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  Dwight had promised his wife months ago that they would spend a day going through and discussing the new ideas she had for remodeling the house. That hadn’t happened. Dwight had been working crazy hours at the firehouse for over a month. Soon his landscaping customers would line up like planes waiting for take-off. They couldn’t coordinate their time together. Tired of waiting, Mink decided she’d make some decisions herself. Dwight would just have to live with it.

  With swatches and samples spread all over the dining table, mother and daughter started hashing out a theme for the decor. The day before, Mink had scoured the Michigan Design Center in Troy, where the ideas and innovations for home decorating were sometimes five years ahead of the retail stores. She had come home with wallpaper samples, ceramic tiles, and fabric swatches.

  “I’ve got this brass lamp in my study that would fit perfectly—”

  “No, Spice,” Mink said. Her mother loved that lamp.

  Mink and Spice could hear Azure giggling in the kitchen. “You come on in here and help us, sweetie,” Spice said while flicking through the Henredon catalog. “I never get enough time with my grandchild.”

  After Azure joined them, seated on Spice’s lap, Mink picked up the paint samples. “We’ve got a lot to do. Let’s dig in.”

  “You said French contemporary?”

  “Yeah, I want something kind of funky, eye-catching, as soon as you walk in. I’m going to do the entire house, front to back, upstairs and down. This house is so cold looking, it looks like a bachelor lives here.”

  “Is that because Dwight did most of the decorating when you first moved in?”

  “Yeah, my mistake. I didn’t have the time. Then, when I saw what he’d selected, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Now it’s time that I expressed myself. As long as I keep the same bed, I don’t think he’ll complain too much.”

  A few minutes passed in silence as mother and daughter and granddaughter flipped through the samples.

  “Have you heard from Sterling?” Spice asked, pretending it was a casual question.

  “No.” Mink added dryly, “After that little fight, I think we both need time to cool off.”

  “Yeah, but this long? I knew she’d stay away for a while when I cut off her credit cards, but this is too much. One of us—me, probably—should contact her.” Spice picked up a magazine and started flipping the pages.

  “Not so fast, Spice. You’ve got to accept that Sterling has to finally take responsibility for her life. You can’t always be there to save her.”

  “Carmen believes that I’m responsible. Carmen thinks—”

  “Stop right there. I already know what you’re going to say.” Mink shook her head and sat in the chair. “Just because Carmen and you have known each other for decades, that still doesn’t give her the right to try to tell you how to parent your kids.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “I know. But why is it that people think they can tell you how to do something they won’t do themselves? If Carmen’s so knowing about motherhood, why doesn’t she have kids herself ?”

  Spice looked away. “She’s not in a position. Besides, Carmen is having a really hard time lately. I think she may crash soon. I don’t want to even think a negative thought about her. She needs support.”

  Mink didn’t want to go into Carmen and her problems. Carmen and Spice’s friendship was too complicated. As close as Carmen had been to them all over the last few years, she always kept her distance. The more she drank, the more remote she became. It had been confusing to Mink in those sensitive days when she needed so much herself. It hurt her, and although Carmen had once truly felt like family, Mink didn’t feel that way about her mother’s friend anymore.

  Noticing the sadness on her mother’s face, Mink knew it was time to change the subject. “As far as Sterling goes, she’s got to stop feeling sorry for herself. Just because she can’t get her life together doesn’t give her the right to blame you. I don’t agree with Carmen. How long is a mother duty bound to her child? Is it for a lifetime? Is it until they turn eighteen? When do you stop putting your child first and start thinking about your own life? Sterling is not your responsibility anymore.”

  Spice shook her head. “I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been the same since David died.”

  “You can’t fix that problem. David spoiled her rotten, and now he’s not here to straighten her out.”

  Azure exhaled loudly.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Spice asked.

  “I’m finished. Can I go now?”

  Spice kissed Azure’s cheek and lifted her down from her lap. She smiled as she watched Azure exit the room.

  Afterward they were quiet, reviewing paint samples. Spice pulled out a blue as crisp as winter’s noon sky. Mink held it against the wall, the carpet.

  Finally Spice resumed the conversation. “I can’t say that Sterling’s problems are not mine, but I can’t intrude—could you call her?”

  Mink sighed.

  “Thanks, honey. Listen, speaking of David, get this—Otis comes by all the time. He’s been calling a lot lately.” She waited for her daughter’s reaction.

  Mink whistled. “That’s a good-looking man. He’s definitely got his shit together. So what’s the problem?”

  “He’s David’s brother.”

  “Spice, get real. If he was your brother, I’d be shocked. David’s gone. No one besides Otis from the Witherspoon family lives here. There’s no one to judge you but you. And if you feel right about it, it’s no one else’s business.”

  “I’ve always been attracted to Otis. I mean, since David died,” Spice hurried to add.

  “Anyone can see why,” Mink said slyly.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Of Otis?”

  “No. Of me. There’s something wild inside of me that I’ve suppressed for years. David wasn’t that kind of man. Otis is like . . . he’s like . . .”

  “Dwight.”

  “Yeah. He’s got that animal attraction about him that can weaken a woman.”

  “You have to be a weak woman to begin with. And we both know that you’re not.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Spice said, smiling. “You definitely have a point.”

  * * *

  When Dwight came home late that same night, he slipped quietly into the master suite, showered, went downstairs, and took out Kahlúa, Bailey’s, Amaretto, and whipped cream. While waiting for coffee to brew, he mixed together the ingredients for a screaming orgasm, then, holding two brimming mugs, he skipped up the back stairs and turned on the music in the bedroom.

  Mink grumbled as the blare of music awakened her from a sound sleep. Hooding her sleepy eyes to check the clock, she complained, “It’s four A.M., Dwight.”

  Dwight stood six feet two. Except for the mole on his right cheek that stood out against his burnt sienna complexion, his face and head were nude of hair. Through daily weight training, his muscular body at thirty-one looked like a twenty-year-old’s. Even though the guys at work kidded Dwight about his skinny bowlegs, Mink felt it only added to his sexiness.

  He placed the glass mugs on the night table and, pulling back the covers, ran his warm hands over her breasts. “I miss you, sweetie,” he said, kissing her from lips to belly button. “I know you’re ready for some of this,” he said, guiding her hand to feel his erection.

  The gold cross earring he wore in his right ear tickled her skin. “Yeah, I am,” she breathed.

  Casually sipping the hot liqueur, both felt giddy and relaxed as they listened to Barry White blow his velvet tunes through the stereo speakers built into the room.

  Before Dwight led her into the bathroom, he rubbed the bare bulbs surrounding the tub with eucalyptus oil. He enjoyed watching his wife’s flattering figure as gown and underwear were removed. He was aroused and reached out for her.

  Honey, jojoba, and the seductive aroma of eucalyptus filtered through the room, giving it the atmosphere of an outdoor flower gard
en.

  While Mink sat on the edge of the tub, Dwight filled the Jacuzzi, then turned on the jets. Dwight helped her step down, then slid his long body beneath the bubbles until they covered his neck.

  Mink reached out to hug him, then eased back to the other end of the tub and placed her legs outside of Dwight’s. Sliding her buttocks forward until they touched his thighs, she felt the velvety tip of his penis touch her moist opening.

  As he slid easily—deliciously—inside her, Barry White harmonized the music their bodies made together. Tons of bursting bubbles circled around their wet bodies and then overflowed onto the floor as they sped up the pace. It was wet, it was wild, it was needed, as they came together in a hurried climax. They laughed at the mess they’d made as Dwight toweled their bodies dry, then carried her back to bed.

  She kissed him affectionately on the mouth, then pressed her hot body close. They lay breast against breast, hip pressed against hip, until the heat of their naked flesh demanded more.

  Dwight kissed Mink tenderly as he ran his fingers through her short hair.

  He entered her again, driving as far into her depths as she would allow. Mink felt him sink into her softness, not daring to breathe.

  They moved as one in blissful harmony, heart to heart, mind to mind, in body and soul the way only love could bind.

  He pushed steadily, steadily deeper, until he heard her gasp. Mink met his strokes with equal force, sucking in her stomach muscles to pull in more of him.

  “Tell me where the fire is,” Dwight said seductively, kissing her. “Tell me where it still burns.”

  They came together violently, each drowning in the hot desire that enslaved the raging power they felt between them.

  “Are you still up for the rest?” Mink asked as she caressed the inner sides of his thigh. “I purchased a five-brush artist set while I was in Texas. Guess what I plan on stroking them on?”

  “You’ve got so much freak in you, Mink.”

  Moving her fingers higher and fondling the length of his love muscle, she asked in a deep baritone, “You like that, baby?”

  “I love it.” He rolled over to his side and took her breast in his mouth, sucking tenderly until he heard her gasp with pleasure. “I can’t wait much longer, baby.”

  “Me neither,” Mink said, blushing. “I’ll be right back.” When she returned, she held a glass of ice water and a small case of fine artist brushes.

  “Sweetie?”

  “Lie back,” she commanded. “I’m running this show tonight.” She lifted a brush from the case, dipped the tip inside the glass, then stroked him gently. “This is called an angular shader.” Squatting over his midsection, she angled the brush beneath his scrotum and brushed under, over, and around until she heard him gasp. “And this one,” she said, reaching back inside the case,” is a seven-sixteenths-inch script liner. My sensual signature says all this is mine.” She brushed, then alternately licked the radius of his penis.

  “Umm. Don’t stop, sweetie.”

  “And this . . . and this one,” she said, dipping, then slowly caressing his moist tip, up and around the outer rings until she felt him squirm, “is an inch-and-a-half long liner. The tip is so slender, so tender, like you, baby. Can you feel it?”

  “Damn, that shit is good, sweetie.”

  “Wait. Wait . . . here’s number four—a small fan.” Mink felt Dwight tugging the sheets, knowing he was seconds away from exploding in orgasmic ecstasy.

  While her right hand worked magic with the brushes, she used her left hand to explore every inch of his body, taking pleasure in the roughness of his legs, the toughness of his feet, the tender texture of chest hair, the delicacy of his eyelids, the muscles on his arms expanding and contracting, and finally the miraculously compliant feel of his penis’s head.

  Dwight arched his back, and his toes curled in sublime pleasure as Mink used the final wide, fanlike brush in a circular fashion over the length of his penis, pressing, releasing, up and down, fast . . . then slower, until Dwight came in spasms of erotic ecstasy.

  Wanting to give as much as he received, Dwight turned his wife over onto her back and tenderly thrust the length of him deeply inside her. His orgasm so close, Mink was even more turned on. Their passion built still, and Dwight plunged deeper, thrusting lower and farther inside her as she let her love hold, envelop them, sustaining their animalistic lust until the wild pulse of savage joy could be held back no more.

  There was ecstasy on Mink’s face as they came together. There was peace. Their bodies had communicated in a language that surpassed words. And when they slept, her naked torso cupped in the arch of his abdomen felt intoxicating. Coupled close, they absorbed the secretions of their love. Throughout the night he uttered, “Mink, Mink . . .” and reached out to stroke her, and she fell into a deeper sleep whispering his name.

  * * *

  Just as the birds began to sing, Mink was awakened by a series of buzzes and loud bangs at the front door.

  “Hold on,” she called, letting Dwight sleep and coming down the stairs herself to answer the door.

  “Who is it?” Erma asked from the top of the stairs as she put on her glasses.

  “I’m not sure.”

  It wasn’t quite eight-thirty. Standing on her tiptoes, Mink peered through the glass enclosure on the door at the stranger outside. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Is Dwight Majors at home?” the voice answered.

  “Who is it?” Mink asked again.

  “I’d like to speak with Dwight Majors, ma’am.” The man backed up and flashed a silver badge that read “36th District Court Bailiff Common Police,” so that Mink could see. “I’m a process server.”

  Mink was at a loss. Never faced with the law in her life, she didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly she opened the door a crack. “He’s asleep,” she said finally.

  “Could you wake him, ma’am?”

  “No. You’ll have to come back.”

  “It’s important that I deliver this today. You’re just making it worse.”

  Now Mink’s hands were shaking visibly. Her voice held a nervous quaver. “What kind of trouble—”

  “Mink,” Dwight’s voice came from the stairs. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Without another word, Mink left Dwight alone to handle his business. She knew that he was waiting for her to get out of earshot before he spoke. So, just out of his view, on the third stair, she stopped to eavesdrop.

  “Mr. Majors?” the man asked.

  “I’m Dwight Majors. Is there some sort of problem, Officer?”

  He handed Dwight the papers. “You’ve been served by the Third Circuit Court in the county of Wayne.”

  “Wait a minute!” Dwight shouted, opening the petition and scanning its contents. “Child support? What the fuck is this shit about?”

  The man had already turned and walked away.

  Mink raced up the stairs in a rage.

  He’d better have a damned good explanation, she thought. Child support! That son of a bitch has been fucking around. That bastard!

  She slammed the door of their bedroom, waiting for Dwight to come in and plead his case. She took a seat on the edge of the bed—waiting. The face she wore wasn’t pretty when Dwight finally entered their room.

  Just as Mink was ready to pounce, Azure screamed. Dwight instantly made a 180-degree turn and went to check on his child. Mink followed. Azure was doubled over, heaving her guts out and wailing between heaves. A trail of vomit led from the table to the kitchen sink.

  “Daddy’s here, sweetheart.” Dwight felt Azure heave the final load of vomit on his chest as he grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. Her tiny stomach was working so fast, he waited a moment for her to settle down and then wiped her mouth again with a fresh napkin. When Azure finally stopped crying, hiccups followed. “Let Daddy get his baby some water.”

  Stepping back from the mess, Mink left the kitchen.

  Filling the tub with water, Mink poured a few drops of C
hinese flower oil in the center, then turned up the jets on the Jacuzzi full blast. She shed her nightclothes, and just as she stepped in the inviting pool, she heard Dwight’s voice.

  “She’s okay now.” Dwight stripped off his pajama top.

  “Take that top downstairs and put it in the washer. It stinks,” she snapped. “You’re dropping cornflakes and vomit all over my white carpeting.”

  “Sorry,” he said, leaving his wife with an angry scowl on her face. “Baby-Z could use some help downstairs.”

  “You’re doing fine,” Mink answered, and eased down up to her neck into the fragrant, pulsating water.

  After showering, Dwight pleaded with Mink to listen to him before judging him. “The woman has been obsessed with me for years, sweetie.”

  “What woman!” Mink shouted. “Who the fuck is she?”

  “No one you know. I didn’t want to bother you—”

  “You didn’t want to bother me about some woman claiming to have had your baby?” Her voice rose with every word. She knew she was on the edge of hysteria.

  Dwight sat on the bed with a pained expression on his face. “She threatened—”

  “So it’s not yours?” Mink buttoned her blouse and watched him as she stood before the mirror. “You damned liar!” she roared. She rolled her eyes at him, then looked away, shaking her head as tears fell down her cheeks.

  “Mink—”

  “You scroungy bastard,” Mink seethed between her teeth.

  “Give me a chance to—”

  She was shaking. “Get out! Leave. Get the fuck out of my house before I kill you.”

  “Sweetie . . .”

  But Mink turned her back on him. She wouldn’t let a word or a touch of his in. Instantly she imagined a granite wall around her mind and heart. “Do Not Enter, Dwight Majors” was carved in the imagined gray stone.

  Dwight’s shoulders slumped with defeat. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness, but Mink wouldn’t even look at him. After taking a fresh shirt, slacks, and socks from his bureau drawer, he opened the bedroom door and stopped.