MadameFrankie (9 page)

He rocked her. He rolled her. He fucked her with maddening
merriment. She huffed and puffed until she could hold it back no longer.

She was screaming now, just moments from exploding. And so
was he as he fucked her in double time.

And then they were there, both of them at the same time.
Both of them were screaming and crying as they both came at once.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her. Fulfilled beyond her
wildest imagination, she caressed his sweaty head between her tingling breasts.

They lay in each other’s arms like long-time lovers, which
indeed they were. And then the moment came.

“I must go,
mi amor
,” he whispered to her softly.
Then he kissed her gently and stared into her understanding eyes. She smiled
knowingly.

He got up from the bed. She watched him walk his naked body
to the bathroom, then listened comfortingly as the shower water ran.

Minutes later, he returned to her, a towel wrapped around
his waist, his hair damp, his beautiful skin, moist. She had laid the money on
the dressing table next to the bed.

“Thank you, Francesca,” he said, noticing it as he dressed.
He then sat down on the bed next to her. He held her hand and looked her
lovingly in the eyes.

“You have been very good to me, Francesca,” he said.

“We’ve been very good to each other, Edgar,” she said,
taking the money from the table and sticking it in his pocket. “We make
beautiful love together.”

“I no just mean the lovemaking. And that is what it has
become to us, no? Not just sex. Lovemaking.”

“Si, mi amor,”
she agreed.

“But what you have done for me over the years. Your
kindness. Your generosity. You have afforded me much, Francesca.”

“Same here, Edgar.”

“Yes. I try to make you as happy like you make me. But you
have also made me happy to be home owner.”

“What?”

“I buy a little house with money you give me over the
years.”

“I’ve given you that much?”

“Well you and the others, of course.”

“Good for you, Edgar.”

“Yes,
mi amor
. It truly is good for me. I just hope
it truly is good for you.”

“It has been. It is.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“
Muchas gracias
, Francesca.” He then kissed her again
before getting up and leaving.

She sank back into the bed, happy, grateful and thankful.
She finally understood why Edgar never spent the night. He simply wanted what
she wanted. They had the freedom to love and make love with no strings
attached. They had the freedom to always want to come back for more. No
jealousies, no regrets, no expectations beyond their mutual needs. They had a
beautiful thing. They had wings and a nest to return to whenever they chose to.

That night she slept like a baby.

The trip to Santo Domingo was a rejuvenating experience for
both Frankie and Yvette. Each day and night in their island paradise, they were
made to feel like queens. Every unspoken command was obeyed, every secret
desire attended to, every want fulfilled. They had been rapturously serviced by
some of the most romantically profound and sexually gifted men on the planet.

Yvette was like a kid in a candy store whose thirst for
sweets was unquenchable. She rarely saw the light of day. Sex so occupied her
nights, she had to spend her days recuperating, re-energizing and reloading for
the next round of nocturnal glee between the sheets.

For Frankie, her days were filled with picnics on quiet,
virgin white beaches where Edgar fed her freshly cut mangos, bread, cheese,
wine and kisses. They parasailed over the aqua blue waters of the Caribbean and
shopped in marketplaces for pieces of amber and turquoise and silver trinkets
and whatnots.

Their nights were promised to marathon rumbas and tangos and
foot-shuffling, hip-gyrating disco merengue. Then when the music ended, they
walked along sleepy cobblestone streets beneath the silent sparkling smiles of
a million stars.

They would then return to
Casa de Mita
and make their
familiar lustful love until it was time for Edgar to leave, like Cinderella
before the clock’s final toll. And then Frankie would fall asleep, easily,
contentedly…most nights.

But every now and then, her thoughts would keep her
wide-awake, wandering and wondering. Every now and then, she would think of
Jazz.

Those thoughts, nearly melancholy, were strongest on that
final night before she and Yvette were scheduled to return to America. Edgar
was not able to see her that night, but they had said their warm goodbyes the
night before and capped it off with some of the best lovemaking they’d ever had
in all the years they’d shared.

It was a particularly beautiful night in their Dominican
paradise, which is to say, it was much like any other night.

In the hotel’s courtyard right outside the parlor, she sat
alone at a table near the trellised wall. Moonlight looked down on her as she
sipped her
Cuba Libre
thoughtfully. Fidel’s singing and piano playing
inside the parlor poured out as gently as the flower-scented breeze. She was
not surprised that she was alone out in the courtyard. The other guests were in
the parlor negotiating with handsome
bugarrones
. Even Yvette had opted
for one final fling for the road. Frankie chuckled softly at the thought.

“And what’s so funny, my lovely lady?” Cedric asked, his
rotund figure filling the doorway of the parlor, casting an Alfred
Hitchcock-like shadow along the courtyard’s cobbled ground.

“
Nada importante
,” she answered, smiling winsomely up
at her host.

“May I?” he asked indicating the empty wicker chair at her
table.

“But of course, Cedric. Please.”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting down across from her. He
looked up at the starry sky and the bright moon. “What a beautiful night it is
tonight.”

“Yes it is. But it seems like every night’s beautiful here.”

“That is nearly true,” he concurred. Though American by
birth and rearing, Cedric had been in the Dominican Republic so long that there
was a distinct Cajun-Latin cadence to his speech. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Very nice, as usual. Thank you so much.”

“I see Yvette is still enjoying her nice time.”

“Well Yvette is definitely a
getting-it-good-to-the-last-drop kind of gal.” Frankie chuckled again before
taking another sip of her drink.

“And no Edgar for you tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” she sighed good-naturedly.

“You do know there’s quite a lovely array to choose from in
the parlor.”

“I’m enjoying this right now. Sitting out here under the
stars and having a lovely conversation with you.”

“You are so sweet, Frankie. You have been one of my favorite
guests ever since your brother introduced me to you.”

“Well
Casa de Mita
has always been my favorite
vacation spot.”

“Good. So how is Jesse anyway? And how is his handsome
Dominican husband, Étienne, right?”

“Yes. Étienne. They’re both doing well. Very well. They’re
such a married couple. They’re so much in love.”

“Good for them.”

“Yes.”

“Ahhh…love. What a beautiful thing to share with someone.”

“Yes it is, I suppose.”

“And you are not in love, Frankie?”

“I think if I were in love, I probably wouldn’t be coming
down here.”

“And why not? Who’s to say love is not big enough to share
with more than one? I suspect you love Edgar and he loves you. And I suspect
you have those, or perhaps that one special one, you love back in the States,
just as you and I know Edgar certainly has other loves here.”

“Of course he does.”

“Edgar is a wonderful man. And even your brother-in-law
Étienne knows that.”

“I don’t know about that, Cedric. Étienne is a lot more
traditional than you think.”

“Is he?”

“The reason he broke up with Edgar was because he found out
Edgar was a
bugarrone
.”

“Perhaps if Edgar would have explained to him upfront,
perhaps things would have turned out differently.”

“Perhaps.”

“But then, if Étienne had not left Edgar, then he would not
have been available to fall in love with your brother Jesse.”

“Perhaps.”

“Or perhaps he would have fallen in love with both.”

“Perhaps.”

“What I do know is Edgar is in love with you.”

“I believe that.”

“And he is also in love with Emmanuel.”

“Emmanuel?”

“Yes.”

“Who is Emmanuel?”

“The young man he shares his house with.”

“I see.”

“But of course you do. And of course you are not surprised.”

“Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know. But then again, he had no reason to tell me.
He always makes me feel like I’m the only one when I’m with him.”

“And when you are with him, I’m sure you are the only one.”

“I believe that, Cedric.”

“So, tell me about your number one in the States.”

“He’s a lot like my brother and Étienne.”

“And you would wish that he would be more like Edgar.”

“Not really, Cedric. I do…love him for being him. I do love
his devotion to me. But he wants to get married.”

“And you don’t.”

“Marriage for me is a you-and-me commitment sort of thing
’til death or divorce do us part. I wouldn’t want to give up Edgar for Jazz.”

“Jazz?”

“That’s his name. And I wouldn’t want to give up Jazz for
Edgar.”

“Then why give up either?”

“That’s the way I see it. But I don’t think Jazz sees it
that way.”

“How do you know? Have you discussed it with him?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’d be surprised, Frankie, how fluid some men can be.”

“Would I?”

“Trust this old oracle of love, my dear.”

Cedric then peered into the parlor, where music played
softly, Fidel sang seductively and couples sat sharing glances and whispers at
candlelit tables.

“Take a look, my dear,” he continued. Frankie turned her
head slowly around and looked into the lovely space. “Husbands and wives,
fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, gays and straights, bisexuals and the
curious. All gathered under one loving chandelier, for one common cause.

“So many discount the sacred place sex often plays in the
affairs of the heart,” he sighed. “Sex can be such a wonderful expression of
love among all kinds of people. I’ve witnessed so much in all my years of
running
Casa de Mita
, or as my wonderful American clientele likes to
call it, House of John. That they see themselves as that is most curious.
Johns. I don’t know if they are Johns. I see them as pilgrims to a promised
land. They are thirsty souls from the desert of overburdened lives seeking the
waters of pleasure’s oasis, seeking the fountain of carnal youth. They seek the
glee of God-given joy and happiness.”

Frankie couldn’t have agreed more. What she received during
these too infrequent trips to her Dominican retreat made her a different woman,
a more relaxed woman, reflective, calmer, with an easy appreciation for the
pleasures of this world.

“I shall miss it so,” Cedric said softly, to himself, to his
guests in the parlor, to Fidel’s music. Frankie wasn’t quite sure what she
heard.

“What do you mean, Cedric?” she asked.

“I am getting old, Francesca,” he said, still staring into
the parlor. “And so is my mother in Brooklyn. She turned eighty-five on her
last birthday. I’m not sure how much longer I will have her. And I don’t want
to miss the roulette spin of back-and forth from here to Brooklyn and not be
there for her final goodbye. I’ve decided to sell
Casa de Mita
. I will
spend the rest of my days with my mother. As soon as I can find a suitable
buyer I will be gone from my paradise and return to my home.”

Frankie was speechless, but somehow, not shocked. There was
no sadness in Cedric’s words. He was simply resolved. He wasn’t doing what he
had to do. He was doing what he wanted to do. Frankie knew that, when he turned
to her and smiled, she could see it in his tear-glistening eyes. She smiled
back at him, totally understanding. She was in total awe of a man she had come
to call a friend.

“You’ll be so missed, Cedric,” she said, taking his hand.

“Keep me in your heart, my beautiful friend. And we will
never be far from each other.”

The next day, the moment Frankie and Yvette cleared customs
in Miami, they hit the terminal bar, ordered cocktails, called up Trudy and put
her on speakerphone.

“We’re back, girl!” Yvette declared, hovering over the
phone.

“And not a moment too soon,” Trudy jollied. “I know y’all
got plenty, didn’t you?”

“You know we did,” Yvette laughed, chewing on the ice from
her Harvey Wallbanger.

“Miss Thing got enough for both of us,” Frankie finally
chimed in.

“Oh don’t let Frankie pretend like she didn’t walk the
ceiling with her toenails. Bitch kept them legs up so high, I thought she had
helium balloons tied to her ankles.”

“Now how you know what I was doing, doll, since you were
busy being Sealy Posturepedic for every man in House of John.”

“Every man but Edgar.”

“That’s right, bitch. Every man but Edgar.”

“Ladies! Ladies! Put down your drinks and daggers for a
second. I miss you fools, you know that?”

“Well we missed you too, Trudy.”

“Even though we knew you couldn’t wait for us to get back
and help you with Michael’s party.”

“Well that’s true too. So when am I gonna see your crazy
asses?”

“We’re in Miami right now waiting on our connecting flight
and I’m sleeping two days straight the moment I hit LA.”

“What about you, Frankie?”

“What?”

“Heard anything from Jazz?”

“I was out of the country for seven days, Trudy. I was
indisposed.”

“Like you two don’t know how to Skype?”

“We’re taking a breather.”

“Okay now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s what supposed to mean?”

“‘Okay now.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not supposed to mean anything.”

“You know, I really can’t wait until Michael gets back, so
he can keep your busy-body ass outta my business and get you back to taking
care of your own,” Frankie fussed laughingly.

“Oh I’m gonna take care of my business all right, Miss
Francesca. You don’t even have to worry about Michael and me.”

“I know you right about that, Sis Trudy. I’m so happy for
you, girl.”

“Thanks, Frankie. I’m so happy for you too.”

“Well I’m happy for all three of us!” Yvette declared,
raising her glass. “To love, to dick and everything in between.”

“Here! Here!” Trudy said, lifting her imaginary glass.

“Here! Here!” Frankie said, lifting her glass, mellowed by
this wonderful friendship, this sisterhood. Egged on by it and the infinite possibilities
that lay ahead.

* * * * *

The next three days back in LA were a whirlwind. Michael’s
homecoming was only ten days away. Helping out with all the party preparations
was the least of Frankie and Yvette’s duties. That had to do everything in their
power to keep Trudy from bursting at the seams with excitement and
anticipation.

“Lord Almighty, please get this man home soon before this
crazy bitch bust a blood vessel,” Yvette prayed out loud as Trudy ran her and
Frankie ragged with every detail of the upcoming party. From the guest list to
all of Michael’s favorite foods, Trudy was meticulous to the point of
nit-picking.

But as exasperated as her two best friends were, they were
indeed her two best friends. They had never known Trudy to be happier, which
was saying a lot. Happiness was Trudy’s natural state. No better friend could
be found. Of the three, she was the one who always had a shoulder to cry on, an
encouraging word, a comforting hug and a sunny disposition even during the
darkest days.

So if Trudy was being overbearing, it was quite all right.
She had been without her man for nearly two years. She had every right to be
excited.

“You know I’m flying his parents in from Cleveland,” Trudy
beamed as the three gleaned over the caterer’s suggested menus.

“Are they staying with you?” Frankie asked with alarm.

“Well of course they’re staying with us.”

“Uh-oh,” Yvette moaned.

“What?”

“Girl, are you totally clueless?” Frankie attacked like a
schoolmarm.

“It’s been so long, she don’t even know what’s happening.”

“What in the world are you two talking about?”

“Trudy listen,” Frankie began, calming herself. “It’s been
two years since you got you some.”

“And two years since he got him some,” Yvette added.

“You and Michael are gonna be on fire.”

“Fire!”

“You’re gonna be all over each other the moment he steps
foot in that door. You’re gonna be fucking in the foyer, fucking on the
staircase, fucking up and down the hallway on that expensive-ass Persian runner
you got up there.”

“In the bathtub,” Yvette jumped in. “On the kitchen floor,
out on the back patio.”

“Moanin’ and groanin’ and screamin’ and yellin’ out ‘fuck
me, Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy!’ nonstop for at least the first three, four days
he’s home,” Frankie chimed in. “You fools are gonna be making such a love
ruckus, your neighbors might have to call the law down on you.”

“And you’re talking about carrying on like that with your
in-laws in the house?” Yvette interrupted.

“Oh shit,” Trudy said in a hush, her eyes widening with
realization. “You guys are right.”

“I know we’re right.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s what good girlfriends are for.”

Trudy thought about it for three seconds. “I’m bookin’ their
asses in a hotel.”

They then headed to Frederick’s of Hollywood up on Hollywood
Boulevard. Frankie and Yvette could barely keep up as Trudy raided the plus
size section.

By the time Trudy pulled out her credit card, she had carted
Starstruck floral mesh, Charlotte and Va-Va-Voom satin full figure bras, a
black satin Hollywood corset boy short set, six pairs of Lauren lace-up thongs,
three corsets—a rose embroidered, a white Renaissance satin and a Ruched
strapless—a half dozen sets of lace-top thigh high fishnet hosiery, an equal
number of fishnet pantyhose and a blood red silk kimono.

They then headed to the Pleasure Chest in West Hollywood,
known as the Bloomingdale of sex shops. All three ladies were frequent
customers. It provided the best selection of high-end vibrators, among other
things, in all of Los Angeles County.

As they pulled into the ample free parking lot, Trudy was
already sweat-palming her credit card.

The sight of the new jet-black dildo in the display case
near the entrance caused her to salivate. The size, shape, color and curve
reminded her so much of Michael. She thought long and hard about buying it. She
finally decided not to, knowing she’d have the real thing in just a matter of
days.

The ladies ooohed and ahhhhed at all the new items filling
the shelves, but Trudy already knew exactly what she wanted for her man’s
homecoming. Frankie and Yvette saluted her taste when she picked up a jar of
Sliquid Satin lube, some tranquility massage oil, scented lava candles and a
French feather tickler.

But both were a bit surprised when Trudy picked up a
flogger, a whip and a pair of rhinestone-studded soft leather cuffs.

“Girl, I didn’t know you were all up into that,” Frankie
mused, wide-eyed.

“When it comes to my man and my pussy, there’s a lot you
don’t know about what I’m up into,” Trudy answered without missing a beat. She
slapped her credit card down on the counter.

Since they were already in West Hollywood, the ladies
decided to go to
Café D’ Etoile
for happy hour cocktails and an early
dinner.

Joshua the waiter beamed at the sight of them, gave them
hugs and kisses and escorted three of his favorite B-list and below actresses
to a choice sidewalk table.

“And look at you, Miss Thing,” he gushed, as he pulled out
Frankie’s chair for her. “You are working that tan. And you too, Yvette.”

“Thank you, Josh. Thank you, Chile.” Frankie and Yvette
blushed and giggled.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, pulling out Trudy’s chair, then
Yvette’s. “You were down in the DR at House of John.”

“Seven dickalicious days!” Yvette declared. They all laughed
knowingly.

“And what about you, Trudy?” Josh asked, handing them menus.
“No sun for you?”

“Honey, I had to be here and get ready for my man’s
homecoming.”

“Oh that’s right!” Joshua remembered. “I know you’re
excited.”

“That’s not even the word for it.”

“I am sooo happy for you, Trudy.”

“Thanks, Joshua.”

“Now what can I get you ladies from the bar?”

* * * * *

It had been an absolutely marvelous day for Frankie. From
hanging out with her best girlfriends to a little innocent flirtation with
cute-ass Josh at
Café D’ Etoile
, everything was on point. When her phone
rang the moment she entered her condo and she saw it was her agent, she knew
this was going to be the icing on the cake.

“Pam!” she perked, tossing her keys on the coffee table in
her living room and kicking off her shoes.

“Hey doll.”

“So what’s up?”

“Listen, Frankie, Shonda absolutely loved you.”

“And I absolutely loved her.”

“But they had to go in another direction.”

“That bitch!”

“It wasn’t her. It was the network.”

“Those fuckin’ bastards. What happened?”

“They wanted to go a bit younger.”

“Younger?”

“Yeah.”

“So who did they decide to go with?”

“Gabrielle Union.”

“Gabrielle Union?!”

“Yep.”

“That bitch ain’t that much younger than me!”

“But she’s younger. She plays younger…and she plays sexier.”

“Sexier?!”

“Yeah. They wanted to go sexier.”

“Sexier?!”

“Yeah.”

“So suddenly I’m not sexy anymore?”

“Frankie, you spent five years in prime time in a goddamn
penguin suit. Hey, you weren’t exactly giving us Rihanna.”

“I gotta go, Pam. I need to absorb this.”

“Sorry, Frankie. Something else’ll come along.”

“Yeah, like the remake of
Murder, She Wrote
.”

She hung up her phone and plopped down on the sofa, fuming.

A little younger? A little younger!

She looked around the room. She wanted to throw something,
but all her shit was too expensive to break.

She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror in her
foyer. She got up and went to it. She assessed herself from head to toe. She
was drop-dead gorgeous!

“How the fuck that bitch play younger than me?” she groused
to herself in Shaniqua-esque.

Her phone rang again. It was Trudy. She adjusted her
attitude before clicking it on.

“Hey, doll, what’s up?”

“It’s Michael,” Trudy sobbed.

“What, Trudy?”

“He’s gone, Frankie.”

“What?”

“He’s…dead.”