Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Belvin, Love

  Again, I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Mmmmmmm…hmmmm!” she moaned.

  On that note, I started digging back in. I stroked and stroked and stroked. For every stroke, she met me with a thrust. We kept at it until I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to let it loose. Goose bumps had risen across my body and my heart rate increased simultaneously. It seemed as though Rayna instinctively knew when I was climaxing. She increased her movements, tightened her inner walls, and gripped my body. The woman was handling her business. I lost control for a minute, lost myself in her. My few seconds of ecstasy seemed to have lasted a lifetime as I exploded inside of her.

  Once I was able to regain myself, I let up off her and laid there staring at the ceiling. She laid there with me for a few minutes in silence. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but I enjoyed the agreeable silence as well. After a while, she got up and walked out of the room. Rayna returned soon after with a cold bottle of water. She handed it to me, “You have to be thirsty.”

  “Yeah, I am. Thank you.” She had bedside manners. I could get used to this.

  Chapter 10

  Azmir

  Things were moving in a new direction in my life. I wasn’t willing to bet my last on Rayna but I damn sure was eager to ride it out. I had to admit there was something quite intriguing about this woman. I had new business ventures, new money, and a new prospective companion. Life was looking sweet.

  Little did I know, in an office in Sacramento, there was a conversation being had about my associates and me.

  James Lombardi

  “Damn it, Lombardi, you had better be 100% on this or it’s your ass!” Dave Munick, the head of Major Crimes of the California Bureau of Investigations howled as he slammed the file he’d just previewed on the table of the bull room.

  “Captain, if I had any doubts about this I wouldn’t serve it to you on a silver platter. The head of the Division of Juvenile Justice is corrupt and is at the helm of a multi-million dollar illegal drug operation. In this file there is ironclad proof that we have reason to open an investigation,” Jim Lombardi pleaded.

  Lombardi is a forty-plus year-old veteran with a superior record of closing cases new and cold. He’s been bounced around Southern California because of his reputation of playing by his own rules. A handsome Italian, James stood six feet tall and was about two hundred and ten pounds with jet-black hair, and thick, dark eyebrows with a killer smile to top it off. He was unmarried because of his love affair with the job. James had a strange moral compass, he screwed many women including the clerks and secretaries his unit employed—but he hated crooked cops.

  “Sergeant, Daryl Harrison and I go way back to training. He and his family attended my kid’s Sweet Sixteen. We attended each other’s anniversary dinners. We go to the same retirement parties. Not to mention, he’s one of a few minorities in authority. Do you know what that means? NAACP on this Bureau’s ass…then the Chief on my ass! I am not shanking the man just to satisfy your itching balls. Understand?” Captain Munick scolded with a red face and gasping for air.

  “And what? Do we let a fraudulent peer run rampant in our judicial system? What ever happened to prosecuting criminals of all vocations? This fellow-officer manipulates young, vulnerable, cast-aside, tainted, felons into furthering his distorted conquests as a drug kingpin. He had a police officer killed in Brooklyn, New York twenty-five years ago to satisfy his insatiable need for power and money. He then befriends the man’s family, moves the family away under the guise of support, and annihilates the wife to isolate the son. He has the mother arrested on some trumped up charges—” Lombardi was interrupted.

  “She sold drugs according to your report, Sergeant…” Munick interjected.

  “Yes, she did but his drugs. She was set up. Ultimately, he did this so that he could use a poor kid to peddle his drugs while he wears a badge of law. That kid now is at the helm of a major drug operation…one of the largest in the country.” Lombardi paused in hopes of having proven his case. He didn’t get the response he had hoped for so he continued.

  “Captain, I am willing to risk my career on this. Now, we may not be able to get every bad cop in this great Sunshine State but we can get Harrison.”

  Munick gave James a deep apprehensive gaze, “Why us? Why the CBI? Isn’t this something for Internal Affairs or FBI?”

  “Eventually we’ll have to transfer this over for federal charges but right now it belongs to Major Case because there was a murder involved and the overall complexity of this case. My guy in the 88th Precinct, back in Brooklyn, tells me that Harrison has been suspected in the murder of a fellow officer, Dasu Jacobs in a drug feud. He’s a monster, Captain!”

  Munick gave a deep sigh before saying, “Sergeant Lombardi, I will sign off on a discreet, low priority, preliminary investigation. And I will give you one month to produce adhesive evidence. If nothing comes about, I expect your Request for Transfer on my desk immediately following this thirty-day period. Understood?”

  Lombardi exhaled deeply before resting his index finger on the conference room table across from his superior and said, “Completely, sir!”

  Munick was a short time away from retiring and didn’t want to leave labeled as disloyal. He wanted to be respected for all the thirty-plus years he put on the job. “This undescended-testicle little pisser isn’t going to tarnish my reputation just because he’s jonsin’ for a high profile case!” he thought to himself.

  He only took Jim, as he was affectionately referred to, into his unit to cut him a break. He remembered being that green, nose-in-the-air, justice-will-be-done, bring-down-the-bad-guy-at-all-costs type of cop. Munick thought that with a little patience and time he could sketch the reality of being an officer of the law in Southern California. He saw the good in Lombardi. Hell, he even pitied him to some degree, no one wanted to work with the guy. He was three times divorced and had no family to speak of. This Bureau was his life.

  Munick didn’t think Lombardi would dig up much but gave him the green light thinking this was an opportunity to impress upon him humility.

  “Brief me on the details of this investigation so far,” Munick requested in acquiesce.

  Lombardi produced a knowing grin as he began opening his notes. He couldn’t hide his exult as he peered upon his Captain.

  Munick was a sixty-two-year-old with salt and peppered hair and huge beer belly, from a small town right outside of Seattle. He’s maintained a fairly decent reputation among his peers but Lombardi felt that he had gotten too soft, too banal in practice. This is a solid case and he knows it, is what Munick believed and would prove to him.

  “Well, here’s the other piece. We’re not the only office looking into this, sir. Major Case in New York has opened an investigation already. They’ve released a woman by the name of Yazmine Jacobs from Sing Sing in Ossining, New York. She’s the wife of Dasu Jacobs and mother of a suspected drug lord named Azmir Divine Jacobs. Harrison had her hunted down in Chicago on trumped up charges of drug trafficking. New York says he did this to corner the Jacobs’ boy who was then around fourteen or fifteen years old so that he can coach him into the drug game,” Lombardi explained.

  “No shit…” commented Munick as he rubbed his chin the way he does when his mind is roiling.

  “This is serious, Captain. Now we need to focus our investigation on Azmir as well. He is connected to Harrison and it is believed that they’re partners. So far, I haven’t been able to pin anything on him. He has no criminal record to speak of. He was arrested twice as a juvie in Chicago for car theft and aggravated assault, but never charged or incarcerated as an adult. Those juvie records have been expunged, but I pulled some strings to have them dug up. I believe Harrison attempted to have them wiped out as part of his plan.

  “Yazmine was arrested while he was in school. According to his high school guidance counselor, no one knew of his mother’s disappearance. She recalls his dad coming to school to sign him in after a string of excessive absences. The
problem is Azmir’s father died before they moved to Illinois. I’m sure it was Harrison. He moved Azmir to L.A. after he graduated high school. Azmir went to Stanford for three years…even maintained a 3.8 grade point average before dropping out. According to the IRS, he’s been paying taxes on businesses for the past ten years. He owns approximately twelve businesses…small and large. He keeps his nose clean on the surface but I’m going in deep to find his dirt.” Lombardi wouldn’t take a breath, he kept pouring his evidence down Munick’s throat.

  “Yazmine has been released from Sing Sing under the condition she helps New York find evidence to convict Harrison of the death of her husband. And sir, from what I hear, Azmir doesn’t even know his mother is alive. She hasn’t seen or heard from him since he was about fifteen years old,” Lombardi continued to brief.

  Munick took another long pause as he grew intrigued by this information on the case. He knew however, that he didn’t want to be attached to a failed attempt to bring down a law enforcement brother’s career. “Thirty days, Lombardi…3-0!” he said as he rose from the table and exited the boardroom.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Rayna

  “So my first time with Azmir was good,” I lied to Michelle at Ole’ Café in Santa Monica. I’d just finished giving her the low down the Monday following Azmir’s birthday. My time with Azmir was far from good—try extraordinary, in spite the awkwardness of the power struggle.

  “Oooh! And you came twice?!” Michelle sat enchanted with dreamy eyes. “That sounds more than good, woman!”

  I sighed to myself as I tried to maintain an impassive tone and expression. I was still trying to process that sexual control that I tried to assert to a resistant dominant lover like Azmir.

  “No, three times. I couldn’t tell you how out of control I felt.” My voice dropped, “I’ve never had orgasms like that.” I never meant for that one to escape my thoughts.

  “What do you mean?” her forehead furrowed.

  I hated that I walked right into this with Michelle. Sex wasn’t a sensitive topic for me in general, but orgasms were. I rubbed my forehead with gripping pressure.

  “You know…I’ve never had a vaginal orgasm, much less two.”

  My mumble was far more defeated than I intended. I’d been having not so good thoughts about my new relationship with Azmir. I felt overwhelmingly captivated by this man who I didn’t hold a title to. What was worse is that it actually mattered to me.

  “And you said he’s hung like a horse?” Michelle squeaked. I sighed internally realizing that my slip up had gone over her head. Thank God for small favors.

  “Girl, I thought that shit was going to slap me in the face.” I couldn’t help it as we burst in laughter like two schoolgirls.

  “I think you guys fell in love that night!” Michelle eyes danced with passion and romantic optimism.

  I sucked my teeth and waved her off with my hand. She had started going astrological on me. I didn’t subscribe to that celestial bullshit.

  “No…really, Na-Na! He’s a Gemini…you’re a Cancer. It was inevitable!” she shouted. Again, here was when she went valley girl on me. “There was too much sexual energy between you two. I don’t know when Azmir’s last sexual experience was, but yours was so ancient that I didn’t think you’d remember what parts of the body were involved to do it. And why didn’t you suck that big cock?” she demanded with humor.

  After a good, laugh at her expense, I said, “It isn’t the time for that, Shelly. I don’t know him like that and certainly didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.”

  “Sex is sex, Na-Na! People like you take it too seriously. You two have been waiting to tear each other apart since that night at Cobalt. Why not satisfy every sexual act?” she preached and I wasn’t taken aback. Michelle had her views on sexual conduct and I held my own contrasting beliefs.

  “And risk my self-respect with him?” I challenged.

  “Trust me…it would have been so great, he would’ve called you Queen of Sheba from that day on!” she giggled to herself.

  This is where Michelle and I differed. There are those guys you use for sex to release tension and unleash that freak inside. And then there are those that come around carrying the potential of offering more than a night of ecstasy. Azmir made me feel things that night and brought out things that I didn’t know was possible but I also felt he was more than that one experience.

  “Okay, so where does this put you guys?” Michelle eyed me quizzically.

  I let out a lungful exhale. I didn’t want to be reminded of that newly arrived and obscure place for us. While I understood there was no commitment between Azmir and me, I certainly didn’t view him as just a magic stick.

  “Sex with him doesn’t solidify a relationship, so I guess I’ll continue with life as usual.” I tried to sound convincing, but deep inside I was sulking.

  “Just remember—” she attempted before I interrupted.

  “Shelly, I know. I’m keeping an open mind.”

  She looked at me with a forlorn smile. “You’re going to be alright, girlfriend.” She stroked the side of my face in endearment. She conveniently changed the subject by saying, “I can’t get over the celebrities that were there that night!”

  We continued our conversation with talks of Azmir’s birthday bash and didn’t revisit the topic of my sex life and befuddling dating status. We left the café and I returned to work. When I entered the practice reception area, I asked Sharon for my messages. She handed me three. I quickly decided none were from anyone I wanted to speak to right away so I jumped right into my next appointment who was a college student that was injured while horsing around with his fellow drunken buddies. As I was examining his soleous muscle to see if it was responding to the treatment I’d prescribed, I noticed how muscular he was. I thought to myself, His sexual stamina must be at its peak. That thought immediately took me to Azmir. I couldn’t help but to think about that night with him. He served it up so generously, dispelling my original fear of him being a five-minute brother. He was so gentle and intense.

  The orgasms he delivered were so unexpected; it was unraveling. Shit. I ran from one of them! That was the awkward part of our experience. When I tried to regain control of our sexual excursion and he wouldn’t allow it. After the first vaginal orgasm, for some strange reason, I was frightened. The last thing I expected was euphoric sensations of a vaginal orgasm. My plan was to work him over, not for him to have my toes curling with explosions detonating from my core. It scared the shit out of me! So, when the first one was over I tried like hell to savage control so it wouldn’t happen again. As much as I’d enjoyed it—and now look forward to it to happening again—I hate surprises, especially in such a private manner. Azmir wasn’t hearing any part of it. It wasn’t that he was aggressive per se, he just didn’t agree to my control.

  I could never share this with Michelle, she’d have my ass on a pitch fork. And when he went down on me—my goodness…the things he did with that tongue! When he went into my vaginal canal, he did some type of flapping number and butterflied his extending tongue to reach my walls!

  I felt myself getting aroused at the memory of it all.

  “Ahhhhhh!” my patient, Brian, cried.

  Damn! I over-extended his flexor tendon.

  “Have you been bending your knee and leaning forward? Remember that is to increase the knee flexion,” I quizzed trying to cover up for my mind drifting off to naughty land.

  Though I apologized, I blamed him by scolding him for not doing what I asked. I knew it was wrong but—hey!

  “I’ve been doing a little,” he strained to speak.

  “You need to hold for between ten and thirty seconds.”

  I had become so randy that my clitoris was throbbing. I needed a release…I needed Azmir. While I busied Brian by having him flex and straighten his leg, I paged Sharon.

  “Sharon, do I have any messages?”

  “Mr. Jacobs actually called since you’ve been in w
ith your patient. He had something delivered for you. It’s in your office,” Sharon informed me.

  “Oh…okay.” Excitement exploded in my belly and I shivered at the mention of his name. What has he done? The remainder of that session was nothing short of torture as it seemed to last an eternity.

  I walked into my office to find the area across from my desk transformed into a dining setting for one. It was unmistakably a private dining set-up with a tablecloth, a small vase filled with flowers, and one china plate covered by a metal salver, wine glass, one cloth napkin, two forks, a knife, and spoon. There was a candle lit with a card waiting for me. I walked over to the desk and picked up the phone to summons Sharon.

  When she came in, I fired off questions about the surprise waiting for me. She explained that it was from Azmir, which was the only reason she permitted them in my office. She assured me she supervised the set up that took less than five minutes.

  I dismissed her and sat down to open the card that was typed:

  The Most Delectable Ms. Brimm,

  Regrettably, I’m not there to express my thanks for such an extraordinary birthday. I have a meeting in Atlanta. Nonetheless, one delicious dish deserves a gourmet meal.

  Let me know what you think about the food. I’m auditioning this chef for a job.

  Call me.

  A.D. Jacobs

  My heartbeat increased and the tips of my fingers began to prickle. I removed the salver from the plate to find a wonderfully aromatic and succulent looking steak with a lobster tail, russet potatoes, and asparagus. Next to the plate was a description card of the meal that revealed the steak was fillet mignon. My stomach began to growl from the tang.

  I went for my cell phone to call Azmir and he answered on the second ring.

  “Is the steak melting in your mouth like butter? Were you able to slice right through it?” Azmir’s voice never failed to do things to me. Damn.

  “Ummmm…I haven’t had any yet,” I muttered, embarrassingly.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? A man’s livelihood is depending on you feasting well on that meal.”