For some reason, him sitting here making small talk feels strange, and makes me uncomfortable. I shift in my seat, deciding to skip all the niceties. “Listen, Garrett, why are you
He raises his brow. “I told you, I wanted to see you.”
“Okay, that sounds good, but…”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he says, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Ohkaaay. And what do I have to do with that?”
He stares at me. The intensity in his eyes feels hot against my flesh.
“You look different.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you have this glow about you.”
“Whaat?!” I ask, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Pregnant, me? OhmyGod, what made you dream of something like that?”
I know what some of you bitches are thinking, “Well, you
He shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ve had the same dream for the last two weeks. I’ve been real tired, lately, almost drained. I was talking to my sister about it the other day, and she jokingly asked me if I had gotten someone pregnant. At first I laughed it off, but later on I started wondering if…” he pauses, and allows the silence to fill the space around us. It is at this very moment, I wish I could blink him and what happened between us away. Wish I could rewind the clock and go back to the night he fucked me without a condom, and simply erase it from out of my life. I hold my breath. “You’d tell me if you were pregnant, wouldn’t you?”
Okay, now comes the moment of truth. I slowly exhale. “I probably wouldn’t. I don’t know.”
“You don’t think I would have the right to know.”
I slowly shake my head, diverting my eyes from his. “Not if I wasn’t going to keep it. But, that’s neither here nor there.”
“But would you keep it, if you were?”
“I’m not in love with you, so why would I?”
“Because I’m in love with you, and it would be a life we created.”
“Not by choice. And definitely not out of mutual love.” He looks as if he’s hurt by what I’ve said. He glances back over at my bags.
“You spending the holidays in San Diego with your family?”
I shake my head. “No, not this year. I’m going to Egypt.”
He slowly nods. “I see,” he says, pausing. He stares at me. “Always the adventurous one.”
“Something like that,” I state, glancing at my watch again.
He keeps his gaze on me, tilting his head. “What will it take?”
“For what? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“For you to let someone love you?”
“I’m not looking for love.”
“At some point, we all need and want to be loved.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you even know what you want? I mean, what are you looking for in a man?”
“You really wanna know, Garrett?” I ask, sighing.
He nods. “Yes, talk to me.”
I get up, glancing at my watch, again, pacing the floor. “If I were looking for a man, I would want to meet someone who was as freaky as me. A man who wasn’t afraid of pleasing me whenever, however, wherever, without any hang-ups; a man who was comfortable enough in his skin, and in his sexuality, to simply go with the flow and not get caught up in what he thinks I might think after we’re done. He wouldn’t have to keep going and going, and going, like me. I mean, if the dick was good, I’d be willing to work with him. I would want a man who understood the power of foreplay, and was skilled at delivering the best damn orgasms possible, causing waves of electrifying heat to course through me every time he dipped his tongue in my pussy, or someone who stroked me into an unconscious state every time he slid his dick up in me. That’s the kind of man I would want.”
He raises his brow. “So, you mean to tell me, getting fucked good is the only thing you’d want out of a man? Well, if that’s all that you require, I can give you that. Hell, for the last three years, that’s all the hell I’ve been giving you. Aren’t you ever gonna get tired of just being fucked?”
Oh, alright, good dick isn’t really the only thing I’d want from a man. In all honesty, I’d want him to not be afraid to love me, or let me love him. I’d want a man who understood the concept of fidelity and trust and commitment, a man with integrity and ambition and patience and compassion. I’d want a man who’d respect me as woman and appreciate my individuality, my sensuality, my sexuality. One who would not deprive me, or deny me. And, yes, damn it…have good dick.
I look Garrett in the eyes and tell him all of this. He stares back at me.
“How can a man with flaws, an imperfect man, love a woman who sees the world through rose-colored lenses?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I shrug. “I’m not sure. However, if I were looking for a man, I wouldn’t be looking for perfect. But, is there anything wrong with wanting something or someone close to it?”
Okay, okay. I know nothing in life is perfect, that it’s an illusion of what and how we want things to be in the perfect world we create in our minds.
Garrett gets up from his seat and walks over to me. “Bianca, you’re a beautiful woman. Have you ever thought that maybe you might really have a problem?”
I frown. “A problem? What kind of problem are you talking about?”
“With sex.”
I scoff at his absurdity. “I don’t have a problem with sex. I love it.”
“Yeah, maybe a little too much.”
I place my hand on my hip. “And what exactly is a little too much, Garrett?”
“I think your love for sex might be more of an addiction?”
“An addiction?” I ask indignantly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Garrett, now you’re really reaching. I enjoy having sex, and lots of it, but that doesn’t mean I’m addicted to it. I don’t live and breathe sex.”
He looks at me disbelievingly.
“I can stop fucking at any time,” I huff, wondering if what I say is to convince him or myself. “But why should I? I’m single, and I don’t have to answer to anyone, so I can fuck whomever I want, whenever I want.”
“But what about having someone to love you?”
He shakes his head. “Well, then, let me be the one to keep fucking you.”
“Honestly, Garrett, no offense. But I’d become very bored with one man, one dick.”
“Maybe you haven’t let the right man prove you wrong. Maybe if you were with someone who was open to letting you fuck other cats, as long as they were able to participate and/or watch. Maybe explore the swingers set with you, you wouldn’t feel that way.”
I try not to show my surprise at what he says, but in my head, I’m thinking:
“It’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for over a year,” he answers, reading my mind.
“So, you’re saying to me, you would be down with threesomes, and you’d be cool with watching me get fucked by someone else.”
He nods. “Yeah, as long as I can either get my dick sucked while he’s hitting it from the back, or we can both fuck you. And it would have to be a situation that is discreet and mutually comfortable for both of us…”
