God's Gift to Women (14 page)

“Get the hell outta here!”

“I swear to God, it’s true. If you don’t believe me, I’ll fax you a copy of the article from the
Houston Chronicle,
” she said.

“Now that’s what I call drama! Thanks for callin’, Theresa.”

“Wait a second. I had one last question.”

“What is it?”

“Why would a man with so much going for himself behave that way? I mean, he was good-looking, educated, had a great career, and the sex wasn’t too bad either. He had it all! What makes a person like that just snap?”

The image of Olivia immediately popped into my head. I remembered how she cried in bed after we had sex, and the incident at the hotel when she hit me in the nose with the book, and the time she scared me half to death in the parking garage. I had nightmares for a week after that episode. And just like Theresa, I would ask myself the same question.
Why would a woman with so much going for herself behave that way?

I must have been reflecting on Olivia too hard, because I lost track of the conversation.

“Hello, Julian, are you still there?” Theresa asked.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, can you answer my question or not?”

“I guess some people are just emotionally unstable. They appear to be normal on the outside, but they can snap at any time. It’s not even about you, it’s about timing. Remember Glenn Close
in
Fatal Attraction
? Sometimes you can’t tell if a person is crazy until it’s too late.”

“You can say that again. Thanks for your insight, Julian. And by the way, I love your show!”

“Thanks for listening, Theresa,” I said to her. “We’ll be right back with more drama, so don’t touch that dial!”

After Mitch programmed the commercial into the computer, he came running into the studio all charged up.

“Man, if we keep this up, we’ll be number one in our time slot by the end of the year!”

I just sat there quiet, staring out the window. I was still thinking about Olivia. I had chosen that topic to deal with my own demons. All I ended up doing was bringing back old memories—bad memories.

“Julian, did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, number one.”

The rest of the night we took several calls on the subject of bugaboos. It never dawned on me how many people were dealing with stalkers and fatal attractions. One woman called from her hospital bed. She had been stabbed in the neck by a coworker who had become obsessed with her. She never showed him any interest, according to her. But that didn’t stop him from carrying a butcher knife to work and ramming it into her throat. If this much crazy shit is happening in Houston, I could only imagine what was going on in the rest of the country.

________________

The clock on my console read 1:55 A.M. when we went into the last commercial break. I pulled out my spiral notebook and prepared to recite my poetry to close the show. I took a sip of water and cleared my throat. Mitch gave me the one-minute cue and I sat up straight in my chair hoping to cap off the show with
something deep. Before I switched on my mic, the light flashed on the hotline. It was a private number for the station managers and special guests. I picked it up, hoping it wasn’t Mr. Harris, the general manager, calling to complain about the explicit language on the show.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Julian, it’s me, Terri.”

“Hey, baby, how you doin’?” I said, feeling relieved. “What are you doin’ up at two o’clock in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I tuned in to your show. You had a great topic tonight! And let me tell you, I don’t miss out on my beauty sleep for nobody.”

“I told you I was the exception to the rule, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. You wanna go on the air and make a comment about the topic? You know, give us a little expert advice.”

“I don’t know, Julian; it’s late and I’m not in the mood to be technical.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Before she could chicken out, I connected her call and put her on the air.

“We have one last caller,” I said, trying to play it off. “Would you like to give your name, miss?”

“My name is Eve,” Terri said seductively.

“What’s your comment or question, Eve?”

“Actually I called to find out if you know the difference between an obsessed woman and one who is just—aggressive?”

“I don’t understand your point.”

“My point is, some women just know what they want. It has nothing to do with being crazy. It’s more of a hunger, a craving!”

I swallowed hard. There was a moment of dead air, then she came at me again, sounding even more enticing. I could hardly recognize her voice.

“If you don’t know what I mean, I wrote a poem that could probably express it better. Would you like to hear it?”

“You wrote a poem? Now, you
know
I’ve got to hear this.” I was surprised and intrigued. “Go ahead—Eve!”

“I call it ‘Fatally Yours,’ and it goes like this:

It’s in your voice—and obvious in your eyes
not even you can pretend
You sense I’ll do everything you dream up
including things you can’t even imagine

It’s the initial attraction
That produces a sexual reaction
That stimulates and doesn’t hesitate
To guarantee total satisfaction
An insatiable desire—an intangible lust

If you touch me—you’ll feel me
If you taste me—I’ll melt sweetly
And if you penetrate me—I’ll fall deeply
fatally—you got me
lover, friend, and everything imaginable—sexually

Trembling at thoughts of what I might do
But why continue to wonder
When you can find out for yourself
just how far I will go—for you

The thought of you causes my body to applaud you
with a sensual ovation—make no mistake
this is a personal invitation

I hope you accept—taking immediate action
Because what I’m feeling can only be described as
a fatal—sexual attraction.

When she was done, I applauded.

“Now, that was deep!” I said. “Where did all of that passion come from?”

“My soul!” she replied in an erotic tone. “And there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“So, have you shared these deep feelings with your man?”

“I tried to, but he’s too busy working and hanging out with his friend to pay me any attention.”

“Why don’t you call him up right now? He might surprise you,” I said to her. “And who knows, his friend might be out of the picture and he may even have a baby-sitter for his daughter.”

“How did you know he had a daughter?”

“Just call me Miss Cleo.”

We both laughed.

“I don’t know, Julian. I’m a lot of woman. He might be too tired to pull a double shift.”

“Trust me on this one, Eve. He’ll have more than enough energy.”

“So you think I should just go over there right now dressed as I am?”

“What do you have on?”

“A silk nightie.”

“Why not? Judging by the message in your poem, you won’t have it on long.”

“I’m gonna take your advice, Julian. After all, you only live once, right?”

“That’s right—Eve.”

Terri was playing her role to a T. Mitch didn’t catch on until the end. I guess my expression gave it away. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up, then he raised his finger, indicating we had only one minute left. I tried to think of a provocative way to end the show, but Eve beat me to it.

“Can I say something to my man just in case he’s listening?”

“Please do.”

“Baby, I’m on my way over to see you. I hope you don’t mind being spontaneous.” Her tone was smooth and sensual. “Now, you know it’s been a long time, so please be patient and go slow, just like in the song ‘Tonight Is the Night’ by Betty Wright. Remember the lyrics, baby?

“You said you’d be gentle with me
and I—hope you will.”

My dick was so hard I could’ve pole-vaulted down to my car from the twenty-fifth floor. I dispensed with the formalities and got off the air as fast as I could.

“Thanks for listening, everybody. We’ll be back with more drama next week. Bye!”

I snatched my car keys off the desk and made a dash for the door. Just as I was grabbing for the knob, I brushed up against the lopsided cart rack and knocked it over. Dozens of tapes fell onto the floor.

“So, you just gonna run off without helping me clean up this mess, huh?” Mitch yelled as I rushed down the hall. “She’s probably not even gonna show up!”

“Terri might chicken out, but Eve will definitely show up,” I yelled back. “Besides, I told you to get that raggedy thing fixed three weeks ago!”

I SPED DOWN I-59 at one hundred miles an hour. The highway was empty, as if hastening me to my destination. In the distance I could see bolts of lightning flashing across the sky as a thunderstorm moved up from Galveston. I prayed that it would storm all night, or at least long enough for me to lay down with Terri.

When I arrived at the house I took a quick shower and put fresh linens on the bed. Then I lit twenty tall lavender-scented candles and made a path up the staircase leading to the bedroom. Once the atmosphere was right, I put Maxwell’s
Embrya
CD in the stereo and opened a bottle of cabernet. My parents gave it to me on my thirty-fifth birthday. They made me promise to save it for a special occasion. It felt good knowing that I had kept my promise.

Just as I removed the cork, the doorbell rang. I filled the glasses as fast as I could, then rushed to answer the door. When I opened it, Terri was standing there in a pair of thick flannel pajamas and fluffy white house slippers.

“What happened to the nightie? I thought this was supposed to be a romantic evening, not a slumber party.”

“Do you want me to go back home?”

“Of course not, come on in,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

When she walked into the living room, she noticed the trail of candles leading up the stairs to the bedroom.

“You must have really thought you were getting some tonight, huh?”

I was too pissed off to respond. All I could think about was all the trouble I had gone through. I had raced my horny ass home, put my best linens on the bed, opened up a special bottle of wine, and lit all those damned candles. My house looked like a Catholic church. And she had the nerve to be crackin’ jokes. While she listened to Maxwell, I excused myself and went back into the kitchen to pour the wine back into the bottle. I wasn’t about to waste my special bottle of Clos du Bois on flannel pajamas and fluffy house shoes.

“So, Julian, do you have any movies we can watch?” she yelled from the living room.

“No!” I yelled back. I tried not to sound irritated. “Do you have any checkers?”

“No!”

“What about Nintendo?”

“No, I don’t have Nintendo, either!” I was so frustrated I spilled half the wine trying to pour it back into the bottle.

“Dag, you don’t have anything to play with!”

“I’ve got something for you to play with, all right,” I said under my breath while grabbing my crotch.

I was so frustrated, I didn’t notice that Terri had crept into the kitchen. When I reached over for the dish towel to wipe up the spill, I got the surprise of my life. Terri was sitting on the counter wearing a black lace teddy.

“I guess we’ll just have to play with each other,” Terri said in a nasty tone. “Sorry for making you wait, baby, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She led me into the living room then advanced Maxwell’s CD to track ten, “Eachhoureachsecondeachminuteeachday: Of My Life.” The room was empty except for the stereo and the piano. The thumping bass echoed off the bare walls like in a concert hall. When the prelude started to play, she turned her back and began to dance. I took a seat on the piano bench, anxious to see how far she would go. The candlelight cast a silhouette of her voluptuous body against the wall. When the tempo increased, so did her intensity. She straddled the newel post and stroked it as if she was having sex, then she slowly peeled off her teddy and threw it in my face. Her aureola were the size of silver dollars and the nipples were erect. When she moved in closer, I tried to suck on them but she teased me by moving out of my reach. But the move that impressed me most was when she did a split, then rolled over while slipping her panties off at the same time. I thought I was going to explode. “Do me till I’m done,” I sang along with the lyrics.

When the song ended, I lifted her and carried her up the stairs toward the bedroom.

“Right here, Julian,” she said.

“What do you mean, right here?”

“I want to do it right here—on the stairs.”

“But baby, the bed is more comfor—”

“Ssshh.”
She put her finger up to my lips. “I want to do it right here, right now!”

I gently sat her down on the top stair, then pushed her backward until she was lying down. I caressed the inside of her thighs with my right hand while massaging her breasts with the other. Her body was perfect in every dimension. Her breasts were just over a handful and her abs were tight.

When I felt that she was relaxed, I spread her lips apart with my fingers and stroked her clit with my tongue. Her insides had a clean, sweet taste that made me want more.

“Ahh,” she moaned.

“Is that too rough?”

“No, baby, do it again, deeper this time.”

I palmed her ass with both hands and lifted her pelvis up to my face, then I shoved her pussy into my mouth.

“What are you tryin’ to do to me?” she said, almost out of breath.

“I’m letting you know where home is.”

“Mission accomplished!”

After she climaxed we changed places and she returned the favor. She was a little rusty at first, but after a few strokes she had a nice rhythm. She was enjoying it so much, I wasn’t sure if she was doing it for my pleasure or hers. Just as I was about to come, she abruptly stopped.