A Cold Piece of Work (28 page)

“But you, Solomon, you've always been straight up. So, I knew if you were straight up with me before, you would be straight up with her. That's why I've barely heard from you; you've been building this relationship. Last thing you need is to be frolicking around—emphasis on licking—with me. We did some wild stuff, but they're merely good memories now.

“I wish you the best.”

“Cheryl, you surprise me,” Solomon said. “I wouldn't have expected you to be so...understanding and helpful. You're a good person. I just...in this case...thought you'd—”

“You thought I'd be upset that you told me you didn't want to be tied down, but now you're tied down? It's hard for me to be
selfish when a man tells me that he's in love. I respect that and I wish you the best... If it doesn't work out, you know who to call.”

“Before we go, I have something else to tell you about this situation,” Solomon said. “I have a son. She—Michele—is the mother of my son.”

He went on to explain the circumstances of how he learned of Gerald and how they developed a bond.

“I hope you don't think I'm some sort of kook, and I don't even know the woman, but you and her were destined to be together,” Cheryl said. “Think about your history with her. There's something in me that tells me you and her will be all right. You have a family, Solomon.”

“I can't go that far,” he said. “We have a son together and some issues in a relationship. Other than that, I cannot say.”

“I've got to go, Solomon, but let me ask you this one question: Do you want more? Answer that question and you can tell—and determine—your future.”

No one asked Michele her thoughts on what she wanted with Solomon, but she had an answer: Everything.

Her cousin was right; her life had been far less than what she desired. She encountered men who lacked integrity, manners, depth…meaning they lacked overall appeal. Solomon, even with his borderline arrogance, still managed to be humble and chivalrous and thoughtful and passionate.

That last trait covered her like a rash that first night he left with Gerald. Suddenly, it came down on her, even amid her disappointment and confusion about him and their relationship, even after Sonya hung up on her in fury.

Michele lay in bed in total darkness and in heat. Her body craved his touch. She needed to feel his body, to smell his cologne, to hear his moans. All this was a first. A man had seldom pleased her to where the thought of him caused her the wetness she experienced that night.

It got worse as she could not stop her brain from revisiting their most recent encounter a few nights before. They went out to dinner at One Midtown Kitchen, near Piedmont Park. It was a slow Sunday night, and they posted up at the empty bar for cocktails and dinner and more cocktails.

That same sensation she had was over her at the bar. She asked Solomon to move his barstool closer to her, which he did. She leaned over and kissed him on his face, and he smiled, turned his head and kissed her on the lips.

“You're sexy,” he said.

“I feel sexy,” she said. “And horny.”

“Really?” Solomon responded. He reached over and began rubbing her thighs. She pulled up her skirt so she could feel his hands on her skin. The more he rubbed, the higher she pulled her skirt up, until he had his hand deep between her legs. She wore no panties.

He could feel the heat coming from her insides. “You
are
horny, aren't you?”

Solomon turned from Michele to see where the bartender was; she was at the other end of the bar talking to a co-worker. The few people in the restaurant had no clear visual of them. So, Solomon eased his hands closer to the heat, and Michele spread her legs, inviting him to enter her with his finger.

He did, and the warm moisture in her covered his middle finger like lava. He slid his finger in deeper, rotating it, and Michele momentarily forgot where she was and threw her head back.

“Oh, God,” she said.

She composed herself, but they were so lost in their pleasure moment that they did not see the bartender walk down to check on them. Before he could pull out, she was standing there, so he kept his finger in her and they acted, as best they could, as if everything was perfectly normal.

“No, we're fine right now,” Solomon said to her.

“Maybe in a few minutes we'll have another drink,” Michele managed to get out.

“Okay,” the woman answered. “I'll check on you shortly.” She went back to the end of the bar. And they went back to what they were doing. Finally, the awkward position caused Solomon's arm to ache, so he dislodged his finger from her hotness.

“Oh, my God,” Michele said. “I need some water.”

“You need to meet me in the bathroom.”

“What?”

“They have individual bathrooms here. We can go in there. I can't wait to get home; I need to feel you now.”

Michele did not offer any resistance. The suggestion actually excited her. They finished their drinks and some appetizers and paid the bill. Then they walked around the wall on the opposite side of the dining room to the bathroom.

“I'm going in first,” Michele said. “Then I'll call you to come join me.”

Solomon took a seat in the small waiting area; a minute later, he heard his name.

He entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Michele leaned on the counter and pulled up her skirt, exposing her round ass. Solomon dropped his pants swiftly and pulled out what Michele affectionately called his pulsating “injection stick.”

He slowly injected Michele, and her moans grew louder the deeper he got. She bounced back and forth, taking as much as she could, and he countered by thrusting forward to the same rhythm. They watched each other in the mirror making love and at one point laughed at the faces such pleasure produced.

She bent over lower, to receive more of him, and he widened his stance to get deeper. They were trying to be as quiet as possible, but Solomon could not resist the urge to smack Michele on her ass, which she loved.

After nearly ten minutes of nonstop stroking, Solomon was dripping in sweat—and ecstasy—and climaxed with a force that pushed Michele almost into the sink. Still, he continued to stroke her, even as his legs weakened.

“You're crazy,” she said as they cleaned up. “Look at what you have me doing. I'm going to tell my momma.”

They laughed.

“Tell your daddy,” Solomon said. “I'm sure he'll be glad to hear about this.”

They laughed some more. Solomon fixed his clothes and peeked out of the bathroom to make sure no one was there. Michele came out a few minutes later and they walked out of the restaurant into the warm night air, feeling exhilarated.

That recollection caused Michele a restless night. Not only because it was so on fire, but also because it forced her to think about a man in ways she had not. She had told her book club members about how good, consistent sex had changed her life.

She wondered in the darkness if she could go back to living without it. And that fed right into her lack of confidence about her instincts. Was it shallow to build a relationship around amazing sex? Was she even doing that?

Michele had always thought of sex as a natural part of a relationship, not a necessity, which spoke to something significant: no one had ever really pleased her in bed. So, other things mattered more: financial security; honesty; ambition. But she made the hard admission to herself that if the sex was not banging, she'd be tempted to search for the bang.

I can't even believe I'm saying this, even if it is to myself,
she thought. Then she thought,
If I can't be honest with myself, then who can I?

The answer was her cousin, Sonya. That was another reason she was restless. Although it was nearly two in the morning, she called Sonya, who was more like a sister. Having her upset was something that did not digest well for Michele.

In a sleepy voice, Sonya answered her phone saying, “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry, cousin,” Michele said. “I know you love me and are
looking out for me. I really didn't mean to offend you. Also, I'm not kissing your ass.”

Sonya could not help but laugh.

“What are you doing up, girl? What time is it?”

“I'm tormented. Solomon is tormenting me,” Michele said.

“How? What's he doing? He's there?” Sonya asked.

“No, he's home with Gerald,” she answered. “But he's also here with me, in my bed; if you know what I mean.”

Sonya was puzzled for a moment. “Oh... OH!!” she said finally. “Okay, I get it.”

“I need it, Sonya,” she said. “This isn't the first time in my life that I've been horny. But since I've been with him, it's the first time I specifically wanted a particular man. Before, it was just that I would like to have been touched and seduced by a man. Or maybe Denzel, but he doesn't count. With Solomon, I have these experiences I can draw from that are driving me crazy.”

“Why don't you call the man?” Sonya suggested. “Simple solution.”

“I know,” Michele said. “But I can't do that. Not right now. Maybe I'm delaying the inevitable, but I'm not sure how I feel about all this stuff that has taken place.

“He's mad at me. I didn't tell him I was once married and he said I think he's an abuser. I'm mad at him because he beat my son, first and foremost, and he smacked this woman.

“He's not giving in and I'm not giving in. So I don't know where that leaves us.”

Where that left her was home alone; a lot. Solomon was just as stubborn and just as adamant about his position. So, even though he missed Michele, he refused to call her or have any contact with her.

He put Gerald in the middle of communication with Michele,
having his son tell his mom when his dad would pick him up from school and spend time with him on weekends. Their bond grew despite Solomon's absence from Michele's life.

The kid was too young to notice that his parents had not been in the same room together for nearly a month.

Every day, they both hoped the other one would crack; give in and make a phone call or send a text that would restart their relationship. But they were equally yoked when it came to stubbornness.

Solomon surprised himself; he did not go on a woman-chasing spree. Rather, he worked, played golf, spent time with Gerald and generally made himself available should Michele call him.

“Mexican standoff,” he told one of his college friends, Kenny, who visited for a weekend from Charlotte.

“While you're standing off, you don't have to stand still, playa,” he said to Solomon. “I ain't come here to listen to you moan about your girl. I came here to get in the mix, see what I can come up with. So, where the hell we going?”

It was a Friday night, so there were plenty of options. Solomon decided on The Lobby Bar at the 12 Hotel at Atlantic Station. It was a lively spot with a live band and a vast collection of fine women.

“This is what I'm talking about,” Kenny said, heading to the bar while observing all the beautiful available female talent. By the time Solomon returned from the bathroom, Kenny was holding court with four women. That was his way. He was shorter than six feet and plump, good-looking but not striking. He had a personality that drew people in. He was loud and inviting. You would either appreciate it or be offended by it. Kenny hardly cared, either way.

“Hey, you lucky I'm hanging out with you,” he said to Solomon
as they girl-watched. “I usually don't hang with tall, good-looking guys. What I need competition for?”

Solomon laughed. “You know you're stupid, right?”

“I'm just saying,” Kenny added. “I'm short, going bald and fat. Just like big girls need love, so do guys like me.”

One of four ladies he chatted up earlier waved for Kenny to come over to their table to the left of the bar and up against the floor-to-ceiling window. She did not have to wave twice.

“I love the A-T-L,” Kenny said to Solomon. “I don't know how you live here, talking about you have a girlfriend. Gimme a break… Come on.”

Kenny quickly headed over with Solomon reluctantly in tow. The woman thanked Kenny for the cocktail he paid for and he introduced Solomon to the gang. Solomon instantly caught the attention of one of the women—Wanda.

“What's your name again?” she inquired. “Solomon?”

Before he could answer, Wanda said, “King Solomon; that's a character from an August Wilson play, ‘The Gem of the Ocean.' Did you know that?”

“I know it's from The Bible,” Solomon said. “I know that first. But as a matter of fact, I actually saw the play. The character was mostly called ‘Solly Two Kings.'”

Wanda looked Solomon up and down. She thought:
A man who not only went to the theater, but he also appreciated the play enough to have paid attention.

“Where's your drink?” she asked.

The women had made room for Kenny, who took an unoccupied chair from another table to sit at their table.

Clearly, the drinks had loosened Wanda's tongue.

“I don't see a wedding ring,” she said to Solomon. “Does that mean you're single or just not wearing your ring?”

“Not married,” he said, “but not single.”

He surprised himself with that response. He had not talked to Michele in a month, but did not identify himself as available to an attractive woman who clearly had an interest in him.

Wanda, meanwhile, whose shiny lipgloss accentuated her lips to where they looked quite kissable, seemed to ignore Solomon's answer. Her complexion was just about the same as Michele's and she appeared to tote a desirable body from where she sat. For sure, her legs that stretched to the side of the table in front of her were long and shapely.

Solomon told himself to enjoy the moment, the adulation. A good-looking woman had interest.
Embrace it
, he thought.