Big Girls Do Cry (18 page)

He raised his hand, still with that sad look in his eyes. “Loraine, I swear on my dead grandmother, I have no idea where those panties came from.” Wow, he was really working hard. He never swore on his grandmother—unless he really wanted me to believe him. Too bad I didn’t.

“So, what, did I pull those panties out my ass or something? Where did they come from?” Every time I talked about those damn panties, it brought me right back to the moment I found them.

“I don’t know.” He had the nerve to sound aggravated, and I was about to go off on him for it, but just that quick, he switched gears again. “I really don’t know, but what I do know is that I love you, Loraine. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t throw this marriage away.”

I looked in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was telling the truth. I guess that’s when my conscience kicked in. What was I getting so upset about? I’d had my
night of passion with a hot young man. I’d gotten my revenge. No need to take things too far when I wasn’t entirely innocent myself anymore. Besides, this was the first time in more than a year that he’d said he loved me without me having to say it first.

“Loraine, I don’t want to fight anymore.” He sounded sincere.

“Neither do I.”

“I love you. Do you still love me?” He may not have been telling the truth about the panties, but I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he loved me, and only me.

“I never stopped loving you. I just want the old Leon back.”

He smiled. So did I, and for that moment, we were connected in a way we hadn’t been in a long time. He closed the distance between us, reaching out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me in close, holding me tight.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He started to kiss my neck and ears, and it felt so damn good.

I was totally lost in the moment; I’d completely forgotten that I still hadn’t showered, until he said, “Mmmm, you smell so good. Is that a new perfume?”

Suddenly I felt nauseated. My back stiffened, and my eyes were now wide open. I could feel his tongue licking my neck. What usually turned me on was making me feel sick to my stomach. I didn’t know where he was mentally, but I sure as hell wasn’t enjoying this anymore.

I tried to push him off me, but he wouldn’t let go. “Baby, let me go take a shower, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“You ain’t going nowhere. I want you just the way you are.” I felt one hand slide under my blouse to fondle my breast as the other unzipped my skirt from behind. His hands were in so many places; he was like an octopus.

“Baby, please let me take a shower. I’ve been at the club dancing, and everything is sweaty—including down there,” I added for emphasis. I took hold of the hand going into my skirt to stop him.

“When we finish, we can take a shower together. Come on, Big Sexy. When we first met, we used to have sex the second we hit the door after a night of dancing.” He was determined. The
hand that was in my blouse was now pushing down my skirt below my hips.

Dear Lord, I did not want to have sex with Leon after I’d just had sex with another man. That would be too nasty. But the way he’d just professed his love to me, how could I tell him no? Besides, we hadn’t had sex in almost three weeks. If I turned him down, he’d get suspicious.

“Leon, please. I just want to take a shower.” By now my skirt had hit the floor, and my panties weren’t far behind. I tried once again to push him away, to no avail.

“I don’t care if you’re a little funky down there. When we got married, you said this was my pussy and I could have it anytime I wanted. Well, I want some now.”

How the hell was I supposed to respond to that?
Think, Loraine, think
. It was times like these I wished I could phone a friend. I was sure Jerome could help me find a way out of this mess.

And there it was, the answer to my problem. As soon as Jerome entered my mind, I knew exactly what his advice would be. He’d say,
Get on your knees and suck his dick. A good blow job will put his ass right to sleep
. I was going to have to buy Jerome lunch on Monday. He was helpful even when he wasn’t around.

I hadn’t given Leon a blow job in quite some time, even though I did enjoy giving them. I loved the power it gave me over a man. And I must admit I’d become pretty skilled at giving head after Jerome showed me how to deep-throat a banana about seven, eight years ago. When we first got married, I would have Leon doing the Spider-Man, I would suck his stuff so well. Then, around the time Leon started with his pre-ejaculation nonsense, Jerome suggested I stop giving him blow jobs. He said that sucking on him before we had intercourse may have had a lot to do with his lack of staying power. I was desperate for a solution, so no more blow jobs for Leon. Unfortunately, I don’t think he even noticed as long as he got his shit off, and after a while, neither did I.

“Okay, Leon. You want me, you got me. But first you gotta let Momma suck on her chocolate lollipop first.”

I guess Jerome was right; men don’t turn down blow jobs, because Leon let me go right away, grinning from ear to ear. I reached down to the thin material of his pajama pants and pulled them down. Out sprang Mr. Man, who I very eagerly took hold of as I slid to my knees.

Less than five minutes later, I was in the shower and Leon was in the bed fast asleep.

I’d just come out of the shower, my body wrapped in a large bath towel, when I heard Rashad’s car pull into the garage. He’d probably gone down to the 7-Eleven to get the morning newspaper and some coffee. I hurried downstairs to the family room so I could greet him with good news. Minutes before, I’d taken my temperature, and from all indications, I was ovulating, which was important if I was ever going to get pregnant. We’d all been disappointed when my period showed up a few weeks after my first insemination, but this time, I was determined things were going to be different.

For starters, Rashad and I were the ones who were going to deal with the doctors alone, without Ms. Micromanager, who had gone on a business trip to Virginia Beach for the weekend. Now, for the first time in two months, I didn’t have to worry about Egypt hovering over me and worrying me to death about how much sleep I was getting or what foods I could eat. Ever since we started this artificial-insemination process, she’d been dictating like she owned my womb or something.

“Rashad!” I yelled as soon as I heard the door open, startling him so much that he almost dropped one of the two coffee cups he was carrying.

“Hey, Isis, I brought you some coffee,” he said casually, as if I weren’t standing in front of him practically naked. I had to stop myself from smirking, because I knew he was dying to rip the towel off me. I’d always loved teasing him. It made our sex that much more passionate. The only difference this time was that he was trying to be somewhat well behaved because he was married,
so it would take a little more work to get him to loosen up. That was no problem, though. I had a plan that was sure to be successful.

“Thanks, but guess what?” I said, holding out a thermometer for him to see.

“Oh, Lord. You’re not sick, are you?” The look of concern on his face was sweet.

“No, silly. This is a good thing. I’ve been tracking my temperature ever since I got my period two weeks ago, and this means I’m ovulating.”

“Oh, shit. For real?”

“Look for yourself.” I waved the thermometer in his face. Conveniently, my towel dropped from around me. “Oops.” I pretended to try to stop it from falling, but when it hit the ground, I waited a few seconds so he could get a good view before I bent over to pick it up. I wrapped myself up again, leaving the towel low enough that my breasts were practically spilling over the top. Then I acted like nothing had happened, bringing his attention back to the thermometer.

“You see what I mean? Ninety-nine point one.”

Just as I’d expected, Rashad’s eyes were not fixated anywhere near the thermometer. They were glued on my DDD breasts as if he had forgotten just how perfect they were.

“Boy, you better give me one of those cups before you make a mess.” I casually took a coffee out of his hands, then glanced at his crotch, where his penis was bulging against the material of his sweatpants. I turned around to set the coffee cup on an end table, bending extra low so he could get a good view between my legs.

My plan was working perfectly. He wanted me as bad as I wanted him, but I still had to play along with this charade. If I jumped on him now and he started feeling guilty later, he would blame the whole thing on me. I was not about to have this explode in my face. No, I would just have to entice him until he made the decision on his own to come back to me.

“Umm, don’t you think you should go put some clothes on?” His voice had taken on a lower tone—one I remembered well from the past. He was trying to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working, because his hard dick had already given him away.

“Stop trippin’, Rashad. Ain’t nothing here you ain’t seen before,” I said flippantly.

“That was then and this is now. Things are different and you know it. Now, go cover yourself up.” It was cute the way he was trying to act all faithful and everything. He might do a better job if he kept his eyes off my titties, though.

“Fine, I’ll cover up,” I said as he sat on the sofa.

Instead of leaving the room to get dressed, I sat back on the arm of the sofa next to him. He sighed, but I knew it was just to hide the fact that he was dying to reach out and touch me. Mr. Cover Yourself kept stealing glances at my breasts as I spoke to him.

“So, you still didn’t tell me. What should we do about the fact that I’m ovulating?”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. We better hurry up and get you to the clinic.” He tried to stand up, but I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

“Yes, we should, but it’s Saturday. The clinic is closed.”

“Damn.” His face fell.

I felt a little bad that he looked so disappointed, but it had to be done this way for my plan to work. This was the one good thing about Egypt being so controlling. Rashad let her handle all the details. She would have known that the clinic always had someone on call in case you were ovulating during hours they were closed. Rashad, on the other hand, didn’t know this, which was just how I wanted it.

“I know. Bad timing, to be ovulating on a Saturday. But we have to do something. I just feel like today is the day I’m going to get pregnant.”

He paused for a moment to think.

“Damn, maybe I should call Egypt. She’ll know what to do.”

“No!” I fought against a sudden rising panic. If she got involved, my plan would fall completely apart—not to mention that she might discover what I was up to. “We can figure this out, can’t we? We shouldn’t have to run to Egypt for everything.” I leaned back a little so the towel rode up higher on my thighs. His eyes wandered downward.

“You do know there are ways I can get pregnant other than going down to the clinic, right?”

Okay, big boy, I put it out there. Now, let’s see what you do with that.

Rashad lifted his head, his eyes no longer trying to burn a hole through my towel but staring me right in the face. “What are you trying to say, Isis?”

He knew exactly what I was trying to say. He just didn’t want to say it out loud, and neither did I.

“What do you think I’m saying?” I leaned forward, staring right back in his face. I came out as the winner of our staring contest when he lowered his head, and his eyes found their way back to my sweet spot. I blatantly opened my legs so the poor guy could finally get a good look at what he’d been wanting to see.

Now, Rashad could have just gotten up, walked away, cursed me out, or even called Egypt, but he just sat there in silent contemplation. I watched as not a muscle moved in his face. It was like he was made of stone—all the way down to my favorite place, where I wanted him to be as hard as a rock.

I studied his face as he wavered between wanting me and wanting to do the right thing. It was either one or the other, and we both knew there would be no going back if we crossed that line.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying we need to get your sperm inside while I’m ovulating.”

“You’re right, but what about Egypt?”

“What about her? She wants this baby just as much as you do. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The baby.”

Again, he was lost in thought, but I took it as a good sign that he hadn’t just flat-out said no. “Isis, if she ever found out…”

It was obvious we had a trust issue. He wanted to do it, but he was afraid I might throw it in my sister’s face one day. What he didn’t understand was that when I got finished putting it on him and had his baby, he was going to end up telling Egypt himself about us—right before we walked out the door.

“I’m not going to tell her,” I replied with confidence. “Are you?”

He sat back in his chair. “You do know I love your sister, don’t you?”

“This isn’t about my sister. This is about me getting pregnant so I can have your child.” I kept bringing up the baby, because I wanted to hammer home the one thing I knew was important to him. The one thing I could provide for him that my sister could not. “You do want this baby, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want the baby.” His voice sounded defeated as he patted the empty seat next to him on the sofa. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Finally! It was all I could do not to reach out and kiss him. But I waited. I wanted him to make the first move. Ten years from now, I wanted to be able to tell our children that their father seduced me, not the other way around.

I felt myself getting aroused just sitting so close to him, and I could tell by the way he was breathing that he was feeling it too.

“This is between us, right? We’re just doing this to make a baby, right?”

I think he was asking himself the questions as much as he was asking me. If he needed to soothe his conscience by pretending this wasn’t lust, I didn’t mind.

“Just between us,” I assured him.