by Tiana Laveen
“It was hard for you to admit that, wasn’t it?” He smirked as he changed lanes.
She burst into a fit of laughter.
“I hate that you know me so well, before you actually know me so well…” she confessed. “It’s like you read my mind or something. Here’s the deal, Ace.” She slapped her hands together, Her half bangs blew subtly in the wind from the partially rolled down window. It was chilly, but he supposed she wanted some fresh air. “I told you I’m in a strange place in my life right now. Like you, I want to be different than I was this morning, but still true to myself. I’ve got some shit to work out. But…I see you as an opportunity for change. You scare me a little, too — not in a spine-chilling way,” she clarified. “I’ve just never encountered someone like you before, so it’s different. Takes some getting used to.”
“Take all the time you need to get accustomed to it, because this is who I am…” He cleared his throat.
“I can’t figure you out.” She slung her purse to the floor. “Oh,” She looked around. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home. Look,” he took a deep breath, hating what he was about to admit, but he had to think with his big head and not the other one, “I need to say one more thing about our prior conversation, regarding intimacy.”
“And what would that be?” She crossed her legs and shot him a sassy look.
“Once we make love that first time, Brooklyn, you won’t want it to stop…”
“Oh my God!” She cackled. “Okay, now you sound like a lot of other guys. Thank you for bringing me back down to Earth.”
“Laugh and make jokes if you want to, but I’m serious.”
She quieted down.
“So, I gotta make sure you’re okay in here…” he pointed to her chest, at her heart, “before I show you what I can do down there…” He looked at her groin, then back into her eyes before turning back towards the road.
I’m not playing around with you! Because of how I feel about it, I know it is going to be good…better than good. We’ll know when the time is right…
She shook her head and reached over, taking his hand.
“Whew…you really have a way with words. Dyslexic my ass.” She laughed, drawing a big smile from him.
“Yeah…let’s go to my place and talk some more,” she said casually. “If you are nothing else to me after this evening, I can say from this point forward, you’re my inspiration, and my new friend. You’re a breath of fresh air. I believe what you’ve been telling me, too. I believe…that you’re sincere.” Her voice trailed as she floated in her own thoughts.
He took her hand and intertwined their fingers just so. His heart was fucking flipping. He’d gotten her over a hurdle, tore another wall down. There was no doubt in his mind that she meant what she said. Her Olympic racing was over, and now, he had to consider the fact that he was ALL…IN…
~***~
“And this is what you do all day for fun?” She picked up her glass and tasted her cranberry juice mixed with a stolen splash of his orange juice.
“I do.” He winked at her. “Like them over there.” Ace pointed across the room. “You see that man with the gray shirt?”
Brooklyn craned her neck, looking over her shoulder. “Yeah, what about him?”
“What do you think his story is?”
“Hmmm.” She set her glass down and tapped her fingers against the restaurant table as she deliberated, pleased to play his little game. “He might be a bus driver, or something of that nature.”
Honestly, she had no clue. Her mind had been a blur for the past few weeks during which time she’d had a succession of breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the man. His schedule was much more flexible than hers as of late, but she managed because she wanted to be with him and he made it clear that his free time was dedicated to nurturing their budding relationship. He had her. While Ace spoke, she thought back to the evening she realized that, without a shadow of a doubt, she was going to be with this man and even worse, she had strong feelings for him…
The night he drove her home after their second date had been one of the best evenings of her life. She knew this emphatically, though it left her in some ways rather perplexed…
Ace took possession of her couch while she went to grab them two chilled flavored water bottles. At the back of her mind, she suspected things may happen if she’d allowed him to come inside her apartment, especially after her shameful flirting back at the salsa club. She was now slightly ashamed of her actions as she took inventory of the way he eyed her. Well, she couldn’t erase what had transpired. All she could do was grab the waters and put one foot in front of the other and start afresh.
She sat down next to him, unsure of what to do, but she kept her expectations low. Maybe that was due to her being perturbed. Not with him, but with herself. Her mood shifted quickly once he opened his mouth. Instead of sports talk, or a quick retreat to the bedroom, he began an elaborate discussion about human nature…yes, human nature. Not only was it right up her alley, it opened a gateway for her to discuss various cultures, and the notion of what is expected of everyone, that things aren’t always black and white. The man could hold his own. His demonstrated his knowledge of sociology and good grasp of the human condition. It was, after all, his job. They sank knee deep in conversation, and she was learning from him — a rare treat indeed.
“Not everything is as it seems, Brooklyn. Two people can come from different backgrounds, but have so much in common. It’s human nature to be curious about others. Curiosity can either get you killed, in big trouble, let you change the world, foster a genius mind, and follow a path that is less travelled. Human nature is both a death trap and a kind of salvation to those in pain...”
Ace had a unique way of looking at the world. In a way, he seemed rather pessimistic. She wasn’t completely certain where the distrust originated from, but no one got even an inch from the man without earning it. Of that, she was certain. She now realized that his chosen profession of sociological studies for various companies was a perfect fit for the man. His observation skills were paramount and appeared rather instinctual.
She found this part of him sexy and disturbing all at once. Despite that, and his inability to allow trust to come easily, she was treated differently. For whatever reason, with her, he appeared to have high hopes. She wasn’t so sure she deserved that, but she would certainly try — as was he, who played the ‘gentleman’ role well and most importantly, it seemed more his nature than a mere ‘role’.
That theory had been tested. At one point, feeling hot, she unbuttoned the top fastenings of her blouse and he deliberately turned away, clutched his half consumed sparkling lime water and focused on the drawn curtains that offered nothing but fabric and blandness in the late hour. She wasn’t trying to seduce him, but it could have been construed as such. Finally, he looked back at her, slumped a bit further on the couch and put his damned feet up on her coffee table like he lived there.
Then he had the nerve to cross his ankles, take a swig, look up at her and say, “I thought you were about to do a strip tease. I wasn’t trying to see it… Okay, not true, yeah I was, but you know what I mean.” And then he burst out laughing, him with his bizarre self.
She then thought about her actions for a minute. Why’d she do it in the first place? She felt so comfortable with him, she didn’t even think twice about working the shiny, slim buttons through the skinny slots.
She liked this son of a bitch, and at that moment, she accepted it. The rest of the night made things even worse — well, better, depending on how one viewed it. They kissed…a lot. They talked…a lot. They hugged…a lot. And she divulged some secrets; little secrets, but secrets nonetheless. She never admitted to having siblings; she left that out. She appreciated that he let her speak without probing further, although she expected him to. Before long, she was sitting on his lap, running her fingers through his dark hair. It felt soft despite an obvious binding agent, more than likely
hair gel. He told her funny stories about people he’d met, about his travels in life, and she listened intently, feeling something for him that both disturbed and drew her to him.
The man made her laugh and then he made her sing when he reached for her again, his eyes intense, to devour her lips as if they were candy. Ace Blackstone was an intelligent, sensual and sarcastic man indeed.
“I like you so much, so fucking much, Brooklyn…” he whispered in her ear, his breathing choppy. All she could hear were their soft murmurs and the fabric of her blouse shifting under his exploring hands.
The entire encounter turned her inside out. She was getting it bad, real bad, and he kept pushing her ‘on’ button until it malfunctioned and sparked. He slid his hand over the front of her blouse and with sleight of hand, it landed on her breasts. Like a wind ushering her forward, his touch was subtle but deliberate. Respectful, lust-filled and sweet. He didn’t push beyond that, kept his exploration contained, not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to let her know he was burning for her, but had the self-control to move forward with consideration. With his other hand, he gently cupped her ass as she cradled closer on his lap, then squeezed it hard when she took his face between her hands and planted a devoted kiss, just for him. She squirmed a bit on his lap, feeling the pressure of his nature rising. The sexual tension now stood at new heights. At this stage, ‘subtle’ would no longer work…so he did what any gentleman would do: He gently set her aside, rose and promptly excused himself.
Grabbing his jacket, he kissed her goodnight on the cheek, and walked the fuck out of there, leaving her standing with a waterfall flowing down her damned quaking thighs and his empty bottle in her hands. She was certain she’d cum on herself as she continued to look at her closed front door and hear his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until she could no longer make them out…
“Brooklyn!”
“Oh, huh?!” His voice snatched her from her daydream, crash-landed her back to the present. She had no choice but to cross her legs. Tight.
He picked up his water glass, tapped his cigarette in the ashtray and left it there to burn out. This members-only club also sold one of a kind imported cigars, expensive, rare wines, and the like. It was one of the few places where one could still smoke indoors, due to a special license. Ace admitted he liked to visit the place a few nights each month. Brooklyn had never been inside before, believing it would be chock full of men standing around in suits and smoking until their lungs collapsed — and she’d been correct. The all-too familiar scent made her stomach roll with envy and forbidden desire. She watched the swirls of smoke bellow upward to the domed ceiling, and dissipate into the air.Just like her torrid thoughts it swirled free.
“You went far away, didn’t you?” He smirked and cast a lazy eye out the window then turned back towards her. “A bus driver? What made you think that?” He cleared his throat and sat a bit taller.
“Well.” She swallowed. “He has a light blue shirt on and a badge, like the bus drivers. He walks kinda stiff-legged, like he’s been in a seated position all day.”
Ace’s eyes brightened. He nodded, then stared down into his empty plate. Only the renegade juices of the steak remained from a satisfying meal.
“That’s very good, Brooklyn. Would you like to know the truth though?”
She sucked her bottom lip as her thoughts danced in confusion. Between being with him here and relishing the memories of their times together, she was coming undone, but tried to keep focused.
“What? Do you know him?” She looked over her shoulder, only to discover the man had moved and was now sitting down at a table nearby.
“No, but there is a way to figure someone out. I take it you are an observant person?” He lifted his glass and took a sip, his lips pursed and brows dipped ever so slightly. “You’d have to be, for the job, your work. Your interpretations and reflections have awarded you prestige and acknowledgement in your field.”
“Yes, I consider myself observant.”
“Well, let’s take our subject, here.”
She shot the stranger a glance, then gave Ace her full attention.
“The light blue shirt, yes, it is sort of like a bus driver’s; however, there is a small badge on it, as you noted. It’s not a bus driver badge, however. The badge has three white dots. Those three white dots are the symbol for the Stamford group. The Chicago Stamford Group is—”
“The project management team for the railway system.”
“Correct. Now,” he retrieved a fresh cigarette, lit it and pushed out copious rings of smoke, a smile playing at his lips. It was then that she noticed the dimple on his left cheek…
“He is a manager, and doesn’t sit long at all. The stiff gait you notice, where his knees aren’t bent at full capacity, is due to one of two reasons.”
“Which are?”
“He doesn’t get enough exercise and he has had a hip or knee replacement. One leg bends a bit more than the other, which is unnaturally stiff. A knee or hip replacement will look similar in slacks. The walk of the person will be slightly less seamless, especially if they aren’t working the muscles enough.”
“Ace, you’re pulling my leg! No pun intended.” She cackled. There is no way in hell you can get all of that from looking at that man.”
He grew quiet, and his smile faded. Before she knew it, he was on his feet and approached the guy, right before her eyes. He navigated through the few tables, confident, like he was someone important. To her, he was. He spoke loud enough so she could hear him. When Ace reached his quarry, the man raised his face from the greasy burger he’d been attacking with relish and looked up at him. He removed his hand from the bottle of wine which he no doubt planned to pour before the interruption. The man didn’t look too pleased.
“Hi, my name is Ace Blackstone. You look like a guy who used to work with my brother.” Ace was close enough for Brooklyn to make out the words.
The man hesitated, then shook Ace’s proffered hand with his clean right one, the one without the mayo and ketchup graffitied all over his fingers.
“What’s your brother’s name?” he asked around a mouth full of food.
“Brian Blackstone,” Ace lied. “He is a nurse at the physical rehabilitation center in Elmhurst.”
“Brian…hmmm, it sorta rings a bell. I was there a couple of years ago. You have a good memory if you remember that long ago.” The man laughed and bit into his sandwich again. “After I had my knee replaced there were a lot of great nurses and orderlies there that helped with my rehab. Your brother must’ve been one of them.”
Brooklyn ran her fingers along her jaw, trying to figure out if she could get it wired so that the damned thing would close once again. Ace went on with his spiel until he was soon back in his seat, sipping on his water and perusing the wine listings.
“I…can’t…believe you!” She laughed. “You knew him, you had to have!” At the end of the conversation, Ace had even gotten the man to admit where he worked by weaving in a compliment to the guy about the railway project. He was a smooth enigma all right.
“Bullshit.” He laughed. “I don’t know that man. It’s all just basic observation. You do the same thing; only, the people are deceased. I could never do what you do. It takes a different type of focus, and I admire that you excel at it.”
“Well.” She plucked a cold, pathetic looking fry from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “What have you observed about me today, since you’re allegedly so good at this?”
“Hmmm.” He took another drink of water and looked back out the window to stare at the clouds. “Today, you wore a different perfume than you normally do. This one is more floral. My guess is that it has jasmine infused in the formula. You haven’t flat ironed your hair in a long time...it’s puffy. I prefer it this way.”
“What in the world…?” She rolled her eyes and cracked up.
“What do you call them?” He pointed to his own scalp, his gaze still focused out the window. “You ha
ve two different hair textures, and in times past, when we’ve went out, I could smell certain products in your hair when it was straighter. I don’t smell them today. They probably were heat protectant products, right?”
“Excuse my shock and bluntness, but why in the world are you so knowledgeable on black hair care?” She grinned. “You’re talking about the kinky stuff growing out my scalp, right? Yeah, I didn’t flat iron it today. It needs a break. That is just an occasional thing.”
“I like to know about the woman I’m with...all aspects of her.” He shot her a quick glance then looked away again. “Also, you keep fidgeting in your seat and playing with your earlobe. You’re becoming sexually anxious.”
“Not this again…”
“It’s true,” he smiled a bit wider and ran his fingertips down the windowsill. “You always move around in your seat when you get turned on. It happens practically every time we kiss or when I say something that you can twist into a sexual suggestion. You have a very dirty mind,” he teased.
“I do.” She nodded her head in agreement, a smile as big as day on her face.
“I could go on, but I refuse to give you all the tricks of my trade.”
“That’s pretty extraordinary, Ace.” She couldn’t help but compliment him. Someone who could do that sort of analysis was exceptional in her mind.
“So…” He turned back towards her, tightly balling up a napkin in his hands as if he’d just enjoyed another meal. “It’s not true that I have a brother named Brian, but I do have brothers. Three, to be exact. I believe I told you I had siblings, but we didn’t get into much detail about it.”
“Yes, you told me.”
“I know you said you had siblings, but are you close to them?”
She gripped the edge of the table. The normal, mundane question should have had a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer, but in typical fashion, from years of conditioning, she froze.
He looked at her inquisitively, but waited, remaining quiet as if giving her time to stall and concoct some half cooked plan. No, Ace was different. Thus, she’d be different, too…
