Nasty (26 page)

The powerful flashback had drained him. His mind was in complete chaos. He needed to rearrange his attitude if he was going to make it through the funeral.

As if attempting a baptism…he splashed several handfuls of cold water on his face…hoping the shocking temperature would return his unstable mind back to normal. He continued this for what seemed like hours, but still the man in the mirror confirmed that nothing had changed but time. Carlos could feel he was easily slipping down a mental path that led to nowhere good.

J
onathan ran up the stairs four steps at a time. An overwhelming urge to relieve his bladder that he’d ignored during his entire trip to the funeral home was now demanding immediate attention. He burst through the door and ran into Carlos in the foyer.

“Carlos…”

“Glad you made it.”

“Am I too late?”

“No, Tarik’s not even here yet. We’re waiting for him to start.”

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

Still weak from his experience in the bathroom, Carlos absent-mindedly pointed down the long hall.

Jonathan quickly followed his directions. He found the bathroom. Upon exiting, he saw that the door to the gallery was partially open. Though the sign said, “Do Not Enter,” he could hear a woman humming. The voice was very familiar.

Nicola stood in a far-off corner with her back to the door, in deep thought. She was examining a Nigerian statue. She was still trying to shake thoughts of how different life would’ve been if Ophelia had adopted her.

Sneaking up on her, breaking her concentration, Jonathan covered both of her eyes. “Guess who?”
Nicola twirled around to face him. “It could only be you!” They hugged each other tightly and warmly. Nicola was glad to see him. She needed to think about something other than a missed opportunity that she really had had no control over. Sex as always, would be just what she needed to preoccupy her mind and put her back in a happy space. She had not expected an opportunity to spend time alone with Jonathan again. One more chance to feel his young, muscular arms frantically search her body like a poisoned man hunting for an antidote.

Jonathan, though not as talented a lover or as well-equipped as Carlos, beat him out in the eagerness department. Nothing was sexier to her than a man who had to have it. He was always horny. Always ready to go several times on the love treadmill. Carlos, phenomenal tools notwithstanding, occasionally was blasé about screwing. She thought of how he had rejected her earlier.

Her mind quickly drifted back to an afternoon she’d spent with Jonathan. Their lovemaking session had absolutely drained her. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, only to be reawakened by his attempt to sneak his steel-hard shaft inside of her without disturbing her. She remembered how innocent he looked when she opened her eyes and caught him in the act. He’d said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. But I…I had to get some…more. Is it okay?”

She only smiled and whispered, “Hell, yes!” He continued to shove himself deep into her opening. Aroused, she had responded in kind, her walls lubricating, giving Jonathan’s manhood a full VIP reception. He pumped into her with such gusto one would think he received an e-mail warning that this would be his last visit to Nicolaville.

He kept striking her hot spot with a perfect level of pressure,
catapulting her passion to a volcanic erupting zone. They rocked together like two ships caught in a perfect storm; their bodies swaying together. Coming together, thick hot fluid leaked out, heralding the consummation of their passion.

Nicola smiled as she remembered that passionate afternoon and got horny all over again. The memory was so powerful she ground her hips against Jonathan’s body. He responded in kind. Like two virgins trying to get an orgasm without the actual deed, they dipped and grooved their limbs hard against each other’s organs, hoping that the friction, even through clothing, would bring them the excitement their bodies desired.

Rock hard, Jonathan whispered, “For Christ’s sake, Nicola… the funeral—”

“What about the funeral?” Nicola was so excited, he couldn’t reason with her.

“You can’t…I can’t…we just can’t do this.”

Nicola pulled herself from him. “Oh, but we can…and we will.”

She headed for the entrance door and slammed it shut, locking out all thoughts of the life she could have had with Ophelia. Pleased that soon she would be so immersed in erotic ecstasy…she’d never think about her childhood…never think about how she might have never been tortured by the Martins.
In just a few seconds,
thought Nicola,
it’ll just be our two bodies rocking together…erasing all the negatives in my past.

Pull yourself together
, Carlos whispered to himself. He needed to focus to work the funeral the way he planned. Drawing on all the energy he could muster, he eventually calmed down and morphed into the image of a confident young man who was more than capable of taking care of business.

Scanning the room to see who had attended, he discovered Uncle Link huddled in a corner with his mother. A smile crept into his face. He knew the shy, but extremely successful attorney had a crush on his mom. Carlos did not disapprove. He knew Pops would have given his best friend his approval as well.

Slowly regaining control of his mind, Carlos was pleased that the little funeral they had planned was turning into an event. As he had hoped, members of the press did attend. With a little help from some of his friends, the word had obviously spread that Tarik’s dad had passed. Even a few artists, who saw the announcement in the paper and remembered Eli, came to pay their respects. In total, there were almost seventy-five people present.

He saw a young rapper who he and Tarik had considered producing in the near future. He quickly greeted him and engaged in a conversation, hoping that keeping busy would help extinguish the insane inferno blazing in his mind.

Ophelia had Tarik pull together a CD with Eli’s favorite tunes. Jazz from old timers Ike Quebec, the Duke, Queen Ella and Lady Day. The music played softly in the background as she and Link updated each other on their lives.

Tarik finally arrived with Sherry and Javon. Ophelia held out her arms for her young grandson. He ran into them and greeted her with a big, sloppy kiss.

“How’s my favorite grandbaby doing?”

“Good, Grandma Ophelia. You gonna show me where they go to sleep?”

“Sleep? Sherry…?” Ophelia looked at Sherry and Tarik, not understanding what Javon was talking about.

“It’s a long story; we’ll tell you later.” Sherry kissed Javon on the cheek. “Mommy and Daddy will show you the sleep place…later.”

“Mama, I’m sorry for being so late.” He asked hopefully, “Did we miss it?”

Tarik looked around and realized that the chapel was packed. He had expected only the immediate family. “Who are all these people?”

“Sweetheart, there was no way I was going to start this without you. As for this crowd, most of these folks are Carlos’s friends and a few of Eli’s old artist cronies. Now let me go tell Arnold we can start with the ceremony.”

Arnold Thompson was pouring it on hard. It was only his second time presiding over a funeral. Though he’d been groomed to take over the family business, a spiritual calling too powerful to ignore had dragged him to divinity school. He had finished his first year and he was eager to lead a flock to glory and welcomed any chance to deliver a service. He poured out
a powerful message for Eli and his passing. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as he dramatically testified about the complexities of life.

Bored as most children were at events like funerals, Javon fidgeted and kept getting in and out of his chair. He was getting on Sherry’s last nerve. “Keep still, baby, please.” She leaned over to Tarik. “I knew we should have gotten a babysitter.”

“We tried, remember?”

Sherry sighed. She was really going to have to expand her babysitter file. Now that Tarik’s career was catapulting, she often had to attend functions at the drop of a hat. She had sworn she’d never get a nanny, but it was becoming an unavoidable choice.

As Javon squirmed out of his seat for the fifth time, and Tarik lifted him up and made him sit on his lap, she made her decision. Monday they would start interviewing nannies. Especially now that there were twins on the way, she would need the extra help. She smiled. Tarik didn’t know. She had discovered the news at her first prenatal visit. The doctor had scheduled another appointment in two weeks. Tarik was coming. That’s when she would surprise him.

Sherry was happy. She looked over at her talented handsome husband. He was bouncing their son on his knee, trying to quiet him down. She smiled. Even with his busy schedule, he always made sure that family was his number one priority. She no longer harbored doubts about Tarik’s fidelity. After he had been so candid about what Nicola had done to him at the after-party, she knew he was an honest man.

During the service, Ophelia sobbed like an abandoned baby found on the steps of a church. Pissed at Eli for the loser he
was, she still cried. She hadn’t dropped a single tear at Pops’ funeral. Everyone then had thought her a brave woman.

But now she knew why she didn’t cry for Pops. It had nothing to do with courage. It was all about that silly, makes no damn sense at all, crazy thing called love. It made a difference. Eli had been her one and only. Worthless as he had been, she mourned that she’d never share time with him again. He had finally kicked his habit and cleaned up. So sad they would find themselves only to be separated again. This time for good. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her.

And what about Nicola and how she was the little baby they were going to adopt? They never had a chance to raise Tarik together. If their love had triumphed, she wouldn’t now have to decide how to tear Carlos away from the evil vixen she knew Nicola had become.

Carlos could not listen to the sermon. What was Nicola doing? There wasn’t that much artwork in that room. He tried to relax and get a grip on himself and sanity, but he was losing the battle. He wanted to go back and drag her to the service, but he knew it would piss her off. He didn’t want her to think he was spying.

But curiosity was bugging him out. His thoughts made no sense. Of course, she was still examining the artwork; appreciating the nuances of the statues. He remembered how she literally spent an hour studying one bowl at the Egyptian exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was then that he fully realized how much she loved art. He made a mental note to take her to Egypt to tour their museums and visit the pyramids on her next birthday.

He cringed inside. He didn’t even know her birth date. If he thought hard about it…he really didn’t have much information
about her life. He only knew two things about Nicola for sure… she liked to fuck and she liked to fuck a lot.

She was just looking at the pictures. He knew that. But it still did not plug up the mental hole that leaked out all of his better judgment. His mind had taken an unexpected turn into jump-to-conclusion land and he was two seconds from exploding. The doubt he had about Nicola’s character was consuming all his good sense. The thoughts in his mind were like demons partying hard at a sinner’s convention.

What if she’s not just looking at pictures? Could she have slipped out and decided to be with someone else? The thought sent icicles through his veins. Visions of another man caressing his woman’s body made his blood boil. Like a knee reflex, he felt for his pistol.

He shook his head. He had to stop the crazy thinking before it was too late. Before Nicola, he’d seen guys go off the deep end over a woman. He’d always laughed at them. He wasn’t laughing now.

N
icola was not satisfied with heavy petting. She turned off the lights in the gallery, grabbed Jonathan, dragged him into the office and pushed him down on the chaise lounge. Knowing what was going to happen next, Jonathan liberated his sledgehammer-hard rod from his pants. He pulled Nicola to him, parted her legs and shoved his fingers past a silk beaded thong. She was wet and she was ready. In a deep guttural voice, he claimed, “We don’t need these.” He ripped off the thong and threw it on the floor.

“Oh, Jonathan, baby.” Excited by his assertiveness, she impaled herself on Jonathan’s glistening pole. She glided up and down its full length. “Ooh, it feels too good.”

Jonathan was losing it. The thought of fucking in a funeral home was as absurd to him as it was erotic. Hard, cold dead bodies contrasted with his granite dick. Nicola grinded on him with skill. He reached into her open blouse and fondled her breasts.

“Jonathan, lick my nipples. Lick them like I taught you, baby.” He obeyed. “You so good to mama.; so good.” She slid up and down his shaft. With each landing against his body, her pleasure knob was stroked. “Touch my spot, Jonathan. Rub it good; rub it real good.”

Like a robot, he massaged her joy button just like she liked it. First slowly, and then speeding it up, applying just the right amount of pleasure. Feeling an orgasm coming, Nicola rode his dick stallion-style, like she was racing competitively. The prize…ecstasy.

Carlos couldn’t help himself. He had to see Nicola. He got out of his seat in the middle of Thompson’s sermon. With every step down the long dark corridor, fate accompanied him. He was never going to walk down a hall the same way again.

Hector’s voice kept whispering:
Eat your ice cream, boy…that Nicola’s a slut
. The voice was driving Carlos insane.

Before turning the knob on the door, he hesitated for what seemed an eternity. Hector commanded him:
Turn the doorknob, boy…she’s in there fucking somebody…you know it. Open the door…eat your ice cream.

Growing madder by the minute, Carlos heard voices from behind the door. A man and a woman. He couldn’t make out the words, but even he knew that the couple beyond the door were engaged in an intimate moment.

Jonathan was going to explode any second. He couldn’t hold back…not anymore. “I’m gonna come, Nicola. I’m gonna come, baby!’’