Читать книгу One Week Gig - Rufus Jr. Curry Jr. - Страница 4

Things are looking better now, as the days rolled on by. The Chapman Sweet Band has been picking up steam by the minute. We are booked as the regular featured act at Bayside in downtown Miami. Three nights a week we gig there. I have been meeting some interesting people almost every night. People liked Fe’Fe’, the exotic dancer. She works over at a black strip club called the Watch Shop. She isn’t your run-of-the-mill stand up, bump and grind, and take off your clothes kind of dancer. I am told this lady’s act includes bottles, light bulbs, and a five-foot boa constrictor named “Right There”. She even featured an ass that claps louder than a crowd of people. Besides the props, I asked myself, “Why in the hell would anyone name a snake something like ‘Right There’?”

Fe’Fe’ came to our show week-after-week. She was one of our biggest local fans and the president of the exotic dancing chapter of The Chapman Sweet Band Fan Club. She always hung around to talk to us between our sets. In her world, she is a real live superstar. She even invited us down to see her act on more than one occasion and we would always have a good excuse not to check her out. You know all of the men in the band wanted to go see her do her thing, but it was hard to tell Randi she was not welcome to come with us. One night, Fe’Fe’ extended the invite directly to Randi and assured her the environment would be completely safe for her. She appealed to her, woman-to-woman and finally, Randi felt comfortable enough to venture to the wild side. So we checked out Fe’Fe’s show.

Randi became more reluctant the closer we got to the club, but we dragged her in anyway. Thumper was thinking this would be his big chance to get at Randi. Naked women dancing all over the place and hopefully a drunk Randy and a tipsy Randi. Finally he would be able to make his move. However, Randi and Randy were unusually close, even for twins. They were tight to the point where Thumper might be required to kiss Randy in order for him to get a clean shot at Randi, let alone attempt to get her out of that black patent leather catsuit. I’m not implying that Randy is gay. I am just saying that Randi and Randy are just that tight. Besides, neither of them knew that Fe’Fe’ had the hots for Randi.

When Fe’ took the stage, you could hear a rat piss on cotton in a distant corner. The only thing I saw were lights, her body, open mouths and money flying at the stage like bullets out from a machine gun. Coming down off of the stage, she made her way directly to our table and danced around for the remainder of Roger Troutman and Zapp’s, “Computer Love”. You could tell that she had danced to this song a time or two. Timing the song perfectly, she ended up right in front of Randi. Her mannerisms were completely feminine with a very narrow streak of masculinity right down the middle. Randy thought she was dancing for him. He grabbed her around her waist and tried to pull her body close to his. She showed him the hand and softly pushed him away. Fe’ then turned to Randi and gave her, her best private dance. Randi was truly puzzled as she looked back and forth between Fe’ and me. But the crowd of men began to go wild. They urged Fe’ to kiss Randi. Fe’ appeared game as panic overtook Randi.

"Be cool. She likes you. Let her do her thing and we’ll leave.” I whispered in Randi’s ear with my lips drawn tight.

Randi’s facial contortions signaled that she is very uncomfortable. “If she tries to kiss me, I’m going to monkey stomp her ass. Right here and right now.” If anybody could monkey stomp some ass, it would sho nuff be Randi, from Butt Naked, GA.

Fe’ worked her thang so hard, I broke out in a James Brown cold sweat. Randi was sporting a Botox induced expression on her face. As Fe’ worked her way up to center stage, she took a dramatic stance before she reached into a black glitter covered box. She pulled out a snake that was black, green and shades of brown ranging from dark chocolate to tan. It’s head appeared to be the size of the fist of a very large baby and at the thickest part of it’s body, it looked to be larger in circumference than the calf muscle of my leg. The snake looked to be every bit of 7 feet long. She softly rapped the snake around her right leg and moved to the music. The snake slithered up her leg like a phone man climbing up a telephone pole. She worked the crowd to a fever pitch, before reaching over and grabbing the brass pole to support her weight. Then─she raised her left leg as the snake slithered up towards her goodness as if her goodness was where he was supposed to be. From where I sat, his head was face to face with the master that all men love to serve. We couldn’t tell what was going on until she began moan, “Right there! Right there!” as the snake flicked his tongue at a rate that I am comfortable with saying, was faster than any man or woman she may have ever known. I thought the Donkey show I saw down in Tijuana was wild, but this show was crazier because I knew the person in the act. Fe’Fe’ took wild to another level. The men in the club went nuts, throwing tens, twenties, and hundreds. I could have sworn I saw some checks and credit cards too.

The intensity was so high, she required two of her fellow dancers to come on the stage and help her remove “Right There” from─right there. The snake seemed to have a smile on his face and the men in the club emitted a strong air of envy. I guess the old saying is true, “Men spend nine months trying to get out of the womb and the rest of their lives trying to get back into it.” Randi was awestruck and so was her brother.

“If that’s what it takes to get a man, I might be in trouble.” Randi sucking her teeth and crossing her arms hard.

We went backstage to let Fe’Fe’ know we enjoyed her show and thanked her for the invite before we slithered away. With astonishment still on our faces, we walked to the parking lot. Nobody wanted to talk about what they had seen, as if we’d seen a UFO. Even the self-proclaimed “Super Freak”, Thumper, was speechless.

I hopped into my hoopty and started making my way to the house. Thoughts danced through my head as my car rolled down the highway. Thinking about what I witnessed just fifteen minutes ago, still had me kind of messed up in the head. Fe’Fe’ pushed the envelope when it came to showmanship. To tell the truth, she made me rethink my entire repertoire. Maybe I needed to show more skin on stage. Yeah…right?

Thinking about what I had just seen ultimately led my thoughts back to Terri. I don’t want to go there right now. The emotions that come with the line of thought built around Terri are mostly negative right now. I do all I can to shift the focus of my mind and the best thing I can do is reach for the old faithful diversion.

I began to daydream about being prepped for a major TV interview. Sometimes when I have free time or I am stressed out, I imagine that I am being interviewed by a noted journalist. In my mind, I am sitting with Oprah, Barbara Walters, Robin Roberts, Dianne Sawyer or yuckin’ it up on the Tom Joyner Morning Show.

Some times I would give an impromptu motivational message while sitting with Tavis Smiley, Steve Harvey or on a university campus somewhere in the world. This time I was on an XM Satellite Radio show with Gayle King on the Oprah and Friends channel. I was talking about relationships and what my views were as a black man and a musician who spends a great deal of time on the road. The question that had been put to me was, “What are your views on how to make a relationship between a man and a woman last?” Tilting my head back, I think for a moment. Then, sitting erect with a solid voice, I responded.

“You know, that’s a good question. I have often thought about that. In my travels, I’ve had the opportunity to talk to other men and women, of all flavors, black, white, Native American, and Latino and so on. Most of us in the West have similar issues when it comes to this topic. There are obvious cultural differences, but in order for the union between a man and a woman to survive, we have to maintain that bi-directional respect. Sometimes we start looking around and decide that we want to make our mate over. I think that’s unfair. Don’t get me wrong. I have seen other women and found them attractive, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go home and convert my wife into that woman. I know a lot of men have a hard time with their mates because in the beginning of the relationship, the women project the image that there is nothing wrong with their man and they love everything about their man, or so they lead you to believe. They like his conversation, looks, style of dress and his swagger. Then, when they get married, they begin an intense man renovation project. The man’s look, habits, career, friends, and his interest all of a sudden become all wrong.”

The phones in the studio begin to ring off the hook. Before Gayle can ask me the next question, I find myself at the entrance of my street. Turning onto the street, I think, “This isn’t how it should be.” Driving slowly towards the house, I see neighbors, some couples and I wonder if they are fighting or have they fought the same battles I am fighting right now. The entrance to the driveway felt like the long road you have to drive down when you go to visit a prison. As I approach the garage, I press the button on the garage door opener and like a kid, I pretend that I am the captain of a spaceship. A spaceship would be a nice place to be right now. Maybe Terri would actually yearn for me or at least my life insurance policy. Maybe Terri would actually miss me and want me to rush home. Wishful thinking is exactly what these feelings are. Remaining in the car for a few more minutes, I decided I could take another question from one of Gayle’s callers.

“Mr. Chapman Sweet, why is it that all black men come across like dogs? I mean judging by your music you seem to know how to treat a sister.”, the caller spoke in an exaggerated southern drawl.

Looking over my shoulder, I smile at Gayle. But just before I answered the question, Terri opened the kitchen door and entered the garage.

“Sweet, you okay?” She leaned over to see if it was really me sitting in the car.

“Damn! I haven’t heard her call me like that in a long time,” I whispered to myself.

I loved looking at her even when she was at her worst. She had on some black stretch pants and one of my undershirts with no bra on. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail just the way I liked it, exposing her neck. Her rigid nipples altered the vertical linear pattern of the undershirt. To me, Terri is as sexy to me today as she was when I first saw her. I leaned out of the open car door.

“It’s me babe. I was just doing some thinking. What are you doing?”

“Nothing. You scared me.”

I got out, stood up, and stretched like one of those lazy hound dogs whose job is to sleep. After closing the car door, I walked toward her. She stood motionless in the doorway until I got a few steps from her, then she quickly retreated into the house.

Entering the house I had the best vantage point to watch those slightly bowed legs of hers walk down the hall, accompanied by that gentle jiggle of her buttocks. I hastened to catch up to her before she got to the bedroom. I grabbed her by her wrist and whirled her around. Catching her by the waist, I pulled her close to me and planted a kiss on her lips. She rubbed her eye like a sleepy little kid who was trying to stay awake long enough to see if Santa Claus was really real. She shocked me. Totally out of character, based on her recent behavior, Terri allowed me to kiss her without putting up her usual dramatic protest. I stooped down to pick her up and she let me. The woman I married must have popped in for a visit. “Could I get that woman to stay for the night?” With her safely and softly in my arms, I carried her to the room as if she were Sleeping Beauty.

Laying her across the bed in the pitch-black of night, I contemplated whether I should make the move I so desperately wanted to make. I know what Thumper said about the Dawg in me being on a short leash in Terri’s hand, but I find it very difficult to abstain from this fine specimen of woman splayed out in front of my eyes. Sliding my feet out of my shoes, I sat on my side of the bed, removed my shirt and then my pants. Knowing what I felt for my wife was bigger than this moment, the sweat on my forehead, and the obvious bulge in my underwear were a prominent reminder of this fact. But, like my relationship advisor, Essence magazine told me in the beginning of my marriage, “Don’t rush her!” So I didn’t. I hear the deep whisper of her inhaling and exhaling as she rapidly falls deeper, back into the sleep she was stirred from before she opened the door to the garage. I admire her form as she slept and I decided to allow my urge to fade into the back of my mind. I arrived at the conclusion, that to lay down on the bed as near to her as possible, without waking her up, was what would have to satisfy me tonight.

Resting on my pillow with my hands behind my head, the motion of the mattress caused her to instinctively roll toward me and snuggle up against my body. Her head rested on my arm and her leg over my leg as I relaxed flat on my back. The fatigue of the day’s activity and the stress of worrying about what I would encounter when I got home, or what drama awaited me, escaped my mind, and sleep claimed me too. As I slumbered, peace of mind and the onset of REM sleep enveloped me, I felt the distinct sensation of something warm, slightly firm and moist on my chest. It was a dream, and I was not about to make a hasty exit from a pleasant place that felt so good and real. Being aroused to a hazy state of semi consciousness, I felt the movement of Terri’s warm body pressed firmly against mine. I was not asleep, and I realized that Terri is awake and fully engaged. Pleased to discover it wasn’t a dream, I continued to lie back, and relaxed for fear of scaring the rare moment away. Like finding a rare bird or butterfly, I instinctively knew that the slightest movement would chase the rare find away. I remained motionless and enjoyed the attention as she stroked my chest hairs, even pulling some of them to the point of giving me the subtle sensation of pain. Yes, slightly painful, but not enough for me to ask her to stop. So taken by her spontaneous display of affection, I am more than willing to overlook a little pain. Her hand transitioned from my chest to my stomach and on to the small crop of hair peeking above the waistband on my underwear. Gorged with anticipation, my joystick was so ready that it lifted my underwear off my stomach like a pole at the center of a tent. Running her fingers across my stomach just above my pubic hair stimulated the nerves under my skin. My abdominal muscles quivered out of control. “Right There!”, I thought to myself. Just like Fe’Fe’ would have said it. My level of excitement rose to the point of near convulsion. Her grip on my desire encroached on my sense of neutrality. Not so much the act, but the fact that she moved on me on her own was a massive stroke to my already unrelenting attraction to Terri.

My mind and body is being sucked into a vortex that has transported me to a place light years away from where I was. Less than an hour ago I was driving home with my head stuffed with the dread of what I feared I would meet in my house. Me, not wanting to face the foul music being played by the discord in my relationship. But, this very pleasant part of the rollercoaster ride called my marriage, in this very moment, felt nice. Like the rise of a rollercoaster car as it rolls toward the highest point on the tracks along the short path it is predestined to travel. Nice. Oh, how nice it feels.

The type of attention being bestowed upon me now would inspire any halfway decent man to be a better man and a better listener. The afterglow sleep I experienced was like none before. The morning seemed to come in a flash. I didn’t mind because Terri was still there in my arms. Leaning over, I kissed her on her forehead.

“Babe,” I called out to her in as soft of a voice as I could. Her eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the morning light fighting it’s way through the vertical blinds. She rolled to her right and propped up on her elbows like a little chipmunk poking out of it’s hole. She began rubbing her face and yawning.

“What time is it?”

“Six o’clock. You have to be somewhere early?”

“Yeah, I have to go to that county assistant principal’s meeting. Speaking of administrator, you know the word on the street is that the county is looking for a new countywide music administrator.” With that, she flopped down, flat on her back.

“No, I didn’t.”

“It sounds like something you may be interested in.”

“I don’t know. Management is a different monster all together.”

Spreading her elbows out to her sides and resting her head in the palm of her hands, she was quietly removing her clothes. Then clearing her throat and rubbing her nose, she grunted as she rolled onto her stomach.

“Well, Kenya said she would get a packet from the crystal palace. I’ll get it from her so you can look it over and see what the pros and cons of the job are.”

Pushing her naked body up onto her knees, she stood up and put her slippers on before she came over to my side of the bed. She held my face in the palms of her hands and kissed me full on the lips.

“I got first dibs on the shower,” she said.

“You win!” I replied.

Stopping to stretch in front of the mirror, she rubbed the skin on her stomach and thighs before she continued to the restroom. Setting the water to her desired temperature for her shower, she entered the warm water’s embrace. I decided to wash my hands and work some quick magic in the kitchen. Some grits, eggs, bacon and toast. I knew she’d like that because a hot meal and some good lovin’ go together like hot cocoa and buttered toast.

As I inventoried the ‘fridge and the pantry, I wondered where this county music administrator business came from? I knew about the position two months ago. I told Terri time-and-time again, that my days in the school system were numbered and the number was very low. Management was definitely not my cup of tea, but I kept my mouth shut to keep the peace. It was so rare to have a night like we just had, I considered it might still be a dream, in reality it never happened. Terri knew my dream; to be on the road and recording. She had to know, because she has been hearing it since the first time we had a conversation. I was crystal clear about what I wanted to do, and then came love. The idea of me on stage used to get her all worked up, but now it just seemed to be a lightning rod for drama.

“What? A brother can’t have his dreams?” My dreams are my gift to the world. She lives her dream every day and I have supported her from day one. Her quest is to become a power broker in the field of education.

As the years slipped by, changes occurred to each of us. I often put a question to the “Sexy Eight”, as I call them. The group consists of Terri, Kenya, Dorothy, Gloria, Valarie, Bonita, Tia and Janet. Sometimes my mom and my mother-in-law would join in and make it the “Twisted Ten”. Every now and then, they women come over to the house for a book club meeting and a very small cookout. Somehow, most of the time, the meeting degenerates into a full out, tipsy, man-bashing session. I always strategically butt in at the end of their meetings and ask them thought provoking questions to try to get them to rethink their current twisted philosophical position and instigate some good arguments. The last question I hit them with was a killer.

“Pretend you are in the market for a good man, and you frequent a public park to exercise a couple of times a week. One day you noticed this good-looking man and eventually he approaches you. His conversation is engaging and insightful. He is well-groomed, smells good, and makes you laugh like crazy. His teeth are clean, and he has a career with a county division, and he gives you the utmost respect. You began to date and you are falling for him. Your girls know something is up, but you keep the relationship under wraps, because you wanted to be sure that it is the real thing. One Friday, you and your girls decide to play hooky from work and do the day spa followed by lunch. In the middle of your lunch at the cute little sidewalk cafe’, a garbage truck rolls by and you see your heartthrob hanging off the back of the truck, waving at you. Would you joyfully acknowledge him and point him out to your girls or would you pretend not to see him?”

Six of them mumbled to themselves for a moment, especially Terri. I could always count on the real sister to step to the front. That’s right, my girl...Kenya Dixon.

“Yes, I would stand tall and holler right back at him,” stated Kenya with absolute conviction and no hesitation.

“Why he gotta be a garbage man? Why can’t he be an X-ray technician? Why can’t he be a school teacher?”, are the recommended changes to make my question more comfortable.

“Why a brother got to be any of that?” I thought doing my best to keep my mouth shut. “A good man is not what they want.”

Hell, the smartest man and woman I know never completed high school. My grandma Lucille (Big Mama) was as sweet as they come and knew good from a thousand miles away. Sometimes I would throw in a bald headed, short, fat, ugly brother into the equation. Now don’t get me wrong. I am in no way, shape or form trying to place all of the blame and poor judgment on women. There are a lot of brothers out there doing the same thing. But somehow, the final decision never rested on what was real about the person who was standing in front of them vying for their companionship.

I respect Terri’s dream of becoming a Marva Collins-type teacher, but ever since we got deeper into our marriage, she began to try to dress me differently and pick my friends, tell me who could come over to the house, and make me take the career path that she prescribes for me. I’m down for making money, but teaching is a stepping-stone for me. I love the kids, but I know that my mission from God is to affect the world positively with my music. I see a lot of brothers and sisters just doing whatever it takes to get by. I believe that life is about more than just getting by. So, whether Terri wants me to be a big star or not, I’m going to follow my dreams, no matter what.

The water in the shower stopped. The food I prepared is on the tray I’m carrying like a seasoned waiter. I’ll have it in place on the bed before she dries off and returns to the room. I put the tray on the bed, and take off my clothes so I can get into the shower before the dreaded conversation starts up again. Opening the door to the bathroom, the fog from the shower is thick enough to be in the opening of a Hollywood horror movie. Terri, has one foot on the toilet seat, and is bent over drying her foot. Walking up behind her, I touch the crack of her butt with the head of my erect love muscle. Startled, she stood at attention like a soldier.

“Boy, you scared me!”

“Who else is in the house but you and me?”

Her face looked like she was about to transition from happy to mad. It didn’t take much to change her mood. I stood in front of her with a wide stance, as if I were getting ready to fight.

“Oh, you act like you want to do something. Ain’t nothing between us but air and opportunity.” She tried to hold back that grin that was sneaking across her face.

In my most lusty voice. “Go ahead, I dare you to make me late for work! I don’t think you have what it takes!” She laughed and tried to step by me.

“I made you something,” I said as I held her for a few seconds to kiss her on the lips.

She only offered me her cheek before she left to go into the room. I hated it when she offered me her cheek. What the hell is that about? I remember when I used to kiss her full on the mouth, in the broad open daylight standing at the city bus stop. I should have known something was up when she pulled back during the kiss at the end of our wedding ceremony. I’ve been tracking all of the subtle signs of change over the years. I saw the storm coming, but I didn’t know how to get out of the way.

Stepping into the shower, I narrowly avoided stepping on the wet bar of soap. I have asked Terri time after time to put the soap back into the dish after she uses it. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was trying to take me out by having me slip down and hit my head. I heard the door squeak as it opened.

“Thanks for the breakfast.”

“Anything for you baby.” I know it’s only a matter of moments before she starts in on me again about that job jazz. Under my breath, “5, 4, 3, 2,1”…

“So, what do you think about that job opening?”

“Did I just tell her I would do anything? Damn!” I keep my mouth shut for fear of saying the wrong thing. Hell, any man with half a brain knows that when his lady wants him to do something that he does not want to do, everything he says is all wrong, unless he is saying yes. A young married fool would misconstrue her last utterance as a question. This line of verbal exchange was almost as lethal as, “Does this dress make me look fat?” or, “Do I look fat to you?” What self-respecting man would even step willingly into that steaming pile of dog poop?

“Chapman!” she snaps. “Do you hear me talking to you?”

“Yeah baby, I had some soap in my eyes. What did you say?”

“I was asking you what you thought about the job down at the county office.”

“I’m not sure baby. Like I said, I need to look it over and see if it is something that I would be interested in doing.”

“Sweet, you got the qualifications and military experience. You will be making around seventy thousand dollars a year. That’s a long way away from what you make right now. We can move up and do some other things with the extra cash.”

An awkward silence settled into the bathroom like a turd that refused to be flushed.

“Are you ignoring me?” she asked sharply.

I shut the water off and pulled back the shower curtain. Terri was standing there as if she were ready to pounce on me like a lioness on the Serengeti plains. I looked at her, tilted my head to the side, smiled and shook my head at the intense amount of pressure she was suddenly placing on me.

“So that’s what it’s about? The money?”

She whirled around on a dime and walked out of the bathroom. I dried myself and wrapped my towel around me. When I entered our bedroom Terri was facing the mirror putting on her make up, and jewelry. I moved in very close to her to touch her playfully. She recoiled from me like an angry elementary school girl.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” I asked poignantly. She didn’t even open her mouth to respond.

“You really want me to take this job, don’t you?” Silence. “I will look at it and let you know what I think. I am not big on being caught behind a desk.”

She finished applying her makeup, grabbed her COACH bag and leather folio, picked up the food tray, and turned to walk out of the room.

“You going to leave without even saying ‘Bye Dog’? I guess it’s war again huh? So what? You want me to lie to you and then change my mind later?”

Terri still refused to talk about it. “It’s all about you. Terri’s got to be happy...nobody but Terri. Baby, no matter what you do or how you act, I am always going to respect you and back you and that is all I’m asking from you. I love you and…”

“What’s love got to do with it?” With one hand her on her hip and the other miraculously flailing about with the food tray in it, accenting the high points of her statement and never dropping a plate.

“If you don’t know, I can’t tell you. You have a good day.” My retort was sharp as I shook my head.

She continued into the kitchen, placed the food tray on the counter, and threw the paper plates and napkins into the trash. Me like a statue, stood watching her walk away from me and our conversation. Terri had been the poster child for intimacy less than an hour ago. In a flash, her attitude changed and now she’s a double for one of the lead Zombies in the remake of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video. The sudden change in her behavior was all due to the fact that I didn’t say yes. I am supposed to blindly agree to do something that’s not congruent with my gifts or my spirit. She sashayed out of the kitchen, into the garage and out of my life for the rest of the day. Feeling like a fool for even thinking that what happened earlier was real, I was reminded of “Manipulation 101”.

Her Way or The Highway

Here I am, driving down the street blasting the Tom Joyner Morning Show with the air conditioner on high with my windows open. “Chapman Sweet must be a fool. If he passes on this golden opportunity his ass is G-O-N-E, gone. Any real man would take the job whether he liked it or not. He has always been on this happiness kick. Fuck happiness. Forgive me Lord? Forgive me. Brothers are always cryin’ about how hard times are. How misunderstood they are. Ain’t that a bitch? I bet you if my name was Heather, or Becky, and I had long blonde hair, that Negro wouldn’t even think twice about taking that job. What’s a little discomfort for someone you love so much? What about all of those beatings sisters have taken, lonely nights, being stuck with fourteen head of children when he decides he doesn’t want to play mama and daddy anymore? Forgive me sweet Jesus, please forgive me. Then he skips across town to play pussy with his new whore for the month? Shit like this, pisses me off. He is definitely going to get the ice treatment from now on.”

I was wiping tears from my eyes, as my car glided down the street toward the guard gate to exit the neighborhood.

“Damn this! I do everything to make his game look good. I buy his clothes from Burch’s Haberdashery, cook his food and keep myself looking damn near like I did when we first met. Okay, I will admit I have cut way back on the sex, but, shit, I’m too tired to throw my legs up when I want sex, I know I am not going to jump and throw my legs up when he wants sex. I said, ‘Get a new car.’ Noooo, he is going to drive that piece of shit until it’s riding on the rims. I told him, ‘I am not going to get up out of my bed, late at night, to go pick his black ass up from the side of the road.’ Hell, we got the money. So, what’s wrong with overextending a little bit? Everybody in America lives above his or her means. Shit, that’s what they make credit for. We both work, and we both need to be making top dollars whenever we can. His crazy ass is still holding onto his dream of being a recording artist. That raggedy ass band, with all of those wannabe’s is never going to get larger than Dade, Broward and Palm Beach County. I mean, they all right, but I don't have the heart to tell him he isn’t ever going to be no damn Earth, Wind & Fire or Najee. Playing at Bayside three nights a week, a Superstar does not make. Negro needs to wake up now, before it's too late and the party is over.”

The Tom Joyner Morning Show is still playing on the radio when Melvin “The Hair Dresser” Perot comes on the air to attempt to heal the heart of some fool, who is stupid enough to call in and air all of her business to the world via a nationally syndicated radio show.

“Caller, are you going to let Melvin try to heal your heart this morning?”

“Yes Tom.”

“What’s wrong child?”, whines Melvin.

“Melvin, I am Takisha from Miami, Florida. I am what you would call a blue eyed soul sister.”

What Takisha said was so funny, Terri began to pay attention.

“Do you mean blue-eyed like Tina Marie, or blue eyed like you bought blue contacts at the flea market?” The cast members on the show were laughing so hard they couldn’t even attend to the caller’s question.

“I am blue-eyed, as in I have blonde hair. Some folks would call me a white girl. I am not prejudiced at all. My man happens to be a black man. He’s a professional football player.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less!”, snaps Sybil.

“...He makes great money and treats me very well.”

“You don’t have a problem. You have a dream.” Sybil chimes in.

“True, true...” Takisha agrees.

“And a lot of sisters are mad at you for being able to have that dream,” says J. Anthony Brown.

“Well he and the coach don’t get along very well. He said the coach is a racist, and threatened to trade him if he doesn’t close his mouth and stop talking about race based problems on the team. I don’t see any problems. I believe the coach is a nice man. He always smiles and winks at me. Besides, if my husband keeps talking, I’m afraid he might get traded to some place like Phoenix where he will get less money and be cursed to work in a very soft media market. I just can’t live on less than a five-thousand-dollar-a-month allowance.”

“Ooohh girl...Leave him, I’ll be his ‘Love Bunny’, screams Melvin.

“Please stop. I’m actually getting’ a strong visual,” mumbles J. Anthony Brown.

Terri is so angry at what she is hearing; she turns the radio off and snatches the knob off the stereo console. “That bimbo sounds like she has the IQ of a damn field mouse, and that brother is kissing her feet every chance he gets. He’s probably complaining about some real issues and that skank is only thinking about her monthly allowance?! And Chapman thinks I’m trivial when it comes to real issues. I’m only trying to help him get more money. I’m not just thinking about myself, I’m thinking about us. When and if we ever have kids, I want them to be set. I don’t want to have to rush back to work after I give birth. I want to be able to nurture my babies. I thought brothers kissed those dumb girls feet, but I had no idea how deep this issue ran in our community.”

Wiping the tears from my eyes as I got closer to the school took care of my external appearance. Shaking my head and going over in my mind how selfish the man I married had become, I could not believe he would think about turning down a $70,000 a year job. I had taken advantage of every opportunity in my path for advancement.

“I am an assistant principal, not just for me...I did it because it would help us. He is still caught up on this damn music thing. It’s a dream, a long shot dream. He can’t even control his own destiny. I believed in him at one time, I think, but I don’t know anymore. He promised me so many things. I shouldn’t even be working right now. But, I am. So, if I must work and he has not shown me that he is serious about making it, I’m going to shoot for the top and take care of my damn self. Mary McLeod-Bethune and Marva Collins better move over because here I come.”

Turning into the faculty parking lot, I whipped into my assigned parking space. The sight of Kenya walking out of the building with a walkie talkie in her hand reminded me of an old Cleopatra Jones movie. Trying to gather myself I checked my face in the mirror, while chanting an affirmation. “I am worthy of what I want.”

“I am worthy of everything I want! I’ll get it myself. I don’t need a man for nothing. Chapman just doesn’t know; many men would stand on their heads just to have me hanging on their arm or in their life. Divorcing his ass is about the nicest thing I can think of doing to him and for him right now.” I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, hoping it would dry my tears and change me into what I wanted to be in an instant. I opened the door and stepped out of the car with a look of false togetherness and determination on my face.

Kenya recognized me from across the parking lot. She looked both ways before she crossed the driveway and walked towards me.

“What’s up Soror?” was Kenya’s typical greeting.

“You girl. It’s all about you.”

“Girl you look like you just walked off the runway at an Ebony Fashion Fair Fashion Show. I know you are being considered for one of the principal vacancies and all, but you making it hard for a sister to compete with you.”

“Stop the madness. Those are all lies and fairytales. Don’t jinx me Kenya. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“What are you doing after school today anyway?”

“Why?”

“Can a sister get her long time friend to help her pick up some clothes? I want to have that look too.”

“And what look might that be?” Asked Terri, expecting a halfway meaningful answer. With her hand on her hip and her purse strap over her shoulder, Terri spoke firmly but friendly. “The look that every woman should want to know better.”

“Whatever! Girl, you know there’s a meeting after school for all the candidates for principal jobs.”

“Well, you can park your car at my house and I will drive you where you need to go.”

Continuing into the building, I touched hands with Kenya before we walked in two different directions to our individual offices. Stopping in her tracks, I saw Kenya watching me the entire time it took me to enter my office.

I know that I am a fly on the wall of Terri and Chapman’s life. But, right now, their love is my best chance to experience real love. My mind was racing to decipher what is up with my girl as she walked into her office. As I sat down behind my desk, Terri weighed heavily on my mind. I pressed the power button on my computer and the little green light flickered on. While the computer seemed to be straining to boot up, I reared back in my chair and noticed the intra-school system mail envelope filled with the information that Terri asked me to get for Chapman. Tapping out a tune on the envelope with my fingers, I could not stop thinking about how Terri was there for me when my grandmother died, and when I broke up with my fiancé who we found out was a drug dealer just months before my wedding was scheduled to happen. I didn’t want to react too strongly because I loved Terri and Chapman. “What could it be?” I loved Chapman because he was the big brother I always wanted. He always gave me good, clean advice and was the only husband of any of my so-called-girlfriends who didn’t try to hit on me when I was alone with him. Chapman has called me Ken from the time I told him my name. He almost got shot trying to stop Cuthbert “Snake Eyes” Hamilton, my almost husband from beating me up. I wanted to help my friends, but I didn’t want to choose a side.

“They are the ideal couple. God, I pray that Chapman isn’t trippin’ on her with some freak.”

Terri is the type of woman who is driven. She is definitely going to make a name for herself in the field of education. She is living her dream, and her star is rising fast. We still get into disagreements about her not having any children by now. I mean what else does she want? She has a husband who comes home every night, he doesn’t have an alcohol or drug problem, and still writes songs about her and sings her ass to sleep at night. I tell her he is a good man, but she just closes her mind when I start on my support the black man campaign. She always tells me, ‘Girl, you are like a fat personal trainer talking about a six pack. Always giving advice on something you have absolutely no intimate knowledge about. A husband, marriage, children and everything else that goes along with this…with this ring I thee wed stuff’.”

I have always admired the strength that Terri displayed when she hooked up with Chapman Sweet, a known PLAYAH, in our junior year in college. It took so much confidence to cut through the bullshit, and to stay focused on the relationship that at that time was obviously developing. I mean, girls used to say slick shit about Chapman in passing, but never ever directly to Terri’s face. ‘Cause, you know if they did, we would have had to round them up and beat that ass. Sweet Man, as some of the girls used to call him, was smitten from the word go. I was her cheerleader and undercover lookout throughout school. I dated brothers who seemed to be much less popular than Chapman, and for some strange reason, they all gave me nothing but trouble. Chapman knew I was watching him, but he was such a gentleman, he never let on that he knew. Well, he did confess that he knew what I was up to, the night he and Terri got married. I guess it boils down to the individual man. Terri was always suspicious of him. The guy I dated had nothing going on around him, but he was a product of his home environment. Unfocused. Sweet and I used to have some deep talks about relationships and life in general. I do admit to God, in my private times, that I did have somewhat of a crush on him, and I used to get mad at Terri for giving Chapman such a hard time. Now don’t get me wrong. Chapman wasn’t 100% angel by no stretch of the imagination. She used to catch him as he used to put it, “Working his public.” He was too damn friendly for the fragile self esteem of the average college girl. There are women who went to school with us who will swear that they had a thing going with Chapman while we were in school. Now Terri and I talked about this sensitive subject at great length. Some of the girls could have been telling the truth, and the others were just women she hated and did not want to believe the man of her future would ever lie with. To tell you the truth, the word I got was that he used to kill the ladies before he hooked up with Terri and probably even after he hooked up with Terri. They used to line up around the band’s practice field just to get a look at the good looking young men with the well developed legs in their cut-off jeans and army boots. The guys in the band were cool, but it was a crap shoot. Good looking, smooth talking, personality, talented, fine and so full of shit that when they opened their mouths, most of them had a brown streak on the back of their tongues.

Chapman was so appealing to the point where some women would have gladly taken the shit that Terri imagined was going on just to be able to say that they got to stand in his sunshine. He tried to tell her he was in love with her and only her. But, that was like trying to tell an anorexic that she’s not fat. What you say, to a black women who has been hurt before or has seen her mother, grandmothers, sisters or friends dragged through the mill, has nothing to do with reality. Many sisters don’t believe anything a brother tells them. He would tell Terri that he saw the women that were in his face as future buyers of music and a good PR program never hurt anybody who was serious about becoming a recording artist. He did have a point, but could you imagine a slightly insecure Terri, going for what the creative man she was falling with was trying to explain to her? She was, definitely not going for his explanation, and he truly felt this in his heart. “I’m just being nice to ‘em baby.”, he used to say, before he would lean over to kiss her on the forehead to reassure her of his level of commitment in front of everybody on “The Set”. I do admit that him kissing her in front of all of those girls used to blow me away.

When they had good times, they seemed to have had the relationship that was most likely to succeed among all of the young couples on campus at that time. But, when they were bad it seemed like the world would end for them and me. I was caught up in their lives like it was reality soap opera. I guess I knew even then that the possibility of me finding a good man was growing slimmer and slimmer as the time ticked on by. I was living vicariously through Terri and Chapman’s relationship. So, them breaking up was the last thing I wanted to happen. This was as close as I had ever been to true love, outside of my mother and father’s relationship.

My Mama and Daddy had love in a different way. My daddy used to keep him a woman in every port of call. He was a preacher, and a damn good one as far as showmanship went, I finally concluded. Reverend Richard “Big Dick” Dixon. Big Dick is what people used to call him behind his back, because he was known to put the ladies to sleep, and I do mean like anesthesia. Like the Temptation’s song, my “Papa was a Rolling Stone”. They said that daddy had a stone-cold sledge hammer in his slacks. I think the example he set in front of me is why I have not been able to find a dream man. He was tall and good looking and you could never stay angry with him for long. Not a minute. He is a major contributor to why I am by myself. I have been measuring all of the men I get close to with a subconscious ruler expecting them to be the man my father was. Liars, with personality to boot. I wanted a good man. A big Teddy Bear like my father, fun and funny; but a partner who would be loyal and true to me, and only me. I missed the love train once, but, I bet you I won’t let it happen again.

I often wonder why my mama stayed with my dad. A good woman is what she was, God rest her soul. My daddy was a good provider and a good father to me. One thing was for sure, when he came home from being on the road, he would give my mom much money and whatever strong lovin’ he had left. Apparently the lovin’ was so good, she would shout, quote scripture and even speak in tongues sometimes. My daddy would come home from the road and park that big caddy in the yard for the whole world to see. So, you know mama had to get a fresh hairdo at Miss Gerri’s beauty parlor for the occasion. That’s right, a wash and set, complete with those tight curls all over her head made by the curling iron that you had to heat up on the stove or in the special heater that looked like a small oven. Then she would come home and style that thing herself. She would put me down to bed and read me a story and I would be sound asleep when the games began. I would wake up in the middle of the night to go tee-tee and I would see mama in the bathroom with a hairdo that looked like Don King’s, and with a smile on a mile wide. I remember asking mom if I would ever find happiness with a man, and she just told me to pray and trust in the Lord. I have been doing that for quite sometime now. I guess I must be facing in the wrong direction or kneeling the wrong way when I pray, because I am still by myself.

Terri is not like my mom, because she refuses to share a man. I do understand her position. I wonder sometimes if Terri is just spoiled. Is she supposed to have it that good, and always complain? I tell her how good her man is and she always tells me that I can have him. She just doesn’t know. Had I not been so tied up in running track, I would have been Mrs. Kenya Sweet. But still, my heart says that no man is worth destroying a friendship.

Out of Control

“Girl you must have been out there on cloud nine. I have been tapping of your door for a minute. You have to stay on your toes while you are at work. As hard as it is for black women to get a job like this, you sure don’t need any negative strikes going into your files this late in the game. So don’t let them catch you with your guard down,” Terri preached.

“Oh, here is the information you asked me to get for Chapman.”

Terri reached for the information with somewhat of a smirk on her face. Silence dropped over the office like a curtain on a tacky Broadway play. Dropping her head, and then lifting it up again, Terri looked puzzled.

“Can I ask you something?” Discomfort, lightly etched on Terri’s face.

“What do you think?” Kenya pushed her bottom as far back into her chair as she could.

”Never mind...I’ll ask you later.”

Terri turned and headed out of Kenya’s office, down the hall back to her own. She tossed the information on top of her desk, knocking over a crystal elephant that Chapman had brought back for her from a Caribbean tour the band had done a few years back. Her first impulse was to let the elephant fall and shatter into a thousand pieces. But, in an instant of nostalgia, she changed her mind. She dove over the chair in a desperate attempt to save what was hers. She caught it just before it hit the floor. Regaining her balance, she placed the elegant elephant on the desk where it previously rested. Sitting down, she noticed that the elephant’s tusk had pierced her palm. A few drops of blood appeared on the surface of her skin and tears began to cascade down her face. Wiping her hand with a napkin from an old food takeout utensil packet revealed that the cut was truly superficial. She then covered her face with her hands.

“I got to get a grip. I must be in control. I can’t let them see me like this,” She whispered through the quiet sob of tears. She then sprang to her feet and made her way to her personal restroom to wash her face and straighten up before she left her office to face the world again.

Emerging from the restroom a new woman, Terri seemed to be in control of her emotions and she had her game face back. When she stepped into the hallway and made her way to her duty assignment, she did not miss a beat. She looked like the poster girl of what she thought a principal should be. It seemed as though the day had just blown by. Standing outside of the cafeteria, she was startled by the loud bell. A familiar voice came over the walkie-talkie as she manned her post.

“Mrs. Sweet, please come to the office. Mrs. Sweet, please come to the office.”

“I’m on my way.” She moved as fast as she could in her high heels.

Terri hustled over to the office to see who was there to meet her, no faces came to mind. All of her student and parent issues had been resolved and she was confident that her plate was clear. As she approached the office, she could see legs and deduced it was a parent to see her. Calming her stride, taking a deep breath and smoothing down the front of her clothes, Terri presented a calm and in control exterior.

“Hello. How can I assist you?” She asked as she rounded the corner into the office.

“Oh, hell! I thought you were a parent or somebody important.” She released a huge sigh.

“Disappointed? And for the record, I am somebody important.”

“Relieved is more like it.”

“I came to tell you that the meeting we were scheduled to attend this evening has been canceled.”

“So why are we still sitting here? Let me put this radio back on the charger and we can be gone.”

Terri unlocked her filing cabinet and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer. She and Kenya left the office. Freezing in her tracks, Terri’s mind worked to remember what she had forgotten. Without a word, she returned to her office and retrieved the packet that Kenya picked up for Chapman. Tucking the envelope under her arm she waltzed out of her office closing the door behind her. When they exited the school and stepped into the bright afternoon sunshine, Kenya quickly moved in the direction of her car and Terri to hers.

“Do you want to take my car or yours?”, asked Kenya.

“Mine.”

Exiting the parking lot, Kenya followed as Terri leads the way out onto the street. As she drove, Terri found herself fumbling for the radio controls. She quickly became frustrated and remembered that she violently changed the appearance of her stereo while she listened to the Tom Joyner Morning Show just a few short hours ago. Kenya drove up beside Terri at the first red light. Lowering her window, Terri waited for Kenya to look her way.

“We need to take your car. Mine is acting up.”

Kenya appeared to be a little tired of riding on Terri’s rollercoaster. The normal cycle of Terri’s self-pity was out of the cage and Kenya was not in the mood to ride or play. Kenya rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth as she gripped the steering wheel just before she forced a very sarcastic smile. She gestured with her hand for Terri to continue to lead the way to her house. Reaching the intersection of the street leading to her house, Terri hesitated at the stop sign a few seconds too long. Not sure what was going on, Kenya lightly tooted her horn and Terri began to drive forward. After parking, she gestured with her finger to let Kenya know that she would only be a moment. She rushed into the house and dropped the packet onto the music stand that Chapman had designated as his work space. She paused and mustered up a smile as she stroked the envelope for good luck.

Exiting the house, Terri appeared to have a fresh bounce in her step. She plopped down in the passenger seat, and closed the door. Kenya pushed her sunglasses down from her head onto her face, adjusted her already firm grip on the steering wheel, and literally stomped on the accelerator pedal. As she approached the stop sign, she firmly applied the brakes, bringing her car to a firm and abrupt stop. Terri looked at Kenya as if she was out of her mind. Finally, Terri was able to engage her seat belt and regain her composure. Kenya continued down the street with the music blaring as if nothing had happened. Silence road shotgun and loomed omnipresent in the car. Both women concentrated on looking straight ahead, wondering who would break this pane of silence first. Kenya drew the short straw.

“So what’s on your mind? Remember you had a question to ask me this morning.” Kenya reminded Terri as if the question had been burning a hole in her mind like sulfuric acid on a silk handkerchief.

“Come on girl ask me.”

“Kenya...If you had a family, or even as a single woman, and a job opportunity arose paying $40,000 more than you make right now. Would you take that job?”

“Hell yeah!”

“I thought so.”

“So you got a job offer? At a college? In another county? I mean you can tell me. I won’t be too jealous. I’ll be happy for you and all. I promise. I’m sure gonna hate it when you move away.”

“Aren’t we all working for the same thing? More money, right?” Kenya is silent. “Right Ken?”

“I guess so. In a way. But all of the things I want are not just motivated by money.”

“Like what?” Terri snapped.

“Well, I think I have a great body and all but I don’t believe I would strip naked in a room full of strange men for $2 million dollars.”

“Would you do anything in your field of interest for that amount of money?”

“Anything but be the principal of a middle school. Them damn kids are too young to be old, and too old to be young. They don’t know what the hell they want to be. So they all figure, until they decide, they’ll just get on my damn nerves. And they do that very well.”

“Not even for the big bucks? I don’t even believe that” chided Terri.

Terri pointed to the I-95 South sign. The song, “I need your love today”, by Sweet Thunder (Youngstown, Ohio band) played on the radio.

“Now girl, these were some good times. I saw this group with the Ohio Players, and Maze. Now you talking about a good afternoon. I thought I was so cool. I had on my tube top and the men were trying to get next to me.”

“I bet you were so excited,” cracked Kenya.

“Oh no, not me! You must have forgotten who my mother was. She had my head so tight until I believed that she actually had a GPS mechanism that could notify her if I was taking my panties off.”

“The GPS must have broken when you hooked up with Chapman. Or being that he was in ROTC, he knew how to jam the signal, if you know what I mean? The pun is intended.”

“Go straight to hell on the express train. That is the last thing I want to even think about,” snapped Terri.

Before Terri could complete her statement, Kenya was rolling down the off ramp to Northwest Sixty-Second Street in Miami. They passed the open air market where a few brothers were selling T-shirts. Preparing to turn left onto Seventh Avenue and head south, they were approached by a young man wearing a suit and a bow tie. He cautiously approached the passenger side window. Terri was startled by the sight of the Final Call newspaper in her face.

“Oh my God!” sighs Terri sighed as she concluded the young man posed no threat them.

“Ah my sister, how are you today? Can a brother interest you in some inside information to assist you in making sense out of the madness we live in day today?”

Kenya leaned forward across Terri’s lap and flashed a seductive smile at the man. “If a brother acts right, he might be able to get a wife.” Terri elbowed Kenya on her arm.

“Well, if you don’t want to purchase a newspaper, how about donating to our save the family unit fund raiser?”

Kenya was still leaning over Terri’s lap, until Terri nudged her on the arm and urged her to look at the green light. Taking a dollar from her ash tray, she deposited it in the donation bucket as she playfully batted her eyes at the handsome young man. They both smiled and waved goodbye. They were laughing wildly and pulling at each others hand as the car rolled south on N.W. 7^th Avenue. Kenya almost missed her turn. Finally negotiating the turn, she parked in the rear of the Afro –In Books & Things bookstore. They were laughing to the point where it took them a couple of minutes to catch their breath.

Composing themselves, they entered the store from the 7^th Avenue side, which allowed them to see the vast array of murals that were painted on the front wall of the building. The mural was composed of the faces of many men and women from the halls of black history’s Who’s Who. This bookstore was a haven for the Who’s Who of Black America. You could bump into Sistah Soldier, Mike Baisden, or Malcolm Jamal Warner, just to name a few. It was filled with books, art, videos, and pretty much anything dealing with the Pan-African experience. Terri and Kenya went straight to the fiction section. They were always captivated by the suggestive covers that plastered the front of the sexy love stories. They knew what they wanted; they just didn’t know what it looked like. Their search was based on scant information they had received about some new black romance novel by some up-and-coming writer. They wanted to get the jump on reading the book, before their book club could vote it onto the list. The gangly man, who had an air of wisdom beyond his years, approached the pair.

“Can I interest you all in our new collection of autobiographies? We have soon-to-be United States President, Senator Barack Hussein Obama’s book for you.”

“Do you have him in here?” Asked Kenya, with a soft smile.

The bookstore clerk was blushing, but you could not see it. “No ma’am we sure don’t.”

Terri put her two cents in with a sideways glance. “If you did, I was going to take all of the copies for me and my friend.”

“Yes ma’am, but we don’t have him in stock.”

“My brother I have enough trouble dealing with the real world day to day stuff. I just need this little piece of escapism.”, Terri stated as she flashed her disarming smile.

“I know that’s right.”, added Kenya.

They gave the man the little information they had. He knew exactly where to find the book. They smiled and thanked the clerk for assisting them so quickly. Eager to continue on to their next destination, they approached the counter to pay for the books. Behind the counter stood a man, woman, boy, and a girl who appeared to be posed for a portrait. Beautiful is what this family was. They looked like an African version of a Norman Rockwell painting. The man and the woman were the owners of the bookstore. Terri recognized them from an article she read in the Westside Gazette newspaper. Stephanie passed the baby to her husband “DC” and rang up their purchase. Stephanie’s smile was as wide and beautiful as the northern end of the Nile River. “DC” stood poised and looked like an ancient black sentinel, surveying the land that God had entrusted him to protect. Terri and Kenya were both caught up in the vision of what a family should look like, or the vision that they wanted their family to look like. Kenya saw exactly what she was looking for. She craved a brother who would be there because he truly wanted to share in the responsibilities, both economic and domestic, and truly wanted to be with her. She just wanted somebody to want her. Terri on the other hand, saw a woman who was happy because her man was willing to do whatever it took to make his family happy, even if it made him a little uncomfortable. She admired that quality in the brother that stood before her.

“Excuse me”, Stephanie whispered in a soft voice. “Are you ladies okay?”

Her whisper was enough to shake Terri and Kenya out of fantasy land. Kenya received her change and the owners urged them to come and visit again.

Within the blink of an eye, they were back on I-95 headed to Coconut Grove, to a hot dress shop, Kickin’ Fashions. It specialized in chic fashions for the businesswoman who was smart about her money. Some called it being cheap, they preferred frugal. It took no time because unlike most women, Kenya knew exactly what Kenya wanted. She bought two sharp suits for her upcoming interviews. She purchased the navy blue eight-button double-breasted pantsuit for the days she would be interviewing with women officials. She felt that older women seemed to be put off by hot young women or what they perceived as women who were trying to get ahead on their looks. Ironically, most of these women made it to where they presently sat, playing the same angle. Not that they were not smart enough for the job, it was just a reality of human nature that was worthy of noting. She added a powerhouse three-button black skirt-suit. The skirt-suit was for the days she would be interviewing with male officials.

So, craftily and carefully choosing a wardrobe was a must to prepare for the other games people played in the Broward County Public School system. Sex was everywhere. Not that you wanted to get involved, but you had better take notice and work the playing field. There is nothing worse than showing up to a football game dressed as a basketball player. It was a quick visit because Kenya already had a fierce pair of shoes and a handbag for both outfits. So they just popped in and out in less than twenty minutes. On to the next store to make the final pickup.

“Now, you do know if Chapman were here he would be crying like a baby. Complaining about us going into stores that we knew we didn’t have money to widow shop in.” Terri poked.

“Girl, you need Jesus. Now. Right now!”

This was the last stop on this quick shopping spree. We went quickly and directly to what she wanted. Kenya found it and made her way to the counter. The sales lady bagged the dresses and the pair were on their way once again. They passed “The Beautiful People”, or at least that is what they fancied themselves as. They were the folks who were dying to rub shoulders with the celebrity crowd or the socialites. You could always find them dropping the names of who they saw, where they saw them, and what they were talking about. Leaving The Grove, Kenya decided to take a detour and rolled by The Conch Republic. It was a swanky little Caribbean-styled eatery with a live house band. It was the place where all of the young upwardly mobile professionals came to wet their thirst throughout the week and gamble at a chance to rub shoulders with players from the Dolphins, Marlins and the Heat. Kenya and Terri looked like a couple of real live regulars. A handsome, young, dark chocolate brother opened each of their car doors and directed them to the front door. When Kenya handed the attendant the keys to the car she held onto the keys until the young man made eye contact with her. He responded with a boyish smile and instructed them to enjoy their evening out, before she surrendered the keys to his grip.

Unlike any other night, they were able to walk right into the restaurant and get two prime seats near the piano.

“Girl I feel like kicking off my shoes.”

Kenya teasingly replied, “That’s what you get for trying to get those twelves into those size eight.”

Terri rolled her eyes at Kenya and drew a circle on the tablecloth with the middle finger on her right hand.

“At least I don’t hunch up to every hairy chest I see.”

“Well you shouldn’t. Hell, you got dick on tap at the house.”

“Girl, it ain’t even like that no more.”

“Speaking of that, what was it that you had to ask me this morning that was so burning that you had to put it off until later?”

“Nothing,” mumbled Terri.

“Nothing my ass! Girl, you looked like you had been run over by an eighteen wheeler in drive and in reverse...So, are you going to tell me or what?”

Awkward silence rolled in like the last train leaving the station. Kenya nudged Terri under the table. Terri was looking down and picking at the fine woven tablecloth to avoid the subject that was rearing its ugly head. Cocking her head to the side enabled her to catch an errant tear with her left ring finger. Kenya reached down and touched her on her hand that rested on the table.

“I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Just get it off your chest,” urged Kenya.

“I don’t know what it is. It’s like I don’t know ...”

Kenya passed her a napkin as the waiter approached the table. Gesturing with her hand, she stopped the waiter before he could ask for their order.

“Two waters, two white wine spritzers, and some Backyard fried cheese as an appetizer.”

Nodding his head, the waiter walked away to place their order.

“And you were saying?”

“I don’t know him anymore. He used to be such a go-getter. Now he’s just playing those damn horns and hanging with those misfit ass-hole band members. Do you remember the Chapman Sweet that all the ladies used to swoon over?”

Kenya nodded and Terri continued.

“Where is he? What happened to him? I’m pulling my weight. I’m running around town doing all I can to secure a job on the next level of my chosen profession. If I get it…I mean when I get it.” Sobs momentarily halted her venting. “Life is going to change for us. Then we canhave our babies. As many babies as our money will allow. You’ve seen the lengths that I went to in order to get him the information on this county music job. And this whole ass, not asshole, is acting like I’m handing him some pre-used toilet paper. I mean, all he thinks about is his damn music. He doesn’t even play that well anymore. Have you heard that shit he calls music? I’m beginning to wonder if his ass is going crazy or what. I can’t even understand that noise he is calling music these days.”

Kenya said nothing. She just shifted in her seat. The waiter returned with the water and spritzers. He informed them that the appetizer would be up in a minute or two. Terri picked up her glass and gulped down her spritzer, leaving the water on the table. She placed the glass down on the table and began picking at the stem.

“Are you going to drink that or what?”, Terri pressed.

Kenya hesitated before allowing Terri to take her drink.

“Go ahead.”

As Terri began to inhale Kenya’s drink, she motioned to the waiter to bring two more. The waiter gave her the drinks that were on his tray. Kenya just sat back and looked at what Terri had transformed into since they sat down. The waiter brought two more drinks before Terri finished the second set of two she had in front of her. Kenya gave the waiter the evil eye, and drew her fingers across her throat. He understood the universal sign for “I’ll slit your throat”, and retreated knowing he’d been warned not to bring her another drink.”

“You need to slow down. We got all night, to try to work this thing out. Is that all that’s on your mind?”

“Hell, ain’t that enough? What? Do you know something I need to know? Or will I have to wait for you to tell the news to me on the Oprah Winfrey show? The show will be titled: My Tight Girl’s Husband is my Sex Slave, or some shit like that.”

“Jesus is still on the main line!”, snapped Kenya. She thought about the last time she had seen Terri so angry. Terri told her a story that was so strange, a team of writers could not have made up what happened.

It was after Chapman’s band opened for Gerald Albright and Will Downing. He had gone to his dressing room, and was going to take the stage and dual with Gerald Albright horn-to-horn. While he and Thumper were changing, they heard a rattle in a footlocker in the corner of the dressing room. They were scared, but Chapman opened it and a naked white lady leaped out and jumped on Chapman and began to hug and kiss him as soon as Terri walked through the door. She hit the ceiling and tried to fight Chapman. He didn’t hit her, but he shook her. He had strict beliefs about a man who hits a woman, after having seen his uncle smack his aunt around quite a few times.

Kenya musters up enough nerve to ask the big question. “Is...I mean, you know…there….somebody else?” Kenya exhaled as if she had just lifted and dropped a 10,000 pound weight.

Terri looked at Kenya as if she had just come face to face with the devil. “I know you know something. Tell me, and I mean now!”

“What? Girl I don’t know anything! Honest, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re always rambling on about how good Chapman is, and how lucky I am to have a man like him. What do you know about how good my raggedy ass man is?”

It was obvious she drank the wine spritzers too fast or they were too strong. Besides, she was never famous for holding her liquor.

“Take me home! Right now!”, shouted Terri.

Kenya was embarrassed. She put her head down into her hands to hide her face. She gathered her things and put her feet back into her shoes. Kenya did her best to pretend to not hear Terri as she continued on with her insecure ranting about the state of her marriage. Kenya took a deep breath and tapped her fingers on the table as she cut her eyes at Terri.

“I can’t believe you. Embarrassing me like this. And you are the one who is always telling me how to act in order to project the right image to the powers-that-be on the principal selection board, and your ass is in here acting like a teenage girl on her first night out drinking.”

Terri was shamed by Kenya’s assessment of her behavior, but she was still angry at Kenya, and yet clearly not sure why.

“Come on. I think you have had enough for one night. I knew I shouldn’t have let you drink. Let me get you home before one of us says something we can’t take back, while I still have a friend.” Kenya tried to help Terri by holding her arm, but Terri snatched away from her.

Terri’s speech is slurred. ”I don’t need your help. I ain’t ready to go. Anyway, you’re a traitor. You always side with Sweet Chapman. Why don’t you have him? He can’t do no wrong, let you tell it. Now, take me home. Right now.”

Kenya was wounded by Terri’s mean statements. “Is this my friend?”, she asked herself.

Clinching her fist and fighting to hold back her tears, a mild tremble manifested in Kenya’s almost numb limbs. She didn’t know if Terri was just being a drunken fool or if she was doing what Terri said she believed the people with Tourette’s syndrome do. According to Terri, they hid behind their disease so they can say whatever mean things they want to say, without any worry about public retaliation.

“Is this what has been on Terri’s mind all of this time?”

Kenya wondered to herself.

Terri looked over at Kenya as she pretended to be looking at the singer on stage as she belted out a soulful rendition of “That’s What Friends are For.” A single tear streamed down Kenya’s cheek. Seeing that tear seemed to spontaneously reverse the effect of the wine on Terri’s brain. A moment of clarity hit Terri like a bolt of lightening. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt her best friend in the whole wide world. Reaching across the table, Terri placed her hand on Kenya’s hand. The touch was soft, but charged with guilt. Kenya said nothing, because in her mind, it was exactly what the moment called for─Nothing. After the song ended, the crowd applauded the singer and the band. Kenya reached into her handbag and tossed a twenty and a ten-dollar bill onto the table. She put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and got up to walk out while the crowd continued the ovation for the entertainers. Terri tried to make eye contact with Kenya, but Kenya would not look at her. Terri couldn’t even find her shoes with her feet under the table. She couldn’t, so she just got down on her hands and knees and picked them up. She put on her shoes and stood tall as if she had never taken a drink all night. Walking fast to catch up to Kenya, the slight stagger and wobble to her walk was obvious. The throng of people standing and clapping served as camouflage and a crutch for Terri’s retreat to the front of the club. The fact that she had on high heels did not help her situation at all.

She finally caught up to Kenya as she stood outside waiting for the driver to bring around her crimson Acura coupe with the cream leather interior. Despite the emotional exchange that occurred between them, they were able to maintain their composure and still draw the attention of both the men and women who were walking into the club. Terri in her pink and white, hound’s-tooth three-button pantsuit and Kenya in her navy blue four-button blazer with the naval officer piping around the cuffs, and white slacks with deep cuffs at the hem with matching navy blue pumps. They were dressed to kill. The valet drove up as two old “Sugar Daddy” types walked up and tried the old player’s approach on the pair. Both men were wearing shiny three-piece Swedish knit suits, one powder blue and the other merlot, definitely holdovers from the seventies. Each man had a ring on damn near every finger including both thumbs, pocket watch chains and probably no pocket watch on the end of the chain. Their shirts were unbuttoned down to the top button on their low-cut double breasted vests. They sported so many gold chains they presented a tangled gold mess on a bed of the nappiest gray chest hair they had ever seen. The men wore hats cocked so far to the side, one man’s hat could have covered his entire ear and the other brother’s hat covered his right eye.

“Hey big legs”, said the light-blue suited player.

“This li’l cookie in the pink so fine I’ll drink her bath water and lick the ring out the tub, just to get a date with her,” the merlot-suited brother chimed in.

The brother in the powder blue suit would not be out rapped. He leaned in close so Kenya and Terri could get a whiff of his Aramis cologne. Mind you Kenya and Terri were doing their best not to make eye contact with their admirers. The powder blue suited brother’s voice rumbled in a Barry White kind of low tone.

“Ladies, I’ll get naked and put on a raw poke chop bikini, and slap box a pissed off Pit Bull just to win the chance to take one of you all out for dinner.” He lifted his right index finger and brushing under his nose as if he knew what he said would magically enchant the two sweet young things they were trying to entice.

Terri looked up, still working to control the fart-busting laugh that was trying to escape her gut. Kenya came to her rescue.

“We are very flattered by your attention, but we already have two good brothers at home and we don’t need two more.”

Terri and Kenya got into the car and closed the doors. Both men leaned over, and then stooped down to make their last pitch. Mr. Merlot Suit spoke first.

“Baby we ain’t tryin' to take y’all from y’all men.”

“If y’all don’t want to deal with no mo’ men, then we’ll be y’all boy toys. How bout that?”

Kenya and Terri looked at each other and simultaneously motioned for these brothers to talk to the hand as they drove off laughing and screaming.

The radio was up nice and loud. Dee Jay Chico the Virgo was closing out his afternoon show with his trademarked personal advice to all of his listeners. “No matter where you go, or what you do, always remember to pray. Because prayer can change you and then you can change things…See Yaaaah!”

Terri reached over and turned off the radio as soon as they hit the highway. The car became silent like the chapel at Roy Mizell’s funeral home at three o’ clock in the morning. Terri interlocked her fingers and pressed her hands against her chest, trying to physically push the words out of her throat.

“Ken…”

Kenya did not respond. She trained her eyes on the road as if she were taking a driving test for the first time.

“Kenya…I know you hear me talking to you. Look, I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t know what got into me.”

Terri did her best to wish away the silence, but to no avail. Kenya busied herself by reaching over to the control panel to close the sunroof and the door windows.

“No you aren’t, and yes you did.” Kenya’s voice trembled when she finally answered.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Why are you playing dumb all of a sudden? You knew exactly what you were saying, because you have been holding those feelings in your heart since before we graduated from college. You’re not sorry, because it felt good to finally get it out. And you did know what you were saying. You remember me telling you about this fine brother in the marching band. And when we got up the nerves to go down to try to meet him; his fire was lit for you and you only. Not that pretending to trip on the crack in the sidewalk and fall into his arms didn’t help your case. But, I yielded the right of way because I believed the man was truly attracted to my friend. You should know your friendship means more to me than just a roll in the sack. So, why are you trippin’ on me? I’m trying to help you through this rough time. I wish I had the problems you have. I’m your friend and you know my policy is, ask me no questions, I’ll tell no lies. You and your man need to start communicating. Yeah, I know I don’t have a man of my own, and I can count on you to remind me of that fact often. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on between you and Sweet.”

Terri looked as if she had been hit by a combination from Muhammad Ali. She tried to say something and Kenya cut her off.

“No…Let me finish while I can still talk. You got a good man. You’re right; I don’t know how good he is. But, based on what you have told me over the years, he definitely ain’t a throw away. Now all of a sudden you are thinking about tossing the baby out with the bath water. Girl, you better think before you do something you will live to regret.”

Terri wiped the tears from her eyes as she stared out of the window as they drove past the brightly lit buildings in downtown Miami.

“You got a point. But what I don’t understand is how come we don’t click like we use to”.

Kenya remained mute. She wanted Terri to feel the full weight of the mess she had created.

“It was almost like he used to read my mind.”, Terri’s words stumbled forth. “Now it’s like he is not even interested in opening the book. All he thinks about is that damn music and those damn misfits in that band. He always promised he was going to make me a rich woman. I gave his ass ten years, and all I have to show for it is a house that both of us have to work ourselves damn near to death, just to pay the mortgage and keep the lights on. That’s why I am doing my thing. His dreams are just that…Dreams. What you say is fine and good. But I’m not the one who’s changed. I am still the Terri that stood beside him since before we got married. I’m still the Terri that took all of that shit from them sophomoric hoes on the yard. I’m still the Terri who waited while he went away to play Army man. I’m tired of being the damn good wife. I’m tired of being the dependable one. It’s my turn to live. If he wants to do right by me, he knows exactly how he needs to be. Until then, his ass is on the freeze out. This man won’t even consider taking that sweet ass job.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Terri nodded a lazy yes.

“When is the last time you and Chapman made love?”

Terri thought about what Kenya asked her.

“I rolled over in the wee hours of this morning. Shit…I even initiated the whole thing. It was nothing major. I even did the two things I hate the most, besides giving him head. Which, come to think of it, I haven’t done in so long I probably forgot how to do it. I waited until he was sound asleep before I reached over and grabbed a hold of his early morning erection which felt like one of those old fat wooden rods that use to be used inside of the closet to hang clothes on. Now I do appreciate that. I even did something else he loves.”

“What’s that?”

“I licked and sucked on his chest through all of that hair on his chest. I hate that touchy, feely shit. I mean, I really extended myself. I don’t mind him touching me almost anywhere, when I’m in the mood, that is. But honestly, I don’t like to touch him anymore.”

“I think you need to find that fire again. You need to be honest with each other. You need more romance. You need to go home and slip on one of those sexy teddies and pour some wine and see what happens. I mean go for broke.”

“Chapman tries to be romantic, but right now I am not happy and when I’m not happy, I just can’t even go there.”

“But you just said you went there this morning.”

“Hell, I’ll do anything to get him to take that job─$70,000 is a lot of cash.”

“Ohh, so that’s what this morning was all about?”

“You ever hear the joke about the little girl who asked her mother where babies came from. Well, she asked her mother and she told the girl that, ‘The daddy put his penis in the mother’s vagina when they make love and nine months later God gives them a baby. So the little girl walked away quietly with her newfound understanding. The next morning when the mother and daughter were having breakfast, the daughter asked, ‘Mama, you told me yesterday how mommies and daddies get babies. But, last night when I got up to go to the bathroom I saw daddy with his penis in your mouth. Is that another way to get babies?’ The mother quickly responds, ‘Oh no dear…That’s how mommies get jewelry.’”

Kenya laughed lightly and shook her head in disbelief. She could not believe her friend’s point of view. The car grew silent again until Kenya turned into Terri’s driveway and the light in the house came on.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, Ken.”

“You think about what I said. Alright crazy lady?”

Terri exited the car. Continuing up the walkway to the front door of her beautiful house, she chuckled to herself as she thought back on the encounter with the Double Knit Players at The Conch Republic. Chapman opened the door before she could get the key fully into the lock. Startled by the sudden opening of the door.

“Hey Babe, what’s up?”

“Same old, same old,” responded Terri as she forced a smile and entered the house.

“How was your day? How did the meeting go?”

She barely responded as she continued through the house and Chapman followed, but not too close. Terri had a hair trigger and it didn’t take much to set her off.

Chapman thought deeply as he followed her through the house. “Why the hell do I have to be the nice one all the damn time?

I treat her with the utmost respect. I come to my castle and I have to walk on fuckin’ eggshells. If I were a nasty brother I would grab her ass by the throat and choke the shit out of her. But no…I vowed to myself just before we got married that if anyone messes up this marriage, it would not be Chapman Sweet. I’m going to keep my mouth shut and see if she comes around.”

Terri continued into the bedroom and began to take off her clothes. She seemed a little looser than usual, as she looked at herself in the mirror. She took off her jacket and tossed it onto the chair in the corner, dropped her pants and tossed them on top of her jacket. Chapman lounged on the bed as he watched. He pretended it was one of those striptease dances that Terri used to do when they first got married.

“I wonder why she doesn’t do those anymore,” Sweet thought to himself. He could not understand the changes in their relationship.

* * * * *

“There is nothing I would not do for Terri. There are some things I thought I would never do for any woman. But, I wound up doing them for Terri. Hell, I even did what most black men don’t do, or do and lie and say they don’t do. I never did that for another woman in my life. I hated it at first, but then I realized my oral power, my tongue had a way of taming the Shrew in her on an entirely higher level than me penetrating with my want. It appeared to work like magic. If I could keep my face between her naked thighs and hand her one hundred dollar bills at the same time, I would probably stand a chance at making her happy. The only time she would want me to get up, would be to allow her to pee, shower, or get her back rubbed so she could go to sleep. Occasionally she just might allow me to assume the missionary position so she could get her quarterly penis stimulated orgasm. Oh yeah! Now black men can’t be like we think men of other ethnic and cultural persuasions are. We think they have so much oral sex; they put their penis out of business.”

Terri bent over to inspect her stockings. Runs were visible in the back of both legs. She felt the holes and pulled the pantyhose off, starting at the waist. She unsnapped her bra in the front to unleash what Chapman believed to be one of the most perfect set of breast God had ever bestowed on a woman since Eve. She had nipples that any man or child would be glad to suckle, and any woman would be glad to call her own. If you were standing close to her when she had her shirt off and took a deep breath, she could poke your eyes clean out of your head.

The striptease continued as Chapman pretended not to pay attention. Terri had on a cream colored thong with a little red bow in the center of the back. He believed he was in line for some intimate activity for the second night in a row. For some reason, he thought it was safe to talk to Terri about what he believed was on her mind. She was still standing in front of the mirror examining her body. Positioning herself in the mirror so she could see Chapman’s face, Terri spoke with her chin down on her chest.

“Do you think I have a good body? I mean, am I still fine to you? Do you think other men still look at me, and want me?”

Chapman pauses as he rapidly processes the maze of questions that Terri put to him.

“Damn! Not another one of these hypothetical discussions. You know what? No matter what I say, I am always wrong. Hell yeah, you got a great body. You are as fine as can be! I see men looking at you all of the time when we are out on the town. And like them, if I had the chance I’d do you like a math problem right now.”

Just the thought of blurting this out got him excited. Instead, he held his breath before answering her.

“Terri you know the answer to all of those questions is yes. You know I speak the truth to you all the time about this same subject.”

Terri turned to face Chapman then walked over to the edge of the bed and kneeled down in front of him. Lying back on his pillow, his confused mind worked feverishly to calculate her next move. She sprang upon the bed like a lioness stalking her next meal, and then she laid down next to Chapman, close enough for him to reach over and touch her. He resisted. Instead, he touched the remote and shut off the light on the ceiling fan. The stillness in the room allowed them to hear the rain showers tapping against the windowpane, sounding like a primal call of the wild. He moved deliberately and stealthily off of the bed and to his feet. Crossing the space between the bed and the window in complete darkness, he opened the window. On his way back to the bed he switched the ceiling fan on the slowest setting. Regaining his position in the bed Chapman initially made no advances toward Terri. Tired of lying with his arm under his head, he stretched out his arm and placed it under Terri’s pillow and pulled her close. In the faint light provided by the moon, he was able to see her roll her eyes in anticipation of his next move. He wanted to make a move on her. But fought to restrain himself. He merely leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

“Good night. I hope you don’t regret having those drinks in the morning.”

Reaching over and feeling for Chapman’s face, she pinched his lips together and then playfully pulled the hair on his chin. In a twisted way, he was grateful for the attention she was showing him, even though she seemed to be under the influence of alcohol. He silently wished that she were in a clearer state of mind, because then he could know if she really wanted to be there. Swimming in uncertainty, he decided to weave his own fantasy and pretend that she wanted just what he wanted. And with that settled in his mind, Chapman rocked her in his arms, knowing deep down in the recesses of his heart, that what was in his arms was a shell of the woman he had fallen in love with, over all the others.

“For better or for worse. I have had my fill of worse, I deserve much better,” he lamented inside as Terri continued to fall deeper into her intoxicated slumber.

Beguiled

The theme song for the Tom Joyner Morning Show was rocking away as the alarm clock clicked on at 06:00 AM.

“Good morning Players. This is the Hardest Working Man in radio. The Fly Jock Tom Joyner and my side kicks Sybil Wilkes, and J. Anthony Brown. Our special guest for today will be Dr. Love Jones. He is a player extraordinaire and a self-proclaimed relationship doctor. If he can’t fix your love, you might as well throw it out in today’s garbage.”

Chapman walked through the door and placed a tray on the bed in the space he slept in before he walked over to Terri’s side of the bed. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he shook her ever so gently.

“Terri, wake up.”

She responded by stretching without even lifting her head. He shook her again. She looked up at him as if the light on the other side of her eyelids was burning her eyes.

“I got some goodies for you” Chapman whispered as he pointed to the tray on the other side of the bed. Terri turned her head to see where the food was.

“Thanks. That’s the least you could do, after you took advantage of me last night.”

Chapman looked at Terri, sideways and hard. A quick prayer flashed through his head as he grappled to get ahold of what she was talking about.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know damn well what you did. You are a low down, sneaky dog kind of brother.”

Chapman just walked away to maintain the potentially rapidly fading peace. “Ain’t that something? I’m getting blamed for some lovin’ I didn’t even get. I’m going to save this ammo for later on,” he thought to himself.

Dropping his purple silk boxers to the bathroom floor, he stepped into the shower. “Hey Terri, thanks for the information.”

“What?”

“The information. I got the packet off of the music stand. I looked it over and it sounds pretty interesting. I want to sit down and ask you some questions about the whole deal later on this week.”

Terri was making happy faces to her self in the mirror as she listened to Chapman say just what she had been wanting to hear from him. As soon as he stopped talking, Dr. Love Jones’ voice came across the airwaves.

“Sometimes you have to do some of the things you don’t want to do in order to meet your significant other in the middle of the road. This goes both ways ladies and gents.”

“I know that’s right,” Terri mumbled to herself.

Hopping up from the bed, she peeled off her cream-colored thong and tossed it into the hamper. Tiptoeing her way into the steamy bathroom, she tucked her hair under her shower cap before she slipped into the shower behind Chapman. Grabbing him around the waist, she taunted him.

“I bet I can make you late to work.”

“I bet you could…But I bet I won’t. According to you I took advantage of you and stole some lovin’ while you slept last night.”

Reaching down to his waist, he unclasped her hands and turned to face her. Peering through her feeble attempt to appear innocent, he just hugged her close and gave her a big sloppy kiss. Peeling his body from hers he stepped past her in a one fluid motion. As he passed, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his firm Mr. Goodbar. He hesitated for two reasons First, her hand is on his joystick and that was exactly what he craved. Secondly, he did not want to move too fast and have her peel the skin off of his rock hard joint and leave him in pain. He leaned back and kissed her on her forehead.

“How ‘bout we reschedule this opportunity for tonight?”

“That’s not what he’s saying.” Terri smiled coyly as she stroked the length of his now soapy shaft.

“He can say what he wants, but the bigger head says he’ll meet Ms. Kitten tonight.” Sliding the length of his firmness out of her soapy grip created a momentary epileptic response as her fingers ran over the head of his gorged desire. Stepping completely out of the shower, he left her to shower alone. Clinching his fist and willing himself not to look back, he fought his way back into his intended morning routine.

“I can do this. I can do this,” Chapman chanted to himself. Drying off with a large towel as he walked into the bedroom, he then reached back into the bathroom to hang his towel on it’s hook, without stepping back onto the tile floor. Hearing the water in the shower shut off, he quickly retreated to the bedroom. Digging around in his drawer, he managed to find a good pair of underwear and matching undershirt.

“I hate it when I can’t find good drawz and a good undershirt at the same time. This is like shooting craps. I keep coming up snake eyes. Nothing but workout drawers and yard work undershirts,” complained Chapman.

Making her way out of the bathroom, Terri strolled next to Chapman in front of the dresser mirror. He was doing his best to maintain focus, based on what he had declared to Terri just five minutes ago. She matched up a black panty and bra set as if they were hanging out in the drawer waiting for her to select them for the day. She took her towel and wiped under each breast then bent over and began to put on her black panties as if she were doing a striptease in reverse. Pulling her panties up over her full buttocks, she then paused with her finger to her lips as if she had forgotten something. Putting both of her thumbs under the waistband of her silky panties, then she skinned them down over her smooth brown butt and pushed them to her ankles without bending her knees. She stepped out of them and left them limp on the floor. Reaching over to the dresser she picked up a bottle of cocoa butter lotion with the squirt pump top. Pumping the container with one hand, she caught the milky yellow content in the palm of her hand and began to apply it up and down the length of her legs. As she bent forward and reached for her ankles, it appeared that Terri’s moon was rising on the horizon. The roundness of her behind was something to behold. The microscopic stretch marks were like stripes on a brown tiger. Chapman was trying so hard to stick to his word. He needed to; only because he believed that he didn’t need to give in to Terri’s emotional games so easily. For her, it was like she had love on tap. That’s right. Just like a keg of brew. Just pull the handle, and like magic, Chapman was eager and ready to please her. Now don’t get it twisted. Love on tap ain’t a bad thing, if it goes both ways. But nine and a half times out of ten…make that ten times out of ten; it ain’t that way at all.

She is looking good enough to eat. While she was trying to put on her panties, Chapman walked over and licked the small of her back with his warm, wet tongue.

“Stop Chapman. Remember, you have to go to work,” Terri said sarcastically.

She knew this was the game for her to play and she knew she would get what she wanted before she left for work. If she didn’t know anything, she knew two things: If she teased Chapman, he would be so hyped, he wouldn’t be able to resist; and Chapman never ceased to have the hots for her whether he was angry or happy. So, she caught him in her web once again, and the two of them rolled around as if they had all of the time in the world.