Nervous

Within thirty minutes, Meredith and Henry were glowing as they pranced out the apartment arm in arm. Jon still had a key to Meredith’s place and there was no way I was going to sit there and watch kiddie television all day.

I took Flower to the park and hated every minute of it. A bunch of brats running around, full of hopes and dreams that their lives would be wonderful when they became adults. If they only knew the real deal. I wondered how many of them were the opposite and tried to pick out the ones that looked sad—the ones who looked like they were mistreated, abused, or just had issues to deal with period. Since it was too early for school to let out, most of them were five and under. I saw one little boy off by himself. He was sitting up underneath a slide as other kids took turns plummeting down it above his head. For the entire time we were there, he didn’t talk to another child or play with another child.

His mother was sitting on a bench with a baby in a stroller. She barely paid him any attention. She would shove the pacifier back into the infant girl’s mouth whenever she cried and glimpse at the boy every ten minutes or so. The rest of the time she had her head buried in a novel. Someone could have snatched him easily and she wouldn’t have noticed until they were in a car five or six miles away. Damn shame.

Flower was mighty talkative and I have to admit that she began to grow on me. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Henry had donated the sperm to create her. She was inquisitive, asking me about everything under the sun. She was good-humored and in high spirits and had good manners. I took her on the miniature train ride, let her ride the merry-go-round, and then we played two rounds of putt-putt. She beat me something terrible because Jon never played and I normally had better things to do, like fucking.

After she was worn out from playing, I took her to Paschal’s to grab a bite to eat. We ordered fried chicken, collard greens, and creamy potato salad and threw down on all of it. I should have taken the opportunity to eat some red meat, since Jon refused to, but I couldn’t go to Paschal’s and not jump on the fried chicken.

Flower opened up to me and talked a lot about her mother. Allison seemed like a decent human being so at least she had

one parent she could count on. Then Flower turned the tables on me and started asking a lot of questions about Jon’s childhood. I lied and said that it was the greatest and that Jon was popular and had tons of friends and all the boys were in love with her. What a crock of bullshit!

When I got back to Meredith’s condo with Flower, they still were not back. I let Flower watch television while I snooped around. The Queen Bitch had enough sexy lingerie to clothe a whorehouse full of women. She had one sexy little red lace number that I just had to snag since the tag was still on it. I crammed it into Jon’s purse, already making some plans for later that night.

They finally came back in about nine, which still gave me plenty of time to go searching for dick. The way they were all lovey-dovey made me sick and I couldn’t take it anymore. I planned to go out, fuck some fool, and then ponder over whether or not I would allow them to get back together or break that shit up again. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I could put a stop to it, if I so desired.

It was too damn easy to just pick up a man. No man was likely to turn down pussy if the woman looked halfway attractive. I wanted a challenge so I went to this gay club called The Milk Farm, which I took to mean that there were a lot of men up in there milking each other’s dicks. Shame on it all.

When I first walked in, some of them might have assumed that I was a transvestite but upon closer inspection, you could see their chins practically hit the floor. I had always assumed that some women hang out at gay bars for whatever reason, but this one was all male except for me. They were grinding all up on each other, tonguing each other down, and my pussy was getting wetter by the second. True sex fiends get turned on by anything sexual, even two dogs humping.

I hopped on a vacant barstool and waited for the bartender, a midget in a thong and leather hat who walked on top of the bar instead of behind it. He snarled at me and asked me what I wanted. I said, “A blow job just like everyone else in here.” I laughed at my joke but he didn’t like it. “Don’t front. I’m sure you know how to make it.”

He teetered away to get my drink.

The two men, or queens rather, that I was sitting between were hideous. I wouldn’t have fucked either one of them for bone marrow. I started scanning the club for other prospects. I realized that it would prove too difficult to pick out which ones were prospective fucks. The ones that went both ways. The ones who were married and in there on the downlow. That was the beauty of being me. Because I didn’t really exist, at least not on paper or as far as anyone was concerned, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, whenever the hell I wanted, and no one could touch me. Too many people hold back from doing the things they yearn to do. They are too busy worrying about what so-and-so might think. On the other hand, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought.

That’s why there was no hesitation on my part to do what I did next. The midget finally came back with my drink. I did my little hands behind my back trick and gulped it down. Just then, the DJ put on “Fever” and it was on. I climbed up on the bar, started dancing to the music, and singing. Then I started stripping.

Of course, the assholes were the initial ones to start yelling shit like, “You need to sit down, bitch!” “Get that slut off the bar! No one wants to see a whore stripping!” and “Did it suddenly get a little fishy in here!”

I ignored them all. I was waiting for that one person who defended me because I knew he would be the one open to what I had in mind. Sure enough, right before the song ended, I heard someone yell out, “Leave her alone! Let the diva do her thing!”

The strobe lights on the ceiling were irritating and I shielded my forehead with my hand so I could make out someone in the back. The only thing I could see was that he was extremely tall and dark-skinned. The song ended and no one applauded but one smart aleck said, “Great! Now get the hell out and go to a club where people like kitties!”

I played it cool and sat back down at the bar. Within five minutes there was a tap on my shoulder and it was him. Men are so damn predictable. It turned out that Hugh, which I’m quite sure wasn’t his real name, was married with four kids and trying to find himself. He said that he had experimented with men in college and had never gotten his curiosity out of his system. I asked him did he take it up the ass or give it. He said give it and that was cool with me because I had no intention of fucking a man who would take one up the ass. I made sure he had a condom, invited him to step in the back into a bathroom stall, and then I let him experiment with a freak and give it to me up the ass. Poor Jon was going to wake up the next morning wondering what the hell!

36

jonquinette

When I arrived in the parking garage at Marcella’s office building, it was difficult to find a space. There was a convention meeting at the hotel across the street so a lot of people had used Marcella’s building as an overflow parking area.

I had to go all the way up to the sixth level and park on the roof. It was nippy, even for mid-October, and I went to search in my trunk for a jacket. I found one and was closing my trunk when I heard someone say from behind me, “Well, hello again.”

I didn’t recognize the voice but when I turned, I was face to face with Zoe. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “And I’m glad we ran into each other here. I take it that means you decided to use the card that I gave you.”

I smiled uneasily. “Yes, I did. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“It’s not a problem.” She came closer and sat a shopping bag that she was carrying down on the ground. “I just finished up a session with Marcella.”

I glanced at my watch. “And I’m next up to bat.” We both giggled. “Marcella really is wonderful and she’s helping me out tremendously.”

“That’s good.” She offered me her hand. “We’ve never formally been introduced. I’m Zoe Reynard.”

I shook her hand. “I already knew your name, from the meetings and all. I’m Jonquinette Pierce.”