Erotic City (33 page)
He replied with intense frustration, “Ramada?” He ended the slow roll of her name with a tinge of pity and frustration, and a long question mark.
Her words were fast and furious. “Fuck you. I see that little ring on this freak’s narrow-ass finger. Did you think you could just run off with this whore and live life like it’s some happily ever after shit?”
Milan looked back and forth between the two of them and then into the steel barrel of the gun. Her face owned a frightened frown and her eyes were glassy.
“Don’t do this.” Lavender slightly lowered his hands and took a step.
Ramada screamed, “Back off DeMarcus,” and abruptly turned the bottle toward Milan and began to shake all of its contents onto her face.
Milan turned her head and automatically squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. She gasped and held her breath.
Lavender leaped toward Ramada’s hand just as her finger squeezed the trigger of the pistol. A vibrant red, butane flame ignited and extended from the gun’s tip directly toward Milan. The immediate journey of what was a torch lighter could be heard as a quick, swooshlike wind.
Milan screamed with a sharp, plaintive wail.
Lavender, with unbridled fury coating his face, reached for Ramada’s slender throat with his irate, powerful weapon of a hand and punched her dead in her jaw with his right fist.
She dropped the bottle and slammed against the floor upon her back with a thud. The glass broke into pieces beside her. She collapsed and was still.
Lavender hurriedly turned around as Milan fell to her knees, shielding her face and head. He raced to lay her on her back, covering the flames with his entire body.
The loud, trampling shuffle of hurried footsteps that belonged to Jarod, Brian, and a slew of policemen sounded outside of the door as they had their guns drawn in the hallway toward the door. “Is everybody okay?” was the question as the stench of something burning pervaded where the threesome resided. The answer to the question was no.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
9:03 a.m.
G
reat Mama and Taj had been awake since eight. Turkey bacon and hash browns with onions took over the air, along with a trace of freshly brewed vanilla bean coffee. The happy sound of Taj’s laughter could be heard down the hall.
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open just as Taj’s voice became full. “Dad. Wake up. It’s morning.” Taj plopped down on the black leather settee. He was hyper.
Lavender’s eyes jetted open. The sun battled with his craving for the pillow as he turned to face his energetic son. “Good morning, Taj. Just a couple more hours, okay?” His voice was lazy.
Great Mama stepped into the room wearing a white housecoat and fluffy slippers. Her gray hair was in a short ponytail. “Taj. Come on now. Didn’t I tell you about that?” She tightened the polyester belt around her thick waist.
Groggy and exhausted, Milan sat up after gradually opening her eyes. “Good morning.”
Great Mama kept her sights on Taj but spoke to Milan. “Good morning, sweetheart. Sorry about that.”
Milan yawned and then said, “No, it’s fine. I’m getting up anyway.”
Lavender pulled the covers over his head. “For what?”
Great Mama grinned at her grandson.
“Dad. Come on.” Taj’s tone was insistent.
Lavender spoke from under the covers with a tone of loving firmness. “Just a little longer.”
“I wanna play Madden. Please.” Taj’s face wore a boyish pout, as if he knew it would soften his dad’s resistance.
Milan brought the tan Frette cotton sheet to her chin. “How about if I play Madden with you?”
Taj asked, looking shocked while pointing at Milan, “You know how to play?”
“I can try.”
He said, “Okay. Let’s go.” His energy remained on high.
“You’re a brave one,” Great Mama said to Milan as Taj stood. She took his hand and looked at Milan. “Brave in many ways.”
Milan smiled. Her nose, right cheek, and top lip barely told on her trauma. Her scars were minimal, considering the second-degree thermal burns to her face only three months earlier.
Taj broke free from his great-grandmother’s hand and stepped to Milan’s side of the bed. “Come on. I’m ready. Plus we saved you some breakfast.” He touched her arm.
Milan gave him a warm smile and he leaned in to hug her, resting his frame along her side.
Their embrace was strong.
“Hey, be careful. Not so rough, Taj. Don’t lean on her leg. You know she was still having pain from the skin they grafted.” Great Mama tapped Taj on his back. “Besides, let them get up when they’re ready. They got in late. You know that.”
Taj backed away from hugging Milan but his eyes
stayed fixed on her. He asked, “What does grafted mean?”
Milan explained while lightly touching his cheek. “It means they borrowed a little bit of skin from my leg to use on my face.”
“Skin from your leg? Where’d they put it?” he asked, coming in close to inspect her.
“Boy, come on now. Leave them be.” Great Mama tugged at him and closed the door after she and Taj walked out.
Lavender said, “Get some more sleep, baby.” He pulled the covers to his chest and turned onto his back.
“I’m okay.”
He looked over at her. “Are you sure?”
“You know I am. Don’t start your doting. I went back to work last week, didn’t I?” She removed the sheet from her body and sat on the side of the bed.
“You did. And you look good as new. That plastic surgeon did one hell of a nip-tuck.”
She turned back toward him with a look of doubt. She touched the side of her lip where a tiny bit of the pigmentation still varied. “Oh, you’re just being nice. I can still see where the stitches were.”
“Well, I can’t.”
She immediately said, “You’re lying.”
“I’m serious.” He turned onto his side to face her. His eyes were weighted.
She stood up. She actually had on champagne-
colored, silk pajamas.
He asked, “Why are you getting up so soon, anyway? We just got home not long ago.”
“I want to play with Taj.” Her energy was upbeat.
“He can wait. Come on back to bed.”
Milan headed to the closet door to grab the matching silk robe from the hook. “He’s excited. Plus he’s been good about all that’s gone on. I want him to know he can count on me.”
“You’re his stepmother now. You’ve shown him what he means to you in many ways.”
“Lavender, his mother is serving decades for trying to murder me. He needs all the attention he can get.” She draped the robe over her back. “Besides, the smell of that coffee is driving me nuts.”
“Look, stubborn. In another hour, he’ll be just as excited and he’ll still get your attention. Only you’ll get another hour’s worth of sleep. And then you’ll get in that office and continue writing that premiere episode for the second season of
Erotic City
they paid you for.”
Milian paused, removed the robe, and placed it back on the hook. She headed back to the bed. “Okay,” she said in surrender. She lay down and snuggled up to him, face-to-face with her husband.
He told her, “I just want to say again. And I know I’ve said it many times before. I’m sorry. Sorry you were nearly disfigured by the very woman you knew was off enough to do something stupid from the very beginning. I still can’t get it out of my mind. If I’d protected you by grabbing you first . . . if I’d not let you go up those stairs . . .”
“Lavender, don’t. I told you, everything happened just the way it was supposed to happen. It could have been worse.”
“It’s just always in the back of my mind.” His face showed regret.
Her eyes agreed with her heart. “We’re past that. We’re husband and wife now. We’ve been blessed enough to buy the house next door for your grandmother. And thanks to you working so hard while I was laid up, our club here is fine, and we have another club about to open in Miami next summer. We’re blessed.”
He nodded. “Yes, we are.”
“I know one thing. You marrying me in that hospital room was cool and all, but you owe me a wedding.” She gave him a quick peck on the tip of his nose.
“I got you. That’s gonna happen.”
“Good. Because this is for life.” She adjusted the covers over her shoulder and his. While he closed his eyes, she told him, “You know, I looked up the meaning of
swinging
yesterday when I was doing research for the script, and it said swinging means to cause to move to and fro. Like to move in an alternate direction.”
“Yeah.”
“Well. Is that gonna be something we do after we get tired of each other? Do you really believe in monogamy?”
His eyes reopened and he spoke sounding groggy again. “Like I told you when I put that ring on your finger that night, I want you all to myself. None of that to-and-fro madness. There is no other direction. Not after all we’ve been through. After all, our destiny is better than our history, right?”
“Definitely right.” Her eyes showed surrender.
His eyes showed more alertness. “Milan, no matter what we do in life, no matter how hard we play or what risks we take or what type of lifestyle we surround ourselves with, life is all about love. It’s all about family. And I have all that I need right here in this house.” He kissed her on the nose.
“Okay, Mr. Lewis. I believe you.”
“Life has a way of showing what really matters,” he said as they snuggled even closer.
“It does.”
His eyes closed again.
And hers did as well.
Taj’s voice could be heard from down the hall. “Mom, come on. Let’s play. Your son is ready.”
Milan took in his words and grinned. “That’s the only alternate direction I’m going in.” She opened her eyes and slipped out from under the covers, coming to a stance. She grabbed the robe again and exited the room in a dash with a smile upon her newly repaired face, feeling as though through it all, her life really and truly had . . . come alive. She said as she stepped away, “Thank you, Dear Lord, for all things.”
Lavender smiled and fell back asleep. Satisfied.
MILAN KENNEDY’S
WOMEN HAVE WET DREAMS, TOO
Twenty-one and over, please
I
’ve wanted to get the word out about how we as women have been taught to think of sex in terms of being wrong and dirty. But the truth is that we women have wet dreams, too. By the way, you might wanna take notes.
As you know by now, I’m very in touch with my sexuality and I’m very in tune with my body, so I might say some things that some of you find offensive. I’m just warning you now to consider that. If you think you’ll be offended, move on.
I want to talk to you about pleasuring. Sex is pleasurable and it is not bad to feel good. So when it comes to you and your mate, I say be as bad as you both wanna be. I want you to think about whether or not you even know what your pussy looks like, inside and out. More about that later but think in terms of presenting it proudly. We need to be bolder.
Get in touch with your womanhood. I am a sexual being and I believe we can be sexual creatures and still be 100 percent woman. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Show him what you’re working with. Who said men are the only ones who can be sexual aggressors? Ladies, it really is okay to have sex on the brain. You don’t need permission. Sex is a beautiful thing. It’s okay to be bad. I’ll tell you right now, my man thinks I should be given a Porno Award for fucking and I am damn proud of it.
First of all, we need to exercise. And I don’t mean with a barbell. I’m talking about strengthening your PC muscles. They form the floor of your pelvic area and are the muscles you use when you pee. They’re the same muscles men use, located between their ballsac and rectum, to clench to keep from cumming. If they’re premature ejaculators, they can exercise it, too. We women need to do what I call PC pushups, or Kegel exercises. Dr. Arnold Kegel was a gynecologist in Los Angeles by the way. I want to thank Dr. Kegel.
I have discovered that the stronger your PC muscles, the easier and more frequent and more intense the orgasm. Every time you stop the flow of urine, those are the muscles you want to exercise. Maybe once you wake up in the morning you could just lie still before you get up and just squeeze, release, and repeat. Even while you’re driving to work you can squeeze, release, and repeat. I get turned on just thinking about it. You can do it while no one even knows, just you and your very own pussy. That’s the beauty of it. Squeeze, release, and repeat. I know more than half of you are squeezing your pussies right now. I can see you. Yeah, you’re bad girls, all right.
Also, we must dress sexier. I’m telling you, if you do, you’ll feel sexier. Don’t dress like your aunt, even if you’re an aunt yourself. And please start with your underwear. Toss out your old undies or granny panties. Wear underwear you’d wear if you knew you were going on a romantic rendezvous with Brad Pitt or Denzel. You may believe no one knows you’re wearing them, but the most important person who knows is you. As far as what you wear to bed, toss that flannel nightgown, please. And I don’t just mean do it because a man is crawling into bed with you. Do it even if you’re single and home alone. And include tossing those ugly skirts, blouses, and casual wear. Do they de-sex you? Not good. This is all a part of, as I say, a sexual alignment. Have a fashion show for yourself. Hell, buy something leather. Be brave.
Next, buy some ho shoes. You know the shoes that look so sexy you could see yourself wearing them while your knees are bent back to the headboard? The fuck me pumps. Those shoes. Something with a very high heel, maybe bright red, or a pair that’ll show off a good pedicure. And get your hair
done
. Get rid of that ten-year-old bun and try a new look, a wig or weave or haircut, just try something different. Natural or fake, just go for it. Stop trippin about the men who make jokes about fake hair, shoot, it’s your head. Try what you want. Even a new hair color can work wonders. Go blonde and pretend you’re Beyoncé. Fantasize.
Go to a spa and get a sweet honey facial or hot rocks massage. Think of it as a makeover without surgery. You’ll have a brighter outlook and it’ll build your self-esteem. The better you feel, the “badder” you get.
