Eleven
ELEVEN
SOLEIL
I can’t believe he responded .
Last night, the masked man known as D_King replied to my comment and I blushed like a silly schoolgirl. I couldn’t help myself from commenting when I saw his post. I wouldn’t say that I was searching for him, but I wasn’t not looking for him to hopefully post.
He’s so alluring. It’s the way he hides his face despite showcasing his personality. I imagine a spark in his eyes, as if talking to each follower like they’re the one and only. I build what he looks like in my head, giving him the characteristics and features that every woman longs for.
Dark hair, maybe a little loose and wavy. Eyes the color of charcoal, brimming with mystery. A smile full of mischief, playfulness and seduction all rolled into one. Strong arms corded with muscles and skin that looks like caramel, good enough to lick. I close my eyes, putting all of these features together, only to realize that the man I built is Malik.
My thoughts wandered, imagining the warmth of his touch as it trailed across my body. That familiar tingle between my legs deepened and I craved the caress of anyone other than my own. I craved Malik. I longed to feel his tongue laving me, helping me wash away the old me while welcoming something new.
As usual, my fingers found their way beneath my waistband and played with my aching core until I saw stars behind my lids, and whispered his name.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face and dreamed of spending days in the sun like today, sneaking kisses and tender touches. But the harsh reality of my life greeted me when I awoke to a cold bed.
The thought of spending the rest of my days alone without another to share my life with hurts my lonely heart. But when I think of the alternative –being married only to have the jackass cheat on me and stomp on my heart– it’s better to have a bruised heart than a broken one.
“You guys have so much fun.” I hug Dahlia again, as she readies to leave with my parents.
“Sunny. You’re being a bit ridiculous. It’s not like we’re going across the world. It’s just a couple of days with Nana and Poppa and she’ll be back on Sunday evening.” My Mom squeezes my hand, and I smile at her with tears building in my eyes.
“I know. This is just the first time I’ll be all alone for more than a day in the new house. I don’t know what I’m going to do for an entire weekend.”
The week was a busy one that had me spending too many hours putting out fires and rearranging schedules. I’d work my usual hours of eight thirty to three, then get right back to it once Dahlia was in bed. One day when Mom called, I broke down over the stress of the week. Mom immediately shouted for George, told him they were taking Dahlia for the weekend and insisted I spend some time pampering myself. They must’ve filled Kyle in on the situation because she called me exactly twenty minutes after hanging up with Mom to tell me we were going out on Friday…which is today.
I’d much rather spend a night at home with my girl in fuzzy socks, dancing and laughing along with our favorite movies, than in a crowded bar with sticky floors and bathrooms that smell like drunk girl vomit. Been there, done that, and I am not looking to revisit.
“Mommy. Remember the first day of kindergarten?” Dahlia stands with her head tilted to one side and her hands on her hips. Where did all of this sass come from?
Kyle, I’m sure of it.
“Yes. I remember.”
“Well it’s like that. Just have fun and I’ll be home lickety split.” She tries to snap her fingers but ends up just rubbing them together.
“You have fun, too,” I tell her, smoothing back the baby hairs that have fallen loose from her ponytail. “Eat lots of ice cream for me.”
“I will,” George says, making me laugh.
They step out the door and I watch as they buckle Dahlia into her seat and put her overnight bag in the trunk. I can see her bouncing with excitement through the window. I’m glad at least one of us is happy about the weekend. If it were up to me, I’d be sitting right beside Dahlia, ready to start some family fun. But apparently it is not up to me, and I’m forced to smile and wave as they drive off.
I sigh as they fade out of sight and walk back in, trudging to my room and falling back on my bed. My arms are stretched out wide and I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, it will be Sunday and my little girl will be home.
A pounding at the door sounds and I pop up from my bed. The sun has set and I look at the clock to find that it’s seven-thirty. I must have fallen asleep. The banging continues and I surmise it can be only one person.
I shuffle the front door and swing it open to find a very irate Kyle.
“I was about to call the goddamn cops. You haven’t answered my texts or my call, and I’ve been knocking for five minutes.” She pushes her way past me, a garment bag in hand, and heads straight for my bedroom.
“Sorry, Ky. I fell asleep. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat in silence. I swear it feels like I only closed my eyes for a minute.”
I follow her into my bedroom where she tosses the garment bag on my bed and kicks off her heels. She gathers her blonde hair into a bun, and ties it off with a scrunchie that she pulls from her coat pocket.
The coat and the skirt get discarded, and she stands in just her underwear and silk blouse as she walks into my closet.
“Well then good. That means you’re rested so there will be no excuse to leave early. Now, get over here so we can figure out what you’re going to wear.” My arms hang at my sides and I drag my feet.
“Why can’t we just have a quiet night? No loud music or drunk people to contest with, Just you and I, a bottle of wine and a movie. Doesn’t that sound so nice?”
She pushes a stack of clothes hanging on the bar, and begins sorting through possible outfits. “It does sound nice…for tomorrow night. But tonight, we’re going out. I like this.” She holds out a short, gold sequin skirt that looks like it would be a better fit for Dahlia.
“Where did you get that? I don’t remember even buying that.” I shake my head, taking the skirt from her and hanging it back up.
“I think you wore it for that sixties costume party. Remember? You had on those thigh high black boots and a cute turtleneck. And you did your hair up with that bump and headband.” She shifts one hanger after the other, assessing each article of clothing.
“It should stay with the costume stuff then. How about some jeans and flats? Comfy and cute.”
“Errr. Wrong,” she says, making a loud buzzer sound. “Flats are out. You’re putting on a damn heel if I have to glue them to your feet.” She moves to where my pants hang and retrieves my favorite pair. “These. I love these.”
I take the hanger from her and walk over to my bed. I pull the pants off and lay them flat, admiring the cute white leg pants with the high waist.
“With this top. Perfectly Sunny. Classic with a touch of sexiness.” She adds an off the shoulder, red bodysuit with long sleeves to the jeans.
“I don’t have the boobs for that. I’m pretty sure you forced me to buy that.”
“And now I’m forcing you to wear it. Go change.” She uses her lawyer voice and I sag my shoulders in defeat.
I strip out of my comfy, cotton shorts and t-shirt, placing them both in the hamper and begin sliding into the very tight bodysuit.
“Where are we going anyway?” I turn to the mirror and bend slightly at the waist, sticking my hand inside and adjusting my small breasts.
“Truth and Dare. It’s a local bar so you won’t have to worry about a noisy nightclub. We’ll be able to sit and have a few drinks and actually talk without shouting.” Kyle comes walking into the closet in a black lacy bra as she zips up a pair of leather pants. “And maybe one, or both of us, will get lucky. I could use a stiff dick. I haven’t had one in a couple months.”
“Good lord, Ky. Really?” I roll my eyes and pause halfway into stepping into my jeans.
“What? It’s the truth. A stiff drink after work is one thing, but a hard dick after a tough week is even better.” She winks and reaches for a belt. “Add this. And wear those cream Loubi’s.”
I feed the gold Gucci belt through the loops and buckle it into place. “Can I at least style my hair the way I want?” I shout.
She pops her head back into the closet, now donning a midnight blue low cut blouse. “Of course…as long as it’s down and curled.”
Will I ever have a say in my own life again? Between Kyle and my parents and Dahlia, I feel like I’m just along for the ride in my story.
I guess they think I need the help since the first few chapters of my story didn’t go quite as planned.
To quote the waiter from my favorite movie, Old School, “Love. It’s a motherfucker.”