Another Time, Another Place

“Yeah, but let me make sure you are.” I got up and massaged his shoulders. I planted soft kisses on a hairy back, which could have used a dab or two of Brut to camouflage his musty scent. I moved my right hand over his not-so-athletic chest, causing him to grunt like a boar in heat. My fingernail got snagged on his beady hairs.

The snag didn’t hurt him, and nothing about him aroused me. This called for desperate measures.

I straddled my body at his legs, and bent my head to give his penis pleasure. My mouth received more oxygen than meat from him.

“That’s right, baby,” he said. “Get me ready.”

Get what ready? There’s nothing there, I thought, frowning at his shriveled prune.

I decided to remain optimistic. I took his penis in my palm, and stroked him. Talk about getting your rocks off. My massage to his marbles pleased him only. I kept rubbing, wishing a genie would come and be a miracle worker on Eugene, or grant me another man. I took the condom off of the table and put it on him. I watched it parachute off his sorry dick. Convinced that somebody had it out for me, I made a mental note to see Sarah about getting some “good luck” roots. Damn, the irony of it all. Another year, another April Fools’ Day gone badly. Leaving me on my knees—staring at a toothpick, poking out of a sponge cake.

He got up from under me and wrapped his arms around my body, guiding me down.

“It’s been a while since I made love to someone as beautiful as you.” He crawled on top of me and somehow managed to get the condom to cling. His penis enlarged somewhat as he dabbed near my moist reservoir. Nothing impressive, but at least I felt something as he entered me. He slowly grinded, but the rhythm was off. Billie’s “This Bitter Earth” had just finished playing. When the record player needle hit the last vinyl ridge, blasting static through the speakers, I realized tonight had been a big mistake. I’d had enough sexual incompetence for one night.

“Ah, Eugene,” I said, prodding his doughy rib cage. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I am not enjoying this.”

“Just wait a minute, baby,” he said as he continued to hump, out of breath. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, so my body is a little tense. Give us a few minutes to get adjusted to each other.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed as he continued the pointless stirring in my body. No, negro, that’s the problem. Your ass ain’t tense enough. Finally, the bitch in me climaxed.

“Stop, Eugene!” I yelled. He lifted his weight off and pulled out of me. I moved from under him.

“Jasmine, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just tired tonight. Let me find another way to please you.” He ventured down to my pubic area. I scooted away.

“No, that’s not necessary,” I said.

“We just need more time. I can….”

I raked through my hair in frustration as I looked at him. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but there’s not that much time in the world, Eugene. My pussy is not that patient.”

He frowned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “What’s with the attitude?”

I snatched my panties off of the floor. “Attitude!” I shouted, putting on my clothes.

“Yeah, what’s the problem?”

I stood directly above him, pointing in his face. “My problem is you. Put your clothes on, and stop asking questions.” I marched to the lamp and turned it to the highest brightness.

Eugene looked like he had just lost his puppy. He remained idle on the floor, knees prone, dick deflated. “Can we talk about this?”

I gave a sarcastic cackle as I flung my arms in the air. “Why not? We damn sure can’t have a productive fuck!”

He raised his palms defensively. “Calm down.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I will not calm down. I’m still horny, and you expect me to calm down!”

“Why are you so angry?”

I went over to the end table and snatched his photo out of my journal. “How old is this picture, Eugene? Where’s the full afro? Hell, is this really you?”

He finally rose to his feet, and stared off in space as he got dressed. His silence to my inquisition told me he had been deceptive all along.

I sighed and shook my head in disgust. “I can’t believe you. All the personal things I shared with you in my letters. The poetry and gifts exchanged. You had me worked up, thinking just maybe it was time to open my heart again. But as it stands now, you had me…and I had a fraud.”

He touched my shoulder, but I pushed his hand away. “Wait! You act like I violated you or something,” he said.

I paced the floor. “I willingly had sex with you, which makes me an ass, but you misrepresented yourself, which makes you cruel.” My bottom lip trembled as I tried to hold back tears. “This fiasco makes me miss my husband even more.”