Femme Noir (18 page)

“What do you do for a living?” I asked in amazement, speculating activist, political consultant, lobbyist.

“I’m an interior decorator,” Jack replied with a nelly accent. “Couldn’t you tell? It’s a biological imperative. I am really good, though. I tell the rich what to buy and how to arrange it. You know, most people wouldn’t even know where to put a vase without my help.” Jack curled his finger, beckoning me closer. “Sometimes I get a wild hair up my ass and want to completely ruin someone’s house. You know, like tell him that he
must
have a lime green polyester covered set of La-Z-Boys in the living room with a gallery of paintings on black velvet and a toilet paper cozy shaped like a doll wearing a ball gown, stuff like that.”

I laughed. “Well, speaking as a black person, you’re okay by me.”

“Are you the spokesperson for your people?” Jack asked wryly.

“Yeah, I won over Chris Rock by just a hair,” I said.

“Oh my God, me too! I won out over Tom Cruise. He didn’t accessorize properly.”

“You are bad.” I chuckled.

“I know. Spank me, Daddy,” Jack said.

“I’d love to, but I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh, you have another date after me? Well, that cunt is just getting sloppy seconds.”

“I know, baby,” I joked. “Listen, Jack. Thanks for the smokes. And thanks for—”

“Don’t mention it. It was a relief to tell someone. Maybe you can topple the family with the information.” Jack laughed dryly. “Though I just keep praying that the genes are weak and the dynasty is ending and crumbling on its own.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, but not just that. For loving her too.”

Jack’s eyes got shiny and he nodded, waving me away. “Get outta here, butch.”

“Later, Jack.”

“You owe me a carton of cigarettes,” Jack called. I nodded and smiled.

Chapter Seventeen

I sat in the car for a while reeling with this latest revelation. For once, I didn’t want a cigarette. I surprised myself by not feeling ready to see Max, but my clit had final word on that and it said,
go.

I drove to the house and it was dark. If I weren’t already a little drunk, I would become so at the heady notion of being summoned and parking behind Max’s car like a lover. I pulled up close enough to kiss the bumper and got out. Michelle’s car that Sloane was driving was parked next to Max’s. Seeing it gave me a shiver.

God, it had been a long day. I had lived an entire year in one day. I checked my watch. Only eight p.m. Sunset was just beginning. The air was sweet with clover and belated wisteria. I knocked on the front door. And waited. It was too dark and too quiet; maybe I should just go back to my hotel and call Max in the morning with apologies. The idea of creeping over to the exposed bedroom and spying on Max was just taking hold when I heard bare feet padding and the door opened at last.

“You got my message,” Max said flatly. She wore a white satin dressing gown and her hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. Her plump breasts peeped out of the top of her gown. My clit had been right.

“Don’t you ever wear clothes?”

“Not unless I absolutely have to. When opportunity knocks, I’ve found that it pays to answer the door naked.”

“You still opening the door for me, naked or not?”

“For you?” Max grinned. “Always. Come in.” Her white satin robe rippled as she walked into the living room. “What are you drinking? I know you’ve been drinking.”

“Uh…” I felt edgy that she would know the secret that I had only started drinking gin and tonics tonight to feel closer to her. “Um…uh…” I stammered. Max stared at me and shrugged.

“Beer, probably. Well, I’m out of beer; you’ll have what I’m having.” Ice clinked into two glasses and she made the drinks. I sighed with relief.

“I don’t want some frothy, fruity, femme drink,” I growled. I couldn’t just remain
in awe.
I had to keep my butch bearings and squeeze a little.

She handed me a glass and looked me languidly in the eye. “Yes, you do. Sit down.”

Max chose the couch and I chose it too. Max had to move a cashmere blanket to make room for me. That’s when I noticed the reading light on, a book on the side table, candles burning all over the room.

“You were
waiting
for me?” I asked, smiling hungrily.

She looked around. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped gruffly. “I know you want a cigarette.” She extended the box to me, but I was transfixed by the succulent white underside of her wrist and forearm. Oh, if I could just get the nerve to drop my drink and fall on that flesh…I would gnaw and lick and bite all the way to her underarm. Then I would pin her with her arms overhead, to the couch, as I kissed and sucked every centimeter of flesh on her chest and neck.

I wouldn’t kiss her mouth or touch her breasts. Her squealing and moaning and writhing would be enough for the moment. I would feast on her armpit; I hoped it was unshaven. I would nip her neck anytime she struggled too hard. I imagined the feel of her hands held above her head in my strong grip. I would feel her heat as she would twist and buck, possibly grinding her hips into me. I could see us: my long, lean, black body prone and her supple, curvy-rich white one. How beautiful that would look. How much better even to release her hands and stare into her eyes as we both knew what was about to happen. I would be propped on my arms, holding myself above her and feel her not fight. See her submit. Feel her luxurious thighs open to admit my angular frame and we would rest there silently, breathing together, anticipating all of it. Max would cradle me between her legs and oh, the heaven it would be to sink down into her at last. To lower myself and be met by breasts, waist, buttocks, and cunt. A cunt maddeningly close and separated only by white satin.

Would Max wear panties? I thought not, but decided the dressing gown would have slipped over her cunt, so I could take my time peeling the cloth away, savoring the fragrance, spreading…but first, I would just press my thigh hard into her, letting her gyrate on my taut leg if she wished. I had business first. With my knee planted possessively at Max’s center, I would…Would I rip her bra? No, I would suavely, slowly unhook it and close my hands over those white breasts at last. I would tease them first, stroking and pinching the nipples erect through the cloth, restraining myself until Max closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

When she pushed up against me, thrusting her breasts into the air, I would know she was ready to be naked. And I would strip her, making her shiver with my slow deliberation. Then I would fall onto her bare breasts and devour them. Her head would thrash from side to side, her arms would flail, but she would clutch me with raw need. I would suck her tiny candy nipples into swollen bells. I would feel wetness on my thigh and smile like a wolf, biting her hard to let her know who I was and that I had been here. Only when she began whimpering would I be ready to move on. Then I would put my face above hers and finally, finally,
finally
kiss her. Our lips would meet and match perfectly. Her breath would fill my lungs. We would be tender at first, exploring, nibbling, licking, smothering, then voracious. After that…

“Thank you.” I extracted a cigarette, lighting the match with my thumbnail. Max didn’t seem impressed.

“Let’s go outside, it’s so beautiful tonight.”

We walked onto the generous deck in the back. The sunset was baking the wood floor and waves rose, shimmering, up our legs. I felt toasted in every way. At least my sinuses were clear. Crisp, yellow leaves fell all around us. The corner of the deck and the lawn were piled with leaves. It gave me the strange confusion that it was autumn. I picked up a dry leaf and looked at it.

“Yeah, by this time, the trees are burned. They shrink and drop everything. Happens every summer,” Max explained, noticing my puzzlement.

“What are those?” I pointed to several dark gray shapes huddled together on the lawn as if having a conference.

“Rabbits. What did you think?”

As if to answer Max, one hopped away, flashing its white tail.

The air was blistering and wet and heavy as a blanket. Max bent and flung the cover off a hot tub. Steam rose in the air. She turned on the jets and it became a bubbling, boiling cauldron.

“Care for a soak?” Max tilted her head, her drink in one hand, the ties belting her gown shut in the other. “When the weather is like a volcano, it’s good to bathe in the lava.”

I nodded my head, smiling. Hot damn. “I’d love a soak.” Maybe it would make me feel cool and clean.

“I’ll turn the light on so you can see where to step.” Max pressed a panel and the tub lit eerily in the sticky bluing night.

I tamped out my butt. “What do I wear?” I growled, braless and removing my shirt.

“Whatever you like. As much or as little as you prefer.” Max seemed to busy herself with her back to me. But I stood tall and muscular and proud, wanting her to see. I wanted her to admire my mahogany skin, my Amazon body. I wanted her to see my silken ebony nipples and fall on them, suckling like an albino infant. I wanted Max to turn to me and say something romantic and ridiculous like, “You’re glossy, and luminous. Your dark skin barely contains a black fire that makes you glow like an opal. You are sinuous and liquidy, tall like a giraffe, but hard like a bull. Your nipples gleam like chocolate drops on your muscular chest and your tangled mat of black curly pubic hair conceals your animal slickness, but all that is mine now. I get to do whatever I want.”

But Max wasn’t turning. I dropped my shorts and underwear and stepped into the tub with a sexual groan. I placed my drink on the inset counter. Max turned, and could she have blushed? Averted her eyes?

“I see you’re in. I’ll turn off the light now. It’s nicer to stargaze once it’s full dark.”

I was comfortably settled, the jets massaging my shoulders, lower back, and feet, and I never took my eyes off Max. Let me see you naked. C’mon, I thought fiercely. It’s only a matter of time anyway…

Max set her drink next to mine and dropped her gown where it fell in a radiant heap. And there, like a goddess, a Venus, she stood. Ripe with curves and padding that smoked with sensuality. She had on a white athletic bra and huge white boxers that sagged beneath her navel and belled out ridiculously around her thighs like a skirt. Still, the girl had
stature,
I thought. If a ballerina could actually have a feminine body, it would look like this one. Max’s hair fell in fiery waves over her shoulders.

“Come on in, the water’s fine.” I swung my arms from side to side in the bubbling liquid.

Max carefully immersed a foot. She closed her eyes and arched her neck. “Ohh, yeeeeesss!” Then she slithered gracefully the rest of the way in and sat across from me where we stared at each other, smoldering. The steam that rose all around us seemed an appropriate indication of our mood.

“Kind of modest, huh?” I teased. I watched the water splash on her penned breasts. The exposed tops were like mounds of puff pastry: white, slick, and soft. Her boxers swelled and swam like bloomers.

“Not really, I just don’t know you well enough.”

I grinned, sensing I had some power now. “You’re full of it. And you knew me well enough to plan this, didn’t you?”

She might’ve smiled, but covered it by reaching for her drink and draining it.

“And that early crock of shit about you being a kept woman. What was all that? What do you do, really?”

“I write software. I create Web pages and am an all-around computer consultant.”

“Huh.” I sat back, regarding her.

Max shrugged her sparkling ivory shoulders, causing her breasts to pinch closed, then reopen. My lips ached to kiss her breastbone, smack in the center. Against the white of her bra, her skin was rosy and alive. I was swollen all over with desire pumping all through me.

“Don’t be too impressed,” Max said. “I love it so I do it. Being a high school coach—”

“College,” I corrected, laughing sharply. This girl was good.

“Yes, college coach is equally intimidating.” Max’s eyes met mine.

“I hope so.” I kept grinning.

“Oh, you have a leaf!” Her hand reached out and for one buzzing second touched me as she removed a leaf that had fallen from an overhanging tree onto my chest, near my collarbone. My hand closed around Max’s wrist firmly. With my other hand, I pushed her against the edge of the tub so she was almost on her back.

“Why don’t you let me help you with those?” My free hand floated, as if in a watery dream, down to the waving waistband of Max’s oversized boxers. She watched me, her eyes dark. My hand closed on the material and I began easing them off. I got a heart-stopping glimpse of auburn pubic fringe before Max raised her round hips and pulled the underwear back up, the shorts ballooning.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Too soon.”

I stared at her and nodded, releasing her wrist, my hunger for Max now trebled by the taboo.

“Let’s just enjoy tonight as it is,” she said, touching my foot with her own.

“I won’t be in town for long,” I grumbled.

“We’ll see.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. There she was, floating almost carelessly, taunting me with blithe trust not to ravage her. To have so much confidence that she rejected me and closed her eyes. I gritted my teeth, debating whether or not to take her in my arms and smother her with Noraness. Sloane’s words echoed in my mind: “Nigga, be a
man.
” I began my stealthy approach when Max lifted her head and stopped me with a wide-open stare.