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Chapter 7 – Michonne


"Ok, watch this, Michy! I can go off the high dive into the 12 feet." Beth exclaims, taking off in a little trot towards the diving board.


"You might want to keep an eye on her. She can barely swim, but she swears she's a mermaid, so…" Maggie warns, applying more sunscreen to protect her skin under the unrelenting blaze of the noonday sun.


"Can I use some of that, I completely forgot to grab some?" Sasha asks Maggie, reaching her hand out.


"Black people need sunscreen?" Maggie asks, tentatively placing the bottle in Sasha's outstretched hand.


"Yeah, girl! Not as much as white folks though. Melanin gives us more protection, but I don't want to burn, and I don't want to get all wrinkly, which the sun can do. I'm too cute for wrinkles." Sasha explains, slathering the white lotion over her arms and shoulders.


"I actually knew that. My brother Eugene told me that we don't burn as bad as regular white people, and that we get so tan because we're gypsies, which is technically a bad word, but if you're a gypsy I think you can use it." Maggie's friend Tara details, pointing to Sasha in a knowing manner. Sasha and I both look at each other, unsure of how to respond and unpack half of what Tara just said, so we just nod our heads in agreement, and continue applying sunscreen. Tara is a sweet girl, and Maggie's best friend. She doesn't live close to the farm, living closer to the center of town, so I have been picking her up to take her out and about with me and the girls as much as I can, since it seems that her only other friend is her older brother Eugene. I've also picked up on the fact that Tara is gay, which makes no difference to me, and totally warms my heart that Maggie also knows this, and it makes no difference to her as well.


It is this kind of unexpected, open arms acceptance of people that endears me to the Greenes, and let's me know that even in a small, fairly homogenous town like King County, you can still be an open minded person. Probably boils down to simple good home training, but honestly in my brief time here it seems to be hit or miss. Then of course there is always the uncomplicated choice to just not be a bigot, which doesn't seem that difficult of a choice to me, but again I've been surprised by how often folks choose not to trust what should be basic humanist principles and not be a total shit.


"Right. Ok, well you girls go on and swim, have fun." I encourage, wanting them to take full advantage of the pool, and the downtime from farm chores, orthodontist appointments, dance classes, and any other activity that comes along. Despite the fact that I would easily choose to spend as much time with Rick as I possibly could, I still enjoy spending time with the girls. Getting to know them, embracing them as my little sisters, has been such an accidental gift to me, one that I never knew I wanted, that I am happy to sacrifice as much of my time with Rick or my friends, to be with them as I realistically can.


They are just sweet girls, and not just Maggie and Beth, but Tara as well. There have been many times when I have sat with Maggie and Tara and fielded questions about boys, dating, even attempting to offer any tiny bits of advice I can think of to Tara as well, which unfortunately for her is limited. But I try, going so far as to ask my friend Aaron if he can think of any age appropriate sources I can direct her to for more information or asking questions. Hearing about and seeing the world through their young eyes, from their perspectives so different from my own, heavily colored by their own life experiences, reminds me so much of myself at that time. I may seem put together, and that I have all the answers, but I've become a protégé of the fake it till you make philosophy. I would consider myself smart and confident, but I have my own issues too, which for these girls seems to make me even more relatable to them. And honestly, them to me as well.


Maggie especially. I was also a child who had lost a parent, and I know how difficult it is to navigate those kinds of heavy, dark emotions. Despondency, sadness, melancholy. Losing my father created a black hole in my life, a vacuum that sucked out so much of my joy that I could hardly identify a reason to continue to choose life. While my mother was there to redirect that negative energy through therapy, love, and support, Maggie hasn't had nearly that much. Though she usually comes off as well adjusted and happy, Maggie has divulged to me how heartsick and dejected she felt when her mother died. How she felt like the person who she loved most in the world had abandoned her. At the same time, so many grownups were telling her that she had to be strong and mature, to help her father grieve and move on, and to help Beth since she was just a baby, but who was going to help her? The cheerless ache in her voice as Maggie describes that time of her life to me, makes me feel so much more connected with her than I ever thought I could with a little white girl from the country. Who knew that in the wreckage of death, my little sister and I could find such a strong life long bond?


On the other hand, Beth has experienced the loss of her mother in a totally different way because of how young she was. At two years old, her mother dying was just like the coming and going of anyone else, but what is more striking is that her mother's absence since then has created a significantly unique void for her. Rick has described for me a rather funny story of him trying to potty train, quite unsuccessfully, a two-year-old Beth while babysitting. It's a cute story but it highlights perfectly that something for her was missing. My little Beth is also keenly aware of everyone's comings and goings, as if at any moment someone might leave and never return. It breaks my heart, and once again, endears me even more to my new family, and makes me more aware of how attached to my mother and I they have all become so quickly.


What's more is that because of his previous involvement with the Greenes, Rick completely understands, encourages the connection, and doesn't make me feel like I'm neglecting him when I dedicate time to them. Which makes me wonder if he could be more perfect?


"So, now that the kiddies are away, you can tell me all about this messy little love triangle you have going on. Spill, bitch."


"There is no love triangle, Sasha. I broke up with Mike and now I'm with Rick, and we're just seeing where it goes." I shrug, trying to dismiss the drama from two weeks ago, and training my eyes across the pool to the deep end to watch out for Beth's high dive act. Though to be fair, it really was quite intense. Everything from Rick's surprise appearance in my mother's kitchen, our liaison in the study, him and Mike coming face to face again, to me finally letting Mike know we were through. I have been lax to talk too much about it, preferring to put it behind me, but I know Sasha is only going to let that ride for so long.


"I'm not buying that, Michy. Rick looked like he was literally going to kill Mike, and I know Mike, he was pissed as hell. He may be the most boring man alive, but I know he didn't just let you break up with him and let you go so easy. Spill the damn beans, girl!"


Sighing, accepting that I am going to have to share something with her to satisfy her nosy self, I explain some of what has happened. "It was hella awkward because even though Mike didn't say anything until after the party, he was extra touchy feely all night, which isn't really like him. But, you know, with his frat brothers around he does act a little more ok with PDA. After the party he took me back to his apartment, and tried to be…intimate. I couldn't… like the feel of his hands on me, him trying to kiss me…it just all felt so wrong that I'm not even sure how I used to enjoy it so much. I let him kiss me one good time, just to see if maybe there was still a spark for him, something. Girl, it was dead. The kitty didn't purr, nothing. On the other hand, if Rick even looks at me the right way, the damn kitty is drowning!"


"Bitch, what?! Ok, wait, back up. You went to his apartment, and you let dry ass Mike kiss you that night? I mean, it was already kinda jacked that you went out with him. And I get it, you promised and already had the dress, but going to his place? Kissing? I hope to god you didn't tell Rick about that." Shaking her head Sasha looks at me with a look of censure in her eyes.


"Real talk, my emotions were all over the place, Sasha. Rick makes me feel crazy, like I'm in heat and can barely control myself or something. This shit can't be normal. So, I just needed to see if it was a thing with me, or if it is just this chemistry with Rick. I mean, what if I let all that time and history with Mike go to chase after some fake BS with Rick? It could all just be a total fluke, right?" Shaking my head at how foolish I was to put myself in such a precarious position, I continue. "I don't think it is though. It's Rick. Those lips, those eyes…"


"Dude does have some killer blues right?" Sasha agrees, nodding her head and pointing to me in agreement. "So, what did Mike say when you told him?"


"He was pissed. Said he knew something was up, but thought I was smarter than to let some white boy get me turned inside out. That I was throwing away my future to let Rick experiment. He was just real nasty and broke up about it. Tried to kiss me again, I wouldn't let him and tried to leave. Mike grabbed my arm to try and stop me from leaving, but I slapped him. Shit just got out of hand real quick. When I slapped him he kind of snapped out of it though, apologized. Told me to go get my 'something new' but when I was done letting Rick make a fool out of me he would be there to pick up the pieces because he and I are the same. I took an Uber home, and that was that. I haven't talked to him since, but he did text the next day to apologize."


Remembering the theatrics of that night, my heart does hurt a little for Mike. We have been friends, then a couple, then lovers for so long, our history together spans the majority of my life. Given that I really hated hurting him, telling him that what we share was no longer what I wanted, that he was no longer the man for me. Thinking on it now, that is some life altering stuff right there.


Flashes of that night often run through my mind, when I'm alone, no longer swaddled in Rick's consuming and cloistered affection. I can see it. Pain radiating across Mike's face when I told him I wanted to break up. Realization when he put the puzzle together and figured out that it's Rick who is taking his place. The harsh break in his deep voice when he asked about the smudge of my lipstick, Rick's lipstick stained lips and cheek, how unresponsive I have been towards him all night. Lashing out, transferring his rueful agony into aggressive anger, his words became much more forceful and antagonizing, accusing me of a racially tinged level of stupidity that I did not believe he would sink to.


Shame and guilt at being the cause for his distress, for him acting this way led me to allow the kiss to happen, coupled with a last minute doubt about regarding letting Mike go. We did have common goals, still do. We do have history, can't change that. Mike's argumentative diatribe against Rick, citing my vulnerable and naïve stupidity, did give me pause to question this thing with Rick. Again. So, when Mike became apologetic at his own hurtful words, and reached for me, to soothe our shared hurt with a kiss, which I used to emphatically enjoy, I gave in. As usual, Mike wrapped his long, strong arms around me, and pressed his muscled body to mine. In his embrace, warm and familiar, I wondered if I might once again identify with this place, this man, as my home. But no. Instead it felt foreign and alien to me, my body reacting adversely to his amorous affection. His kiss wasn't deep enough, wet enough, consuming enough. There was no kindling of fire in my belly, no weakening of my knees, or arousal in my core. Nothing but a sick discontent spreading like a contagion throughout my body.


At that I pushed away from him, and asked him to take me home. He refused, I tried to leave, and he summarily wrenched at my arm, in a strikingly rough manner, and I slapped him as hard as possible, with everything I could muster. Later that night, under the stark bright lights of my bathroom at home, I discovered the bruising reminder of Mike's words and actions, a darker hue than my already deep blackberry skin.


"Did you tell Rick, about how Mike reacted? Cause we might need Ty and my brothers to pay Mikey a visit."


"No. It's good. It's done. I think he felt a little ashamed when I slapped him. And he did text an apology. I just want to move on." I wave, wanting to release the negative energy from that encounter, and remembering how thankful I was that it was pitch black that night Rick came to pick me up. That the lighting in his apartment cloaked us in a sepia shade instead of a brighter hue that might reveal the night's activities.


"Well you just let me know. Damn he's an asshole. Let's be honest, Michy, Mike hasn't been serving up that juice for awhile now. He's just not the business, at all. Now Rick Grimes? That white boy has some serious swag, I wasn't ready!" Sasha laughs, snapping her fingers for emphasis. "And that cousin of yours, Shane? Yeah, he could get it."


"What? Really?"


"Girl, yes."


"Ah, so that's why you've been hanging out in the sticks with me so much. You trying to get some of that country boy loving, Sasha?" I tease, figuring out Sasha's motives, and thankful for the added dose of frivolity to our conversation, and the direction happily veering from my own romantic dalliances.


"I'm not looking for a husband or a boyfriend, but a little summer fling with him wouldn't hurt. You know me, Michy, I'm too young to fall in love or anything." She scrunches her face in distaste at the thought.


"If you say so."


"Wait! You in love, Michy? Tell the truth, cause you've been sporting a goofy grin since OG Rick Grimes showed up, and I'm wondering if it's more than the sex, or some ridiculous 'plan'." She says, throwing up her two fingers on each hand to denote quotations around the word plan, in reference to Mike's oft referred to plan for our lives. Sasha removes her sunglasses and sits up in her chair, no longer lounging. Steadily focusing on my eyes, studying my smile, she seems to come to her own conclusion. "Bitch!"


"I'm not in love, Sasha! You know I don't even believe in that mess. But, I'm in some serious like with Rick. It's more than swag, it's this glowy, glittery, gooey, thing!"


"Yeah, that's just an orgasm. I know ol dry ass Mike wasn't putting in work to give you one, but you get used to it."


"I don't know. It's just different being with him. It's not just the amazing sex, cause that shit is amazing. Like turning me out, nasty, freaky, trying some shit, sex. It's also something I can't describe, ya know?"


"No I don't."


"Sometimes he will look at me like I am the center of his world. And he'll say things like, nothing else matters to him but me. Or, he'll focus those blue eyes on me, and hot damn he'll tell me that I'm the best thing to ever happen to him. Who says stuff like that in real life?"


"Girl… You may as well pick out the dress and reserve the church. Mark it down that I said it! And I better be the maid of honor."


"Shut up, Sasha!" I playfully slap at her arm, internally wondering if there is any truth to her words. I've never loved anyone who wasn't my family, and I was never in love with Mike. So, truthfully, how would I know if I was falling in love with Rick?


"Anyway, let's talk birthday prep. We've got two weeks, and from what Ty says everything is a go. What are you going to wear? I need like a really cute bikini, cuter than the one I have on, which is gonna be tough. And, I need a cuter cover up, dress kinda thing. Oh! And maybe get my hair braided or something. I just need a change." Speaking animatedly as we talk about two of Sasha's favorite things, partying and fashion, she's moving her hands around to emphasize her words.


"Right! I was thinking of something different for my hair too. I don't know. I've been growing my hair for so long, never had a real haircut. Maybe it's time?" I wonder aloud, running my hands through my now frizzy blow out. Pulling out a hair band, I pull it up into a bun, wanting to take a dip in the pool soon, but definitely not wanting to get it wet and let all these white folks spazz out as it kinks back up. Going native right now is definitely not an option.


"Don't I know you?"


"Me?" I ask, leaning up to sit straight on my lounger, I remove my sunglasses, trying to make sense of who is speaking to me. Slow realization creeps up on me, jogging my memory, and I realize it's Lori and her friend Andrea. Great. "Yes. We've met." I eek out, cringing at having to interact with this chick at all. I have Maggie, Beth, and Tara with me, I don't need any drama. But, if it happens I also have Sasha with me, so I'm completely unbothered.


"Oh yeah, you're Shane's friend. I wouldn't expect to see you at a pool. I didn't know black people knew how to swim." She offers on a haughty laugh, crossing her arms over her non-existent chest.


Though too skinny in my opinion, I can see why a guy like Rick would have gone for a girl like Lori. She's thin in a way that it seems white men like, her hair is a dark chestnut, and very long, almost at her waist, with soft waves that frame her face. Not busty, and not really curvy at all, she and I couldn't be more different. And for a moment, that gives me pause. But dismissing any impending doubts about myself or Rick, I immediately check to my right to see how Sasha is handling this first time introduction to Lori. My cousin doesn't necessarily have a temper; she just doesn't take any shit. And I'm the same way. Sasha hasn't moved though, but she is at attention, pretty much ready for anything.


"Shut up, Lori." Her friend Andrea admonishes her, and quickly diverts the conversation to something less…racist. "Hey I haven't seen Shane recently, what's he been up to?" She asks, holding her hand over her eyes to protect them from the sun as she squints and awaits an answer. At her question, Sasha finally does make a slight movement to turn her body towards Andrea, giving her a head to toe once over. I assume she deems her no competition because she easily reclines back on her lounger, completely disinterested.


"I don't know, working I guess." I reply, not really offering any actual information on Shane's whereabouts. This chick Andrea isn't as bad as Lori, but the fact that she hangs with her doesn't bode well for my opinion of her. Actually, again I have to school my thoughts because, well Rick was with Lori for a good amount of time. Pesky and persistent, those doubts are always waiting, eager to imbed themselves in my consciousness, until that warm glow he stirs in me rears its head and swats it away.


"Well, tell your cousin to call me, ok? I'm Andrea, just in case you forgot."


"He's not her real cousin, Andrea. I could just imagine Shane's granddad rolling over in his grave at the thought." Lori smirks, tilting her head in a smug way, making eye contact with me.


"What's that supposed to mean?" Sasha asks, now inserting herself in the downward spiraling conversation.


"Shane's daddy, Dale Walsh might be all progressive and shit, but his granddad was old southern. There's no way he would be ok with the Walsh family getting…darker. Only those liberal Greenes would do something like that and think it's ok."


"Obviously the Grimes are ok with it too. So why don't you run along now, confederate Barbie." Sasha shoos her away, effectively dismissing her from the conversation.


"I take it you haven't met Mrs. Grimes yet then? Nah, Rick knows better. This infatuation won't last long." Dropping this little snarky bomb, Lori and Andrea walk away, leaving behind a load of unanswered questions.


"What the hell? Who is that?" Sasha snarls, death staring at Lori's departing frame.


"Rick's ex. The one from the bar, remember?" Feeling a bit of anxiety at her words seeping in, I also watch her and Andrea walk away.


"Ew. I expected better of him. Oh well, those who know better, do better. You are definitely better for him. Don't let her bother you. Keep your shit together, ok, Michy?" Reaching her hand out to pat me on the knee, she must be sensing that Lori's words have disturbed me to some degree.


"I'm not worried. And my shit never stopped being together." I unconvincingly utter. Laying back on my lounger, I let my imagination run a little wild, allowing it to conjure all manner of questions, issues, possibilities, and scenarios regarding Lori's comments. Breaking through my rapidly darkening thoughts, I hear a loud screeching scream, and in a start I'm up from my lounger, looking for Maggie and Beth.


Finding them huddled with Tara, doubled over in laughter, they are bearing the brunt of a curse filled rant from Lori.


"Those brats pushed me in the pool on purpose! You saw them didn't you, Andrea?"


"I wasn't looking. I missed it." Andrea shrugs, walking away from Lori's floundering form, splashing and slapping at the shallow water.




"Alright, girls, why did you guys push Lori in the pool?" I ask, making eye contact with Maggie in the rearview mirror of my Jeep, as we head towards home.


"Did she say something mean to you guys or something?" Sasha adds on, turning to survey the little sun reddened faces of my little sisters and their friend.


"No. But she's always saying something mean to someone. I heard her being nasty to you, Michy. She can't be that way to my sister. Remember when she called your brother a freak, Tara?" Maggie huffs, crossing her arms across her chest in a defensive stance.


"Yeah. Eugene didn't take it so bad, but she's pretty much a constant bitch to everyone but Rick, Shane, and Andrea." Tara confirms, absently biting at her nails as if she is already bored with talking about Lori.


"Really?" Sasha nudges me with her elbow, and raises her eyebrows at that revelation.


"I don't want her to make you mad and you wanna leave." Beth sadly comments on a sniffle, her big blues glistening with unshed tears.


"Hey, listen, I'm not going anywhere, ok? I do have to go back to school next month, but my home is still with you guys. We're family now, you can't get rid of me." I promise, hot anger rising in me at the thought of Lori causing any distress in these already sensitive girls.


"Right! No skinny witch is gonna send my cousin anywhere." Sasha confirms, confidently turning back to the front of the Jeep. "Right?" She turns to me on a defiant smile, looking for confirmation.


"Right!" I add, quickly swiveling my head around to give the girls a reassuring smile.




"Hey, Mom, what are you in here doing?"


"Nothing much, catching up on some reading." My mother answers. Dressed in a silky nightgown, she's sitting up in bed with her iPad across her lap.


"Where's Hershel?" Looking around the room I take note of the changes that my mother has already made to her and Hershel's bedroom in the short time that we have been here. She's already replaced the old furniture, taken down the wallpaper, and put up some new window treatments. It's got a more contemporary southern look that is all Mona, mixing light lavender, gray, and white colors, with heavy rustic wood furniture, and elegant glass lamps, and a classy chandelier ceiling fan that only she would be able to even find.


"Poker. He left out about an hour or so ago. What are you up to, Michy?" Removing her reading glasses and patting the bed next to her, my mother invites me further into her room to join her.


Accepting her offer, I lay across the foot of the bed, resting my head on her ankles. "Nothing much either. The girls and I just got back from swimming, and they are taking their showers. Sasha just left to head back to the city, and I'm just hanging before I go out with Rick later."


"Ah, Rick. He is impressive. I can see why you like him."


"Yeah?"


"Oh yeah. Tall, smart, handsome, kind. Maybe a little older than I expected for you, but I completely get the attraction between the two of you. Which leads me to assume that there will be no more of the drama from before with Mike. Right?" Tilting her head to the side, she is staring directly down at me, giving me the look that lets me know she is more aware of what has been going on than I thought.


"I broke up with Mike. I'm with Rick now. I like him." Keeping it brief I answer my mother's question without giving up too much detail.


"You know, Mike's father was your father's fraternity brother, a close friend. And because they were close we may have pushed you two together, creating something that might not have been as organic of a relationship as it should have been. Sometimes we overlooked how much of a spoiled shit he could be, or how boring and singularly focused he was, because at the end of the day your daddy and I thought he was a good steady bet for a husband for you. A solid young man that would take care of our baby girl. I'm sorry for that.


"But, I still hope that when you broke up with him you handled your business like a woman, not like a girl. I hope that you were respectful of his feelings, because even though you're all about Rick now, there was a time when you were sure that Mike was your present and your future. It's perfectly fine to change your mind, and Mike has to deal with that like a man. And hey, if you meeting Rick and falling for him is some serendipitous event, some real magic, then I certainly get it, Michy. I do, you know I do."


"It kind of is. At least I think it is. Rick's convinced it is, though I had my doubts for a while."


"That's a great feeling right? But, I don't want you to be messy about it, Michonne. I know what happened with both of them being here wasn't your fault entirely, but I get the distinct impression that Rick was not aware that you were going on a date with Mike, and Mike was clearly none the wiser about Rick. Don't be careless with others' feelings, sweetie, ok? I could see that Rick was just about ready to explode. Face all red, with anger and your lipstick. Mike was so confused, but could sense something was up. It's just not the way to handle things, honey. And definitely not in front of your little sisters."


"I'm sorry, Mom. Seriously, I did not intend for any of that to happen. I completely forgot about the Kappa thing with Mike. We hadn't even spoken for days, so it didn't cross my mind until he called to confirm that morning, and you know how serious he is about his fraternity stuff. So Sasha and I had to rush out and pickup the dress I ordered months ago. It was a mess. It was even worse when I broke up with him that night."


"I could see that. Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot, caught off guard like that." She lightly offers, her voice soft but with a hint of scrutiny.


"I know." Shaking my head, I cringe at the thought of being on the receiving end of that kind of situation. Except instead of with Mike, with Rick giving me the boot. The idea of it blooms a deep seated panic in my chest. But also not wanting my mother to think poorly of me, I attempt to offer more clarity. "I did kind of get caught up. I didn't want Rick to get mad about me keeping a promise to Mike, and I hated hurting Mike, but I just don't feel the same about him anymore."


"Michy, you're a woman now, and I understand. As your mother I am just trying to help guide you, not scold you or make choices for you. In my heart I just want you to be careful. With yourself and others. Don't let the ferocity of the emotions you are suddenly experiencing for Rick get things twisted. Be honest with these guys, it's the only way. Own that shit, honey. If you want to be respected as a grown woman, you have to act like one." Tossing her long hair over her shoulder with a little Mona sass, her lips are pursed and her eyes are laser focused on my own, letting me know she means what she says.


"Yes, ma'am. And that's exactly it though, Mama. Sometimes, when I'm with Rick, it's like nothing I have ever felt or experienced, it's totally unreal, Mom. The way he treats me is like I am this grown up, free spirited, special, womanly goddess or something. Like I have this power over him, and it makes me feel strong, and sexy. That's not wrong is it, to want that…power? Mike never made me feel like that. He always had to be in charge, or he always had to be right. When it came to sex, he actually made me feel dirty sometimes for wanting to try…stuff."


"Grown woman talk, Mama to Michy, it's more than fair to want to explore and enjoy this newfound thing with Rick. He's a little older than you are, and has more experience, but I think young Mr. Grimes sees exactly all of that in you, sweetheart. Sexual exploration and freedom is as much a woman's right as it is a man's. Ya know, some men need to be in charge of their woman in order to feel important, but some men don't need that, they just want to be with you, share that something special with you, feel the heat of that womanly power within you." She bounces her shoulders, and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Come on, you know what I'm talking about, don't be shy now."


"Mama! Oh my god!" I plant my face in my palm in embarrassment. Internally I know exactly what she's talking about. And after being with Rick, I knew sex with him was a completely different sexual experience than the intimate encounters I had with Mike. They didn't even compare. Mike was an excellent kisser, and his hugs were like being on a cloud. But, when it came to sex, it was what I now know to be fairly plain. It consisted of mostly rote missionary sex, a few times in doggystyle, but most often not. Mike had his preferences and that was pretty much what we did, with him letting me know that my suggestions were either not realistic or were too deviant for the woman who would be his wife.


On the other hand, Rick seems to relish in the unpredictability of sexual fulfillment. Whatever gets each of us off is fine by him. He doesn't mind me being on top, or that I want to taste or feel his cum, or even that I begged for him to fuck me harder. He sees to love the taste of my pussy, smothering his own face in between my thighs, slurping and swallowing on a delighted hum. All of it arouses him, and that fact makes my desire, my sexual appetite for him grow tenfold.


"Whatever, Michy. Don't forget your mama is also a newlywed. I know what happens between a woman and a man in the bedroom."


"Ok, change of subject. I can't continue this conversation with you. Just…ugh!" Remembering that I am laying on her and Hershel's bed, I cringe, and on a fake shiver, I redirect our conversation. "Hey, um. I have another question, that's kinda off topic."


"Shoot, what you got?"


"What do you know about Rick's family? Like has Hershel ever said anything about them to you, since I've been dating Rick?" Shyly I ask the question that will drop me back onto a minefield of issues that I have been going over in my head since my encounter with Lori earlier today.


"Hm. Rance and Ellen Grimes. I've obviously met Rance, that's Hershel's best buddy. And I've met Ellen a few times. Once we had dinner with them while Hershel and I were dating, maybe a time or two in passing after that. Ellen did not attend our wedding if that tells you anything. Rance was over a couple of days ago. Anyway, he hasn't said much of anything about them to me, about you. Are you asking for a specific reason, honey?"


"I don't know honestly. Did you ever feel like they didn't like you because you were black? Like do you think based on when you met them, that they wouldn't be ok with me being with Rick? Is that why his mother didn't come to the wedding?"


"Oh. Ok. Did Ellen say something to you? Let me know, Michonne, because I will handle it if she did." In her no nonsense tone, my mother lets it be known that she knows more about Ellen Grimes than she is letting on.


"What do you know about her, Mom? This chick earlier was all, 'you must not have met her yet', like she's the boogeyman or something. It's making me think Rick has a reason for not introducing me to his parents yet."


Sighing, my mother looks to the ceiling as though she is preparing for a difficult conversation. "Listen, you know we live in the south. And now we live in a small, rural piece of the south. With that said, you know that there are people who are not happy that couples like Hershel and I, or you and Rick exist. That's a fact I cannot change. And, Rick's mother might be one of those people. The few times she and I met she was neither friendly nor personable, so if she ever makes you uncomfortable or wants to pop off at the mouth, you let me know. I will not stand for her disrespecting my daughter. It's not going to happen."


"Did you say 'pop off at the mouth'? Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?" My raucous laughter at my mother's word usage adds a moment of levity to the conversation.


"Girl, you know I'm from the SWATs. That woman doesn't want any drama with me. Anyway, I'm sure Rick will introduce you to his parents soon enough. Maybe he just wants to take his time getting to know you first. Don't be in a rush. From what I remember his mother wasn't anything impressive, though his father Rance is a handsome man, looks a lot like his son. And funny! That man has a devil may care way about him that is really something. I see where his son gets it."




"I don't understand this show. If Olivia loves the president so much, why doesn't she want to be with him? Didn't you say he divorced his wife for her?" Rick asks. We are seated on his bed, and I'm leaning back in between his bare legs, bent at the knee, as he is propped up against the headboard. Shirtless, and in just his boxers, the heat of his chest warms my back through his uniform shirt that I've taken to wearing. Naked from the waist down, the hair on his arms, and legs tickles against my own smooth and hairless skin.


When Rick got off work, I met him here at his apartment, as has become our routine, and after a meal of takeout Chinese food, we're now watching Scandal. I'm attempting to get him caught up and explain some of the relationship drama between Fitz and Olivia, but it's hard to explain the ups and downs of 6 seasons to someone who has never even heard of the show.


"Well, it's complicated."


"No, it's not. Either she loves him or she doesn't. Either she wants to be with him or she doesn't. If you love someone, you don't hurt them, then still claim to love them. Love doesn't hurt. It's patient and kind. Haven't you ever read Corinthians, woman?" He questions, giving me a little pinch on my side, then closing his solid arms securely around my shoulders, hugging me closer to him.


"Yeah, but, sometimes it is painful and complicated too. Like maybe she feels like his family would disapprove. Or like they are too different for their relationship to actually last. Who knows?" I shrug, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Thankful that he's behind me and can't easily sniff out the questioning vulnerability thinly veiled in my eyes.


"Are we talking about Fitz and Olivia, or Rick and Michonne?" Lowering his lips close to my ear, I close my eyes to the warm sensation of his breath caressing my sensitive skin.


Not wanting him to knock me off course with his affections, I gather as much nerve as I can, and continue. "Both?" Admitting to transferring this into a real life conversation, instead of a fictional, hypothetical one, I turn to him, giving him a sideways glance. "I've been thinking. How come I haven't met your parents yet? Do you think they won't like me? It's been a month now, and I spend the night here at least twice a week. Your parents live like less than 100 yards away, and yet, nothing. Does that mean something I should be worried about or what? Cause if it does you can just say so. My feelings won't be hurt. I will just have an idea of about how far this thing can realistically go. And, hey, it could just be a summer fling for you, which is fine with me. If you're not into another long term thing ya know? I remember you were with that other chick a long time, so you might not want to get into something like that again now…or if at all. I don't know if it's a big deal for you, me meeting your parents, so I don't want to pressure you. It's nothing. Nevermind." Nervously rambling, on and on, I finally stop myself, realizing that with my verbal diarrhea I have thrown out all kinds of feelings and assumptions that I'm both scared and fearful of discussing, of finding out the truth behind them. Given that other chick's cloaked comment about his mother, and my own mother's feedback, my confidence about this subject is falling fast.


"Whoa. Hey, Michonne, what is this about?" Rick grasps me gently around the waist, turning me to him slowly. Now on my knees before him, my arms limply at my sides, we're making full eye contact and a deep frown is sullying his masculine beauty. His eyes, now colored an uneasy and stormy blue, are scanning my face, searching for the source of my discomfort. "Do you want to meet my parents? Is that important to you?"


"No! It's whatever, Rick. Forget all that rambling, it's stupid." I try to dismiss. Now seeing the concern on his face, darkening with each of his steadily paced words in response to my spastically uttered ones, I realize that I might not be ready to tackle this subject just yet. And that's a surprising revelation for me. Since going through therapy after my father's death, I have learned to never shy away from the tough stuff. Even if it hurts. Even if my mind tricks me into thinking my heart can't handle it, I have to remember that my soul knows better. I'm made of the toughest stuff, and I can handle anything. But with Rick? My heart and my soul always feel like they are comprised of the sweetest, stickiest, softest stuff. He makes me feel so light and airy, but also vulnerable and constantly near bursting with the fullness from the gift of his affectionate words, soft warm kisses, strong hugs, and sturdy hands.


"It's not stupid to me if it matters to you." Exhaling slowly, Rick searches my face again, then gives me a sad, apologetic smile. "I get it. I'm sorry for making you think that I'm not serious about you, or that you are some secret or something. I promise it was just a stupid oversight on my part. I've never had a woman important enough to me that I wanted her to meet my parents. Lor-"


"Ah! I don't want to hear her name on your lips anymore." I interrupt, placing my finger over his soft lips to stop him from saying that awful chick's name.


Chuckling at me using his own words against him, Rick drops his head amusedly, then grins up at me. "Fair enough. That girl was always around; from the time I was a kid. So there were not any introductions to be made with my parents. Hell, they knew her before I did. But, now, with you and me, it's something I need to take care of, and I appreciate you communicating with me to let me know it. You can always be honest with me, and trust, I'll take care of it. I've been so wrapped up in having you to myself, but again, baby, I'm sorry. Forgive me?" Pouting, Rick adorably pushes out his rosy bottom lip in a perfect pucker, and blinks slowly so that his lengthy eyelashes cause a dramatic sweep of his cheeks.


To sway and speed up my forgiveness, Rick reaches towards me, and his long fingers begin to studiously unbutton his shirt that hangs oversized on my petite frame. Working away at the few buttons that are fastened his voice takes on a deeper, arousal tinged tenor. "Michonne, whether you know it or not, baby, you are my future. How could I be ashamed of that? Of such a stunning, intelligent woman. Hm?"


Watching him through half lidded eyes that are now drooping with anticipatory lust, I question his certainty. "How do you know that, Rick? That I'm your future? We've only been together like a month. That's crazy!" I toss my head back in exasperation, but also to hide the pleased smile pulling my lips into a satisfied grin.


"I know that because I'd always rather be with you, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, instead of being anywhere else. Because I could listen to you talk about anything, from politics to some dramatic show that I don't even understand. Because you are absolutely the smartest person I've ever met, and despite you being younger than me, I learn something from you everyday. You're confident, kind, unselfish, and sexy as fuck. I love to hear you say my name, to watch it fall off these beautiful full lips…" Rick runs his large hand over my hair, stopping at the nape to grasp a hand full. Lightly tugging my head back, he grazes his fingers across my lips with his other hand as his thoughts trail off.


"Rick…"


"Just...like that." Licking his lips, he closes his eyes for a moment, and tilting his head, releases a satisfied sigh. "And because, I feel you here, in my soul." Calmly and deliberately he drags his hand from my lips, and over my throat, to the space between my naked breasts, exposed through his unbuttoned shirt, now loosely slipping down my arms and shoulders. Resting his hand there atop my heaving chest, he pulls me closer to him with the hand still soundly clutching my hair. Crushing me to his chest, abrading my nipples with the fine tickle of his chest hair, on a hushed sigh over my lips he admits in the deepest southern twang, "It's an indescribable happiness, Michonne. I have no future without you and that happiness in it. It's not possible."


Trembling from the intensity of his quiet declaration, of the undelivered kiss promised in the breathy whisper dancing across my lips, I'm under his spell. Desire is flushing through me, demanding immediate satisfaction. Lingering in each other's space, tension crackling like electricity between us, I straddle his hips, with my knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. The pads of his fingers stroke over my shoulders, pushing the shirt to finally drop and pool around my trim waist.


"You're not worried about your parents liking me?"


"No. I like you, that's what matters."


"You do?" I ask, though I already know the answer. I like to hear him say it. Hear his deep voice utter the words.


"Oh you know I do." He mischievously grins. Sitting on his lap, my hands resting on his abdomen, he tilts his head a bit, and commands me to act. "Touch yourself, pretty girl. Do it like your hands are mine. Make yourself feel good."


"I don't know how." I shyly confess, the mere thought of touching myself for him casting a burnished rosy undertone to glow through my dark skin.


"Yes you do. Show me how you want me to touch you." He growls on a deeply affected sigh. Sensing my hesitance, he leans back, no longer huddled against my breasts. "Let me show you." Shoving down is boxers, Rick grabs a hold of his cock. Thick and veiny, its length and girth is more than his hand can contain. My eyes admire the beauty of it, nestled in a thatch of thick dark pubic hair, with his balls heavily cushioned beneath. Rick is stroking himself from the base to the leaking tip, back and forth, at a measured pace. With his lips slightly apart, a profound grunt and moan emit from somewhere deep in his diaphragm, to shatter the quiet eroticism of this moment.


Spurred to action by his demonstration, and his resultant verbal signs of self-inflicted pleasure, I take a hold of my breast with one hand, and tentatively dip my fingers into the petals of my flesh with the other. Kneading and massaging my most erogenous zones is not only threatening to send me over into the abyss of decadent gratification, but it's also aroused Rick to such heights that he can no longer tend to himself.


"Oh god, Rick, I'm getting so wet..." I moan, the soft silky touch of my own fingers sliding against my womanhood and nipples heightening my pleasure.


"You're going to make me cum before I can get inside of you."


"Not yet." I plead. "I want it."


"I know you do. Look at you, pretty girl. Is that how you like to be touched?"


"Yes."


"Your breasts are amazing. Can I taste?"


"Yes."


Parting his lips, he licks his wet tongue out, laving and sucking at my stiff nipples. "Gotdamn, baby, I can't wait any longer. Sit on my dick, Michonne, can you do that?"


"Yes." It's the only word I can fix my lips to say, because Rick's words and my own hands have created a debilitating thrill of tension in my core, that threatens to spill down my thighs and on to his lap.


"Condom?" He asks, checking for my preference. When we began sleeping together last month I made an appointment with my OBGYN and got a refill of my birth control pills, and though I have never had sex without a condom until now, I had a series of STD screenings completed as well. Following suit, Rick did the same, and with matching negative test results, we have forgone condoms ever since. Since I religiously take my pill, I have, maybe stupidly, not wanted the feel of latex between us. While Rick has diligently inquired more times than not since our first few times without, I can't imagine going back to the artificial intimacy that so heavily colored sex with Mike. No, I crave the wet slide of his cock against my walls, and perhaps I will foolishly one day find the pill to be insufficient, but right now, something inside of me tells me that between Rick and I, this is right.


"No." I shake my head. Removing my hands from my body, I steady myself using his shoulders. Raising up on my thighs, I ease my pussy down slowly, and swallow the fullness of his cock. Needing to catch my breath from the sudden and complete way he engorges my canal, I take a moment to swallow my lust and focus. Impatient, Rick places his hands at my waist, and begins to lift my body, encouraging me to move. Still not entirely confident in my own sexual prowess and ability, I hesitantly begin to grind up and down. "That's it. You feel amazing, baby. Bounce a little harder, take what you need, pretty girl."


"Rick, you feel so good."


"Mmmmm...shit, Michonne." He sighs, blowing out a long breath, he continues to instruct my hips, teaching me to bounce and pound down on his lap at the right rhythm to please us both. Rolling his hands around to my ass, he greedily grabs a hold of my cheeks, smashing and spreading them apart as he begins a hard thrust from beneath, forcefully meeting each of my downward strikes. "Come here." He commands, once again bringing my upper body flush against his.


Taking control, I hungrily latch my lips on to his, sucking and licking his pink tinted lips, softly biting the plumpness of his bottom lip between my teeth. Increasing the speed of my bounce, my bucking is causing the headboard to bang out a steady rhythm against the wall. I'm racing to my climax, sensing its delicious buzz within reach. With a carnal compulsion for Rick to release the arousal from his orgasm simultaneously with my own, I twist my head to nuzzle the responsive skin of his neck. Vigorously licking and sucking until he's clutching and hugging me to him, Rick explodes inside of me on a long, husky growl laced with my name, at the same time that I stiffen and drown deep in the murky fog of my climax.


Moments of silence peacefully crawl by, the hum of the late evening news on the television the only sound heard above our labored breaths. Wearily sprawled over Rick's chest, I'm listlessly losing the fight against sleep, but offer a few simple words to add a sense of finality to our discussion about meeting his parents. "I forgive you."


"Hm. Well…" I hear the faintest of words mumbled from his lips in response. "I love you."












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