I Can’t Help Myself
Kim shivered slightly; small goose bumps made a trail along her arms as the cool night air touched her bare skin. As he drew her near, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders, to her full breasts. His look was as soft as a caress. His fingers traced small circles of sensation around the globes of her breasts. Kneading, massaging until her dark nipples peaked and stood erect. The warmth of his mouth closed around her rosy brown mound of softness, kissing, sucking her smooth roundness. He cupped them with his hands, his thumbs briskly feathering their tautness. Her kiss told him of her arousal.
His breath was just faintly perfumed with wintergreen as his lips met hers. Their tongues touched, circling each other in an erotic ballet of moist sensation. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers teasing her tufted mound. His two thumbs gently pulled the folds apart, and he dipped the tips of his fingers into her sweet flesh. He caressed her tiny jewel, urging her to whisper his name — “Bill, ahhhhh Bill.” Knowing she was ready, his mouth covered hers hungrily.
Bill raised his mouth from hers and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Kim.” She watched as his head bent forward, his woolly brush cut grazing her skin, pushing between her open thighs. He took her tiny pearl between his lips and tongue and sucked on it, at first gently, then harder. She closed her eyes, her head rolling from side to side. She clutched his head, encouraging him not to stop. She made a soft sound and arched her body to meet his plunging tongue.
She could feel her clitoris growing, expanding, getting hotter with each thrust of his tongue. She was sweating, though she couldn’t remember it being hot in the small room. She shivered, and then quite suddenly relaxed. She made a soft moan aloud. Then it began. Her legs began to tremble, her pelvis lifted itself off the mattress as if it were out of control.
She felt her orgasm. Her tiny jewel made one last jab forward, the lips of her vagina opened to grab whatever was available as her insides clamped together like a vise. She groaned aloud. She was coming, and he kept sucking the juices of her honeyed cream. Her legs closed around his head, and he didn’t seem to mind, as he continued his love affair, sucking and eating on her like a hungry animal starved for food. Again she came. And again. She sighed and her eyes closed of their own volition, her body buoyant and languid.
“More . . . I want more, Bill,” she said shamelessly. “Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She shuddered, as his head lifted from her quivering thighs. His body was hot and wet. She could feel the sweat on his back as she ran her fingers along the crevice of his spine. She grasped his shaft between her two hands and guided him into her. Her vagina was still hot and tight from her orgasm. She clamped her muscles around his shaft, as if to lock them together for eternity. He buried his head in her breasts, but she searched his mouth to kiss him, to kiss herself. It made her shiver. The air was heavy with the scent of lust and her exotic Satin perfume.
She grabbed his butt so that his pelvis ground hard against hers, forcing him to plunge deeper and deeper into her. And then he came, moaning her name with a cry of ecstasy as he finally released his passion.
Soft jazz flowed through Bill’s small apartment as they lay silent, enjoying a short moment of reprieve.
“The drywall was delivered this morning,” Bill began as he wrapped the sheet around Kim’s half-nude body.
She turned over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “So you think the clinic should be finished on time for the grand opening in May?”
“Should be.” He slipped on his boxer shorts and handed Kim a manila envelope from his dresser drawer. Several volumes of leather-bound physicians’ texts lined the bookshelf above his bureau. “These are all the signed contracts from the investors.” Sitting beside her as she inspected the contents, he smiled happily to himself. She was everything he ever needed in a woman. When everything was under way he planned to ask her to marry him.
“I’m proud of you, Bill.” She traced the line around his lips with her index finger and kissed him lovingly on the mouth. “I knew everything was going to work out all right. I don’t know why you worry so much.”
He rested the back of his head against the headboard and crossed his ankles. “I’m not worried. Just careful. I’ve got a lot at risk, and it’s important to me to be successful. I’ve got other plans that revolve around the progress of this practice.” He looked around his cramped apartment. “I can’t wait to move into a larger place.” He glanced at Kim quickly, hoping she understood his meaning.
Taking her hands in his, he brought them to his lips, kissing them tenderly. “I want you to understand that we’ll have less time together soon. I’ll be working more hours at the clinic, trying to get it established — regular hours will be a thing of the past. But in the long run it’ll all pay off. The outlook through the year two thousand is excellent for child psychiatrists. Health and welfare agencies need expertise like mine.
“I’ve already been approached by government agencies who have patients in need of the treatments our clinic is offering. We’re also working with teachers, principals, and administrators to provide a network for Black educators to exchange ideas, and strategies for the troubled youths we’ll be seeing at the clinic.
“We’re going to be hosting monthly professional development seminars, reports on effective strategies for teaching Black children, encouraging the Detroit school system to teach history that is relevant to our Black children. The school system is, after all, eighty-five percent Black.
“We want parents to become more actively involved in helping their kids eliminate the gap between potential and achievement.”
Kim looked into the eyes of a man who was dedicated to his chosen field. He stood to make a good living, but he clearly loved helping Black children. Her heart was full of love for her lover, and she longed to utter the words to tell him so. But somehow they remained frozen behind her lips.
Wiping the sleep form her eyes, Ginger fumbled for the telephone. “Hello,” she said huskily.
“It’s me, baby —”
“Jackson?”
“Hi, baby. I’m sorry to call you so late.” Ginger focused her tired eyes on the clock, which spelled out 10:50 P.M. “There was so much to do down here, I lost track of time.”
“Oh, I forgot about the time difference.” Folding back the comforter, she got out of bed and sat on the edge of the window seat. Pulling back the floral drapes, she peered out the window. “How’s the weather?”
“It’s about sixty degrees.”
Outside the sky was clear. High above the tops of the pine trees hung the crescent of a new moon like a pale eyelash. “It’s barely twenty degrees here,” she said, sliding back beneath the warmth. “How’s your mother doing?”
“You know Mama. She won’t admit she’s in any pain, but I can see it in her face just as plain as day. She don’t like us fussing over her.”
“Is everybody there?”
“Everybody except Jab. He’s on the road. I think he’s in Florida. Elmyra called this afternoon and said he’d try to make it by six tomorrow evening.”
“What time is her surgery scheduled for?” Ginger propped her head on her elbow, listening for a hint of worry in his voice.
He cleared his throat and paused for a moment. “It’s set for eight in the morning.”
“Is she in the hospital now?”
“Yeah. We stayed with her until she fell asleep. That’s why I got back so late. She hasn’t seen us all together in almost a year. All of us gave her a play-by-play on how her grandchildren were doing. She asked about Lady Bug and the boys.”
Her mother-in-law never failed to ask about her kids. Ginger secretly wondered if Hattie B. minded her son marrying a woman with three children from a previous marriage. But in the eight years Ginger and Jackson had been married, she’d never asked about the kids’ father, or why she’d divorced him. Ginger had to respect her for that. Most mothers-in-law were so nosy they couldn’t wait to pry and find out all the dirt on their nondeserving daughters-in-law, who they usually felt wasn’t good enough for their saintly sons. But not Hattie B.
“That was nice. Tell her I said hi when you go back to the hospital tomorrow.”
“She told me to give you a message.”
“What?” said Ginger, feeling immediately nervous.
“She told me to tell you she’s keeping an eye on me. You don’t have to worry about your old man running the streets with no strange women.”
“Jackson . . . did you tell her I was jealous?” she asked incredulously.
“I didn’t have to. Remember last summer when you got pissed off at my class reunion and left me at the party?”
“Yeah. I remember. But how was I supposed to know that was your cousin kissing you?”
“If you had asked, instead of jumping to conclusions, I would have told you exactly who she was.”
“I ain’t never seen a family with so many cousins in my entire life. Is everybody in Mississippi related?” Jackson laughed, and Ginger added, “Our family is one of the largest in Port Huron, but it doesn’t come close to yours.”
“I told you I had a big family when you married me, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. But who doesn’t exaggerate a little these days? And when we come down there this summer I’m going to suggest to your sister that we wear name tags. I can’t remember all those people’s names.” She could feel him smiling through the phone.
“Mama gave me six quarts of her homemade plum preserves to bring home to you since she knows you’re so crazy about it.”
Ginger felt a pang of guilt. Her mother-in-law was so nice to her. Ginger remembered her preserves. She’d never tasted plum preserves in her life and couldn’t get enough of it while they were there last summer. Last year the plum trees hadn’t borne much fruit and his mother had been able to put up only a few jars. Ginger had emptied the last one before they left to go home in July. And now Hattie was sending her more.
Deep down she loved her mother-in-law dearly. But Jackson’s overwhelming love for his mother always made Ginger feel jealous and insecure in her presence. How long would these feelings persist? Why couldn’t she understand his respect and love for his mother? Would she ever feel the same kind of undemanding love from Jackson that he demonstrated toward his mother?
A lump formed in her throat before she spoke. “Give your mother a kiss for me, and tell her I love her.”
“Thank you, baby. I love you so much. I’ll call you tomorrow, after you get home from work, to tell you how she’s doing, all right?”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Looking at his empty space in the bed, she felt the sting of loneliness mist her eyes. “I love you,” she said. “You take good care of your mother, you hear?”
* * *
She hung up quickly before her voice broke. Knowing she needed the comfort of his body next to hers. Knowing she needed to feel his arms pulling her close. Knowing she never wanted to be without him again.
Kim opened the door and carefully tiptoed down the hall to keep from alerting her mother to her late return. She hung her leather coat in the front closet and slipped into her bedroom. Feeling safe, she rested her head against the back of the door and let out a long sigh of relief.
She’d taken a shower before leaving Bill’s apartment, ignoring his pleas for her to stay. Kim had only hinted about her mother’s old-fashioned beliefs regarding sex before marriage. Her way of thinking was outdated, and no matter how much Kim tried to bring her mother up to date on twentieth-century mores, she wouldn’t budge an inch on what she considered the proper morals and values for a respectable single woman.
After brushing her teeth with mouthwash so as not to wake her mother with the squeaky faucet, Kim placed her toothbrush back inside the cabinet. She closed her door quietly once again and slid into bed. As she turned on her side, she smiled to herself. Even beneath the cool sheets, her body still felt the warmth of Bill’s lovemaking between her thighs. She curled into a fetal position and pushed her hands between her tightened thighs.
“Girl. Don’t you have a ounce of respect for yourself?” came a raspy voice through the cracked door.
“Mother . . .” Kim turned to see the small woman standing in the doorway. She felt a flash of resentment that passed even as it came, though she was sure she was about to hear the lecture of a lifetime. She tried so hard to respect her mother’s home. Not often, but sometimes, she had to break one of her numerous rules.
“It’s after midnight. I won’t have you disrespecting my home like this, Kim. I just won’t have it.”
“Oh,” Kim said. “I thought this was my home too?”
“It won’t be for long, if you continue to sneak into this house like a common whore,” her mother snapped.
“Mama, we shouldn’t be arguing about something so trivial as me spending some time with my boyfriend. I’m twenty-four years old, Mama. I’m not a child anymore. You can’t expect me to behave like a sixteen-year-old adolescent — I’m a woman, Mama. Can’t you see that?” she pleaded.
She studied her mother in the shadow of the hall light. Her skin was smooth, almost slippery, as if the years had worn away all the roughness the way the wind wears away the surface of stone. She still was an attractive woman, even as she approached the age of three score and ten. Didn’t she remember being in love? Couldn’t she remember the feelings she’d shared with her husband when they were young?
“You’ll always be a child in my eyes, Kim.” Jewel sat beside her daughter on the bed and looked into her face.
Jewel’s eyes had a dreamy, far-away look. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He brought me home at a respectable hour. He walked me to the door, and shook my father’s hand good night. Never even kissed me until he placed an engagement ring on my finger and asked me to marry him. Your father was and will always be a gentleman.” She took a deep breath, and gazed at her daughter before continuing.
“He’d want your beau to give you the same respect he’d shown me.” She patted Kim’s hand. “I know he would.” She started to rise, until Kim whispered her name.
“Mother. Do you hate me that much to use Daddy against me?”