Addicted

As I dried off, I looked into the huge mirror that spanned the entire length of the double-sink vanity. My body had changed a lot over the years, but my breasts were still erect and firm, and my ass was nice and round. My skin was flawless, something that has more to do with genetics than anything else. So many times, I thought the sex problems with Jason and I were my fault. A lack of attraction on his part. That night, I decided to find out.

“Jason, look at me.”He ignored me and opted to catch the sports section of the news instead. I walked in front of the television and cut it off.

“Zoe, why did you do that?”

“Because I want you to look at me.” I was butt naked.

He sat up on the bed and glanced at me. “Okay, I’m looking. You need to put some clothes on before you catch a cold. Remember how sick you got last year after we went on that ski trip?”

“No, I mean really look at me. After all the years we’ve been together, you’re still uncomfortable looking at my nude body, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Jason really did look at me then, tracing the outline of my body with his eyes just like Quinton did at the school cafeteria. “You’re very beautiful, Zoe, but you already know that. That’s why I married your crazy ass.”

I went over to the bed, pushed him on his back, and climbed on top of him. “Oh, so you married me for my looks, huh? Damn shame! All this time I thought you married me because you admired the way I beat your ass the first day we met.”

We both started laughing, and he tickled me. I was laughing so hard because we were on the bed tussling about like we were kids again. “I thought I told you never to bring that shit up. Besides, you were taller than me back then.”

I started laughing so hard, I was crying. “We have to make sure we tell the kids all about the day I gave you a beatdown when they get older.”

He started laughing as he climbed on top of me and pinned my hands down with his own. “Fuck you, Zoe!”

I stopped laughing and looked him in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Jason, that’s exactly what I want you to do. Fuck me!”

The mention of sex immediately threw him back into his shell. He climbed off me, propped up a pillow, and lay back down. Then he reached for the remote off the nightstand and turned the news back on.

“Jason,” I whispered in his ear, propping myself up on the pillow beside him, “I was thinking we could, maybe and only if you want to.” I was so nervous, I couldn’t barely get the words out. “Maybe we could try oral sex.”

“Zoe, that’s disgusting! I’ve already told you fifty million times how I feel about that.”

“How do you know it’s disgusting unless you try it?” Ipulled the string on his pajama pants and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t stop me from pulling his dick out.

I moved down on the bed and rubbed his erection with my hand. I laid there for a few minutes, my head resting on his thigh, just enjoying the sight of it, the veins popping out of it and the way it was pulsating inside my palm. Jason had never let me play with him like that before, and I got excited thinking all our sexual problems were about to come to an end. I convinced myself he was finally ready to explore other horizons, be more creative in bed, give me all the things I had always read and dreamed about.

Jason set my ass straight when I tried to put my mouth on his dick. He yanked my hand off him and pulled his pants back up. “Zoe, what did I tell you? I don’t want to do that! Not now! Not ever!”

“But Jason, I want to taste you so bad. Why can’t I?” I was devastated.

“I know what it is!” he exclaimed, shaking his finger all up in my face. “Brina and the rest of your hussy girlfriends have been drilling their nasty sexual escapades into your head. You need to leave all those bitches the hell alone.”

“Bitches?”

“Yes, bitches! Did I stutter or something?”

I couldn’t believe I tried to suck my own husband’s dick and was about to have an argument with him instead. “First of all, this has nothing to do with Brina or anybody else. This is about me and you.”

“Whatever!” He turned the television off, and the lamp on the nightstand. Then he turned away from me on the pillow. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Jason?”

“Zoe, I think it’s best we just leave this whole subject matter alone. I don’t want to argue with you.”

“I don’t want

to argue either. I love you.” I started rubbing his back. He pulled away from me.

“It’s just that you sound like a straight-up ho sometimes, and you aren’t a ho. You’re a married woman with children and responsibilities. All of your friends are too busy hanging out seeing how many men they can bed down.”

“That’s not true.”

“Whatever. Go to sleep.”

I didn’t say another word to him. He fell asleep within minutes, and I got up from the bed and went down to the kitchen to put on a pot of blackberry tea. Sitting there on our screened-in porch, drinking my tea and listening to all the birds and animals making noises somewhere out in the trees, I became enraged. I was angry about Jason and his lack of affection toward me. I knew he loved me, but he always became irate and resentful whenever I broached the subject of our sex life, or lack thereof.

I was frustrated with myself for settling for his limitations and not demanding more. I had tried to talk to him so many times but he always ended up saying I was acting like a ho. Then I thought about it. Why shouldn’t I become a ho? Why shouldn’t my sex life be just as exciting as Brina’s and my other girlfriends’? Jason was right about that one thing. I did hear all about their sexual escapades, and it made me jealous. I was sick of hearing about great sex. I wanted tohavegreat sex.

I returned to bed and stared at Jason in the dark. Then I looked up at the stars, wondering why things had to be like this. Before I fell off into a deep slumber, I had already made up my mind. If Jason wouldn’t give me the love andaffection I needed, I would find it in the arms of another man. I would find it in the arms of Quinton Matthews.

Contrary to all the nonsense I talked to myself that night about fooling around with Quinton, I lost my nerve. For two weeks, I didn’t call him or go anywhere near him. I loved my husband, and betraying him was not going to be as easy emotionally as I thought.I considered asking Jason to go to a marriage counselor with me, but I knew good and damn well he would get angry. I threw myself deeper into my work and started working longer hours at the office. Jason complained because he often had to change his schedule around to accommodate mine, so I did what most women do in a time of crisis. I called my mother.

After very little convincing, my mother agreed to watch her grandchildren three evenings a week so her baby girl could pursue her career. Besides, she always complained about not getting to see Peter and the twins enough, and I think Aubrey was beginning to get on her last nerve at home. So it was a done deal, and it gave me a well-deserved break from rushing home to cook dinner every night, helping with homework, breaking up fights between siblings, and on and on.

It was on one of the evenings I was working late at the office that I decided to relinquish my wedding vows and go see Quinton Matthews. It had been a very stressful day, and when I called Jason to seek comfort in his words, he told me he would have to get back with me and then hung up on me without saying ’bye.I decided to go for a walk in the cool air to clear myhead and ended up at the MARTA station where my favorite mural was located. I sat there on the bench, thinking about the fact that Quinton was so close. His building was right across the street. I looked up at his loft and saw that the lights were on. I played out the best- and worst-case scenarios in my mind, and to be honest, none of them made me feel comfortable. Finally, I decided I wanted to know what real sex felt like, if only once.

When I got off the elevator on his floor, I noticed there was a young woman taking some garbage down to the trash chute. She was obviously the other tenant on the floor, and her door had been left ajar. I knocked on Quinton’s door and got no answer, so I knocked harder.

“You looking for Quinton?”

“Yes, is he home?”

She came prancing down the hall toward me, and I noticed she was wearing a dance leotard and tights. She felt my eyes on her. “Oh, ’cuse the way I’m dressed. I’m a professional ballerina.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, my parents bought me this loft so I could have plenty of practice space. I think they kind of wanted my ass out the house anyway, you know?” She started smiling, and I returned the gesture, hoping she would not embark on telling me her whole life story.

I repeated my earlier question. “Is Quinton home?”

“Naw, I saw him leave out about ten minutes ago. You just missed him.”