“If that’s what it takes to get a man, I might be in trouble.” Randi sucking her teeth and crossing her arms hard.
We went backstage to let Fe’Fe’ know we enjoyed her show and thanked her for the invite before we slithered away. With astonishment still on our faces, we walked to the parking lot. Nobody wanted to talk about what they had seen, as if we’d seen a UFO. Even the self-proclaimed “Super Freak”, Thumper, was speechless.
I hopped into my hoopty and started making my way to the house. Thoughts danced through my head as my car rolled down the highway. Thinking about what I witnessed just fifteen minutes ago, still had me kind of messed up in the head. Fe’Fe’ pushed the envelope when it came to showmanship. To tell the truth, she made me rethink my entire repertoire. Maybe I needed to show more skin on stage. Yeah…right?
Thinking about what I had just seen ultimately led my thoughts back to Terri. I don’t want to go there right now. The emotions that come with the line of thought built around Terri are mostly negative right now. I do all I can to shift the focus of my mind and the best thing I can do is reach for the old faithful diversion.
I began to daydream about being prepped for a major TV interview. Sometimes when I have free time or I am stressed out, I imagine that I am being interviewed by a noted journalist. In my mind, I am sitting with Oprah, Barbara Walters, Robin Roberts, Dianne Sawyer or yuckin’ it up on the Tom Joyner Morning Show.
Some times I would give an impromptu motivational message while sitting with Tavis Smiley, Steve Harvey or on a university campus somewhere in the world. This time I was on an XM Satellite Radio show with Gayle King on the Oprah and Friends channel. I was talking about relationships and what my views were as a black man and a musician who spends a great deal of time on the road. The question that had been put to me was, “What are your views on how to make a relationship between a man and a woman last?” Tilting my head back, I think for a moment. Then, sitting erect with a solid voice, I responded.
“You know, that’s a good question. I have often thought about that. In my travels, I’ve had the opportunity to talk to other men and women, of all flavors, black, white, Native American, and Latino and so on. Most of us in the West have similar issues when it comes to this topic. There are obvious cultural differences, but in order for the union between a man and a woman to survive, we have to maintain that bi-directional respect. Sometimes we start looking around and decide that we want to make our mate over. I think that’s unfair. Don’t get me wrong. I have seen other women and found them attractive, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go home and convert my wife into that woman. I know a lot of men have a hard time with their mates because in the beginning of the relationship, the women project the image that there is nothing wrong with their man and they love everything about their man, or so they lead you to believe. They like his conversation, looks, style of dress and his swagger. Then, when they get married, they begin an intense man renovation project. The man’s look, habits, career, friends, and his interest all of a sudden become all wrong.”
The phones in the studio begin to ring off the hook. Before Gayle can ask me the next question, I find myself at the entrance of my street. Turning onto the street, I think, “This isn’t how it should be.” Driving slowly towards the house, I see neighbors, some couples and I wonder if they are fighting or have they fought the same battles I am fighting right now. The entrance to the driveway felt like the long road you have to drive down when you go to visit a prison. As I approach the garage, I press the button on the garage door opener and like a kid, I pretend that I am the captain of a spaceship. A spaceship would be a nice place to be right now. Maybe Terri would actually yearn for me or at least my life insurance policy. Maybe Terri would actually miss me and want me to rush home. Wishful thinking is exactly what these feelings are. Remaining in the car for a few more minutes, I decided I could take another question from one of Gayle’s callers.
“Mr. Chapman Sweet, why is it that all black men come across like dogs? I mean judging by your music you seem to know how to treat a sister.”, the caller spoke in an exaggerated southern drawl.
Looking over my shoulder, I smile at Gayle. But just before I answered the question, Terri opened the kitchen door and entered the garage.
“Sweet, you okay?” She leaned over to see if it was really me sitting in the car.
“Damn! I haven’t heard her call me like that in a long time,” I whispered to myself.
I loved looking at her even when she was at her worst. She had on some black stretch pants and one of my undershirts with no bra on. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail just the way I liked it, exposing her neck. Her rigid nipples altered the vertical linear pattern of the undershirt. To me, Terri is as sexy to me today as she was when I first saw her. I leaned out of the open car door.
“It’s me babe. I was just doing some thinking. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. You scared me.”
I got out, stood up, and stretched like one of those lazy hound dogs whose job is to sleep. After closing the car door, I walked toward her. She stood motionless in the doorway until I got a few steps from her, then she quickly retreated into the house.
Entering the house I had the best vantage point to watch those slightly bowed legs of hers walk down the hall, accompanied by that gentle jiggle of her buttocks. I hastened to catch up to her before she got to the bedroom. I grabbed her by her wrist and whirled her around. Catching her by the waist, I pulled her close to me and planted a kiss on her lips. She rubbed her eye like a sleepy little kid who was trying to stay awake long enough to see if Santa Claus was really real. She shocked me. Totally out of character, based on her recent behavior, Terri allowed me to kiss her without putting up her usual dramatic protest. I stooped down to pick her up and she let me. The woman I married must have popped in for a visit. “Could I get that woman to stay for the night?” With her safely and softly in my arms, I carried her to the room as if she were Sleeping Beauty.
Laying her across the bed in the pitch-black of night, I contemplated whether I should make the move I so desperately wanted to make. I know what Thumper said about the Dawg in me being on a short leash in Terri’s hand, but I find it very difficult to abstain from this fine specimen of woman splayed out in front of my eyes. Sliding my feet out of my shoes, I sat on my side of the bed, removed my shirt and then my pants. Knowing what I felt for my wife was bigger than this moment, the sweat on my forehead, and the obvious bulge in my underwear were a prominent reminder of this fact. But, like my relationship advisor, Essence magazine told me in the beginning of my marriage, “Don’t rush her!” So I didn’t. I hear the deep whisper of her inhaling and exhaling as she rapidly falls deeper, back into the sleep she was stirred from before she opened the door to the garage. I admire her form as she slept and I decided to allow my urge to fade into the back of my mind. I arrived at the conclusion, that to lay down on the bed as near to her as possible, without waking her up, was what would have to satisfy me tonight.
Resting on my pillow with my hands behind my head, the motion of the mattress caused her to instinctively roll toward me and snuggle up against my body. Her head rested on my arm and her leg over my leg as I relaxed flat on my back. The fatigue of the day’s activity and the stress of worrying about what I would encounter when I got home, or what drama awaited me, escaped my mind, and sleep claimed me too. As I slumbered, peace of mind and the onset of REM sleep enveloped me, I felt the distinct sensation of something warm, slightly firm and moist on my chest. It was a dream, and I was not about to make a hasty exit from a pleasant place that felt so good and real. Being aroused to a hazy state of semi consciousness, I felt the movement of Terri’s warm body pressed firmly against mine. I was not asleep, and I realized that Terri is awake and fully engaged. Pleased to discover it wasn’t a dream, I continued to lie back, and relaxed for fear of scaring the rare moment away. Like finding a rare bird or butterfly, I instinctively knew that the slightest movement would chase the rare find away. I remained motionless and enjoyed the attention as she stroked my chest hairs, even pulling some of them to the point of giving me