Single Husbands Page 19

  His eyes didn’t blink as he watched her hold the stick in the flow of her urine. Taking the stick from her, Lexington focused his eyes, awaiting the results. Slowly he stared at her.

  “What? What? What is it?” Nikki asked, snatching the stick from him.

  Lexington exhaled. “It’s positive,” he said.

  “What’s positive?” Venus and Herschel asked, standing in the doorway.

  Nikki tossed the stick in the toilet, then quickly flushed.

  CHAPTER 21

  Brian

  Summertime was a great time to stroll along South Beach. Visitors and natives alike strolled, seemingly in search of serenity. Reclining in a white plastic beach chaise, Brian glanced but didn’t stare at the topless, light-skinned women bathing in the sun. A tan wasn’t always a good thing. Skin cancer and excessive pigmentation were bad.

  Interlocking his fingers behind his head, Brian wondered, how was he going to keep Carmelita and Zahra from contacting Michelle? How did Carmelita get his wife’s number?

  Brian considered lying to his wife and saying, “Baby, I don’t know no Carmelita.” In part, that was true.

  He had refused to give Carmelita $10,000. Thinking back, he realized he should’ve negotiated paying her something. But giving her money was no guarantee she wouldn’t call Michelle. He feared Carmelita would call his wife at some point. Why didn’t he get her phone number? He desperately wanted to call that slimy, scamming, no-good Latina chick, but he couldn’t. Probably best. Now he’d have to wait for her to make the next move. For how long?

  Brian watched the waves pushing white sand upon the shore. What if she demanded some ridiculous amount of money? More than $10,000. What if she claimed she was having his baby? Either would dissolve his marriage if Michelle found out. There was no way Carmelita could be pregnant by him from a one-night stand. Could she? What was wrong with women? Were women that desperate for money that they’d selfishly ruin a good man’s life and his marriage?

  Brian glanced at his phone. No missed calls. That Carmelita chick still hadn’t called him. Why? Reclining his head, Brian closed his eyes. His marriage was perfect. Would Michelle abandon a perfect marriage or stand by him? How deep and how long would his wife hurt if he confessed before Zahra or Carmelita contacted her?

  The melody of “You Are So Beautiful” resounded from his cell phone, startling him.

  “He-ey. Hey, baby. How are you?” Brian asked.

  “I’m okay. What’s wrong with you?” Michelle asked. “I hear trepidation in your voice. Don’t tell me Marcus Monty signed with someone else?”

  “No, naw. I have a good chance. He’s narrowed it down to me or Brandon, saying he’d call me when he decided. I just dozed off and the phone woke me up by surprise. What’s up?” he asked, eyeing a woman in a thong. The string had disappeared into the crack of her creamy behind.

  Keep your mind off women! You’ve got enough females dogging you.

  “I need you to come home first thing in the morning. We need to talk before I leave,” Michelle said.

  Sitting up, Brian’s voice trembled. “I’m on my way.”

  “You don’t have to come home early. I have a few things to sort out, and the extra day will give me time.”

  Nervously Brian replied, “Oh, okay.”

  He’d made it back to South Beach earlier today but wasn’t quite ready to take the ten-minute drive home. His driver was parked in front of the hotel. Not knowing Michelle’s intentions, he’d wait until tomorrow—after he cleared his conscience and rehearsed his lies.

  His eyes widened as he thought, Ou, shit. She’s beautiful. Brian drifted into a fantasy of fucking her on the beach. Massaging his dick, he stared at the camel-toe imprint of her pussy. Why were women so fucking irresistible? Down. Damn. Down.

  His dickhead crept along his thigh toward his knee. Brian wanted to come. He needed to fuck somebody. Brian exhaled, wondering, Am I a sex addict? After that shit with Zahra and Carmelita, I should be through fucking around. I should make an appointment. Have myself checked out. Maybe telling the truth, then asking Michelle for forgiveness, better than seeing a sex therapist. Not a good idea at all, though, if she finds out about my golfing trip to Atlanta.

  “I’ll call you back later,” Michelle said.

  Aw, damn. He’d forgotten she was on the phone. Scratching his bald head, Brian asked, “Are the kids okay? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Brian prayed to God that Carmelita hadn’t called his wife.

  “No worries. Right? I’ll talk to you when you get here. Bye,” Michelle said, ending the call. She’d never abruptly hung up on him with an attitude.

  A woman dressed in a black tank top and white pants stopped, then asked him, “You okay?”

  Brian nodded, thought, Get your pussy out of my face, then said, “Thanks.”

  “I can tell something is bothering you. You look like you could use a secret friend,” she merrily said, smiling at him. “You know, it always helps me to talk things through with nice strangers. They don’t know me. I don’t know them. It’s not at all like secret shopping or dining, where you wait for the person to make a mistake so you can rate them. My being your secret friend, you can say whatever is on your mind. Drink?” she asked, pointing toward the poolside bar. “I could use a stiff one myself.”

  Arching his foot, Brian’s knee bounced rapidly. Why not? he thought. They were outdoors on the beach surrounded by strangers. Maybe talking to her would help him to get his lies straight.

  Brian phoned his driver, then said, “You can leave. I’m going to stay here tonight.”

  “Certainly. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” the driver asked.

  “I’ll call in the morning, if I need you. Bye.” Brian ended the call, ordered his favorite drink, then motioned to the strange woman to order her drink.

  “A strawberry colada, with an extra shot of rum, please,” she said. “What’s your name?” she asked, then immediately said, “Don’t answer that. If you tell me, then you won’t be a secret friend anymore. Have you ever made love on the beach in the middle of the night with the salty ocean breeze caressing your naked body?” she asked.

  She’d managed to divert his attention to her. Brian tried imagining her naked. Watching her lips made his dick hard. “Sounds crazy, but actually, no, I haven’t,” Brian answered. “Have you?”

  “No, but I’d like to,” she said, licking the cherry. “What’s bothering you?”

  “No need to discuss it. Whatever it is, it is. Just having someone to talk to is good enough for me,” he said, placing $30 on the bar. “Let’s sit outside by the pool.”

  He led her beside the pool and he sat sideways on a lounge chair opposite hers, gazing up at the sky. The moon was half full. Stars bright. He sat confessing his dilemma to an attractive woman he’d rather fuck than talk to. Coming would temporarily take his mind off trying to figure out what Michelle had to say. Each wave gradually washed away the lavender and rose-colored sunshine. The darkness softly swished upon the sand, until he no longer saw the beach. With his sense of sight limited, his hearing became more keen as he listened to the waves softly crashing ashore, one behind the other. Just as daylight traded places with the moonlight, so could his life change drastically in one day.

  Reaching for his phone, Brian said, “I need to take this,” answering, “Hey, Marcus, what’s up? Great hearing from you.”

  “You in,” Marcus said.

  “No shit?”

  “I want you to represent me, B. I need you on the first plane back to Houston tomorrow, man. We need to talk face-to-face. Call me when you get in. Later,” Marcus said, ending their call.

  The woman positioned herself closer, sat on the edge of his chair, placed his legs across her lap, then began massaging his feet. She kneaded his arch. “Whoever it was, I’m glad to see they cheered you up. When was the last time you had a reflexology massage?” she asked.

  “That’s fucking great!” Brian yelled, smiling until his jaws ach
ed. “That feels great,” Brian said, downing his drink. Whatever she’d done to his feet made him hella sleepy superquick. Moaning, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing into a comfortable, much-needed sleep, Brian mumbled, “I got the big contract.”

  Slowly she unzipped his pants, taking him into her mouth. She sucked his dick, then licked his shaft from the base to the ridge, then sucked his head again. She licked him again. The wetness of her tongue, the softness of her mouth, made his dick harden, growing toward her throat.

  “Relax,” she said. “You’ll be more comfortable if you remove your clothes. No one can see us out here now. They’re gone and it’s way too dark.”

  Helping him remove his shirt, then his pants and underwear, she placed his belongings on the lounge chair next to her purse.

  “Huh, what? We shouldn’t be doing this out . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Relax. Stop worrying. Whatever is done cannot be undone. Fixed, yes. Forgiven, yes. Undone, no,” she said, kissing his clipper-shaven pubic area.

  Brian’s eyes grew heavy as he dozed into a light snore, with his dick in her mouth, believing Michelle would forgive him if she ever found out about his affairs. Why shouldn’t she? He was a loving husband. Wonderful father. Could-do-no-wrong son. Drifting into his subconscious, Brian wondered how his mother would feel if she found out, after all of her years of being married to his dad, that his dad had had numerous affairs?

  Brian didn’t know which felt better: being half-asleep having his dick sucked or his feet massaged. Fluttering his eyes toward the rising sun, he’d peacefully slept the night away with a complete stranger in his arms.

  “Wake up. Wake up,” he’d heard a voice say.

  Widening his eyes, Brian slowly sat on the side of his lounge chair.

  The naked woman beside him tapped his leg, asking, “What in the hell happened last night?”

  Squinting to diminish the blinding sun from hurting his eyes, he asked, “Damn, it’s daylight. Where in the hell am I?” Then he said, “Aw, hell no. Where in the fuck are my clothes?” He covered his dick with his hands. He stared up at a woman who looked down at him. She seemed detached from the fact that he and the woman with him were completely nude publicly.

  Brian raced around the pool with his dick flopping in the air in search of his clothes. Maybe they’d fallen over the rail, he thought, leaning to see if he saw anything that resembled clothes or a purse lodged in the sand. Fuck! His phone. His wallet. His driver’s license. Credit cards. All gone.

  “Fuck!” Brian yelled.

  The woman with him held her palms against her ears in disbelief. “Where’s my purse? My phone? My money? This is all your fault,” she cried.

  This could not be happening to him. Where were his pants? Who would want them? Fuck! His house and car keys were gone too. He could get spares if he didn’t get arrested. Brian walked over to the woman leaning against the rail that overlooked the pool and asked, “Did you see someone down here?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “About a half hour ago. It was too dark to see his face. He had on long shorts, no shirt.”

  Fuck! How was Brian going to get home? Even when he got home, how was Brian going to explain to Michelle he was robbed of everything, including his drawers?

  CHAPTER 22

  Herschel

  Kiss me,” Nikki said, rolling over and facing her husband.

  Herschel stared in disbelief, looking over his shoulder for someone else to respond. He’d tossed all night wondering if Nikki had confirmed Lexington’s inquiry when he’d said Donna was positive that she’d caught him getting fucked in the ass by Anthony. Fearing his boy would hear the truth was enough information for Herschel to abandon the conversation between Lexington and Nikki in their bathroom.

  Nikki awakened, begging, “Baby, I miss you. Give me a kiss.”

  Herschel froze. What was Nikki up to? Why did Lexington have to tell Nikki what Donna had said? What did Donna want when she showed up at his back door unannounced?

  “You don’t care about my being bisexual?” Herschel asked.

  “Are you going to make me ask again? Kiss me,” Nikki said, straddling her pussy across his dick.

  He wasn’t feeling up to doing Nikki. She made more money, but she didn’t own his dick. “What’s gotten into you? Too many of those alcohol-injected honeydew pussy poppers?” he asked jokingly. His dick remained soft and spongy. “You hung out all night with Venus, now you want me to do you? I’m tired too.”

  “I should start strapping-on and doing you,” Nikki said, implying more of a statement than a question.

  Nikki eased her middle and ring fingers into his mouth. What if he bit her fingers the way she’d done him? She saturated her fingers with his saliva, then massaged her clit. “Aw, yeah. This feels so fucking great. Herschel, fuck me,” she insisted, taking control of his dick. “You do use condoms with Anthony, right?”

  Nodding, Herschel forced what little blood she had mustered into his shaft toward his head. Nikki squeezed his dick firm, then sat on him. A low, close ride of her hips against his pubic hairs and his dick engaged his brain. Blood filled his shaft. As disappointed as he was with his wife, she obviously didn’t care about his life with Anthony. She bounced her pussy like it was on a pogo stick, making him come quickly.

  “Damn, you feel good, baby,” Herschel lied.

  “I’m giving you my best pussy at sunrise on the day that I’m in heat and ovulating, and all you can say is ‘I feel good, baby’ when I’m trying to give you a baby?’”

  Herschel’s forehead buckled. “A what?”

  “A baby. I’m ready for us to have one,” Nikki said. “And if we’re lucky, we’re pregnant.”

  “What do you want from me? You come in here—what, four hours ago?—ease into the bed, wake me up at the crack of dawn, fuck me, because what? Is this your way of patronizing me with the possibility of us having a baby, when I’ve been asking you to have my child for years? Does everything in our marriage have to be done your damn way, all the fucking time?” Herschel asked, easing from underneath Nikki.

  “I don’t want anything from you, Herschel. Nothing. Not a damn thing. You can go be with Anthony and I can raise our baby by myself.”

  “Then do that!” Herschel yelled, making his way to the bathroom. He hated the fact that Nikki knew about Anthony and she was cool with that shit. He wanted her to get mad. Get angry. He needed a reason to stop loving Anthony—not a reason to love him more.

  Nikki ranted and all Herschel heard was Donna’s voice: “You two faggots!”

  “Faggot” was such a degrading word. Herschel wanted to stuff a thousand bars of soap in Donna’s mouth and make her apologize until they were tired of hearing her voice. Now she had Lexington believing her. No more single husbands threesomes for Herschel. Lexington was not inviting Herschel to hang with him and Brian again.

  Attempting not to look obvious, Nikki hurried by him to close the bathroom door before he made it inside with her. He was too slow. Shifting his thoughts, he was thankful for the alone time.

  “Fine, you go ahead and use the bathroom. I’ll wait out here until you’re done,” Herschel said, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in the palms of his hands. Herschel exhaled, thinking, Another baby. This one would be different. Special. Born with a silver spoon in its mouth. Even the baby wouldn’t need me for much.

  His dick hardened. Not for sex. For a much needed piss. Herschel toured areas of his home that they never used. Entering the baby’s nursery, he glanced at the pink-blue-yellow-and-green wallpaper border neatly pasted beneath the crown molding. Wow, a baby with Nikki. That might be cool if she let him make some of the decisions.

  The throb of his dick reminded him he had to piss. “My daughter won’t mind if I use her bathroom,” Herschel said, growing fonder of the idea of him and Nikki having a baby. Maybe having a baby girl would renew their relationship. As long as he didn’t have another gay son, Herschel would do all the things for N
ikki that he regrettably hadn’t done for Ivory. He’d massage Nikki’s stomach every day she was home. Rub her feet. Wash her hair in the shower—the way his boy Brian bragged about doing it for Michelle. Herschel wanted Nikki and him to have the kind of love Brian and Michelle shared. The kind of love that money couldn’t buy or barter.

  Lifting the toilet seat, Herschel decided today he’d break up with Ivory and Anthony and give his wife a real chance to get to know him. She already knew about Ivory and Kwan.

  He squeezed his dick from the base to the head and watched the last few drops of urine plop into the toilet. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he admired his body. Chocolate cheekbones squaring off into his neatly trimmed goatee. He rubbed the hairs on his dark chest and roller-coaster abs. His big dick couldn’t help but to hang low. Herschel nodded with approval, hoping for a girl.

  Turning on the warm water, Herschel washed his hands, ripping a pale green paper towel from the roll. Nikki had told him green was the best neutral color for babies. He tossed the wet paper into the trash, and it fell to the side. Herschel stooped, picked it up, then froze in disbelief, dropping the content in the trash can.

  “Damn, that bitch has fucked me again.”

  Herschel left the nursery, returning to the bedroom where his wife was snuggled underneath the covers, asleep. Snatching the sheet from her body, Herschel stared at her.

  Quickly rising from the pillow, Nikki said, “Herschel, what’s wrong with you? I thought you had left.”

  “Lay down,” Herschel insisted.

  Placing his palms in the arch of her thighs, Herschel spread her labia. He scanned to see what he could find. He licked to see what he could taste. Inserting his middle finger, he desperately probed to see what he could feel. Something had to feel different inside his wife. He had proof in the other bathroom that another man had made love to his wife, but her pussy was covering for her.