Page 150 of S is for SEX

KAT

In the two weeks following our discussion about attempting to make something work between us, we had seen each other every day. Although we didn’t have sex on every single day, we came close. I found it rather reassuring that I no longer felt a need to have sex, only a desire. My problem seemed to be the same as Biscuit’s. My desire was overwhelming, leaving our sexual downtime as the only opportunity to truly get to know one another.

“I think it’s funny you never asked what my name is.”

The low rumble of his voice prevented me from falling asleep totally. I was probably a few seconds away from it, floating in the almost dream-like state that always seemed to precede my passing out. I blinked my eyes, confused on where I was and what was going on. The warm sun against my skin and the sight of him beside me reminded me of where we were and what was happening.

I opened my eyes and began to fumble along the side of the lounge for my sunglasses. He rolled to his side and laid his head flat against the cushions of the chair. After finding my glasses and shading my tired eyes, I responded.

“I uhhm. I never really…I don’t know. It’s not that it didn’t matter, but it didn’t matter. I figured when you were ready to tell me you would. I guess I didn’t want to pry. I know from talking to Avery that you’re a private bunch of men, I was just being respectful, I guess,” I said.

“Dalton,” he said as he turned his head toward the sun.

I nodded my head and grinned, “I like it.”

“Ain’t got a middle name. They never gave me one. Last name’s Biskette. It’s where Biscuit came from, but that ain’t too difficult to figure out,” he said as he sat up in the chair.

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood, “I’m gonna hop in. It’s hotter’n grits on a motherfuckin’ griddle out here.”

His speech patterns, funny sayings, and the slang he used led me to believe he grew up elsewhere. Not wanting to insult him, but curious about his upbringing, I stood from my lounge and tossed my glasses against the towel beside my chair.

“Where did you grow up again?” I asked as I followed him across the concrete deck.

“Alabama,” he said as he dove into the pool.

He was an extremely graceful man in many respects. To watch him walk was nothing short of entertaining. There was a certain gate to his walk, not what most called swagger, but a small pattern. It was almost as if he had a bad hip or knee, but I knew he didn’t. With each step of his right foot, his right hip would dip forward. Not only did it make his walk interesting, but there was a certain grace to his walk, almost like watching a ballerina. Seeing him dive into the pool made me believe he had at least taken diving lessons at one point in time. His body entered the water in a manner that produced virtually no splash, and made me quite envious.

As I dove into the pool, I wondered what my splash looked like.

“Have you taken swimming lessons? And diving lessons?” I asked as I cleared the surface of the water.

He wiped the water from his beard as he nodded his head, “At the Y. Figured when I bought the house I’d need to know how to swim and stuff, so I took lessons for a few years. You’ll find out I don’t do anything I can’t do properly. Ain’t nothin’ worse than someone tryin’ to do something and lookin’ like a fuckin’ idiot doin’ it.”

“Do I look like an idiot when I dive in?” I asked.

“No,” he chuckled.

“You lying?”

“Maybe a little,” he said as he swung his hand over the top of the water’s surface, splashing it into my face.

“You fucker,” I howled as I attempted to do the same.

Now in a heated splashing fight, we both swung our arms violently, splashing and screaming like children.

Being with Biscuit was so much different than being with Kyle. With Kyle, I was always on edge and wondering what his next complaint was going to be, and how he was going to treat me as a result of it. The tension between Kyle and I was thick, and I remained nervous throughout the entire relationship. At the time, I was convinced it was simply part of being with a man and the differences between men and women.

Actually being accepted by a man and not having to worry about being criticized for every mistake I made was a pleasant change, and certainly something I would have to get used to. I found myself waiting for the axe to fall with Biscuit, and it never did. Oftentimes I would do or say something I fully realized Kyle would explode about, and wait for Biscuit to do the same.

But the anger never came.

Truly grateful to have met him and pleased at our ability to be ourselves in each other’s presence, I swung my arms like a flailing fool. Eventually we both stopped. Declaring a winner would have been impossible; he had better precision, but I possessed more determination.

“Now I’m exhausted,” I sighed, “I’m glad it’s Saturday.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked as he tossed his hair out of his eyes.

“Well, not everyone works on their own schedule. I’ve got the day off and no school, so I’m pretty happy. I get to relax,” I said as I waded across the pool away from him.

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