13
Wrought Iron Gate

I parked and waited for a car to pass before crossing the street and walking through the Iron Gate leading to Ernestina’s building. Two older gentlemen on the sidewalk simply paused and eyeballed me from the fence all the way to the entrance. Glancing over my shoulder as the solid, turn of the century wood door swung closed, I caught a glimpse of them pointing toward the Impala; motioning in the direction of where I’d walked. The concern lasted only about as long as it took the door to close behind me, as I couldn’t understand a word of what they’d said anyway…sounded like Greek or some other foreign tongue. Topping the stairs while admiring the handy woodwork of the banister and railings, I bumped into a darker complexioned gentleman wearing camouflage pants who looked to be a couple years older than me.

“My apologies, man.” I immediately offered.

“Yeah, whatever,” he responded with a little attitude. “Next time, be mo careful ‘bout where you’s walking.”

Thoughts of the purpose for my visit kept me from even considering his comment. Approaching Ernestina’s apartment, the thick wooden door tagged 2-0-6 gently opened as I raised a hand to sound the buzzer. Oddly enough, there was no one visible so I stepped inside to the sounds of Luther Vandross crooning the paint off Ernestina’s walls.

I pushed the door closed and turned to see beauty personified standing in royal purple lingerie which caused my jaw to damn near fall to the floor. I tried composing myself upon realizing a pleasantly surprised face still hung open. “I...I hope you not wearing that to dinner,” I said. “By the time you get dressed and we make it to the restaurant…”

“We’re not going to any restaurant,” Ernestina interrupted. “I decided it would be better to stay in…get to know each other a little better. Why, are you hungry?”

Dumbfounded at the site of her thick legs and perfectly rounded ass, which was only accented by the silk drapery she wore, I stammered, “Well, I…uh, no…I mean, I’m okay.”

Taking me by the hand and leading in the direction of the oversized butter-leather couch, “Good,” she said. My host assured me with an inviting smile, while taking a seat on the middle cushion, “If you’d like, I can hook up some finger food.”

Playing the devil’s advocate, I teased while also taking a seat beside her, “And just what type finger food did you have in mind?”

Without uttering a word, she took the index finger of my right hand into her mouth and proceeded to act as though it was a lollipop. An overactive imagination ran wild and explored a gauntlet of possibilities; causing my libido to shift into high gear. However, constant thoughts of earlier events this evening kept me subconsciously applying the brakes. I was both shocked and excited at the mere thought of the anticipated future.

With full lips, warm and inviting, I couldn’t resist the urge to shower my captor with tender kisses. I gently slid one spaghetti strap off her soft shoulder to expose the most perfectly toned physical features while simultaneously massaging soft but firm upper arms and shoulders with my lips. A whisper came without restriction of thought. “Are you sure?” I asked.

She moaned, “Is that a question you think really needs to be asked? Don’t you realize the answer?”

While continuing to kiss her neck, I spoke softly in Ernestina’s ear, “I just don’t believe in going any place I’m not invited.”

She advised in a soft whisper, “You have an open invitation to do whatever you want, however you want.”

“But, are you sure?” I insisted.

Placing both hands on my shoulders and gently pulling me forward for our faces to meet, Ernestina whispered, “You talk too much. Like I said, whatever...however you want.”

Being there on the couch with the object of my desire wearing little more than a thought was where I had longed to be since first meeting her last week. My body was in the mood, but my mind was constantly scolding me for what had happened earlier with Natasha. Nevertheless, I definitely didn’t want to disappoint Ernestina.

I continued caressing her softness and tasting almond-
scented flesh. The contrasting texture of a firm muscular frame in comparison to satin-like skin became more apparent when I perused the full extent of her body. The scent of almond was particularly prevalent when my tongue encountered Ernestina’s naval.

Perceiving my reluctance, she asked, “Do you want to stop?”

I paused, “It’s not what you think,” and then answered, “Pleasing you pleases me.”

“Well, its okay if you don’t want to,” she started. “I mean, you don’t really know a whole lot about…!”

The next forty-five minutes were consumed with the two of us sharing the stage beside Luther as we made beautiful music together. I must have kissed every part of her gorgeous body to the point my lips were numb which had her trying to climb over the back of the couch. It seemed as though I was, for the first time, in the presence of what sensuality was designed to be like. We danced to a new song and found ourselves thoroughly enjoying every note while lifting our voices in unison at the finale to rest our heads on the over-sized pillows.

I whispered, again, “Pleasing you…pleases me.”

“Daaammmnnn!” She said.

Obviously concerned, I asked, “Something wrong?”

“You…ain’t no good. Not a bit ‘o good a’tall.” The officer’s inhibitions had been effectively dismantled and she levied condemnation against me; rolling to the end of the couch. Ernestina whispered again, “Damn,” and positioned her head on the armrest.

A few minutes later, I moved to where she lay, placing my head on her stomach with arms encircling the two most pleasant thighs I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. “I’m feeling a case of the munchies,” I said.

“Oh hell no!” she screamed, pushing me to the floor in front of the couch. “You’ve done got all the good from this one, baby!”

“I meant food,” I volunteered, rolling onto my side,

She said with an impish grin, “Oh.”

I laughed, “What I need is some rice and beans.”

“If you’re really hungry I can cook something,” she said. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Reminding her of what she had told me before, I pretended to argue. “Now when I got here you told me we weren’t going out and that you had prepared some finger food.”

“But you told me that you were okay when I asked,” she said.

“That was earlier, before you caused me to work up an appetite,” I admitted.

“You are so silly,” she said.

“I’m so serious,” I replied.

“You have to be kidding me!” she exclaimed. “I am spent. When I told you there isn’t anything left, I wasn’t joking. Remember now, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure of being pleasured.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys,” I joked.

Somewhat defensively, she commented, “Seriously, I
don’t get down like that. I mean, with all the crap that’s going around these days and the fools you have to deal with who’ll just give you crap if you’re in a relationship, it’s just not worth it.”

“Not trying to raise the dead,” I said. “But I thought when we met last week, you told me something about issues with a man. In fact, I’m positive you told me the trouble was with your man.”

“I never said it’s been a while since I had a man. What I said was, it has been quite a while since I’ve been pleasured,” she explained. “Part of the problem with the man I had, when I wasn’t sharing him with somebody else, was the fact that he didn’t care too much about pleasing anybody other than himself.”

“That’s such a waste,” I stated.

“The biggest waste was the amount of time I spent with him,” Ernestina reasoned.

“How long were the two of you together?” I asked.

“Several years,” she calculated. “Several years too damn long, truth be told.”

“That’s a lot of time sacrificed,” I confirmed. “I know there had to be something about it that was good enough to keep you interested for so long.”

“Hope is a powerful thing,” she said. “When you’re fortunate enough to find somebody who’s more into you than they are themselves, that’s rare…like a diamond in the rough,” Ernestina continued. “Take just now, for example. Usually a relationship starts out with the man; that would be you,” she joked. “But, with the man being all considerate and concerned about what the woman; that would be me,” she added. “Anyway, the man’s interested in what the woman wants. At the point they become comfortable with each other, or when he becomes comfortable with her, all that kindness and consideration crap just goes out the damn window.”

“That depends on where you shop for your men,” I said. “If you’ve been out picking up strays or unwanted mutts, why are you so surprised when they prove to be the dogs you knew they were before taking them in?”

She adjusted her position on the couch to be certain we made direct eye contact. “Not to bring up the past either, but take the creep I was just involved with. We met in trade school, had a lot in common; even dated for a few years after I attended the police academy. Everything about him told me he was the one,” she noted. “I mean, we were together a little more than three years…three wasted years,” she assessed.

“Well, folk down South never consider time in any situation wasted unless you come out with no more wisdom than you went in,” I rationalized. “If you consider yourself wiser now than when you guys got together, then, that wasn’t wasted time...just an education.”

“You bet your sweet ass I’m smarter. Smart enough not to fall for the bullshit and take his trifling butt back again,” she concluded.

“Not smarter, but wiser,” I corrected. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t get a degree unless you complete four years of college, which includes a lot of reports and exams. On some you do well and some you don’t, but that’s all part of the educational process…the experience.”

She wore a puzzled expression, “What? Speak English, and cut out all that biscuit-and-gravy philosophy. Nobody understands that shit except you, anyway. If you’re going to talk to yourself, I’ll go take a shower; you coming?”

“Well, I was actually thinking of making that trek back down to the Village. I’ve got quite a few things to check on tomorrow,” I said.

Motioning for me to let her off the couch, she asked, “Don’t you have to be back in Harlem tomorrow morning?”

My response was a little more direct than intended, “Yeah, but it’s not like I packed an overnight bag with a change of clothes.”

Taking what I perceived as a stab at my heritage, she asked, “Now, you mean to tell me you’re a true country boy and have never worn the same clothes two days in a row?”

“Yeah, I have, but that was a long time ago, when I only had two pairs of pants and three shirts,” I said. “Times have somewhat improved. I’ve got a few more pieces of lint in my wardrobe now.”

Moving toward the front door, she reasoned, “If you gone drive all the way back to the Village just to take a nap and come back to Harlem tomorrow morning, you might want to take off. It’s already close to midnight, and you’ve still got an hour or so to drive.”

With a somber expression, I half-jokingly questioned, “So, is that the way it is? You get what you need and then show me the door? Suddenly I feel so used.”

“Rest assured, I didn’t exactly get what I needed, not all that I needed anyway. You’re the one who keeps saying you have to go back home. I asked if you wanted to join me in the shower. It was you who declined my offer to lather you down,” she explained.

“You dangerous,” I joked.

She spoke from behind a slight giggle, “I’m serious…if you’ll permit me to borrow your phrase,” she said. “At any rate, you do need to get a move on if you’re going to take that drive. The night’s not getting any younger.”

Checking the time on my signature Movado while opening the door, I responded, “Man, you’re right, where did all the time get off to? Seems like I just got here a few minutes ago.”

“Don’t blame me,” she defended. “You’re the one who jerked around and didn’t show up until nearly eleven o’clock. In reality, you have only been here a few minutes. And man, what a few minutes they were!”

By now, Ernestina was virtually crawling up my left leg which was still just inside her apartment door. While trying to escape, I said, “I think you really need that shower; a cold one, in fact.”

She replied in a pleading tone, pretending to sulk, “What I really need is running out my door. You sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay over?” she asked.

“Naw, I’d love to but there’s a laundry list of things on my agenda for tomorrow, which means an early start. If I stay here with you, I’ll be lucky if I’m able to get started at all,” I reasoned. “I really do need to go, but I’ll ring you some time in the afternoon.”

More instinctively than anything else, she directed, “Well, by the time you make it home, I should be done in the shower. Just give me a call to let me know you made it in okay.”

I asked with a serious look, confusing concern for control, “Excuse me?” but immediately realized my error. “I’m sorry baby…uh, I mean Ernestina. It’s that control thing; I guess old habits really do die hard.”

She spoke with the sympathy of a life-long friend, “That’s okay, I understand it has a lot to do with your life,” she said. “Oh, and I think you have earned the right to call me baby at this point.”

I assured her with a final kiss goodnight, “Well, baby, I’ll give you a call when I make it home. Just so you won’t worry your pretty little head.”

“Thank you,” she responded. “Good night.”

I whispered, while exiting the apartment, “See you later,” and then tiptoed down the stairs to avoid disturbing Ernestina’s mostly elderly neighbors.

When I left the building and started across the courtyard, I noticed two figures passing near my car on the street. They were close to the fence on the opposite side in the shadows. I kept watching but never saw them come from behind the car. I crossed over at the point the street lamp was blown and crept up, keeping cover behind the other cars beside the curb. I determined they were just teenagers, probably looking for wheels to go joyriding or maybe as part of some gang’s initiation.

I stood up and walked around the car in plain sight before calmly saying, “This one has a security system that disables the starter if you don’t use the key to unlock it.”

Noticeably startled, the skinny kid with the spiked Mohawk reluctantly asked, “How you know that…you done tried to lift this piece?”

Retrieving the keys from my pocket, “No, not exactly,” I said, before disclosing as the alarm chirped to disarm, “I installed it.”

The other youngster shouted in mid-stride, “Oh shit!” as they both turned to run. “That’s the some-bitch owns this joint!”

Pulling my trusty Smith & Wesson from the belt holster, I couldn’t resist popping off a couple shots: CA-CLACK, CA-CLACK, just to drive home the point as the two misdirected aspiring thugs rounded the corner of the building, “And neither one of you have ever met my mama!” I exclaimed.

I sat and buckled in before pulling onto the street while having a hearty laugh for most of the drive to the Village. The ride was a little more pleasurable as I couldn’t help thinking about the expressions on those kids’ faces when the security system was disarmed and they realized what had happened. Just two punks doing what they think they have to in order to get ahead, I thought to myself. I instantly replayed that journey down the road I’d traveled which started in pretty much the same place theirs had.

Miles Davis’ horn was screeching from the Bose speakers when I conceded to no one in particular, “Little do they know, it’s just a dead end street.”