Red Light Special (12 page)

The cool evening air blew into Monday’s mahogany face, and her hair whipped along the sides of her cheeks as she rode through Harlem, thinking, sightseeing, and appreciating its beauty.

Monday pulled into the parking lot of Eunice’s, a small diner that she and Kenyatta frequented when they first moved to New York. Gladys Knight and the Pips’ “Midnight Train to Georgia” played over the sound system as the waitress asked her, “How are you today, Mrs. Smith?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you here.”

Monday smiled. She hadn’t heard that in a while. “Thank you.”

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“A cold Uptown please.”

“You got it.” The waitress left the table and Monday heard her say, “Hey, Mehki, your order is at the counter.”

Monday quickly turned around. His back was facing her.

“Working late?” The waitress asked him as she stepped behind the register and rang up his total.

“Yeah.” He smiled, “You know how it is, a black man’s work is never done.”

The waitress blushed, “Especially one who works as hard as you.”

Monday smirked. She wasn’t sure if she was pissed that the waitress was flirting with him or that he seemed to be enjoying it. She did what she could to suppress the jealousy that crept into her chest, besides—no matter how fine he was and how much her pussy ached and her nipples hardened at the sight of him—she was married—but then again, what the fuck did that mean?

She watched Mehki grab the white plastic bag, which contained his food and had
THANK YOU
written in red letters across it. He winked his eye at the waitress and turned toward the door.

As he left and the door swung behind him, his silk tie hung loosely around his neck and the cuffs of his starched sage shirt were flipped up to his elbows. The beautifully dark waves in his hair spun like a charismatic rhythm, while the sexiness of his body always spoke for itself.

He crossed the street and walked into a tall and all brick office building with floor to ceiling windows, black metal railings, a copper awning above the door, and an all glass entrance, which read in gold script:
DAVIS, PARKER, AND LASSITER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW.

Damn,
Monday thought as she immediately became torn between being Kenyatta’s faithful yet neglected wife or fulfilling an aching and ambiguous yearning for something different than her marriage and the man she chose. It’s not that she didn’t love her husband or want to make her marriage work, but given all the things that had been happening, she wondered what was she really working for. And the more Kenyatta did things that made her question why she loved him, and the more he lied and continued to lie, the more disrespectful he became, and the more he disregarded her, the more she wanted to test the waters and see…if just maybe…this pretty motherfucker, Mehki, was exactly who his swagger represented him to be.

“Anything else?” the waitress said, cutting through her thoughts and placing her drink on the table.

“No, thank you.” Monday said, never taking her eyes from the building, “This is fine.” She wrapped her fingers around the cold glass and the melting frost moistened her palms and slid over her fingers. Monday held the rim of the glass to her chin, wondering if she had anything more to lose than her curiosity. Deciding that at least at this moment she didn’t, she placed ten dollars on the table and left.

A few moments later she was standing in front of a dark mahogany door with a gleaming silver and engraved nameplate that read,
MEHKI DAVIS
, E
SQ
.

Monday sucked in her stomach and tugged a little at the hem of her teal strapless dress that gathered slightly around the breasts and had a midthigh pencil skirt that rode her hips just right. Her four-inch Manolos made her apple bottom look beyond ripe. She held her matching trench coat in the crux of her right arm and her petite Chanel purse in the palm of her left hand.

She knocked lightly on the door at first and then a little harder.

“Good night, Helen.” Mehki yelled from behind the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Monday knocked again.

“I know,” he said, “I won’t be here all night, and yes,” he laughed, “I have something good to eat.”

“Is it as good as me?” Monday twisted the knob and opened the door.

“Damn,” a sexy and surprised smile lit up Mehki’s face as the setting sun glowed behind him. “That all depends,” he took his rimless glasses off and placed them on his desk. “If I ever have the pleasure of being reminded again.” He took a drag from the cigar which hung from the corner of his mouth and released the smoke from his lips in slow motion.

“Mmmm, perhaps.” Monday rested her coat and purse in the chair by the door while she threw a dash more of motion in her ocean. She walked over to his large cherrywood desk and sat on the corner. She crossed her thick thighs, turned to face him, and slid the cigar he smoked from the corner of his mouth and into hers. She took a pull. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”

Mehki rose from his seat, locked his office door, and then he rolled his burgundy leather wing chair directly in front of her, laid back, and watched as she took a toke from the cigar and the smoke snaked from between her glistening MAC covered lips.

“Really?” His eyes combed her smooth and beautifully brown legs. He ran his hands over her shins and up her thighs, “Is that so?”

She held the cigar between her fingers like a cigarette, “Of course that’s so.”

“And why is that?” He took the cigar from between her fingers, took a pull, and mashed it into the marble ashtray.

“Because.” Monday lifted the tie from around his neck, “I have.” She began unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands over his defined chest, caressing his nipples, straddling his lap, and gyrating her hips across the monstrous mountain in his pants.

He looked her dead in the eyes, “You know I’ve missed you over the years.”

A surge of chills ran up Monday’s legs and hung out in her chest; she backed up and he pulled her toward him. “But I need you to tell me what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be here.” She drew her face into his and he kissed her as if he’d been desiring this kiss forever, yet in the midst of it, he stopped, “Wait a minute.”

“Why did you stop?” she asked, taken aback.

“Because, I need to know what you’re doing here?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because I want to know. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation, especially after all these years?”

“If you want me to leave,” she backed up and again he pulled her toward him, “I can go. I just thought that maybe,” she playfully bit his chin, “I would show you that I wanted some of this.” She moved her hips.

“Monday, you wanting to fuck me is nothing new.” He cupped her breasts and massaged his thumbs into her hard nipples, “As a matter of fact, every time you see me, you wanna make love to me. And I wanna make love to you. But not until today have you ever come on this strong, and now you expect me to believe that it’s only because you’ve been thinking about me? Come on, Monday, it’s me.”

“So…what…you don’t want any?”

“Oh, I want all of it, you can believe that,” he caressed her thighs and kissed her lips. “But first I need to understand why you’re giving it to me.”

“It’s an affair.”

“An affair is a series of fucks that happen more than once, is that what you want? Or you wanna get turned out for a night and then sent home?”

Monday hesitated. She didn’t know, she hadn’t thought beyond right now. All she knew is that at this moment she needed him. She caressed the sides of his face and knew that despite what they’d been through he could be trusted with her innermost secrets. She knew he was well aware of Kenyatta and probably knew more about him than she did, but still she wasn’t sure if she wanted only a little bit or more. “I don’t have an answer to that. What do you want?”

“To give you whatever it is you need.”

Monday was taken aback. “Why would you want to do that? Even after what I did to you.”

“Monday, don’t you know that I know you, that I knew you and I knew you felt like you had to get away? The only thing is, I knew you were running from yourself, but you didn’t.”

“I tried, but it didn’t work.”

“Because it’s like trying to outrun the sky, you can’t do it.”

“But I just…” she paused, “I just want to so bad.”

“Why do you still want to do that?”

“Because of the situation I’m in. I’m just tired of being lied to.”

“I know you are, that’s why I want you to be honest with me. And tell me what you need.”

“I just need to be held right now.”

He placed his arms around her waist and she moved in closer to his chest. “And right now…” she whispered while caressing one side of his face, sucking his earlobe, and placing soft kisses along the side of his neck, “I just want you to make love to me.”

Mehki reached behind her and unzipped her dress, the top portion falling over her perfectly round and erect breasts. “Damn, they’re beautiful.” He took her breasts squeezed and slid them between his lips, where he alternated kisses, sucks, tugs, pulls, and pops.

Monday closed her eyes. She enjoyed listening to the rhythm of his mouth moving forcefully, yet graciously across her nickel-sized nipples. Monday was sure when Mehki was done her breasts would be swollen. He laid her back on the desk and slid her dress completely off. Standing over her he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She sat up and unbuckled his pants, “Yes.”

Monday kissed him all over his body as he undressed. Once his clothes were removed she straddled him. “Damn, this a big dick.” She rotated her hips.

“That’s why you wanted it.”

“I promise I won’t leave you again.”

“You will, which is why this time, we’re going to be friends with benefits.”

“Mehki…”

“Why you start talking so much when we’re trying to fuck.” He stood up and laid her back on the desk. He stroked her twice, pulled out, and entered her again. He continued to repeat the process, leaving her mind spent. Every time he opened her up she felt a surge of wind invade her body and send pricks through her skin. Yet, she loved every bit of it, especially the teasing game that he was playing.

Mehki stood back and watched her lava run between her thighs. He rubbed his dick in it and then entered her again, this time not stopping.

After a few minutes of their rekindled rhythm, each of them recalling how the other liked for them to move, Mehki crossed Monday’s legs Indian style across his chest, as his dick ran a marathon between her lower lips.

Monday screamed as he whipped his hips like a tornado’s wind. He held her legs back over her head, opening her up completely, knocking her walls back and erotically carving her pussy into the shape that he wanted it in. “If you fuck Kenyatta after this,” he stroked, “he gon’ know I been here.” He flipped her to the side.

“Mehki.” Monday’s head tossed and turned, “Damn this feels so good. Shit.” She turned over, he lifted her from his desk and bounced her on his dick.

BAM! A forceful knock beat against the door while the locked knob twisted, “Mehki, I saw your car outside, it’s Kenyatta. I need to speak to you, it’s important.” He twisted the locked knob again, “Open up.”

Monday’s heart sank in her chest as Mehki placed Monday on the desk, but instead of stopping like she thought he would, he flipped her over and continued fucking her. She turned her head to the side, “What if he hears us?”

“If you stop screaming he won’t.”

“Maybe you should get that. Maybe I should hide.”

“He gon’ wait until I’m done fucking you.” Mekhi resumed his strokes, “Kenyatta, I’m on a call, can it wait until the morning?”

“No, I need to speak to you right now.”

“You’ll…” Mehki stroked while his eyes were half-staff, “…have…to wait.”

“Ai’ight man. I’ll be right here.”

Mehki flipped Monday back over to face him and pulled her onto his lap while he sat in the chair, “I don’t want you to ever feel unworthy again.”

She looked him in the eyes, “I won’t.”

“Anything you need I got it.”

“Don’t make me promises. Just show me.” She began to pant as his chest started to heave. Both of their pelvises contracted, and while he shot his love into her like Cupid’s arrow, she rained hers onto him.

“Damn,” she sighed, breathing heavy, “I don’t want this to end. I swear I want some more.”

With Monday still on his lap, Mehki grabbed his pants and handed her his apartment keys. “1153 Lenox, apartment 13C, meet me there.”

She looked at him seriously, “And how am I going to get out of here?”

Mehki smiled, “That’s what back doors are for.”

DOWN LOW WITH FLATS ON

She sat on the fire escape, the late October breeze ruffling the white nylon of her see-through negligee. The rusted metal felt cold on the back of her thighs, and the persistent wind blew loose strands of her hair directly into the low O’s of smoke she eased from the center of her dry mouth.

She could hear the baby crying as her eyes burned. Yet she fought with all she had to keep them open, wondering why Kenyatta had lied yet again. The more he lied, the more unraveled she became.

And it wasn’t so much his fucking her that kept her going as it was his scent…his voice…his hands…his swagger…his full lips that curled when he laughed. It was him. Just being in his presence turned her on. It didn’t matter that he said they needed space—whatever the fuck that was—or that things between them were pretty much over. What mattered is he kept coming around, calling her, fucking her, laughing with her, pacifying her, and agreeing that things would get better. He continued to be her shoulder to lean on. So as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed.

So where was he? And why wasn’t he answering his phone or returning any of her voice messages…or apologizing for making her feel like a whole new level of shit? She’d had his baby, and she’d gotten rid of Eve; nevertheless, none of that was enough.

She sniffed and sucked the butt of her cigarette like a stick of weed. “He thinks that I’m a fuckin’ joke.” She flicked away the loose snot that ran from her nose. “Like I’m some sorta game. Like my feelings ain’t shit.” She stood up and spoke into the wind, the fire escape rattling as she paced. “Like he doesn’t remember chasing me the fuck around…banging down my door…promising me what the fuck he would do for me. ‘I love you, it’s gon’ be me and you. Just trust me…let your guard down. I know you may have been hurt in the past, but this is me.’” She poked herself in the chest, the ashes from her burning cigarette falling at her feet.

“And now all of a sudden”—she waved her hand as if she were pulling a rabbit from a hat—“he doesn’t want me?” She wiped the blinding tears from her eyes. “Now all of a sudden he flexin’?” She paced, her bare feet feeling numb against the cold metal. She desperately tried to calm herself, but she couldn’t get past feeling like
this,
the indescribable
this
that clogged her throat and sliced every artery that lined the center of her chest, where she desired to have more, to be treated better, and to be left alone to handle
this
fucked-up feeling on her own hung out.
This
feeling that somehow compromised her into accepting the very shit she’d sworn to her girlfriends that she would never contend with.

Yet here she stood, practically naked, on the fire escape with wild hair framing her face like a lion’s mane, swearing that today would be the day that hell would rain down.