“Gotchu,” I said with a nod, although I wanted to say more.
I wanted to tell her she could, in fact, get used to this. I wanted to tell her I wanted her to get used to this. And not just the sex end of things. I wanted Mahogany on every level. Yeah, we’d only connected sexually, for real. But I wanted her clothed. I wanted her across the table from me at dinner, smiling… not just with her lips and her high cheekbones… I wanted her smiling with her eyes.
She propped her head up on my chest, on the back of her hands again and looked at me. “I don’t get this.”
“You don’t get what?”
With raised brows and a shrug, she said, “This. That thing I can’t get used to.”
“You don’t get cuddled? Caressed?”
“The feelings that come with it. With… you,” she uncomfortably said, laying her head back down, looking away. “I don’t get this. This… it’s a fantasy. It’s not real life. It’s nice though. Very nice. Just not somethingIneed to get used to.”
“Because of your situation.”
“I’m practically out of that situation, Crescent. Why do you keep bringing it up?”
“You think I want to?”
I didn’t want to turn into one of them ‘where would you rather be’ ass niggas. Didn’t want to ever turn into one of them muthafuckas that gave her an ultimatum. Didn’t want to compete. Didn’t feel like I had to compete though. In my mind, if a woman was cheating on her husband, the nigga she cheated with triumphed the husband in one way or another. My way of thinking could’ve been delusional. Could’ve been premature. Wrong… but there was something severely telling about Mahogany and her situation. Regardless of what it was… there was that one foot that stayed planted. It meant something. Meant more than the one outside of the marriage.
“Seems like it,” she said, shifting around. She went to get up, but I grabbed her, stopping her.
I sucked my teeth. “I don’t give a fuck about that situation. But you layin’ here telling me you can’t get used to this with me because it’s a fantasy. What else am I supposed to think? You’re conflicted. Being pulled into two different worlds. I get that. I’m not trippin. I’m just looking for a little bit of clarity.”
“Clarity about what?”
“Clarity about you. About how you feel. About why you keep running away from what makes you feel good. About why you complicate shit that’s already complicated that don’t need any more complicating. I say… fuck it… get used to it. I want you to. I want you to get used to more than just this.”
She went quiet for a couple of minutes. I did too. Wondered what type of thoughts were running through her mind. Wondered why I’d decided to let mine spill. A part of me wanted Mahogany to know. A part of me wanted to keep it concealed. Not because I was afraid of anything but because it was pathetic. Where I stood. What I wanted. With her being married. It was crazy. I wasn’t the type of nigga to play second to anybody but there I was, ready, willing, and open to it. Just for the sake of this. Feeling her skin against mine. Smelling the scent of her perfume. Listening to the sound of her voice. I liked Mahogany. I liked her a fuckin lot.
“It has nothing to do with him,” she mumbled. “Not completely…”
“You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t,” she paused. “But I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with… he’s not important. I justdon’tgetthis, Crescent. I—” she paused and took a deep breath. “I was with a man for more than half my life and I didn’t get this. I’m not talking about the cuddling. I’m not talking about the caressing. I’m talking about everything. It feels good… Too good. Too good to be real. Too good to be authentic. Just… too good for me to get used to. That’s all I’m saying.”
I got it.
She’d been hurt. In the ways that I used to hurt women. It was obvious. She didn’t have to say what she’d just said for me to recognize it either. I saw it before. Felt it on her. In every fleeting glance. In those sad ass pictures of her and her husband. Mahogany was wounded. And because she was wounded, she was complicated. Complicated in ways that would make it hard to be me with her. I was genuine and intentional in the way I handled her. Because I saw that on her. Deceit. Pain. Unhappiness.
“I’m telling you, you can get used to it. With me you can at least.”
She giggled, shook her head, and said, “I can’t. You don’t understand. And that’s okay.”
“How about this,” I said with a pause. “I’m giving you permission to let go. I’m giving you permission to get out of your head and allow me to give you this. You don’t have to worry about shit with me.”
“Crescent,” she paused. “We just met.”
“Fuck that supposed to mean? I like you. You like me. We vibe. Time don’t mean shit when there’s chemistry and we have a ton of it.”
“Do we? All we do is fuck,” she pointed out.
I slapped her on the ass. “All we’ve done lately is fuck. But we talk… a lot. If it was only pussy between you and I, you wouldn’t be here. You would’ve been gone ten minutes ago.”
It was the truth. I didn’t lay up with pussy. With pussy I was only intentional in one way. With pussy I had one agenda—to bust a nut. With Mahogany, I wanted to indulge. Wanted to dive deeper into her psyche. Wanted to get closer. Wanted to listen to her. Wanted to get to know her beyond the physical.
She propped her head up again and we connected, eye to eye. She didn’t shy away. Didn’t look anywhere but in my eyes. Stayed connected like that for a good two minutes before she finally said something.
