22

Twenty Two
“This night of no moon there is no way to meet him. I rise in longing—my breast pounds, a leaping flame. My heart is consumed in fire.”
--Ono No Komachi Kashinshu
Adrienne awoke sprawled across the bed, her boots still tied. Her eyes scanned the darkness for familiar objects. Big screen TV, red sheets, king size bed. No Gandalf. Her foggy mind processed gradually. Cinnamon and laundry detergent. She smelled him but she could not see him. Adrienne rolled over and found herself inches away from Deshawn’s face. He reached over and ran his fingers through her hair. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked groggily. “A few hours. You had a little too much to drink.” Adrienne ran her hands down his shirt.
“If I had too much to drink, how come everybody still has their clothes on?”
“Because some people decided to do a strip tease with more than a one person audience.” The anger in his sarcasm hit her like a brick wall. Adrienne climbed on top of him and rested her chin on his chest. “What exactly are we mad about? The fact that I was stripping in front of strangers or that I didn’t keep any of the money?” Deshawn stared coldly at her. Obviously he didn’t appreciate her sense of humor. “Or,” she began running her hands underneath his shirt, “we are just mad because we weren’t the center of attention.” He looked away. She sat up. “That’s it isn’t it? You think that all my sexual attention has to be directed at you all the time! I can’t just be a sensuous being. You have to always be the recipient. You spoiled little bitch.” Adrienne got out of the bed and slammed the bathroom door.
Deshawn leaned up against the wall. “Adrienne you know that has nothing to do with it. Why do I always have to be some sort of selfish anti-feminist bastard every time I get mad at you? Why am I never allowed to be mad at you? You want to know why I’m upset? Because you had too much to drink. Because you got on top of the bar and almost fell off. It doesn’t have anything to do with your sexual rights. It’s not like that ‘s your job and you had it all choreographed and you were concentrating and you knew what you were doing. You can’t dance on a bar covered in glasses when you’re has small as you are and have had more alcohol content than you can handle. As your boyfriend I’m supposed to let you do that? I’m supposed to let you hurt yourself? Goddamn it Adrienne, open the fucking door.”
The door opened slightly. Deshawn pushed it open to find Adrienne sitting on the counter by the sink, swinging her legs and kicking the cupboards. Her took her hand and placed it on his cheek. He leaned closer, touching her forehead with his. She ran her hand down the back of his neck, and brought the other arm around to clasp her hands around it. His wet lips slid from her mouth to her chin, from her chin to her neck. His hands ran up her thighs to her waist, encircling her back. Lifting her gently, he pulled her closer toward him, closing the gap between them. Adrienne wrapped her legs around his waist, shifting her weight forward. Lifting her once more, he carried her on his hips to the bed.
He ignored the jingling of the keys in the lock of the front door. His lips ran along the sides of her neck as he ignored the shouts of profanity in the living room accompanied by his name. He threw her shirt at the door as it was kicked open. Deshawn stopped ignoring his brother when the phone bill collided with his head. He looked up from Adrienne’s neck. “Goddamn it Jackson. Don’t you ever knock? What the fuck is your problem?” A topless Adrienne sat up and hugged her knees in an attempt to cover herself. “My problem? My problem is I have a jackass of a brother who didn’t pay his part of the phone bill AGAIN and I had to pay the entire thing. Either you start growing up or your slack ass better go home.” An infuriated Jackson smirked. “I don’t know why you covered up, Adrienne. I’ve seen you more naked than that.” Adrienne threw a pillow in his direction, but he shut the door before it hit him.