The Cheating Curve Read Online Free PDF

criticized. And beauty by American standards, though admittedly broader than, say, in her mother’s day, was still too reflective of the European aesthetic for Lang’s politics.
    Lang thought the fashion and beauty industries were still too subjective and, yes, still racist. She’d counted on one hand the number of black models on the catwalk of last season’s fashion shows. And magazine covers? Damn near nonexistent if you weren’t an A-list celebrity. And while she currently rocked an auburn curly weave by choice and convenience, she had no intention of ever chemically altering the natural texture of her healthy, coarse dark brown hair that fell well past her shoulder blades when blown straight.
    “So what’s this young boy’s name?” Aminah asked more out of annoyance than curiosity as she stirred raw sugar into her coffee.
    “Dante,” Lang said, relieved to finally share it with her best friend.
    “And you haven’t had sex with him yet?”
    “Not exactly.”
    Aminah looked at Lang quizzically.
    “Hold up,” Lang said, putting up her hands in protest. “I’m not saying we haven’t done things, but we haven’t had actual intercourse yet.”
    “Done things like what? You mean oral sex?”
    “Well, yeah, we’ve given each other head,” Lang admitted. “But it’s not just physical with him, Aminah. It’s more mental. He’s gotten inside my mind sexually. He’s invaded a space Sean has no idea even exists.” Lang looked visibly starry-eyed as she spoke of her lover. She was definitely smitten, and there was no hiding that.
    “Let me get this straight. After three months of seeing pretty boy, you’re having only mind sex and head with him?” Aminah asked skeptically.
    “No, that’s not just it, Minah. Damn.”
    “Well, do you want to have physical sex with him?” Aminah asked, genuinely confused.
    “Of course, of course, what kind of question is that? You’re not getting this, are you?”
    “Well, not exactly, Lang, and forgive me, but I’m not sure I can.”
    Lang sighed. “Okay, remember back in high school when we snuck in to see 9 ½ Weeks, and you thought it was twisted, while I was completely enthralled?”
    “Um, yeah, you said you wanted to be turned out like Kim Basinger. How could I ever forget that?”
    “Well, I’m still waiting to be turned out, Minah.”
    “You’ve got issues, Lang,” Aminah said, raising her left eyebrow and taking a sip of her coffee.
    Lang rolled her eyes. “What about when we rented that movie Secretary two years ago?”
    “That weird movie with that Olive Oyl–looking actress who let her boss spank her, put a saddle on her back, and stick a carrot in her mouth?”
    “Yes, Aminah, that one,” Lang replied, a bit annoyed that she’d reduced one of her favorite films to a horse-and-carriage flick.
    “I never got that movie,” Aminah said, dismissively flicking her right hand.
    “I know, but I did. I actually kinda envied Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character,” Lang said, smiling mischievously.
    “Who?”
    “‘Olive Oyl.’”
    “Oh.” Aminah laughed.
    “Anyway, her character finally met someone who intuitively tapped into her secret desires without her having to say a word or even explain herself,” Lang said enviously. “Desires that most people viewed as strange and abnormal—and she wasn’t letting that man get away from her. She bagged him by whatever means necessary.”
    “That’s ’cause they are strange, Lang,” Aminah said, throwing up her hands. “You know, you look so normal, so together. It’s mind-boggling.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “What? You want Sean to make you crawl on all fours while he throws money at you and orders you to pick it up like some kind of hooker?”
    “I can’t front—that’d be kinda sexy,” Lang said, smiling.
    “You’re one demented sister.”
    “See, that’s the thing. Why can’t I be both a together sister and sexually um, um…” Lang snapped her fingers, searching