Duped
By Love
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Amazon
ISBN: 0977225003
Format: Paperback
Pub. Date: August 2005
Publisher: 1534 Press
Duped By Love Excerpts: "The Link up Line", "The Old Bait and Switch' and "The Body The Voice (part II)"
Excerpt #1 'The Link up Line'
Sometimes, the people who claim to love you the most are responsible for causing
you the most trouble, especially when it comes to your love life. Not on
purpose, mind you. They think they're helping. They're like Danny Glover's
father in 'The Color Purple', 'Old Mister'. They mean well, but in the end,
their advice just makes everything worse.
Case in point ' my best friend, Lois, who also just happens to be my
ex-husband's sister, is the one who tricked me into going out with him in the
first [insert-your-favorite-expletive-here] place. They were both still living
with their parents at the time. I think she just wanted to get him out of the
house.
While we were all still back in high school, she set up a blind date between her
brother and I, but made us both believe it was the other person's idea. I would
contend that by doing so she altered the very course, the very fabric of my
romantic life. I'm almost certain that had it not been for her blatant
interference, her meddling, I would have somehow made my way to the west coast
and into the arms of Denzel Washington, the man who I was really born to love.
Lois' deception so many years ago catapulted me into a bogus marriage that ended
in divorce, and left me feeling like I had just fought WWII emotionally. It is
curious to me then, as I'm sure it will be to you that I chose to take her
advice yet again just months after my experience with BigPeter, when I was ready
to brave the dating waters again. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment.
The first time Lois told me about the hottest new dating craze in town I was
skeptical. The 'Link up Line' was a telephone-based service sponsored by one of
the local radio stations, and was touted as a place where tens of thousands of
local 'eligibles' could be found in one shot with a simple phone call - yours
for the picking like big pieces of human fruit. Lois had heard from a friend of
a friend whose cousin's girlfriend's best friend had met someone there, that
they were completely happy and were now planning a wedding. Sounded credible to
me, but I was still a little gun shy. BigPeter had done a real number on me. I
was still quite wounded, and I said as much to her.
'Girl, please, you only chatted with the man! And you only did that for three
days! You act as though you two had set a date! Or even HAD a date!', Lois
complained. Lois was one of my best friends, but I thought she was being a
little hard on me. After all, she was little, and perky, with a baby doll
figure, long brown hair, and hazel brown eyes. She was very pretty, but more
than that she was very sexy. She just didn't have the problems that I had
attracting men - she was a man magnet. I loved her. I hated her.
Suddenly she softened. 'I can't stand to see you acting like this Shay-Shay,
it's not normal ' it's time for you to shake yourself off and get back into the
scene! Come on, call the damned service!'
I held the phone in silence. I felt as though I had been changed forever by
BigPeter's betrayal, and I wanted to say so ' but it sounded dramatic, even to
me. 'I guess you're right, but a telephone hook up line? It seems a little
creepy. Not to mention that making connections by phone leaves you completely
unable to judge someone by the quality of their written communication.' She gave
me the number and hung up on me.
Okay. Did I really have anything to lose? You could only get so much excitement
from caring for a newborn, and let me just say that the conversations with them
aren't worth a piss. 'What the hay', I figured, 'maybe I can find someone nice
to spend a little time with, nothing too serious too soon, just a
little'.companionship'. What I found instead was a psychotropic walk through the
mind of every sick twisted loser who ever ordered telephone service. But I
shouldn't give away the ending too soon.
I furtively dialed the toll-free number, which it turns out was only a recording
that gave you directions on how to call the real line ' a 900 number that cost
$3.99 per minute. Okay. Three dollars was a small price to pay to find true love
(already I was being victimized by the "just under" pricing Jedi mind trick '
you know the one ' price everything one penny shy of the next dollar amount, in
an effort to convince the gullible they're getting a bargain). I figured, one,
two minutes tops, I'd pick someone to chat with, get his number, and we'd live
happily ever after outside the restrictive and no doubt expensive confines of
the 'Link Up Line'. What could be simpler?
I dialed the 900 number and waited for an answer. I didn't have to wait long.
After just one ring, a recorded message with Barry White music surging in the
background began to play:
'Thank YOU for calling the Hot 99 'Link Up Line'! you're on your way to finding
true and lasting love, baby. The man or woman of your dreams is just seconds
away! Are you ready?' The man on the recording sounded like a phone sex line
reject, but what the hell, yes, I was ready. I began to wonder if the man of my
dreams would like peanut butter. I could never be with anyone who didn't like
peanut butter.
The recorded message continued 'Just answer a few quick and easy questions, and
we'll connect you to the plethora of sexy singles that are all dying to meet
YOU!'. He hissed the 's' in sexy like a snake ' it went on forever. Furthermore,
I sincerely doubted that the daters on this service were all dying to meet me. I
would settle for just a couple of them being a little curious about me. And
though at the time I wasn't quite sure what plethora meant, it sounded good.
I've since looked the word up in the dictionary and now I use it whenever I have
the opportunity. Ah-em.
Suddenly, the Barry White voice was replaced by the dulcet tones of a female
computer sounding person. 'Please remember, the 'Link Up Line' is for
entertainment purposes only. As with any dating service, please be responsible
in your dating choices. By continuing to use this service, you agree that Hot 99
and the 'Link Up Line' will not be responsible for any of the following ' bad
breakups, stolen checkbooks, STDs, missing daters, married daters, murdered
daters, false information, daters on parole, daters currently in prison, daters
currently in prison who are eligible for parole, or excessive phone charges
incurred by daters.' Hmmm. That should have given me pause. Of course, it did
not.
The computer person continued. 'In three seconds billing will begin. To avoid
incurring a charge to your home telephone number, you must hang up before the
sound of the tone.'
No way. I was too far gone now. The excitement of what could come next had me in
its grip. I waited for the beep. It was the longest three seconds of my life.
'(Beep) To hear options in English, press one. Para o'r las opciones en espa'ol,
la prensa dos. For options in all other languages, including French, Swahili,
Portuguese, Finnish, Estonian, Mandarin, Bengali, and the Malayo-Polynesian
languages, press three.'
Duh. I pressed one.
'Press one to setup your mailbox. Press two to search for the love of your life.
Press three to file a complaint with the 'Link Up Line' security team, press
four to check the status of a claim you've previously filed with the 'Link Up
Line' security team. Press five to repeat these options. Press six to speak to a
'Link Up Line' representative.'
This was a no-brainer. I just wanted to get right to the lovin'. I pressed two.
'Please hold'. Then silence. What the ?!? I hadn't even gotten the chance to
tell them that I only wanted to chat with Denzel Washington look-a-likes, and I
was already two minutes into the call. Then, after about 30 seconds of more
Barry White music, 'I'm sorry, but you must setup your mailbox before we can
help you find the love of your life. Please press one to setup your mailbox.'
Crap. This was taking longer than I thought it would. I pressed one. I was
getting irked, but I wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet.
'Press one if you are setting up your mailbox for the first time. Press two if
you are making changes to an existing mailbox. Press three for instructions on
setting up a new or existing mailbox. Press four to skip instructions.' Hmm. The
call was getting pricy, but I thought it better to be safe than sorry. I pressed
three to get instructions.
'For instructions in English, press one. Para las instrucciones en espa'ol,
prensa dos. For options in all other languages, including French, Swahili,
Portuguese, Finnish, Estonian, Mandarin, Bengali, and the Malayo-Polynesian
languages, press three.' That prompt seemed a bit familiar, but I didn't let it
slow me up. I pressed one.
'Setting up your 'Link Up Line' mailbox is quick and easy! Simply follow the
prompts, and speak your answers clearly into your telephone. If necessary, spell
your first and last name. If you need to repeat an option, press the star key.'
Got it. I waited for the first prompt with baited breath.
'At the beep, please say your first and last name. Remember; speak slowly and
clearly into the phone to ensure a quality recording. (Beep)'
'Shelby Stewart', I recited in my best Sunday morning church announcement lady
voice. This wasn't good enough for the 'Link Up Line' computer person.
'I'm sorry. We did not get your response. At the beep, please say your first and
last name. Remember; speak slowly and clearly into the phone to ensure a quality
recording. (Beep)'
'SHEEL-BYY STEWWAART'. I dragged it out that time. Kicked the volume up a notch
or two as well. No dice.
'I'm sorry. We did not get your response. At the beep, please say your first and
last name. Remember; speak slowly and clearly into the phone to ensure a quality
recording. (Beep)'
'SHEEELLL-BYYY STEEWWAAARRRT!', I yelled into the phone. Bingo!
'Thank you. Your name has been recorded. Your callers will hear: SHEEELLL-BYYY
STEEWWAAARRRT!'. Yikes - was that MY voice piercing through the static? The men
on this service would think I was a lunatic. No matter ' surely it was almost
time to find my soul mate.
'Please select from the following options. If you are a woman seeking a man,
press one. If you are a woman seeking a woman, press two. If you are a man
seeking a woman, press three. If you are a man seeking a man, press four. All
others, press five.' What?!? What 'others'? While I sat there and ran the
combinations in my head, the computer person voiced her impatience.
'I'm sorry. We did not get your response. Please select from the following
options. If you are a woman seeking a man, press one. If you are a woman seeking
a woman, press'.' I quickly pressed one. I had not yet solved the puzzle of the
'other' option, but I had no time to waste. Six and one half minutes into the
call, and still no soul mate.
'Thank you. If you are looking for a short term relationship, press one. If you
are looking for a long term relationship, press two. If you are seeking a
one-time intimate encounter with someone who wants the same, press three. If you
are seeking a one-time intimate encounter with someone who is clueless as to
your intentions, press four.'
That last option seemed rather harsh. I was beginning to tire of the whole set
up thing. I impatiently pressed the one key, to which the computer person
responded 'Thank you! A few more questions and we'll have all the information we
need to connect you with your love matches!'
How exciting! The good news was, this whole setup bit was a one time thing. From
now on, I could just call in, and sort through the sea of messages from adoring
'Link Up Line-rs'. My fantasy was interrupted by the computer person's next
question. 'If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be'.'
Eventually, I completed the whole setup process. Whew! Eighteen minutes in all,
during which time I had given the computer person more information about myself
than I'd had to give on my last job application. But it was finally time to
begin my search for my new main squeeze! All I had to do was press one and the
nice computer person voice would begin lining up virtual suitors for me to
choose from! I could hardly contain my excitement ' I giggled as I pressed the
one key. This was it - the computer person said, 'Searching for your love
matches through hundreds of thousands of records, please hold.' Hundreds of
thousands! Wow! I'd be up all night scouring this list of potential lovers! My
imagination was running wild, my pulse was racing'..
'Searching for love matches through hundreds of thousands of records, please
hold.' The computer person repeated. I took a deep breath, and imagined myself
being held by a big, strong ex-football player who loved only pleasantly plump
divorcees with small children and boring careers'
'Searching for love matches in hundreds of thousands of records, please hold.'
There was that message again. No matter. Searching THAT many records had to take
time. I wondered how long it would be before I could take my new boyfriend to
meet my mother. She was going to be thrilled'she'd been bugging me to death
about finding a man, not letting myself go'.
'We're sorry. No match was found for you today.' It was the Barry White guy
again, complete with background music. 'But all is not lost! Call back often as
we have new people just like you joining the 'Link Up Line' every day, baby!
Thanks for your call, and have a nice day (click-boooooooooooooo)'.
A dial tone? A friggin' dial tone? I could NOT believe my ears! Twenty-two
minutes on the call from hell and not a single match? I wanted to call and curse
somebody out! I wanted to complain and get my money back! 'I wanted a match,
damnit, A MATCH!'
Oh, who was I yelling at? I hung up the phone, and got ready for bed. I'd just
check again tomorrow. Maybe the love of my life would join the stinking service
by then. Drat.
Excerpt #2 'The Old Bait and Switch'
It was later that evening. I had still only received the single message on the
Link Up Line. No flood gates here, folks. I was beginning to feel a little shaky
about the whole thing.
I'd mentioned to Lois that I'd gotten a message and that I couldn't decide if I
was going to respond to the guy or not. It's hard to explain - I was being
plagued by a nagging thought.
Here's the deal. It occurred to me even back then that one of the problems with
these kinds of 'non-face-to-face' forms of meeting people, is that they rob you
of that first moment ' that split second when you feel that spark, and go 'Oh,
yeah, somebody pass me my Altoids!' Without the opportunity to experience that
spark, your first awareness of that person, what you get when you finally meet
them, is clouded by everything that proceeded it - the chat sessions, the late
night phone sex (or so I've heard), and quite frankly the lies that people tell
when they're safely hidden behind a computer screen or telephone. Or what's
worse, you experience a 'fake' spark, brought on by only one or two facets of
the person ' their voice, their personality. I was trying to explain this to
Lois, but she wasn't following.
'I'm not following ' if somebody floats your boat, if you make a connection be
it over the phone, or wherever, why would it be so hard to keep it going after
you've met?'
I could understand her confusion. For whatever reason, Lois simply didn't have
the dating problems that I had. What's more, I had once seen her reduce a
250-pound ex-linebacker to tears for being five minutes late for a date. She
just doesn't take crap off of anyone. As she continued to chat on incessantly
about the appropriate way to handle any man, in any situation, I silently
wondered to myself if my problem was that I was just not like her ' if maybe my
problem was that men could smell desperation on me the way grizzly bears or
cheetahs smelled fear on their prey. I wondered if men would flock to me like
they do to her, with an air of reverence and respect, if I could somehow grow a
dating back-bone? Nah. Probably not.
''and then you just oil them down, Shellie-poo, and do what you gotta do!'
Clearly I had completely lost track of what she was saying. 'Why get so worked
up about it?'
'Because, people lie Lois, they just ' lie! They say they look like people they
don't, they say they have stuff they don't have - they lie!' Heck. Even I had
never been entirely honest about what I did for a living when asked by a date.
'Riiiight. I see what you mean. Man, if some guy lied to me over the phone and
told me he drove a Ferrari, then pulled up in front of my house in a Ugo talkin'
about I just wanted you to love me for me, I'd have to take his ass hostage! I'd
hold a pistol to his head until the cops got somebody to come and pick me up in
a Ferrari!'
Sigh. Again, she was missing the point. There is no getting around the fallacy
that comes with online and telephone dating. The anonymity they provide levels
the playing field for everyone. Anyone can be gorgeous, successful,
well-adjusted, and not living with their parents, even if just for a chat
session or two. They can own as many houses as they want, drive whatever car
they want, and boast about whatever career they want. And it seems never once do
these people think about the possibility that the truth will be revealed ' as it
almost always is.
This particular theory of mine was about to be proven out in bright, bold, stark
reality by the guy who had the honor of being the first one to leave me a
message on the Hot 99 Link up Line ' CJ.
CJ had left me his number almost immediately and asked me to call him, and Lois,
of course, was trying to convince me to do just that. The thing was, in spite of
my excitement earlier in the day I just couldn't make myself do it. From the
moment I listened to his profile, I felt like there was something not right
about the guy. I should have listened to that little voice that was yelling
inside my head ' unfortunately, as always, I had allowed Lois to drown it out.
So I called him, and the first thing I noticed about CJ was his voice. It was
deep and smooth, and he used it like it was an instrument that he had mastered
at Julliard. It was just ' sexy, plain and simple, and it mesmerized me almost
from the beginning. Like one of those bright lights that fishermen use on the
end of their fishing hooks to lull stupid fish into chomping down on a lure.
Just call me a short-nose sucker.
(Author's note: a short nose sucker is a species of fish ' does this work?*)
And he knew it. He worked it like a rib. And not just any rib ' a rib from a
half-rack of those
St.-Louis-style-fall-off-the-bone-make-you-slap-an-elderly-female-relative ribs.
The phone rang just once before he answered. I think it was actually half a
ring. 'Hey, Miss Lady! I've been waiting to hear from you' That was the way he
answered the phone ' oh, he was good. He was even working the caller ID.
'Hello, CJ. This is Shelby, from the Link Up Line?'
'Baby, I know who you are'I've been waiting for you to call me since yesterday.
I heard your profile. It was so cute, boo, I just had to get to know the woman
behind it.'
Minor heart rate increase. He thought my profile was cute. 'Well, thank you. I
liked your profile quite a bit too,' I lied. I'd found it lacking in substance,
but his voice was nice, so'
'So tell me about yourself, Shelby. What brings you to the Hot 99 Link Up Line?'
'Well, I guess the same thing that brings everyone ' I'm looking for someone to
get to know, you know, spend a little time with, see what happens. You?'
'The same. My last relationship ended pretty badly about six months ago. I've
been out of commission ever since. you're the first woman I've reached out to
since then. One of my boys told me about the service ' he's been hounding me day
and night about getting back in the game, although I still belong on the
relationships disabled list if you ask me,' he said with a nervous laugh.
I smiled. He was soft-spoken, and kind of witty. He also seemed slightly
vulnerable, and was apparently saddled with a busy-body best friend just like I
was. I was beginning to feel a little more at ease, so I pushed past an awkward
pause.
'So' what do you like to do, CJ? How do you have fun?' I asked.
'Oh, I'm the quiet type. I like to fish ' my Daddy taught me to fish when I was
very young, and it's something I've just continued into my adulthood. It's a
very soothing activity for me, it keeps me centered, you know?'
'Oh, yeah, sure, I know' I had no idea how therapeutic the act of dropping a
long wire into a body of water in the hopes of duping an innocent, unsuspecting
animal into literally committing suicide by tricking him into having a meal
could really be, but I wasn't about to say so. I wanted him to keep opening up
to me.
'Other than that, I do the normal. Dinners, movies, plays. Hanging out at the
park ' the simple things, if you know what I mean.'
'Yes. Yes, I do.' He had me at the Daddy story. Anyone who is sensitive enough
to mention his father on a get-to-know-someone call couldn't be all bad.
CJ and I spoke on the phone everyday for over a week. I learned that he had two
kids from a previous relationship, but that they were living in another state.
He told me that he one day wanted to mentor disadvantaged youth on the dangers
of selling and using drugs, because he'd seen his community ravaged by them. He
seemed deep, introspective even. And he always gave me equal talk time. This was
a MAJOR turn on. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, about
everything. He just seemed so'so'sensitive.
************************************
It was a week and a half after my first phone call with CJ, and I was bending
Lois' ear about him, like I had done every day since I'd first spoken with him.
'Oh, and he wants to help underprivileged youth, Lois! Can you believe that?'
'Un-huh. So what does he do, Shelby? Have you guys gotten around to that yet?'
'Well, no, I, we haven't I''
'Uh-huh. And what kind of car does he drive Shelby? Where does he live, Shelby?
What does he LOOK like Shelby'.'
'Car? Live? I,I I-just haven't gotten around to asking all of that Lois!'
'Gotten around to it? When do you plan to get around to it, after the wedding?
After your first kid gets out of college? Come, on Shelby, if you don't ask now,
how do you know he's somebody you want to be bothered with?'
'Because he seems very'caring. Very in to me. It's been a while since anyone
really made me feel that way.' I was whining now, in my best
please-don't-ruin-this-for-me voice.
'A series of two-word phrases for you, Shelby. 'Background check'. 'Serial
Killer'. 'Married Man'. 'Recent Quadriplegic'. 'Gigolo'''
'Gigolo's only one word..' I was grasping. She was raining on my love parade.
'Okay, professional gigolo. Get to the nitty-gritty on his ass - ask the man,
for a photo and some references girl, sic a private detective on him ' do
something!'
Maybe she was right. I wasn't ready to get a private detective involved yet, but
I thought it probably was time for CJ and I to learn a bit more about each
other. The only way to do that, was to actually meet, go out on a date. I would
bring up the subject on our next phone call.
************************************
I called him from work the next day, on the same phone number that I always
called him on, and he answered, just like always.
'Hello?'
'Hi, CJ, it's Shelby ' how are you?'
'Hey, boo, I'm fine, how are you today?' He sounded so happy to hear from me.
Major heart rate increase.
'I'm doing good, doing well, thank you. I was wondering. We've been talking for
over a week now, and I've really enjoyed it. What would you think about getting
together, maybe having some dinner, catching a movie'.'
Long pause. Very long pause. Excruciatingly, long pause. And then. 'Uh, yeah.
That would be cool.'
That would be cool. That would be cool. That would be friggin' cool. There was a
sudden and unexplained, almost cataclysmic drop of enthusiasm in his voice that
made me a little nervous. I shrugged it off. I would not come to understand the
reason for it until the night of our date.
We made plans for the following weekend. I would meet him at a local restaurant
at 7 o'clock for dinner, and then we would catch a movie. I was as nervous as it
was humanly possible to be. I hadn't been on an actual date in so long I
couldn't even remember it. I had to make sure my look was tight!
I took the afternoon off on the day of our date, called the babysitter, and
spent four hours at a salon. I had my short, natural hair cut, washed and oiled.
I also had my nails done, got a pedicure, and had my eyebrows waxed. When I left
the salon, I stopped at my favorite clothing store and picked up a silky black
pants-suit, with a blouse that dipped enough in the front to reveal what my Mama
gave me, and that had a look that was feminine enough to show off my tall, curvy
five foot nine frame. When it was time to get in my car and head to midtown to
meet CJ, my caramel skin was glowing - I looked better than I had in years. I
was a knock-out!
I drove the ten minutes or so to the restaurant in no time flat. I was meeting
him at Houston's, a popular midtown spot with a variety of
not-that-inexpensively priced menu items. I was impressed with his choice of
restaurant for a first date ' not too pricey so as to feign affluence, but not
so crappy as to offend. I was really feeling this guy.
I pulled into the parking lot at five minutes before the hour and waited. I'd
forgotten to ask what kind of car he would be driving, though I did remember to
mention to him that I'd be standing outside my car in a black pant suit. My
heart was racing a mile a minute. Was this it? Was I about to meet the man that
I might spend the rest of my life with? Sure, we had lots to learn about each
other, a lot to get to know. I just couldn't help but fantasize about the moment
our eyes would meet, the first kiss we would share'
My musings were interrupted by the sound of a loud, whining motor from a car
that had just pulled into the parking lot. The driver was leaned back as far as
he could possibly lean in the seat without completely obstructing his view of
the road, and he seemed to be frantically searching for something. Or someone.
Though at the time I would not let myself make the connection, I did notice that
the guy was driving a 1977 Delta 88. I couldn't tell the color because it was
almost completely rusted over. A Delta 88. Gosh, I hadn't seen one of those in
years! Well, except in the movies. Yes, definitely in the movies. Bulletproof
Heart, 1994. Mobsters driving one on a hit. Uh, Heat 1995. Al Pacino parks next
to one abandoned outside of a chop shop. What else? Oh - Kiss of Death. The feds
grab David Caruso out of a blue 4-door..
'Shelby? Shelby? Is that you?'
My walk down the history of Delta eighty-eights in contemporary film was
interrupted by the guy from the smoky car calling my name, as he walked across
the parking lot, waving exhaust fumes away from his face. No. No.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I wanted to run, vanish, sink into the ground like the wicked
witch from the Wizard of Oz. I wanted to exclaim, 'Shelby not heah, you go home
now! You go home now, you go!' in the best Asian accent I could muster, but I
was stunned, glued to the spot where I had been waiting. All I could manage was
a faint''CJ?'
Of course, it was CJ. He was the driver of the rusty Delta 88. And he was
walking toward me, wearing a faded blue Polo knock off and dirty tan khakis. On
his feet, he wore a pair of black dress shoes that I was fairly certain were
exactly like a pair my Uncle Joe had been buried in. He wore no socks. He had
cruddy medium brown skin, and a scraggly hit and miss goatee that didn't cover
his entire chin. He was probably five feet five inches tall. There could only be
one explanation for this. God hates me.
'Hey baby, how you doin'?' he greeted me with a hug. What was that smell? Oh
dear god! What WAS that?!? He smelled like he'd spent the last seven years in a
cave conducting archaeological experiments! He smelled like beer-battered
garbage!
'Hey'uh, CJ, how are you?' I gagged silently. The hug wasn't ending. I needed
the hug to end, and it wasn't ending. I tried to pull myself out of his grip
long enough to cover my nose with the stuffed Mickey Mouse on my key chain, but
I just ended up stabbing myself in the eyelid with my house key.
He didn't seem to notice when I jerked myself out of his grasp. 'It's real cool
to finally meet you, baby, real cool.' If it weren't for that voice, I simply
would not have believed that this was the same silky smooth conversationalist
that I had spent the last few days making plans with. I had wasted so many hours
imagining what he would look like. His face, his build, everything had begun to
take shape in my mind, the way it does when you read a book, the way your
imagination helps a character to take on a physical persona as the story
progresses. The man that stood before me right now was the polar OPPOSITE of
what I had imagined. He looked to be about my age, but he was dressed like an
extra from 'Good Times'.
The alarm bells in my head were clanging away - I would rather have been
abducted by aliens, dragged off screaming into the night by a Klansman, forced
to relive the horrors of the Holocaust ' I was sure that anything would be
better than what I was about to endure. But I couldn't leave, I just couldn't. I
simply did not have it in me to be that rude. And I was beginning to feel
ashamed of myself, I mean here was a nice, albeit short guy, that not three
minutes ago was the subject of my major white-picket-fence fantasy. How shallow
was I? Just because he (for whatever reason) could not afford a car that was
built in this decade, or, clothes, or shoes, or apparently toiletry items or
water, didn't mean I shouldn't'oh forget it - I would just have dinner with him
and make an excuse to leave afterward.
There was a definite disparity here, with me in my brand new silk pant suit, and
CJ in his J-J Evans outfit. When we walked into the restaurant, I was certain I
could hear the whispers of disapproving diners, but maybe it was just my
imagination. At least that's what I thought, anyway, until a brother so fine I
was sure he was an apparition walked by us both and looked at me like I had a
skunk on my head. Or maybe it was the skunk on my arm that he disapproved of.
The greeter guided us to our table. 'Your waitress will be right with you. Enjoy
your dinner.' I wasn't sure that I would even be able to taste my dinner. How
was it possible that a grown man could smell this bad and not know it?
'Well, baby, I hope you're happy with what you see', CJ remarked, as he settled
into his chair. Thank god I could see at all - my eye sight was the only thing I
had left. My sense of smell had been obliterated outside the restaurant.
'I - hope you are too, CJ.' I sipped my water. I held my breath. I prayed for
the second coming. I tried to make small talk. 'So, CJ.' 'What made you pick
this place?'
'I've always wanted to eat here. I've heard their food is SLAMMIN'!'
He yelled the word 'slammin' almost at the top of his lungs. The smoothness, the
cool he exuded in all of our phone conversations ' melted away before my very
eyes. I was in shock.
'Yeah, I've eaten here before, it's great.' I thought I would just try and be
cordial, make it through dinner, and then get the heck out of there.
'Shelby, baby'.you are so much more attractive than I expected. And so dressed
up. You did all that for, me, huh, baby?'
Thanks for the painful reminder. 'Well, you know'' I trailed off, suddenly
almost choking from the disappointment. And the thought of what I'd gone through
in order to prepare for this stink-fest.
'Well, I feel like I've hit a real jackpot, baby. I felt a connection between me
and you immediately. I told my mother before I left the house that I had a real
good feeling about tonight, though she wouldn't listen, she was too busy trying
to get my Dad to '..'
I was hearing things. Mother? Left the house? He lives with his mother?!?
'So, you live with your, your parents, then.' I interrupted. It was a statement
and a question at the same time.
'Uh, yeah, I hope that's not a problem. I'm in between situations, and their
basement was free, you understand.'
'Yes, yes, of course.' No, no, of course not. Well, at least that explained the
smell.
It was just about then that the waitress returned to the table. 'Hi, I'm Becky,
I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?'
Before I could part my lips, CJ responded, 'Can I see your drink menu?' The
waitress turned his menu over to reveal the wide array of alcoholic beverages
available from the bar. CJ chose the one with the most liquor. 'I'll have the
Sex on the Beach ' thanks!'
Not with me you won't, Dr. Funkenstein. 'I'll have a Diet Coke. Thank you.' No
alcohol for me ' I'd need my wits about me if I was going to make it out of here
with my dignity in tact. The waitress brought our drinks back almost immediately
and asked if we were ready to place our order. I hadn't even had a chance to
look at the menu, when CJ began running down a list of what he'd be having.
'Yes, I'll have the stuffed mushrooms and the sampler for starters, and for my
meal, I'll have the Newburg Lobster Pie with a loaded baked potato. What about
you, baby?'
Gee, thanks. 'I'll have the Tilapia in herb wine butter, please, thank you.' I
might as well have something I'd enjoy. That the smell from the fish might block
out his scent would just be a perk.
I spent the rest of the meal in a state of mounting rage. I was experiencing the
four stages of relationship grief ' shock, denial, anger, and Haagen-Dazs. Right
now, I was solidly in the anger stage. This man was clearly not what I thought
he was - he would NOT stop talking about himself. I felt like someone had
replaced the CJ I'd been talking to all week with this broke, more selfish,
smellier version of him. He talked on and on about the challenges of living at
home. He talked about how hard it was to borrow his 'Daddy's' car to get
anywhere ' BORROW? He didn't even own that nightmare of a car?!?
And then, quite suddenly, he launched into a series of coughs, hacks, and honks
that brought the attention of the entire restaurant to our table. What fresh
hell was this?
'I'm sorry, baby. I have to clear my sinuses sometimes in order to enjoy my
food. Sorry'.'
Convenience store here I come - I knew I'd be in stage four before the night was
through, but somehow, I found the intestinal fortitude to make it through the
meal. When the check came he just stared at it. Then we stared at each other,
motionless. It was obvious. I was going to pay. I was so mad that I just
snatched the check, and reached for my purse and my American Express card.
'Uh, I thought if you could pick up dinner, I would pay for the movie.' Explains
the restaurant choice.
'Sure, that's fine.' I said. It was NOT fine. I just wanted this over with. I
waited for the waitress to return with my credit card, and then grabbed my purse
and stood up to start out of the restaurant, with CJ in hot pursuit. When I got
to my car and realized he was still right beside me, I turned to him and said,
'Listen. I've had a very long day, and I think I'd like to just call it a night.
Would you mind?'
'What? Come on, baby, I thought we were going to catch a movie, boo. you're not
gonna buy me dinner and not let me return the favor, are you?' We'd have to find
a theatre showing every movie made this year and see every single one of them
back to back to make up for what I'd paid for that meal. I guess I could endure
another hour and a half of his company. A good movie would be the only thing I'd
get out of this experience, and I was all dressed up. Maybe I could slip my
number to a cute security guard at the movie theatre or something.
'Alright, fine. Movie it is.' I followed him to the theatre up the street,
parked my car, and waited on the curb while he found a parking space that he
could manage to maneuver his father's car into. The exhaust fumes carpeted the
parking lot, and I heard movie goers openly complaining about the moron in the
death mobile. It was like a bad episode from the Twilight Zone.
When he finally made it to the theatre entrance, I had decided I'd like to see
the latest Denzel Washington movie, and said so. 'No, no, look baby, I've been
dying to see this movie, it's a re-released Karate film. You'll love it, I
promise!'
Love it? The last time I'd seen a Karate film I was 12 years old! 'No, CJ, I'm
pretty sure I won't love it.' It was getting harder and harder to disguise my
anger. 'I would really rather see this movie, if you don't mind, where are you
going?' He had taken off for the ticket booth.
'Two tickets for Ninja, Bloody, Ninja, please.' I was NOT believing this! He was
going to make me see a movie that I didn't want to see. This should have been an
indicator of what was to come. I should have made a run for my car then. Why I
didn't, I'll never know.
I caught up with him. 'You'll like it, baby, I promise you will'' His voice had
suddenly become silky smooth again. He had snuck around behind me, and was now
lightly holding the back of my neck and rubbing his thumb up and down my left
shoulder blade. 'We've got a couple minutes before the show starts. Would you
like to go to my car, and...wait?'
'Oh, look, video games!' I broke for the front door. I'd never played a video
game in my entire life, but I was not about to go and sit in the smoke stack on
wheels with this loser!
I opened the door to the theatre and felt the rush of cool air. It felt so good
against my skin. I could do this, I could do this. I would get through the
movie, and then bolt. I'd be on Lennox Road in plenty of time to hit the all
night QT and grab a pint of chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream. I would make it
through this, I would'.
'Aw, man, Drive By! My favorite game, baby!' He was way too excited. He had
spotted a video game that he was familiar with, I guess. Good. He could amuse
himself all he wanted. I would just wait for this nightmare to end so that I
could go home and fire my best friend.
Before I knew it, he had thrown a handful of quarters in the machine, grabbed
the attached gun and started firing at pretend cops with a passion, abandon, and
skill that said 'this-man-has-played-this-game-recently-and-probably-plays-it-often.'
I was so embarrassed, I could hardly breathe. He was yelling at the game at the
top of his lungs, people were starting to stare'.
'Take THAT mutha-fucka, take THAT! Yeah, yeah, I gotchu, mutha-fucka, you can't
outrun me, you can't outrun, me, yeah, yeah!'
I was mortified. How could I have been this wrong about another human being?!?
He was bobbing and weaving like a prizefighter, jumping back and forth in front
of the game. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the theater's security guard put
a hand on his pistol (so much for the phone number slip). All I could do was
look around the room at the onlookers apologetically and pray for his quarters
to run out.
When they finally did, we went into the movie theatre and sat down. CJ had
worked up a sweat battling the cops on the mean streets of video game land. I
promised myself that no matter what happened after this, I would have to find a
way to send him an anonymous note about his hygiene. Damn!
'Okay, okay, this is it, baby, this is it!' The movie was starting. I settled
down in my seat and prepared to try and at least enjoy the solitude. The opening
of the movie was the bloodiest, dumbest twenty minutes I had ever witnessed on
film. This was not my normal movie-going fare, but it was a small price to pay
if it meant I could get away from this lunatic when it was over.
The movie was ridiculous, and horribly acted and directed. I had just gotten
over the shock of the opening fight scene when the sound of CJ's snoring started
drowning out the remarkably bad dialog. He had fallen asleep. Wow.
I grabbed my purse, and tip-toed out of the theatre. Plain old
chocolate-chocolate chip wasn't going to cut it this time. This time, I was
headed down a very, very, rocky road.
Excerpt #3 The Body The Voice (part II)
I got back home exactly one hour before Bruce was due to arrive. It was 7:30,
the sun was going down, and I was almost ready.
We had talked very frankly about what tonight would be about. No movies, no
heart-to-heart discussions, this was a night for sexual healing, and I was the
patient. We felt we had waited the required amount of time, and it was time for
the erotic, late night conversations to end. He wanted me, and I wanted him, and
tonight it was time to give in.
It was the weekend, and my son was with his father, as always. I did a last
minute check of the condo to make sure everything was spotless and in order, and
it was. I cut up some cheese (Bruce loved cheese) and arranged it on a small
silver serving tray with strawberries, and a small container of melted
chocolate, and placed it on a night stand beside my bed. After that, I installed
the blue light bulb, and heated the small bottle of jojoba oil I had gotten from
a Little Five Points street vendor. One minute in the microwave, per his
instructions. Yep, the place was definitely ready now.
Only forty-five minutes until he was to arrive. I slipped into my bathroom and
took a long, hot bath, washed and oiled my hair, and opened the box with the
lingerie I had bought just for the occasion - a black, see-through teddy, with
matching lace panties and a recessed back that left nothing to the imagination.
I would answer the door, however, wearing a cover wrap in black satin that was
short enough to show my newly shaved and moisturized legs, but long enough to
keep the teddy a surprise ' he would love it!
I had a bottle of red burgundy on ice in a bucket in the living room ' I found
that particular brand of wine velvety, and sensuous, and I hoped Bruce would
feel the same. Everything was all set. I applied lots of lotion and perfumed my
self to perfection, slipped into my teddy and cover wrap, and slid the empty box
under my bed. He'd be here in five minutes and I wanted to be waiting for him in
the living room, wine in hand ' I couldn't wait to see his face when he saw me!
The doorbell rang at exactly 8:30. Bruce was never late, and that made me love
him all the more ' wait ' who was that using the 'L' word? Damn it all, it was
me! Oh, who was I kidding, of course I was falling for the man! I would resolve
not to use that word tonight however, unless he of course used it first. Glad
that was settled.
I pressed play on the CD player, grabbed the bottle of wine and my two crystal
flutes and headed for the front door. One last glance at myself in the mirror,
and I reached for the knob, turned it and let the door swing open. What awaited
me there almost made me pass out.
There was Bruce, standing on my doorstep in all black, with a fresh shave, and
wearing a silk muscle shirt that was literally making love to his chest and
arms. He wore a thin gold necklace around his neck, and his slacks were pressed
to perfection. In one hand he held a bouquet of assorted lilies in pale orange,
pink, and white, and in the other, his favorite book of poetry. Poetry for after
we made love, I hoped, but it was an extremely romantic gesture, either way.
'Hi baby, these are for you', he said in that incredibly deep voice. I trembled.
As I sat down the wine glasses and bottle and took the flowers out of his hand,
he wrapped his arms around me and placed a kiss on my neck.
'Hi yourself, sexy.' I was almost hoarse with yearning. It had been so long, I
had waited so, very, long''
'You look so beautiful, Shelby Stewart.' He pulled away. I laid the flowers next
to the wine bucket. Then I took a step back and sashayed for him, turning my
back to him and slowly letting my cover wrap slip below my shoulders and then
slowly down my hips to the floor. He smiled his appreciation, then took my hand
and led me to the living room couch. 'Come here, baby,' he said. I allowed him
to lead me toward the sofa. I'd wanted to hit the bed first, but starting out
here was fine with me, too. I was so turned on already!
'Let me read something to you. It's beautiful, just like you.' Damn. More
poetry, huh? Okay, one poem and we were off and running. Actually, it was kind
of romantic. He started with some well-known Shakespeare.
'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love,
which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh,
no!' I jumped. 'It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests.. and is never
shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown, although
his height be taken'.'
This was beautiful, but already a little too long. I reached for his thigh, and
he grabbed my hand and gently placed it back in my lap where it had been resting
as he continued reading. Huh? I waited patiently and prayed for it to be over.
''love is not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending
sickle's compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out.. even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me
proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved'' He closed the book with one hand
and stroked my face with the other. I turned into the caress and kissed the
inside of his hand.
'That was beautiful baby, really beautiful. God you look so good, baby..' I
reached for him again, and again, he grabbed both my hands and placed them back
in my lap. What the f*#@$ was going on here?
'But were you listening to the words, Shelby? Did you really hear the words?'
Admittedly, they were partially drowned out by the sound of my own lust, but
yeah, I'd heard most of it.
'Yes, baby, it was beautiful, so beautiful, just like you in that shirt'' I
reached for his chest, and he jumped away from his spot and moved further down
the sofa. If this had been a sitcom, I would have looked into the camera. What
the hell?!?
He hurriedly began flipping through the pages of his poetry book. 'Baby, baby,
let me read you one more. This one was meant for you and I, it was written for
tonight.' It wasn't written for THIS night - not unless it was a detailed blow
by blow from the uncut version of Hump and Grind 3.
I decided to try to be patient, because the poetry really was quite beautiful.
This obviously meant a lot to him, and I was disgusted with myself that it
didn't mean a lot to me. God, he just looked so good sitting there, his muscles
bulging through his sleeves, his chest heaving up and down.
'And wilt thou have me fashion into speech, the love I bear thee, finding words
enough, and hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, between our faces, to
cast light upon each'.'
It was wonderful, it really was. I sat at my end of the couch with my legs
crossed, and listened, and waited. And listened, and waited. And with the end of
each new poem, Bruce would lean over, kiss me gently on a new part of my body,
and then restrain me if I tried to touch him. It was like an ancient torture
technique, and I was tiring of it fast!
He was flipping through the pages again, about to kick off poem number eight.
Before I knew what I was doing, I slid over to where he was, and literally
climbed on top of his right knee. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders,
and buried my face in his neck, and slowly started to lick. He didn't move, he
fell silent ' finally sweet silence, gentle nectar of auditory nothingness, I'd
finally broken through!
'Oh, Shelby'' it started deep in his chest, and he said it over and over again.
'Oh, Shelby, oh Shelby..'
'Come on, baby, let's go to bed baby..' I hopped off of his knee, grabbed his
hand, and pulled him off of the couch. This was it - we were headed to love
land!
'Wait - just'one, more poem, baby? I have so much I wanted you to hear'' I
couldn't believe my ears!
'Put'.the DAMNED'book down, Bruce'.I need you, and I need you now, baby.' I
almost exploded, but somehow, I made the demand sound sexy, wanton.
He couldn't take it anymore. He threw the book down and picked me up in both
arms and began to kiss me. I wrapped my legs around him and met his kiss with
matched abandon. He carried me through the front room to my bedroom and laid me
on my bed.
What happened next, would have sent most women over the edge.
At first, he just stood there at the foot of my bed and looked at me. I was on
my back, chest heaving, and barely dressed waiting for him to jump me. He began
slowly and methodically emptying out his pockets, and placing the contents on my
dresser. That took all of thirty seconds. I laid there in shock, my breathing
stabilizing again, wondering what part of it's time to have sex this man wasn't
clear about.
After he'd gone through his pockets one last time to make sure that they were
empty, he began very matter-of-factly removing his clothing. First, he unbuckled
his belt, removed it, and laid it gingerly across a chair. Then, he unbuttoned
his slacks, slid them down his legs, FOLDED THEM, and laid them next to the
belt.
I looked at the clock on the wall. Through the blue haze I could see that it was
almost nine-fifteen. I let my head fall backwards and closed my eyes. Keith
Sweat had already started round two of Make it Last Forever and he wasn't even
undressed yet!
Finally, after having removed and neatly folded his shirt, he turned his back to
me and removed his underwear. There. He was nude. What was the hold up now?
There was no hold up. He turned suddenly, and lunged towards the bed and in one
movement, grabbed me and forced me into a missionary position. Suddenly, he was
in a very big hurry, and I needed to catch up. I had been smart enough to lay
several condoms on my night stand, and as Bruce fumbled with removing my teddy,
I grabbed one and handed it to him. I never got an answer to the oil massage
question because before I knew what was happening, he had ripped open the condom
package, adorned the contents and fallen back on top of me, apparently more than
ready to get right to the act.
In fact, I believe that completely unbeknownst to me, we had already gotten down
to the act. Problem was, I couldn't feel a thing ' not a single crap-damned
thing. Oh, I felt his gyrations, I felt him grinding into me, I even felt his
mouth on my breasts, but I felt absolutely nothing'down there. Then, 45 seconds
later, it was over, and I had no clue of what the hell had just happened.
'Oh, baby'.' He managed to utter through his labored breathing. 'That was SOOOO
good'ummmmmmm'' Again with the friggin' moaning! He was still on top of me,
pinning me down, and I was staring up at the ceiling fan wishing it would
dislodge and knock him out so I could figure out what was going on. 'Uh, baby,
next time, get the Magnum brand condoms, the large size, okay? They fit me
better baby'' he trailed off into a loud snore.
Buy Magnums for WHAT, to make water balloons? Was he serious? What kind of Jedi
mind trick was that? He had the smallest penis I had ever encountered, hands
down. How was it possible that someone this beautiful, a specimen of a man this
perfect could be so lacking in a male appendage? My physical disappointment was
overwhelming. I tried to wake him up to get him to do something, anything, but
he was fast asleep. I lay there like a rag doll swearing under my breath. That
was it. I was buying a vibrator.
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More About The Author:
Patricia
Wilson-Smith
