“Mama Dee, what’s going on?” I asked as I had a seat at the table.
“Nothing, I just raised a stupid child. I never seen a girl so smart, so intelligent in all aspects of her life, and so dumb in love.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Reggie cheated on my child again. They been married for all of four months. I told her to leave the house, but she want to sit and argue with him on the phone. Maybe she needs somebody her own age to talk some sense to her.”
“Well what’s going on now?”
“He’s trying to explain hisself. That bum cheated on her with some girl around the corner from where they live. She up there ready to fight the girl and I told her ain’t no man worth fighting over. They both said they didn’t do it, but she found e-mails and letters. I told her to pack her stuff and come move with me.”
I took in everything Mama Dee said and told her to order me an apple martini. Then I went outside and talked to Danny. I listened to Danielle go on and on about Reggie for fifteen minutes. She needed to realize Reggie was a cheater and she had to deal with it. She was going to have to leave or just deal with the situation and shut up. She said she was leaving him, but I knew she wasn’t. She came back to the table a little calmer. I was glad, because I wanted to tell on Dwight and talk about our problems.
“Mama Dee, I told your son to come home or I was going to divorce him.”
She turned to me and asked, “Why?”
“Because your son left his family at Disney World.”
“He did what?”
“We were having a really bad fight and he left, went back to Maryland. I can’t take him being up there anymore.”
“That’s why you don’t let your husband move away by hisself,” she said, turning to me. Then she turned to Danielle and said, “And you don’t keep taking a man after he cheats on you. You will both learn.”
“Mom, be quiet with your old-school rules, that don’t work anymore. Men are different today.”
“Times are not different. The rules don’t change. Men are men and only do what you let them get away with.”
“Well, I’m going to listen to myself, and I think I have a solution,” I announced.
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going to let Dwight go. I’m going to give him a taste of freedom.”
“A taste of freedom. So your marriage is crumbling now. And your solution is to leave him up there for more time. For how long? Are you crazy, girl?”
“Mama Dee, I’m going to leave him up there as long as it takes. It can take two months, six months. He will miss us and come home,” I said, agitated.
“That is kind of dumb, Tracey. You should just move up there,” Danielle added. I looked at her like
please don’t try to tell me what’s dumb
.
I spent the rest of the evening trying to explain my plan, but Mama Dee still didn’t get it. She said she wished me luck and Danielle kept redirecting the conversation back to her and Reggie. And it was becoming increasingly annoying, so it was time for me to leave.
On the ride home I thought long and hard about my options. I wasn’t listening to them. I knew my husband better than he knew hisself. I was going to bring Dwight home. I started “Operation Bring Husband Home,” and my mission was going to be successful. I realized we got married young and that might have been a mistake. Dwight just needed a taste of life without a family. I wasn’t making excuses, but that might be the reason for him acting crazy. Maybe he felt like he missed out on his freedom, being tied down with the same woman since fourteen. So I was going to give him his freedom and let him experience being a single man. I was not going to call him or bother him. I didn’t care how long it took. He would be back. I would break him. He would come home. I knew Dwight.
When Dwight called later that evening, I said, “You realize that we’re separated.”
He hissed, “Tracey, where are the girls?”
“Do you really care?” There was a long silence. I said, “Are you planning to come home this weekend?”
“Of course, Tracey.”
“Well, I think you should stay with Mama Dee or Danielle.”
I knew that would infuriate him. He wasn’t going to be here and there and have everything his way. I planned to make his visits as uncomfortable as possible. That way, he would want to find a solution fast. I was surprised when he sighed. “Okay, Tracey. If that’s what you think is best. It’s not a problem, as long as the girls are there, too.”
Alicia
A
fter weeks of cuddling and pretending I understood why we were waiting to have sex, I was tempted to rape Dwight. I sat at my desk instant messaging my friends about the dilemma. I explained the issues. I wanted Dwight to pressure me, but he assured me that he’d be ready only when he was sure about the destiny of his marriage. Under normal circumstances, I believe it’s better to just fuck and get it over with. If the sex isn’t good, there’s no need for him to stay around, but I felt different about Dwight. I wanted him and I wanted him bad, but considering he’d only had one sex partner in ten years, I was prepared for the worst. And unlike any other man in my past, I didn’t plan on leaving him if it wasn’t good.
As the girls coaxed me to be the aggressor, Dwight came to my desk and startled me. I quickly shut down my messenger window. He didn’t look fazed, as he only came to remind me that we had a meeting in a few minutes. We headed to the third-floor conference rooms and when we stepped into the stairwell, I made sure it was just the two of us. I said, “Babe . . .”
He frowned. I continued, “Do you ever imagine making love to me?”
“All the time.”
He put his hand on the door so we could exit into the corridor. I put mine on top of his and prevented him from turning the handle. I said, “I trust you. I trust you with my body. I don’t want you to worry about messing things up. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be.”
His eyes bugged out like he was scared. The space between us got smaller and smaller, my slacks rubbed his pants, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. “I want to make love to you.”
My words lingered as I swiftly turned the knob and strutted in front of him to greet our customers sitting in the third-floor lobby. He staggered behind, looking slightly confused. It was clear that he was used to being in charge, but he was moving too slow for me. Everyone gathered in the conference room and I rushed to the bathroom. While in the hallway, I sent Dwight a text message: i want to feel you inside of me. i want to spill out all over you.
When I entered the room, Dwight looked up at me. His eyebrows wrinkled and then he smiled. I could tell that he was turned on and he wanted to take me right there on the conference table, so I wrapped my thumb and my index finger around my can of Monster and slid them up and down. Sucking my bottom lip, I pretended to be into the meeting, and Dwight was tongue-tied and dumbfounded. I’d thrown him off guard. He tapped the back of his pen on the table nervously, but I kept my composure as I sent more seductive signals. When the meeting was over, everyone stood and Dwight remained seated. I chatted freely with the customers, casually winking at him when no one was looking. Finally, he was in a condition to stand. After we escorted the customers to the door, he said, “Do you want to leave now?”
I’d been ready to make love to him from the day we first lay in bed together, but his holding out forced me to fall for his personality. That scared the shit out of me. I sped behind him down the highway, headed to our destiny; there was no turning back. My adrenaline was racing and by the time we reached my house, my panties were drenched. He got out of his car first and I followed. I walked up to him and began reaching up his shirt and rubbing his mouth. When he tasted my goods on my fingers, he said, “You’re nasty. Were you playing with yourself?”
We rushed into my house. At the front door, we began ripping each other’s clothes off. We kissed and rubbed all the way to the bedroom. I grabbed a condom from my nightstand and he struggled to open the wrapper. My vagina was yelling for him to hurry up. Still, he fumbled. After seemingly forever, he pulled it out and tried to roll it on, and he tried, and he tried. Before the passion died, I snapped, “Just put it in . . .”
That’s exactly what he did and it felt so natural, so right, a perfect fit. Not too big, but not too small. My vaginal walls clamped onto him, holding him tightly as he glided in and out of me. My heart sank deeper and deeper with each stroke. I felt like a virgin all over again . . . not in the physical sense, but in the emotional: pure and free and open. I felt like I was in love, but I couldn’t explain how the player had fallen victim to the game. Or maybe I’d fallen for his lack of game, which made him a rare man, and which in turn made me a rare woman. I was the only woman he found worthy enough to stray on his wife with. So many thoughts whirled through my head that I neglected to bring out my A game. I simply moved my hips and submitted to his flow. Shit, I was supposed to be turning him out. Instead, as my heart pounded and I felt like I wanted to cry, for the first time in my life, I think I had been turned out.
Dwight rolled over beside me, and I stared at the ceiling. Tears of joy and satisfaction rolled from the corners of my eyes. He lifted up on his elbow and wiped my face. He said, “What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t know how I got here. Please don’t hurt me,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
I was laughing like hell internally, as he began to speak, “Alicia, I keep telling you that this is real. I like everything about you.”
Sniffing, I said, “But you’re married.”
“But we’re definitely on the rocks . . .”
“I just don’t want to keep falling for you and have to lose you.”
He didn’t respond and a strong feeling of anxiety came over me. I was no longer joking or pretending. I didn’t want to lose Dwight. He was a keeper.
Alicia
B
eing the mistress when the wife is in another state makes it more like the wife is the mistress. I never see him talk to her. He talks about his girls, so I’m certain they talk, but I never see. So, in my mind, she really doesn’t even exist. His marriage is just a figment of his imagination, considering he had practically moved in with me.
I sat up in bed and watched him sleep. I always wondered what he was dreaming, because he always had a partial smile on his face, which made me smile. I rested my head on his pillow and rubbed his chest. He put his arm on my arm and stretched. “You up?”
“Yes, baby,” he said.
We lay in silence, snuggling. It was the way we started our day, the calm before the storm. When the relationship started, we agreed that if it got hot and heavy, I would be the one to change jobs. I’d been on six interviews in less than two weeks. Dwight coached me through them, and I received an offer letter yesterday—more money and a better position. We enjoyed each other and we didn’t want to ruin it by working together too long. In less than two hours, I was about to turn in my resignation. I was afraid that I was disrupting my life without a guarantee. But as he caressed me so gently, I knew he was worth it, even if we were temporary.
Finally, I reached for the remote and he kissed me. “You okay?” he asked.
I nodded and turned on the television. During our second phase of morning intimacy, we chatted about everything, from gossip to gospel. This was something I never had. Everyone else was just a man. Dwight was more than a man. He was a damn Transformer; more than meets the eye.
It was always the way a man looked or the way he dressed or how much money he made or how many places he took me, but Dwight was different. It had all to do with his character. Nothing was surface with us. How could it be that all these years, I didn’t even know what I was looking for? This was the first relationship I’d been in since my college boyfriend that I could remember feeling so safe with expressing my emotions. The strange part is that I wasn’t protective of my feelings even though he had yet to really confirm that he wanted to definitely leave his wife. We were mentally building a life together and totally ignoring the life he left behind. I wanted to be smarter. I wanted to not love a man who belonged to someone else, but I was convinced that he would always honor my love no matter what.
Everyone knew why I was leaving. Optimus countered with more money and a more prestigious position and I declined. Dwight promised me that he was worth it. My mother always said not to play where I work and I never imagined I would. Since I was silly enough to get caught up, and really caught up at that, I had to be the one to leave. On my last day, they threw me a huge potluck luncheon. I was so tired of lying and explaining that I just needed a change, I didn’t know what to do. When it came time for my farewell, I was filled with emotions. I kept crying. It was harder than I expected. This is just why I try to avoid becoming emotionally attached. I wasn’t ready to leave, but I definitely wasn’t prepared to expose to the office that I was in love with a married man either.
Dwight helped me carry the boxes out to my car and he appeared to be skipping. I looked at him. “Are you happy to be getting rid of me?”
“Nah, I’m just tired of all the speculations.”
I smirked. “I guess you’re right.”
After he put everything in the car, I reached out for a hug. We swayed from side to side. I thought it was pretty bold of us and I pulled away. He kidded, “Look, it’s all good now. Who cares what they say?”
I shrugged. He was right. I’d been through this before, leaving a job, swearing to keep in contact, and believing my coworkers were my friends. After two weeks, they forget about you and you forget about them. They would eventually forget all about me and my speculated affair.
Later that evening, Dwight and I went out to dinner. We went to Oya on 9th Street in DC. The atmosphere is almost heavenly. White walls, white tables, white chairs. There was just a peaceful spirit swirling around us, joy rising in the smoke from the votive candles. We sipped bubbly as we cuddled in a corner booth. It was our coming-out celebration.
By the time we got home, my stomach had balled into knots. I’d either had too much champagne or my two-day-late period had arrived. When I went into my walk-in closet to grab my Always pads, Dwight hopped in the bed. “Hurry up, baby. You know I have to work in the morning.”