Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  Not a beat passed before he said, “I’ll give you twenty.”

  I had to look stupid with the way my mouth opened as wide as my eyes. “An hour?”

  “What? That’s not enough?” he asked, though I could tell he was amused. “Do you want twenty-five?”

  “No, no . . . I mean, yes, yes. I mean, I’ll take twenty or twenty-five. Either one. That’s more than enough!” But then I pushed pause and rewound my excitement.

  I leaned back a little to get a clearer view of this joker. Now that he was sitting down, I noticed the diamond studs in both of his ears, big and bright. A quick glance at his watch gave me the same impression. Who was this guy and what did he do to be able to offer me that kind of money? And . . . what did he want me to do for twenty or twenty-five dollars an hour?

  “I’m not looking to get caught up in anything that’s not legal,” I told him, thinking that he was just some drug dealer. But I told him this with attitude so he’d understand I wasn’t some naive little girl.

  “Do you think I’d be here—at Howard—looking for an intern if I wasn’t legit? If I wanted just anybody to do just anything, I could find that girl anywhere.”

  Okay, he had a point. But still, some kind of catch had to come with that kind of offer. “And, I’m not interested in . . . you know . . .”

  “What?” he said. When I didn’t respond, he added, “You’re not interested in . . . something sexual?”

  The way he said it made heat rise to my cheeks, but I said, “Yeah,” as boldly as I could.

  He laughed. “Sweetheart, if I were looking for sex, there are easier ways for me to find it instead of coming down to the Student Office. I’d just head straight to the dorms.”

  Okay, he had another point. But, I needed to make my points, too. My voice was still strong and solid when I told him, “I’m just sayin’, I do everything on the up-and-up. I’m straight.”

  “That you are.”

  It was more than just needing the money that made me say, “So, if you are, too, then you got yourself a new intern.” I felt like I could trust him.

  I never saw my financial adviser that afternoon; no need, since I started my new position as Damon King’s personal assistant the next day . . .

  The sound of people—their chatter and their movement made me open my eyes. I must’ve had one of those “Damon grins” on my face because folks were giving me those what’s-got-you-so-happy stares. Whew! They just didn’t even know.

  There was just one blip in my wonderful life.

  Our lovemaking.

  I wanted to slap myself for thinking about that. Everything else was beyond good—why couldn’t I just be satisfied? And it wasn’t like I was an expert on good or bad sex, since I’d had no experience before Damon.

  With a deep sigh, I looked up and my eyes settled on a man. And my glance got stuck right there. He strutted toward me, wearing a smile—no, it was more of a smirk that said, I can make you happy.

  I inhaled a quick breath. And then another when he walked right up to me.

  Now, it wasn’t that I didn’t know who he was. Damon’s description had been spot-on: six-three, 220 or 230 pounds.

  “He’s about my complexion,” Damon had told me. “And the last time I saw Trey, he was sporting a bald head.”

  Damon was right on every single count, though there had been no need to give that complete description. He could have just told me to find the finest, swaggiest man in the airport.

  Because that’s what Trey was. It was more than his looks, it was the way he moved, with a little dip in his strut. With confidence so cool it made me weak, and I’m not talking about in a laughing kind of way.

  Without any real conscious thought, I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together. I had never done that before—not even while reading the sexiest scenes in a book. But something was going on south of the border and I had to get it under control.

  As Trey came closer, my focus shifted from his swagger to his eyes. His golden-brown eyes were piercing, as if he could see right through . . . my clothes. That scared me—could he see my yearning?

  “You must be Tiffanie,” he said in a deep, melodic voice that tore straight through to my center.

  He wrapped one arm around my waist, pulled me into his chest as if he knew me, and pressed his lips against my cheek.

  His lips lingered and lingered and lingered.

  And after about the third second, I shuddered.

  And shuddered.

  And shuddered.

  Then I wilted.

  After that long, slow, earth-shaking moment, he released me and I prayed that he hadn’t felt the way I trembled. But he must have because he stepped back, searched my eyes like he was one of DC’s finest, and then broke into a little chuckle.

  “Let me go get my bags,” he said as if he’d just done his job and now he was on to the next task.

  My eyes followed him as he strutted away and I tried to wrap my mind around what had just happened. A man I didn’t know said my name, kissed my cheek, and a tremor went through my body like that?

  I inhaled a couple of deep, quick breaths, but I never took my eyes off him.

  “What just happened?” I whispered.

  And then, as if he’d heard me, he twisted around. And winked.

  And right there, I shuddered and wilted again.

  4

  Tiffanie

  This was nothing but pure torture.

  Being inside the car with Trey tested every single fiber of my will. There wasn’t enough space. His presence felt dangerous, perilous . . . and gave me a thrill that I didn’t understand.

  “It sure is hotter here than I expected it to be,” he said.

  I looked down at my dashboard, where the digital thermometer showed 46 degrees.

  He just had to add, “Yeah, hot and sticky.”

  My heart raced and the little hairs on my arms stood all the way up.

  I stayed silent and he kept on talking. “I don’t know what it is,” he began, “but something’s got me all fired up.”

  The car’s brakes squealed as I slammed them hard. “Oh, my God,” I screeched, staring at the back of the Lexus SUV that was just millimeters from the front of my BMW. At the speed I was traveling, we would’ve been dead for sure.

  But though my heart was beating hard for a different reason now, Trey didn’t seem fazed. He just looked at me and chuckled. As if a close call with death was a regular, everyday occurrence for him.

  “Sorry,” I said and turned my eyes back to the road. I gripped the steering wheel, determined to concentrate, no matter what Trey said. No matter what was going on between my legs. “I’d better slow down.”

  “That’s cool, ’cause I like it fast, but I can certainly handle it slow, too.”

  I couldn’t believe this—Trey was flirting with me! But in the next instant, I talked myself out of that madness. This was Damon’s boy, his man, a hundred grand. A dude didn’t play with his boy’s main woman. Since I was Damon’s main—and only—woman, this had to be all in my head.

  “What about you, Tiffanie? You’re driving slow, but when you ride, do you like to go fast or slow?”

  Okay, I wasn’t imagining it. And this wasn’t even flirting. This was almost like—he was making me an offer!

  I gripped the steering wheel even tighter, but this time, it was as much to control myself as the car. I needed to keep my hands wrapped around that wheel before I reached over and touched him.

  Because that’s what I wanted to do. To steal a little touch of his hands or maybe his head. I paused, took a quick glance, and my gaze landed right between his legs.

  What was wrong with me? Shake it off, I told myself. Just shake this devil off!

  I couldn’t pull up to the Georgian—an exclusive office building located in the heart of DC�
��s U Street Corridor—fast enough. When I turned over the keys to the valet, I wanted to do a happy dance. But I couldn’t do anything except walk and focus on keeping my knees from knocking.

  “Damn! Take a look at this,” Trey said. Hoisting his garment bag onto his shoulder, he looked first down one end of the block and then in the opposite direction.

  I knew what Trey was talking about. He hadn’t lived in DC since 2000, and this wasn’t the same city.

  And the city wasn’t the only thing that had changed. I wondered what Trey really knew about Damon’s success. Did he know that Damon had taken advantage of gentrification and not only purchased real estate in the area but also made this the center of his business, King Commotions?

  “Yeah, things have changed,” I said as Trey followed me into the building.

  I felt his eyes behind me. As we waited for the elevator, the heat of his stare burned me. This man was setting me on fire, but I refused to turn around. When the elevator doors opened, I wanted to cheer; I’d made it. But once we’d stepped into the small chamber, Trey stood way too close.

  I felt his breath on my neck and then, with a deep breath of my own, I took in his scent, a blend of sandalwood and cedar and leather. He smelled like pure man.

  Inside the car, I’d wanted to touch him; now I wanted to lean back, fall into his chest, and feel his lips on my cheek just once more. Maybe this time, I’d turn my head so that our lips could meet and our tongues could dance.

  I could feel that kiss.

  Dang! I was dreaming with my eyes open!

  “Can you feel that?” he whispered into my ear.

  My mouth opened wide. Had he heard what I was thinking? Before I could turn around and ask him, the elevator doors parted.

  And there was Damon!

  Waiting for me.

  5

  Tiffanie

  I had no choice but to fall into my man’s open arms.

  “Hey, bae,” Damon said, frowning just a bit. With the tips of his fingers, he wiped the perspiration from my forehead. “Are you all right?”

  Oh. My. God. How was I supposed to explain sweating when it wasn’t even 50 degrees outside? I was twenty-eight, not forty-eight, so I couldn’t claim menopause.

  “Tiff?”

  I shrugged because I wasn’t sure what my voice would sound like. Plus, what would I say? Hey, your friend is so fine that I just want him to stroke me from one end of the earth to the other?

  “You good?” he asked me.

  This time I nodded.

  I guess that was enough, because he looked at me for only a moment longer and turned to Trey. Damon’s grin was big and welcoming when he said, “What’s up, son?”

  The two greeted each other with the universal black man’s handshake and hug, and I used that moment to make my getaway. I tore into the bathroom and almost broke down the door the way I barged inside. Stumbling like a drunkard, I made it to the sink and gripped the edge, using it to hold myself steady.

  A minute passed. Then another. And another.

  I was still wobbly when I turned on the faucet, then used my palms to toss cold water onto my face.

  Can you feel that?

  What had Trey meant when he said that? Had he been thinking what I’d been feeling?

  “Get it together, Tiffanie.” I shook off my leather jacket and laid it on the counter. “There is nothing for him to think because there’s nothing for you to feel. Damon. Remember? Your fiancé. Remember?”

  I moaned at the thought of the man I loved. Bringing Damon to my mind at this moment wasn’t exactly the solution; there was nothing in my memory that I could grasp about Damon that would help to stop the foolishness going on inside of me. The only thing thinking about Damon did was make me want Trey even more.

  I pulled the turtleneck of my sweater away from my neck and waved my hand, trying to push cool air inside. But I was still thinking about that kiss. Dang, it was only on my cheek. With that, Trey had done what I’d been yearning to feel with Damon.

  I leaned back against the tiled wall and closed my eyes. In less than two hours, Trey Taylor had changed my life. Well, maybe not my whole life, but my consciousness . . . my sexual awareness. Just thinking about it filled me with an urge to shudder again, filled me with a want to have another . . . orgasm. My eyes popped open. Was that an orgasm?

  No! It couldn’t be.

  It was a doggone shame that at my age, I just didn’t know. I’d been that girl, a twenty-three-year-old virgin when Damon and I did it for the first time. I wasn’t untouched because I had to be, though it would have been difficult to be living that life under my grandfather’s heavy thumb. But even when I got to Howard, I just wasn’t interested. Actually, that’s not even right—I just didn’t want it. I didn’t want sex; I didn’t want that thing that had destroyed my mother.

  But enter Damon King. He’d had to fight to get me, but once we’d made it official, I was ready to experience all that my girlfriends were telling me sex could be. And I was sure that this man, seven years my senior, would bring it. But the first time we lay together—nothing; the second time, even less. Weeks turned into five years of nada, naught, zilch.

  In the beginning, I’d talked to my best friend about it, but Sonia had been no help.

  “Oh, my goodness! ¡Por fin lo hizo!”

  I looked around Busboys and Poets, hoping that no one else in the restaurant understood her. “Sssshhh,” I admonished my Latina friend, who always blurted out Spanish here and there in our conversations, even though I couldn’t speak a bit of that language. But I’d been hanging out with her since seventh grade, so I understood enough when she reverted to her native tongue.

  With my hand, I motioned for her to bring it down a level. Then I whispered, “Yes, we finally did it, but can you just focus?”

  “Bueno.” Pushing her veggie burger to the side, she leaned across the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you finally let yourself go. I didn’t think that you ever would.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Estoy tan feliz,” she said, telling me she was so happy. And were those real tears in her eyes?

  It was a bit dramatic for me, but I understood my friend’s theatrics. She knew why I’d kept myself chaste all these years; she knew that it was because I’d been afraid of being cursed.

  “So,” Sonia finally breathed, “was it just amazing?”

  I paused. “That’s not quite the word I’d use.” I let another moment pass before I added, “We made love but, I didn’t feel . . . anything.”

  After a “Hmmmm” and a couple of pensive moments, she asked, “Are you holding back?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. And why would I?” When she gave me a long look as her answer, I said, “No. Once I decided to do it, I was all in. I love Damon, you know that. So I wanted to love him in every way. But I don’t”—I slowed my words down—“feel . . . anything when I’m with him.”

  She gave me a couple of slow nods and waved her hand. “That’s just because he doesn’t know your body yet. And you don’t know him.” She paused. “Be patient. It will get better, I promise.” Then she gave me another one of those proud mama looks.

  I was glad that she was happy, because I wasn’t. Once I’d decided to finally have sex with Damon, I’d expected my eyes to cross and my toes to tingle. I’d expected to be shouting “Hallelujah” while falling backward into that abyss of ecstasy that everyone talked about.

  But now, as I faced my reflection in this bathroom mirror, I spoke the truth out loud. “Damon wasn’t hitting it.” In fact, I was being generous, because in the five years since we’d been together, he hadn’t hit it once.

  I’d convinced myself that maybe this was the way sex was for the real people and I just needed to give it up. Not literally, but give it up in my mind.

  I’d done that.
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  Until now.

  I never thought I’d be turned out.

  Turned out. By Trey.

  And then . . . another thought. If Trey could do that with his lips, I wondered what he could do with . . .

  Really, Tiffanie? I sighed and shook my head. Is this how it had been for my mother? Is this feeling that I’d been yearning to have with Damon what had ruined her? Is this what had her, the good Christian girl, the pastor’s daughter, turned out when she was only seventeen? All I’d had was a little taste and now I felt almost . . . obsessed.

  Maybe the curse that I believed I’d had all these years had been real. And maybe that was why, after all this time, Damon couldn’t satisfy me. Maybe God had really been keeping me. Maybe this was why He’d chosen Damon for me. So that I would never feel this, never get consumed with something that could lead to death.

  “Get it together, Tiffanie,” I whispered to my reflection, now understanding the true blessing of Damon. He was a good man and it was a good thing that he didn’t turn me on and hadn’t turned me out.

  Reaching for the faucet once again, I splashed lots more water on my face, ruining my makeup, but that was fine. Then I paced, taking the moments to silence my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about Trey, I just needed to remember what happened to my mother.

  When my mind was back to the place where it needed to be, I reapplied my makeup, finger-combed my hair, and set my game face in place.

  I was ready to go back to the girl I’d been when I awakened this morning.

  But then I took one last look at my eyes and they told a different story. And the fluttering in my stomach did, too.

  I’d experienced that feeling and now, I just knew that I would never be the same.

  6

  Damon

  Man, I knew you were doing good, but I didn’t know you had it like this!” Trey said as he settled into one of the oversize leather chairs in front of my desk.