In The Company of Women

(Ten years later)

Dee’s Story (Sadira)

Sadira laid there looking at the ceiling of a kitchen that was not hers. She squirmed a little, uncomfortable by the steel-plated faucet that pressed into her fragile spine. Maurice mistook her movements for post-orgasmic spasms and smiled into her neck while pinching the firmness of her bottom that filled his hands. She winced, not at the pinch but because he would not let her go.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said. Her voice lacked the pleasantness of satisfaction.

"Sorry about that," he referred to the mess he made on the inside of her thighs. They disentangled, and she walked swiftly to the bathroom, her thighs sticking and unsticking with every step.

Sadira had a bad habit of doing this. She was not a smoker or a heavy drinker. There was no satisfaction with coming home and having a drink or smoking a joint to release life's pressures. What she found herself doing at least once a week was calling a man and going to his house (never hers) and having sex with him minutes after walking in the door. Today it was Maurice because he was one of the few that allowed her to use him. The sex wasn't as fulfilling as he thought but, it was satisfying. It made her feel relaxed and worth something and in control. Those moments provided her something to hold on to, she felt needed and empowered. When she got her fill, when she had touched, grabbed, and bit them enough she felt whole again and the loneliness vanished.

Like most people in her life, Maurice's home had little room for her. The miniature bathroom’s once white ceiling had paint curled over that jutted out towards her pointing her to leave. They made the walls appear closer than they truly were. The small octagonal tiles on the floor made her feet cold and the toilet with its seat up was not inviting for any woman. Sadira looked at her reflection in the mirror and through the spots of dried toothpaste and water stains, she saw her empty eyes staring back at her. Her braided hair was partially disheveled. Her red blouse was unbuttoned but, still tucked into her tight skirt.

"Whatever," she whispered to her reflection.

This was her routine as well. She often dismissed her appearance after sex. She always looked this way, her clothes never made themselves fully off and no matter how much money she spent on waterproof eyeliner and mascara it always ran, leaving minor dark rings under her short bottom lashes. She appeared like she was crying rather than feeling good. She hated how she looked then and 'whatever' was the magic word that always made the disgust that climbed up her throat vanish like a magician's fluffy white rabbit.

"I left you a clean towel on the tub," Maurice said through the door.

She turned and lifted her short leg on the edge of the tub grabbing the worn towel and wiping herself.

"Damn, you could have given me a good towel."

"Only you Dee, only you."

She heard his laugh and was not amused. She was worth a good towel. ‘At least once a month I give this nigga some of my good and he can't give me a nice towel in return. I know he doesn't think it's like that, cuz it's really not’. By the time she finished cleaning herself she decided that was the last time she would be seeing Maurice. It was dangerous anyway, she thought to herself. They had stopped using condoms some time ago. That night he claimed he ran out and because of the weather he didn't feel like going to the Walgreens, that were only a few blocks away.

Aunt Maxi always told her never to let a man in without a condom, unless he was special. She told Sadira repeatedly, “Baby girl, once they get it like that they ain't never gonna wanna go back.”

It was true but, Sadira couldn't blame them because sex was so much better without condoms. Every time she stopped by, she reminded herself nothing was that good to catch something or even worse have a kid by him. Maurice was not her man and never would be, they both knew that; it would never work. Sadira was out of his league and besides, she was not interested in commitments nor relationships. At least that's what she told herself every night she went to bed alone.

Now that she was presentable she looked at herself in the mirror again, fixing her hair and face as best as she could. Finally pleased with her look of composure and control she exited the unwelcoming bathroom. Maurice was in his bedroom that doubled as a living room, he had pulled the bed out of the couch and laid in the middle of it. His feet hung over the edge and his penis was in his hands, working and readying himself for round two.

"You leaving already?" He knew she was not spending the night, she never did.

"Yeah, so get dressed and walk me to my car."

"Damn. Give me a sec."

She stood there uncomfortable, not knowing what to say and having nowhere to sit in his studio. So she stood and watched him get dressed. There was little hair on Maurice's body. She liked that about him, he always felt so smooth and clean to her. She delighted in touching him and felt closer to him than the other men she knew.

As if the lack of hair made her more in touch with him and her to him.

“You sure you want to leave? You know you don't have to."

“But I do. I would stay longer but I have lots to do tomorrow," she lied.

“Sure. Well, let me give you a goodbye present."

"Reese, I don't want-"

"Who said you had to?" He stood up. "Just sit here," he patted the edge of the thin mattress, "for me."

She did and he kneeled in front of her parting her legs and said goodbye to the only part of her he only really knew.

Read more in the anthology, From a Black Perspective: The Blood, found on Amazon here you go, sis https://www.amazon.com/Black-Perspective-Blood-Crystal-Ren%C3%A9e/dp/B08XLGGG2B/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=9798703022986&qid=1631469978&s=books&sr=1-1