“No, not exactly.” Then he gave her the truth. “Well, yeah, I guess there is. See those two women over there?” He nodded his head in the direction of a nearby table.
Denise glanced at the two black women seated at the table. “Yes, what about them?”
“They’re staring at us.”
“Oh, my God, Kevin, that’s not your ex-girlfriend, is it?” She was suddenly very self-conscious.
“No, that’s not Alicia.” He was amazed that she hadn’t figured out why the women were staring. “Denise, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, Kevin, ask me anything you like.” She was beginning to suspect where this was headed.
“You seem a little unaware of what’s really going on here. Why would a white woman call an African American date line anyway?”
“Like I told you last night on the phone, I find it hard to meet good black men.”
“But why do you want to meet black men anyway? Why didn’t you call one of the hundreds of white date lines?”
He had been shocked when he met Denise at the Garden and discovered she was a white woman. At first he thought she was probably some rich white girl looking to hook up with a brother to fulfill a jungle-fever fantasy. He didn’t mind this, because in truth, he thought a one-night stand might be just what he needed. But now he was suspicious about her true motives. Her actions during the evening were not the typical flirtatious advances of a woman looking for easy sex. Kevin was beginning to worry that this woman was looking for a relationship, and he knew it was something he did not want just then. He waited for Denise to explain her intentions, hoping she was not interested in anything too deep.
“Honestly, Kevin, because I have no attraction for white men, and very little attraction to light-skinned black men. My therapist thinks it has something to do with the dark-skinned chauffeur who drove my father’s car and dropped my brothers and me at school every morning until I was a teenager. He gave me more fatherly affection than my own dad.”
Kevin had to stifle a laugh as he thought:
Those damn therapists will say anything to convince their patients they need more treatment. That’s why black people don’t go to them.
“But to tell you the truth, I think it was more simple than that. I saw Wesley Snipes in the movie
New Jack City,
and he was so hot, I saw it fifteen times. Then I saw him make love in
Mo’Better Blues.
I don’t think it’s complex. I just have a strong attraction for dark black men.”
Kevin listened to every word intensely. The majority of white women he’d ever known who preferred brothers were either super-fat or trashy. This woman didn’t fit his stereotype. She was beautiful and classy, with her blond hair and flawless makeup. He supposed it was possible that it was just some sexual fantasy brought on by a few too many Wesley Snipes films.
“Okay, Denise, what’s the real deal? Your Park Avenue boyfriend not turning you on under the sheets? Thought you’d go find a big black stud to put out that fire between your legs, then go back to the country club and brag to your friends about how you let some black savage ravage your body?”
“No.
This isn’t a game to me, Kevin, and I’m not some cheap one-night stand. I just like dating black men.” Denise gave him a serious look. She was surprised by his affront. It was such a sudden change after how polite and gentle he had been toward her all evening.
“All right. If you’re so into brothers, why didn’t you tell me you were white on the phone last night, or at least say it in your message?”
“Would you have agreed to meet me if I told you I was white?”
“No, I probably wouldn’t have even responded to your ad.” He wanted to be sure this woman knew there was no chance of a relationship.
“Well, you don’t feel that way now, do you?” As uncomfortable as she was, Denise was glad that the color issue was out in the open.
“Denise, I hope I didn’t just give you the wrong idea.” Kevin knew it was important to clear this up quickly. “I don’t believe in interracial dating. We can be friends, but this is the last date between us.”
“Why? Aren’t you having a good time?”
Kevin thought she might actually be ready to cry, and that was definitely not the scene he wanted. She had treated him to a great time, and the thought of going to more Knicks games definitely appealed to him. He decided to steer her down the friendship road.
“I’m having a great time, and you’re a beautiful woman. I swear, if you were black, I’d probably end up marrying you and having kids. But there are too many black women looking for a good black man for me to go out like that. I’m sorry.” He imagined his mother fainting on the spot if he walked into her house with this white woman.
“You’re not even going to give it a chance?”
“No, I’m not.” Kevin tried to sound sympathetic. “But I could use a new friend, okay?”
“Okay.” Denise gained her composure. Her lawyerly instincts took over and she didn’t want this man to see her get emotional. She forced a smile. He was the handsome, sincere, and honest man she had sought for a very long time. There was no way she was going to give him up just because she was white. She was determined he was going to be hers, and she was accustomed to getting what she wanted. They could play the friendship game for a little while, if that’s what it took.
19
MAURICE
Maurice walked into his bedroom a little wobbly, sipping on his fourth brandy. He sat on the bed and loosened his tie as Sylvia walked out of her bathroom. She strode past him without a word and stood facing the full-length mirror. She let her robe fall to the floor, exposing a pair of thong panties, silk stockings, and a garter belt.
Maurice tried to adjust his eyes. He stared at the glass in his hand, thinking he ought to buy this brand of brandy more often. He never would have imagined he could be turned on by his wife the way he was then. It had to be the brandy. Placing his glass on the nightstand, he stood up and walked over to his wife. He pressed his body against hers from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he murmured in her ear.
She thanked him without a trace of emotion in her voice. She hurried to put her earrings on as Maurice kissed her neck.
“Could you stop that, please? I really have to get ready to meet Vivian for this show.” She shrugged her shoulders and wiggled away from his grasp.
“You don’t have to be there for an hour and a half, sweetie.” He moved closer and started nibbling on her neck again.
Unfazed, Sylvia pulled away and moved over to her dresser to select a necklace from her jewelry box. Maurice followed her and ran his hand along her thigh, taking a long look at the erotic underwear Sylvia had on.
“When did you start wearing such sexy underwear? It makes me want to do naughty things to you, you know” He figured his wife would be flattered by his rare compliment. Instead, she whirled to face him angrily.
“I can’t believe you just asked me that. For your information, I’ve been wearing this kind of lingerie for months. If you were interested in getting some, you would have figured it out a while ago. Goddammit, Maurice, it’s the middle of February. I can’t believe it took you two months to notice. Am I supposed to be flattered now?” she ranted.
This was definitely not the reaction he had expected. Usually she was so compliant when he asked for sex. He didn’t know what her problem was but figured he would have to fake an apology now if he wanted to get anything. He gave her a weak hug.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he began feebly. “Why don’t you lie down and let me make it up to you?” He took off his suit jacket, fully expecting her to comply.
“No, thanks, I’m really in a rush.”
“Hey, Syl, it’s your birthday. Don’t you want to get a little before you go out?” He had never come so close to begging.
“Maurice, I just got my hair and nails done. And to tell you the truth, I think I’m getting my period. These cramps are killing me.” She didn’t even bother to look at him as she slid into a fitted black dress designed to reveal lots of cleavage.
“I guess there’s nothing you can do about that. So why are you wearing thong panties if you’re going to get your period?” He was disappointed and becoming a little suspicious. Sylvia could hear the doubt in his voice, and that amused her.
“I don’t know, Maurice. Maybe they just make me feel a little sexier. God knows you don’t do that for me.”
“You need to put on some regular panties before you go out,” he demanded. If he couldn’t coax her into giving him something, he sure as hell was going to at least put her back in her place.
“Look, Maurice, why the hell are you telling me how to dress all of a sudden? I’m dressing to make me happy. You don’t seem to care about my self-esteem, so I’m doing what makes me happy. Now, if you want to talk about underwear, why didn’t you have any on when you came home two nights ago?”
That shut him up. When he didn’t respond, she turned around and finished dressing. Maurice sat brooding. He knew he couldn’t push her too far, because his own indiscretions were becoming more frequent. As he learned how easy it was to find unsuspecting young women on the date line, Maurice had begun taking more risks. Where he used to stay out perhaps once a month, it was becoming more like once or twice a week. His libido was satisfied, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his alibis straight. On several occasions he had slipped, as she pointed out, by forgetting his underwear once, and missing a smear of lipstick on his collar on another occasion.
Before this night Maurice believed wholeheartedly that he could do anything and Sylvia would still be right by his side. She had been almost pathetically devoted to him for so many years, regardless of how badly he treated her, how much he belittled her. Her devotion had given Maurice a strong sense of invincibility, but Sylvia had shocked him during this fight. He had no idea she had even noticed the night he came home without underwear. Now he knew that if she had noticed that and not mentioned it, there were probably other things she was withholding. Sylvia would just throw this all back in his face if he started accusing her of too much. It was as if they were in some kind of bizarre tactical war, and she held the upper hand at the moment. After a long silence he made his last-ditch attempt to get some play from his wife. He needed it to feel like he was still in control.
“Well, wake me up when you get home, Syl. Maybe I’ll let you go down on me.”
Not on your life, sucker
was what she wanted to tell him, but she played it cool to avoid a fight. She wanted to get out of there on time.
“Sorry. I’m spending the night at Vivian’s.” Admiring herself in the mirror, she smoothed the fabric of her black dress over her hips and gave Maurice one more jab. “But talk to me in five or six days and maybe we can work something out, okay?”
Maurice slumped back on the bed, defeated.
Kissing him on the forehead, Sylvia walked out the bedroom door, telling him over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”
Maurice sat on the bed and pouted for a while after Sylvia left.
What the hell was that all about?
he wondered angrily as he finished his brandy.
Since when does she turn me down?
This side of Sylvia was completely foreign to Maurice, and he certainly didn’t like it. He preferred his wife when she was totally compliant to his wishes. Now he felt challenged by her, and it upset him.
He considered going downstairs to get the bottle of brandy and finishing it off but couldn’t stand the image of staying home to get drunk alone. He sat around thinking about how Sylvia had changed. The thought that she could be cheating on him crossed his mind, but he just couldn’t make himself believe that she would want anyone but him. His place as the most important thing in her life had been cemented so many years before, he doubted that would ever change. Now his job was to figure out this metamorphosis she seemed to be experiencing and stop it before things became more difficult for him. He didn’t want things at home to become so unbearable that he was forced to divorce Sylvia. As much as he didn’t love her, he needed a respectable wife for social functions. And he definitely needed her family money, which had helped them achieve their present status. Maurice knew he had some serious work to do to bring his wife back to her old compliant self.
In the meantime though, he was still horny. His plan to straighten out his wife would have to wait until he was a little more sober and a little less horny. He pulled out his wallet and cell phone. Inside his wallet he searched for and found a business card from a tattoo parlor on Jamaica Avenue. He called the parlor and asked to speak to Janet, one of the tattoo artists.
“This is Janet,” a woman with a deep, sexy voice answered.
“Hi, Janet, this is Maurice. We met yesterday afternoon, remember?”
“Oh, yeah” She laughed. “You’re the straitlaced rich guy I met from 1-900-BLACK-LUV I can’t believe you pretended to be interested in getting a tattoo”
“Actually, if I remember correctly, you seemed pretty interested in working on me.”