Even before she had sex, she knew it had to be good. Married people risked losing everything because of sex. Girls risked getting pregnant, catching some nasty disease, and God knew what else, but that didn’t stop them from having sex. Something that powerful had to feel good. Ruby couldn’t wait to find out for herself what all the fuss was about. She knew enough about boys and men to know that none of them would say no, to her especially. Even though she was no raving beauty, she had the kind of body that black southern men worshipped. She was thick from top to bottom—especially her top and her bottom. Her butt was so plump and high and tight that you could bounce a quarter off of it. One of the Donaldson boys had proved that during a break from Sunday school studies one Easter morning. But the most impressive part of Ruby’s body was her bosom, so firm and perky that she didn’t even need the support of a brassiere. She balked when her mother made her wear them anyway. “Why do I have to wear a brassiere if I don’t need one?” she asked her mother that day her mother steamrolled into her bedroom with a bag full of those things. “Well, if you don’t wear a brassiere because you don’t need one, you will sure enough need one eventually. The bigger they are, the farther they fall; sooner or later.” Ruby’s mother glanced at her own bosom. “Don’t be stupid like I was.” Ruby’s mother sniffed. “Had I known what I know now when I was your age, I would have worn two strong brassieres at the same time.” Ruby’s face burned. The condition of her mother’s bosom was one thing that she did not care to hear about. “Yessum.” “You’re a woman now, Ruby Jean,” her mother said, obviously embarrassed and even a little uneasy. When her mother sat her down for that “birds and bees” talk last week, she didn’t tell Ruby anything that she didn’t already know. She had learned everything she needed to know, and some things that she didn’t need to know, from her sisters and from other worldly kids. “Dang, Mama. Why you buy up this many brassieres? I only got two bosoms!” Ruby complained with amusement. She fished one of the plain new white bras out of the bag. She couldn’t understand why her mother had purchased so many this time. The bag contained at least ten bras. “I guess this means I can court with boys now?” Ruby asked hopefully. “Naw it don’t! You still a child. You’ll have plenty of time for courtin’ boys in a few years.” A few years? She was not about to wait a few more years to have some real fun. All she had to do was find the right boy.
My husband was the last man in town that the people in our close-knit circle of friends expected to have an affair. Why he didn’t cheat was as much of a mystery to me as it was to them. When I mentioned to one of my female friends that I was married to a man who didn’t cheat, her only question was, “What’s wrong with him?”
It saddened me to hear that some people thought that there was something wrong with a man who didn’t cheat on his wife.
“There is nothing wrong with my husband. He’s as normal as any other man,” I told that friend.
“Ha! If that’s the case, he’s not normal,” that friend told me.
Maybe she was right. If it was normal for a man to cheat, then Pee Wee was not normal.
Despite the fact that I had cheated on my husband just a few months ago (yes, I’d cheated, but I’ll get to that later) and had accused him of being unfaithful on numerous occasions, I knew in my heart that he had not slept with another woman since he married me. However, one of my concerns was the other women who were dying to get their hands on him.
“If you ever break up with Pee Wee, send him to me,” another female friend had jokingly suggested. “He’s perfect.”
When I told my mother what my friend had said, she told me, “Girl, as brazen and desperate as women are these days, I’d be worried if I were you.”
Even after my mother’s comment, I didn’t worry or complain because I felt secure and comfortable. Looking back on it now, I realize I was too comfortable. That was my first mistake. I had a ringside seat in the eye of a major hurricane, but I was so comfortable I didn’t realize that until it was too late.
"'If you don't get yourself out of this vehicle and into that motel room and screw that man, I'll go up in there and do it myself!' I never expected my best friend to encourage me to have an affair. I always thought that she'd be the main person who would try and talk me out of it. Especially since she and my husband had been like brother and sister for most of their lives. But that was exactly what she was trying to do now. I knew this sister like I knew the back of my hand, so I knew she was not going to stop until I had stepped out of my panties, stretched out on my back, and opened my legs for a man who was not my husband. One of the reasons was because my girl was having an affair herself. I knew that if I got involved in one, she wouldn't feel so guilty. I was still strapped into my seatbelt and I was in no hurry to unfasten it. 'I don't know if I'm ready to cheat on my husband,' I admitted. Despite the words of protest that tumbled out of my mouth and my reluctance, I was not going to reject Rhoda's orders. I just didn't want her to know just how eager I really was to jump into bed with another man."
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