David and I made love at some length. While we were engaged in this activity, I continued to study him, between gasps, the way youd study a habit youre about to give up. This man, this particular one: all his adult physical features, all of them manfully occupied, not one of them boyish. Boyishness was not his style. We bucked and buckled and fought and ground ourselves into each other. First we made love the quiet tenderness of it and then we fucked brutally and mindlessly and then we went back to making love and then that lapsed into fucking again. He brought out a thing, a beast in me I hadnt known I had, and it always surprised me to see it, to see her as me. For the first time in my life it occurred to me that a guy who is really, really good at making love to a woman, the same woman, and who is inventively and exceptionally good at it time after time, who is carefully brutal at some moments and solicitous at others, who knows her sweet spots and concentrates on them and seems to be worshipping her body and is keen on driving her to a sweet distraction every time, is not someone to be ignored or otherwise taken for granted or dismissed on minor charges, even as a lover, a recreational human.
When we were done, I inhaled and smelled the rank and honeyed odor of our brute sexual heat, which, that evening, made me feel nostalgic for us, for the two of us. I cut it off, that nostalgia, but it kept seeping back.
After a rest, I was kissing him on his flat gorgeous stomach, seasoned with small hairs, letting my own hair tickle him, and moving downward toward where the smell was strongest. It was then that I looked up at him and said, You know what, David? Bradley proposed.
He nodded. He knew all about Bradley. Apparently he had never taken him seriously. He had his fingers in my hair, my aggressive attitudinizing hair. He frowned. Your artist? What did you say to him, Diana? He waited as if he were actually curious. What did you say in response? To his question?
I said yes.
There was a long silence after that, during which he kept his fingers in my hair, stroking my scalp. I was still kissing him, more as a delay to the next stage of whatever we would do or say to each other.
You did, eh? Well. He leaned his head back. He was quiet. Sounds of the crickets came into the room, and the music from the CD player, Coltranes A Love Supreme, and the occasional car passing by on the street. Thats interesting. So you said yes. Then he said, a bit more querulously now, his face disagreeably restive, Well, Diana. You agreed to marry him? He was alert. He was quickening. You actually did that?
Yup. Thats right, I said.
You are going to marry him. No kidding. Jesus, youre mean. Youre doing this as a little prank. This is the joker side of you. But you know, youre going to wither him right away. Honey, you are going to eat him alive. You do that to the nice ones, and I know that because you have a past and you have me, and Ive seen you in action. I know you. Dont say I dont, kiddo, I know every square inch of you. He wont stand up to you for longer than a year, you and your sharp edges. Hes not your match. Youve described him to me, here in this very bed. Youre such a bruiser, Diana, what the hell are you thinking?
Oh, Im not that mean
Yes you are.
Not to him, Im not. Besides, you dont know him. He makes me into a nice person, sometimes. You dont know what he can and cant do. Im different with him than I am with you. You know, now that you mention it, maybe I should apologize.
To whom? To me? For being in bed with me? he asked. Youre being vague. Thats not like you. Its not me you should apologize to.
No, no, thats not what Im getting at. Youre missing my point. Deliberately. Well, Bradley Somehow I couldnt finish the thought. I couldnt remember whom I thought I should apologize to. He had confused me for a minute. That wasnt like me. My mind felt bleary.
Right about then the phone rang. He told me not to answer it, but I did, leaning over him so that my breasts brushed against his legs. It was a solicitation call, one for window treatments. I hung up briskly and looked over at David.
What about Bradley? he asked me, as if we hadnt been interrupted. Speaking of whom, why are you here with me? His eyes, I thought, were quite bright with something like curiosity. Let me get this straight. If youre planning on getting married to this Bradley, this coffee guy, this sketch-pad fellow, what exactly are you doing here in bed with me? And how come you didnt tell me until now? Youre supposed to be fat with your new love. You should be thick with it. He scratched his shoulder and frowned squarely at me. You should be strutting around arm in arm with him. You should be nestled with him, listening to those Mingus albums of yours. Instead, here you are, and youre in bed with me. I thought this marriage idea of yours was a goof. You always said it was a goof.
A goof? No, I never said that. Im sure I never said that. I wouldnt use that word. I dont know. As for us, you and me, were having sex. What do you mean, what am I doing here with you? Im doing what we always do together. We talk and make love, and make love and talk.
Well, if youre going to marry him
I am going to marry him.
Then you shouldnt be curled up naked with me like this, should you? Correct me if Im wrong. You should be out there, wherever out there is, with Bradley, this fiancé of yours, and being with him. He waited for a moment. Exclusively.
Exclusively? Oh, come on. Dont be priggish about this, I said, collecting myself. Exclusively. What a word. I dont see why. Why I shouldnt be here, I mean. Youre married, after all. Youre the married one. The guilty party. I pointed at his finger. When were both naked, just the two of us, youre still dressed in your wedding ring. Im not even married yet. Im just that plain old traditional figure, the other woman. The mistress. I had his cock in my hand. I was determined to keep this light, comic, social, and not insane, and I started to suck him playfully, but he wouldnt let me go any further, shaking me off, and he sat up.
Stop that. We need to talk. Thats different, he said. My being married.
No, it isnt, I told him. Its exactly the same. You cant criticize me.
Youre wrong, he said. Youre going in, a first-timer to marriage, lecturing me on ethics while you go down on me. Youre betraying him before youve even been faithful to him. What kind of scene can you call that? You havent even tried to be faithful. There was a time when I was faithful to Katrinka. Youre so restless, Diana, you havent even given your own marriage a chance. Youre pre-bored, for Chrissake. Youre like a monster who wants me to play with all your toys, out of sheer boredom.
Youre jealous, David. Thats sweet.
No Im not. Im taken aback, is what I am. Im really taken aback.
Really taken aback. Listen to yourself. Look at the words youre using. Youre not one to give me lectures on faithfulness, buddy boy. Is this some sort of guy solidarity thing?
Youre jealous, David. Thats sweet.
No Im not. Im taken aback, is what I am. Im really taken aback.
Really taken aback. Listen to yourself. Look at the words youre using. Youre not one to give me lectures on faithfulness, buddy boy. Is this some sort of guy solidarity thing?
Well, David said. Well. He gathered himself, sat up in my bed, and stared at me. I looked away. Hey, Diana, he said, look at me. I did. No problem there. Youre a pretty strong woman, you know that? And youre beautiful. But the trouble is, youre a thug. What do you think youre doing here, doing this lonesome-girl thing in bed with me? Are you just playing with this guy? Do you love him? This Bradley person? Do you love this guy youre going to marry?
Its not that simple.
Sure it is. Its always that simple. So. Do you love him?
Hes lovable, David. Thats what counts.
No. Thats not what I asked. Lovable is different. Do you love him?
What a question. I dont know, I said. Sort of. I grinned and shrugged.
He wound back and slapped me, hard.
I got out of bed, right then, right away. I stood naked next to the window. On the bedside table the little votive candles that we always light for lovemaking were blown out by the breeze of my passing. You bastard. Get the fuck out of my house, I said.
Oh, no, I dont think so, he said, a calm and sexy insolent look on his face. Nope, I think Ill stay here for a little while. He snaked down under the sheet. Id like some coffee, if you please, Diana. He thought for a moment. Decaf. He then gave me a strange look, one I cant describe, as if hed been gratified by hitting me.
Dont you ever do that again, I said. Dont you hit me ever, you bastard. I said this calmly.
Youre marrying a man youre not sure you love? he asked from where he lay, scary and calm. Thats what youre doing? You cunt, you deserve to be slapped.
Dont you ever call me that.
What?
That word. I hate that word.
Yeah, I agree. Its an ugly word. But, you know, somebody should knock some sense into you. Honey pie, I should beat the living shit out of you. At once he was on his feet, putting on his boxer shorts. Standing there, he cut a figure (Davids vice is his physical vanity), and I couldnt help it, I watched him. He has nice legs, powerful thighs, every inch of which I had kissed and put my tongue upon, and I didnt care anymore. Ive never hit a woman before in my life. Now I see the logic in it, if its you, he said. His voice was heading toward a shout and soon would arrive there. I would save you a ton of grief if I beat the living crap out of you, so you didnt marry someone you didnt love. His eyes were glistening and bright with rage. Goddamn you. He was pacing. Youve just hired him as an entertainment. This is beneath you. Excuse me while I do the dishes. I have to calm down.
He went into the kitchen. When I heard the sound of running water, I sat on the bed and I cradled my face in my hands for a few minutes. My cheek was burning where David had struck me. I made small wrinkles in the bedsheets with my toes. I was trying to think but seemed to be out of basic cognitive resources. That was new for me. Im good at the complexities of argumentation. Somehow I hadnt I dont know why expected him to react the way he had. At last I stood up and put on a nightgown and went into the kitchen.