Miscegenist Sabishii (16 page)

“What do you want me to do?”

“Inside of me.  I want you inside of me.”  She turned to her side.  We found that was the easiest way.  I came out of my clothes, ready to enter her, which I did carefully, holding her in my arms, her back against me.  I lightly pinched her nipples; first one then the other as I rocked gently within her.

She cried out her pleasure with each gentle thrust and I slipped my fingers between her crease and lightly pinched her clit.  She grunted indelicately and began gyrating her hips rapidly, forcing me to increase my pace.  But I was not going to be as hard as she wanted.  That scared me though she assured me that I couldn’t hurt the baby who was nowhere near her vagina.  Maybe she was right but I made sure to pull my pumping hips.

Soon, the sound of Nikki’s steady groans picked up in tempo and volume.  I felt my balls tighten and rise and then I was cumming along with her.  Trying to control my own orgasm only caused it to feel that much better and I gripped her hips roughly, holding her in place while I continued to pump into her.  After a moment the last jolt of electricity slammed into me and I cried out cumming violently yet gently into her.

Afterwards, Nikki hummed contentedly and I showered her neck and shoulders with kisses.  Before she fell asleep I whispered into her ear. 

“Nikki?”

“Hmmm?”

“You and Dean…” she turned her head to look at me. 

“What?”

“Did you…did you always use…um protection?”  Because she hadn’t with me.  She was on the pill with me.  Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but it was the thing that I needed to know.

She sat up in bed and turned to me, her face calm.  “Always.”  I swallowed.  “I always used protection with him.  The condom broke once.” She touched my face.  “T, I’ve made love to men without using protection before.  But the thing is; I made love with them.  I was never in love with Dean and we always used a condom.”

I nodded, ashamed that I’d even asked.  But I felt better knowing. 

NIKKI

Mrs. Durdak’s house had almost gone through a complete transformation in just two short months.  I was doing the final walk through before the first open house.  Tony swept into the living room wearing dirty jeans and an even dirtier t-shirt.

“Baby!”  I exclaimed.  “You are funky!” 

“I know but you wanted the fountain working, right?  I finally got it going and it looks great.”

“Oh wow!”  I hurried out the door.  Mrs. Dura was already standing there looking at it with pleasure.  She clapped her hands when she saw me.

“It’s beautiful.”  She did a slow spin.  “Everything is beautiful.”  And it was.  The yard was impeccable as usual, and the house now matched it.  There was new aluminum siding,

the roof had been repaired and the gutters replaced, there were new shutters and the porch had been repaired and painted and it now looked great.

I looked at Tony proudly.  He had orchestrated much of the work himself and where he couldn’t do it himself, he had called in some favors and traded in some of the comps that he’d gotten from work in exchange for material.  My cousin and their friends had helped out and instead of hanging out at the rec center once a week they spent time here getting things in order.  Mrs.
Dura was so happy to have the guys present.  She called them boys and cooked for them and they loved being spoiled by her.  Dean, of course didn’t show up.  T mentioned that he was lying low and had declined any invitation in which they had to be in each other’s presence.

I kissed T even though he was funky and dirty. I was so proud of him.  We’d all worked so hard.  Mrs. Dura placed a kiss on both of our cheeks and then returned to the house.

“Okay, smelly man, go back home and get changed.” He swatted my ass and then hurried to the car.  Several people were standing outside of the fence and I ambled over and opened it even though we still had another twenty or twenty-five minutes before it was actually scheduled to show.

It felt good to show the house.  It was beautiful and received lots of ooohs and ahhs.  It didn’t hurt that Mrs.
Dura was a collector and several people recognized her antiques.  I had told her not to get her hopes up too high on this first showing as the economy made it difficult for people to afford a major purchase, not to mention that it was much harder to qualify for a loan.  Generally this first showing was for real estate agents to get an idea of what we had.

But at the end of the evening she had two offers on the large house; both from neighbors willing to finish up with any updates and repairs.  Tears were in Mrs. Durdak’s eyes when I gave her the news.  I worried that she had regrets and might want to back out of selling but that wasn’t it.

“How soon can I move?  I can’t wait to get into my condo!”  She had fallen in love with the very first place I’d shown her.  I knew it would be a perfect match for her.  She covered my hands.

“I want to do something special for you and your man.  I know you two are trying to save money.  And I feel so bad about you two not having jobs.”

“For the millionth time, that wasn’t your fault.  Neither of us wanted to be there anymore.”

“Yes, I know but still…I want to do something nice for you.  I want to hold the wedding here at the house…well that is; if you can do it before it sells.”

I gave her a surprised look, not realizing that she had heard our concerns about the how much to spend on a wedding. And she did have the perfect house for an outdoor wedding.  And as things stood we didn’t have any place booked and had no hopes of getting anything nice if we wanted to be married before the baby’s birth.  And of course, she was right, we wanted to save money and were just planning a very private affair. 

I hugged her close.  “I’ll speak to Tony about it.  This house would be lovely for a wedding.”

Mrs. Dura smiled.  She was doing that a lot lately.  “It would be nice to send my house off with a bang.”

***

Not even two weeks later, she, my mother and Mrs. Y organized a beautiful wedding in the back yard of Mrs. Durdak’s home.  It was a private affair but still had nearly 100 guests including family, friends as well as well wishers from our former job.  Yes, people from the job have been contacting us telling us how much we were missed and how things have changed without Tony’s management.  There was even talk of an investigation by the FDIC. 

It’s no stretch that Tony and I decided on a wedding that was a fusion of African-American and Asian. The music of Nujabes drifted softly over the speakers; an artist that mixed traditional Asian music with hip-hop.  I saw Mrs. Y holding a glass of champagne and dancing in a beautiful manner to the soft music.  Mrs. Y brought tears to my eyes because she treated me like a daughter throughout the wedding preparations…as well as before—back when she had first discovered that the baby might not be Tony’s. 

She showed up at the house early one morning and told me that it was time I learned to make hotpot.  I was surprised to see her at the house. I had chickened out of the previous two Sunday dinners, feigning fatigue.  So when I saw her at my doorstep I was more than a little nervous. But she didn’t even mention the parentage of the baby—not even in that sly way that she had of broaching an off limit topic.

We went to a local Asian market and my eyes were so busy scanning all of the strange packaging that I didn’t realize that I had become the center of attention.  Several older Asian women were staring at me in a mix of awe and confusion.  I looked over at Mrs. Y who was watching me proudly.  She spoke in sharp Japanese to the group of spectators.

In unison I heard them all sigh.  “Awww.”  Mrs. Y just watched me with pride before finally speaking in her familiar, choppy English.  “Nikki these the ladies from my cultural group.  We meet on Saturday, talk, play mahjong, eat and drink tea.”  Then Mrs. Y placed her hands on my belly and I grinned.  She was showing me off to her friends.  It made me feel so special, it was the first time that she made me cry but it wouldn’t be the last time.  She was so accepting of the baby that I began to wonder how she knew things about this baby before me.  So buying into the entire supernatural-Asian thing, one day I asked her if the baby was Tony’s.  We’d never talked about this.  She never treated the baby as if it wasn’t her grandchild.  I thought maybe she knew something that I didn’t.

Mrs. Y poured me a cup of tea before answering. “I don’t know.”  She said plainly. 

“Oh.”  I felt both disappointed and stupid. 

She gave me a long look.  “Nikki, I knew you were pregnant.  The signs are clear if you know what to look for.  It’s not mysticism.  I don’t know if the father is Tony.  I just know that as long as you are my daughter then this baby is my grandchild.”  That was the second time that she caused me to cry. 

I told Tony that I wanted to dress in traditional Japanese attire for our wedding.  I wanted to do it for a lot of reasons, to pay tribute to both Tony and his heritage, to give back to Mrs. Y and because I was frankly too big to fit comfortably into anything but a Japanese kimono.  Mrs. Y was so surprised that this time it was me that made her cry.  She insisted on making my white shiromuku, and Tony’s black montsuki. 

They were beautiful.  I know that I’m supposed to be the gorgeous one but when I saw T standing under a real rose trellis wearing the traditional black kimono and pants I almost lost my breath.  His hair was long enough to tie back and he stood there so straight, and I knew that it was all for me; for us.

Of course, when he saw me he seemed to be doing the same thing.  It was a true union.  We had the pastor from church actually perform the service.  And then in an act of humor, Mrs. Dura and my cousin Jay placed a broom across the velveteen red carpet for us to jump over.  Tony and I laughed so hard.  I held my tummy and then tentatively jumped over the broom.  Everyone cheered for us and I felt like I was on top of the world.  

After the wedding we had a Japanese reception called a kekkon hiroen.  And then we all lined up and did the electric slide; what wedding would be complete without it?  Even Mr. and Mrs. Y joined in. 

On top of all that Mrs. Dura had done for us, as a wedding present she gave us the antique Geisha lamp that Tony had admired.

“Mrs. Dura…”  He tried to hand it back to her.  “This is too much, I can’t accept this-“

She made a hmph sound.  “There really is no place for it in my condo.  If you don’t take it, it will go in storage and then I’ll just will it to you when I die.”

Tony’s chocolate eyes twinkled.  “In that case, thank you!  I absolutely love this piece.”  He kissed her and that seemed to make her day.

It was closing in on midnight before we went off for our honeymoon; which was back to our apartment with Wu-Tang and a movie.  There was absolutely no place that I would have rather been.

TONY

Nikki sighed and I played particular attention to the tight knots around her neck and shoulders.  I gave her a massage every night because at this stage of the pregnancy she was fairly uncomfortable.  Mostly it was her feet and legs but tonight it was her shoulders and neck.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

She peeked at me.  “Why do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Because your neck feels like a heavy weight boxer’s.”

She sighed again and then rolled over and struggled to sit up with me helping her.  “Baby…a house just came on the market.  I know I shouldn’t but I’ve fallen in love with it.  You know how you see something when you’re not even looking for it, and it’s everything that you ever want?”

I gave her a knowing look.  “I know that feeling exactly.  It’s the feeling I had when I first saw you.”

She smiled slowly.  “Thank you.”  She leaned over and kissed me.

“Tell me about this house.”

She sighed and stood up, stretching.  “It is so perfect.  It’s like…US.”  She grinned.  “There’s a real Japanese garden in back, with a koi pond and a small bridge!  Can you believe that?”  But then her expression dropped.  “But it’s a Frank Lloyd Wright and you know what that means; when it goes on the market there’s going to be a bidding war!”