The Chase I (Double XX Book 1)

by Xyla Turner

  What?

  Badgering the help.

  I would never.

  “The help? What are we in the 1950’s or something? Calling people the help. You have a lot of nerve. I would never badger anyone,” I responded.

  “Coulda’ fooled me,” he said with another smirk.

  Okay, I have had about enough of this stupid Gala and the annoying men. I opened my mouth to tell him where he could go, while I stood up to make my exit.

  Mr. Aroma moved in closer, turning my bar stool around to the side, so his front was to my right side, but my twisted torso was facing him. He finally let my wrists go, but put his hands on the bar on both sides of me, thus caging me in with his body. I watched him in shock as he descended down to my ear and whispered, “I’m just saying, that’s what it would look like, not that he did not deserve it. I’ve already reported to his superior about his poor disposition, especially when he is serving non-alcoholic drinks.”

  I stopped breathing. He must have noticed it too because he continued, “I was being proactive.”

  He leaned back, his face coming into full view and smiled.

  Wow.

  “I was also trying to get your eye, before all the festivities started and before anyone else attempted to vie for your attention.”

  What? I looked at him in shock. He grinned and I could see his pretty white teeth. Oh my, what a beautiful smile. If this man did not back away soon, we would both be in trouble.

  “I’m calm, thanks,” I say breathlessly.

  He steps back, putting his hands up in surrender, “Good, then my job is done.” Then he left.

  What?

  Well, damn.

  Whatever.

  I was ready to go home at that point and call Kevin up again because my panties were soaked. I had only been there fifteen minutes and all of that drama went down. I turned around to see the bartender at the end of the bar looking very pale, while someone dressed in a nice tux was reaming him out. Loudly.

  Hmm.

  I took my water and headed over to my designated table as a chime was played throughout the event space. Mingling was apparently over and the main event was about to start. I found my table and sat in the spot where my name has been etched on a place card. Nobody else was at the table, so I reached for my iPhone, securely tucked away in the clutch. It was only 8:03 PM, which meant we had another two hours before everything would be wrapped up.

  I audibly sigh.

  Why do I subject myself to these social events, knowing that I won’t have any fun?

  I go through these whims every few months, when I realize I am alone, the only people that are consistently around include my students and staff. Therefore, I need to get out more if I intend to meet anyone else besides Kevin. Not that anyone would meet my stringent criteria and if they did, there is no guarantee that they would be interested in me. Oh wait, that is called low self-esteem. That is what my life coach told me one day. Well, it is true and I have had low self-esteem from the age of 14 to 33, to know that not many people that I am interested reciprocate those feelings in a fruitful or productive way. They usually wanted to have just sex. Now, I was having sex on a regular basis and still not happy.

  I am educated enough to know that I am out of certain men’s bracket. This is not conceit, it is simply facts. I am a 5’7, curvy, brown-skinned black woman with brown hair and auburn highlights, two Masters’ degrees, and depending on the situation, a presence that can call attention and a face that said, ‘I don’t have time for this’. I call it my city face. I am from Washington, DC, what do people expect? In order to survive there where I grew up, you needed to learn the art of the ‘don’t mess with me’ look. You need to look like, “You dare somebody to mess with you because that would just bring out the crazy in you.” It’s not the ugly look, but it’s also does not scream, “Hey, I’m cute and funny, ask me for my number” either. I have tried to work on this look for years now, but usually when I am in unfamiliar territory, it slips back on. Recently, the look has been coined as the ‘bitch resting face.’

  After checking my email, I posted that I was at the 15th Annual Gala for New York Educators on my personal Facebook page and school page. A few minutes later, two ladies came up to the table, found their names and switched their place cards, so they are sitting together. Why didn’t I think of that? I surely did not want to sit with my back towards the crowd. The ladies greeted me and I spoke back. I sent Kevin a quick text.

  My place @ 11 – bring the lube. X

  As I rose to get up to switch my name tag, someone came from behind me and grabbed my elbow. The ladies stopped talking to look at me. I started to turn around because this would be twice someone had made the decision to lay their hands on me. This time I was not angry, but I did want to make it clear that this sort of behavior was unacceptable. Mid-turn, I smelled the aroma.

  My goodness.

  “Leaving so soon,” I felt his breath on my ear.

  I stood and turned fully around to find Mr. Aroma back in my personal space, but this time face-to-face, I was in 4” heels and he was still grinning down at me. So this guy had to be at least 6’5 to 6’7 because I was about 6’1 in my heels. He was stocky like a football player, with a tailored tux and deep brown eyes.

  I looked up to him and asked, “What is with you touching me and whispering in my ear?”

  He chuckled again.

  This guy had balls of steel.

  “Are you leaving so soon?” he asked again with a smile on his face.

  I looked down at my forearm that was still being held by his big hand. Returning my gaze to his gorgeous face, I replied, “Why are you touching me?”

  He made a point to look at his hand, then backed up with something that looked a lot like a determined lion’s gaze, “I make you nervous.”

  “W-what? Are you c-crazy?” I asked, stammering my words.

  He pulled me closer by my arms, bearing his face inches away from mine. I did not know what to do. D.C. had not taught me how to deal with hypnotizing men that caught me in their snares. I was usually abrasive enough to evade that sort of response. This man was good and very patient. Oh boy, I was in deep shit.

  “I make you nervous, don’t I?” he purred.

  My God, he purred.

  Abort, abort, mission abort.

  I did not know what to say. I am rarely tongue-tied, so I simply looked at him with wide eyes.

  He smiled, “I would tell you that I don’t bite, but, I do.”

  Good Lord! I think my panties were instantly wet again with that one comment.

  He leaned in further and whispered in my ear, “I see you like that.”

  I went limp at that moment. A woman’s voice was in the background saying what I was thinking. “Oh my. Look at that man. I wish he’d touch me. Isn’t he that man…?”

  I strained to hear who he was since he had not introduced himself and he did not have on a name tag. My body was being pulled closer, as he brought his mouth to my ear, “You like that?”

  No sound was made from me out loud, but I moaned in my head.

  He nipped my ear with his teeth, causing my whole body to tingle and my knees began to buckle. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to keep from falling. Then he adjusted his body so we were front-to-front, pressed tightly together against one another. My legs were compressed in between his long legs, while his arm was possessively wrapped around my back. He nipped my ear again, demanding, “Answer me.”

  Audibly, I inhaled and put my mouth to his ear, “Yes.” I whispered.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I have never in my entire life been under any sort of spell besides sleep. My panties were drenched and my goodness, I just let that man bite my ear not once, but twice in public. I was turning into a damn slut. I had to get control of this situation and fast. We were in a ballroom with my professional peers and I was being manhandled like some weak woman. I am a lot of things, but weak is not one of them.

  I unwrapped my h
ands from around his neck, then discreetly pushed him away from me. He gave me a little slack and then tighten his grip on me again. Looking at me with the same intensity as before, with heat in his eyes, he said, “We will talk later.”

  He unwrapped his arms from around me, smiled and walked away, leaving me staring at him in a state of shock. I heard someone clearing their throats in the mic, trying to get everyone’s attention by telling them to take their seats. I quickly sat down, not looking at anyone. I did not want the faces of people watching me get manhandled. When I finally took a chance to look up, my table was full of people, but the only ones looking at me were the two women who were at the table first, smiling at me like I just won the jackpot.

  Whatever.

  What I was sure of now, was that I was busting out of this place early. That was a definite. I checked my phone to see if Kevin had texted me back yet. Mr. Aroma was trouble and I already had a fuck-buddy. What I wanted was a man who would be a good husband and father to my future children. Dammit, I am getting older. I need to settle down.

  I half listened throughout the entire ceremony. My thoughts kept wandering back to Mr. Aroma and the nerve he had to touch me, grab me and bite me in public like I belonged to him. There are no wedding rings on my fingers, who in the hell did he think he was? Ludicrous.

  With thirty minutes left in the event, everyone started to clap, so I clapped. Then I saw people looking at me and smiling. Like everyone. I looked around and then to the podium, a woman with an LBD on and flawless make-up waved me up. I turned around and looked behind me to see who she was referring to because it could not have been me. The guy behind me leaned over and said, “Ms. Fuller, they called you up to the front. You have received an award.”

  The people were still clapping and the lady said, “Let’s help Ms. Fuller, she is a little shy.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God!

  This was not happening. Then, I saw Mr. Aroma stand up and whistle. Was that to encourage me? I could have crawled under the table.

  I stood and slowly walked towards the podium. I looked up to see Mr. Aroma standing near the stairs that I needed to climb, smiling at me. I kept looking at him, as he held out his hand for me to take in order to get up the four steps. Although I did not want to physically touch him, I took his hand because with those 4-inch heels, I would have surely broken my neck. After I had reached the top, I walked towards the woman as she continued to clap for me. This was not the attention that I wanted. I seriously could have died on the spot. Someone was taking pictures and I am sure this was being video recorded. The woman in front of the podium stopped clapping and quieted everyone with a signal of her hand.

  “Ms. Xena Fuller is truly an amazing woman. She has not been in New York for long, but she has made such an impact on how we do things in the educational world. When she first applied for her school’s charter, GRIT Middle, most people were against her model of culture being first and academics as a secondary solution. There was an educational notion that planning, curriculum, and teacher credentials were held to the highest standards. She convinced me and the Charter Board that if you meet a child’s basic need, then you can teach them. I do not believe there was a dry eye in that place when she presented. She did not stop there. She did what she said she was going to do.

  She started a school, connected with over 25 different community organizations and even provided career and job readiness, including computer training to the parents and community members in her school district. If you ever have time, go see the school. It’s a model that should definitely be replicated and I know that she intends to have more schools, but it’s a testament to all. While, if you ask her about these things, she would downplay her accomplishments and change the topic. She is humble, dedicated, committed, driven, and a world-changer. She thinks the test of time is her scores, but I have no doubt her students will knock them out the ballpark because they come to school, they love it, their parents love it and she has made a difference in East New York. We would be remiss if we let this award go to anyone else, except Ms. Xena Fuller. The World Changer Award encompasses all that she stands for, all that she lives and all that she will do. I look forward to seeing great things. Again, congratulations.”

  Everyone stood up to applaud. Tears were running down my cheeks as I came face-to-face with my passion and hard work being recognized by my professional peers. The lady moved from behind the podium to extend a glass award in the shape of a globe with my name and award title engraved on the base. It was simply beautiful.

  Walking towards the podium, I accepted the award and gave the lady a huge hug. She did not have a name tag on, so I did not know her name. It seemed like we were hugging forever, but eventually she let me go and signaled for me to say something. Propping the award on the podium, I breathed deep into the microphone. There was a little chuckling from the crowd.

  “Wow!” I exhaled into the mic. “I’m not really sure what to say. I’m just glad I didn’t wear a lot of makeup because after that introduction, I would surely look a little scary.”

  The audience laughed loudly, so I used this time to gather myself.

  “This is such an amazing honor and privilege to 1) be here and 2) receive this award. There are so many schools that are doing amazing things and have,” I winked, “endless pockets.”

  “So, this is such an honor for me. I hope someone is recording this, so when my kids take this test, I can play the part that said they are going to knock the state exams out the ballpark.” I said with a chuckle.

  “They need that encouragement and for people to believe in them. I laugh every day because they are so funny. They make my day and I love what I do. One day, I had the unfortunate opportunity to have a student in detention with me. He compared it to solitary confinement and commented that he thought ‘I enjoyed this.’ I told him I did enjoy my job and I actually get paid to do this. He didn’t quite find it funny, but I thought it was hilarious. I get paid to ensure the future leaders of the world learn not just their A, B, C’s, but also that they are being instilled with good character traits like integrity, responsibility, and noble leadership. I love it. I absolutely love it. Thank you for all that you do. I know you love it too.”

  I held up the award and hugged the lady one more time before I walked off the stage. Not wanting to go the same way I came, I turned towards the steps closer to the podium, away from Mr. Aroma. Another gentleman, who was almost equally as gorgeous as Mr. Aroma with a cropped cut, spiky blondish hair, a black tux, and a goatee. He held my hand and whispered in my ear, “Congratulations, beautiful!”

  Goodness, what is with the whispering in my ears this evening.

  Well, one thing was for sure. Now, I really could not leave early. I had been put in the spotlight and everyone would watch my every move.

  URG!

  People applauded until I took my seat again. There was a group of students that sang for us, they gave out some more awards, but apparently the World Changers award was a huge deal. I had no idea. I felt a little stupid for not knowing about the award and thinking the people were pompous, even though some of them really were full of themselves. At the end of the event, they introduced some important people who said a few words and then it was over. Afterward, it seemed that people flocked to me by the dozens. My jaws were hurting because I was smiling so much and handing out my business card so they could come see the school, making appointments to come to their schools, and talking to potential investors. They were all so happy and seemed to want to get to know about my school.

  One lady asked, “So, what do you do about the drug wars in East New York?”

  I looked around the crowd that was surrounding me, “Drug dealers have kids, too.”

  Everyone erupted in laughter.

  Then, I clarified my joke by stating, “In my experience, most drug dealers are in that game because they felt they didn’t have a choice. So, one of the ways I try to bridge that gap with my students and their
families, is by preparing them so they have options and that includes providing services or connecting them with organizations that can help them find jobs, even with a criminal record, or finish their diploma or degree, and gain legal employment. I provide that service to the community and I’m protected. My school, as one of the guys says, is the safe zone.”

  Everyone looked in awe. Then, someone asked, “What is the success rate of this initiative?”

  I responded, “We are in our second year of starting the school and the first year of instituting this particular program. However, we have had at least ten known dealers or distributors of narcotics, inquire, and follow-up about our services, two gang fights eliminated because I called one of them to intervene, and one boy did not suffer the repercussions for attempting to leave a gang. With those numbers, I say we are 100% successful. Now, could we do better? Of course. Will we, most definitely, but trying to quantify a public service like who sells drugs and who doesn’t – won’t happen. Out of everyone we serve or kids who come to my school, I know there are more than ten dealers.”

  I then raised my eyebrow and shrug my shoulders. Everyone laughed. I smiled back, then I felt someone press against my back, wrap their arm around my midsection and kiss my neck.

  Oh, they kissed the spot.

  The one behind my ear and in the middle of my neck. The spot that gets me horny. I melted into him, instead of moving away from him. I knew exactly who it was, Mr. Aroma. He is the only crazy man who takes liberty with touching me, talking dirty and not even knowing me. I could also smell his scent enveloping my space.

  He inhaled and said to the group gathered around me, “Sorry, everyone. I’m going to have to steal her now.”

  They all laughed, gave their congratulations, and left us. I waited for the last person to leave and slowly turned to deal with the crazy man. He let me turn, so I stepped back away from him. He dropped his arm and cocked his head to the side to look at me. Yup, I’m in trouble.