Chapter Sixteen - Jeremy

I tightened my grip on Marsha’s waist and jerked her body forward as she grabbed at my T-shirt and tugged it upwards and over my head. The warmth of her bare skin against mine instantly excited me, and I was more than ready to feel the deeper warmth that waited for me between her slender thighs. In an instant, she was stepping out of her denim shorts. I scooped her up, and she wrapped her long limbs around me. I nibbled at her skin, neither of us concerned with the red marks that would speckle her neck and collarbone. I flicked the hooks of her bra open and threw the slinky piece of lingerie to the side. My hands held her bottom close and tight to my waist as I walked her over, and gently dropped her onto the bed.
I continued trailing bites down to her breasts, which were perfectly sized for my mouth only. She used her feet to push my shorts and underwear down. She was already digging her nails into my back, electrifying every nerve in my body. She clasped her legs around me once again. This time, as she pulled me in, I slid all the way into her with ease. Both of us gasped.
Marsha threw her head back, opening up her neck for me to bury my face in. I rocked her slowly at first, but the more I felt her, the more I wanted to feel. Marsha met my every push with a thrust of her own hips forward. In less time than I wanted, I was losing control of my movements. I sped up, grinding deeper and deeper, all the while trying to focus on something that would slow me down, something less exciting, less euphoric. But when Marsha brought her chin back down and looked into my eyes, I came undone. “I love you,” I gasped.
Tears fell from the corners of Marsha’s eyes as she responded, “I love you too.”
Hours later, after a deep nap, I awoke to the realization that Marsha had gotten out of bed. I froze in the dark for a moment, wondering where she could have gone. I sighed with relief when I heard the toilet flush. I couldn’t remember if my secret pager was off, and occasionally, the fear that Marsha would find it crept up my spine and rattled me. I thought about my original plans for the evening, and wondered if Pauletta was disappointed that she’d been stood up. She probably attempted to page me. I decided to wait Marsha out to see if she would fall back to sleep quickly, and she did.
I slipped out of bed, threw on a pair of basketball shorts, and tiptoed into the living room. The pager was in the pocket of a hooded sweater that I planned to throw into the car on my way out. I took it out and turned it on. Sure enough, there were back-to-back pages from Pauletta. I quickly tiptoed back to the kitchen for the cordless phone. Sitting on the couch, I dialed Pauletta’s number and half expected her not to respond, but she did.
“Jeremy!” she hissed.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” she asked.
I ignored her question. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t link up tonight. You wanna link tomorrow?”
“No, and why are you whispering? Where are you?” Pauletta demanded to know.
“I’m home,” I simply answered.
“You have to whisper in your own house like a little kid? Oh no, are you married?” Pauletta sounded panicked.
“No, I ain’t married,” I assured her.
“But you live with ya girl. That’s why you never gave me your phone number.”
“Nah, that’s not it,” I said, now wondering why I called her in the first place. I didn’t actually care that I’d stood her up. Girls like Pauletta came a dime a dozen. I’d meet another one at another party or bar.
“Doesn’t matter. Your number came up on the caller I.D., Jeremy Anthony. You better hope I don’t call back and warn her.”
I sucked my teeth. “Look, if you don’t wanna link another time, just say that.”
“I don’t,” Pauletta said sharply.
“Cool,” I said, and hung up.
I slid back into bed with Marsha after making sure the beeper was off and well-hidden again. Just as my eyelids couldn’t hold their own weight anymore, Marsha whispered, “Who were you on the phone with?”
My eyes popped open, and I stared hard into the darkness, as if it would reveal a suitable lie. “Lovelie,” I lied. “Something happened at the barbershop.”
“Oh,” Marsha said softly.
I felt her arm snake around my waist.
“I didn’t hear the phone ring.” Her voice maintained its whispering tone.
“Nah, I called her. I forgot I was supposed to call her earlier.”
“This late?” Now she was being annoying, and it seemed like she was digging. If she was going to accuse me, why wouldn’t she just come out with it?
“It’s the weekend, Marsha.” I yawned. “I’m about to crash,” I said.
“Mm-hm,” Marsha semi-groaned.
Soon she was snoring lightly again, and I was able to get some sleep myself.