Insatiable (8 page)

K
ai played her messages. There were six from LaVella, each plea sounding more desperate than the one before. She listened to the pathetic babbling and choking sobs, hearing clearly only the plaintive wail at the end of each message: “Come on, Kai. Don’t do me like this! I really need to talk to you. So call me, okay? Please!”

Just thinking about LaVella’s fleshy face buried in her sweaty, odiferous groin, gave Kai sadistic pleasure mixed with a mild case of the willies. What perverted demon had possessed her to dally with someone as unsophisticated and physically unappealing as LaVella? And she must have totally taken leave of her senses to have given her home number to a potential stalker. After three days of leaving numerous unanswered messages, the average person would stop calling, but LaVella just wouldn’t take a hint. What a desperate pest!

Kai promptly pushed the numbers that would block LaVella’s future calls.

A stabbing hunger pang reminded Kai that she hadn’t eaten all day. She studied the menu of the take-out Japanese restaurant down the street. What was she in the mood for—tempura, chicken teriyaki or sushi? Her frustration told her that she was in the mood for all three dishes.

There would be a forty-five-minute wait for delivery, so she poured herself a glass of Kirin beer and ran bath water, pouring in a generous amount of an expensive bath oil—a souvenir from her parents’ most recent trip to Paris. Recalling her mother’s advice to use only a droplet of the rich bath oil at a time, Kai smiled devilishly and shook out a generous amount.

A half-hour later, she emerged from the bathtub shimmering from the expensive bath oil and slightly tipsy. She threw on a hooded cotton sleep shirt. Famished and missing the hell out of Kenneth. She poured herself more of the Japanese beer. With each sip the yearning and emptiness intensified. Without giving it a second thought, she reached for the telephone and pressed the digits to Kenneth’s pager.

A few minutes later, the phone rang. Kai grabbed it on the first ring.

Damn! It wasn’t Kenneth; it was the delivery person, announcing the arrival of her food.

Moments later, Kai lifted the plastic lids from three entrees which consisted of a delectably exotic combination sushi platter, crisp golden shrimp and vegetable tempura platter, as well as aromatic chicken teriyaki over rice. She studied the colorful arrangement that comprised the feast spread before her and deliberated on which delight to sample first.

Lovingly, she toyed with each entrée and imagined the soothing balm, which would overtake her on the first bite. Deciding that she needed to start off with a bang, Kai used her finger to pile a heaping portion of wasabi atop a piece of yellowtail tuna. Taking a bite, she endured the searing assault to her sinuses as the burning sensation shot to the top of her head. Mmm, such sweet pain.

As she placed a sliver of pickled ginger on her tongue, enjoying the tingling sensation, her mind drifted to Kenneth. He didn’t care for raw fish but always indulged her cravings, sitting with her for hours at the sushi bar of her favorite Japanese restaurant.

He used to delight in hand-feeding her each piece—groaning as she licked the wasabi or teriyaki sauce from his fingers—right there in the restaurant—for all eyes to see. The musing was vivid; it aroused her, but being aroused with no available dick left her feeling hollow and agitated.

A shadow fell over Kai’s face; more than enough time had passed for Kenneth to respond to her page. Why was he going to such lengths to punish her? He’d never remained angry for such an extended period. What had she done that had been so unpardonable? Was it that silly photo she’d attempted to send his wife? It couldn’t be—he’d intercepted it. Or was it the subsequent petty argument on the phone? No, Kenneth wasn’t overly sensitive. Besides, he knew she hadn’t meant any of the hurtful things she’d said. Perhaps he was still holding a grudge because of their encounter in the restaurant? Maybe his date—Ms. Back-to-Africa was offended by their public display of affection. Yes, that’s it, Kai rationalized. She must have severely berated him after having witnessed his and Kai’s lover’s spat. No one could deny that the passion they had exhibited obviously meant they were deeply, profoundly in love. Of course! And, the conniving Nubian whore probably threatened to withhold sex. Now, Kenneth was punishing her to make that wooly-headed bitch happy. He’s trying to prove that he doesn’t love me anymore so he can keep fucking that black whore.
But, my darling

Kenneth, we both know something she doesn’t. You do love me, you will always love me, and there’s nothing she or anyone else can do about it. And that is emphatically that!

Kai smiled wistfully, comforted by the newfound revelation.
Don’t you worry, Kenneth; since you can’t control your new dick licker you leave me no choice but to take care of the situation for you—for us!

Pleased with her deductive abilities and relieved to have found a culprit she could blame for Dr. Harding’s neglect, Kai relaxed and gradually returned her focus to the massive meal before her. As she glanced around the table, a frown of incomprehension began to form. She was stunned. Every single morsel had disappeared!

Where the hell is my dinner?
she whispered with genuine disbelief. The gradual realization of an aching pain in her distended stomach gave her the only plausible answer to the question. She had eaten three entire platters of food and had no conscious awareness of doing so.

Kai’s anger swiftly returned.
Goddamn you, Kenneth; just look what you and your slut made me do! How dare you treat me like yesterday’s trash for the sake of that Swahili-speaking slut? The sheer gall of that woman manipulating my Kenneth!

Needing release from the growing rage inside her, Kai grabbed an empty container. Wishing it were Kenneth’s head, she flung it against the wall. The violent act gave her instant, however, momentary gratification. She required a prolonged fix, thus one-by-one she cleared the table: containers, platters, utensils all crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. Kai was filled with glee until she noticed the vile multicolored residue from the containers had splashed against her pristine white walls leaving nasty streaks as the muck slowly made its way to the tiled kitchen floor.

She looked at the mess. Repulsed, she looked away, refusing to lift a finger to clean it. Matilda would have to do it. Matilda, her parents’ cleaning woman was on loan to Kai once a week—every Wednesday. But it was Sunday night and looking at that gook for the next two days was entirely out of the question.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain and a wave of nausea overtook her. Kai clamped both hands over her mouth. She bent over and ran like hell for the bathroom.

She’d barely made it into the bathroom before she was projectile vomiting chunks of undigested food all over the Italian marble floor. Falling hard onto her knees in front of the toilet she managed to lift the toilet seat. With her face buried in the bowl, Kai hugged the rim while her body convulsed violently.

After what seemed an eternity, her regurgitation ceased, but she didn’t dare rise until the gagging dry heaves had subsided. Kai crawled over to the pedestal sink, then slowly, unsteadily pulled herself to her feet. The acrid taste of bile filled her mouth and burned her throat. Panting and holding onto the sink for balance, she lifted her head to peer at the reflection in the mirror. She was horrified by the ravage that had been done to her face. A vomit-smeared, swollen-faced, bloodshot-eyed, snotty-nosed monster was looking back at her. Shrieking, Kai jumped into the shower fully clothed, turned on the pulsating heads and began to strip as the cleansing water washed over her.

Feeling refreshed and looking—thank God—more like her beautiful self, she snatched the phone from its base and called the front desk of her apartment building.

“This is Kai Montgomery.”

“Yes, Ms. Montgomery, what can I do for you?” asked the clerk in a crisp tone.

“Is the maintenance man still on duty?” she asked hopefully, picturing the new Puerto Rican maintenance man she’d seen earlier. He was a buffed cutie and they’d made eye contact in the lobby earlier that evening. She hoped he was packing what she needed. Some men tended to build muscles to compensate for what they were lacking between their legs. But the sexy Puerto Rican had a confidence that told her he was more than capable of easing her tension.

“Is there an emergency, Ms. Montgomery?”

“Yes, would you please send the maintenance man to my apartment immediately?”

“What’s the nature of the emergency?”

“I don’ believe that’s any of your business.”

“I have to keep a log of all repairs; I can’t just send someone up there without…”

“I see. This is a race issue, isn’t it?” Though she didn’t consider herself as being African American, she pulled the race card when necessary.

“Of course not, madam.” The man sounded genuinely offended. “There’s just one person on duty and he’s here to maintain the aesthetic appearance of the building. He’s not licensed to make repairs, but I can make a note of your request…”

“I pay nineteen hundred dollars a month to live here and I expect to be treated with the same respect you give the white occupants of this supposedly posh building.”

Kai paused and sighed heavily. “What’s your name?”

“Stewart,” he said in a nervous, barely audible voice.

“I don’t appreciate this inquisition, Stewart. Do I need to speak with your supervisor?”

“No, I regret the inconvenience, Ms. Montgomery,” Stewart sounded sincerely contrite. “I’ll send the maintenance man to your apartment immediately and I’ll just make a note that there’s a clogged drain in your kitchen sink.”

“Whatever,” Kai sighed, faking exasperation. She was actually quite giddy; the throbbing sensation between her legs would be soothed in a few minutes.

She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the cute Latino. There’d be no small talk; she wouldn’t even pretend there was a clogged drain in her apartment. Kai was certain that the moment she opened the door, he’d drop his useless plunger and pull out the tool she really needed. She needed something thick and long-lasting to unclog her drain.

Dabbing French perfume (another hand-out from her parents’ Parisian vacation) at her pulse points, Kai stared into the mirror and decided to rearrange herself. She changed from the sleep shirt to a very provocative lace slip with spaghetti straps. She fluffed up her hair and loosened one thin strap, allowing it to fall seductively onto her shoulder.

As she practiced striking a progression of inviting poses, there was a soft, timid tapping at her door.

Feeling predatory, Kai moistened her lips with her tongue and crossed the room to admit the sexy stud.

“Evenin’, ma’am, I’m Howard. You got a clogged drain?”

She thought her eyes were deceiving her as she stared mutely at the puffy-faced, middle-aged white man who stood in her doorway holding the tiniest plunger she’d ever seen. He regarded her with disinterested eyes that were red from lack of sleep or too much drink.

“Where’s the Hispanic guy?” she finally inquired, miffed.

“Off. He got off at ten,” the man stated with a finality that caused Kai’s heart to sink.

Can this night get any worse? No Kenneth, no Latin lover. No dick. Nothing…except a trashed kitchen and a disgustingly befouled bathroom!

Being dealt lemons, she decided to make some lemonade. “Come with me.” Kai led the lumbering man to the kitchen.

“What the heck happened in here? I don’t do this kind of work…looks like you’re gonna need Housekeeping. They’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

Ignoring his protests, Kai turned and led him toward the bathroom. “Follow me. There’s another problem that requires your expertise.”

The handyman reluctantly followed looking longingly at the entry door. Kai stood beside the bathroom door waving a hand at the revolting sight. “My toilet overflowed…when you’re finished in the kitchen you can clean this up, too.”

Howard stood transfixed as he absorbed the horrific sight and what he had been asked to do. “Look, ma’am. I’m a handyman…not the clean-up man. This ain’t part of my job description. I can’t help you here.” Howard turned to leave.

“Look at me, Horace…Huey or whatever the hell your name is. Take a good look at my face and tell me something. Do I look like the type of individual who gives a good goddamn what kind of
man
you think you are or what is or is not your fucking job? Just clean this shit up!”

Howard kept walking.

Incredulous, Kai screamed, “Do you know who I am? I’ll have your job, you insolent bastard!”

Never breaking his stride, Howard responded, “Take a good look at my back, ma’am, and tell me if you think I give a shit.”

Kai streaked to her bedroom, flung herself across the antique cast-iron bed and screamed into her pillow. Unwilling to endure another moment of such a miserable night, she sat up, reached for the bottle of pills on her nightstand and shook out a blue Xanax—and then another. Nights like tonight required two of those blue boys. She gulped down the pills, propped herself up with two fluffy pillows and enjoyed the palpable sensation of her tense body relaxing.

Tortuous thoughts flitted away and her mood was brightened by an image of Kenneth making passionate love to her in broad daylight on the private beach of some Caribbean island.