“Secret Lover”

Darla begged, “Nine. Stop.” His body was very short, and very thick, but he was very, very hung.

The tawdry, muted porno movie called Kinky Kiki played on the TV screen, but nobody was watching. It was an expert ménage scene gone to waste.

“Relax, baby.” He rubbed her firm, thick legs while on top of her generous frame. His words were greedy, like he was hungry for every pound. “Yeah, those are the thighs I saw when you walked past me earlier today. The closer you got I was like, yeah, that’s a goddess there. I’m a leg man. And I like ’em just like this. These sweet, shapely legs got my dick hard from the first second I saw you. And now my dick is digging inside of this fat, juicy pussy. Sweet like mango juice.”

Her eyes squinted and she winced. “Nine?” Darla said his name as a question.

He was named after the size of his dick. “Wait, just one minute, baby. Hold up.”

“Nine. It’s too long.”

He ground a couple more times and then paused. “Are you okay?” he asked, sounding like he might not really care either way.

Darla spoke from underneath him. “It’s just that it feels like it’s all up in my stomach. Like it could end up in my throat.”

“I can just do it slower, or maybe not put it in all the way. Know what I’m saying?”

Darla scooted back to make his penis come out. “It just feels like, maybe I’m dry, or, I don’t know. It feels like every time you pull back, and then in again, like my vagina’s going to split open.”

He spoke close to her face. He had sweat on his forehead and his eyes were red. His breath was warm and stale. “Oh. Well, how about if I eat you again? I can do that.”

She shook her head along the pillow. “No. It’s okay. That part was good. But, I just can’t do this.”

Nine reached down to make sure his condom was still secure and not inside of her, and then he turned over onto his back. “Okay. Let’s just lay still for a minute.”

“Sorry,” Darla said as if it was all her fault.

“No problem. Maybe another position. Maybe on all fours. Know what I’m saying?”

“No,” was all she was saying. She closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, not looking at her.

She turned her head toward him and looked down at his still hard dick. “I just thought I was ready for it, or for this. It’s different from what I was used to. It’s been a long time. Five years.”

“Really? So you haven’t been with anyone since 2004? Is that what you’re telling me?” He still looked away.

“Yes. That’s what I’m telling you. My husband was my one and only lover for almost twenty years. Well, I did have one other, but only once.”

“Wow. I mean that’s good. You’re a queen. A real lady. Know what I’m saying?”

“I don’t know about all that, but I know for a fact that he was nowhere near as large and long as you.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. We don’t have to.”

She looked down at his size again. “I’ve never even seen a condom on a man, other than the movies. And how do you fit that on you? What size is that anyway?”

“Durex XXL.”

“Wow.” She looked in shock.

“You’ll be fine. You just need someone to take their time and break you in. Know what I’m saying?”

Darla gave a small laugh and looked up at the ceiling. She said in her mind, If he says, “know what I’m saying” one more time… “You make it sound like I’m a virgin.”

Suddenly, his tone changed. He now looked at her. “That’s exactly what you are. A damn virgin. Know what I’m saying? How the hell you gonna be a virgin at forty? With a pussy that damn tight. What the hell is your problem?” She looked over at his face and suddenly saw the devil himself. “Are you some kind of sexually repressed, closet lesbian or what? And you just lay there like a damn corpse. What you need to do is take all this dick and get this shit over with, with your fat…”

“Ahh,” Darla pressed the breath she’d been momentarily holding while she slept and her eyes burst open like they’d popped. In her head she could still hear, “Know what I’m saying?” It rang like a doorbell. She caught her exhale in time to force a sufficient inhale and grabbed her throat and tried to calm her chest.

Her room was dark.

She was alone in bed.

And she was sweating like a first-place marathon runner in Zimbabwe.

“Oh my God.” Inhale, exhale. “What was that all about? That young man was a trip.” She drew another deep breath, let it out fast, and saw the omniscient red light from her alarm clock that read 4:44 in the morning.

It was the same time of the morning that she and Aaron would joke they’d always awake automatically just before they’d adjust sleeping positions for a final hour of slumber. And there she was in her solo bed of one, dreaming about having sex with another man.

A man who her shy vagina would not accommodate.

“What in the world is that going to be like? God forbid it’s with someone like that. I’m a pretty sad case. Aren’t I Aaron?”

In her spinning head, she convinced herself that Aaron brushed the side of her cheek with the back of his hand as usual. She felt it for sure. And smiled. All was easier to take for a minute.

Within the next hour, Darla was up and showered, dressed in her work uniform and tennis shoes, and in her kitchen brewing her morning black coffee. She grabbed a vanilla Slim Fast shake from the fridge, popped it open, and sipped.

After a swallow, she asked herself, “Why do I drink these when all I do is stay the same size?”

She stepped to the balcony of her condo and leaned against the white railing, looking out along the majestic, first morning vision, and eyeing the aqua waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The fresh sun shone its tangerine highlight in flickers of light that spanned across the water’s horizon like a gigantic fan.

How did I end up alone? A widow by the time I was thirty-five. No credit. No money. A job I hate. And still I have the nerve to want to open a lingerie store. Who in the hell is going to give me a loan?

She found herself headed to her built-in bookshelf in her living room where she found her cherished, black study Bible that her mother gave her on her twelfth birthday. It was even signed “Presented to Darla, By Mom, On January 1, 1981.”

She set down her shake and flipped through the pages of the Bible, opening it to a section that was bookmarked by a long, thin, ivory crucifix. Darla noticed some scribbled notes alongside the explanation of the verses. Her mother had written, It may be late, but it’s not too late. It only depends on how hungry you are. Get hungry for purpose. If you’re not hungry, he won’t come with food. A fast will sharpen the things of God. Empty yourself, for yourself. The writing was on a particular highlighted page, Isaiah 4, verse 4—The Lord will wash away the filth of the women of Zion; he will cleanse the bloodstains from Jerusalem by a spirit of judgment and a spirit of fire.

Darla took in the words, read them again, and it was like she could hear her mother speak to her. Darla sniffled and then her eyes filled with tears, and they flowed heavy and fast until she could no longer see the writing from the water-clouds in her eyes.

She clutched the Bible close to her, just as her home phone rang.

Darla walked to the kitchen phone and said a nasally, “Hello.”

“Mrs. Clark, it’s Ralph, the concierge from downstairs. We have a delivery for you that’s been at the front desk since yesterday. It’s a certified letter that we took, but you need to sign the card. I don’t know if anyone called or put a slip in your mailbox. I know it’s early, but would you like to come get it on your way out, or we can bring it up?”

Darla sniffled again and patted her cheeks. “Yes, please bring it up. And don’t worry about it being early. I don’t think I’m going in to work today.”

A knock at the door ten minutes later was answered by Darla, who was now in her nightgown and slippers, with a white silk robe wrapped around her. Her hair was brushed straight back.

With her red nose and makeup-stripped face, she opened the door and took the envelope, signed the green confirmation card, and handed the man a few dollars.

“Thanks, Ralph.”

“Surely. Have a great day, Mrs. Clark.”

Darla shut the door, examining the letter front and back, expecting it to be another letter from the homeowners association, or the bank.

She opened the letter, headed to the kitchen for that cup of brewed coffee that had her name on it, saying aloud, “Oh please. This is all I need right now.”

She read.

Darla was careful to examine the check, which was attached to the letter via paper clip. She saw her name, but it didn’t seem real. She saw the numeric amount, but she couldn’t believe it.

She put her hand over her heart and her head spun. Darla dropped the letter and the half-million-dollar check onto the floor, and stood. She was completely still, not wanting to awake from what could have been an amazing dream.

She turned her face toward her Bible that she’d left open, which was sitting on her dining room table and she had a look of disbelief, and then the look of a woman blessed with a dream come true.

Darla, shaking, dropped to her knees, clasped her hands, lifted her head up high, and said to the heavens above, “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Aaron.”

That next day, she gave her two weeks’ notice and quit her job.

Her dream could now become a reality.