Lessons From a Younger Lover

by Zuri Day

  Ransom’s phone rang, shaking him from his musings. He thought of Gwen at once and smiled, reaching for the phone. She’s calling to apologize.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, you.”

  Carol. Dangit! I should have looked at the ID. “Oh, hey, Carol.”

  “Who were you expecting…Gwen?”

  Ransom’s call-waiting tone beeped in his ear. This time he looked at the number. “I need to take this call, Carol.” He switched over without waiting for a reply.

  “Hello?”

  Gwen only hesitated for a moment before responding. “Ransom, it’s Gwen. I hope it isn’t too late to call but I was…concerned about Isis. Is she okay?”

  Ransom tried not to let his ego deflate too badly over the fact that Gwen was calling to check on his daughter’s welfare and not his own. “She’s got a slight fever, but a good night’s sleep and a dose of my special healing potion and…she’ll be all right.”

  “Your healing potion?”

  Ransom frowned at the smile in Gwen’s voice. Did she think she could get back in his good graces so quickly? Of course he’d let her back in. He knew that, but he couldn’t let her know it, not without a little squirming on her part. His voice, while not harsh, was matter-of-fact as he answered.

  “My father’s Iroquois Indian, and he passes on some of their medicine knowledge to me. I made a healing tonic for her, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” His somber tone wasn’t lost on Gwen. She squirmed. “Well, uh, I won’t keep you then. I was concerned, and just wanted to check on your daughter. She’s one of my best students.”

  “Is that the only reason you called?”

  Gwen stifled a sigh. “No, I also called to apologize for my awful behavior the other day, my stereotypical presumptions and accusations. Actually, I wanted to do this in person but—”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “That’s what I was trying to do today, when we were interrupted. When your daughter came into the classroom saying she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “What’s wrong with now?”

  “Now?” Gwen looked at her watch. “Oh, Ransom, I couldn’t possibly impose on you at this hour. It’s almost nine o’clock.”

  “What, your car doesn’t start after the sun goes down? You’re on a teacher’s curfew?”

  “No, it’s just that…I don’t know how appropriate it would be for me to be visiting a parent this late at night.”

  Chagrin tinged Ransom’s voice. “Well, never mind then, Gwen. I accept your apology. Have a good night.”

  “Wait, Ransom, don’t hang up. What’s your address?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m coming over.”

  21

  Gwen pulled up in front of the home Ransom had described. She hesitated only a moment before opening her door and exiting the car. A motion light came on as she walked up the circular pathway to the front door. Its brightness revealed tan-colored bricks beneath a deep-red, Spanish styled roof. Two lion statues guarded each side of the door. A bright pink tricycle sat partially hidden behind a large bird-of-paradise bush, and a garden hose lay coiled just beside the tricycle. Gwen reached a tentative finger up to the doorbell and rang it.

  Her heart skipped a beat when Ransom opened the door. He stood tall and proud, backlit by the hall light behind him, wearing jeans and a tank top. His coal black hair was unbound, falling over his shoulders, while wisps of it framed his face. A few seconds elapsed as they looked at each other. Ransom broke the tension with a smile.

  “Well, are you going to deliver the apology from my doorstep?”

  Gwen smiled too. “No, I guess not.”

  Ransom stepped back, opening the door farther. “Come on in.”

  Gwen walked through the doorway and followed Ransom down the hall and into the large rectangular living room. She was immediately taken in with the simple yet sophisticated style of the place, a haphazard elegance unsuspected in a man Ransom’s age. The chocolate brown leather sofa and love seat were softened by silk throw pillows and a multicolored woven rug that took up half the room. On it sat a square wooden coffee table with architectural magazines vying for space with coloring books and black Barbie dolls. The other side of the room housed an entertainment center crammed with modern techie toys surrounding a large flat-screen TV. A pair of red bongos sat in a corner; a chair that appeared to be carved from a tree trunk rested on the other wall. The bare walls and lack of trivial whatnots revealed the lack of a woman’s touch, but for a twenty-six-year-old man with a six-year-old…the house felt comfortable, settled, mature. The sound of straight ahead jazz, Freddie Hubbard or Maynard Ferguson she guessed, oozed from the hidden surround-sound speakers—the music choice yet another surprise.

  “Your place is nice,” Gwen said, after she’d finished her quick perusal of the room.

  “Not the blunts and blasting hip-hop you expected?”

  Gwen chose the caustically delivered comment as her moment to dive right in. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you, Ransom. I was totally out of line and obviously way off base. I’ve been going through a lot these past few months…. That day you came to my classroom, well, the stress got the better of me. I’m not making excuses for what I did or the things I said. I’m just saying it’s out of character for me to behave that way and I hope you will accept my apology.”

  Once again Ransom’s face was a mask. He crossed his arms and continued to eye Gwen with a ferocity that made her uncomfortable.

  “I hope we can salvage a civil relationship out of this,” she continued into the silence. “For Isis’s sake if no other reason. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that your daughter is a very bright child, a leader. Her future is filled with promise. I’m not supposed to have favorites but it’s hard not to be drawn to her special personality. It tells me you…and her mother…have been doing something right.”

  A frown flittered across Ransom’s face and then quickly disappeared. “Her mother has little to do with it. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Uh, no, thanks. I can’t stay long.”

  “Why not? It’s Friday night. What’s got you so anxious to leave, besides your attraction to me?”

  His closeness to the truth made Gwen angry. “Look, I’ve done what I came here to do.”

  “Yeah, you’ve apologized. But I haven’t accepted it yet. I can understand your need to run away from me. You’re scared of your feelings, and of me, and what might happen if you stay.”

  “Oh, please. You flatter yourself. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Good. In that case, have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  Before Gwen could respond, she was watching a pair of strong, graceful legs beneath a broad muscled back walk away from her, through the dining room and into the kitchen. Her mind worked to discount his accurate assessment of her fear even as her hand itched to run its fingers through the satiny hair that swayed back and forth as he turned the corner.

  I’m the older adult here! Gwen reminded herself. I can handle this. After all, he’s the parent of one of my students, nothing more. Gwen’s argument felt convincing until he walked back into the room, with two cups. Then, her tingling nana suggested otherwise.

  Ransom stopped in front of her and offered a cup with steam rising from its brim.

  “What’s this?”

  “Something to relax you,” Ransom said, taking a seat near the opposite end of the couch.

  Gwen lifted the cup off the saucer and to her nose. “It smells good.” She prepared to take a sip. “There aren’t any drugs or anything in here, are there?” Immediately, she regretted the comment. “I’m sorry. What I meant was…” Gwen took a tentative sip. The concoction was at once spicy and sweet.

  “Always thinking the worst,” Ransom countered smoothly. He took a sip of the cinnamon-flavored brew he’d made. “No drugs, no alcohol. Just a tea designed to calm and soothe.” Ransom continued to sip the drink, his deep black eyes piercing and unyielding. “Where is your

soon-to-be ex-husband, and what did he do to hurt you so?”

  The question caught Gwen off guard. She’d almost forgotten that Miss Mary had seen fit to share her business with him the night her mother fainted.

  “He’s in Chicago.” Gwen didn’t know how much of her personal life she wanted to reveal. She deflected his investigative probing with a question of her own.

  “Where’s Isis’s mother?”

  “New York.”

  A lone trumpet filled the ensuing silence as the players of conversational chess plotted the next move. Gwen knew she should say something and wasn’t quite sure why this man so unnerved her. True, she didn’t have a wealth of experience with the opposite sex, especially ones who looked and acted as Ransom did, but she was no longer a cringing wallflower.

  “She’s a model,” Ransom finally continued into the silence. “Left three years ago to pursue a career after deciding that motherhood was not for her.”

  “So you take care of Isis alone…a single father?”

  Ransom laughed, the first sign of camaraderie he’d shown all night. “Dang, woman, don’t sound so shocked. I have help. A housekeeper comes in a couple days a week. Sometimes she helps me with Isis. Carol does too. Her daughter, Kari, and Isis are best friends.”

  Gwen curbed the urge to ask about his and Carol’s friendship. Sticking to the absent mother subject felt safer. “Does Isis’s mother see her often?”

  “Not lately. Brea got an agent and has been doing a lot of work in Europe. Her mother, a sister, and two brothers live in LA, but we haven’t seen any of them in the past two years.”

  “It must be hard juggling work and family. You own a construction company, right?”

  Ransom nodded. “Blake Construction. It’s small, but we’ve gotten lucky on a couple choice bids—the Sienna Elementary School job, for instance. Did Adam tell you how he tried to block our bid?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s a jerk. But then again, as long as you’ve known my brother you would know that.” Ransom studied Gwen casually, sipped his tea. “When’s your divorce going to be final?”

  Whatever kind of tea Ransom had given her, it must have been working, because Gwen, feeling more relaxed, sat back in her seat and decided to answer his question.

  “In a few months.”

  “I don’t understand how a man could cheat on a woman like you.”

  “Oh my God. Is there anything Miss Mary didn’t tell you?”

  Ransom smiled. “That’s all she said, that you left your husband after he’d been unfaithful. I’ll never understand how some people can treat commitment so lightly,” Ransom said. “People don’t take responsibility seriously these days.”

  There it was again, that maturity that belied his years. Gwen placed the cup in its saucer and rose from the couch. She walked over to the entertainment center, where what looked like hundreds of CDs lined a number of shelves.

  “I really misjudged you, didn’t I?” she said without turning around. “You’re nothing like I would have guessed. In fact, you’re the opposite. Take this music, for instance. It’s the last kind I thought you’d be listening to. My dad loved this old-style jazz with its straight ahead sound. Who would have thought…”

  The rest of the sentence died on her lips as she turned around and encountered the same strong chest that she’d fantasized about ever since feeling it a month ago. She slowly raised her eyes to meet Ransom’s.

  “I didn’t hear you walk up behind me,” she said softly.

  “The mark of a true Native,” Ransom responded.

  Gwen took a step back and bumped into the entertainment center. She took a step sideways and walked around him, toward the safety of the other side of the room. “Do you accept my apology?” she asked, finishing the last drops of the now cold tea.

  “Have you learned your lesson?” Ransom countered.

  “What lesson?” Gwen remained standing, wanting to reach for her purse, but not wanting to appear to be running away…again.

  Ransom crossed his arms as he spoke. “The one about not judging someone prematurely, and not putting all young black men into one big stereotypical box.”

  “Yes,” Gwen answered, forcing herself to meet Ransom’s unblinking gaze. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then come back over here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got another lesson to teach you.”

  22

  Gwen mirrored Ransom’s cross-armed stance. “Why?”

  “Is that the kind of response you expect from your students? I’m the teacher right now. Come here.”

  Gwen’s heart pounded as she forced herself to obey his command. I’m not scared of this boy, she lied. I’m almost old enough to be his mother.

  “Now, turn around,” he said once she stood before him.

  She did as instructed. It seemed an eternity passed where once again silence, and the bayou sounds of Wynton Marsalis, pulsated through the room. Then she felt his fingers, at once both strong and pliable, grasp the sides of her neck. He applied pressure with one hand. With the other, he clasped her upper arm, gently yet firmly. With her locked in place he massaged the nape of her neck, and her scalp just above it. Gwen dropped her head, a strange calmness enveloping her, even as she felt her muscles further relax.

  “The gentle sex,” Ransom said softly, “holds much of their tension in this area of their body. You’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Gwen.”

  He stepped closer, placed both his hands on her shoulders, and massaged between the blades and the tops of her arms. “You’ve been keeping worry and frustration inside you. It’s not healthy.”

  He ran a strong finger down the middle of her spine. Gwen shivered. “Just as I figured,” Ransom mumbled to himself.

  “What?” Gwen whispered, suppressing a moan. Ransom’s fingers were like magic, melting the day’s stress away.

  “You’re full of sexual tension as well,” Ransom concluded matter-of-factly. He ran a finger down her spine again, harder this time, even as he stepped closer and braced her with a hand on her stomach.

  This time Gwen did moan. And move, fast. “Thanks for helping me relax, but I’ve got to go,” she said, rushing the words together as she reached for her purse. Gwen’s va-jay-jay was throbbing, even as wetness covered her thong underwear. She hoped the desire didn’t show on her face.

  “I’m not running away,” she continued, running for the door. “It’s just that I promised my mother I’d visit her early in the morning.”

  “That’s cool,” Ransom said, knowing what his touch had done to her. His Iroquois mentors, friends of his father, had educated him well in the ways of a woman’s body. And how to take the tension away…from everywhere. “But give me a hug before you go.” He stepped in front of her as they reached the door, barring her escape.

  “Ransom, I can’t get involved with the parent of a student.”

  “Who said anything about getting involved? I just asked for a hug, that’s all.”

  “Fine,” Gwen said, stepping into his open arms. Just a quick one. I won’t even let our bodies touch.

  Of course, Ransom had other plans. He enveloped her fully, bending down to place his head in the crook of her neck. His hair smelled as fresh as sunshine and was soft and warm against her face. His lips nuzzled her neck, and then came around to claim her mouth in a kiss that seared her senses. He pulled her closer, thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and lavished her with a tenderness that sparked intense desire. Even as she thought not to, she pressed herself against his hard, lean frame. Her lower body developed a mind of its own and began a sensual grinding against his bulging manhood. Ransom cupped Gwen’s butt and pressed her against his hardness. His tongue plunged deeper; Gwen swirled her tongue around his, mimicking her lower body. Ransom lifted her off the floor, pinned her against the wall, and increased his assault. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He placed a hand underneath her top. The flimsy camisole offered little resistance as he grabbed a nipple and expertly brought it to a hardened peak. He lifted her higher, so that his mouth could replace his fingers. He suckled, licked, nipped at her now exposed flesh. The hard thick shaft that was now centered between her folds, separated only by cloth and waning constraint, confirmed what Gwen had wondered about…. Ransom was all that and a bag of whatever…supersized.

  Suddenly, she didn’t care anymore. Not about her reputation as a schoolteacher, her marital status, her self-made promise not to get romantically involved with any Sienna citizen. After months of abstinence she was on fire, and it felt like the man in front of her had more than enough hose to douse her flame. Ransom was over twenty-one after all; she might be rocking the cradle but she wasn’t robbing it.

  Her pants and his jeans was too much material between them. She wanted to feel him, hard and heavy, between her legs, inside her. She buried her hands in the hair she’d longed to touch and placed a flurry of kisses on his brow, nose, and lips. She looked into already black eyes further darkened with desire, and knew that soon she would see him naked. She was going to do it—throw caution to the wind and make love to this amazing, gorgeous man.

  “Daddy, where are you?” A groggy young voice pierced their haze of desire. “Daddy?”

  Ransom stepped back quickly, easing Gwen to the floor as he did so. “I’m right here, Princess,” he called out. “Don’t move,” he whispered to Gwen, and then walked down the hall in the opposite direction of the living room, obviously to where the bedrooms were located. “Are you feeling better?” Gwen heard him ask his daughter.

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