Zane's the Other Side of the Pillow (27 page)

I pulled Tevin's face to mine and kissed him intensely. We must have kissed for a good ten minutes. It had been a while since we had shared a kiss so full of unspoken words and feelings. I was still crying but it was all out of joy.

When we finished kissing, Tevin lowered his head and drank from my fountain.

“When we are in love, we seem to ourselves quite different than what we were before.”

—Blaise Pascal

E
ven though I had been married before, taking Jemistry as my wife had an effect on me that was foreign to me. We got married at a small church in Northeast, DC, with about thirty people present. It could have been three, three hundred, three thousand, or just us and I would have been ecstatic.

Courtney and Floyd were there with their children, several of Jemistry's coworkers and their spouses, including Lilibeth and her husband, and both of my sisters came with their families and both of my parents. My father flew in from Sweden and I was not the least bit surprised.

It was interesting seeing my parents interact. Even though they discussed their offspring from time to time, they had not actually seen each other in several years. Daddy was happy for me but I could tell that he was also sad about ruining the one good thing he ever had: his connection with my mother.

What happened between them was the main reason why I would never, ever cheat on a woman. I watched the pain Mom had endured at the hands of my father and there was no way that I could ever do that to another individual, much less someone that I loved. Too many men did the exact opposite. They followed in their fathers' footsteps and made a mockery out of marriage. That could never, and would never, be me.

Jemistry walked down the aisle in a stunning, off-white, floor-length
gown. Two of the students from the school choir—a male and a female—sang a duet for her entrance: “After All is Said and Done” by Marc Nelson and Beyoncé.

Both of us cried during the ceremony, along with everyone else, even Floyd. We had a reception on a chartered, private yacht and sailed up and down the Potomac River for three hours. It was an amazing day.

I got Jemistry the suite she'd requested at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel—the Presidential Suite. The suite had three bedrooms and it was more than 3,500 square feet. No, we did not need all of that but Jemistry was worth every penny.

We actually made use of most of the rooms, though. We made love like we had never made love before. After speaking to Dr. Horton myself a few days earlier, he had not only assured me that it was fine for us to have sex, but he also told me that Jemistry was “sexually frustrated” and had asked him to call me to discuss, one medical professional to another. She tickled me.

Jemistry had gone on a web site and found all these animated sex positions with the female on top. She had sent me a text with the link and instructed me to “study up on them.” I did and was ready to rock her world . . . gently.

I was not about to go for broke like most men claimed that they did on their wedding nights. It always tripped me out when my friends would brag about how they “tore the pussy up” instead of simply making love. They would share the intimate details and try to outdo each other. It was quite outlandish but not unexpected. Men loved to brag on their dicks, especially to other men.

Once women reached a certain age, or status, it was a great
turn-off
for a man to brag on his sexual skills. Now if women were feeble-minded and going through a dick drought, it was a different story. Those were the kind of chicks Floyd preyed on.

I was so glad that Jemistry hadn't told Courtney about Floyd's wandering eyes, and dick. I had not brought it up to her again—I didn't want to press my luck—and things were getting back to normal between Floyd and me. I'd forgiven him for not telling me about Jemistry's pregnancy in the beginning. The main reason being that I was not quite sure what I would have done if the roles had been reversed. As much as I would have liked to think that I would've told him, I wasn't a hundred percent convinced of that.

Jemistry emerged from the master bathroom of the suite in a lavender satin gown, freshly bathed and smelling like the ocean. I loved the way she played around with using different scents for bathing. She had told me once that she tried to use scents that matched the mood and location, kind of like a florist who makes bouquets based on the occasion. Since we had a suite overlooking the Potomac, and had sailed the Potomac for the reception, I was feeling her flow.

“You look so beautiful,” I told her. I had taken a shower in another bathroom and was only wearing a pair of black pajama pants tied with a string.

She giggled and ran her fingers through her hair in a seductive way. “That makes about the hundredth time you've told me that today.”

“It's the truth.”

I poured us two glasses of sparkling apple cider. Because of the pregnancy, we skipped the champagne.

She walked over to me and I handed her a glass. “For you, Mrs. Harris.”

“I love the sound of that.”

I leaned in for a quick kiss. “Get used to it. It's your name now.”

“Forever.”

“And a day.”

We clinked our glasses together.

“To us,” we said in unison, entwined our arms, and took long gulps.

Jemistry spilt a little on my chest when we were untangling our arms. “Let me get that,” she said, and then licked the few drops off my chest.

Then she went lower, sitting down on the sofa, and unfastening my pants with her teeth.

She set her glass down on the coffee table, pulled my pants down, grabbed my dick, and said, “Let me get this, too.”

Jemistry had given me some off the chain head since we'd been together. She had never been able to take in all of my mass but she was definitely more into it and more comfortable with it. But I still wasn't prepared for what came next.

She started humming on the head of my penis, and whispering, “I want to recite something that I wrote for this special occasion.” She held on tight to my dick and looked up at me. “I penned a poem for my dick.”

“A poem?” I chuckled. “Let's hear it.”

She stared at the head of my dick, at the eye, and started reciting an actual poem. I was blown away—no pun intended.

“I call this ‘Glaze on my Doughnut.' You are the glaze on my doughnut. The milk to my shake. The shake to my bake. The twinkle in my eye. The blue in my sky. You are the peanut to my butter. The sweet in my dreams. The sprinkle on my sundae. The spring in my step and the jewel on my crown. You are the beat of my heart. The flip to my flop. The—”

I couldn't hold it in another second. I fell out laughing and took my dick out of her hand. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, that shit doesn't rhyme.”

She laughed and then swatted me on my dick. “Well, you get the point.”

“Yes, you like this dick.”

“I love this dick. So much so that I started to recite it at the wedding in front of everyone.”

I chuckled. “Mom would have loved it.”

Jemistry started sucking me off like she was starving and it took me less than three minutes to explode in her throat. I almost fainted.

“Damn, I'm going to have to take a break before I can do anything else. You drained me,” I said.

“Nope, no damn breaks!”

She led me into the master bedroom and pushed me down on the bed on my back. Then she went over to her overnight bag, pulled something out, and put it behind her back.

“What's that?” I asked, sitting up on my elbows.

“You'll see. Close your eyes.” I hesitated so she asked, “You don't trust me, Tevin? You married me but you don't trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

I closed my eyes and waited to see what she was going to do next.

She started sucking my dick again gently, then took more and more of me into her mouth. Miraculously, I achieved another erection.

“Wow, I didn't think I could get hard again right now,” I whispered. “Your lips are magic.”

Then I felt something strange. Her mouth started contracting in and out on my dick but not like normal. I heard a buzzing noise, opened my eyes, and Jemistry had a vibrator on the side of her cheek, causing the sensation to ripple inside onto my dick.

“Damn, you're creative,” I practically yelled. “Oh shit!”

By the time she was done with sucking my dick for the second round, she had my ass curled up in a fetal position behind that shit.
She could've put the top-of-the-ladder porn stars to shame with that head game.

“Did you like that, baby?” she asked after I had come again.

“You see me laid up in bed like your little bitch, don't you?” I joked, all the while trying to catch my breath.

I'll be damned if Jemistry didn't act like a man on our wedding night and attempt to fuck me half to death. She had been serious about all of those sex positions. She went to work, and put me to work until I literally passed out about three
AM
.

We went to Sunday brunch at Georgia Brown's about noon and sat there like two lovesick puppies. The rest of the world ceased to exist. We fed each other and talked about our future. Both of us took guesses on how much TJ would weigh when he was born. Jemistry said nineteen inches long and six pounds eleven ounces. I asked her did she realize how damn big I was. I was thinking more like twenty-three inches long and at least ten pounds.

“The Devil is a liar!” Jemistry exclaimed. “I'm not giving birth to a toddler.”

When I informed her that I had actually weighed closer to eleven pounds at birth, she looked like she wanted to pass the hell out.

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“No, I really did. You can call Mom and ask her if you don't believe me.”

She shook her head in dismay. “If TJ is that big, I'd rather bypass even considering natural birth and go straight for the Caesarean section.”

I chuckled. “No one's giving you a C-section that's not needed, baby.”

“It
is
needed. I have to protect my pussy. Ten, eleven pounds, though? Um, no.”

“Well, missy, it's not like you can control his size. Two things are for sure: He's coming and you're the only one who can push him out.”

“Like I said, C-section all the way, Big Meech,” she said and giggled. “Besides, if I push him out, his head might get all jacked up coming out of the birth canal. What if he wants to go bald one day, or ends up bald, and the shape of his head is deformed?”

“You're tripping, baby,” I replied, scooping some eggs up off my plate. I was starved. “His head will be fine.”

“I'm just saying. I've seen enough men with bald heads that look like a two-year-old's Play-Doh project gone bad.”

“Here's what we'll do. At your appointment next week, we'll ask Dr. Horton to guesstimate his size and go from there.”

Jemistry seemed please. “So you agree? If he's too big, I can get cut.”

“No, I agree that we can ask and you're going to have to push his ass out, big head and all, unless there's a medical reason not to.”

Jemistry realized that it was a touchy subject for me. It was. The thought of something actually going wrong during TJ's birth terrified me.

“Okay,” she said. “I'm going to prepare myself for the madness. The things us women have to go through.”

I grinned. “We're already signed up for Lamaze classes. It'll be fine.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “So both of us going in there and taking fake breaths is going to do exactly what when the time comes? You're not seriously planning to sit beside me going through the motions and acting like you know exactly what I'm feeling, are you?”

I didn't respond. It was a crazy concept now that she put it that way.

“I sure hope not. I can see me losing it right then and there. If you or the male doctors start trying to tell me to ‘just push' or ‘relax,' I'm going in. Fair warning. I'll listen to advice from the women but you men don't know jack shit about labor. Hell, I don't know jack shit about it yet.”

I changed the subject. “Are you sure you're ready to return to work?”

“Tevin, we have almost four months before I'm due. I'll be a freaking sociopath if I sit at home all that time. I'd rather watch paint dry than watch another episode of the shows that I've been watching.”

“Baby, there are hundreds of cable channels.”

“I know, and half the time I still can't find anything interesting on. Crazy, isn't it?”

Again, she had a point. Outside of the few sports- and news-related shows that I watched, there wasn't much on that interested me either.

Jemistry pushed her plate away. “I'm tapping out.”

I pushed mine away as well. “I'm tapping out, too.”

“Just because it's a buffet, it doesn't mean that I have to pig out,” she said.

“Agreed.”

She eyed me with “that look.” “You need to take your missus home and put me to bed.”

I winked. “My pleasure.”

When we got to our house, I carried Jemistry over the threshold. Then I did what she requested: put her back to bed and made love to her for the rest of the day.

I finally had it all, and I would do whatever it took to keep it.

“Love in its essence is spiritual fire.”

—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

N
ovember 22nd, 2013, will forever go down on record as being one of the worst days in my life. I will never forget it. We'd been married a little over a month and we were looking forward to spending our first Thanksgiving together as husband and wife. We had decided that we would spend it alone together. The following year, we would have TJ there and would invite a lot of friends and relatives over.