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Jasmine
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Coco jumped off the sofa and started barking before T rang the bell. Her timing was perfect; I took crescent rolls out of the oven before heading to the door and transferred the food to real plates as opposed to the paper plate I was eating off of. I did a slow three-sixty turn to survey the results of my flurry of activity. I had dusted, swept, cleaned the bathrooms, changed the sheets and plumped the pillows before she got here. I was almost too damn tired for company. I came up the old-fashioned way, that amount of cleaning generally took half a Saturday morning with 95.9 playing on the radio in the background. I couldn’t believe “Anything for you” came out of my mouth. Shit, did I say that out loud? Take a deep breath...
I opened the door and there she was, smirking and waiting for me to invite her in.
“Hey,” I said with my coy, I’m-sexy-but-I’m-not-trying-very-hard-smile.
“Hey, you look nice,” T said.
“You’re just saying that to get in the door.”
“No, I assume you wouldn’t invite me out here to Hell’s Half Acre and not let me in. I was merely speaking truth.”
“I don’t know if you have an objective bone in your body,” I said, certain of my response.
“That may be true when it comes to you, but I’d prefer to debate that point inside rather than out here on the porch with these killer bugs hanging around the light.” T moved closer into my comfort zone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” I apologized and backed up.
“No worries. I know I get you all flummoxed,” T said sarcastically. I gave her a shot in the arm.
Who the hell used the word flummoxed? She was so different. Unlike any other woman that I had met. Unlike any other woman that I would normally spend time with.
“Your house is gorgeous. You were talking about my place, you must be doing well yourself.”
“Girl, this place was so sad when I bought it,” I said.
“Really?” T asked.
“I know right, we put in a lot of sweat equity,” I said shaking my head at the thought.
“Well, you all—whoever ‘we’ is—did a great job. Hey, I got something for you.” T handed me a beautifully wrapped gift the size of a large pizza.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” she said.
I shook it, trying to guess what this could be but that didn’t provide any clues. I tore the wrapping off to reveal a hubcap. “What in the world?” I asked.
“Hey, you needed one and I was thinking about you.” T was apparently pleased with herself.
“Thanks?!!”
She laughed.
“This is probably one of the most practical, thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.”
T raised one eyebrow.
“Seriously, thank you,” I said.
“I know it’s a bit odd and certainly not the sexiest of gifts,” T stated the most obvious thing ever.
“Yes, you’re right and I appreciate the effort,” I replied honestly.
“Speaking of practical, thought that you would like these too.” T took the hubcap and handed me a bag.
I reached in and pulled out a small jar labeled, ‘OREGANO.’ I looked up and smiled and pulled two other jars out, perfectly labeled like the first... ‘BASIL,’ and ‘THYME.’”
“Ahhhh, now these I really appreciate,” I said, my smile extending ear to ear, and kissed her cheek.
“Good, now what smells so good?”
We made small talk over dinner, and I shared a few war stories from work. After dinner, we moved to the living room to get comfortable so, I slipped my sandals off. T reached for one of my feet and once again started massaging it, but I stopped her.
“No thanks, tonight, I’m going to help you relax,” I said.
“Oh really? What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“I’ll be right back.” I returned with a large black towel and a bottle of lotion and told T to take her shirt off.
“Excuse me?” T exclaimed.
I stood in front of her, smiled and said again, “Take off your shirt.” T did as I asked and began to unbutton her shirt but then stopped. “What do you have in mind?”
“You obviously aren’t used to taking orders.” I put the bottle on the coffee table behind me, bent down on my knees between T’s legs, finished unbuttoning her shirt, and took it off. If this were my own shirt, I would have just tossed it haphazardly across the armrest, but since T is a bit more fastidious, I made the effort to fold it neatly. I spread the towel on the full length of the sofa and told T to lie down. She hesitated.
“Ms. Butler, it’s your turn to trust me,” I said as convincingly as I could.
T gave me the side eye, but she laid on her stomach anyway. I picked up the stereo remote and turned the XM radio to the Spa channel. The room filled with the calming sound of nature. I rubbed my palms together to warm them, unhooked T’s bra, and gently touched her back in strategic spots to center her and bring her into an awareness of the moment. I started kneading T’s back in long, rhythmic strokes with my hands. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard T moan a few times.
“I’m almost too relaxed to move,” T said.
“Then don’t,” I whispered. “You’re welcome to stay here or come with me.”
T took too long to make a decision, so I made it for her. “Come with me.” I reached for her hand and led her down the hall. I winked at T and facetiously said, “I’ll make sure you get to work on time.” I smiled.
“You got lots of jokes, huh?” T asked grinning.
“Do you need a toothbrush? I doubt it though. I bet you have a bag in the car huh?”
“You’re on a roll,” she pointed out.
“You know I’m joking.” T rolled her eyes. “I suspect this isn’t your first late night visit.” I laughed. Toni always traveled with a bag, perhaps that was par for the course.
As we entered my bedroom, I saw T appreciating the room’s colors, which reflected me totally, grey for coolness and purple ‘cause every queen needs that regal look. I joked, “I’m not sure you want to relax in any of my PJs, I can offer you an oversized t-shirt.”
“That’s good enough for gubment work,” T responded.
“Do you need a washcloth or towel or anything?” I asked.
“I’ll take both, if you don’t mind,” T answered.
I came back with a big, fluffy towel, the kind that you would find at the Ritz Carlton next to slippers embroidered with a fancy emblem, and a flowered patterned t-shirt my grandmother would have worn.
“Oh no!” T exclaimed, “I’ll be right back.” She promptly left the room, and I heard the front door open. She came back a few minutes later with a bag.
“See, that is how you roll,” I said.
“Hey, I didn’t know how long I was going to be here. You could have kicked me out after dinner. But no, I don’t usually roll like anything. You may be surprised to know that I very rarely spend the night out anywhere in Baltimore, with anybody.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“Let’s just say I like my own space.”
“Yeah okay. You can freshen up and I’m going to do a security check.”
“I locked the front door when I came back in,” T said.
“Girl please, there’s a process. You saw how wooded it is around here. A girl has to be careful.”
“Right, right... should I come witness the process?”
“Are you assuming this won’t be your last visit?”
“No, I’m not assuming anything, but I hope not. But I’ll let you do your thing,” T said.
I methodically went through the house checking not just the front door, but the French doors that led to the patio and the door to the basement. I turned off the radio, made sure the windows were closed and locked, and finally armed the security system. Coco came back to the room with me this time, company or not, she was ready to get comfortable on her pillow in the corner.
“Has Fort Knox been secured?” T asked as she came out of the bathroom.
“Yes, smart ass. One can never be too careful living in the city.”
“Damn suburbs, this ain’t livin’ in the city,” T countered.
“It is not the suburbs. All the houses look alike in the suburbs. This house is uniquely its own and doesn’t look like any other house on the street. And my property taxes, water bill, and car insurance clearly reflect that I live in the city.”
“Yes ma’am, I hear you,” T said and pulled me closer.
“Whoa cowgirl, it’s my turn to go in the bathroom for a minute.”