Naughty or Nice (20 page)

A
fter dinner, one long kiss leads us down the hallway to my bedroom.

I blow out the candles. I turn my back to Blue before I take off my skirt and blouse. I fold them. Place them on the floor. Slip underneath the covers before he can see my nakedness.

Bonnie Raitt sings the reflective and lingering song about “all at once.”

Blue follows my lead, undresses in the dark.

He says, “You blew out the candles.”

“I like it dark.”

“Mind if I crack the shade and let some moonlight in?”

“I'd rather not.”

Blue gets underneath the covers, puts his warm skin next to mine.

We kiss.

I whisper, “Blue?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm on the pill. Helps with my cramps. So if you don't wanna use a condom . . .”

“You have any?”

“Got a couple from my sister.”

“I'd be more comfortable with one on.”

Blue runs his hand over my body, then I open the nightstand and hand him a condom.

He touches my back, feathers his fingers down to my butt.

He whispers, “You're so soft. Beautiful. Awesome shape.”

“I could stand to do a few squats.”

“Watching you walk is like watching a gentle breeze. Your voice . . . love it.”

He traces his fingers down my back, then up, like he's riding the curve of my butt.

He whispers, “You still have your bra and panties on.”

Damp palms refuse to dry. “Didn't want to steal all of your fun.”

He unhooks my bra with one hand. I shift, jump a little.

I say, “Wow. You're . . . you're good at that.”

“Luck of the draw.”

“That wasn't luck.”

My bra is made of a rich material. Silky with nice support, like Frankie and Livvy wear. I take it from his hands, fold it, put it under my pillow. He kisses me again, touches my breasts, and his hands wander down to my panties. He starts pulling them down. I wiggle out of them.

He asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Open your eyes.”

I do.

He says, “You have a ‘hurry up' look on your face.”

My mouth feels dry. “Sorry.”

“Looks like you're in the doctor's office about to get vaccinated.”

Blue kisses my breasts. Nipples rise. He eases his kisses down my stomach to the ring in my belly button, goes lower, but I gently pull him away from his journey south, pull him toward me, kiss him, and try to hide my being uncomfortable.

I say, “Put the condom on.”

“Okay.”

I lie back, wait. Blue crawls on top of me, kisses me again.

My legs open.

I close my eyes and feel him.

He says, “Something's not working.”

I pant. “Hurts a little.”

“Relax and let me—”

“I'm trying. That's it right . . . Ouch.”

“What?”

“That's not it.”

A moment later, Blue asks, “Why are your eyes scrunched like that?”

“I'm concentrating.”

“You're tense. We can't do much with your legs that tight.”

“Blue . . . I'm not ready for this.”

“Why did you go through all of this if—?”

“I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not upset. I'm just saying.”

“Wait . . . don't get up.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Why don't you go ahead and please yourself?”

“Jack off?”

“No, I mean . . . just don't wait for me. Get it over with.”

His voice owns frustration and confusion. “Get it over with?”

“I mean, you know, go ahead and, you know.”

“It doesn't work like that, Tommie.”

I pause. “I'm sorry.”

Silence magnifies the awkwardness.

“Blue . . . I'm trying to relax.”

“Why won't you let me see you naked?”

“I'm sensitive about that.”

“It's just me and you.”

“I know.” My voice is a deep whisper. “I'm not comfortable with my body right now.”

“Don't sweat it.”

“You slipped out.”

“Don't think I was really in.”

“I felt something.”

“The tip.”

“I felt it.”

“Your thighs are tight. Look, you want to put it back in?”

“You mean touch it?”

“Yeah, touch it. Guide it home.”

“You do it.”

“Never mind.”

He rolls to the other side of the bed. The sound of him pulling latex off his flesh rings like the period at the end of a sentence.

My brain wants to go liquid. The picture I have in my mind, the way I imagine this will be, how everything works like clockwork, from dinner to here, fades like warmth against ice.

I sit up, leg bouncing, running my fingers through my hair. “Blue, it's not you. I really wanted this with you.”

His silence disturbs me even more.

My voice remains uneven. “I'm not real good at this to begin with. Haven't done this that much to start with. Only been with two guys . . . and it's been . . . been years . . .”

He sighs.

“Say something, Blue.”

“I . . . I don't know what to say . . . just . . . dunno.”

I lower my head. “You can leave if you want to.”

“You want me to leave?”

“I'm saying it'll be all right if you do.”

Blue sits on the edge of the bed, his back to me, his hands gripping his thick hair.

I wiggle back into my panties, sit in profile, my hand in my hair, inhaling the wonderful scent of stolen candles.

Blue turns and makes a quick move in my direction; my eyes widen and I shriek, cower away from him. My expression rattles him as awkwardness blankets us.

He raises his palms, waits a moment, then asks, “You okay?”

I own no words right now. Hands shaking. Again, embarrassed.

He waits, watches me, then asks, “What was . . . What just happened?”

“Thought you were gonna hit me or something.”

Blue pauses, sadness in his every move.

“Who hurt you, Tommie?”

My eyes close. “My ex.”

“What'd he do?”

“He used to beat me and stuff, that's all.”

“That's all?”

My fingers come up to my face and again I trace my history. My head shakes; my vision darkens. I didn't mean to say
that's all,
didn't mean to minimize the damage. Shame did that.

I raise my head and look Blue in the eyes. “He'd beat me over nothing.”

“That's why you left L.A.?”

“Yeah.”

Silence again.

I say, “This is really hard for me, but I'm trying. I've been in group . . .”

“Therapy.”

“Yeah. He messed my head up so bad. The last time he beat me, he kicked me . . . burned me right here . . . I ended up in the hospital. That was when my sisters found out . . . Livvy came with her husband . . . Tony beat him up real bad . . . They took me to the emergency room . . . and . . . after that . . . had to . . . told them what had been going on for the whole year . . . Frankie was ready to kill him. Stupid me lied and defended his butt. It was a big mess. A real big mess. My family was mad at me a long time. Then . . . I came back out here to finish school.”

“You came back to be with him?”

“Heck, no. Came back for me. Had to prove I could do this by myself.”

Blue pauses. “Where is he?”

“Somebody said he was in Seattle or Oregon or something.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head. “One day. Not now.”

He says, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“Me either.”

“You want me to go?”

“No, just talk to me.”

“Don't know what to say.”

We both lie back on the bed, on our backs, eyes to the ceiling.

I ask, “How many women have you been with?”

He shrugs. “Don't know.”

“More than ten?”

“Yeah.”

“Twenty?”

“Yeah.”

I ask, “How old were you when you first did it?”

“Fourteen.”

“Wow. Did you have an orgasm, or just put it in?”

“Had an orgasm.”

“How was that?”

“Scared the shit out of me.”

I laugh. “You were getting your freak on before I was born.”

He chuckles. “You?”

“I was a sophomore in college.”

“I think that gets a
wow
too.”

A dog barks out in the neighborhood. A car passes down a side street, music playing loud. I hear the kids next door, Womack's family, outside. They run out of their house. A basketball starts bouncing. Their kids start screaming like heathens.

I get up, reach under the curtains, and close my window, then get back in the bed.

Blue asks, “Are you crying?”

I shake my head. “Sinuses are draining.”

I get up again, walk down the hallway to the bathroom.

I talk louder, “I know you're disappointed. So I won't feel bad if you leave, Blue.”

He moves around. I hear him and imagine him reaching for his clothes. His footsteps move from the bedroom to the living room, going toward my front door, knowing that it's time for the erotic shades of Blue to fade from my mind.

My voice catches in my throat as I call out, “Don't forget your Unity cup.”

I blow my nose soft and gentle. His footsteps move back toward the bedroom.

He calls out, “Maybe you should take an allergy pill.”

I open my cabinet and pop two red pills, go to the kitchen, and get a glass of water.

Blue is on my bed, still sitting up, still undressed. Even in the dark, he's awesome.

As I pass by, he touches my arm. First I tremble, then relax. He invites me down next to him. I put my head on his chest. He massages my neck and shoulders with a gentle touch.

Bonnie Raitt is still in the air.

I join in, singing about an old house falling down at the dimming of the day.

He asks, “Why do you like Bonnie Raitt?”

“White girl I was in group with liked it. She was a twenty-six-year-old battered wife. Three kids.” I laugh like it was a good memory. “I hated that music at first, but she made me sit down and listen to the lyrics. Go beyond the music. You have to do that sometimes. Get below what you think is on the surface. That's what you have to do with people. Go beyond the surface. Get beyond the music they're dancing to. She taught me that.”

“She's in Texas?”

“Gloria died last year. Her husband gave her AIDS.”

“Wow.”

“He plays pro football in Florida. He had sexual hang-ups and took it out on her to make himself feel like a man.”

“So, he's—?”

“From what I hear, he's still walking around spreading the disease.”

His fingers make smooth circles on my back. My moans rise in jazzlike riffs.

He said, “You're beautiful. Smart. Why stay in an abusive relationship?”

“Stupid me thought I could change him by loving him. I
used to get on my knees and pray to God that he would change. My friend Gloria said that trying to change a man was like trying to cure cancer; we knew we were gonna fail, but we tried anyway.”

My fingers make circles in the hair on his chest.

He whispers, “Sorry if I came off too, I dunno, wrong.”

“You didn't know. I think I told you too much.”

“No you didn't.”

“You okay with it?”

“I don't have a problem with it. My mood isn't the best.”

“What's wrong?”

“Baby-momma drama. Same old.”

“Wanna talk about it?”