by Autumn Sand
She places her hand on her hips throwing her head back and then looking at me. “The dance would be easier than talking about my shit of a life.”
Shit of a life? What the fuck? “Wh-“]
“No questions tonight, Dante. You paid for a dance and I will do that.”
So many questions go through my head but I have to shelve them for another time. “You don’t have to.”
Her eyes avert from mine. “It’s okay. Guess it’s better you than some sleaze ball.”
“How about we skip that and do dinner?” I’m pushing my luck but I have to try.
“Dante.” Her voice is low as she looks at the floor and nibbles her bottom lip.
My pulse quickens as I see the blush on her cheeks. I’m getting to her. “Just give me a chance to prove to you that I’m actually a nice guy. Just dinner, no strings attached.”
Her long lashes touch her cheeks. “I’ll give you the dance because you paid for it. I still don’t know about dinner.”
She points to the chair and I turn to sit and wait for her to begin. Cueing the music, she saunters over to me seductively as my dick fights the urge to meet her up close and personal. As she sits on my lap, I smell her perfume, a mixture of vanilla and something floral. Her toned legs press against mine as she wraps her ankles around my legs. Placing one hand on my shoulder, she slowly slides backward, arching her back. If we were both naked, she would be in perfect position for me to slide my dick into her moist opening. She changes positions and stands, placing one foot on my shoulder as she gyrates to the music. I have to resist the urge to grab her. Our eyes lock and something passes between us. She stops momentarily as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“Everything okay?” She feels it. I know she does.
“Yes.” Her voice is a throaty whisper.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” If I can get her to admit it then she will let me in.
“Dante, I…”
I stand and pull her into me, kissing her deeply. She doesn’t fight it, but instead tugs me closer to her. Her taste is addictive and I want more. When she steps away from me, she’s panting.
She blinks rapidly as I stare at her lips that are smudged from her lipstick. “What are we doing?”
Holding the back of her head, I draw her closer to me gently. “I don’t know, but I want the chance to explore it.”
Her eyes widen and she nods her head. “Dinner.” Then she turns and leaves. Instead of the lost empty feeling I’ve become accustomed to, I have something to look forward to, and that feeling is strange.
Back in my car driving to my loft, I realize for the first time, I didn’t think about Kayla.
Chapter 11
Love Is Strong ~ The Rolling Stones
Tick
I’ve had women since Kayla, but they were just fucks here and there, a means to an end. I don’t want to just fuck Cyma; I want to protect her. I’m already a crazy motherfucker, but being around her makes my protective side go into overdrive. If a son of a bitch fucks with her, they’re dead.
“So did you tap that or what, bro?” Manny asks, sitting across from me and Magnum.
“Yo, fucking respect, man! She’s a lady.” Okay, remember my decision about anyone who fucks with Cyma? Let’s add to that, shall we? Anyone who disrespects her is fucking dead too.
Manny sits back in his chair and laughs out loud, slapping his hand on his knee. “Damn, man, you got it bad for her.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Bro, I’ve never seen you like this before,” Magnum adds, taking a swig from his beer.
Manny stares at me in contemplation. As if a light bulb goes off, he snaps his fingers. “You haven’t been like this since…” He doesn’t say her name, the name that always seems to linger around me. Manny knows how hard I took Kayla and my son’s death.
Magnum’s eyes wander lazily from Manny to me. “What the fuck are you two talking about?”
“Nothing.” I go over to the bar to pour myself a drink. Talking to these two brings out the alcoholic in me. A wave of guilt slams into my chest. Damn. I haven’t thought about Kayla because I was so caught up in Cyma. I woke up this morning happy to be alive and energized. Something I haven’t felt since what was supposed to be my wedding day.
“Umm, never mind, Mag. I was just pulling his chain, that’s all.” Manny tries to laugh it off and lighten my mood. Magnum’s expression shows that he thinks we’re both crazy.
“Hey, did I tell you about that time when Tick and I went to the Bunny Ranch?” Manny has a way of diverting your attention with crazy stories when he feels a mood is too heavy.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter in between debating if I should take a drink from my glass or throw it at his head. My thirst wins out and I take a drink.
“What happened at the Bunny Ranch?”
I’ve got one good nerve left and these two fuckers are jumping on that! “Mag, I need you to find out what her connection to Wheeler is.”
Sitting straight in his seat, his business face appears. “Sure. I’ll get right on it. She falls under your protection?” He knows who I am talking about. No names needed.
“Fucking A, she does.”
“Oh, shit. Never thought I’d see the day. The angels in heaven weep on the day that Tick stakes a claim to a b—umm, woman.” Manny corrects himself when I take a step closer to him.
I take a quick glance at my Breitling watch and realize I need to get a move on if I want to be on time for my date with Cyma. First impressions are everything. I want to show her that I’m a man who is worthy of her. Slamming back the last of my scotch, I place the glass down and wave off the fuckers as I leave.
Pulling up in front of the diner, I get out of the car and stroll inside. She spots me instantly and offers me a smile that makes me want to not just fuck her but actually make love to her. What the hell has she done to me? I’m going soft. She waves bye to a few customers, most of whom happen to be men. I make a mental note of each of the fuckers’ faces just in case I have to take them out later.
“I didn’t think you’d show up.” She giggles.
“Who me? Trust me, the only way I would’ve missed this if I were six feet under.”
As she gives me a kiss on the cheek, I want to grab her and get a repeat of last night’s kiss. But I fight the urge and settle for the peck on the cheek.
“Thank you for that,” she whispers softly.
A few thoughts go through my head. I wonder what has gone so wrong in her life that she has never felt special. It’s in this moment I decide I’m going to be the man to always remind her and show her how special she is. Once we’re inside my car, she lets out a yawn, and I feel like an ass for insisting on taking her to dinner after her shift.
“Listen, you’re tired. Why don’t I drive you home and we’ll have our date another time?” Taking in her appearance, I can see she’s running on very little steam.
“No, no. I can go. I was looking forward to this. If you could just run me to my house, I can change clothes quickly.” She tries to stifle another yawn.
“I prefer my dates to feel well rested. Do you have any days off?”
“No, but I have a few hours in the afternoons.”
“Okay, how about we reschedule for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Are you sure? I feel bad that I’m letting you down.” Her brows furrow with worry.
“You could never let me down. I’ll drive you home so you can get some rest.”
She leans across the seat and kisses my cheek gently again. It makes me hungry for more, but I refrain from unbuckling my seatbelt and pulling her in.
“Who would’ve ever guessed what a sweet man you could be.”
Now that’s a first for me. “Don’t let that rumor get out or it’ll ruin my reputation as a bad ass forever.” I’m half serious as I say this to her, but damn if that smile on her face makes me feel less and less like a bad ass.
Laughing at m
y comment, she lays another quick one on my cheek and I’m happy I paid close attention to my shave today. I drop her off at her apartment and head over to the club. As usual, it’s packed. I find Frick and Frack at the bar.
“What the fuck you doing here?” Magnum asks, a chick dangling on him.
“I took her home and rescheduled our date for tomorrow.” Damn, did the word date just leave my mouth in front of these two?
“Date? Since when do you date?” Tallie’s voice comes from behind me. I turn to face her.
She’s right, I never used to date. It was never my thing after Kayla. But now I have this connection with Cyma, and that’s a game changer. “Hey, Tals.” My eyes quickly scan over her perfect hourglass figure, and instantly I know she’s no equal to Cyma, with or without clothes.
“Hey you, I thought you’d left for the night.” Tallie comes closer to me and pushes herself into my chest. “Got an itch you need scratched?”
Any other day, I would’ve taken her up on this, but now that I have Cyma, hell to the fuck no! Placing my hands gently on her waist, I push her away. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out. “Not tonight, Tals.”
“Hey, I’m available,” Manny says with a smirk on his face, eyeing Tallie up and down.
She turns to glare at him before focusing her attention on me again. “What’s going on with you, handsome?”
“Ugh, Tals, I, ugh...” Since when do I find it hard to shake a chick off? “Listen, I’m seeing someone.”
Her expression changes to shock. “Since when? I was riding your dick a few weeks ago in the locker room. You certainly weren’t seeing someone then!”
I’ll be damned if that shit didn’t just hit home. Not that I give a fuck that she just screamed out our sex business in front of the world, but the fact that she was riding my dick a few weeks ago and now I can’t imagine her touching me again. “Tals…”
Tallie crosses her arms over her chest and taps her toe on the floor. “It’s her, isn’t it? That fucking stripper you were talking to? The one you put in a special request to come here that night.” She says the words as if she sucked on a lemon.
I glare at her and try to control my temper and not yell. “Tals, we never made each other any promises. It was what it was and now it’s over.”
Her eyes, which I used to think were sexy as fuck, narrow. “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that.”
“Yep, I agree,” Manny says, stepping between me and Tals. I know what he’s doing; he’s trying to block the inevitable slap that’s coming my way.
Tallie places a hand seductively on Manny’s arm. “Fine, how’d you like it if I fuck Manny instead?” She stares at me, waiting for me to respond.
Before a slick response falls out of my mouth, Manny speaks up. “I don’t know about him, but Manny is A-okay with it. Fuck away, baby, fuck away. I’m all yours.” He gives her a wink.
She waits to see if I’ll react. Unless hell has frozen over and the devil is ice skating, this chick ain’t getting no response from me on that one. Actually, I don’t care what she does or who she does it with. She’ll just have to deal. That’s the rules of the game. I turn to face the bar so I can order my drink, and I hear a loud huff. When I turn back around, she’s gone.
Manny claps me on my shoulder. “Bro, you better watch your back with that bitch. She’s pissed.”
Shrugging half-heartedly, I refocus my attention to more important things, like my drink. “Tell her to get in line with all the rest.”
“Man, I wish I had your problems,” Magnum says, as he kisses the girl who he has chosen for the night.
“What, people getting in line to hate me?”
“Nah, bro. You got a sweet piece of ass that you just tossed to the side and she’s still begging for more. You got a sexy-as-hell fucking chick who’s now your lady.” He shakes his head and laughs. “If only I could have your problems.”
“Fuck, I taught him everything he knows.” Manny pats his hands on his chest in King Kong fashion. “He learned from the pro, bro.” He laughs at his own joke.
“Get this dickhead over here?” I shake my head in laughter.
Straightening his Tom Ford suit, Manny gives himself a quick glance in the mirror behind the bar. “You saw the way Tallie was touching me. She wants this.”
“Nah, bro, she ain’t that desperate,” Magnum says, humor in his tone.
As they banter back and forth, my eyes wander until they eventually meet Tallie’s. She is staring at me from across the room. Her eyes are definitely not friendly. Yep, it’s official, I can add her to the list of people who hate me.
Chapter 12
Butterflies ~ Michael Jackson
Cyma
Waiting outside for Dante to arrive for our rescheduled date, I begin to have second thoughts. When I went to visit Lelia at the hospital this morning, I mentioned my date to Brenda, who felt it was great that I was doing something for myself for once. But guilt still winds through me about going. Lelia is fighting for her life and I feel as if I shouldn’t allow myself any distractions. The good thing about today, so far, is Lelia has had a good day and it makes me feel slightly at ease.
Dante’s car pulls up in front of my building and he immediately gets out to help me inside. He’s one of those rare breeds of men who still treat a woman like a lady. Where did all of those men go?
“You look incredible.”
His words are like a warm caress. “Why thank you.” He smiles tenderly and begins driving away. “So where are we off to?”
“It’s a surprise.” He gives me a wink.
“Surprise? What kind of surprise?” I haven’t had a surprise since I was a kid, if you don’t count the surprise when I found out I was pregnant with Lelia.
“If I told you the details of the surprise, it would no longer be one, now would it? Just sit back and enjoy yourself, that’s all I ask of you.” He speeds down the streets of Manhattan. He drives with authority and absolute control. I wonder if he’s that way in the bedroom. Somehow, I think he is. He probably has sex the way he drives: wild, skillful, and self-assured.
I do as I’m told and sit back and enjoy the ride. Part of me feels like I’m embarking on an adventure and I feel carefree. Perhaps I can pretend for an hour or two that my life is perfect. My daughter is healthy and there’s no eviction looming over my head. Everything is absolutely great. As I daydream, I absent-mindedly stroke the butter soft leather seat. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t realize that he has slowed down until he parks the car.
He opens the door and helps me out. We stroll down Park Avenue in Manhattan. “Okay, get ready to be pampered.” His face is beaming.
“Huh?” Pampered is a word that is foreign to my vocabulary.
He opens the door to the high-rise building for me with a giant smile on his face. In this moment, his normally sharp features are almost childlike. We’re greeted by a doorman and we take the elevator up to the top floor. We step through the doors and I’m wowed that it’s a spa. Not just any spa, but one of the most prestigious spas in New York that I read about in one of the women’s magazines Brenda buys. The receptionist greets us right away and offers us each a glass of champagne, which we both accept.
I am like a giddy school girl as I look around at all of the bright shiny things in the waiting room. We take a seat, sipping our champagne, as I pinch myself repeatedly to make sure I am not dreaming. “You brought me here for a massage?” The one and only massage I’ve ever had was when I was in a mall with some co-workers. I paid for one of those fifteen minute massages. It was good but not great. Somehow, I’m willing to bet this spa offers a massage of the better variety.
“I brought you here to be pampered. Figure you could use it, working two jobs and all.” He shyly rubs the back of his neck, and I want to kiss him. The gratitude I feel from this gesture alone is enormous. Just as I’m about to kiss him, a tall, statuesque woman comes in. If memory serves me correctly from reading the article, she use
d to be a runway model and when she retired, she opened up this elite spa.
“Dante, darling, I’m so glad you called. It’s been way too long. Finally, you’ve come to use my spa services.”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek and my expression becomes sullen. Taking in her expensive clothes, I glance down at my cheap worn-out outfit that a moment ago I would’ve said was sexy, until I saw the beauty in front of me. She turns her attention to me.
“Darling, you’re stunning. Those cheekbones, those eyelashes… and they’re real!” She smiles at Dante, or Daaanteee as she calls him. “I’m so excited to meet your lady.” She faces me once again. “Cyma, is it?” I nod. “I’m Lisette. But my friends call me Lise. Since you’re a friend of Dante’s, you’re a friend of mine.” She smiles at me.
What kind of friend was she or is she or whatever! She turns, and Dante and I follow her. Lise ushers us into a room and tells us that our pamperist will be out in a minute. Is pamperist even a word? Note to self: look it up when I get a chance.
Alone in the beautifully decorated room that’s meant to evoke calm and serenity, all of a sudden, I’m not feeling either. Who exactly is this Lise to him? “So, umm, Lise is a friend of yours?”
He takes a seat, already getting into his place of Zen. “Hmm? Oh, yes. I helped her out of a jam a few years back.”
Oh, another damsel in distress! “What kind of jam?” My jaw tightens and I purse my lips, waiting for him to dig himself in a ditch.
“The type of jam that I’m good at fixing.” Is that the only answer I’m going to get?
“Soooo she was a damsel in distress that you rescued?” My tone is definitely clipped as I ask the question through gritted teeth. He nods slowly at my question.
His expression relaxes as he settles back into the lounge chair. “I guess, in a way. It was a quick fix and I was happy to do it.” Death daggers fly from my eyes and at his relaxed form.
Just as I’m about to ask him another question, our oh-so-cheery and bubbly pamperist enters. She directs us to a locker room so we can change into robes. After changing, we step out of our individual locker rooms and our pamperist escorts us to a private massage room. The tables are side by side. We do as instructed, removing our robes, and lay face down on the tables.
