Torn Between Two Lovers (4 page)

“Oh my goodness, I'm about to come,” Loraine whispered, then suddenly she gasped, her back arched, and her body shook in small convulsions. “Oh, Michael…,” she moaned.

She thought I was asleep, but I could hear my wife masturbating next to me. It wasn't the first time. It had almost become routine—after we made love and she thought I was asleep, she'd play with herself until she climaxed. Talk about a blow to a man's ego; but it wasn't as if I could get mad at her about it, considering that twenty minutes ago I lasted only about two minutes tops. My doctor suggested I offer to go down on her, but Loraine was from the old school. Only thing she wanted sniffing around down there was my dick. Regrettably, I just couldn't deliver like I used to.

To make matters all that much worse, I'd just heard her moaning the name of that son of a bitch she had been fucking while we were separated. He was the subject of many an argument in my house. Not just because he was fucking my wife, who kicked me out when I hadn't even done anything wrong, but because my wife still cared about the guy. Oh, she denied it all the time, but I don't think she'd be moaning about a guy she didn't give a shit about. I mean, hell, I was lying in the bed next to her, for Christ's sake.

The idea that she might still feel something for this guy was not a surprise. I'd already found a stash of pictures and cards she'd been hiding in her closet. Women don't keep shit like that unless they aren't ready to let go of the memories. They keep the love notes around for those times when they want to reminisce. You should have seen how pained she looked when I made her throw them out.

I lay there for a while until Loraine's breathing slowed down, and there was no more movement on her side of the bed. When she turned onto her left side, her favorite sleeping position, I curled up behind her until we were spooning. I wish I could say I drifted peacefully off to sleep, cuddled against my loving wife, but my mind just wouldn't let go of the fact that she'd cried out Michael's name. I loved my wife so much and was thankful that despite my shortcomings, she loved me too. But how much longer was she going to put up with a man who wasn't satisfying her? Especially when the other dude was apparently so good at giving her what she needed that she was still fantasizing about him?

At this point, I had two choices. I could either lie awake all night and worry, or I could be up front with Loraine. After a year in therapy with Roberta, I knew which one I had to do.

“Big Sexy, you asleep?” I shook her shoulder. There was silence for about ten seconds. She didn't even breathe, which told me she was awake, just surprised that I was also. She was probably wondering if I had heard her. I shook her again. “Loraine, you up?”

“I am now,” Loraine said groggily. “What's with you? Can't sleep?”

“That guy Michael. When was the last time you seen him?”

She didn't answer my question until I nudged her from behind. “I don't know, Leon. I told you last week it's been a while. Why?”

“I heard you next to me. You called out his name.”

“Oh, my.” She fell silent. If she hadn't already figured out that I knew about her masturbating, there could be no doubt now.

Neither one of us spoke for a long time. I lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling, wondering what was going through my wife's head. Would she try to deny that she was thinking about him? I didn't know how I would handle it if she did. I mean, the average brother would already be going off on his woman if she called out someone else's name. I almost felt like I had to cut her some slack, though, because I knew I wasn't holding things down in the bedroom. But if she tried to deny it now, I just might have to get loud. I really didn't want to. Ever since we'd gotten back together, we were both trying hard to deal with things through talking instead of yelling.

“I'm sorry, Leon.” She rolled over to face me. “I'm so embarrassed that you caught me masturbating. It's just that sometimes you finish so fa—”

I put my finger over her mouth in a hurry. No reason to hear her reminding me that I'd put in yet another minute-man performance. She hadn't exactly owned up to the fact that Michael was in her fantasy, but my ego couldn't handle the conversation if it was going to focus on me and my inadequacy.

“Look, Loraine, I know things still aren't great in that area of our marriage, but I'm working on it.”

“I know you are, baby.” She leaned in and kissed me. “And I'm so glad that you are. I know it wasn't easy for you to start seeing a therapist, but it means a lot to me that you've stuck with it. It tells me how much you care about making our marriage work.”

“I do. I really do care. It's all I want, babe, for you and me to get back to the way we were in the beginning.” I planted a kiss on her lips. “Speaking of therapy, the doctor wants me to consider trying hypnosis again. She thinks she can finally get to the root of my problem. She thinks it might have something to do with my aunt.”

Loraine sat up in the bed. “You sure? Last time she hypnotized you, you almost had a breakdown. You barely get through the dreams now. This just might make things worse.”

“Maybe, but there's a good chance it will make things better.” I took her hand. “Whatever is wrong with me, I'm going to figure it out and fix it. We've been through some very tough times together, but somewhere in this cloud there's a silver lining. I'm just asking you to be patient until I find it.”

Loraine wrapped her arms around me. “Leon, I love you more than anything in the world. I'm not going anywhere.”

I was sitting in Outback Steakhouse, sipping on a beer and checking out the menu when Freddie Coleman—or as I called him, my Thursday afternoon sponsor—walked into the restaurant. I gave him the once-over, checking him out from head to toe before I waved him over to our booth. Freddie was a short, dark-skinned man in his midthirties and was built like a brick shithouse. As always, he had a fresh cut and was meticulously dressed in a designer suit accessorized by tasteful gold and diamond jewelry. He'd made a small fortune in the computer software industry, and he wanted everyone to know it. I loved watching when he entered a room, because he reminded me of a modern-day George Jefferson. Freddie didn't walk; he strutted for everyone to see. I'd turned him out about a year ago, and we'd been meeting here at the Outback Steakhouse every Thursday afternoon since because of its close proximity to the Comfort Inn across the street.

“Jerome, how you doing, my man?” He smiled, giving me a fist bump before taking the seat across from me.

“I'm good, Freddie. Trying to keep busy. How about you? You're looking sharp as ever.”

He grinned, brushing off his sleeves. “Thanks, man. The suit's Armani. Damn thing cost me more than my house note.”

“Wow, you really balling, aren't you? Business must be good.”

“Business is good, man. Thanks for that tip about those city contracts going up for bid. I been trying to get with the city for quite a few years. Where do you be finding all this stuff out?”

I leaned in close and whispered, “If I told you, I'd have to kill you, and then who would I have sex with every Thursday afternoon?”

I ran my tongue across my lips in a mischievous smirk. As dark as he was, I could see Freddie blushing as he looked around at the people dining nearby.

“Man, you gotta stop doing that. Somebody might see you.” Like most of the men I messed with, Freddie was married and very paranoid about getting caught cheating on his wife with a man. Rumor had it he had a very jealous, very vociferous wife who loved to make a scene.

“Calm down. Nobody's going to see us. And so what if they do? Two black men can't have a business meeting in a restaurant? It's not like I'm sucking your dick for everyone to see.”

I laughed because he was blushing again. “You right, man. I just get this feeling someone has been watching me recently. And my old lady's been acting real suspicious lately—like she knows something but ain't got no proof. You know what she asked me the other day? She asked me if I'd ever slept with a man.”

I sat back in my seat. “Get the hell outta here. What'd you say?” I loved to listen to the lies these fools told their wives, trying to slide their way out of being gay. I swear, some of the shit they came up with was ingenious.

“I said to her, ‘No, I haven't. Not unless you've changed your name to Jerome.' Then I said, ‘Why? That one of your fantasies—to see me with a man'?”

We both burst out laughing. “You actually said that to her?”

“Uh-huh, I sure did.”

“Man, I swear you got a pair of balls on you.”

He leaned in and said, “You would know, wouldn't you?”

“Better than most, but maybe I should do a little more personal inspection. I think they've gotten bigger since the last time I checked,” I answered with a wink.

“Maybe you should, but before that, I got a surprise for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a box that he handed to me.

“What's this?”

“Open it and find out.”

My eyes widened when I opened it and saw a Rolex. I didn't even want to think about how much it cost. I was just praying it was real. Last time a guy gave me a Rolex, it turned out to be a knockoff.

“Wow! I don't know what to say.” I kept staring at it. This was not a cheap gift.

“Just say thanks, man.”

I tried on the watch, still a little awestruck at the extravagance of this gift. I expected to be taken care of, but this was one of the most expensive gifts I'd ever gotten in my life. He didn't know it, but he was about to get the dick sucking of his life when we got over to the hotel.

“Thanks. What did I do to deserve this?”

“A lot, but let's just call it a birthday present.”

“My birthday isn't for another few months. Is that all it's for?”

“It's for all the good things you do for me. I can't begin to tell you how much these Thursday afternoons have meant to me.” His eyes were shiny, like he might have been trying to hold back tears. “I'm just trying to repay you. You've shown me a side of myself that I've kept hidden for way too long. For once in my life, I feel like I can breathe.”

I had never seen Freddie so emotional, and while I definitely didn't love the guy, I was moved by his generosity and his sudden vulnerability. I reached across the table and took his hand. To my surprise, he didn't pull away; it was like the other people in the room had become invisible to him.

“Listen, I've already got the room key. How about if we skip lunch and get straight to dessert?”

He gave me “the look,” the one that let me know when he was ready for an afternoon of hot, steamy sex before he went back to the boring world of married life with two small children. “Man, you ain't said nothing but a word. Let's go,” Freddie agreed, squeezing my hand.

As we stood up to leave, this tall, big-boned sister came rushing at us from the front of the restaurant. I didn't know the woman, but it was pretty obvious Freddie did when he said, “Oh, shit, that's my wife.”

“I knew it! I knew! I knew you was messing with someone!” she screamed. “And it's a man! Oh my goodness, it
is
a man! Aw, hell no. I'ma kill your little black ass when I get you home!”

For all his flashiness and bravado, Freddie turned into a little bitch when his wife ran up on us. “Baby, baby, please. It's not what you think! This is just a business meeting.”

Of course, you know his wife didn't want to hear that shit. She swung her oversized Coach bag, hitting him in the head like purse-swinging was some type of new martial art and she was a seventh-degree black belt. I don't know what she had in that bag, but I could see the knot swelling up on Freddie's forehead in a matter of seconds. He looked scared to death, and he wasn't waiting for another blow to connect. In a flash, he was out. I'd never seen anyone move that fast, but believe it or not, her big ass was right on his tail.

“Baby, stop, please! Baby, baby, please,” he muttered, ducking and dodging the purse as he ran around the island of booths. “Jerome, will you please tell this woman that this is just a business meeting!”

“What you gonna do, you little sissy?” She stopped for a split second and turned to me. This woman was as tall as me and almost twice my size—and I weigh two hundred twenty pounds. The way she was looking at me and breathing all heavy like a raging bull reminded me of one of my new personal rules: Stay the hell out of other people's domestic battles; it's safer that way. I'd come to that conclusion last year after my attempts to get Loraine to leave her husband ended up with me being the bad guy, not to mention losing my job and my best friend. In this particular case, Freddie's linebacker wife was so mad I just might lose my life.

So, I glanced over at Freddie and said, “Man, I'm sorry, but you on your own.”

“That's what I thought,” she screamed, then took off after poor Freddie again. It got to the point where I just sat down in the booth again, shaking my head when I heard the people at a nearby table commenting that the two of them looked like a new version of Laurel and Hardy's comedy show.

“You think you can make a fool outta me? I don't think so!” she shouted, continuing to pound Freddie over the head. She finally grabbed pooped-out Freddie by the collar, smacking him up a few times before dragging him out of the restaurant. Damn, I'd seen ass whippings before, but that was one for the decades. I guess I wouldn't be seeing Freddie again anytime soon. Oh well, at least I still had the Rolex on my wrist.

“Why didn't you help your little friend?” I heard a familiar voice and froze. He sounded so smug and self-satisfied; I had no doubt that his presence at the scene of this fiasco was no coincidence.

I looked in the direction of the voice, wishing I was just imagining things, but there he was: my worst nightmare, the man who'd caused so much drama in my life. His name was Peter, and he was a freelance investigative reporter for most of the central Virginia newspapers. I'd turned his ass out about a year and a half ago, and he'd been stalking me ever since. I put it on his ass so good the fool packed his shit and moved out on his wife and kids to be with me.

The crazy thing is we'd had sex only once. Don't get me wrong; I had a good time with him, and this white boy was real easy on the eyes. He looked just like George Clooney, but he was talking some old crazy-love shit. He wanted us to go up to Massachusetts, where gay marriage is legal, and get married. I tried to tell him nicely that it wasn't that type of party, but he didn't want to hear it. I really think he snapped, and for the last year and a half, he'd been using his investigative skills and resources to ruin my relationships.

“You told his wife where to find us, didn't you?”

Peter nodded, looking smug as he slid into the booth to sit across from me. “You're a creature of habit, Jerome.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Let's not play stupid, all right? You know why I'm doing this. And you know how to stop it.”

“Can't you see I don't want you?”

“That's because you're not trying to want me. I told you before, if I can't have you, nobody will. I mean that, Jerome. Eventually, I'm going to be the last man on Earth when it comes to your choices in men. And we both know Tiger Woods ain't got shit on you when it comes to sexual addiction.” He laughed hard.

“You're stalking me. I'm gonna go to the police.”

“Didn't you try that once before? How did that work out for you?”

“Fuck you!” When I had gone to the police, they told me he had done nothing that I could press charges for. Either he was just a really smart stalker, or the guy had connections with the department, because those cops practically laughed me out of their precinct.

He had the audacity to pick up my beer and take a swig. “That's exactly what I want you to do. You know, if you
were
fucking me, you wouldn't have all these problems. What d'you say? I saw you go over there and get a room. Why don't we put it to good use? No need for you to waste good money.”

“Any chance you ever had is gone.” The glare I gave him was laced with so much hate that if looks really could kill, Peter would have turned to dust right there on the spot. “So leave me the fuck alone.”

“I can't leave you alone. I'm in love with you. So get used to me, 'cause I'll be around a lot more.”

I stood up to leave, and Peter threw one last question my way.

“Oh, by the way, is Freddie Big Poppa?”

Peter had been trying to figure out who Big Poppa was ever since this stupid receptionist at my former job let the cat out of the bag that someone named Big Poppa was very important to me. It was probably driving Peter's super-sleuth ass crazy that he hadn't been able to dig up anything on Big Poppa, but I'd done everything I could not to let it happen.

Living in a gated community definitely helped. The guards at the booth had a photo of Peter, with specific instructions that he was never to be let into the neighborhood. We never went out in public together, and Big Poppa let himself into my neighborhood with his own key, so it pretty much left Peter at a dead end. Still, as good as Peter had been at exposing so many of my other lovers, I knew I had to remain cautious. This was my opportunity to take Peter off the hunt for Big Poppa.

“Yes,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “You outed Big Poppa. Are you happy?”

“If you're going to lie, at least make it convincing,” he scoffed. “I'm gonna find out who he is sooner or later, Jerome. And when I do, your world is going to come crumbling down.”

My lie didn't work, so I resorted to threats. “Peter, you keep messing with me, and all you gonna do is end up dead.”

“As long as you're lying beside me, Jerome, my life will have been complete.”

I left the restaurant knowing that it was only a matter of time before I'd be hearing from Peter again.