MadameFrankie (12 page)

And now he was howling. Fucking and howling. Bucking and
sweating. And she was shimmying and damp with her juices.

Suddenly they came, hollering and squealing. And as
suddenly, they collapsed in each other’s arms. They were spent and fulfilled
beyond their wildest expectations.

They had both missed this. They were both determined not to
miss it anymore.

And yet, there was still the matter of Edgar.

“What about Edgar?” Frankie asked, snuggled in his arms.

“Are you still gonna see him?”

“You said you were open-minded.”

“Even an opened mind has its limits, Frankie. I mean, I
don’t know if I can handle you laying up with another man.”

She turned to him in his arms and scooted up to him, looked
him in the eyes, on an equal level.

“I love you, Jazz,” she stated simply. “And I love Edgar.”

“And I love you.”

“And he loves me. Would I give you up for him? No. Would I
give him up for you? No.”

“Wow,” was all he could say as he got up from the bed,
slipped the condom off and tossed it in the wastebasket next to the bed. He
walked to the curtained window and peeked out at the bright full moon, his
naked back to her, his hunky ass to her.

She stared at what Edgar had called Jazz’s “masculine
beauty”. She got up from the bed and joined him at the window. She wrapped her arms
around his waist and kissed his sturdy shoulder, caressed his flaccid penis.

“What happened to the Creole from New Orleans with the
hippie stoner parents?” she chuckled lightly.

“Not funny, Frankie.”

She turned him around to her. “You know there is a solution
to all of this.”

“And what’s that?”

“We can all be together.”

“What do you mean?”

“The three of us. You, me and Edgar.”

“You mean a
ménage a trois
?”

“Why not?”

There was nothing else for him to say. He walked back over
to the bed and dressed in silence. He then went to her and stared once again
into her eyes. He kissed her.

“Goodbye, Frankie,” he said. And left.

The next morning Ella Caldwell came down the staircase
rejuvenated by her wonderful night with Kunal. She was looking forward to
seeing him later on in the afternoon.

She was stunning and sexy in her white halter-top and white
Daisy Dukes and she knew it. She knew she looked as good as she felt as she
crossed the lobby to the outdoor patio.

Breakfast was being served under the shade of swaying palm
trees. She spotted Frankie alone at a corner table, having coffee and reading a
magazine through dark sunglasses. She couldn’t resist.

“Frankie?”

Frankie looked up from her magazine and over her glasses.
She smiled. “Good morning, Ella.”

“May I?” Ella asked, indicating the empty chair across from
Frankie.

“Please.”

“What a coincidence,” she said, sitting.

“What?”

“Jazz. You. Here. Me.”

“Oh yes,” Frankie sighed politely.

“We worked together on the presidential campaign. Can you
believe it?”

“He told me last night.”

“I mean he used to talk about you all the time. Of course I
knew you from TV, but to hear him go on and on and on. Every girl on the
campaign was hot for him and a whole lot of guys too. But he only had eyes for
you, diva. You really had that boy whipped.”

“Obviously not whipped enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. So are you enjoying your stay here?”

“Absolutely. Kunal is the best.”

Marcos approached the table. “
Buenos días, Señorita
Caldwell.”

“
Buenos días
, Marcos.”

“Would you care to order breakfast?”

“Yes, I’ll have what you recommended yesterday.”

“
Mangu
with fried cheese, salami with egg fried
soft?”

“Exactly. That was lovely. Oh and coffee.”

“Muy buena.”
He smiled. “Frankie,
su comida estará
listo muy pronto
.”

“
Gracias
, Marcos.”

As Marcos walked away, Frankie took off her sunglasses and
stared out at nowhere in particular. Ella noticed her distance and her slightly
bloodshot eyes.

“Are you all right, Frankie?”

“Hmmm?” she said, pulling a bit out of her daze. “Just a
little tired. I was up pretty late last night.”

“I bet you were,” Ella purred slyly.

Marcos returned with Ella’s coffee and set it before her.

“Gracias.”

“De nada.”

When Marcos left there was an eerie silence between the two
ladies.

“Listen, Ella,” Frankie finally said, looking at her
tablemate. “I know we don’t know each other very well. But with all the time
you spent with Jazz, you probably know him a lot better than I do.”

“Oh no, no, no, Frankie. If you think Jazz and I—”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She cleared her throat.
“You see, months ago Jazz asked me to marry him…I said no. Last night was the
first time seeing him since I turned him down. I don’t think last night went
very well.”

“What happened?”

“I still don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry
anyone. And I think he knows that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’ve always thought of him as a very honest person.”

“So do I.”

“And I’ve always thought of him as someone who respects
honesty in others.”

“I think you’re absolutely correct.”

“Am I?”

“I really do believe so.”

“Well I was being perfectly honest with him when I spoke to
him last night.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him I wanted an open relationship.”

“Oh,” Ella said, processing it. “What did he say?”

“He said he wasn’t sure about that.”

“Okay.”

“But I took it a step further.”

“Oh?”

“I told him I wanted a threesome.”

“Really?” Ella asked with a curious smile.

“Yes.”

“You, him and another woman. Actually, that could be quite
hot.”

“No. Him, me and another man.”

“Oh,” Ella responded with a tad of confusion. Then it all
settled in. “Ahhh,” she smiled with a wider smile.

* * * * *

Jazz had tossed and turned all night long. When he did
finally manage to fall asleep, he was racked with one nightmare after another.
The vision of him in bed with Frankie and another man, the sight of their
three-way sexing frightened him.

Throughout the night, he tore himself awake and away from
the daunting visions of sharing his woman, of sharing himself with someone
else. This was the woman he wanted to marry, not be in an orgy with.

He had already conceded the marriage thing. The ring had
been returned to the jeweler. His heart had been resigned to them being with
each other without belonging to each other. He was willing to compromise in the
name of love. But what Frankie was asking, demanding, was too much for him.

And yet, was she really demanding? Was there room in her
request for compromise? Was the shock of what she wanted so great that it made
him walk out on her without a thorough conversation about it?

Okay. So she owns a brothel. Fine.
The life-long
liberal side of him always believed prostitution should be as legal in America
as it was in the Dominican Republic.

So his lady was a madame.
But is she really?
Prostitution in the DR was only legal between consenting adults with no third
party participation. Pimping was a crime. Frankie made it clear she received no
parts of money exchanged between her guests and their guests. She only rented
rooms and checked ID’s.

She was still having sex with Edgar. And she loved him. Both
of those situations disturbed him deeply.

But Jazz knew she loved him too. And an open relationship
with Frankie was better than no relationship with Frankie. Maybe he would have
to learn how to live with that.

But a threesome? That was a deal-breaker. He just couldn’t
do it. He just couldn’t.

It was noon when he finally pulled himself out of bed. He
ordered room service, showered and got dressed. He then headed over to
Casa
de Mita
. He owed Frankie an apology for walking out on her last night.

But she also needed to know how he felt.

Jazz arrived in the lobby of
Casa de Mita
at half
past two. He was suddenly nervous and slightly apprehensive. Behind the
reception desk was a man working at the computer on a counter against the wall.
He approached the man and cleared his throat.

“Perdóneme por favor,”
he said.

The man turned around to him.

“Hola,”
the man said, approaching Jazz, suddenly
smiling a familiar smile.

Jazz recognized him immediately. It was the man who smiled
flirtatiously at him on
El Malecón
near the flower cart, the stranger in
the night.

“Hola,”
Jazz said.
“¿Está Frankie aquí?”

“No, mi amigo,”
the man said never losing his
familiar smile. “But she will be back soon. She is picking up guests from
el
aeropuerto
.”

“Gracias,”
Jazz said.

“De nada,”
said the man.

As Jazz walked away to the other side of the lobby, he could
still feel the man’s eyes on him. He turned and sat on the lounge sofa. Their
eyes met. The man nodded politely, then returned to his computer.

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour.”

Jazz turned and looked up toward the distracting voice.

“Hey Ella,” he said, beginning to stand.

“Sit,” she insisted. She joined him on the sofa.

“You look very…provocative,” he said, taking note of her
halter top and Daisy Dukes.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

“It’s just that I’m so used to seeing you so buttoned up.”

“Those were my work clothes. These are my play clothes.”

“I see,” he said, smiling at her sass.

“You know, I still can’t get over running into you down
here, Jazz.”

“Yeah, I know. So you come here a lot?”

“I’ve been here a few times.”

“I have to say, El, I am a little surprised.”

“Surprised at what?”

“I mean, back on the campaign trail, I remember you
mentioning coming down here a few times. But I just didn’t imagine you
coming…here.”

“Well I’m sure there’s a lot you can’t imagine about me,
Jazz.”

“I guess so.”

“Just like I’m sure there’s a lot you can’t imagine about
Frankie.”

“You got that right.”

“She was a nun to millions of television viewers. Now she’s
a madame to a chosen few. Talk about divine irony. God, you gotta love a lady
like that.”

“Yeah, well she’s certainly…provocative.”

“You like that word, don’t you?”

“What word?”

“Provocative.”

“So how did you find out about this place?” Jazz asked,
ignoring the inference. “What do they call it?”

“House of John,” Ella answered with a wry smile. “Any black
woman who reads
Essence
knows about it.”

“Really.”

“Their ‘Dominican Heat’ series, ‘Think Like A Woman, Creep
Like A Man’ last year. Put the word out without putting the word out.”

“I see.”

“A single sistah with needs has to stay in the know.”

“So what about your White House clearance?”

“What about it?”

“I mean you’re down here paying men to sleep with you.”

“No, Jazz. I don’t pay men to sleep with me. I pay men to
fuck me. If they fall asleep, they don’t get paid.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Listen, Jazz. Last time I checked I was free, black and
over twenty-one. I’m down here in this beautiful country full of beautiful men,
breaking no local laws and getting my groove on. I’m not cheating on my spouse
because I don’t have one. And if the tea party wants to jump on the morality of
a single black woman enjoying her life, maybe they better take another look at
some of their own. Newt Gingrich, Mark Foley chasing after underage pageboys,
Schwarzenegger, Larry Craig tapping toe-codes to an undercover cop in an
airport washroom.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it like that, El.”

“Sure you did, Jazz. You’re a man. How else could you mean
it?”

“You really think I’m that kind of man?”

“What other kind of man is there?”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You know, I had breakfast with Frankie this morning.”

“Did you?”

“I know what’s going on.”

“Do you?”

“I mean, look at you. Stuck in what you want to traumatize
as a quandary. The very idea Frankie would even think about sharing her bed
with you and another man at the same time—”

“She told you.”

“Has you just a tad bit repulsed.”

“I’m not used to sharing someone I love, Ella. Maybe that’s
something you don’t understand.”

“Maybe that’s something you don’t understand, Mr. Mornay.
Love is a give and take. All you want to do is take and not give a little when
it comes to something your lady wants.”

And then she laughed, shook her head in mock despair and
stared him dead in the eyes. “You men are something else. You wouldn’t think
twice about fucking two women at the same time. But the thought of a woman
fucking two men at the same time, well it’s enough to make you go limp.”

Jazz didn’t know what to say. Ella figured she’d said quite
enough. She stood up and checked herself in the huge mirror above the sofa.

“You know,” she continued, staring at her reflection, but
talking to Jazz, “now that I think about it, maybe I’ll try that out myself.
The thought of cracking the whip on two fine-ass stallions pulling my coach is
already hardening my nipples even as we speak.”

She then spotted the reflection of Kunal in the mirror. He was
just entering the hotel.

He stopped in the doorway, framing himself in the
silhouetting sunshine, haloing himself like some devious angel. Wickedly he
smiled at her. She smiled back with equal allure. He scanned her gorgeousness
approvingly. Her beautiful caramel legs, long and shapely, descended sexily
into her mahogany sandals. Hints of her luscious ass peeked from beneath her
tight shorts. Her long, auburn ponytail sparkled as it hung down the back of
her neck, down her spine, down her near-bare golden back.

Kunal’s smile widened as he slowly moved toward her. Their
eyes met in the mirror again.

Reaching her, he wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her
softly on the neck. He then looked down at Jazz.

“Hola,”
he said stiffly before returning to Ella’s
neck.

“Hola,”
Jazz responded without looking up.

“Mmmm,” Ella swooned, gently lifting her head and easing her
neck even deeper into Kunal’s thick, moist, servicing lips. “Kunal?” she
whispered.

“¿Que, mi amor?”

“Do you have a good amigo?”

“Si,”
he whispered in the ear he’d been nibbling. “I
have plenty good amigos.”

“Only one will do.”

“¿Perdóneme?”
he asked absently, as he licked and
kissed her neck again and again.

“For now,” she continued, feeling his hardening bulge
against her behind. She took his hand and led him to the spiral staircase, then
up the stairs and toward her lair.

Jazz looked up and watched them disappear.

Familiar laughter at the hotel’s entrance drew his focus. He
stood at the sight and sound of Frankie and Yvette’s giggling chatter.

“I reserved the same room you had last time you were here,”
Frankie was saying, leading Yvette to the reception desk. “Sweetie, take her
bags up to number twenty-two,” she said to Marcos who had followed them in with
luggage.

“Good, ’cause I’m gonna take me a nice long nap and a nice
long bubble bath, so I can get me a nice long date tonight,” Yvette cackled. “
Hola
,
Edgar,” she then said to the man behind the reception desk.

That immediately alerted Jazz.

“
Hola
, Yvette and welcome back,” Edgar said, seeing
Jazz’s stunned look out of the corner of his eye. “Frankie?”

“Yes, Edgar.”

“You have a visitor,” he continued, directing Frankie to
Jazz with a look.

“Jazz…” she said quietly, seeing him, frozen in her tracks,
causing Yvette to look up.

“Hello Frankie.”

“Jazz?” Yvette squealed, rushing to him and giving him a big
hug.

“Hey, Yvette.”

“Frankie told me you were down here, but she wasn’t sure you
were still here. And look at you. Oh my God, you’ve gotten even finer. The
mustache is so sexy.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s it been? Six months? A year?”

“It’s been awhile.”

“So are you leaving or are you staying?”

“I’m…I’m not sure yet,” he said staring at Frankie, with an
occasional glance at Edgar. “I’m on stand-by for a flight out tonight.”

Frankie stiffened.

“Well please stay. I would love to catch up with you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Well I’ve gotta get some sleep. The red eye from LA and the
layover in Miami is a killer. See you later, cutie pie.”

“See ya, Yvette,” he said as she left him.

“He’s staying,” she whispered to Frankie as she passed her
and sashayed up the stairs.

Slowly, Jazz walked over to Frankie.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “I just need a moment with Edgar.”

“Okay.”

“By the way, have you two met?”

“Not officially,” Jazz said.

“Edgar, this is Jazz.”

“I know who he is,” Edgar said. “I see his picture. I see
him last night on my way home.” He extended his hand across the desk. “It is
truly a pleasure to meet you, Jazz.”

Jazz took his hand. “It’s…it’s a pleasure to meet you too,
Edgar.”

“Jazz, could you wait for me in the parlor? I’ll just be a
minute.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Es aún más guapo que su fotografía.”
Jazz overheard
Edgar whisper to Frankie as he walked toward the parlor.

The parlor was empty and yet its charm seemed to sparkle
with life even in the empty light of day. The candlelight, the clinking
glasses, the nocturnal whispers of love for sale were missing. But their
presence was felt. Jazz could feel it, even if he didn’t completely understand
it.

Something was happening to him as he surveyed the
beautifully appointed room. No, he had not lost his fear, but he had
gained…what was it?

He stood in the middle of the room pondering, wondering and
trying to sort it all out.

Trying to figure them all out. Ella Caldwell, Yvette, his
mother, Edgar, his ex, Frankie. Trying to figure himself out.

He sat down at the baby grand piano. He started playing.
Absently. Softly.

All In Love Is Fair
.

Frankie stood silently in the doorway. She watched the
expression on his face. She soaked in the tender way he played. When he
finished, she nearly cried. She walked over to him.

He looked up, seeing her in his presence for the first time.
He scooted over on the piano bench. She sat down next to him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said. “That was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“If you ever need a job, we’re looking for a piano player,”
she smiled.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled back. “Frankie?”

“Yes, Jazz?”

“I…need to apologize to you…about walking out on you last
night. It’s just that what you were asking, it shocked the hell out of me. I’m
still a bit shocked by it.”

“I understand, Jazz. Apology accepted.”

“I had a talk with El today,” he then said.

“So did I.”

“I know. I think she thinks I’m some kind of antediluvian, a
Neanderthal. But you know me, Frankie. I’m a pretty progressive guy. But I
don’t think I’m progressive enough to give you what you want.”

“What do you think of Edgar?”

“What do you mean what do I think of him? He’s a nice
looking guy. I can certainly understand your attraction to him.”

“He thinks you’re a nice looking guy too.”

“I know. I heard what he said in the lobby. He said I’m even
more handsome than my photograph.”

“I love you both, Jazz. I want you both.”

“But you want us both at the same time.”

“And why not?”

“I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Neither have I.”

“Then why?”

“I’ve never been in love with two men at the same time
before. I’ve never wanted to be with two men at the same time before. There’s a
first time for everything.”

“There are some firsts I’m not ready for.”

“Is being with a man one of them?”

Jazz laughed softly, looking away.

“What’s so funny?”

“Frankie, let me tell you something. My ex is a man.”

“What?” Her eyes widened with baffled astonishment.

“I’m bi, Frankie.”

“You…you never told me.”

“You never asked.”

She stood up and slowly walked around the piano. Jazz
watched her carefully as she put her hands on her hips, trying to sort it out.
Now it was her turn to laugh.

“Well…this…this is very interesting,” she then said.

“Does it bother you?”

“I don’t know. No, I guess. I mean, well, Edgar is bi.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“When I saw him last night on
El Malecón
, on my way
over here to see you, something happened inside me. I had never seen such an
attractive and desirous man in my life. When he smiled at me, it nearly took my
breath away. I was feeling things about him I thought I could only feel for
you. I’ve never been in love with two people at the same time. I’m a hopeless
romantic, Frankie. When I make love to someone, I fall in love. Making love to
you and another man, I could easily fall in love with him. And now, seeing
Edgar, knowing he was the man I saw last night. It would be very difficult for
me to…that’s what I’m afraid of. Now, more so than ever.”

“And you think that would make you fall out of love with
me?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s only one way to find out, Jazz.”

“I don’t know, Frankie.”

“He’s ready. I’m ready. Are you ready?”