Asira Awakens

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Asira Awakens Page 10

by Chevelle Allen


  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “When you’re turned on, your ears get bright red.”

  “Really?”

  “Then the red moves to your neck until your whole face is flushed.”

  “Ahhh… so you’re teasing me?”

  “I didn’t know that happened to… never mind.”

  “No need to refrain now. What were you going to say?”

  “I’ve never had sex with a white man before, okay? You get really, really pink! Makes sense I guess… with all that blood rushing to places!” She giggled.

  “You’re just noticing?”

  “No. I’m just saying something about it,” she quipped.

  “So, I have the distinct pleasure of being a first.”

  “Petty much!” She chuckled. “What about you? Am I the first black woman you’ve slept with?”

  “No.” He grinned.

  “Really?”

  “But you are the first American.”

  “Let me guess, you sexed some island beauty.”

  “The world is full of beautiful women of every hue.” He laughed.

  “And just how many have seen your ears turn red?“

  He laughed even harder. She missed his throaty laugh and dimpled broad smile, even if it was at her expense.

  “Let’s just say when I was a younger man, I was only alone if I chose to be.”

  “Hmmm, I’ll bet.”

  “I’m surprised to learn I’m the first white man you’ve been intimate with. Surely men of every persuasion are attracted to you.”

  “I’ve only had four lovers in my life… before you.”

  He looked at her truly baffled by her comment. Deborah was thirty. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “Not at all… but you realize you’re a natural!”

  She playfully punched his side.

  “Since you’ve raised the issue, is being involved with me going to be a problem?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  The reality was being involved with her could be very problematic… but not for the reasons she was articulating.

  “Honestly, I’m more concerned about our economic differences than racial,” she added.

  “Why?”

  “You fly in private jets, I fly economy coach if I fly at all. You’re used to things I only read about.”

  “Deborah, do I strike you as the kind of man who’d care about things like that?”

  “You were pretty conspicuous when we first met. The private security, chauffeur, the whole scene gave the impression of a man who cares about those things.”

  “It was necessary at the time.”

  “Still, you were born into a kind of privilege I’ll never know.”

  “My privileges enable certain protections and access… that’s true.”

  “What about your colleagues… your friends? What will they think?”

  “I really don’t care. You’re a remarkably intelligent woman with an indescribable essence. It’s what makes you beautiful… in addition to your physical attributes. Everyone with whom I associate will see it and understand my feelings for you.”

  Deborah got very quiet contemplating everything Ben said. “And what are those feelings?”

  He rolled to his side pulling her closer and looking deeply into her eyes. “They’re beyond comprehension.”

  Whatever lingering doubt she had about the pace of their relationship dissipated. Rather than speak, she delicately touched the side of Ben’s face and smiled. Marveling at this man sharing more than just her bed, she traced fine lines around eyes that deepened when he laughed or gave her a naughty glance. She noticed every tiny freckle. Running her fingers through his hair, she smoothed it back until it framed his face. Looking at him, he seemed peaceful and immensely happy. The expression on his face reflected the joy permeating her soul. She wanted this feeling forever…

  Closing his eyes, he relished her fingers lightly moving across his nose, lips, chin, and through his hair. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm breathing in the subtle scent emanating from her. How is it he had become so enthralled? How is it two strangers had become so entangled? Why after one hundred years in human forms, he finally experienced this level of enchantment and bliss? Deborah not only fulfilled his human yearnings but also touched his true essence, his inner being.

  “I don’t want to scare you,” she whispered, “but being with you feels like fate.“

  He sighed deeply and said, “I don’t believe in fate.”

  “That’s probably the most cynical thing I’ve heard you say.”

  Sensing her discomfort, he added, “Is it cynical to believe we are the creators of our own destiny?”

  “That depends.”

  “Your idea of fate assumes things happen as they were designed. What happens is solely based on what we choose to embrace, whatever path. This is of our own making, as are the outcomes… and I choose you, Deborah Brooks.”

  His unexpected words were followed by a soft kiss as he pressed his body against hers. Rolling onto her back, she guided him to move on top of her.

  “You choose me?” she asked coquettishly.

  “Every glorious bit of you,” he said with heavier breath.

  The slight pulse of his penis between her legs signaled he was finished talking. There were far more pressing matters on Ben’s mind. The feel of his tongue running along her neck caused her breathing to quicken. Those sparkling blue eyes darkened as they focused on her face and eyes. His body warmed the more his hands eased up and down the sides of her hips.

  “You ears are getting red,” she whispered with a playful grin.

  Grinding his pelvis against hers, he said, “It’s not my ears that should be drawing your attention.”

  She gasped when he thrust himself inside her. My God, she thought as her head eased back into the pillow. Up on his palms staring down at her, his penetrations became far more purposeful. Deep insertions were followed by slowly pulling out before plunging further. His eyes became steel gray, and his face was completely flushed. The intensity in his lustful gaze enhanced her desires. Reaching up and stroking the side of his face, she wanted his lips on hers. Obliging her, he leaned over kissing her. His tongue sought hers as it swirled in her mouth. He then gripped her wrists and held them over her head, pinning her down.

  This new display of physical prowess turned her on even more. Writhing under him, Deborah moved her hips in synch with his. When he withdrew again, she squeezed tightly creating greater friction against his tender flesh. Clearly enjoying what she’d done, he lingered there, closed his eyes, and exhaled before plunging once more. Repeating the exchange a few more times, his orgasm was near.

  Feeling her passions mounting, her back arched as ecstasy engulfed her. But he didn’t stop. Ben’s thrusts became more demanding and urgent as his pace quickened. With eyes closed, she could feel the heat emanating from of him including the glorious flesh moving in and out of her. Finally, he began groaning loudly with each hungry, powerful thrust when another rapturous wave hit her.

  “Open your eyes.” He panted heavily.

  Her amber eyes met his. In them, it was as if he saw a million suns reflecting back at him. He’d never known such extraordinary pleasure.

  CHAPTER 14

  After a weekend spent mostly in bed, Deborah was surprised to find Ben in the kitchen making a light breakfast for her. He was already dressed and awaiting the arrival of the car to take him to the DAC. She offered to take him, but he refused knowing it took her further into downtown. They kissed goodbye, and he was out the door.

  During the drive in, she pondered how best to tell Megan about what was happening. She’d practiced what to say several times, but the anxiety didn’t wane when she tapped on her door.

  �
�Good morning, Megan. You got a minute?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Deborah closed the door and sat down across from Megan composing her thoughts. She truly hoped the conversation didn’t erupt into another unpleasant exchange.

  Megan carefully removed her reading glasses and set them on her desk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to talk to you about Ben Stewart.”

  Megan leaned back in her chair with a very concerned look on her face. “I’m listening.”

  “My relationship with him isn’t over. In fact, it’s become quite serious.”

  “How serious?”

  “Very. He’s back in the country and staying with me. I’m telling you because of concerns you expressed last month.”

  Megan sought out Deborah’s face as if she were trying to find the right words to say or advice to give. Then her expression softened. “He must be quite a man beyond the obvious.”

  “He is.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “I think it’s a little early to use a word like that.”

  Megan chuckled. “When I met Steven, he was this incredibly funny guy who was sweet and self-effacing. He also had the biggest heart always wanting to do for others. It didn’t take long to know he was the love of my life. We only waited a year to get married to plan the wedding.”

  “You guys were fresh out of college. I’m… not.”

  “Deborah, my point is I’ve known you for five years. You’re this totally together person who’s focused and doesn’t take a step without calculating all the possibilities. If Ben Stewart has touched you so deeply that you’ve thrown all of that out the window, it’s got to be love. And love doesn’t need timetables. It just is. Be thankful for this incredible and amazing gift. Not everyone gets it… so cherish it.”

  Deborah was deeply moved by Megan’s words knowing she’d lost Steven during his last combat tour in Afghanistan.

  “I’ve never known any man—hell, any person— who makes me feel all the things I feel for him.” She paused for a moment reflecting on her words, then added, “But he is our donor. I don’t want things to be unnecessarily complicated. That’s why I’m telling you.”

  “I appreciate it. In spite of what happened, know you have my full support… both professionally and personally. I should’ve said it sooner, and I’m sorry.”

  “I should be the one apologizing. It was all happening so fast… and so damn confusing… I should’ve told you from the beginning.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “My protective side would’ve told you to steer clear of him. Then you might not have gone out with him. And then you wouldn’t be in my office gushing about the charming Englishman who’s captured your heart!” Megan teased.

  “I’m not gushing.”

  “Oh, you’re gushing!” She laughed.

  All Deborah could do was giggle. “Maybe I am!”

  “Listen, I may be your boss now, but I’ll always be your friend even when we disagree. Please don’t forget that.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Slipping her glasses back on, Megan changed subjects slightly. “So, are things still progressing at a good clip with the Dubois Collection?”

  “Yes. I’m finished with all the prayer books and started on Father Willem’s third diary.”

  “Nothing gut-wrenching or vomit-inducing, I hope.”

  “No, it’s actually fascinating.”

  “How so?”

  “The first two diaries are really about Father Willem’s life in seminary and his first parish assignment in a small city in Belgium. But he lobbies to go on a mission in the Congo. Truthfully, he got far more than he bargained for.”

  “This is when he met Dr. Stanley and the others?”

  “Yes. I’m up to the part where he’s befriended one of the workers, a man named Sese. Through him, Willem is beginning to understand the spiritual beliefs of the Bakongo people.”

  “That does sound fascinating.”

  “It is. The more he interacts with the Bakongo, the more he’s coming to appreciate their devotion and fortitude under horrific conditions.”

  “Have you told Ben about this?”

  “Some of it. He really wants to come in and go through the papers with me, but I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I thought it might be easier if I simply sent him encrypted files of my translations. I can batch everything weekly. It keeps the items as protected as he wants, eliminates any weirdness around here, and I can get my work done without his distractions.”

  “His distractions, huh?” Megan laughed even harder.

  “Well… yeah!”

  “It sounds like a good solution to me. If he’s fine with it, I say go for it. He set the restrictions, he can certainly modify them,” Megan said.

  “Do we need his term modifications in writing?”

  “You tell me.”

  “There really isn’t a protocol for something like this, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “I trust your judgment. Just make a note of it in the files.”

  “I appreciate that. I’d better get back to it. Is the offer still open for lunch?” Deborah asked.

  “I’m tied up this week, but I could do drinks after work.”

  “I want to keep my evenings free while he’s here.”

  “I completely understand. Let’s try lunch next week, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan!”

  Deborah returned to her work area. Delving back into the diary, she was immediately enthralled with the ensuing passages. Some were beautifully descriptive with an almost lyrical quality. Within them, it was becoming increasingly clear Father Willem was having a transformation of his own. In addition to expressing his outrage to the head priest about atrocious actions committed against the Bakongo, he was also learning more about their specific deities and practices. Often he tried to compare them to Catholicism, but the mysticism involved left him uneasy. He was beginning to believe the Devil was trying to lead him astray from the one true faith.

  Sese invited me to a ceremony honoring a god they believe responsible for the riches of the earth. Namely, all gemstones, iron, gold, and the like were placed in the ground for them. They believe they are being punished because they have not stopped the invaders (our kind) from greedily taking their riches. Another they worship supposedly bestows wisdom and enlightenment. Sese says they must make amends before their gods will assist.

  Invited to yet another ceremony, Willem wrote:

  To recount what I have witnessed would be regarded by most as the ranting of a madman. I have seen the impossible. A grand gathering of souls amassed deep in a forest’s clearing. With faces covered in hideous masks, religious men chanted around the lavish altar laden with the latest harvests and slaughter. Every man, woman, and child danced to the thunderous drums, which surely reached the Force Publique. I could feel every strike of the drum and smell intoxicating aromas in my very soul.

  As the proceedings continued, a man and woman were placed in the center with not a shred of clothing! Within moments of this, they danced at a frantic pace with the most lascivious movements. Soon both levitated high off the ground! I thought my eyes were betraying me. I stood to my feet yelling out, but none seemed to hear or care about my pleas. I truly feared for their mortal souls… as well as my own. For surely this is the work of Satan himself.

  Deborah imagined how confusing the scene must have been. The prejudices of the time wouldn’t allow Willem to consider what he saw as anything but demonic. She chuckled thinking he’d be equally lost if he attended an American evangelical or holiness church! Continuing to read and translate, she learned Willem secluded himself for weeks seeking absolution. But it was clear he changed from the experience. Clinging to the hope he could reaffirm his beliefs, it was proving beyond difficult.

  By the end of the day, the thi
rd diary was finally cataloged and translated. Deborah carefully placed it back on the metal rolling cart and entered the last of her notes. She then pulled up all the files she’d input in the past month into a secure backup file on the laptop. She encrypted it with a secure passcode. Using the University’s Virtual Private Network, she transmitted sensitive data with minimal worries of hacking or file corruption. After uploading the files, she sent a copy of everything to Ben who was conducting his business from the DAC.

  He’d been at the Detroit Athletic Club for the better part of the day. The time difference with London was inconvenient, but not unmanageable. Communicating with Marian throughout, she sent one file after another before heading home. Reviewing the last of his messages, he had one from the investigative team he’d charged with getting information about Deborah’s adoption. He immediately placed the call.

  “Mr. Stewart, we’re still working on your request. The subject’s background is taking a bit more time to uncover than expected. Before incurring any additional expense, we…”

  “The expense is not an issue,” Ben said curtly.

  “We have a team heading to the Caribbean and United States.”

  “Your details are inconsequential. Your results, however, are.”

  “Understood, sir. We’ll be in touch again.”

  “And hopefully with the information I’ve requested.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben used the agency many times. Their expertise led him to the Dubois Papers. They were always extremely discreet and highly skilled. Most were former MI-6 operatives with a few lawyers thrown in for good measure. Whatever additional details about Deborah’s birth parents and early childhood, they’d find— eventually. At worse, they’d come back with what she concluded herself—she’d been abandoned. Ben truly hoped he could help her get the answers she’d searched so long to find.

  Nearing five-thirty, he placed a quick call to her.

 

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