BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

  Sylvie,

  I know you’re upset, but please let me explain. As soon as I arrived, I went to my condo and then called my daughter. I went to pick her up, got something to eat and had to settle her in. She was upset, and with good reason. I needed to spend that time with her. That’s why I was late. By the time I signed on, you had already gone, I’m assuming. Please forgive me, I didn’t stand you up. I would never do that. The least you could have done, lady, was leave me a message of some kind. But I know you already…you probably got all bent out of shape and for no reason. I promise you, I will be here on time tomorrow night, but let’s please make it at 9pm. That is, 9pm my time. Another thing I neglected to confirm with you, the time difference, I'm two hours behind you, so 9pm my time will mean 11pm your time. If that's too late, let me know; I'll move it up earlier for you if you need me to. I just need time to get my daughter in bed and free time to chat with you…I hope that’s okay. And, um, I miss you. I’ve had nothing on my mind, but you. Our first kiss, our next kiss, and all the little kisses after that. Please tell me there will be more…

  Shawn

  After reading the short email for the fifteenth time, Sylvia finally sat back. “Oh god, do you know that I am in sooo much trouble? He’s getting to me. Ha! He’s gotten to me.” She sighed. She grabbed her mouse to click on reply, but then changed her mind.

  “Tomorrow is soon enough,” she said out loud then shut down her computer, rose and clicked off the light, going to her room. She unsnapped her jeans and stepped out of them, laying them on the chair there, walked to her bathroom and readied herself for bed. It took a while for her to fall asleep. The nap at his place, in his bed, made it hard for her to get back to sleep. Though in her own bed, she could smell him. His scent was heavy in her head. Suddenly her nice big comfortable bed felt cold and empty. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would be like to have him laying behind her now. Talking low and sultry in her ear. His strong arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. His body large, warm, and firm against her.

  “Girlfriend! You best get yo’ min’ on somethin’ else!” she exclaimed, popping her eyes open. “Oh god, what have I done to deserve this? This is gonna be so hard! I just know it. I—don’t—need—the drama! And with this man, I know it ain’t gonna be nothing but! I should have moved to Siberia,” she finished at last, laying on her back, looking up at the dark ceiling.

  “This sucks!”

  * * * * * *

  Shawn lay in bed, his eyes wide open. He’d fixed himself up good. fifty push-ups. fifty chin-ups. A hundred sit-ups. Three sets with the free weights of bicep curls, military presses and lunges. Then twenty minutes on the Elliptical. A cool shower following that, and one would think it would have worn him out to sleep. But at one in the morning, he was wide awake. He would have been alright, had he steered clear of any thoughts of her. But damned if finding her naked, save for the towel on his deck, didn’t come back to mind full and strong. He couldn’t get that smooth, tapered, defined back and spine of out his mind. Her skin was caramel brown and flawless. That towel stopped just before the round of her rear, where a small glimpse and tease of the line crack of her butt was about to show. He fantasized about pushing the towel further back to expose her rounded bottom. His fair hand, caressing her soft darker skin. He swallowed. In his fantasy, she lay there trapped, at his mercy…or no mercy. Because he wanted to take advantage of her disadvantage, grabbing a handful of her hair at the top of her head and forcing her head back. Her eyes wide, expectant, fearful…yet aroused as he sat beside her. Lowering his mouth to hers, filling it with his tongue. She'd whimper. He groaned.

  “Oh—my—god! She turns me on,” he growled out loud. Stretching his large aroused body on his back, he looked down at himself, wondering had he ever been harder than he was right then. “Dude…we gotta get some sleep…as you may have noticed, we got nothing to work with here.” Sighing deep and shaky, he admitted this too, aloud, “Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault. You’re doing what you’re suppose to. So don’t stop, just…chill right now…I’ll stop thinking about her. Somehow, I’ll get those round, sweet breasts off my mind. Man! She is such a freakin' fox!” Shawn tried to turn over. He blew, exasperated.

  “Two weeks. That’s fourteen days. 24 hours each…gonna have to stay super busy. Real busy."

  Chapter 16

  After parking down from the Bistro, Shawn grabbed his briefcase, slamming the car door and made his way to the hostess. “I’m here to meet with the Kaplan party.” She smiled up at him, grabbed a menu and lead him to the table, politely responding, “Right this way, Sir.”

  As he approached, Gerard glanced up and smiled, waving him forward. Just then, a familiar head turned to him. Before the face and features became visible, he imagined the woman to be Sylvia. There was a definite resemblance, but then the full of her face became visible as the hostess laid down his menu before an empty seat. Pulling it out, he sat explaining himself. “Please excuse me for my tardiness. I have a nine year old daughter to get off to school.”

  Mercy James smiled. “No problem. We just arrived as well. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she opened.

  Yes, there is a slight resemblance, he thought of Mercy James. Bringing Sylvia’s face to mind, there was one slight difference; Sylvia was prettier. Darker. Her skin a flawless, rich brown. Delicious looking. Mercy James had an olive complexion. Dark eyes like Sylvia, but again, Sylvia’s were larger. Mercy’s lips were full. His Sylvia’s, fuller and plump…very kissable. A twinkle lit in Mercy’s eyes as she noticed his inspection.

  “Something on my face you’re struggling to make me aware of?”

  Shawn sat back, blushed and grinned. “Sorry, you just remind me of someone, that’s all, and I guess I was noting the differences,” he explained with a pleasant smile. Gerard Kaplan, his agent, cleared his throat. “Yes, well, how about we get down to business?” All agreed as Mercy James explained what it was she was looking for. He made rough outlines of a layout that she was describing. Half an hour into the meeting a man approached, looking to be in his mid to late 40’s. Shawn was surprised to find out that he was her husband, Lowell James, and was late for the meeting because of another meeting connected to their growing business, a newly established publishing house. Shawn was also surprised to see that he was white. He watched the look on Mercy James' face when her husband appeared; it was like someone turned a light on. Her smile was bright and her eyes sparkled just at the sight of him. Watching them, he noted that for a few moments of them greeting one another, they lost all interest in those present.

  Lowell smiled, placing a hand behind his wife's chair, bending to kiss her lips, which were raised eagerly to reciprocate. That bit of pleasure over, he reached for a chair at another table to place next to his wife's. Shawn also noticed that it took Mercy James a few moments to draw her eyes away from her husband and back to the meeting at hand. Once she did, it was all business again. He also tried to ignore Lowell's hand at her neck where he caressed her gently. They were in love. Very much so. There was something about seeing them together that made him think of Sylvia and himself. Was what he saw before him now, possible for them as well? They were all about the same age.

  The meeting went much as he had expected it to go, with an extra consideration. Lowell James offered him a contract to look over, it entailed him being their main illustrator of all the manuscripts they accepted. He couldn't believe it, and of course shook their hands and agreed to give it a close look over. His schedule would be full for the next two weeks. Between setting up the layout for this cover, spending time with his daughter, and continuing his pursuit of Sylvia from a distance, his plate would be pretty full. He thought of Mercy James, another black author. She reminded him of Sylvia in many ways, beside their similar style of hair and dress. They were both forthright, bold and decisive. Their main difference being, Mercy had succeeded in making the bestseller's list, with many of her books sought after for screenplays.

 
; Driving to pick up his daughter, he thought also of Lowell James. A man strongly built, blond with a receding hairline. He had a Jack Nicholson look about him, while the better looking of the two and very distinguished. By the look of things, very much in love with his wife. For most of the time he was there, he didn't seem to want to take his eyes off of her; Eeen so, he was very much aware of what was happening around him. When it was time to make a decision, Mercy looked to him for direction. Though his gaze of admiration had been on her for the most part, he knew exactly what was going on, with their ideas and vision the same. They were in sync, with an obvious unity no one could deny. Again, he thought about Sylvia and himself. Would they, could they, be like the James'?

  His next thought was should he take advantage of the contact for Sylvia? He wasn't sure about her writing style or how good she was, but he would keep this in mind. Who knew, maybe this was the start of something more to come. Something good. Monday morning he would meet with the group selected for the photo shoot and cover layout. The trilogy they wrote was historical, grand and sweeping. They both expected the cover of all three books to reach out and grab the potential reader upon opening the cover. Not batting an eye at his quote, they expected the best possible illustration, and he would be giving them just that. After all, he'd already decided to sign on with them as their publishing house illustrator, the money would be constant. He had some time still before picking Angela up so he'd stopped at the store, selecting various odds and ends to fill his cupboards and refrigerator while he was there with his daughter. They would get home, put everything away, and he'd grill up a couple of burgers and toss some fries in the oven to bake. After fixing the burgers, adding the fries to the plate, they sat across from each other at the table lost in thought before Angela asked,

  “Daddy, can I come and live with you?” That question sat Shawn back.

  “What brought that on?” he asked.

  She stirred a fry into her ketchup, then brought it to her mouth and bit off the dipped tip. “I miss you, that’s all,” she answered, not yet looking at him. “Wouldn’t doing so make you miss your mother?” he asked, doing the same with a fry. Sighing softly, she shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe.” She finished off the fry then looked up at him. “Do you ever miss me?”

  Shawn softened with compassion. “Always. I always miss you.”

  “Then why’d you leave me? Why didn’t you stay close by?”

  Shawn felt stuck by that question, because they'd kind of gone into that a bit the night before, only to find that discussion obviously wasn't enough. “Look, pum'kin. California and me…well, I’m just not made of the stuff required to live happily in a place like this. I wanted your mom to see that and come to Wisconsin with me. But it just never happened.”

  “You shouldn’t have cheated. Maybe she would have, if not for that,” she stated boldly. Not judgmentally, but honestly. Shawn nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I was wrong and maybe she would have. Who knows? But that’s neither here nor there, I will never know.” Angela looked back at her plate, then picked up her burger and bit out of it. Shawn did the same, waiting for the rest to come out. As she chewed, he could see her wheels turning for the next hit. Finally, after sipping her soda, she asked,

  “Any chance you love her at least a little, still?”

  Chewing his own burger, Shawn swallowed and answered, “I will always love her. She gave me you. But there’s no chance of us getting back together,” he informed her honestly.

  “Not even if she wanted to give it another chance?” she beseeched gently.

  “There’s no chance of that, pum'kin. Your mother would never consider getting back with me again.” As soon as he saw the look on her face, he knew he’d answered wrong. “But what if she did want to? Just…what if?”

  Shawn sighed. “It’s too late, pum'kin…it’s too late. I’ve gone on with my life. What your mother and I had, our marriage, is a part of a closed chapter. Never to be repeated.”

  “If she is willing…I don’t see why you won’t at least give it a try! You said you would always love her! Then why not try and see if you could make it work this time?”

  “Darlin’, you’re too young to understand this, but it’s too little, too late. It cannot be rekindled. All that I want from that marriage, is you. You’re all that matters to me now.”

  “Well, what about what I want? I’m tired of having to wait to see you! And if I come with you, then I can’t have mom! It’s not fair! What about me? What it’s doing to me?” she blasted him tearfully, then charged up from her chair and ran out of the room.

  Shawn dropped his partially eaten burger to the plate. Sighing deeply, he wiped his hand over his face and then leaned his cheek on his balled fist, his elbow braced on the armrest of his chair. He turned his head to look at the clock on the wall; 6:30…what was he to do with the next few hours? Cleaning off the table, he grabbed his briefcase and went into his office, having relocated his laptop in there where he had more space, next to his drafting table. The sooner he got started on the layout, the better.

  * * *

  Total, complete, absolute, frustration! Sylvia felt it surging through every cell of her body and it was all his fault! She couldn’t get anything done on her small website. She couldn’t focus on the small editing that was still left to do on her finished novel. And though she sent off an intro to an agent, she didn’t feel confident about the contents. All because of him! These thoughts coursing through her mind as she labored at painting her bathroom. Something she had planned to do for the longest but because of her writing, she didn’t want to break the flow to redecorate. Well, now thanks to Shawn—Everett Styles—McPherson, her flow was oopso! Finished! Flat! Washed up, for this particular moment in time, anyway.

  Which led her to where she was, leaning from the top of the ladder, trying to reach an awkward spot. Her hair tied up in a bandana, her ratty scrubs on, with dabs and streaks of paint standing out on her brown skin. Her stereo blasting in the background from the living room. Jammin’ to fast oldies…Dirty Cash by Adventures ofStevie V playing as she bobbed her head from side to side. Ever since she spent that time in Shawn’s house unpacking and arranging his place, it opened up energies to do her own. Especially now with her inability to think in her writer's mind. So muchenergy, and no outlet other than redecorating and painting. This was after all, the safe route. Because the alternative was out of the question. Meaning, thoughts of him. His eyes gazing into hers with so much hunger and desire; her heartbeat increased with just the recall. The strength of him holding her against the door as he ravaged her mouth. Sylvia pulled herself back to safety on the ladder and took a seat there as her mind refused to let go of the image of what his mouth was doing to hers. She felt an undeniable throbbing, an unmistakable swelling.

  “Oh, god…help me through this…please.” I want him. I want him bad. Only in her mind would she admit it. Never to him. Not now…it was too soon. But her body…ah, well, what a treacherous thing it was. No matter what the mind warned and directed, the heart, enclosed and protected by the body…was powerful, and could not be denied. It didn’t play by the rules of the game. It was a greedy, selfish, treacherous thing that was responsible for ruining many lives. Not realizing that it itself, lead many to cause its breaking. Oh great, not that, she moaned in thought as Moments in Loveby Art of Noise began, sending her mind into her dimly-lit bedroom. Candles burning, giving off the sent of musk and sandalwood. Feet intertwined from beneath creamy, satin sheets. Those of hers, brown and flexing with those of his fair, larger feet.Opening up, a closer scene with their legs moving and showing. Hers spread, with him nestled close and deep there. His back arching, her head thrown back…

  “Oh my god! Oh my god! Make it stop…please make it stop.” She felt tears come to her eyes as her body shivered from responding to the visual image. Her heart pumping blood to all the regions where the need was great. “Paint, girlfriend! Paint…stop…turn that one off!” she
directed herself, climbing down from the ladder to do just that. Wrong music to be playing when one was longing as she was. Missing him. His voice that poured over her like sweet, intoxicating, warm honey. Lips warm, yet hard and unrelenting…aaaahhh! She flopped down on her sofa after skipping her CD to the next song, holding her head in her palms as she sat, trying to get a grip of her rioting emotions and thoughts.

  “I—am—in—so much trouble,” she said aloud. Then a tear streamed out the corner of her eye. “God almighty, this man already has a grip on my heart. And I can’t break it…and my heart…he’s going to, I just know it. I just know it.” She sat back as DMX's mix of In the Air Tonight began. She pulled her knees up and around on the sofa to her chest, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, no longer fighting her thoughts of him. The one now playing of him on his Harley…such a powerful image. He handled that bike like a master. The way he rode it with smooth ease, is much the way she knew he would ride her. Closing her eyes, she saw what she knew would one day come to be. Her stretched out on her back, and him riding her with such exquisite care…with such determination to show her what a man like him could make her feel.

  Again she tried to shake off the image, but the strength of it was having the needed effect to make her want him, just as he had shown himself to want her. Charging up from the sofa, she went back into the bathroom to pick up where she left off, wondering what was to happen when he returned. She didn’t want to be so weak as to give in to him…but she was now afraid. Her desires for him was gaining more strength than her determination to be free of sexual entanglements. Entanglements where she would be the one regretting the act, giving him another notch to hisbedpost.

  “God, how am I to fight this? How? The key is to put all of this to a halt, right now…while I still can. Or can I? Is it already too late?” Again she painted, shaking her head. Thinking about his presence in her home. The way it felt to have him around.The natural stirring of excitement with just his nearness. How in the world did she think she could go on for the rest of her life without a man? And now, of all men to come into her life, it had to be Shawn Everett McPherson. Maybe she should test herself. Maybe she just wouldn’t be online tonight when he expected her to be there. After all, she hadn’t replied to his email. Therefore, no committment was actually made to say if she would meet him or not. If he signed on and noticed that she was not there…maybe he would just get the message. Besides, 11 o'clock at night was late for her.