Beauty of Man and Woman - Volume 13: Bomaw Read online

  This situation with Derrick - he hadn’t come for that and wasn’t about to give comment on it. Besides, they all knew - knew what he knew. There was nothing anyone could do about it. Derrick had had the chance to do something about it and failed. Bart had done all that he could to drill it into his boys that this world was not a just one. It was filled with all kinds of dangerous people, men and women. Relying on a broken system such as this, with twisted laws and codes, and ethics that failed more innocent than saved, could not be relied upon to protect anyone. He’d drilled that into them. Derrick chose to turn his back on all that he’d instructed because he didn’t approve of the way Bart had delivered the lessons. Looking back, Bart supposed he could have done better, but the past could not be undone, Bart had to live with that past. Subsequently, Derrick rejected his wisdom - he too must now live with a past act that could not be undone. With no choice, he had to live with his failure where there was no healing or correction that could make it right. He’d had one chance - that chance was gone. Bart had to look away. Come what may, his son’s lives were their own. When they blew it, he was helpless as their father to do anything about it. This was one of the reasons he didn’t like to be in the midst of his children. He didn’t want to be a witness, or onlooker of their failings. He’d done his best to raise men. As men, it was up to them to act accordingly when their families were under threat - if they didn’t - sobeit. His eyes rolled to Shawn, “How much longer you think your mother’s gonna be in there.”

  Shrugging, Shawn didn’t know what to say.

  Bart stood, sighed. “Guess I’ll be heading back - knowing Gert, this’ll be ah’all-nighter.”

  “Bart, why don’t you just stay here, you don’t have to go home.” Sylvia offered, “It’s not like we don’t have plenty of room, you’ll be comfortable.”

  “Lil’lady, I thank you for the offer,” he drawled slow and easy as his sons stood to see him out, “…but I’m inclined to my own bed.” He smiled walking up to her and gave her a kiss to her forehead. His large hand gently stroked her ever expanding girth, commenting, “Yep, he’s gone be a big one - bes’ get ready.” He teased her smiling.

  Sylvia groaned, “Don’t I know it and I’m trying to get ready, believe me I am.” She sighed resigned to having no choice but deliver him when the day arrived.

  Vivian shook her head, scared to make any comment - after all - she was already thickening around the waist with a bulge for just her 3rd month. Some women didn’t even show by then. Granted, she’d had a tiny waist to begin with, so more than likely, it didn’t take much to show a difference in her. Her doctor, who was also Sylvia’s wanted her to come in for an ultra sound, but she put it off. She heard they weren’t safe for babies and told Dr. Edmond she was willing to do it only once and then only after the baby had fully developed somewhere past the halfway point. Perhaps at a little over twenty weeks. She would then feel comfortable enough to go ahead with it. Plus, she had also wanted to wait until they could be sure of the sex. She didn’t want any surprises - she wanted to know so they could decorate accordingly. In any case, because of what was coming down the road for her, she wasn’t about to tease Sylvia, or make light of what Jesse James was doing within.

  With the food packed away and distributed - Jake and Vivian were ready to leave, but the kids begged if they could walk over in another hour or so. Jake wasn’t having it. “No effen way you walkin’ this time of night, you-…”

  “Jake! Don’t use that language with these kids.” Vivian corrected him.

  “What? I said effen, not the word.” Sighing, he looked back at them. This was their Uncle Jake, no surprises there, they knew him so weren’t offended.

  Paul, once more came to the rescue, “I’ll bring them.”

  “Your car cannot hold all of them.”

  “Sure it can - don’t worry, we’ll work it out. I’ll get them there, safe and sound.” Paul promised. He knew how badly his cousins wanted to enjoy themselves with Mundo. Besides, he’d be off to school the next day - he would have been gone already but stayed for that evening and Mama Jojo - so it gave him time to spend with them before he left. In agreement finally - Jake and Vivian left but gave a time that they were to arrive and no later.

  The newlyweds departed.

  In the short ride home, they were quiet and thinking. Vivian was trying to figure out how to get around his next inquiry assault. She knew it was coming, after all, she could see it was on his mind. Mama Jojo and Gert had them all thinking. He pulled into their yard, up to the barn and cut the engine in the truck and turned to her. Vivian yawned a bit too dramatically opening her door, “I’m exhausted.”

  Jake exploded, laughing out loud shaking his head, “Sorry, I’m not buying it. Black women never yawn dramatically and say, I’m exhausted. Bull! It’s either I’m so tired, or I’m so sleepy. It’s not going to work.” He launched his small scale attack immediately, grinning the whole time.

  Rapidly twisting her head around, half in and out of the passenger side, “What?! Who? Excuse me? What you mean black women don’t say, I’m exhausted? We do too!”

  “Ha! It’s the first time I ever hear it from you. Despite what you may think, I’m listening. You say, I’m so tired, or - man am I sleepy.”

  Vivian could not believe the nerve of this man, “Excuse you - I have too said exhausted! I’ve said exhausted many times! Ain’t you ‘bout a trip!” She griped, slipping into slang.

  Jake stepped from the truck laughing; oh she was wound up now.

  “Let’s face it,” She went on, head on full rotation, “…you ain’t had a whole lot of black women experience!” She charged, slamming her door to follow him across the dark garden, going for the stairs, across the porch that led to the kitchen. Where there, she shifted her feet from her shoes. Too worked up to see Jake hadn’t removed his.

  “Ah, and another one you say, - you’re worn out. Yeah,” Jake winked, nodding mannishly, “You definitely say I’m worn out.” He chuckled having himself a good time, working the key in the door.

  Vivian did a shake of her head while rolling her eyes, “Here we go,” She smirked, “And… I have said… exhausted as well!” Her hands were on her hips, purse dangled from one hand, “You just choose not to remember.”

  “Nope, never said it!”

  “Have too!”

  “Never heard it, you never said it!” He pushed opened the door strolling in.

  Walking in behind him, “I have too I’m telling you! Take it back, or I will have to tell Sylvia and Sheila about this! Tryin’ to profile and stereotype us - black women!”

  “Not! Never did it, ‘sides, I’ll deny it.”

  “They not gonna believe you over me!”

  “Hey, what have I told you, lil’girl, you women don’t scare me. You just women, just cause you black, don’t make you bad. Don’t make you a man. I’m a man, I can handle all of you! Yeah, that’s right! At once, at the same time, with my arms tied behind my back, standing on one leg, blind-folded, half drunk in the winter on slippery ice - tell’em!”

  Having paused to hear all of that, Vivian burst into laughter, quirking her lips, “Just for that, I am.” She tossed her purse on the side table by the kitchen door.

  “Admit it lil’girl - you over did it again. You threw that up to block me from asking any more about mom, Mama Jojo and whatever else you women are keeping hush-hush.” He announced, going to the refrigerator to pull a beer from the rack within. Cracking open the Budweiser he leaned against his immaculate kitchen counter to gulp down a few swallows. Standing at ease in his home, he watched his wife open the basement door, click on the lights and go through her late night routine of throwing a load of clothes in the washer.

  “Landsakes lil’girl - leave it alone for once. Laundry can wait - damn house is too clean. You know, I bet it’s not healthy for a house not to let at least a lint of dust touch down.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” She yelled from the basement.

&
nbsp; Jake sighed and followed her, “Oh I’m not trying to change the subject, just don’t you go trying to shift what the subject is. This subject is nothing to do with black women saying, exhaustion,-…”

  “Exhausted!” She cut him off correcting.

  “Don’t be pedantic - exhaustion, exhausted - either case, this discussion is about what you know.”

  “Which is nothing.” It was then she noticed his shoes, “You still have your shoes on? In my house?”

  Jake stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked at the shoes on his feet, one hand still holding his beer, and then up at his wife - who was glaring at him as if he’d gone up to Moses after coming down from the mountain taking one of the tablets and breaking it himself.

  “Lil’girl, I will have you to know, that this is my home - my castle! I’m the man of this house - dammit! If I wanna walk through it with my shoes on, muddy from a pig sty, I will!”

  Vivian lifted a brow at him, pinching her lips closed in a grim thin line of warning. Placing her hand on her hip, which was cocked to the side, looking bold and bad as if she were seconds off of him for not removing his shoes - she waited. Standing as if she could beat up ten men.

  Grumbling, Jake sat on one of the lower steps and kindly removed his shoes.

  “Thank you.” Vivian offered politely. Turning back to her tucked away laundry area beneath the stairs, she tossed in a load of his work clothes. She always used the basement set to wash his things - the sheets and blankets. Her laundry set upstairs, she used for her delicate articles - not wishing them to get his work smells mixed in with them, just in case. His clothes always smelled of wood chip, woods, engine oil, chainsaw fuel and other hot and sweaty man funk - nope - not on her clothes.

  Jake sat working his toes, watching her through the stair banister spokes. For all of his huffing and blowing, she was what he’d always wanted for himself. Someone that made him feel good about being a man. Feel good about his home. Giving him a sense of need to be more than he’d ever been. He loved everything there was about Vivian Cooke-McPherson. He accepted that that was the way she signed everything, Cooke hyphenated with McPherson. He supposed it was a move caused by insecurity. In other words, she didn’t completely trust him - not enough to get rid of her birth name. He wished that he could be angry about that, but how could he? Immediately Jake shook it off not to let his thinking - his thoughts go there - not while he was home with his beautiful wife. Considering his true taste in women, it could be that some would accuse him of marrying a trophy wife. She was the epitome of black and beautiful - still to this day, he’d seen no other like her anywhere, and she was his. Smiling after those thoughts, he resumed the discussion with her. Already planning to make love to her that night, he hoped she felt all right to - because he loved lying in bed running his hands over her incredible black skin - black velvet.

  “I’ll hang those out before I head to work.” He offered instead of going on with the petty dispute. He did that for her. After all, she did everything in her power to make him happy. To keep their home beyond reproach. She took such pride in everything she did. And he took pride in her. She’d had him put up a clothes line so that on warm breezy days, she could hang the laundry out, thus, saving on electricity. But… in hanging it, he’d gone a bit too high on the first line out. She couldn’t reach it without a lot of stretching up or a step stool. So he hung the first load out there for her before he went off to work. He actually enjoyed doing little things like that for her. Truth of the matter, no matter what stupid things he sometimes did - he truly loved Vivian. His problem was, he was a snake - plain and simple. Jake shook his head again, trying not to go there.

  “Thanks. You want me to put together some of that food from tonight for your lunch tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be fine, you know me - long as it’s food.” He grinned at her. When she looked up smiling at him, he winked at her. Vivian still got giddy butterflies and hyper when he flirted with her. She loved that man, would go to hell and back for him. He is what she wanted, and because she got him, she would do her part and then some to keep him.

  “You’re a pretty woman Vivian - you know that? My god, I - I can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke his thoughts out loud. It still stunned her that he said such things, when she knew what he liked. Her heart quickened from his words. “Funny, sometimes when I look at you, I think the same.” She complimented in return.

  “What? You think I’m pretty?” He joked.

  Laughing, she shook her head, closing the double doors of her laundry closet as the sounds of water filling the wash came through and in no time, the whirring of her Maytag agitating. She walked to him as he sat on the stairs, lifting a hand, she offered it to him, “Let’s go to bed?” She asked.

  “The kids remember?” He reminded her.

  “Paul will see to them, you know how responsible he is.”

  Jake nodded, smiled, “So right you are… I tell you, I don’t know where he gets it from.”

  Simpering, teasing Vivian agreed, “I’ve often wondered that myself - must be from his mother’s side.”

  Jake laughed, stood, took his wife’s hand and pulled her up to pass him on the stairs as they made their way through the house. Unable to resist because he didn’t have to, he stroked and admired her firm perfect rear. “Hmmm, you got something on your mind?” She asked, feeling those familiar sensations of being turned on.

  “You know what’s on my mind, this sweet ass of yours. I’m missing it.”

  Vivian wiggled it a bit, because he had no problem with cupping and squeezing it all the way up, making her laugh. “You trying to carry me up?”

  “Will I win extra points? You okay - how you feelin’?” He drawled, an arousal was underway.

  “I feel pretty good.” She returned softly, wanting him every bit as much as he did her.

  Jake removed his large hand from her rump to rub the two together - eagerly anticipating the next hour or so. They’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs that would lead upstairs. “Wait right here, let me check and lock up the house.”

  “The kids remember, they’ll be here soon.” She started heading up as if to tell him not to waste much more time. Jake chuckled and growled, rushing to the kitchen to pour his unfinished beer out. “Wait, I’m carrying you remember?”

  “No extra points needed tonight,” She purred already at the top heading for their room.

  “Yes!” He almost cheered, rushing up the stairs behind her. Once they reached their room, he went to work. There, he did what he loved doing most. Cherishing, kissing, tasting, and savoring his wife. Stripping her bare, and with appreciative awe, made slow careful love to her. She was carrying his baby - a little girl he still hoped. Her body was changing and he was keeping up with the changes, this being the first pregnant woman he’d been around, from the beginning to the end. Her busts were fuller, heavier - her nipples tender. Making sure to be tender when kissing them, letting his tongue sooth and massage. She was just now gaining back the weight she lost from the morning sickness that lasted sometimes, all day. She was starting to feel good again. Looking forward to his touch again. Because of that, the love he made to her was strictly for her. Besides, nothing turned him on anyway like the panting, whimpers and finally screams of a woman at his hands. It was that that got him off better than anything else. He had to make her sing for him, that sound was his greatest aphrodisiac. In the end, he was at the height of his thrill - she turned him on when she sang - that led to him following soon with his own chorus, loud and long and sated.

  In Madison…

  “Where are you?” Derrick rasped briskly on his mobile at home.

  On the other end, Marcus made a face, groaning as quietly as he could to himself, rocking his head side to side, disappointed, “Huh? Dad?”

  “Where - are - you?” Derrick repeated, more emphatically.

  “Ah, over a friend’s house, why?” With dread, he slowly asked. “Uh, what’s up?”

  “G
et home,-…”

  “Aaaah dad, what happened, I-...”

  “Get home now! Right now!” Derrick hung up.

  Marcus clicked his mobile off tempted to throw it, displaying a mild fit. He thought he’d had it made for the weekend. With the family gone he’d planned to chill out with Rochelle. He was deep into this girl - Crystal’s best friend. Because he’d had her once, an entire night, he wanted her again. He loved the way they fit. He loved the way she felt - how she smelled. He thrilled at the things she said to him. Driving him insane with the way her body had moved. He wanted her again. He didn’t want to go dating another woman, or another black woman to see if they were all that way. He already knew they weren’t all the same. So this one was it - he knew she was definitely one that turned him out. He wanted that whimpering, toe curling, sack draining, needing to growl if not howl sensation again. He wanted her - again! Unfortunately, she wasn’t throwing the sheets back and inviting him to jump in her bed again. When his mobile’s ring tone went off, he’d been working her with his smooth talk to give him another go.

  Amused by his juvenile tantrum, Rochelle laughed, “Uh oh, daddy say get yo’butt home. Best get to gettin’.” She teased, simpering and leaned toward him to gently double slap his cheek. He was sitting on the floor in her living room, before her sofa up to the coffee table. They were eating Chinese for dinner. Marcus had picked it up on the way to her place. He’d gone to the mall where she worked, asking when she would be off.