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Nine days after the injury, most of my memory was back and I could go to work, but I still didn’t remember being bisexual. I remembered feeling jealous of beautiful women when Lorenzo complimented them, but I never wanted them for myself. To that, my husband explained that I was repressed, succumbing to society’s disapproval of same-gender attraction. He said I was hiding myself from their rejection. He said my amnesia enabled me to try being “normal,” but that I had always hated normal things, and that normal just wasn’t fun. Moreover, he said he had married me because of my liberal sexual views and would feel differently about me if I changed them now.
So my amnesia had the potential to ruin my marriage if I was going to be prudent. I wasn’t feeling sexually free at all, but I wanted to be myself, and would try to dig up the old me in order to save my marriage.
“I invited a friend over,” Lorenzo told me twelve days after the fall. We were in the bedroom getting ready to change out of our work clothes. “She’s in town for a conference. You know how every company loves to come to Atlanta to host events. Well, I met her at the food court in the CNN Center.”
My heart started a cadence at the thought of them flirting over lunch, but then I remembered that Lorenzo told me I wasn’t a jealous woman. But I was jealous.
“That sounds nice, honey,” I managed, throwing aside the panty hose I had just taken off. “What time will she be here?”
“Around eight. After her workshops are done. And don’t worry about cooking. I took care of the food.”
“I didn’t know you were so diligent.”
“I guess you only remember the bad,” he said, pulling me onto the bed, and onto my back, his dark-brown skin meshing with my light brown. “Do you remember how much you love having your pussy eaten?”
“Definitely,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted and fun. But I was more concerned about the visitor. How was I supposed to behave? Was she coming for him, me, or us both? Was I to be a part of his “date” or to remain unseen?
He pulled the crotch of my black panties to the side and covered my pussy lips with his thick lips, softly sucking my clit. My desire swelled as he tossed my legs open wider and moved his neck in circles like he was just warming up. He flicked my clit with his tongue, over and over again.
“Lorenzo,” I moaned, as he slurped my juices and probed his tongue into my pussy hole. His tongue darted into my ass. “Yes! Lick my asshole! Lick it good!”
My shirt was restrictive, and as I began to unbutton it, the doorbell rang. I lay frozen. My heart raced when Lorenzo got up. The outline of his humongous boner jutted out of his pants.
He didn’t bother to wipe my secretions from his face. A few seconds later, I heard talking in the living room and began to dress.
“Why so soon?” A voice called to me from the bedroom door. The carpet had concealed the sound of her footsteps. “I know I’m early but I have a good reason for it. I wanted to invite you all to an impromptu gathering tonight, so our other plans will have to wait.”
“But—”
“There will be food,” she said, as if that addressed all of my concerns.
She invited herself in and stood beside the bed. She was dressed in a white, button-down, collared shirt similar to mine, a tan knee-length skirt, coffee-colored stockings, and tan pumps with pointy toes. Her hair was pulled into a bun. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for my breast.
I drew back, breaking the gaze she had drawn me into. Her eyes never left mine as she put her hand out again. “Come here.”
I scooted closer, watching the door for Lorenzo, who was missing in action. She finished unbuttoning my shirt and removed my bra. Moving ever so slowly toward me, she placed her tongue in my mouth and kissed me gingerly at first; then with growing intensity, as if I was an old lover she missed.
She explored my body with her hands as we kissed, ran her hands across my shoulders and down my arms, fondled my orbs. I couldn’t remain indifferent. With each whirl of our tongues, I enjoyed more of her. I finally leaned in closer and pressed my body into hers.
She released the kiss and looked at me pensively. I felt sexy sitting before her, bare-breasted, with my back straight. She rested a gentle hand on my right breast before her left hand followed. Cupping both breasts, she moistened her lips and lowered her mouth to them. I inhaled deeply before her painted lips even made contact with my hardened nipples. I watched her lips cover my flesh, sucking the dark nubs like they contained the oxygen necessary to breathe. She bit my nipples lightly. The moisture in my pussy sprouted up like the water fountains in Centennial Olympic Park.
If this was why I had been bisexual, it certainly made sense.
Despite Lorenzo’s claim that I had always been bisexual, the feeling I received from this stunning woman was completely new. I wanted her to put her hands between my legs as she sucked my tits, but I wasn’t assertive enough to tell her so. Maybe I was bisexual. Maybe I secretly longed for a woman’s touch. The rigid material of her sleeve scrunched as I grazed my hand across it. Lorenzo returned, drying his face with a towel. The clothes he had on while we were fooling around had been readjusted.
“Are we ready to go?” he asked.
Under the woman’s spell, I found my voice and told him yes, although I really meant no. I had no idea where we were going, and I wanted to stay there, with her, feeling good.
• • •
A smooth, black, twelve-passenger limo was parked in the street outside our home, with a chauffeur in a black tuxedo standing beside the open door.
“Am I underdressed for the occasion?” I asked before stepping in.
“You’re fine, hon,” the woman replied.
“Then why’d you rent a limo?”
