That reminded her. If she was going to risk going out with the hunky white politician with the complimenting sweet mouth, then she needed reinforcements in the form of protection against a possible nine months of back breaking weight. She didn’t have the willpower to say no that most women had. The last thing she needed right now was to become filled to the brim with a man’s fertile sperm. She reached into the coffee table drawer for her birth control pills and flipped open the oval dial. It was six long months since she stopped taking them. But if she were going to start dating again, and if that sexy Arnold was going to be on her arm, then she were going to have to start taking the pill again. Sooner or later she would cave. She always did. She was so predictable. Her silky smooth world class legs would eventually part like the Red Sea. If not this week then the next one, or the one after that. It would only be a matter of time. She glared at the open dial. Empty. Empty? How was that fucking possible? Out of pills?
“Shit.”
“Pardon?”
“No, not you,” Marg blurted out into the phone with embarrassment. “I was lamenting over a certain situation, that’s all.”
“I see. Well I just called to say that I enjoyed our lunch together yesterday, and am so looking forward to the game Saturday, but since that’s a few days away and I’d love to see you again sooner, I thought maybe dinner later tonight? Maybe dancing after that?”
Normally Marg would hit a new over-anxious man with the excuse that she had to rise up early for work the next day, only she wasn’t working. Neither did she have much in the way of a tantalizing dinner in her empty fridge. And she hadn’t been out having fun on the town for so long that, that…
“Marg?”
“Still here.” She spat the words out the way a dieting person says ‘maybe’ when presented with a triple fudge Sundae with all the toppings. She knew from experience that a handsome, buff guy like Arnold wasn’t going to stay on the bachelor shelf for too long if he kept on flashing those emerald greens and expensive dates around. A sweet, good looking guy with money to burn usually could afford an above average engagement ring. Marg now had to wonder if fate was finally playing into her hands or if fate was simply replaying a piece of history that was about to blow up in her overanxious, love starved and sex starved face.
“So, can I take it we’re on for tonight?”
“Tonight?” Marg blurted out, almost mindlessly. She had just wrestled with herself over the thought that she was far too good looking for her own good. A mag cover face and an hour glass figure that was to die for. A lot of women viewed her as being some kind of slut, but then again they didn’t have to endure the same kind of wicked temptation she did. Most of the guys coming on to her were Denzal Washington lookalikes, and so bursting at the seams with charm and biceps that it was a wonder she hadn’t gone out with even ten times as many men by now. She was being constantly serenated by the crème de la crème, and it was a miracle she had any resistance to going out with them at all.
“Shall I swing by at six?”
She frowned at how stupid she had been, letting him drive her home yesterday after lunch. Now he knew where she lived, and now he could easily weaken her resolve by constantly tempting her by coming over, and whisking her away to someplace really nice. She waited for that shoe to drop. She didn’t have to wait long.
“I made reservations for us at Capatroni’s Palace.”
His words enthralled her. You couldn’t buy a dinner there for under a hundred bucks, and she had heard stories about their seafood that made her suddenly drool with envy. Arnold certainly knew how to push a girl’s buttons. Although she was desperate to say no and spare herself the probable heartache coming down the road. She shrugged at her own weakness and bit the bullet.
“Six sounds fine,” she managed.
“Good, see you then.”
The disconnecting click had a certain finality to it. They had a chance meeting the day before. She had, three years before that actually sat in his office when he was councillor because she had a zoning issue over a building rented by a charity organization she worked for, a building they now wanted to purchase. The land had been zoned industrial, which meant that the city up till then had been collecting taxes on it. In order for the building to be declared tax free, then certain expensive, time consuming clearances would have to be obtained. Arnold had helped her and her organization avoid the hurdle of mind boggling red tape. At that time he had made a lot of goo-goo eyes at her, but hadn’t asked her out. She assumed it was because he had been married at the time. Now he was divorced. She had no problem with dating divorced men. It were the so called ‘separated’ ones that made her reluctant and antsy. Separated men tended to get re-attached to their spouses at some point. A time bomb waiting to happen, and a bomb she had allowed to go off in her life one time too many. But at least with Arnold, she wasn’t going to have that problem. Divorced men rarely went back to their ex’s. Not that they didn’t at times talk about them or rant about them or whatever. But they rarely went back to them. Arnold’s declaration that he was safely divorced and had the papers signed sealed and delivered, made her feel more at ease with his status. And she had only become concerned with his status in the first place because he had acted so enamored and enthralled with her over lunch, making her overworked ears run the gauntlet of his constant compliments about first her hair, then her nails, then her bubbly personality, and then her legs, and then-
She glanced at the clock. Four on the nose. Only two hours to get ready for a man that was either Mr. Wonderful, or Mr. Deception. Her instincts, as usual, couldn’t tell her which. She now wondered if that had been part of her problem all along. Not having some kind of built in alarm or radar system that could filter out the low-lifes and the damn useless dweebs.
Her phone again, making her jump.
She glanced at the number. Arnold again?
No, not Arnold again.
Her mother again?
No, not her mother again.
Her little, happily married sister with adorable children?
Bingo.
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. No doubt her mother had ratted her out to Delores. And no doubt Delores had decided to call her to insist that she be careful. It was now the little sister’s turn to give advice.
“Hi sis.”
“Hi right back at you, although mother says you been misbehaving again. Going out with men who used to do you wrong.”
“As usual, mother has purposely twisted the facts. Arnold and I met in his office a while back on behalf of a charitable company I used to work for. But we weren’t going out.”
There was a pause as Delores sorted through some loose memories rattling around in her head. Then a light bulb came on. “Arnold Winston? The councillor?”
“The one and the same.”
“Damn, he’s cute. I remember seeing some of his campaign posters, and even a pic of him resting on a local beach, and thinking that “wow, if I wasn’t already married then that’s one white beefcake I’d really like to sink my Caribbean teeth into.”
“You saw him without his shirt on?” Marg asked incredulously.
“Damn straight. That’s probably why he won so many terms in office. Can’t imagine a woman voting against those rippling abs or that super sexy chest of his. Although-”
“Although what?”
“Although if memory serves I do believe that the man is already married.”
“Used to be married. He is now divorced.”
“Lucky you, scooping him up on the rebound. Now I know why mother was so nervous. Guys like that will make a play for your heart and not take any prisoners.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Famous last words like the last dozen men that made promises to you they had no intention of keeping. And half of those were unhappily married men pretending to be single.”
“Fine, I fucked up. Does that mean I’ll never get it right?”
“You might just strike go
ld with Arnold.”
“Why, cause he’s white?”
“Get that thought out of your head. White guys can stomp on your heart and leave you devastated just as bad as any black man you can think of. But he seems to be a family oriented kind of guy and if he has a thing for black chicks, well, you’re probably the sexiest, best looking, funniest black chick around. He’s gonna want to be with you.”
“Nice of you to say, thanks. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
“I thought mother said it was a hockey game Saturday night?”
“That too.”
“Shit! The guy moves fast, doesn’t he?”
“That’s the way I like them, fast movers, only it would be nice if this one actually stayed around for a while.”
“Well maybe if you’re not so quick off the draw at spreading those model like legs of yours then-”
“I get so damn tempted and so damn horny. What can I say?”
“You can say that you’ll be extra careful. You tend to fall in love so damn easily.”
“Don’t I know it. But this time I’ll really try to guard my heart.”
“Damn, supper’s burning on the stove. I’ll call you later tonight. Hopefully you won’t have asked the irresistible Arnie to sleep over.”
“I’ll try not to be my usual slut self, although it may interest you to know that I’ve been sex free now for a full six months.”
“A lie!”
“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“A whole half a year? I didn’t think it possible for a girl like you. But it just goes to show you that…oh no…there goes the smoke detector. Talk to you later. Bye.”
“Bye.”
A whole half a year. Marg shook her head. Over the last fifteen years she had developed quite a taste for the pleasures of the flesh, having started her long winded career of satisfying men between the sheets since the tender age if eighteen. But she had been trying to wean herself out of that lifestyle of late. And her current record of six months, one week, two days and one and a half hours was a testament to that fact.
A pang of hunger dug at Marg. She had barely had a bite since the one slice of dry toast for breakfast. She smiled at herself. If she was looking to keep her sensational figure intact, then she was certainly going about it the right way. Still, she supposed she should eat something. Steamed Lobster and succulent steak wasn’t due for at least another two or three hours. She smiled a second time. Abstaining from food was a whole lot easier than abstaining from sex, but she already knew the reason why. The men in her life had been so damn gorgeous, so buff, so fucking out of this world handsome, that they had been hard to resist. Still, she supposed that such a lifestyle probably explained, at least to some degree, why she had such a hard time snaring a wedding ring as opposed to just another man. Men tended to get a sense about women. Marg was very hot and very desirable, and could have any man she chose. And she certainly did just that, only women with a reputation for having a lot of mileage on them seemed to be the first ones left by the wayside. Regardless of how sweet she was, and regardless of how kind and caring she was, and regardless of how super hot she was, when a girl like her had a rep for sleeping around, then men tended not to want to bring her home to their mothers when all was said and done. Marg was agitated at the thought. She didn’t think it fair, but she could kind of understand a man’s reasoning. What if he were to marry her and she were to start running around with every other man in sight. Society had a high tolerance for men that couldn’t keep it in their pants. ‘Boys will be boys’ was the battle cry whenever that was the case, and even presidents and men of God had managed to survive the scandal. But women had no such luck. That was a double standard that always grated on Marg’s nerves. Men could romp about with their pants around their ankles, but women had better not pull up their skirts over their heads. It was okay to show lots of cleavage, but not okay to let their damn stubby nipples show. Women were supposed to remain innocent and pristine, two virtues which Marg could hardly lay claim to, and yet, she was a very nice girl with a sparkling personality and a keen mind. The fact she was the most beautiful woman ever born on God’s green earth didn’t alter the fact that she deserved to be just as happy as any other female of the human race. And she felt she certainly deserved to be married. But she bit her bottom lip over the realization that women didn’t always get what they deserved. Sometimes they got the opposite. She now wondered what going out with Arnold Winston would bring.
XXX
He smelt good, real good, and that was the first thing she always noticed about a man. Some could only afford cologne which dissipated after just the first smile. Others could afford the really good stuff, stuff that lingered tauntingly for the whole evening despite being a mere dab or two.
He hit a button and the roof of his BMW slid all the way back.
Arnold’s scent still lingered, and that was even after a stunning desert of cherries jubilee had been lit with liquor, eaten and mulled over as the glowing candles flickered sensually off the dark, velvety walls. It was a restaurant to die for, and he had spared no expense when ensuring she tried every appetizer in addition to the finest wine.
He wore a cream colored jacket and a handmade shirt with such an intricate embroidery that she found it too fascinating not to stare shamelessly at.
The moon was half full, as was her glass. He had purchased an extra bottle along with two glasses upon leaving.
“This is the place you wanted to show me?” Marg asked, her bountiful cleavage shoved under his nose as she snuggled closer, adjusting her head on his strong broad shoulder.
“Yes. I bought this land some time ago. I plan to eventually build a cottage here, my own little slice of paradise, actually.”
A smattering of Elm trees cast waving shadows over the rolling green meadow, and the soothing sound of The Detroit River, rushing to meet the Great Lakes further upstream, tantalized her ears.
“You own this land?”
“Uh-huh. Fifteen acres on the banks of the river.”
“I have to admit. I’ve seen lots of cottages on lakes before, especially on the great lakes, but never on a river before.”
“That’s what makes it so unique and breathtaking. So quiet and out of the way. Honestly, no one ever comes here.”
“It certainly is very beautiful,” she whispered to him, knowing he would predictably respond as most men would, but claiming it was “not half as beautiful as you are.”
He offered the customary visual praise, then waited for her to snuggle even closer, which she did. Only she suddenly sat up, and gripped his face with her long, tan colored nails.
“I really like you,” she managed, trying not to let her voice waver or quiver. She was done being used as a doormat. Everything that Arnold had done up till now during the evening was designed to get her into a bedroom before the night was through. Only she was tired of seeing an empty bed once the morning light broke through. “But I am just so tired of the love ‘em and leave ‘em mentality floating around men’s heads nowadays. Us women have feelings too.”
“I think,” he muttered, his words beginning to take him out onto a long, dangerously thin branch from which there could be no reprieve, “that you are disappointed in men not because they never stick around, but because you keep on finding men that don’t want to stick around.”
“Not sure just what the heck you’re trying to say,” she ventured softly.
“What I’m trying to say, is that some of us may be looking for the same thing you’re looking for.”
“And just what, pray tell, am I looking for?”
“A guy who will appreciate your oversexed and stunning body…a guy who will feel so elevated to have such a mag cover face strolling on his arm…a guy who will cherish the sweetness of your smile, and the fact you have the world’s greatest set of legs…a guy who can’t wait to show off his new girl to all his friends and family…a guy who will love you just as much for your amazing personality a
s he will for your amazing figure…”
“Stop right there,” she demanded, pressing a finger to his lips. “Why don’t you simply quit while you’re ahead.”
Her hand left his face and gripped the back of his neck, pulling his moist lips closer.
Her mouth enveloped his nervous smile, sending shivers up his spine. She was signalling that she was willing to take a chance on his sumptuous words. Whether or not he chose to stick around was something that only the eventual morning light would reveal.
For now, a half moon and a smattering of stars would provide their only light.
He tried to get up, but she wanted him to simply sit back and let her take charge.
His cock felt like heaven in her suddenly squeezing hand. He wondered how she’d managed such a trick. He hadn’t, after all, either felt or heard the zipper going down.
Her blouse slipped off her shoulders and her one free hand miraculously snapped at the clasp that held her bra in place.
His eyes widened at her dangling thick stubby nipples.
He desperately wanted to suck them, and she desperately wanted to let him.
She dangled them onto his lips, feeling her body shiver with orgasmic delight as his tongue touched her nipples and his index finger toyed with her stunned, exploding clitoris.
She was getting that ultra-sweet feeling of Deja-vu all over again, and there would be little she could do to stop either of them right now.
His cock was suddenly hard as steel in her deadly black hand, and she was unwilling to wait any longer. She had stifled the urge for six long months, but now that the barriers to lovemaking had been disengaged, all she could think about was the heart stopping pleasure that would greet her should she allow that fleshy steel to part her vaginal lips and stretch her wide open.
His own facial lips intensified their efforts on her sweetly tortured breasts and she was now wallowing in abject bliss.
“Go ahead, you can put it in,” she begged, whipping off her skirt and panties as she mounted him and let her exploding pussy juices drip onto his swirling balls.
Her engorged breasts stayed languishing against his sugary mouth, and her fingertips tried to steer him directly underneath her hovering pink hole.
As Time Goes By: A BWWM Interracial Romance Page 2
