Single Husbands (7 page)

“I know. But I’ve barely seen you over the last two months,” Herschel said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you whenever,” Nikki said, leaving the fruit and the yogurt on the counter. She went into her spacious
walk-in closet and tossed a red bikini into her oversized purse. Scanning for something to wear, she reached for her lavender
halter-top dress.

Standing directly behind her, Herschel’s hands covered hers. “Whenever? You come in here after five this morning, sleep all
day, and now you’re leaving until whenever? I thought you had to cater a party tonight.” Snatching the dress from the rack,
he said, “You are not wearing this dress out of this house.”

“Haaa!” Nikki exhaled, clenching her purse. She didn’t feel like arguing with Herschel again. What was she thinking? That
dress didn’t match her swimsuit anyway. She quietly excused herself from the closet, exited the bedroom, left the house, hopped
in her car, then sped out of the driveway. The loose-fitting mint-green cotton shorts and tank-top T-shirt she’d slept in
last night were fine. She could stroll South Beach topless if she wanted and she’d be among the majority of the women getting
perfect line-free titty tans.

Why—oh, why—didn’t she stay single? Nikki didn’t enjoy disrespecting her husband; it was her way of maintaining her power.
During her marriage, Nikki had grown her own set of balls. No more pretending with Herschel, catering to Herschel, being inconvenienced
for Herschel, or lying around her house with him when she didn’t want to be there with him. Herschel was lucky Nikki hadn’t
told him about her affair with Lexington. The only reason she hadn’t told him was that it would destroy her friendship with
Donna.

She’d known Donna before they moved one mansion away from her and Herschel. Nikki had prepared appetizers for Donna’s girls’
birthday parties in the last few years. Lexington talked about wanting to spend time with his kids. Nikki agreed, but if that
meant time away from her, she’d support—not encourage—his planning. Nikki had her own problems with financially providing
for her husband’s illegitimate son. Herschel did not want another child. Her husband wanted her to relinquish her dominant
position. Would her husband be happier if she were confused like he was?

“I’m crazy in love with my job. I’m damn good at it. And I pay the bills in my house. Not Herschel,” Nikki said, driving past
Lexington’s estate.

Shit. She needed a baby like a fish needed a blow job. As she cruised by the guard shack, that thought made her laugh. Nikki
sat at the red light, watching cars speed along US 41. Maybe she should’ve just bought herself some fish instead of getting
married. Driving along Fifth Street, Nikki took a right at Collins, left at Fourth, then another right. She cruised along
Ocean Avenue in her convertible, checking out the sexy-ass PRCLs—Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Latino men—at the sidewalk cafés.
She wondered if marrying one of them would’ve been better than walking down the aisle to let Herschel put an incarceration
ring on her finger. It was a ring she only wore because she was trapped in the eyes of lurking paparazzi waiting to exploit
her and the husband she once loved… She didn’t love her husband anymore.

The attractive men she saw couldn’t be worse than Herschel. At least not the PRCLs she’d fuck—not giving a fuck about more
than coming, so she could go about her day. The one thing each of her PRCL lovers had in common was they were all passionate.
They were crazy about her; they satisfied her sexually; they had a zest for life; they enjoyed what they did. That was more
than she could say about her discontented husband. What would it take to make her husband happy again? Who? What? When had
he changed his outlook on life?
Despite… in spite…
she’d remained his lawfully wedded wife. The question she needed to answer: why?

Herschel wasn’t passionate about his job, he wasn’t happy with Ivory or Anthony, and he hated Nikki. Which was exactly why
Nikki was headed to Nikki Beach for a late lunch, not with the man she should’ve married, but to connect to the universe and
lay with her feet in the sand.

Nikki parked at valet and handed the attendant her keys. She started to bypass the gift shop but decided to step inside. “I’ll
take these,” she said, laying the cutest sheer purple pants on the counter. Dashing into the restroom, Nikki removed her clothes,
covered her body with Hawaiian suntan oil, slipped into her sizzling red bikini, stepped into her pants, then exited the ladies’
room.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, almost bumping into a kissing couple standing in front of the restroom door.

A kiss was never just a kiss. She wondered if the man who was kissing the woman was equally as passionate about her as she
appeared to be about him. Had they just met? Did they travel to South Beach together on vacation? Or was the guy in town on
business in search of some fun and she just so happened to be the one he chose?

Lying on one of the canopy beds mounted in the sand, the white cotton sheets draping over the top and down the sides of each
post flapping in the wind, comforted her. Removing her pants, Nikki motioned for the waiter. “I’d like your signature mojito,
please, with two sugarcane sticks.”

Sugarcane fields deep in the South. Bogalusa, Louisiana. Nikki closed her eyes, remembering the days her grandfather would
go out into those fields, whack down canes with a sickle knife, then peel away the stems with his pocketknife and hand her
and her two sisters a slice of what Grandpa called “Heaven’s sugar.” No preservatives. No additives. She missed her grandparents,
her parents, and her sisters too. They were all alive, and presumably well, living what they considered Christian lives. They’d
disassociated themselves from her, saying she was destined to go to hell. Well, that was okay with Nikki, because to live
any life other than the one she wanted would be a lie. And God, who was a forgiving God, would never want her to be unhappy.
She opened her eyes.

There were a few tables with chairs at Nikki Beach, but most guests came to experience being served food and drinks in a bed
while tanning on the beach in the sun. Easing on her sunglasses, she reclined under the 80-degree heat as the bartender set
her beverage on a tray at the foot of her bed beside her feet.

Reaching for her phone, Nikki answered Lexington’s call. “Hey, baby. How are you?”

“I’m good, and you?” he said seductively.

“I had so much fun at the club. We on again next Saturday?” she asked, smiling while biting her bottom lip.

Hesitantly Lexington said, “Let me think about that. I’ll let you know.”

“There’s nothing for me to think about. I’ll be there. The question was intended for you,” Nikki said. “Call me later. Bye.”

Nikki wondered why she took everything she’d done seriously except being married. Ten years in, it was safer and cheaper to
stay legally obligated to Herschel. Marrying him in the first place was her mistake. In retrospect, it wasn’t a good idea
inviting him to her home for a private party she hosted for her thirty-four neighbors on The Island. How was she to know Herschel
would befriend her neighbor Anthony? What was she thinking? She wasn’t. Nikki was simply enjoying her life when she’d met
Herschel. And when they first met, he was a ton of fun. Everybody at the party that night, including Lexington, liked Herschel.

Nikki’s waterfront property on Biscayne Bay, her yacht, her Lamborghini, which she seldom drove because she was always traveling,
her infinity pool, her outdoor and indoor Jacuzzis, and her tennis court were comparable to what Lexington and Brian owned.
The difference was Nikki had purchased her property before getting married. They each lived approximately two blocks’ walking
distance away from one another. The barriers of tall palm trees, larval and nectar plants that attracted beautiful butterflies,
bird-of-paradise, bougainvillea, and other exotic tropical plants provided added privacy for each neighbor.

A woman with her own shit didn’t need a dick to validate her, but Nikki’s traditional Southern churchgoing parents didn’t
see things her way. They felt Herschel was sent by God. Having a husband was an investment in the future of their family,
whenever Nikki did decide to settle down and have the babies Nikki never wanted. She was one of four girls (if she counted
the daughter her father had out of wedlock) and her parents desperately wanted lots of, as they’d say, “grandbabies.”

Nikki’s parents’ emotions had ruled over her senses when Herschel proposed to her on national television during one of her
cooking shows. Why had she invited him on as her guest? That was the first and last time she’d made that mistake. Of all the
places Herschel could’ve gotten down on both knees, pulled a decent diamond ring out of his pocket, and popped the question,
why did he have to do it when millions of people were watching her show live? Watching him on two knees begging, instead of
being on one knee proposing, Nikki didn’t want to embarrass him; and she did like him, so why not marry him? It would make
her Christian parents happy.

Before and after marrying Herschel, fucking Lexington kept Nikki happy. The more she became emotionally attached to Lexington,
the less she visited Donna and the more she tolerated Herschel. The only thing she had to get under control was Herschel’s
raging temper. His aggressiveness in the bedroom had grown increasingly dangerous. At first, she was cool with a little light
physical interaction. But not anymore. Herschel’s hands had gotten too heavy. What if one time he went too far and choked
her to death? Maybe that was his intent, so he could inherit her millions and her property and share it with his baby mama.
Unbeknownst to Herschel, everything Nikki owned was willed to her girlfriend Venus. Sometimes friends were closer than family.

Men weren’t as smart as women. Until today, Herschel thought Nikki didn’t know anything about his so-called private lifestyle.
To the contrary, she knew Ivory was a well-kept mistress who didn’t work. The truth was, Nikki was glad Ivory had given Herschel
a son. Now Herschel could shut up and stop pressuring Nikki about having his baby.

Nikki knew about the house that Herschel had bought with her money for his mistress and their son, but she didn’t care. As
long as he stuck to their agreement and lived off the interest of her money and his salary, Nikki didn’t care what Herschel
spent money on.

When she had less money, she wanted to please her husband more. Now that she had more money, she wanted to please herself
more. She couldn’t take any of the money to her grave, and the money she made allowed her to live a lifestyle most men would
die trying to attain. Nikki didn’t really care about Herschel being bisexual, because she was too. Venus was more than just
a friend.

Nikki’s business was blossoming, and yes, her husband did look great on her arm and they were the envy of many couples when
they attended celebrity functions. Herschel tried hard to model himself after Brian and elevate his status by proclaiming
they were a power couple too, but the media saw right through Herschel’s desperate attempts to stay in front of the cameras
in hopes of making himself a star. The only real attention Herschel would get would be if he came out of the closet or if
she divorced him. Then the media would grant him a few moments of fame before everyone, including the media, would forget
he ever existed, until a conversation of down-low brothas and the sistahs who shouldn’t have married them came up.

Nikki removed her pants, stretched her body on the white cotton sheet, sipped her mojito, closed her eyes, and relaxed in
the sunshine. Mentally channeling her energy throughout her body, she visualized Lexington’s strong hands pressing her breasts
together. His tongue circled her areolas before suctioning her protruding nipples. She felt his mouth on her mouth, slowly
trailing kisses to her clit—licking, then sucking, then gently kissing her pearl. Nikki closed her eyes tighter as his hard
dickhead pressed against her shaft, making her pussy pulsate with his throbs. Sliding back her hood, exposing her clitoris,
Lexington teased her clit. His lips surrounded her clit while his tongue flicked up and up and up again. Nikki squeezed her
thighs, butt, and vagina, thrusting her shaft in his mouth as she came repeatedly.

Life for Nikki Henderson was good. Real good.

H
ouston, Texas. Home of the most beautiful—inside and out—women in America. Business wasn’t always before pleasure. Last night,
Brian struck gold with a tall, long-legged, Creole, slender, supersexy woman, with flowing chestnut-brown hair and dreamy
hazel eyes. No doubt if he weren’t already married, he could’ve taken her home to meet his parents. She had the perfect fitting
name that meant fair-skinned. Zahra almost made him break his rule of never sexing the same woman twice.

Zahra was so strikingly gorgeous men gawked at her. Women stared with envy, rolling their eyes at her. She was so beautiful
he refused to take her directly to any hotel. Chest thrust forward, head stretched to the heavens, Brian dined her at the
Grand Lux Café on Westheimer Road, treated her to the lingerie of her liking from Victoria’s Secret at the Galleria Mall,
reimbursed her double what she’d paid for the suite at the JW, spent the night at the hotel with her, had breakfast at Empire
Café, then reluctantly dropped her off at her home on Sherman Oaks Drive.

He was tempted to accept her invitation (“Come inside for a moment”) but reluctantly declined. “I’d better get going. The
game starts at four.”

“Please, Malik. It’s two o’clock, you’re not that far away from the arena, and I promise it’ll only take a minute. I have
to show you something,” she insisted, sitting in the passenger seat, with the door opened.

Her feet were flat on the asphalt, but her ass was still in his car. Obviously, she wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t push her
out of the car. That would be rude. The time they’d wasted going back and forth, he could’ve seen whatever it was she desperately
wanted to show him.