My Woman His Wife Saga (12 page)

When he walked in, Jasmine was sleeping quietly under the covers. James saw that she had fallen asleep with the television on because the house had to be pitch black and quiet for Jazz to get any kind of rest. She said it was so she could hear the kids, but James knew better. Smiling for a second at how beautiful his wife was, he had to wonder again how everything went wrong. They had been soul mates since day one. She gave him what he asked for without any questions, and never really gave him a reason to step out. The issues they had were minimal and could have been worked out had he been a little more patient with her.

Turning off the television and light and turning on the radio, James got into the bed and wrapped himself around his wife as sounds of Luther's “So Amazing” started to play from the radio. Jasmine snuggled up closer to him.

 

 

“Jazz, I'm so sorry I hurt you baby. I never meant to.” James was trying to control his tears as he talked to his wife. He knew she was no longer asleep because she was crying as well. He felt her tears splash against his arm. Baby, I know I messed up. I just need to you help me. I need you to be here for me. I can't do this by myself. You and the kids complete me.”

“James, it's okay. I'll never leave you, baby. I want this to work just as much as you do, but I need the truth. I need to know what happened when you left here. I need to know everything from day one.”

 

 

As the quiet storm played on the radio, James told Jasmine everything about Monica from day one, leaving out the money, the baby, and a few other details that he didn't think Jasmine could handle. He knew he was still telling lies, but it felt good to get some of the stuff off his chest. He was determined to be done with Monica and get his family back on track. Afterward they held each other until they both fell asleep, making promises to each other to work it out the best they could.

Monica had been in the hospital for three weeks trying to recover from the loss of her child and her near-death experience. James and Sheila didn't show their faces, and it was taking a toll on her mentally and emotionally. For the first time since Monica was a teenager, she truly felt alone in the world. In fact, ever since her mom had passed away—rather, since her mom's life was taken—it seemed as if no one in the universe cared about her.

Her depression only made her condition worse, and the doctors didn't see any sign of life in her outside of the healing of her body. All Monica did was cry day in and day out, and she wouldn't eat, so the doctors had her tube-fed so her body could get some type of nourishment. Her weight was at an unsightly low, almost making her look skeletal as she pitied herself for not taking the time to make things right in her life.

She slept most of the day, fighting off nightmares of her uncle and her sister's father molesting her as a teenager and the unforgettable incident from the tenth grade with Keith and his friends. Every man she cared even remotely about always ended up hurting her, breaking her heart.

Monica wallowed in self-pity day after day to the point where the doctor suggested she seek counseling so she could better deal with her anxiety and bouts of depression. Monica was falling apart at the seams, unlike the Monica that everyone knew.

On her last day at the hospital, after she signed up for therapy sessions and the doctor saw that she was eating and actually keeping her food down, Monica sat in her room thinking of ways to get her life back. She knew she had to get James and Sheila back because she felt like they abandoned her, and she also had to get Jasmine before it was too late. Monica was tired of sleeping alone, and she had to move fast if things were going to work.

While waiting for her discharge papers, Monica took her time putting on the new sweat suit and sneakers one of the guards purchased for her to go home in because the clothes she came in with were soiled. All he wanted was her number and dinner, and she obliged. Anything to get the overbearing, underpaid security guard out of her face.

Watching
Jenny Jones
on television while waiting for the nurse to come back, she almost fell off the bed when she saw Sheila walk through the door. Fixing her face to say something smart, Monica thought better of it, thinking she may need Sheila to help her later on down the line. Sheila came in with a small teddy bear and flowers, her facial expression showing how nervous she was in spite of her smile.

“Monica, I'm sorry I haven't been to see you. I've been so busy with . . .”

“Sheila, it's fine, no explanation is needed. I'm just waiting for my discharge papers so I can blow this joint,” Monica said as she turned her attention back to the television.

Sheila took note of how frail Monica looked. Placing the teddy bear and Monica's house keys on the bed beside her, Sheila took one last look at her before she turned to leave. Nearing the door, she turned the knob, not knowing what to do and kicking herself for coming up there in the first place.

Just as she was closing the door, she heard Monica call her name. When she looked back into the room, Monica was holding the teddy bear in her hands with tears in her eyes. Sheila waited at the door for her to speak.

“Thanks for coming up here. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble. Just get better soon,” Sheila replied and turned away quickly so Monica wouldn't see her tears.

Once Monica was sure Sheila was gone, she held up the teddy bear and took a long look at it. Ripping the head from its shoulders, she dropped both pieces in the can next to her bed. She continued watching her show as if nothing happened. She didn't need stuffed animals; she needed Jasmine, and that's all she was concerned about.

After signing her discharge papers, she walked out of the hospital and got into the waiting cab that was to take her home. The driver tried to make small talk, but Monica just stared out the window taking in the city, everything looking new to her. To her it felt like she was in the hospital for three years instead of three weeks. She couldn't wait to get home so she could lay down in her own bed and not the hard hospital one that she had been in.

Once the driver pulled up to her house, she paid him and exited the vehicle quickly so she could hurry up to her room. Upon entrance, she could smell the stale blood in the air from her recent loss. Avoiding the stained sofa, Monica all but ran up to her room, throwing herself on the bed in a fit of tears once she got there. She couldn't understand why things weren't going her way. She briefly thought about praying, but cast the thought aside after determining God wouldn't hear her for all of the dirt she'd done.

Drifting off to sleep once her tears subsided, she thought about ways of knocking James off quickly so she could finally have Jasmine to herself. The baby wasn't all that important to her, but if all else failed, Monica decided she would try getting pregnant again as a last resort. As bad as things were going, something had to give, and she hoped it would give soon.

Monica slept well until the next afternoon, the ringing phone waking her from her slumber. Upset about the interference of her much-needed sleep but glad to be awakened from the nightmare she was having, Monica answered the phone with a groggy voice lacking any type of enthusiasm. She thought it was still morning and wondered who would be calling so early.

“This better be good,” Monica barked into the phone as she struggled to sit up in her bed. She was still having slight pains in her abdomen, and it wasn't easy for her to maneuver around.

“You have a paid call from an inmate held in Muncy Correctional Facility. If you attempt to use three-way calling or any other features, this call will be disconnected. To accept this call, press three now,” the computer voice spoke into the receiver.

Monica glanced at the clock, realizing it was the afternoon, and wondered who got locked up and was calling for her assistance. She had just bailed her sister out only two months ago and hoped she wasn't sent up again. Her sister was a petty thief, and Monica was starting to think she preferred jail to having freedom. Pressing three, she spoke into the receiver ready to hear some member of her dysfunctional family beg for help.

“Who needs my help now?” Monica spoke into the phone once the call was connected. She didn't plan on helping whoever was calling, and was going to make this short and sweet.

“You seem to have forgotten about me,” the voice came through on the other end, sounding angry and ready to explode.

“I forgot about who?” Monica replied, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. She hadn't spoken to Tanya since the day she was sent up for her husband's murder almost two and a half years ago. Wondering why she decided to call now, Monica didn't hide her disbelief as they continued their conversation.

“After all we've been through you don't know who this is?” Tanya came through on the other end like she wanted to snatch Monica by her neck.

“I know who it is,” Monica came back with an attitude. She was over Tanya and didn't feel like the bullshit. What was Tanya going to do for her from prison? Besides, she had her eyes on a bigger prize and didn't plan on being distracted by anyone.

“Why am I still in here? You told me a couple of weeks, and that's it,” Tanya said, sounding like she was starting to cry. “I been in here for damn near three years waiting for you to get me out of this hellhole. What the fuck is the problem?”

“What do you mean what's the problem? I told you there would be some time served,” Monica came back with just as much attitude.

As far as she was concerned, she didn't owe Tanya shit. If anything, she did her a favor by killing her abusive husband. Who wants to live in fear every day for the rest of their life not knowing how their man was going to act when he got home? You can't be cute with a black eye and broken ribs. Ain't nothing sexy about it. Monica came to the conclusion that if she didn't kill him he would have killed her, and it's as simple as that. No, she didn't think about the situation she put Tanya's son in, but Monica was never good at looking at the big picture.

“So what am I supposed to do? I didn't tell on you because I thought you had my back. I thought you loved me,” Tanya screamed into the phone, her emotions getting the best of her, causing the other inmates to look in her direction. Even though she told herself she wasn't going to cry, she couldn't help it. She wanted out of the stone cage she was forced to be in, and she was ready to do whatever necessary to make it happen.

“What did I tell you about trusting people? Didn't I tell you no human was trustworthy? Didn't I tell you that
you
were the only one who had your back?” Monica shot the questions at her back to back, not giving her enough time to answer in between. “You come into this world alone and you leave alone. How many times have we had this conversation?” Monica was getting frustrated with the entire scenario and was about to hang up. Her main focus was Jasmine now, and she didn't want to hear shit Tanya had to say. When was the world going to understand that it was all about Monica and what made her happy? No one else mattered.

“So you just gonna leave me here?” Tanya said in a quiet voice, not believing the turn of events. She thought Monica was her soul mate, and thought about all the nights they were wrapped around each other, professing their never-ending love. The Monica she was talking to now was a complete stranger.

“Tanya,” Monica began, feeling kind of bad because she was the reason Tanya was in jail in the first place, “I'll make some calls in the morning and see what I can do for you, okay?”

“Monica, listen. I need to get out of here. I can't watch my son leave another visit. It's driving me crazy knowing that he's too young to understand. All he knows is he wants his mom. He cries every time he has to leave. Can't you understand the pain I'm going through?”

Monica began thinking about her own loss and the loss of her mother years ago. There were so many times when she needed to talk to her mom, but couldn't. So many times she wished she had a gun so she could stop her stepfather from beating her mom in his drunken state. So many times she begged her mom to leave, only for her mom to tell her it was okay as she limped to her room after being beaten nearly unconscious for reasons she didn't even know. So many times she wished she had the courage to stop him that one last time as she watched her mother's spirit leave her body, her attacker still kicking and punching her until she stopped moving.

Brushing back tears, she got herself together as she listened to Tanya's soft cries and her pleas to get her home to her son. All Tanya wanted was a second chance, and she needed Monica to help her get it.

“Tanya, please stop crying. I'll be there soon, and I'll make some calls for you today. I'll get you home, okay?”

Before Tanya could respond, her time had expired on the call and they were disconnected. Monica held onto the phone long after the dial tone had stopped, and the operator was instructing her to either hang up or make a call as tears stung her eyes. She didn't want Jasmine's situation to turn out the same as Tanya's, or worse. Calling up Judge Stenton, the same judge who presided over Tanya's case, she set up an appointment to meet with him in private so they could discuss a few things. He owed her a favor, and there was no time like the present to cash in on it.

James had been standing outside Monica's house for at least twenty minutes, several times resisting the urge to hop in his car and stay away forever. Hating to admit that he may be slipping again, he had called the hospital earlier just as he had for the past three weeks to check with the nurses to see if Monica was okay, not wanting to talk to her directly. He kept tabs on her progression the entire time, telling the nurses he was her brother from out of town.

Upon finding out that she was discharged, he took off from work early to check in on her and find out if she was still carrying the baby because he didn't have the heart to ask the nurse about it. Stopping to get soup and juice for Monica, he stood outside peering up at her windows, the sun relentless on his already chocolate skin. Finally taking a deep breath to boost his courage, he went up and knocked on the door, announcing his arrival to her home.

On the other side of the door, he could hear Monica racing down the steps. His heart beat just as quickly as her footsteps on the hardwood floor. Waiting in anticipation for her to open the door felt like an eternity; his voice came out weak and soft when she asked who was on the other side.

Monica took a step back, pausing before opening the door. James was just the person she was looking for, and she was prepared to read him the riot act for abandoning her the way he did. When she pulled the door open, James all but jumped back, gasping out loud at the woman standing before him.

Her cheeks and eyes were sunken in and her bones showed under the once tight shirt she was wearing, Monica looked like she had been binging on coke for the past couple of days. Gone was the sexy smile and mischievous eyes. Standing before him was a Monica he didn't recognize as a million questions flooded his head at once.

“Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you coming in?” Monica quizzed, frustrated that he caught her looking her worst.

Following Monica into the kitchen, he sat the contents in his hand down, taking a seat before his face became acquainted with the floor. James breathed heavily, trying to control the lightheaded feeling he was having. Monica leaned against the sink taking it all in, contemplating offering him a glass of water to ease his anxiety.

“So, James,” Monica said while examining her nails, “what brought you to this side of town? I thought maybe your fingers had been broken or you had amnesia.”

“It wasn't like that,” James began, deciding against telling her that he had checked on her every day while she was in the hospital. “I had to keep things tight at home. Maintain balance with my own family. You know how it is.”

“No, I don't know how it is! As you can plainly see, I am the only occupant under this roof. Or have we forgotten already?” Monica stated sarcastically, causing James to get on the defensive.

“Look, I didn't come here for all that . . .”

“Then what are you here for? To see if I'm still pregnant with your child?”

James didn't want to just bust out and ask her the obvious even though she had hit the nail right on the head.

“Monica, you need to slow the fuck down,” James said, all of a sudden feeling strong and taking Monica by surprise. “I heard you were out of the hospital, and I came to see if you were okay. I bought you some stuff so you wouldn't have to leave the house because I was concerned. I know you're not used to people caring about your well-being, but I can do without the sarcastic bullshit.”

“I just know you done lost your mind!” Monica stepped away from the kitchen sink and toward James like she was two seconds from pouncing on him and ripping his heart out his chest with her bare hands.

“You know what, Monica?” James said, backing away from the table and making his way to the front door. “This shit is for the birds. I don't want or need the drama!”

As he walked to the door, his one step equaling about four of Monica's, he could hear her playing catch-up behind him. Regretting turning his back to her, he hoped she wasn't running up on him with a knife or something. Monica had major screws loose, and he didn't feel like having to explain it to Jazz later. He was supposed to be at work anyway.

“James, wait,” Monica said as she came up behind him.

“What?” James said, still facing the door with his hand on the knob. He just wanted to know if he was going to be a father again or not. Anything else was irrelevant.

“I lost the baby. I don't know how happy that makes you, but it damn near killed me. That's all I had to keep you near my heart, the only thing I could call mine. Someone to finally love me,” Monica said through her tears. She didn't want James exactly, but knew that a child would give her unconditional love regardless if he was around or not. It would make her and Jasmine's family complete.

“All you would have done was caused problems. I don't need another kid right now, and even if you had kept it we still wouldn't have been together.”

“Who said it's you I want, James?” Monica said before catching herself. If James knew she was after his wife, he would never come back over.

“Then who do you want, Monica? I don't think you even know.”

Without continuing the conversation, he opened the door. The brightness of the sun blurred his vision for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the light. Monica stood in the doorway watching him walk away, not really feeling any remorse. She knew she looked a horrible mess, and that was the only reason James resisted her, but that wouldn't be for long. Closing the door and heading to the kitchen, Monica began making a feast as she calculated how she could get pregnant by James again.

 

 

Pulling up to the news station, Monica let the pimple-faced adolescent park her convertible after retrieving the picnic basket from the back seat. It was a nice fall day in The City of Brotherly Love. A slight October chill could be felt on her bare skin under the trench coat she wore, making her wish for a second that she had worn more than a thong and a garter belt. Placing her free arm across her chest, she pressed down against her erect nipples as she made her way into the building from the parking garage.

It had been a while since she'd seen James. The little scene at her house during his last visit played repeatedly in her mind as she worked at getting her appearance back to what it used to be. Her once sagging breasts were back to their perky selves, sitting at attention as they brushed against the underside of her soft pink trench coat.

Her hair was braided up in micros, set on straws with a flower on the side, giving her a carefree summer look even at this time of year. Monica's thigh-high boots peeked out of her trench coat every time she took a step across the marble lobby of The Urban News Network. Every eye was on her as she walked like a high fashion model, confidence dripping off her with lots left to spare.

When she reached the desk, the security guard was speechless as he sat looking in awe at the beauty in front of him. His erection was about to break his zipper.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Monica said to the flashlight cop in a tone only he could hear. “I'm visiting my husband in the engineering department and I don't want him to know I'm here. Is it possible for me to get a key to his office so I can surprise him when he walks in? His name is James Cinque.”

The guard couldn't answer; his tongue caught in his throat when Monica touched the side of his face, the front of his pants sporting a wide circle from his ejaculation. Passing her the keys, he couldn't take his eyes off her as she kissed him on the cheek, leaving her Revlon Passion Fruit mouth print on the side of his face. She walked slowly away from him, letting him take in all of her in as she boarded the elevator, opening her coat for him as the door was closing, giving him a frontal view of what he would never have.

The elevator took her to the eighteenth floor quickly; she stepped off the elevator thankful that no one got on as she came up. Finding James's office without a problem, she drew the blinds shut tightly so no one could look in. After she set up her candles and picnic lunch, she stretched out on the leather sofa in her outfit awaiting his arrival.

James, not paying attention to the sudden darkness in his locked office, opened the door, finally looking up at the scene. Noticing Monica mostly naked on his sofa, he closed the door abruptly, being sure to put both locks on.

“What are you doing here?” James asked, taking in Monica's smooth body stretched out before him. Gone was the skeletal Monica who was nothing more than a bag of bones the last time he saw her. What lay before him was a curvaceous ebony sister, thick in all the right places. This Monica was ten times better than the Monica before her skeletal state, her body radiating heat that he could feel from his spot at the door.

“Well,” Monica said as she opened her legs for him to see the crotchless thong she was sporting, the candlelight bouncing off her pierced clit. “It's been a while since the last time I saw you and I wanted to remind you of what you were missing.”

Getting up off the couch, Monica looked to make sure the mini-camera was on that she placed beside the picture of him and Jasmine he had hanging from the wall. Walking up to James, she began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing him on the neck in the process.

“Monica, what are you doing?” James came back trying to get some control over the situation, his manhood standing at attention and giving away his real thoughts.

“I'm letting you know what you've been missing.”

Sliding down to waist level, Monica unzipped his pants and pulled out his thickness, marveling at the evenness of his skin tone. Circling the head with the tip of her tongue first, Monica took just the head in. James leaned against the door for support.

“Monica, we can't do this,” James said weakly as the effects of the brain job he was receiving took effect. “I'm at work.”

“Then that means you'll have to be quiet then, huh?” Monica replied between kisses as she swallowed James up, his seed dripping from the sides of her mouth showing his excitement.

Pushing James over to the couch, he sat down with a thud, as Monica stood over top of him, holding him by his tie. Squatting down on his length, she moved slow and then fast, contracting her vaginal muscles around his shaft, causing him to explode inside of her almost immediately.

Monica being a pro, she kept him inside of her, working her muscles until he was stiff again, bouncing up and down on him like she was auditioning for a rap video. James held on to Monica's waist as he sucked hard on her nipples, adding to her pleasure. He reached between her legs and softly tugged on her clit ring until she threw her head back in pleasure. They climaxed together, evidence of their session all over his stomach and pubic area.

Monica got up and stepped away from him, bending over to remove all of their juices from his penis with her mouth, causing him to explode in the back of her throat one final time.

Allowing James to catch his breath, she stepped over to his desk and retrieved the chilled bottle of Moet she brought for their meal. Pouring the clear liquid into two flutes, Monica offered one to James, opting to remain standing in front of him. He didn't even bother to adjust his clothes, downing the champagne like it was spring water.

Finally daring a look at Monica, his length rose to the occasion again at the sight of her. He knew he was dead wrong, especially since he and Jazz had just made love that morning. Once again he didn't use protection, and that alone had him knocking himself in the head. Turning her back to him, Monica straddled James again. With his head leaned back against the sofa, he just enjoyed the ride, deciding to worry about the consequences later.

“James . . .” Monica moaned softly. Her body movement slowing down as her orgasm approached. “Can I cum, papi?”

Instead of responding, James pumped back harder, causing Monica to almost fall off him. Motioning for her to stand up, he stayed inside of her as he bent her over his desk, recklessly driving into her, trying to hurt her purposefully. Monica was staring at the photo of him and his family the entire time, in her mind replacing James's image with her own.

“Monica,” James said as he banged her back out like a madman, “make this your last time coming to my office. It's over, you hear me?” Monica took too long answering, so James drove into her harder, her breasts bouncing against the side of the desk.

“I said do you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you. Please . . . you're hurting me,” Monica came back, still surprised at James. He had never sexed her with so much intensity, and for once, she couldn't handle it.

Instead of stopping, James continued his barrage against her swollen cave, holding her up as her knees tried to buckle under her. Hitting it hard, he didn't pull out until he was about to explode, doing so all over her braids and back. Stepping away from Monica's crumpled form on the floor he stepped back into his clothes, afterward taking a sandwich from the basket.

“Have my office back to normal by the time I get back,” James threw over his shoulder as he gathered his keys and made his way to the employee shower room at the end of the hall.

Monica sat for a moment longer, gathering the feeling back into her legs. First disconnecting the camera and checking to make sure she had clear footage of what took place, she put what little clothes she had back on and straightened the office back up, leaving a sandwich and soft drink on his desk before exiting.

On her way out the door, she noticed Jasmine at the front desk talking to the old white lady that should have been there when she came in. Not wanting to be noticed, she walked quickly toward the side exit, tipping the still smiling guard on the way out, and then the valet as he pulled up in her convertible.