My Daughter's Boyfriend (19 page)

Tracey 21

It was Thursday, the day before Christmas Eve, and a
few days since Aaron gave Lauren her walking papers. It was a little past twilight, and I had just gotten back from a day at the mall. Found some to-die-for Liz Claiborne pumps for myself, and bought a new juicer for Indira.

Lauren was home. She hadn’t slept well all that week. Stayed up till three in the morning listening to music, weeping, and hugging her pillow. I wanted to come to her, but didn’t know what to say. All Lauren told me was ‘we broke up.’ ” Never said anything else. I didn’t ask either. So we stayed out of each other’s way. But on Thursday, I called Aaron on his cell phone. I was in my walk-in closet on the far side of the apartment.

“Where are you, Aaron?”

“In the neighborhood.”

“Are you really?”

“Yep, I’m at Best Buy on South Gessner, checking out CDs.”

“You and those CDs.”

“Hey, I just bought some Master P. May I swing by and kick it with you, maybe listen to some sounds?”

“No, better not.”

“Why not? Lauren there?”

“You got it. She basically stayed up all night and most of the morning. Right now she’s knocked out and dead to the world.”

“Good. I’m coming over,” he said firmly.

“No,” I told him with a firmness of my own.

“Yes, I just paid for my CD and I’m walking to my car right now. I can be there in two, three minutes.”

“Oh, you.”

He laughed. “Y-you miss me?”

“Mmmm, don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Hey, won’t be long now. Look out the window and I’ll be over sooner than you think.”

I rushed to Lauren’s room, careful to open her door without making any noise. A couple of pillows were positioned on her head. I heard her inhaling deep, uneven breaths. My heart melted and I stepped back out of the room. I knew Aaron’s coming by was risky, yet I wanted to see him. I hoped the visit would be brief; maybe sneak a kiss or two, and then send him on his way.

When Aaron arrived, I didn’t let him ring the bell. I saw him coming and opened the door before he got upstairs. He walked through the entrance wearing one gold stud in his left ear, a gold silk shirt, and a tan pair of slacks, the kind where the belt falls below the waist.

He smiled at me, I at him. The moment our fingertips touched, Aaron drew me into his arms. Standing in the living room, I let him hold me around my waist for a second, but I shook my head wildly and nodded toward my daughter’s room. He grimaced, but wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his strong hands forcing me snug against his chest.

Aaron was so near, I pressed my nose against his shirt. He smelled
sooo
good, like a man with excellent grooming should. He smiled at me with encouragement. Kissed me twice right beneath my ear. His lips were wet. My knees buckled. I thought for a second, drew one finger to my lips, then grabbed his right hand and squeezed.

He shuddered, nodded. Obeyed, followed me. Once we were inside my bedroom, I locked the door. Aaron pushed his hands against me. I fell on my bed. While I lay there staring, I noticed Aaron’s manhood grow rock-hard against his slacks. The bulge looked as thick as a dill pickle sitting in a jar full of juice.

He climbed in bed with me. At first he crawled on top, but I entwined my legs between his like a human octopus and threw him on his back. We started kissing, sucking each other’s tongues and lips, and running our hands over each other’s body parts. I went for his chest and legs, he caressed my breasts and behind.

Kissing everything, lips, noses, cheeks, and eyelids.

“Mmmm, I missed you, A,” I whispered.

“Same here,” he whispered and then put his hands inside my panties, and rubbed between my legs. Patting softly, rubbing gently.

“Mmm,” I moaned and bit my bottom lip.

He stopped rubbing and stared at me, his mouth open.

“What?” I whispered, alarmed. I placed his hand back between my legs.

“Can I have some?” he asked in a voice so drenched with desire, no way I could say no.

First I listened for any sounds outside the door. Hearing nothing, I sighed real deep. My panties were saturated and felt uncomfortable. I removed my sheer stockings and panties, but kept on my coat dress. He unzipped his pants, pulled down his tan Joe Boxers. I stood up and went to lean against the far wall of my bedroom. Aaron planted wet kisses on my neck, then sucked on me like I was the last lollipop in a five-and-dime. When I stopped panting long enough to unbutton and open my dress, his lips abandoned my neck and started doing a number on my tingling breasts. After sucking my sensitive nipples right through the fabric, he had mercy on me and unlatched my bra, and resumed his oral dance on my bosom. Aching with extreme desire, I thrust my breasts against his eyes, nose, and mouth.

I felt irrational, but my desire urged me to keep going. Convincing myself this could be over in minutes and then Aaron could leave, I blocked all distractions from my mind.

I was so hot for Aaron. I felt an urging building inside my loins, my desire pulsating with great intensity. Hot became scorching. Our hands were fire. I caressed his firm muscles, tracing my fingers over his skin, rubbing him like he was my baby, but wanting him to be my man.

Once he rolled on a condom, he pulled up my dress and exposed all my desire. Then he entered me and kept thrusting and thrusting and jabbing me so hard that tears formed in the corners of my eyes. But I decided not to stop his flow, let him do his thing, and I got weaker and weaker, wanting to slide down the wall onto the floor. But Aaron held me up, lifting one of my legs and getting positioned just right, dead center inside of me. I could tell by all those horrid, agonizing faces he was making that he wanted to come and so did I, but our bodies remained latched together so tight you’d have to call in the love police to pull us off each other.

“Aaron?” I whispered.

“What?”

“Do me, go down on me
right now.
I’ve mowed my lawn.”

“Okay,” he whimpered.

I sprawled on the floor and parted my legs for Aaron like he was standing in front of the Red Sea. He bent over me, first placing sweet kisses on my stomach. Then he dove between my thighs and moved his way downtown. I could feel the heat of his breath on my pubic hairs, and even though I was already lying down, I still could have fainted at the thought of what he was about to do to me.

I was already wet, but once his tongue nuzzled me, licked, kissed, and sucked me like he knew the true value of a tongue, even more of my body’s juice squirted out.

“Ahhhh, oh my Lord,” I squealed, like I was in shock. He maintained a slow but firm pace, taking twenty minutes to build me up. I kept thinking,
Where is Lauren?
but then whimpered, “Ahhh, ooohhhhh, mmmmm.” I clutched both his ears like they were motorcycle handles and I was going for a wild and dangerous ride.

“Shhh,” he said, but I could feel my orgasm mounting.

Aaron’s tongue was like a precise paintbrush. His tongue probed deeper between my legs, slicking me, and flicking my most sensitive parts. Each stroke sent a wave of tremors through my body that felt so good I almost scraped the color off his skin. One final lick and I lost it.

“Ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh.” My screaming jumped five octaves. I
was
Mariah Carey, dammit. He cupped his hand over my mouth and widened his eyes like Gator in the movie
Jungle Fever.
When he heard the doorknob rattle, he jerked his head toward the sound. I was thinking,
What the door got to do with this? Don’t look at the door, look
at
me,
dammit.
That thang ripped through me so hard I started screaming inside his hand, wanting to sink my teeth into it. I twisted and turned and hunched my butt up and down as the orgasm tortured my body like flammable electricity. My legs thrashed and knocked against the floor, and I couldn’t believe I was actually crying, crying like someone had died, weeping like I was releasing a burden.

“Mom, are you okay?” we heard her voice slice through the door.

“Oh, hell.” Aaron sprung to his feet, sucking massive pockets of air, the color draining from his face while his eyes darted from wall to wall like he didn’t know where he was. He folded his penis inside his drawers. I wanted to get up but couldn’t. I was limp and damn near motionless, legs stretched east and west, mind woozy, my body still going through aftershocks as I fought to recover from what Aaron had just done to me.

“Mom?” she yelled louder.

“I’m okay,” I sniffed. I could only lift my head a couple inches before letting it drop against the floor.

Aaron sat next to me, looking like he needed written instructions. I wanted to laugh. Don’t know why I was so calm. Maybe it’s because I felt confident that a closed door would shield me.

She rattled the doorknob again. “Mom, I’m about to come in there.” Aaron dove headfirst under the bed. I struggled to stand, but flopped down on my butt with a pitiful “Ugh.”

Lauren opened the door, smiling and waving a butter knife.

“Aaron taught me how to break into locks like these,” she said.

There I was, sitting on the floor next to my bed, dress unbuttoned, tit-ties flopping, wearing no panties, sex milk dripping out of my body, my daughter’s ex-boyfriend inches away with both of his feet poking from underneath the bed, and I’m speechless while she’s smiling at me and wielding a butter knife.

Once Ms. Lockbuster stopped grinning long enough to see what she was looking at, time felt like it took a smoke break. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I don’t know if it was because she saw my private parts or because they saw her, but it sure didn’t matter at that point. Her eyes darkened, then she turned and faced the door.

“Mom, what’s that smell?” she called over her shoulder. “What are you
doing
?”

“Lauren, get out.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I just want to know what’s going on. Do you have company up in here?”

“I—I need you to leave, not just the room, but the apartment. Give me fifteen minutes and then you can come back. No more questions, just go.”

“Nasty thang,” I heard her mumble, and she left the room, slamming the door.

After Aaron crawled from underneath the bed, neither he nor I said anything for a good ten and a half minutes. I stared at the door, trying to regain normal thoughts and breathing.

I felt so ashamed, so out of control. I wondered if my lust was worth all the risk of trying to hide my ways.

Aaron zipped his slacks. Tucked in his shirt. I knew he wanted to get the hell out of there. His pacing and swearing told me that much. But he stooped next to me and caressed my shoulder.

“You all right, Trace?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

“You want me to leave?”

“Mmmm-hmmm. No, well, yeah, you need to—to go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You think it’s safe?” he asked.

“I don’t have the foggiest idea. I asked her to leave, but she may be nearby trying to see what’s up. Ain’t no telling. If she knows you’re in here, I can’t even imagine what’s going to happen. Damn!”

Aaron moaned. I felt like I’d wounded the two people I should have cared about the most. Blamed myself. I should learn when to say no and what to say no to. But I hadn’t thought long enough about what might happen. My heart felt heavy, swollen with regret. I didn’t want to lose Lauren, but I didn’t want to lose Aaron, either. Why did I have to choose between the two?

“Well, I don’t know where she is right now, but regardless, I’m about to break outta here. Going home. Need to think,” he told me, and made a move toward the door.

He didn’t wait for me to say my parting words. Just left. Hearing the door close, I froze, anticipating the sounds of despair, accusations or discovery of betrayal. But I heard nothing except the constant hammer of guilt inside my own heart.

I CLUNG TO MY ROOM FOR A WHOLE
lot longer than fifteen minutes. When I was finally courageous enough to poke my neck out the bedroom door, Lauren still hadn’t returned. I was relieved more than anything else. Still couldn’t find words to explain what had happened, and was becoming more confused by the minute. So I got dressed. Forget taking a shower. I hauled my funky and humiliated butt into the car and called Indira from my cell phone.

“Hello,” she answered.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, grimacing at how slimy my fresh underwear felt.

“Looking at BET movies.”

“Anything good on?” I asked.

“This movie called
Kappaccino
is airing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the movie about?”

“It’s a movie about this fraternity guy who writes a movie—”

“Indira, I hate to cut you short, but girl, can we meet right now?”

“Dang, don’t even give me a chance to . . . oh, I guess so. What’s up?”

I felt so selfish, but when you feel selfish, apathy is not far behind. I decided to give her my pitiful-sounding voice.

“I—I just need to talk to somebody
really bad.
I’ll even pick you up. No, no, could you meet me somewhere? What about, oh Jesus, how about that all-you-can-eat Chinese food joint right across from me? Southwest Freeway and Bissonnet?”