The apartment was quiet, not that I was expecting anything else. It was well past Jordan’s bedtime and Eligia always went down right after him. I smelled dinner, and quickly decided against it since I’d eaten already. My buds were calling for a different type of food, one of the sweet variety. Nonetheless, first I had to get out of these clothes.
When I walked into my bedroom I dropped my things and went over to the nightstand to turn on the baby monitor. I struggled with not going directly in there to scoop Jordan up and bring him to bed with me. Actually, I would have if I knew I would be going straight to sleep, but I wasn’t because I was too restless, thinking about this business plan.
When I saw that he was curled in his crib, softly snoring from his little cold, I stripped and headed into the shower. Once that task was over, I went back out to the kitchen agog with anticipation of frozen cream hitting my palate. As I grabbed the cold container, I sighed dramatically. Then I ambled into the pantry for the small wine refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of sauvignon blanc and poured a generous glass. Trotting on my bare tippy toes I made my way out into the living room excited about my impending feast.
I dumped my exhausted limbs on the oversized plush sofa, tucked my crossed legs beneath me and started digging in my pistachio ice cream. As I sucked and chewed, my brain moiled with what the class discussed...and with Jacques Moreau. I could actually do this. I could start my own business—albeit small, but it would be a start nonetheless. If I were able to pull this off, the trajectory of my life would change. I believed enough in myself to know that if I got the financial backing, it could work. I just needed to figure out who would invest.
If I went with Moreau’s recommendation, I’d be making bold moves and unprecedented requests. I’d be like him—daring, aggressive, and self-assertive—My god, the way he touched my lip! I didn’t like the audacious move. I didn’t know him and was not accustomed to that type of school-related interaction. Though now in the privacy of my own home, I have to admit how desirable that single maneuver made me feel.
I took a huge gulp of my wine, feeling the need to balance my rising hormones with a contradicting sensation. I savored the singe from the wine surging my throat. Conversely, it did nothing for the tingle in my nipples or the throbbing of my clitoris. It was that time of the month and since that time, years ago, when Stenton made love to me while I was on my period, my body craved sex during this time of my cycle. I found myself brushing my fingers over my bottom lip with featherweight strokes, curious about what Moreau felt when he touched it. Then my thoughts went to Stenton—my sole lover—and whether he’d ever executed that clever act of seduction with another woman.
“Long day?” those vocals never failed to stimulate a physiological response as they pour over me.
I leaped in place to find Stenton leaning against the wall, his lanky frame encased in a silver tracksuit and black sneakers. He appeared fit and solid…and a bit exhausted. My thoughts must be powerful. I’d thought him up.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“I didn’t know I was still here either until my own snore woke me up.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “I didn’t know you snored.”
Stenton shrugged. “Occasionally, when I’m burned out.” He yawned.
“Rough week?”
“You don’t know the half,” he snorted. There was a pause before he asked, “Rough night?”
“Huhn?”
His eyes gestured my way. “I see you broke open a bottle of wine.”
I glanced down at the glass in my hand. “Oh! Not really.” I raised the jar of ice cream.
“Ooooooh.”
I giggled. “Yup. That time of the month.” I took another sip of wine.
“Oh, well, at least I know Kaleemah isn’t enrolled in Wharton and bullying you to the point of drinking.”
I couldn’t help my laughter. “You’re whack for that. You really remember my silly stories?”
Stenton’s face was sober when he replied, “Every last one of them.”
I scoffed. “I can’t believe I told you that.”