Hold Me in Contempt (14 page)

Ronald's penis became more rigid in my mouth, and I held my breath to stop the fluttering in my tonsils. I thought of that train coming into the station at 1:25 and began to disappear into the sensations detonating in my pussy.

“
Fucking
,
bitch
,”
Ronald said
,
holding my neck in place. We caught our usual rhythm, and first my lips and then my tongue and then my tonsils and then my throat went to work. I pulled his dick past the bump at the back of my throat by tilting my head up and took him down my neck.

“
Oh shit
,
you're turning me on
,”
Kim 2 said as she played with her vagina over mine.

Ronald looked at her desirously as I gave my throat a rest by jerking him hard with my hand. His pupils rolled around in melting swirls.

“
I want to see you eat her pussy
,”
he said, dribbling
,
trying to focus in on Kim 2's mouth.

She laughed demurely
,
tilted her head to the side like a Catholic schoolgirl, and stuck her index finger into her mouth.

Since Ronald had started talking about a possible threesome with my roommate
,
I'd imagined what it might be like
:
I'd dreamed up awkwardness and shy playful touching that ended with Kim 2 running out of the room. We'd laugh and go back to our usual one-on-one knowing we'd been there and done that and could move on with our lives into forever. I'd agreed to it because I knew Ronald had a little crush on Kim 2. Why wouldn't he? She was exotic and wild and experienced. But still
,
not what he'd want in a wife. Far from it. She had no accolades behind her name. Hadn't suffered with him through law school. Won the ADA position he'd failed to win. She had bad credit and little more in the world than good looks. He wanted to fuck her and that was it. I could give him that and we could be done.

I tried to keep reminding myself of that. Kim 2 was no threat to my ascension. This was now
,
but later would be more. I tried so hard
,
but in every second of that Ecstasy-laced night there was proof that I was lying to myself. This show was on the road, and I wasn't making it to the next stop.

Kim 2 climbed off me and jerked my legs open like she'd done it many times before. Sitting in the middle of the V my legs made on the bed
,
she tickled her hands up the insides of my calves as Ronald and I looked on at the show. She was in her space. Eyes on her. Live on the runway.

She lifted my knees and pushed my ankles back
,
making little pyramids of my legs. Then, like a stretching Siamese, she rolled her breasts down to the empty space on the sheet in front of my pussy. As her lips neared my lips she was blowing and whispering at my vagina, words that turned to senseless purrs in my Ecstasy-sheltered ears. She lapped at my clitoris hungrily.

“
Your clit is hard
,”
she said, face-to-face with my pussy. “Let's see if she's wet
.”
She looked up at Ronald before pulling her right index finger from beneath my legs and slipping it into my vagina, where she danced her pad from a hook to an arrow like she was beckoning something within me.

My legs and my lips opened wider.

“
Yeah
,
she's wet
,”
she confirmed to Ronald, and then she disappeared beneath my curly mound and became only sensations I couldn't see, and then I was riven
,
wide and flowing. Cake on a plate.

I'd lost focus
,
falling back into the bed and closing my eyes, going to a black space with explosions of red and violet beneath my eyelids. Kim 2's mouth was steady, sucking me hard, but I still heard her whispering into me. I heard more utterances of pleasure and recognized the voice as my own.

When I opened my eyes
,
Ronald was standing in front of me at the foot of the bed. His head was hanging back and his chin pointed at the ceiling. His chest was rocking to me and away in short
,
rhythmic taps. His arms were stretched forward and hanging low to where I couldn't see his hands because of how flat my head was on the bed.

Then I felt rocking between my thighs, and the whispering I'd heard inside of me became heavy panting and moaning in desirous agony.

I pushed back up on my elbows to find Ronald's fingers and discover what had become of Kim 2 between my thighs.

Gradually, as I came up
,
I saw my boyfriend's lower arms
,
wrists, and then hands spread apart on either side of Kim 2's ass as he bucked into her so hard she screamed.

In and out my boyfriend went, and Kim 2's screams got louder and more thunderous
,
like something great was swelling inside of her and this was the preamble of what was to come.

She wrapped her hands up around my legs to hold herself in place and leverage her weight, and I felt her push back into his dick.

“
Fuck this pussy. Fuck it hard!” she directed him with such force, it was nearly demonic.

Ronald looked down at me with no expression and bucked hard and hard and hard and hard at her ass, and she stayed right in position.

“
Yes
,
give me that good dick. You know how I like it
,”
she let out in breathy syllables.

Clouds parted in my mind and opened, and the significance of those words would forever haunt me.

But Ronald kept bucking and my roommate held tighter to my legs, and soon her nails were digging into my flesh like razor blades.

“
Kim! Kim!” Ronald cried, flushing deeply. He was calling my name. Twice each time. Two times. Two. “Kim! Kim!”

I looked at Kim 2 and she was looking at me too. Her Asian eyes pierced through me.

“
Ronald
,”
she called, staring at me. “Cum inside of me right now. I want to feel it again. Let me feel it.”

He bucked and shook the entire bed again and again, and soon the red left his body.

Chapter 6

I
woke up on the couch in my apartment unsure if I'd dreamed of Ronald's birthday wish with Kim 2 that night at his place or had actually relived it. I had to recall my entire day beginning with Dr. Davis's office and then continuing with Paul and Easter and Chief Elliot in my office, the black cabbie, and King in platinum rolling beside me to remember where I really was. And it wasn't actually an upgrade when I did remember. Nearly fired? Everything but accused of overusing my pain medication by a doctor who really wanted to get into my pants? A mess. I wanted to go back to sleep for a really long time, even if it meant seeing Kim 2 and Ronald fuck raw right in front of me. Maybe I could try to change some things the second time around.

My cell phone started rattling on the coffee table, so I rolled over, taking my eyes from the ceiling, and saw from the direction of the light coming in the window that a lot of time had passed since I'd knocked out.

I reached for the phone and looked hard at the empty bottle of Jameson beside it. On the floor, the glass I'd been drinking out of had been shattered to diamond pebbles.

I wondered if maybe the guy downstairs had been playing his loud music again while I was sleeping and it had caused the glass to fall off the table. Maybe the bottle had fallen too and that was why it was empty. I'd only had two glasses. No way I drank that much. But how did the bottle get back onto the table? I looked at the floor. Where was the liquor? Maybe I'd gotten up in the middle of my nap and cleaned it up and placed the bottle back on the table. I tried to remember these events, but they were fuzzy. I'd call the apartment manager in the morning to complain about the guy downstairs. He'd led to the demise of so many of my glasses, I needed to send him an invoice.

The phone rattled again before I could open it to see that there were three text messages from Tamika:

MIKMIK (1:32 p.m.): Hey, KK. Miles will be a little late getting out of practice today, so no rush. Like 4:00pm will work. I know that time sucks for you, but thanks for agreeing to help me out . . .  ​and spend time with your godson!

MIKMIK (3:37 p.m.): I tried to call you twice. I called your office and your secretary said you were out for the day. Guess you're on the subway headed to Brooklyn now. I'm about to go into the fashion show. They're taking our phones. I'll call you when I get out. Make sure Miles doesn't eat too much. And no fried rice from that greasy-ass Chinese spot on the corner. Thanks again.

MIKMIK (3:40 p.m.): OK. Last message . . .  ​I promise. I know you hate it when I send these long-ass texts. But don't let Miles go to that park across the street from the community center today. There was a shooting out there last night and you know how things have been going with those gangs on the basketball courts. I know there will be retaliation. Don't want my little prince caught up in their bullshit. OK . . .  ​that's all. Walking into the show now. BABUY!

I looked at the texts and tried to recall what she was talking about. Pick up Miles? I hadn't agreed to that. The last time I saw her we'd been at Damaged Goods and I walked out because she'd pissed me off. Maybe she thought she was texting Leah. I read through the messages again and saw that she was addressing KK, so that wasn't it. And I knew she wasn't asking Kent to pick Miles up from fencing. Pick Miles up from fencing? We'd talked at the bar about me spending more time with Miles. I remembered something about a fashion show. Tamika's walking out of Damaged Goods with me, insisting she help me into a cab. But I told her I was fine. She'd walked me out? I agreed to pick up Miles? Was it Thursday already? Had I agreed to Thursday? I read the messages again and remembered the conversation outside of Damaged Goods.

“Shit!” I jumped up ready to act, but my foot landed in the pile of broken glass and I screamed “Shit!” again. I hopped away from the table and balanced on my left foot, so I could pull the other one up and inspect the damage. Luckily, there was just pain, but no glass or cuts.

By the time I slid on my shoes and hopped to the elevator and down into a cab, it was already four o'clock. It would be at least thirty minutes before I was even in Brooklyn fighting against traffic and red lights. Miles would probably know to wait for me that long, so I sat back and looked at the clock on the dashboard, counting down seconds and saying to myself that he would know what to do. He had to.

At four fifteen the cab was being held up at a red light three blocks from the bridge and I was thinking that taking the train would've been a better idea. I started counting minutes again to relax, and I swear, like, ten passed at that one light. We were at the mouth of the bridge into Brooklyn at four thirty, and I was trying to give the cabbie directions to get there sooner. Times like that I wished Tamika wasn't so strict and had let Miles get a cell phone. But each year since he was seven, when I'd tried to get him one for Christmas, she'd say, “I didn't have a phone and I survived Harlem. He doesn't need a phone to survive Brooklyn.” Good point then. But terribly inconvenient now.

At 4:45 I tried calling Leah to see if she could get Miles, but she didn't answer, and then I remembered that she'd gone to Atlantic City with her girlfriend.

“Come on, you can go faster,” I said to the driver when we were three blocks away and it was five o'clock.

“It's rush hour,” he said in his thick African accent. “We get there fast, mizz.”

I opened the window and poked my head out of the moving car like that would somehow send telepathic signals to Miles letting him know I was almost there and to wait for me before he decided to walk home on his own or do whatever kids did when someone was over an hour late to pick them up—it was 5:05. I could never forgive myself if anything happened . . .  ​not to mention Tamika would kill me.

I looked up at the sky. Clouds were swirling, and even though it was late May, a kind of winter darkness was settling in overhead. Maybe a storm was coming.

I started shaking and counted the blocks again and realized we hadn't moved.

“I have to get there!” I said to the cabbie, but he didn't even nod. It was like he couldn't hear me. “I am in a rush! Drive!” My back started aching and I had a sick feeling in my gut, and that's when I heard that familiar, unmistakable sound that echoes in the heart of anyone who's ever lived in a place where violence is expected: a gunshot.

“Miles!” I'd screamed this three times before I realized I was out of that cab and running toward the community center. “Miles!”