Have You Ever Had Sloppy Seconds? (Three’s Company, Pt. 1)
WORDS BY KAYE MICHELE
The wind was blowing my thin trench coat all about as I climbed the steps to his apartment. I was worried that one gust too many would give this side of Bedford-Stuyvesant a clear view of my diamond bowed G-string.
Ringing the doorbell, I adjusted the strap on my stiletto heel, said a small prayer for courage, and mentally adjusted my fuck-me face.
A woman answered the door in white terry cloth shorts and a crop top.
A woman answered MY man’s door.
I changed my face and, standing up straight, glanced at the number on the outside wall of the brownstone.
“This is 186 Lefferts, right?”
She glanced at me for a while, quizzically, then recognition dawned on her face. “You’re T’s girl! I’m his cousin Shayne.”
I stared at her.
Shayne? I wondered. Who the fuck is Shayne? Then, it came to me. T’s cousin from Arkansas was supposed to be coming in to town this weekend to interview for a fellowship with Beth Israel Medical Center. I forgot. Damn.
Shayne ushered me inside. “Come in, come in! I've heard so much about you. It’s so nice to meet you! T talks about you ALL the time. I’m sorry I startled you. I was supposed to be staying with a friend, but things didn’t work out and T refused to have me go to a hotel…”
Though I was listening, I was still silent. Cousin or not, I needed her to put on something else. “Where’s T?” I asked.
“Oh!” Shayne’s chest jumped, her country fried accent coming out in her exclamation.
I noticed she had on no bra. I frowned. I was tempted to lend her my trench coat so she could cover the hell up.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy running off at the mouth that I didn’t even tell you that he’s in his room asleep," she continued rambling. "He came home from his shift and passed out… I don’t even know if he changed or what he did… I tried calling him but he didn’t…”
I cut the rambling off mid-sentence. “Thanks, um…”
“Shayne. It’s Shayne,” she responded, her broad smile revealing perfect teeth.
I nodded. “Thanks, Shayne.”
Shaking my head to clear it, I headed towards the back of T’s apartment—my walk becoming more pronounced, more sensual as I got closer to his room. I peered through the crack in the door and could see him laid out across his bed. The muscles in his calf defined, long legs hanging off the side. His toffee colored back with a fine sprinkling of chocolate freckles on his shoulder blades rising and falling, as he breathed slowly.
He looked almost baby-like in slumber, his lips soft and hung open slightly. The same chocolate speckled inflections gently smattered across the bridge of his nose, playing hide and seek with his almond-shaped eyes. I stood there, watching him sleep for the longest, gently appreciating his beauty, reveling in my love for him.
Then, I sniffed the air...
I sniffed again...
Something was off.
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