Exit Strategy by L. V. Lewis

and insists on dropping her off at home, citing work. Ever the gracious host, he offers her a drink from the limo bar.
“Were we going to your place, I might ask for water. But since that’s not a possibility, I’d like another gin and tonic, please,” she says.
He fixes her drink and grabs a bottle of water for himself.
He might have considered changing his mind and having her over had she not been so curious about the current state of his arrangement with Keisha.
“So, what happened to Kwanisha?”
“Her name is Keisha, Sara.”
“Well, I only met her one time. Besides, all their names tend to sound alike. You’ve heard one of them, you’ve heard them all.”
“You know, you’ve always been a snobbish bitch,” Tristan says as unflappable as you please, almost as if he’s paying her a compliment.
“We’re cut from the same cloth, baby. I don’t know why you thought things would work out between you and her.”
“Probably because Keisha is an infinitely better woman than you are.”
“If she’s so great, where the hell is she now? Why did you solicit me for a blow job in your club? Huh?”
“Because you’re always available with your goddamned mouth open, ready to be defiled like the humiliation whore you are.”
The water works come on cue as the words tumble out of his mouth. Tristan feels sorry for Sara. Inasmuch as she’s pissed him off royally, she had done him a favor tonight, so he wants to reciprocate in some small way.
“Listen, Sara. Let’s just call a truce, okay. What happened between us tonight was a mistake. I’m going to try to work things out with Keisha if I can because I’m not ready to let her go yet.”
Tristan feels more certain of this decision than any he’s made since Keisha left. Had he been more inclined to talk things out with her, rather than try to exert his sexual prowess, there might have been a different result in the beginning.
“You can’t tell me that little trollop from the south side is a better sub than me.”
Tristan knows Sara is trying to bait him into giving her another opportunity as his submissive with the name-calling, but he isn’t falling for it. Barely in control of his anger, he manages a tight smile. “Actually, she is, and calling her names doesn’t help your cause.”
“I know she wouldn’t let you do near as much as I’ve let you do to me.”
“That’s just it, Sara. I don’t want her to. We’re perfectly compatible the way she is. Our limits match almost identically.”
Sara tries sarcasm. “She sounds damn near vanilla to me.”
“You’re wrong. She’s taken to everything we’ve tried together without fail. Even in areas I’ve pushed her limits, she’s excelled. I was stupid to let her go.”
“No, you’re stupid to try and get her back. Mark my words; you’ll be in the market for a new sub in less than a year, and you’ll regret not taking me back.”
“I don’t think... I know I won’t. If she’ll have me back, I think I could be with Keisha indefinitely.”
“Okay. If you say so.” Sara puts down her glass just as the driver stops in front of her building. Tristan leans back in the seat, nursing his bottle of water.
“Good night, Sara,” he says. “Thanks for everything.”
She tries to kiss him, but he turns his head and takes another swallow of water at the precise moment she leans into him.
Her mouth pulls into a pout. “Good night, Tristan. Call me when you’re good and ready to stop slumming with Quiana.”
She slides out of the car and slams the door behind her before the driver could get the door open for her. Tristan doesn’t even have the driver wait for her to enter her building. He raps on the partition, and they speed off into the cold Chicago night.
     
~*~
     
Tristan knows he’s an oddity, milling around the foyer of the Morning Star Baptist Church, but he doesn’t care. If there’s anyone who’d know Keisha’s triggers, it’s Clara Lee Beale, and he wants to get to the bottom of them