"Hello?"
"Persha?"
"Yes baby, it’s me," she whispered glancing up at her co workers.
Persha tried not to show off the smile that had spread from ear to ear across her face, but she couldn’t help but feel giddy each time she spoke to Clarke.
"You wanna’ hook up later?"
"What time?" Persha asked, now fidgeting with the telephone cord.
"I think six should be good, let’s meet at Schmitz and McCormick, off Post Oak," he said.
"I’ll be there," she sang.
Hours before quitting time, Persha couldn’t keep her eyes off the clock. She knew the hands of time were only moving slowly because she was going to meet her man after work. Theirs was turning into quite the fairytale romance. Years ago, she would’ve given her right arm and her first born for this type of relationship with him.
Persha was so thrilled to be in this situation. Despite his wife at home, Clarke was still able to make her feel like the one and only woman in his life.
~ The Secret Taboo
Clarke rolled off of Persha’s moist body exhausted and fulfilled. He glanced over at her with a look of sheer satisfaction plastered across his face. She was still catching her breath. Her legs trembled as she adjusted herself and snuggled her body up next to his.
"Damn Shorty, you just get better and better," he confirmed.
She thought the words, but didn’t dare ask them, although she wanted to desperately. Better than her? His compliment warmed her heart. She had wanted to drain him, to give him unspeakable pleasures and unparalled bliss. Persha lifted her body up on one elbow and gazed down at him longingly.
"Are you happy?" she asked.
"Am I? Shorty, a brotha ain’t had nobody break it off like that in a long ass while. Girl, you just too much, too damn much," he sighed.
She was beaming on the insides, but struggled to maintain a sense of modesty. She intended to give him the best pussy for as long as he’d take it, and she hoped that would be for a very long time.
"Well, I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, and I’m not just talking about all the splendid sex either."
"What?" Clarke faked concern. "You trynta say my sex ain’t the bomb-diggity?" he joked.
Persha shook her head vigorously. "No, no no, Mr. Hudson that’s not what I’m saying at all. Parish the thought!" she giggled.
"Hmmm, I didn’t think so, ‘cause a brotha would have to wake Mandingo back up again," he teased.
Persha’s eyebrows shot up. "Is that a threat? I mean are you willing to back that up?"
Before she realized what was happening, he took her by the back of the head and lowered her down to his pelvic area. Persha didn’t hesitate to open her mouth and revive his limp member.
The minute she felt him stiffen between her lips, she straddle him quickly and wiggled her hips to help offer him a better fit. He grabbed her hips, guiding her body just right.
"Emmmm, Clll-arke," she moaned. Persha reached up and rubbed her own breasts.
"Yes, Persha."
She rocked her hips, then palmed his chest, raking her fingers along its ridges. Persha squeezed her eyes shut and savored the sensation of him delving deep within the walls of her womb.
"Damn girl, I’m about to…"
Persha rocked her body even harder. She leaned forward, shoving her bare breasts into his face. He responded by palming, then squeezing them together.
"Oh, yes Clarke, that’s it baby, that’s exactly what I like," she cooed.
"I know, Shorty I know. Remember, I know all about you… this is still my pussy baby." he responded before suckling both nipples at the same time.
Round two ended in an eruption of physical euphoria for them both. As she struggled to catch her breath, her mind tossed around his last words before she snuggled up next to his sweaty body and closed her eyes.
"Remember, I know all about you… this is still my pussy baby."
You damn straight it is. She smiled as his words rang out in her head, she tried to get some rest.
The aftermath
~ Persha
Two weeks after the restaurant reunion, Clarke was knocking at Persha’s front door. With flowers in hand, he glanced around the darkened parking lot, and rang the doorbell when she didn’t answer right away.
"Aeey Boo," he greeted, the moment she opened the door.
She smiled, at the fact that he brought flowers every time he visited.
Thirty minutes after he arrived, Clarke sat across from Persha to enjoy dinner by candlelight. She had prepared T-bone steaks smothered in wild mushrooms and red onions, over rice palif and steamed vegetables. They were drinking Reunite with the meal.
"Damn a woman who can handle her business in the bedroom and the kitchen," he said before stuffing his mouth with the last of his steak.
"I’m so glad you’re enjoying dinner," she said.
Music played softly through the surround sound system. Persha had carefully selected a series of instrumental jazz pieces so that words wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. With rose petals scattered all over the room, a sweet lingering scent filled the air.
Persha had been a little concerned about an odor that seemed to linger all over the house. She was praying he didn’t notice it. If he did, she couldn’t tell, the way he was constantly smiling at her over dinner.
"Shorty, what ever happened to us? We used to be so good together, you remember?" He asked.
She remembered all right, remembered everything about the devastating heartache she struggled with for months when he finally walked out for good. They were students at UNLV, the University of Nevada Las Vegas back then. Clarke was a runnin’ rebel.
He had always told her how his father Clarke Sr. was such a die-hard rebel fan. He often talked about how they were there for the most memorable day in sports at the Sam Boyd Stadium on campus.
Persha still couldn’t forget the sheer delight in his eyes when he described being there when former Los Angeles Laker superstar Kareem Abdul-Jabbar passed Walt Chamberlin as leading scorer in the NBA.
He told her how on that April day in 1984 he knew at the age of 13 he wanted nothing more than to become a Rebel, because he’d never in his life seen his father so excited. Clarke did go on to bring screaming fans and his father to their feet at that very stadium. Everyone thought that Clarke would get drafted and that the two of them would get married.
But things didn’t work out that way. After two years of failing to make an NBA team, coupled with his frustrations over constant arguments with his father, Clarke dropped out of school, went overseas, and left Persha heartbroken and alone. Back then Clarke made it clear, that her tagging along was not an option. But that was the past, long-long ago, she told herself, shaking off the memories.
Persha had dreamed of this night ever since their chance meeting at the restaurant. Sure they had met for drinks and lunch a couple of times since then, but never in the intimate setting of a non-public atmosphere. A part of Persha still couldn’t believe Clarke was sitting across from her.
It was close to midnight and they had moved to the couch, sipping wine and talking about their current lives. Persha was all too aware of the time, but she didn’t want to bring it up.
She wondered why his cell phone or pager hadn’t gone off throughout the night. Quite surely his wife had to be worried about his whereabouts. If he were her husband, she’d be with him, or at least know where to find him she thought. But just like while they were on their other dates, nothing ever rang or vibrated, and she wasn’t about to complain. So they continued their evening without interruption.
The next day, Persha was sluggish and slow. When she arrived at Kelly’s restaurant Off-Broadway to meet Cricket and Kori for their usual bi monthly Saturday morning breakfast, they noticed her lethargic behavior right away.
"Y’all order yet?" She grumbled.
"Un-huh," Kori said, eyeing Persha suspiciously. Cricket just sipped her juice and glanced at her watch.
Pulling her chair closer to the table, "I know I’m late," Persha said as she released a yawn she couldn’t suppress. "My mother called and insisted we prayed before I headed out this morning. She wouldn’t let me off the phone until I repeated some verse her Pastor said in church last week." She reached for the menu, muffling another yawn.
"Well," Cricket looked at her. "What was it?"
"What was what?" Persha looked up from the menu.
"The verse, the one you had to recite?"
"Oh, what’s to come is better than what has been when the Lord is the captain of your destiny."
"Hmm," Cricket said. "Okay, but what’s the Saturday morning sermon got to do with you being all worn out? You all didn’t do that much praying," she persisted.
"Thought you were calling it an early night. Isn’t that why you couldn’t meet us at Cabos for drinks?" Kori asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Persha struggled with another yawn. She moved the menu in front of her face, but Kori quickly snatched it down.
"Okay, who is he?" Kori said as she started giggling. It didn’t take long for the three of them to start carrying on like schoolgirls until the waitress interrupted them.
After the waitress walked away with Persha’s order, Kori leaned forward.
"Okay, dish the dirt, girlfriend, and don’t you dare leave a single thing out. I want all of the juicy dirty details," Kori insisted.
By now, Persha had Cricket’s attention too. Knowing there was no way she’d get away without telling her friends something, she braced herself and started.
"Well, remember a while back when we were at Razoo’s and I ran into Clarke? You guys asked why we didn’t make plans to hook up?"
The skeptical look on Cricket’s face slowed the story, but Persha knew there was no turning back.
"Yeah?" Kori asked eagerly.
"Well, keep in mind he did give me his business card, and-uh, I was bored one day, so-um I called him, and well-um, one thing sort of led to another, and-"
The waitress came back with two Texas sized plates. She gracefully eased them onto the table and looked at Persha.
"Yours will be here in a few minutes, ‘kay?" she stated as she walked away, taking Persha’s smile as a ‘kay’.
Persha looked on as steam rose from Kori and Cricket’s plates. "Ummm, sure smells good," she said as the two dug in.
After swallowing her first bite, Kori looked up at Persha and said, "Okay, bring it!"
"O-kaay, well, um-I agreed to cook dinner and he came over last night."
"Alone?" Cricket pressed.
"Of course alone," Persha snapped.
"What’s dinner got to do with you being late meeting us and tired this morning. looks like you could hardly keep your eyes open," Cricket retorted.
"Unless dinner turned into breakfast," Kori grinned.
"Let’s just say at about three in the morning, I had to all but push him out the door."
"OHMIGOD! What about his wife?" Cricket asked, wearing a worried look all over her face.
Persha shrugged and nodded toward the waitress, who was finally bringing her plate. Once the waitress left, Cricket leaned closer to the center of the table.
"What about Clarke’s wife?" Cricket whispered.
"Oh, girl, he says things aren’t going too good at home. Besides, every time we’re together, she never calls or pages him. Most times we hang out for hours." Persha shrugged one shoulder and turned to her food.
Kori stopped chewing and Cricket placed her fork down on the plate. "Every time?" They asked in unison.
Realizing her slip way too late, Persha rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth.
"I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us," Kori stated as she started giggling again. But Cricket didn’t crack a smile or utter a word. She looked at Persha and started shaking her head.
"See, that’s why I didn’t tell y’all I was kicking it with Clarke again. I don’t need you judging me," Persha said, snatching her food off the fork with her teeth like she had an attitude.
"Ain’t nobody judging you, Persha. It’s just you’ve been down that road, why put yourself through his crap again? It’s like falling into a ditch, finally struggling to pull yourself out, only to walk over there and deliberately fall right back in again," Cricket snickered. "Nothing good can come from such a fall, especially the second time around."
"Oh, stop being so damn melodramatic, Cricket," Kori hissed. "I want to hear all the juicy little details." She started squirming in her chair. "Gurrl, how long y’all been kickin’ it with each other again?" Persha closed her eyes. "Nuh-uh, don’t even try to get all emotional on us now. You might as well spill it," Kori insisted. "The cat is out, bay-bee, so start dishing, girlfriend!"
"Talking about what? He’s a married man!" Cricket snapped. "What would your mother say? You know better, Persha."
Persha slowly looked up and released her next words with a heavy breath. "You didn’t even have to go there, Cricket."
Paula, Persha’s Bible-quoting holier than thou mother was the very last person she wanted to think about. She didn’t want to think about what Paula would really say.
"Besides, you just don’t understand," Persha softly insisted.
"Don’t understand? Huh, let me guess; Clarke is just some downtrodden husband, stuck in a lousy marriage and life would be so much better if only she’d agree to a divorce. Then he’d be all yours, right?" Cricket said sarcastically.
"Awwh, Cricket, you always hating." Kori said. "So he’s married. If he says he ain’t happy that’s not Persha’s fault. Girlfriend shouldn’t be blamed because his wife didn’t learn how to keep her man at home. And Persha’s mama ain’t got nothing to do with this!"
Persha didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but she knew Kori was just getting started. She knew this would happen once her secret got out, that’s why she wanted to avoided telling them for as long as possible. She and Clarke had been seeing each other on the down low ever since that chance encounter.
"I’m not some little dumb mistress who’s being told to give it more time," Persha said in her defense. "Clarke and I go way back and I know him better than any woman ever could. I know he’s not happy with her, and I know how to make him happy. Besides, like he said, we were so good together."