Page 48 of Double

I rolled off of her so that I wouldn’t crush her, but I pulled her body to mine. One thought ran on a continuous loop through my mind. I think I love my wife.

17

My Man. My Man. My Man. (Reprise)

Tinsley

One week after my husband introduced me to the pleasures of sex, he scheduled an appointment for me to meet up with Lyric. Instead of having her bring the selections to the house, he took me to her studio.

“I really hate that you feel like you have to miss work to chauffeur me everywhere,” I said as the two of us rode toward our destination. “I can drive, you know?”

“Nah. Before I let you wander the streets of this city by yourself again, you’re gonna need at least ten more self-defense lessons.”

“Ten!” I practically shrieked. “I’ve already had ten. How long does it take to teach somebody to defend themselves?”

“You haven’t had ten lessons.”

“I have.”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance over at me. “You’ve had like . . . two and a possible.”

“There’s no way.”

“There is a way, when every time I start a lesson, you interrupt it by dropping to your knees and sucking my dick.”

“Your dick is the one asking for trouble with the way he’s always trying to bulge out of those compression shorts you like to wear. Besides, I thought you liked that.”

“Quit playing with me. You know I love that shit. It is distracting, though. When you finish, we never go back to the lesson. I start fuckin’ on you, and the next thing you know, we’re wakin’ up.”

I had to laugh because that was exactly how the last few lessons had gone.

“At this point, I’mma have to book you some lessons with Charity. All you’re learnin’ with me is how to take this dick like a champ.”

I pushed his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.” I also had to be honest, though. “But yes, you should set something up with Charity because I don’t remember one thing you supposedly taught me.”

It was his turn to laugh as we pulled into a parking space in front of Lyric’s studio. It was one of the businesses on the four-block stretch that Double’s family owned. Double came around the truck, opened my door, and helped me out of the vehicle. Then we walked hand in hand up to the establishment.

The lock on the front door was released, and we stepped inside. I wasn’t sure what I expected it to look like. I had never been fancy enough to visit an actual stylist’s studio. Though my family was moderately wealthy, I always bought off the rack. My father never spent big money on me. The space was gorgeous and put me in the mind of a bridal boutique. The large, open room was bright and airy, decorated in light wood, ivory, and touches of gold. The furniture in the room was overstuffed and comfortable. The tabletops were marble and showcased vases running over with abundant floral arrangements. The space smelled like a mixture of palo santo and creamy vanilla. It was lovely. Along two of the four walls were clothing racks filled with cocktail dresses in every style and color.

Lyric rushed across the room toward us. “Hey.” She hugged Double first then embraced me. “Hey y’all.”

We returned her greeting.

“Okay. Let’s sit and talk about what we’re thinking for this ball.” She waved a hand in Double’s direction. “You know, we’re not the part of the family that goes to all these fancy galas and stuff. I don’t know much about it. He just told me that you needed a dress.”

We followed her to a corner of the room where she had it set up like a living room. Lyric took a seat in the armchair, while Double and I sat side by side on the loveseat across from her. His hand immediately went to my thigh. He did that so frequently that I didn’t even notice it was there until I followed the line of Lyric’s gaze. I smirked to myself.

“Okay,” she said with a grin. “I’m presuming you’ve worn a cocktail dress before, Tinsley.”

“I have.” I nodded my agreement.

“What style do you like? Sleeveless? Spaghetti straps? Strapless? Cap sleeves? It’s a spring event, so I’m guessing you don’t want long sleeves.”

“No, but no strapless, either.” I palmed my own breasts. “I would prefer to have these as supported as possible, so probably . . . cap sleeves. And I love a sweetheart neckline.”

“Okay.” She took down notes. “And what colors do you like? With your creamy, peachy undertones, I see you in sage or maybe even coral.”

I glanced over at my husband. “Double didn’t tell you that I’m supposed to wear white? Everybody’s wearing white. It’s called The Petals and Pearls Affair. The dress code is white, cream, or ivory.”