kitchen-4Mary and Bill sat on the sofa in the small living room at the Upper Room. Mary had poured them drinks. Bill rolled a joint making sure not to spill any. As soon as the joint was ready, he lit it, puffed twice then passed it along. Mary took it from him and puffed for awhile before passing it back.

They did not speak much. Mary wanted to tell him that she didn’t have much more cooking to teach him, that she thought he had learned quickly and thoroughly. She wanted to tell him to watch out for Bea. The more he advanced, the more he challenged her position. It didn’t matter that they were still fraternizing. She wanted to talk about that too, to tell him to stop. But while she might tell him the other things, she’d never tell him that.  She liked him, goddamn it. She liked him and she was feeling possessive of him, even jealous. She knew she’d never let that out either.

They had not undressed yet. Mary had already made the bed with sheets she brought, like she always did. Then she fixed her makeup in the bathroom. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, and the bottom two too, so as they sat getting high Bill could see a good piece of cleavage and most of her thighs. Mary liked him looking. His interest in her turned her on. Being turned on and having the itch scratched was something new to her.

This time she wore a white-white dress to contrast with her dark-dark skin. She wore black, open-toe high heels, her toenails, fingernails and lips done in a deep purple. Underneath, she’d worn black, black bra, black panties. She wore no stockings.

“You look good,” Bill said when the joint was done. He rolled another joint and offered it to Mary. She declined, saying they could have it later. Bill put it on the table and reached for her. She moved close, next to him. He kissed her once then helped her lay down on the sofa. He lay with her and for a long time they kissed. He purposefully didn’t touch her and didn’t let her touch him. Finally, he asked what she was feeling.

“You first, Billy boy.”

“Contentment,” Bill said.

“Excitement,” Mary said. “I want you to, to…I can’t even say it.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m shy.”

“You shy or you scared?”

Mary flushed full red over her dark-chocolate face. “Both,” she said.

“Good,” Bill said. “Honesty.”

“I’m always honest with you,” Mary said.

“Yeah. When you say something.” Bill leaned in and nibbled on Mary’s earlobe. Then he whispered softly in her ear all the things he was going to do to her. He gave a full, detailed description, held nothing back, was not vulgar about it in any way. He made it as sensual and erotic as his English major’s mind could create.

Mary flushed full red over her black again and Bill simply looked at her, watched her blush, enjoyed teasing and cajoling her into imagining what was to come and how pleasant it might be. Then he began doing precisely what he said he would. He was slow and gentle in all his movements, deliberate with the placement of his touches and his kisses. He discovered immediately that Mary was already in a place he wanted her to be, a place she’d never been before, or at least that’s what she would tell him. He discovered that he did not have to work hard to accomplish his end, and he was pleased with himself. Soft kisses strategically placed and brief touches, just teases really as they lay on the couch, were enough to cause Mary to moan with pleasure.

He liked her too. It wasn’t like with Bea or Norma or Eleanor or Alfreda. It meant something with Mary, and that was…

Coming Now In About Another Month:

The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide

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