Down On My Knees Page 5

  Grace glanced up with her keyless remote in hand. “Oh, just a little something for a hotshot freshman point guard and his personal statistician.” She unlocked the rear doors with a steady eye on the fellows, noting their curiosity. “It appearsthat a very famous Dallas Maverick wanted to say thanks to a couple of deserving fans.”

  André’s eyes grew wide as he tore into the first box. “Ahh, Ma, basketballs signed by All-World Allen Foray!” He shoved the second box into Skyler’s waiting arms, then dove back into the other goodies at the bottom of the one he’d claimed for his own. Grace stood back, out of the way, as both boys rifled through professional basketball marketingapparel and NBA-approved knickknacks.

  “Miss H!” Skyler cheered. “Ah, man, this is old-school hype. Can I keep the throwback jersey?”

  “Yes, of course,” Grace shrugged, feeling like a mother with two sons. She understood the marketing ploy behind old-school nostalgic jerseys, but failed to understand why it was so fashionable to wear something brand new that was carefully manufactured to look twenty years old. “I met with Allen yesterday for a bit of business and told him how much of a role model he was,” she recounted. “Then he had this stuff sent over afterward. No big deal.”

  “No big deal!” the boys chuckled in unison. “Women just don’t know.”

  Allen had scored major points with Grace’s son, so his conning strategy to get in through the back door was in full tilt. She figured he’d show up again, merely by chance of course, and then lay on the charm with her the best way he knew how. The sad thing was, at Allen’s age, he didn’t know nearly enough about grown women to pull it off.

  “You’re the greatest, Miss Hilliard,” Skyler thanked her with big, round, adoring eyes.

  “Yeah Ma, the greatest,” added André, without taking his eyes off his new toys. He was still a boy after all, she thought, like a small child on Christmas morning after she had been taken to the cleaners by department store advertisements promoting good tidings and bad credit.

  Suddenly Grace remembered another thing: she’d forgottenher marketing reports in the bleachers. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back. Keep an eye on the car.”

  Without hesitation, she marched back toward the metal gymnasium doors, where the sweaty pervert was turning the locks. “Could you wait a second? I need to get something!” she yelled, when it was obvious he’d seen Grace approaching but couldn’t have cared less. “I know you’re not trying to close that door while I’m standing here!” She couldn’t believe his utter disregard and rudeness.

  “Too late,” the stumpy cash-box handler fired back. “I’m locking up.”

  “How long do you think they’ll lock you up when I tell the school board about your high-school-girls-gone-wild cheerleader fantasies?” The sweaty doorkeeper smirked sheer displeasure at being called out. “Uh-huh, I saw you looking real hard at those underaged girls, and I’m sure their parents would take offense to that,” Grace added, stepping past him while his mouth hung open. Freak!

  Relieved that her important files were still where she’d left them, Grace sorted through the stack to ensure none had fallen through to the floor beneath the stands. Her smile dissolvedas she descended the bleacher steps. There was a man, a fine one, discussing the game with André’s coach. Grace assumed he was one of the other player’s parents, a married parent at that, so she tried not to stare too hard.

  “Oh my goodness,” someone whispered. Grace was mortifiedwhen both men turned toward her after hearing the whispers as well, indicating that those words had not only come out of her mouth, but also had come out much louder than she’d thought.

  “Excuse me,” said the handsome gentleman with caramel-coloredskin and flawless features.

  “Nothing, just almost slipped,” she lied, avoiding eye contact. Don’t look back, she thought to herself. Grace, don’t you dare look back at him. And wouldn’t you know, when she did glance over her shoulder, he was still there wearing the same curious expression and gazing in her direction.She thought, Some sistah is a very lucky woman, Grace, just keep right on moving. She assumed that Mr. Oh-My-Goodnesshad to be attached because he was so well groomed and looked too adorable in his navy sports coat and khaki slacks to be unattached.

  “You want to unlock that chain!” Grace barked at the doorkeeper standing too close for comfort. He glared at her briefly and then unlocked the chains he’d placed around the door handles. “Like you didn’t know I’d be coming back the same way,” she hissed. The man stepped aside as she strutted down the steps to the parking lot, and out of his life.

  As Grace approached the boys, still ogling the sportswear she’d given them, she opened her car door, then stole a glance back at the gym, wondering if the well-dressed man inside was thinking about her, too. She shrugged and shook it off when it occurred to her that it probably didn’t matter. He had to belong to someone. He had to.

  “Good night, Skyler. Take care. André, let’s roll,” Grace announced hurriedly after noticing that neither of the boys were eager to relinquish their moment of enjoyment. “We’ve got to get home,” she added when her son frowned. Grace rolled her eyes in return and sentenced him to silence. “Don’t ask, Dré. Don’t ask.” She didn’t know exactly what she was running from, but something about that man had made her nervous, nervous and foolish. That’s why she couldn’t wait to see him again, even if it was for just a hot minute to investigate those striking features of his one more time. There was no harm in just looking at another woman’s man, Grace reasoned all the way home, unless he was the kind of man who made her feel nervous and foolish.

  Speaking of foolish, Greg Anderson called on Grace’s cell phone during her trip to her side of town. She fished the phone out of her purse and read the name on her caller display.Without giving it a second thought, she tossed the tiny flip phone back into her purse and let it stay there until she reached her house and took her sweet time settling in. Greg was her other “just-a-friend,” as she put it when André asked who the man was that sent over a bucket of chocolate-coveredraisins on her birthday. If there was ever a man who made Grace laugh harder than any well-written sitcom, it was Greg. His comical look at life was refreshing in the beginning,but as the saying goes, the one thing she most admiredabout him was the same thing that irked her to no end after she’d gotten to know him. It was Greg’s humorous disposition,bordering on adolescent behavior, that had Grace asking herself why she was considering driving clear across town to play house.

  She discovered that Greg had left two additional messages.Feeling unsure about whether to make the trip to his place or not, Grace sat on her bed and contemplated. She returnedhis calls, and prepared herself to take a pass on his offer until Greg picked up on the first ring and made her laugh until her sides hurt. Grace smiled ear to ear when Greg sang into the phone, “Anderson’s Mortuary. You tag ’em, we bag ’em, two wings and a gizzard basket while you wait.”

  “You are too silly for words, Greg,” she chuckled. “I know you checked your caller ID, so you know who this is.”

  “It’d better be Amazing Grace, because that’s who’s got me taking cold showers.”

  “Humph. If I know you, it’s probably crowded in there,” she answered back, closing the bedroom door before locking it. She walked over to her chaise longue, covered in a majesticcream fabric, matching the special-ordered comforter on her king-size bed. Since no one, under any circumstances, was allowed in her boudoir without being invited, Grace felt enough at ease to strip down to nothing if she were so inclinedto talk dirty until verbal stimulation wasn’t enough to get her through the night.

  “Grace. Grace! You still there?” Greg asked, his voice risingto get her attention. “I was telling you about the three-ringcircus act in town from Senegal. I had the Triplets on the Trapeze over to the house last week and I got all three of ’em drunk on a six pack of Malt Duck, but they didn’t allow for audience participation, so all I got to do was watch.” His shtick was wasted on Grace. She was busy recalli
ng her last flextime episode with Tyson, and getting more of what she wanted on a more frequent basis.

  “Hmmm, I’m sorry, Greg. My mind wandered. It was a very long day.” With the telephone propped on her shoulder, Grace slid on a silk three-quarter robe with a pastel Asian print detailed in mauve and teal.

  “Good, then you should wander on over here and let me put your mind at ease with something from the freak sack. Forget what happened the last time, when I forgot to take my ginseng,” he apologized. “I even lifted some powered rhinocerostusk off that circus troop to make up for it, and you know that’s hard to get.”

  Grace’s thighs had begun brushing softly against one another,and before she knew it, she’d drifted away again. “Greg, did you say something about a rhinoceros?”

  “Yeah, they say Viagra ain’t got nothing on rhinoceros tusks. It’s the aphrodisiac from the motherland.” Although he was joking about Senegalese Circus Troupes and Triplet Trapeze acts, Greg had been known to come by very peculiarsexual stimulants every now and then. Some of them even worked. Greg sensed that Grace was nibbling at his bait. If he could get her to bite, he’d be that much closer to nibbling at hers.

  Imagining him trying out something new from his bag of tricks, Grace felt warm inside as both of her eyes opened wide. She laughed just thinking about how ridiculous Greg looked, crossing his fingers on the other end. “So this tusk business, where do you put it?” she asked finally.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think to steal the directions too,” he chuckled in a carefree manner. “I can’t think of everything.”

  “Okay. All right, Greg. You got me.” Grace figured she was due some authentic tribal experimentation, or else she’d stay up all night tossing, turning, and wishing she had. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  “How shortly?” he begged to know.

  “We’ll both know when I get there, won’t we? Just make sure you have that motherland aphrodisiac ready.”

  “It’s ready now, baby, oh ... You mean that powered stuff,” he cackled. “’Cause you know, I’m always packing that Urban Root. I don’t leave home without it.”

  “I’ll be there within the hour to see if you’re making promises again that you can’t keep,” Grace sniped quickly, then hung up the phone.

  6

  Bag O’ Tricks

  Grace slipped on an orange tank top and the first jogging suit she came across in her spacious walk-in closet. By the time she put on a neatly folded navy blue velour two-piecefrom the top shelf, André had already showered, completedhis homework, and parked himself in front of the television. He never missed the SportCenter highlights. “Dré,” Grace called out with an empty gym bag tossed over her shoulder, “I’m going to get in a quick workout. I’ll be back before ten.” She hated lying to him, but it wasn’t a lie, entirely.It just wasn’t the whole truth. When she saw his head nodding, although he neglected to turn away from the tube, she knew he’d heard her just fine.

  The subdivision Greg lived in was thirty-five minutes away if Grace hurried. That left her an hour to get in a good horizontal cardio workout and return home before André headed off to bed. Although he was old enough to tuck himselfin and was very responsible for his age, she felt there was something maternally wrong about letting him sleep in that big house of their’s alone. There was no time to get caught up in Greg’s shenanigans or his idea of extended foreplay. She was determined to get in, get what she came for, and get out.

  When Grace turned into his driveway, the garage door elevatedon cue. Greg patiently awaited her arrival, not leaving anything to chance. His neighbors had gotten an earful the last time a woman showed up and preceded to go slap off while he was in the middle of satisfying another one. Ever since that night, Greg made it a point to conceal any appearanceof adult entertainment from passersby.

  “There she is,” he sang, wrapped in a thick cloth robe dyed in deep purple. “Come over here so I can do some thangs to you.”

  “You cut your hair,” Grace noticed after imagining what sort of thangs he had in mind.

  “Yeah, I did. All of it,” he answered with a goofy grin. The belt holding his robe closed loosened even further when he extended his arms to embrace her. His rippled stomach and skinny legs reminded Grace of a much younger man’s body, despite his being four years older than she. Greg was considered more cute than handsome. His fair complexion was smooth, with freckles sprinkled here and there, and he was sporting the scrawniest goatee imaginable. His decision to dispense with pubic hair altogether was an obvious mistake,but Grace didn’t have time to inquire about his reasoningbehind the bald and bold look.

  Eventually, Grace lowered her workout bag to the floor, studied her sports watch, and then she did as instructed so that Greg could get busy doing some of those thangs to her. The citrus scent of his shower gel tickled her nose. “That’s nice,” she cooed, over both his fresh fragrance and the way he gently fondled her breasts. Her nipples stiffened before she’d had the chance to push Greg away. “I need a shower. The long day and all.”

  “Good, I’ll come in and keep you company.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be right out,” Grace declined.

  “I’ll be watching,” he informed her, with his hands cuppingher behind.

  “I know you will.”

  As promised, Greg spied on Grace through a thin opening in the shower curtain. He stroked himself aggressively while eying every square inch of her soapy skin. Climbing in to join her occurred to Greg more than once, but it was more erotic from his vantage point. He was turned on, just as he always had been whenever observing Grace from the confinesof his own private peep show. When she stepped out, soaking wet and glistening, Greg gulped and licked his lips. His heart rate quickened as the thought of meeting his desireshead-on became overwhelming. “C’mon now, I’m about to burst,” he murmured, wrestling on a condom.

  “Slow down, Greg,” she advised as he whisked her towel away. “What about that African powder you were talking about?”

  Greg pulled her toward the bedroom. “I got it right here, baby. Ooh, lay down.”

  Grace pulled back the indigo-hued linen sheets, then sat on the bed. “Blue, I like blue,” she moaned. “You know what else I like?”

  Sprinkling a fine white powder between Grace’s legs, Greg gestured that he understood without a doubt what she liked, but had other ideas. “Yeah, but I want to try this out first.” He flicked on the antique lamp resting on the nightstandso he could see the powder taking effect. “Let me know when it starts to tingle.”

  “Oh, it’s tingling already,” Grace confessed, with heated breath. “I want to feel you inside. Give it to me.” Grace felt a prevailing sensation between her thighs. She ached, panting louder and louder. Greg maneuvered his way into her, lookingon with his typical wide-eyed gaze as she began to gyratein ecstasy. “It’s hot, Greg. Ooh, it’s hot. Give it to me. Give. Give. Give. Oh, that’s it. Harder! Harder!” She writhed beneath his best efforts to keep up, but he wasn’t capable of creating the satisfaction she begged for. “Get the bag, honey,” Grace ordered. Her mouth was as dry as desert sand, but she hadn’t noticed. She could think of nothing but havinghim to quench her raging fire. “Hurry, Greg! Please!”

  He leapt from the bed to search his top drawer. When he returned, with a black sackcloth bag, Grace swallowed hard. Greg reached inside and came out with a small handheld battery-operated manipulator. The soft rubber toy was fashionedin the shape of a miniature dolphin, with a vibrating head and tail. When it met Grace’s skin, she screamed, “Ahhh! That’s it. Ahhh!” Grace caught glimpses of Greg’s sinister grin while his head bobbed up and down. She screamed, “Okay, I want you. Come on, honey, I want you!” Always willing to close the show, Greg tossed the manipulator aside and then assumed its place.

  There was such a chorus of moaning and bodies smackingviolently together, it would have been difficult to distinguishwhich belonged to whom. Grace wrapped her legs around Greg’s neck as he placed a p
illow under her behind to heighten the impact of penetration. Grace was enthralled in the throes of passion when her eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh, it’s coming baby! Give it to me! Oh, God, it’s good! Oh, Godddd!”

  Suddenly, Greg slammed on the brakes. His body stiffened.“Grace, I’ve told you about that,” he reprimanded her.

  “Don’t stop!” she pleaded loudly.

  “Don’t call God’s or nobody else’s name who ain’t alreadynaked and in this bed. You want Him to see what you’re doing? Well, I don’t.”

  “Greg, I’m begging you. I was almost there. Don’t go gettingall righteous on me now.”

  He tried to unlock her legs from around his neck, but she wouldn’t allow it. “Grace, I had my immorality in check, but no, you had to go calling His name and bringing attention to us.”

  “So what, you’re just going to leave me all hot and botheredlike this?” Grace was visibly upset to the point of becominghostile.

  Greg considered the alternative, which would have left them both high and dry. “Nah, I didn’t necessarily say that.” Obviously, his ethics were not beyond reproach. “It’s just hard to concentrate on pleasing you and trying to dodge thunderbolts at the same time. When you scream out His name like that, it gives me the creeps.” Greg’s eyes floated up toward the ceiling. She scowled angrily and pushed him away with the balls of her feet.

  “Hey, what was that for?” he bellowed sorrowfully.

  “Now you’ve ruined it for me too,” Grace huffed. When he attempted to mount her again, she stifled his aim. “Quit it, Greg! Move!”

  “Whoa, you’re serious?”

  “That’s the problem here, we’re not serious, neither of us.” Grace pulled the bedsheets up to her neck.

  Greg propped up two pillows directly behind her. “Here, lay your head on this.” Saddled with a deflated erection to match his deflated ego, Greg sat up with his back against the headboard. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on with you, or do I have to guess?”