by Tiana Laveen
“Yeah, I do. Life is too short to not laugh sometimes, even if you’re the butt of the joke. Speaking of the books though, Saint did really write that … my son-in-law doesn’t know that I’ve read all of his books. Every last one of ’em. It would gas his big ass head up, and he don’t need any help in that department.”
Gaspar chuckled. “Pam, I must say that you look very nice tonight. Such a beautiful, fun woman you are.”
“Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
He’d better damn well appreciate my time and effort.
She’d taken two frustrating hours getting ready for their shindig, fussin’ with Isis who kept running off with her shoes playing dress up, and Dakarai standing there with a jam sandwich at her door asking if her date was taking her to Bikini Bottom at the Crusty Crab. Where the cotton pickin’ hell was Bikini Bottom let alone the Crusty Crab?! She hadn’t bothered to ask. Deciding to take her daughter’s advice, she went a bit more low-key in her attire, wearing an ivory kimono type top with white fringe and lace as delicate accents, paired with loose navy blue pants. A bit boring, but the shiny diamond necklace and earring set Xenia had loaned her really seemed to set it off. Pam looked around the place, then back into Gaspar’s dazzling eyes. She couldn’t recall the last damn time she’d been on a date, especially one that didn’t involve a $6.99 buffet and a buy one get one free coupon. Funny how it all went down in the first place. Xenia had let her know that the man was checking for her, and much to her own surprise, she’d consented to him giving her a call … and he had … and now here they were…
A waitress soon came by and asked for their order. Pam pursed her lips, though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t make that prunish face when wearing her reading glasses. Hassani would always burst out laughing when she did it, but it was too late now. She caught the man fighting a smile.
“I’ll have some iced tea, please.”
“Sweetened or unsweetened?”
“Sweetened. And uh, oh!” She shook her finger in the air like an usher leaving the sanctuary. “I want some lemons up in there, too. Y’all try to be slick and not put no fresh lemons in the tea, just use that cheap concentrated stuff. I want to see the lemons wit’ my own eyes, peep their yellow peels for myself.” The waitress nodded and assured her it would be taken care of.
“And you, sir?”
“I’ll have the same.”
The waitress disappeared and left them alone. Pam, for once in her life, was speechless. Here she was, in New York, with a handsome businessman, sharing a meal. And he thought she was cute…
“Saint said your wife died some odd years ago. What happened?” She snatched her purse from the seat by her side and searched in it for a cough drop or mint.
“Yes.” He clasped his hands together. “My wife had breast cancer.” The sadness in his eyes was almost tangible.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” he said with a faint smile. “It’s okay though. It’s been a bit over four years. She was a wonderful woman. She had come from a well-off family, but was humble and loving. She’s the reason I met Saint, actually.”
Well off, huh? I bet she was like those stuck-up heffas in Beverly Hills paradin’ around with oversized sunglasses and fur shaws in the summertime. Hmph!
“Oh, really? Tell me all about it.” Pam picked up her menu and perused the selections.
“Well, you see, I went to one of his conferences. My wife always told me that she knew I loved her, but that I didn’t always understand her. I’m Portuguese.” He patted his chest. “I was born in Lisbon, the capital of Portugal. I moved to the United States with my parents when I was seventeen. By then, my culture was instilled in me. My wife, Kathleen, was African American, and though most times that didn’t seem to matter, at other times I suppose it did.” He shrugged. “So, I decided to get help in understanding her ethnicity better. I began to attend cultural festivals with her and then I heard about this great speaker, Dr. Saint Aknaten, from a colleague. I looked him up online, signed up for one of his conferences, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. Our marriage improved so much. Communication flowed better.”
“Is that so, huh? So you’ve always enjoyed a bit of chocolate, huh?” Pam teased, but she wanted the answer all the same.
“Yes, I like chocolate. My favorite candy bar is Snickers.”
“No.” She burst out laughing and shook her head. “I am talking about Black women, Gaspar. You’ve always had a thing for us, huh?”
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “Not specifically. I just like women, period. I suppose I was a bit naïve because I never really saw color until I moved here. The racism … so ugly.” His brows furrowed. “Not to say that Portugal didn’t have its issues, but I had never seen it on this scale, you know? I’ve dated many different types of women. My last two relationships just happened to have been with Black women. I dated a lady for a couple of years, that didn’t work out, and then I met my wife. That didn’t work out and then I met my wife… I must say though, I do find your skin tones very beautiful.” His eyes sparkled. “But, you know, people are people.”
“Mmmm, I see.” She folded her napkin over her lap, his words giving her food for thought. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad that Saint could help you with your wife.”
“Saint is a very wise man … very gifted. He taught me so much. He is older than his years.”
“Really?” Pam’s brow rose. “We can’t be talkin’ about the same Saint. He’s the most juvenile man, besides my ex-husband, that I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She cackled, causing the man’s eyes to widen in surprise. “You talk about havin’ a fit!” She slapped the table as her eyes filled with tears of mirth. “Honey, Saint can have temper tantrums like you wouldn’t believe!”
“No way!”
“Yes way, all the way, today until pay day, you betta scream May Day! He always has to have his own way!” At this, they both chuckled. “He’s like a damn child! That man is a mess!”
“I don’t believe it! He is not like that at work. Very professional man! This is astounding. You make these things up, don’t you? More jokes, right?” She found his accent cute, and his naiveté, too.
“Trust me, Gaspar, Saint is smart, just like you said. So, he knows who to cut up in front of and who not to. He only shows his ass with family and friends.”
“I hope to never see Saint’s ass. I don’t think that would be proper.”
“No.” She grinned. “It’s a figure of speech, baby. Not like for real … it means like to act up, act a fool, be silly, you know.”
“Ahhh! I thought you meant he’d get upset and what do they call it, moon people!” They both burst out laughing again.
“I wouldn’t put that past him, either. That temper of his is no joke. I like to push his buttons though, get him goin’. It’s entertaining.” She swiped a tissue at her eyes, patting them dry as they both settled down. “In all seriousness though, he is a good man, so you have him pegged right, Gaspar. He’s just full of personality, is all. Like me, I guess you could say.” She nodded as she delved deep in recent memories…
Saint had called Ira the other day and forced the man to talk to him. Like a night switch, Porsche said Ira’s behavior got better after their conversation. Saint was such a good father, it sometimes made her pause. She’d never seen a man that balanced being caring and tough all at once. Saint was a damn sweetheart to his little ones. They could go to their daddy for anything. And he treated her baby, Xenia, like gold. What more could she ask for?
“He’s a very good man. Very funny, too.” Gaspar shot her a toothy smile.
Their drinks soon arrived and they both took their first sips.
“Mmmm, this is good!” Pam exclaimed. “Now see.” She pointed to the glass. “I’m real particular about my lemonade and tea. I got these recipes from my grandmother, who was a Southern belle. She moved up to California wit’ her husband back in the 1930s. I was born and ra
ised in California, but see, much of my family was actually from the South. That was common though, you know, that second big migration up North, to the Midwest and western part of the country. I understand you’re from L.A., too. Small world, huh?”
“Yes, and that is what I was going to explain to you about Saint, too, but we got sidetracked.”
“Oh, shoot! That’s right. I was so busy goin’ in on him and makin’ fun of the man that I forgot. Go on.”
“Well I’m enjoying this conversation so much, hearing about you.” He waved his hand. “We can get back to that later.”
“No,” she said flirtatiously, batting her lashes. “Go ahead.”
“Well.” Gaspar ran his fingers across the surface of the table. His eyes glimmered with hope and promise. “Saint decided to move an office out here to New York and I volunteered to come, too. I should start at the beginning though. It started when I—”
“Are you ready to order?” The waitress returned, a big smile on her face.
“Oh, yes.” Pam peered down at the menu. “I wanna get the fried chicken dinner. And for my sides I want red beans and rice and collard greens.” She handed the woman her menu.
“And for you, sir?”
“Yes, I’d like the chicken and waffles, please.” The waitress nodded and sauntered off with their menus. Pam turned back towards him, ready to hear how he and Saint had met, but the man reached out across the table to cover her hand with his.
“I’m having a really good time, Pam.”
“So am I.” Her face warmed.
“So, uh, yes.” He slowly slid his hand away. “So, I kept going to Saint’s conferences whenever he’d have one in L.A. I got a chance to attend a book signing, too. That was our first time meeting. He was at the Barnes and Noble at The Grove.
“Yeah, okay. I go there sometimes.”
“So, eventually he had a Q&A session at one of his conferences. It was like,” the man seemed to look for the perfect words, “a small gathering of Rainbeaus, and he was sitting smack dab in the center. We had to pay extra for this, and it was worth every penny. Life changing.” He shook his head. “By this time, my wife’s cancer was in remission, and I was feeling optimistic but still worried.”
“Yeah, cancer is sneaky. You think it’s gone and then it come on right back.”
“Right. But, Saint gave good advice and some of the guys even cried. He was just … so down to Earth … and funny. He had charisma, but was relatable. He and I and some of the other guys got to discussing our jobs, and I told him I was a senior manager at a bank. I have a Master’s degree in business finance. I let him know, just in general conversation, that I wasn’t happy at the bank for it wasn’t allowing me to really branch out. He then pulled me aside and told me that I could interview for a teaching position with his company.” The man shrugged. “I had no idea what he was talking about, you know? I just knew that Saint was a speaker and a therapist. He was a big personality in his circle, an accomplished self-help author. But he explained he had an organization that specialized in helping Rainbeaus and Queens in all aspects of their lives. He wanted to give people in general, as well as his staff, courses in finance.
“So, I figured, ‘why not?’ I applied, and then I had a second interview. Before long, I was hired. It was the best decision for my family, Pam. It allowed me more free time to spend with my wife. We finally had time to travel! And I was making more money working for Saint than at the bank, so that took some pressure off, too. On top of it all, our insurance was better, so when the cancer came back, we were able to do whatever we could. In the end, though,” he said sadly, “she didn’t make it. But that time I got to spend with her because of the job opportunity from Saint, well, there’s just no way that money could ever buy those precious memories.”
Pam looked across the table at the man, and her heart flooded.
“I can see in yo’ eyes how much you loved that woman.” I wonder what it would feel like to be loved that deep? “She was lucky to have a good man like you.” She dropped her head, then looked back at him. “I ain’t known you but for a minute, but in my old age, Gaspar, I know good folk from bad folk. You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, Pam, but I was the one who was lucky. I sure do miss Kathleen, but I’m happy she’s no longer suffering. So, uh, let’s change the topic to something a bit cheerier.”
“All right, sounds good.” Pam crossed her arms and leaned onto the table.
“You said on the phone that you don’t live here now. You’re just visiting?” He picked up his tea and took a sip.
“Yeah, just a visit. See, Xenia and I are real close. We miss each other and sometimes she gets homesick. But, she can’t come home whenever she wants to. She gotta family. It’s easier for me to just come to her if the visit is going to be longer than a few days. Since I set my own hours at the hair salon, and I only work part time because I’m partially retired, it’s easy for me to take off. And obviously I ain’t got no husband, and my kids are grown. My son Ira just got back from the army and my daughters are established.”
“My son is still living in San Diego. So, when do you think you’ll be going back?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Soon, probably. I was supposed to only be here a couple of weeks, but Xenia keeps finding excuses for me to stay longer. My daughter is pretty independent, but she’s been a bit clingy lately. Her anxiety is up. She’s worried about Saint. I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’ve said too much.” She grabbed her tea and took a gulp, wishing she could take the words back.
“No, it’s fine. Why is she worried about him?”
“Well, I really don’t know. I guess you could call it women’s intuition, not really sure. Between you and me, I think it’s all in her head. I think she’s starting menopause. That makes some women show they ass, too, and I don’t mean pull they damn pants down. Though I sure did when I was in the throes of it ’cause the shit makes you hot as hell! I ripped all my damn clothes off one time and stood butt naked in my backyard and dared a mothafucka to say some shit to me!”
The man practically choked on his drink. “Yes, my wife experienced it, too. I felt very bad for her.”
Just then, their food came and was set before them.
“May I get you anything else, ma’am?” the waitress asked.
Pam looked her plate over with a discriminatory eye.
“Yeah, I need some cut up onion and tomatoes, pickled peppers and hot sauce, seasoned salt and some soft butter for this cornbread, too. Not those hard ass globs y’all like to give folks, the kind that seem like they’ve been sittin’ in the deep freezer for 40 days and 40 nights. Oh, and get another plate to bring on ova here. I need this fine gentleman to try some of this right here!” She grinned wide as she inhaled the delicious aromas. “Got himself some damn waffles! You don’t know what you missin’, Gaspar. Boy, this smells good. Put that breakfast food down!” The waitress laughed.
“Sure, I will check on that for you and bring out another plate. I don’t know if we have any tomatoes diced up or anything but I’ll check. Sir, do you need some syrup for your waffles?”
“He don’t need it!” Pam waved her hand in the man’s direction. “He got me tonight, and I’m sweet enough!”
They all burst out laughing as she cast the handsome devil a wink from across the table…
Saint had made some changes to the red room.
Back in Los Angeles, their red room had their favorite assortment of naughty bells and whistles: black, shiny dresser drawers full of clanking chains, mouth gags, a mixed variety of lubricants, a couple of braided whips, black and white feathers, massage lotions, silk and satin black and red blindfolds, vibrators, dildos, anal plugs, assorted toys, and all of their typical delights. But as Saint got older, Xenia took note that his kink factor increased. This room had an industrial type dance pole, a swing with specially crafted features he had hand designed, and other fare that made her stop and cum in her tracks.
Unlike many ot
her wives, she didn’t watch her husband’s desire for her decrease over time due to age and the slowing of the male libido. No, it was as if Saint drank testosterone shots for breakfast. The bastard was like a sexual Benjamin Button. Now, in New York, he ensured that all of their favorite odds and ends were included, and then some. They would have infrequent trysts in the room that required their fingerprint identification to even open the doors. The last thing either wanted was for the children to discover their little hideaway. The space was soundproofed, and being occasional, these flings in the crimson den of delights were quite special. He led her inside the dark enclosure, the place smelling of warm leather and wood.
The hard, heavy footsteps of her mate gave her chills as he moved behind her, as if on the prowl. Just like in his office when he’d crushed objects with his bare hands that should have required a jackhammer to destroy, she could feel his energy all around her, choking her, threatening to make her cum all over herself. The man’s essence was thick and heavy, strangling her bravado, forcing her pussy to clamp and shudder as trickles of excitement collected between her thighs. Her eyes widened when a sudden red glow filled the enclosure. But red smoke soon blinded her vision. The beats of “Sex Room” by Ludacris, featuring Trey Songz, boomed through the strategically placed speakers. Xenia leaned back against the barricade, raising a leg to place her foot against the wall.
He was coming…
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
She bit her lip when his warm breath danced against her ear, pressing her eyes closed when the feeling of being hunted washed over her. He was her wolf, her predator. The beast had found her … cornered her … and now it was too late. A black shadow was he—big, imposing, territorial…
He licked the side of her neck long and hard, making her quake, and his rigid, naked form pressed possessively against her. Spreading her arms wide open, he crushed her lips in a sensual kiss. She caressed his jaw as they worked their tongues around one another’s, the intensity budding with each oral twist and turn.
