cradles me until the hiccups go away.

  “Kiss me,” he says. “I’m asking for what I want. I want you to kiss me right now.”

  Hearing that makes me cry more. Why am I being so silly?

  Am I really going crazy?

  I sob and scratch my neck. Eric pushes me lovingly down on the bed. He takes my hand from my neck so I won’t scratch anymore and kisses me.

  “You are the most beautiful thing and what I want and desire most in the world. You’re beautiful—the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth to me. You’re so special that I’m afraid of hurting you. Don’t you understand?”

  “Why would you hurt me?”

  He fixes his impressive eyes on me.

  “Because you and I are savages when we make love.” He’s right about that—we are tremendous!

  “But the doctor said we can continue doing it as usual. We’ll be careful and . . .”

  Eric smiles and kisses the tip of my nose.

  “I know. But I don’t want to hurt you. Your body is experiencing too many changes, and I’m afraid. Put yourself in my situation for a moment, please, sweetheart.”

  “I do, Eric, but my hormones are totally out of control, and I need you.”

  He smiles again. He gives me a kiss, two . . . more hot and kinky kisses.

  “Now I’m going to sit you on me, and we’ll do it again but carefully, OK?”

  I nod and smile. I’m getting what I want.

  Let’s do it again!

  I’m so spoiled.

  When I sit on him, I let his cock enter me slowly, and I close my eyes. Oh yeah! His hands encircle my round waist.

  “God . . . how I like having you like this,” he says.

  I open my eyes and look at him. His face is before me. I grab him by the neck and pull him up to suck one of my nipples. I’m ultrasensitive, but I love it.

  “Oh yes . . . don’t stop.”

  He doesn’t. I’m pleased, and I move my hips in search of my pleasure. Yes . . . oh yes . . . I don’t want him to stop.

  Suddenly, I squeeze my hips against him, and I wince. Eric stops.

  “It hurt, right?”

  I don’t want to lie, and I nod. His face breaks a little, and I kiss him. “Let’s go.”

  “Sweet . . .”

  “I need you,” I whisper.

  He pauses to consider the situation.

  “Careful, OK?”

  I nod. We move.

  Being on top gives me more depth, and, when Eric can’t take it anymore, he gets up with me still in his arms, puts me down on the bed, and, holding back our wilder impulses, we reach climax together.

  That night, when we turn off the light and hug, he kisses me on the lips.

  “I’m never going to leave you, crazy girl,” he says. “I don’t know how to live without you.”

  28

  The days pass, and I’m still demanding sex. Eric only gives it to me in small doses.

  I try to understand him, but my hormones don’t make it easy for me.

  Sometimes, to avoid the discussion, Eric works late in his office. I know that’s why he does it, even if he denies it. He knows that when he makes it back to our room, I’ll be sleeping like a log and won’t wake up.

  I start my prenatal classes. They’re two hours each, two days a week. Eric goes with me. He doesn’t skip a single one. Surrounded by other couples, we do everything the teacher tells us, on a mat and then on a huge ball. We have fun and learn to breathe for when the time comes. I crack up. Seeing Eric huffing and puffing like this is the best!

  During these same days, I start to feel a slight pulling inside me. I consult with the gynecologist, and she tells me they’re small contractions, but that I don’t have anything to worry about. It’s normal.

  I worry anyway . . .

  I get restless . . .

  I’m scared to death . . .

  Every time I feel one, even if it doesn’t hurt, I totally freeze, and Eric blanches when he sees me. I don’t know who’s more scared, him or me.

  Some afternoons I go pick up Flyn at school. I see my new friend María and have fun talking to her about Spain and our lives here in Germany.

  The cockatoos haven’t talked about me again, and I have that on good authority. One of them turned out to be María’s friend, and she told me that, after what happened, the school sent a memo to each of them in which Laila denied what she’d said. It also had a clear warning that any new defamatory comment could be the basis for a lawsuit.

  Surprised, I speak with Björn, and he confesses it was him who’d sent the letter.

  And, hey, it worked. They may continue talking among themselves, but the rumors have died.

  One afternoon, Eric surprises me when he comes home from work. After kissing me, he asks me to pretty up and invites me to dinner.

  I look in the mirror, and I don’t like what I see.

  I’m not sexy. I’m as big as a tank. My ankles are swollen, and my belly’s a huge ball. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t hide it so I wear a trendy little maternity dress and my high boots, and when Eric and Flyn see me come down the stairs, they both exclaim, “Beautiful!”

  I smile and figure they’re just saying that to make me feel good. What dears!

  The night has promise, and in the car, I sing along to a song on the radio called “Ja” from a German group I really like named Silbermond.

  “I like to hear you sing in German.”

  I rest my head back.

  “It’s a very nice song.”

  “And romantic,” he says.

  When we arrive at the beautiful restaurant, Eric gets out of the car, comes around, and takes my hand to go in. The valet quickly takes our vehicle. The maître d’ greets us and guides us to a nice table.

  Dinner is wonderful, and with the appetite I now have, I eat everything on my plate, and, if Eric isn’t careful, everything on his. We talk, we laugh, and we’re the same as always when suddenly he asks me, “Why didn’t you tell me about Máximo and my mother?”

  I stare at him. Now we’re in it!

  How did he find out about that?

  “What do you mean?”

  Eric tilts his head.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out my mother went to a party with your little friend from Guantanamera?”

  I laugh. He doesn’t.

  Just thinking about that great moment when Sonia asked us to find her a dark-skinned escort makes me laugh.

  But damn it. And we were getting along so well.

  My face must be giving me away. I drink some water.

  “Look, Eric, your mother’s a young, single woman who just wants to have fun.”

  “But does it have to be with Máximo?”

  I get it. Máximo and my mother-in-law is a crazy combo. I decide to be honest.

  “Honey, I confess! I knew about it. But before you get all bent out of shape and the Iceman returns, let me tell you it was your mother who called us, your sister and me. She wanted a date for the party who’d leave Trevor in the dust, and all we did was look for someone to go with her. Of course, Máximo wa
s a gentleman. He didn’t cross any lines; you can be sure of that. He escorted her to the party and then took her home. End of story.”

  Suddenly, he laughs. That unsettles me. Then he takes my hand and kisses it.

  “The three of you are going to be the end of me.”

  I’m glad to see he’s beginning to understand his mother’s philosophy of life.

  Unexpectedly, Medusa moves. I quickly put his hand on my belly. Eric notices the movement, and we kiss.

  When we finish dinner, he surprises me again by asking if I want to go for a drink. I accept even though I can’t have alcohol. I’m having too much fun to go home yet. And when we arrive at Sensations, the place with all the mirrors, I’m confused.

  “We’re only here for drinks, understood?”

  I nod; my libido’s on a break anyway. After so many threesomes and orgies, I only want Eric. Will there be hot sex for me when we get home tonight?

  On entering the first room, I see Björn at the bar. When he spots us, he gives me a loving hug and greets Eric.

  “What a delight to see you here. You look gorgeous today, my little chub.”

  Eric smiles, and I’m happy too.

  Björn introduces me to some friends of his I don’t know, but I notice Eric does know them. The two women are lovely and quickly inquire about my condition. One of them is a mom and smiles when she listens to me. For an hour or so, we all talk, and I’m aware of an occasional man looking at me, but Eric doesn’t let me go. That excites me.

  My mind is clouded, and I almost snort when I think about what Eric and Björn could make me feel in any of those reserved rooms. Suddenly, I see our friend greeting someone, and I’m stunned to see it’s the constipated poodle.

  When she comes over to me, Fosqui barks with her thin little voice.

  “You look amazing, Judith. More beautiful than ever,” she says, surprising me.

  I know she’s just saying that to look good in front of Björn, but I’ll take it!

  We talk for another hour or so, and the place fills up. I yawn without realizing it. Eric kisses me on the neck.

  “We’re going home, beautiful.”

  “We can stay a little more,” I say. We haven’t been out in a long time.

  “Jude, we’ve only come for a drink,” he says, seemingly reading my mind.

  I know, but does he have to remind me? Does he think I’m asking for something else? I must look particularly bewildered because we catch Björn’s attention.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Jude and I are leaving,” Eric says.

  I look to Björn for help, but he doesn’t offer any.

  “Yes, it’s better if you go now. It’s late for her.”

  How is it late for me?

  Who do these two think they are, my father?

  I want to protest, but I don’t. It won’t do any good anyway.

  Once we say goodbye to everyone, Eric and I leave the premises.

  “I want to drive,” I say when we get to the car.

  Eric looks at me.

  “You’re tired, sweetheart. Let me.”

  “I’m not.”

  My response is so intense that he gives in without a word. I’m behind the wheel, driving in silence. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, looking at me.

  “Sweetheart, we only went to have a drink.”

  I nod. I don’t say a word. I drive.

  Seeing my frown, Eric sighs. He knows me and knows my defenses are up. I watch him open the glove compartment, take out a CD, and put it on. Moments later, our song plays. “Black and White,” by Malú. He’s trying to placate me. But my hormones and my bad mood have come together, and I’m the worst of the worst.

  His hand reaches for my hair.

  “Better?”

  I don’t answer. The reminder that music tames the savage beasts makes me angrier.

  “You’re not going to answer me?”

  I drive in silence while Malú’s voice rings in the car. It’s for the best. I know if I say anything, it’ll be inappropriate, and I’ll mess everything up.

  Eric gives up. He rests his head back while the beautiful song continues. When it’s over and Ricardo Montaner begins to sing “Convénceme,” I hear Eric humming, and I don’t know what happens to me.

  I swerve to the right and stop the car.

  “Get out of the car.”

  Eric looks at me. I look at him.

  I turn up the song.

  Suddenly, my German grins when he thinks he understands what that means.

  I’m so bad!

  He undoes his seatbelt, opens the door, and gets out of the car. I reach over, close the car door, and take off like a rocket.

  Through the rearview mirror, I see Eric standing still. He wasn’t expecting that. But the same fury that made me take off now makes me stop once he starts vanishing from sight.

  What am I doing?

  Once again, I’ve let myself be carried away by my impulses, and what I’ve just done is wrong. Very wrong. I look for traffic both ways and make a U-turn. I feel a contraction and curse. There’s no question I brought this on myself. I’m going back for him. I see Eric walking down the sidewalk. He sees me and stops. His face is totally Iceman.

  He looks scary!

  I make another U-turn, and, when I’m at his side, his eyes pierce me. He walks to my door decisively and throws it open.

  “Get out of the car!”

  He’s furious. I don’t move.

  “Get. Out. Of. The. Car,” he says very slowly.

  I do what he says, but when I try to kiss him to ask for forgiveness, he does the cobra. Not unexpected. At a time like this, I would do the same.

  He’s very angry.

  It’s cold as fuck, and I suspect he’s going to pay me back by just driving away and leaving me here. I deserve it.

  I don’t move, just watch him get in the car, and, after huffing and slamming his hand on the steering wheel, he looks at me and hisses.

  “What are you waiting for? Get in the car.”

  As I walk to the passenger door, I hope he takes off. But he doesn’t. He waits until I get in the car, and, once I’ve put on my seatbelt, he turns off the car.

  “Can you tell me why you just did that?” he asks.

  “It’s the hormones.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Jude. I’m sick of your fucking hormones,” he says, seething.

  He’s right. I can’t blame everything on my hormones.

  “I was furious.”

  Eric nods. “And since you were furious, you can make me get out of the car in the middle of the night and just leave, right?”

  “I came back. I’m here, right?”

  My eyes fill with tears. I’ve screwed up, and it’s my doing, mine alone.

  Eric looks at me again and finally moderates his tone of voice.

  “Jude, I’m trying to have all the patience in the world with you. I understand your hormones are playing tricks on you. I understand you resent me for a thousand things every day, and that you’ll get mad at absurd things. I understand that’s all part of being pregnant. But now I want you to understand that my patience has begun to crack, and I’m afraid of losing my temper with you.”

  I don’t answer. He has more right to respond that way than a saint. His patience with me has been infinite. I feel terrible.

  “In your state, I don’t want anyone to touch you,” he says. “I want to take care of you. I need it! I enjoy sharing you other times, but not now. Now I only want you for me and—”

  “Have you thought about what I want?”

  The Iceman looks at me and cuts me with his eyes, and, understanding his frustration, I try to clarify.

  “I don’t need you to share me with anyone,” I say. “I don’t want to be with others. I just want you to make love to me like we like. Our way. I need you. I’ve been telling you for months and months, and you don’t want to listen to me.”

  Eric curses and slams the steering wh
eel again.

  “I’ve told you a thousand times I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t you hear me? Do you think I don’t want to fuck you the way you want? That I don’t want to have you in my arms and make love, balls to the wall like we like? Goddamn it, Jude! I want it with all my might, and I can’t wait until we do it like that again.”

  “But—”

  “I love you; you love me. Your pregnancy and our baby are what’s important right now. That’s all.”

  I love Medusa more every day, but I need him too.

  Eric starts the car and drives silently to our house, while I feel that I need, as Alejandro Sanz says, “support for my heart.”

  The days pass, and our evening out did nothing but worsen our communications. The situation is so bad that, when Eric comes home, even Susto and Calamar get out of the way.

  And sex between us is weird. I compare it to eating salt-free chips. You enjoy them because you like them, but you know they could be better with a little more spice.

  Like every night, I wake up with an immediate urge to pee. I’m constantly peeing! I look at the clock: 2:12 a.m., and I’m surprised to see Eric’s not in bed.

  I go to the bathroom and then stealthily go looking for him and find him in his office. He’s jerking off to the video he recorded with Frida that day at the hotel. I crawl back to bed and cry when I realize I’m not included in his game. Damned hormones!

  I love my Medusa, but I don’t want to get pregnant ever again!

  When he comes back to our room, I pretend I’m asleep. Eric gets into bed, and, when he hugs me from behind and I feel his huge erection, I relax. Hmm, how delicious! But I contain myself. I’m not going to ask for anything. I’m tired of this.

  Surprised, I notice he’s kissing me on the shoulder, the neck, and around my head.

  “I know you’re not asleep, you cheater. I heard you going up the stairs.”

  My answer is to say nothing. But when I feel him taking off my panties, I let go. Hardly moving, I notice his hands on my sex. Oh yes . . . play with me. When he gets me all wet, he brings his cock close and slides it inside.

  I moan.

  “After you have the baby, I’m going to lock you up for a month, and I’m not going to stop fucking you against the wall, on the floor, on the table, everywhere.”

  His words excite me, my spine arches, and I feel his penis go deeper.