The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (21 page)

"A stuffed animal? Oh…um…thanks?” she says with a forced smile.

"You don't like it," Chase declares.

“No, no it’s not that,” Rayne says. "I just haven't gotten one of these since I was like…I don’t know…fifteen?” she says. Chase tries to mask his annoyance.
That damn Andrea,
he thinks to himself. Chase places the bear in the corner of the living room.

"Don't look so glum. It's sweet and it's positive. You’re sweet. I know the perfect place in my room for it. I’ll put it there later,” she says with a hand on his shoulder and slides it up and down his back as if she were calming a colicky baby.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she asks and guides him into the cozy kitchen. "I made dinner. I hope you like vegan. If you don’t, I guarantee you will tonight," she says.

Rayne opens the oven door and takes out a pan of bubbling lasagna. The unmistakeable aroma of melted cheese, tomato and spices invade Chase's nostrils. He hovers over the savory steam.

“Mmmm, smells succulent. But I thought you said it was vegan,” he says.

“It is. That’s soy cheese. I’m not just a peaceful, pretty face. I can throw down in the kitchen.”

Chase laughs. Her wit and confidence is like a magnet.

“And you assume that when I said succulent I was just referring to the lasagna,” he retorts.

“Why Mr. Archibald, are you flirting with me?” Rayne says, brushing her fingers down his spine.

Chase notices a large wooden salad bowl next to a pile of leafy greens, deep red plum tomatoes, colossal cucumbers, purple carrots and a container of black olives.

“Rayne, were you making a salad when I buzzed your door?”

“Oh my goodness yes. Let me—“

“No. Let me. You set up the plates for the lasagna and I’ll finish chopping the salad,” Chase says.

Rayne is impressed. She cuts her eye at him with a grin.

They walk back into the living room, plates in hand. She turns the volume down on the jazz station. They sit cross-legged on the handmade, jumbo, wool seat cushions. Chase grabs a fork and is about to dig in but Rayne pauses. She cups her hands in the air, bows, and whispers for several seconds before curling her fingers into her palms. She tilts up.

“Had to give thanks to the universe. You can dig in," she says. Chase scoops a chunky morsel of the vegan pasta into his fork. He is surprised at how the non-dairy cheese, strings from his utensil like a hot slice of city pizza. He circles it into his mouth. The bold zest of the tomato sauce and the smooth creamy texture of the melted soy based ricotta makes him swoon like a foodie.

"Mmmm. This is incredible. And vegetarian?” he says with a full mouth.

“Vegan. It makes me feel good that you like it,” she says. And with that they eat, drink and laugh. Time seems suspended as their conversation flows from art and creativity to community giving and literature, to her own thoughts on spirituality and internal peace. And it is the latter that Rayne exemplifies. She is a woman that appears to be comfortable in her own skin. Her stability is soothing to a man whose life is in chaos. Chase grabs the music remote from off of the floor and presses stop. He takes out his cell phone and pairs the bluetooth connection with Rayne’s speaker system.

“Look at you just taking over like you run things around here,” she says with faux annoyance.

“You know it,” Chase says.

Chase thumbs through his own music playlist and selects
Window Seat
by Erykah Badu. He taps play. The distinctive rat-a-tat-tat of the snare intro puts an immediate smile on Rayne’s face.

“Mmmm, love this song. Everyone says I remind them of her.”

“Eh. You’re not as eccentric,” Chase says as he increases the volume, rises from the cushion, and extends his palm.

“May I have this dance?”

Rayne blushes as she steadies herself in his secure grip. Chase folds his fingers into hers and hooks her waist with his arm. They press cheek-to-cheek and groove their hips to the motion of their own ocean. Rayne melts into Chase’s arms. As they dance to Ms. Badu, desire sparks a command.

"Kiss me," Rayne says. Chase pokes his index finger under her chin and lifts. He rocks his hips in sync with her waist and answers her command with a passionate full lipped smack. Tongues lock and load, slap around and lock and load some more. Her breaths grow hyper. Her soft breasts heave into his solid pecs. Chase swallows Rayne in his arms. Their ears fill with the sensual melodies of the diva siren. It fuels their passion. Rayne drives her palms up Chase’s back and digs her nails into the white cotton ripples of his shirt. Their hips grind and stir to Badu’s beats. Chase sticks the tip of his tongue in her ear.

“Ooh Chase,” she moans as he stumbles onto one of her pleasure spots.

Rayne’s thick, chestnut brown and mustard plumes of hair, brush his nostrils. A divine odor of mango butter and Moroccan argan oil sifts through him. Her scent is the aroma of Aphrodite herself.

“Damn, you smell good," he whispers between neck sucks.

“Chase, I want you.”

Chase smoothes his sexy oven mitts over her surprisingly peach bottom. She shivers at his commanding touch. He continues down to the back of her thighs and seizes them. Chase catapults her legs up and around his waist.

“Oh. Strong…so…you are,” she says as she is so aroused that she is unable to form a proper sentence.

He doesn’t merely kiss her. He cradles the back of her neck, pressing his thumbs on each temple. It’s like her head is a bowl, his mouth is the spoon and her tongue is the ice cream that will melt unless he devours it. So he does. And she loves it.

Chase slams her back against the wall causing the teddy bear to fall face forward onto the floor. He suctions her neck and embeds his fingers into her rump. The moist mound between her legs feels like it is tingling. And she can feel his hardening. Still clothed, he grinds into her as they do a different kind of dance.

“Oh God…off, off. Take this off,” she says as she hurries her fingers through the buttons of his shirt. Chase is as motivated as Rayne. He yanks her spaghetti straps down her arms. They dangle at her elbows; he pins her to the wall.

“Stand there,” he orders.

She complies.

He backs away. Rayne’s hair is a glorious mess. Her sweat makes her exposed cleavage glisten to a golden brown. She stands with shoulders bouncing, and lungs panting, in her wrinkled sun dress. Chase unbuttons the rest of his shirt, winds it up and tosses it at her feet like a chippendale. Rayne bites her bottom lip. She admires, and desires, Chase’s sculpted, shiny physique. Next he whips his belt off and unzips his jeans. As he slips his beefy legs out like a thick package, his pocket beeps and buzzes. Holding the black denims in one hand, he digs in the front for the phone.

“You’re really going to check your messages right now?” Rayne says, staring at the bulge in his thigh-length stretch boxers. It makes her eyes pop.

“I know, mood killer, I’m sorry. I’ll shut it off,” Chase says as he takes it out. The text message is already displayed on the illuminated screen:

ANDREA

Chase. What are you doing?

Pick up the damn bear!

I can only see the floor.

Rayne wrings the fabric of her dress as she ogles Chase’s firm, curved outline. Her mouth drops and her tongue flops. As Chase reaches to sit the bear upright, Rayne stomps over and grabs his wrist. The stuffed animal falls flat on its face again.

“I can give orders to,” she says. “Kneel.”

Chase drops to his knees. Rayne stands over him and squeezes each of her two ripe breasts.

“You’re thirsty,” she says. Chase screws one eye. “That wasn’t a question,” she says. Chase opens and sucks both soft mounds into his mouth like they were balls of juicy juice.

“Oh God, Chase…Oh Ch-Ch-Chase.”

He suckles. He savors. And no part of her body goes unattended. He sloths his lips up the center of her cleavage to her neck, then her shoulders, and back down again. He stands tall, slaps his long, thick fingers between her thighs and massages the hot moistness. Chase slides his trunks to his shins. Her breaths quicken; she shakes. He hooks her knees by his inner elbows, lifts her off the ground and spreads her thighs. He braces her high above his waist before initiating her slow descent.

“Oh, oh…okay…uh…wait. Chase please wait,” she says. He sucks on her neck and kisses his firmness right up to her shimmering gate. She gasps.

“Chase please…honey wait, wait. Chase please don’t.”

Chase stops sucking and freezes her above him. ”Huh, what? What’s wrong Rayne? Are you okay?”

“Um…nothing…um…I’m, I’m fine. I just…I just need a quick minute. Please put me down.”

Chase gently stands her on her own feet.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back,” she says and gives him a quick smooch. She scurries into the bathroom. Chase’s lungs start pumping. The bathroom faucet squeaks and swooshes.
Okay, don’t think anything of this Chase. Don’t assume something crazy is about to happen. She probably just needs to freshen up.
He attempts to convince himself that all is fine. He tries not to worry.
Just take it slower when she returns. Show her how much you want her but be cool, smooth, don’t take command so much.
Sixty seconds passes, his phone vibrates. As he reaches for it Rayne returns from the bathroom before he can answer it.

“I’m sorry Chase,” she says.

“It’s okay Rayne. I just—“ Rayne smacks a delicious kiss on his thick lips and
SLURPS “
—Mmph—Mmph—Mmmm,“ he says with a moan.
Okay, I guess cool and smooth just went out the door.
He lassos her tongue with his. Her arms swoon around his neck. Chase roams from her mouth to her ear. He savors her left lobe. It causes her to do a quick, jolting arch of her back as if she were poked by a needle. An erotic one. She lets out a piercing moan. Sensing her readiness Chase tugs at the bottom knot of her dress. It cascades to the floor revealing her swelling bosom. He morphs into a masseur. He kneads and kneads and kneads each doughy hill. He nips at her cocoa peaks with his two front teeth and plucks. She winces. He sucks. She smiles. He plucks. She whines. He engulfs. And she wants more. The anticipation is too much for him. Chase lifts and carries Rayne by her bottom and lays her with care onto the floor. He rocks her back in order to remove her panties. With her legs spread, he slides his tight boxers all the way off. His stiffness plops with a thud onto her moist warmth. He plants his arms on either side of her shoulders like tentpoles in the sand and braces himself over her. He gazes into her eyes, arches his back and thrusts his—

"Wait. Wait. Chase. I'm sorry stop. Please. Stop.”

Chase’s face looks like a WTF emoji. If there is such a thing.

“Stop? Rayne.” Chase searches his frustrated mind, and aroused body, for the right words.

“Chase, I’m sorry…I’m…”

Rayne’s eyes flood and her cheeks turn red. Chase removes his heavy frame from between her legs and she immediately bolts into the bathroom. He hears her whimper uncontrollably as water streams from the sink. His mind races with competing questions of doubt and fear.
Did I hurt her? Did she feel pressured? Is she afraid of me? What did I do wrong? Did I trigger something?
These questions repeat in his mind until the faucet shuts off and Rayne emerges, patting her damp face with a towel.

“Are you okay?” he says in a velvet tone.

Rayne can see the anxiety in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Chase.” Her voice drops as if she swallowed a lump.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says.

"You didn't hurt me," she says, sobbing and dabbing the bath towel on her tears. Chase smoothes a thumb over the tiny stream falling over her cheekbone. She cups his hand in her palm and presses it to her face. She kisses the underside of his palm. Chase kisses her forehead and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She sinks into him. They lounge in silence for several minutes as Chase strokes her hair. The corners of her mouth curve up.

"Why are you smiling?" he says.

“Because, I’m lying half naked, with a man I just met. I get all emotional and run away—twice—just as we’re about to have sex, and he doesn’t freak out. He just looks at me with his sexy, sensitive eyes and holds me.”

Chase presses her cheek to his shoulder.

“This is not how this was supposed to go,” she says.

He plucks a spindle of hair from over her eye.

"So what happened?" he asks.

Rayne bows her head and laughs at herself.

"You're going to think I'm so silly and childish," she says.

"Really? This coming from the woman who accepted a teddy bear?" he says glancing at the bear and seeing that it’s lying face down.

Rayne chuckles.

“So what happened?” Chase says.

“Well, it was something you did."

“Damn, I knew it. What did I do wrong?"

"I didn't say you did anything
wrong
I said that it was something you
did
. Well everything you did. You’re so strong but you’re tender at the same time. You’re dominant and very manly but you’re also gentle and aware of a woman’s delicacy.”

“Well, you are quite the delicacy,” Chase says.

“Hahaha…and you’re funny.
Delicateness
I should have said
,
okay English professor? But what I’m saying is you take charge and you make me feel so…well…
charged
myself. So alive. It was how someone used to make me feel.”

“What someone?”

Chase turns so they could mirror one another; he clasps her hands.

"My boyfriend, or whatever he is right now. He’s a musician. Plays an awesome guitar.”

“You have a boyfriend,” Chase says with bulging eyes.

“Yeah and you have a fiancée,” Rayne shoots back.

“Okay. You got that one. Good point. Continue,” he says.

“So Ilyas and I have been in a relationship since we were fifteen. So that’s almost twenty years now. We’ve been friends, cuddle buddies, friends with benefits, boyfriend/girlfriend, I hate you, I hate you too, engaged, old flames, new flames, old flames again, back and forth and round and round, but he’s never been committed one hundred percent to
anything
but his guitar. That guitar is his woman, his wife, his mistress, his damn mama, everything. I’ve wanted a child for years but the man I love doesn't have the time, or the desire.”