An experienced man. The alarm bells went off. Ignoring them, Jen slid under the covers. Tre’s mouth immediately went to work loving her. His hands roamed all her moist places, delving into every crevice and then some. She was loving him back with her hands and mouth, laving him, and using her fingers to do her own intimate exploring.
His “Yes, baby, yes,” gave her encouragement to be even more daring. They switched positions, alternating between pleasuring each other. Finally, Tre rolled her over on her chest and covered her body with his. Jen felt his coarse chest hairs graze her back as he ground into her. She felt his soft kisses on the sides of her neck and when he stopped to shield himself she felt abandoned. Then he was entering her with long, slow strokes which quickly built in intensity, and he was nibbling on her flesh and nipping her while making seductive heartfelt grunts.
Tre’s ankles locked around hers. His hands slid under her body, one on her breast the other on her throbbing core. He’d filled her up and overwhelmed her with sensations. She was OD’ing on the sounds and smell of him, totally enjoying the feelings of wild abandonment and of going with the flow.
Jen hadn’t expected Tre to be this tender or this giving. And she certainly did not expect to feel so uninhibited with a man that she had no relationship with to speak of, and probably would never have, once he found out she was Dear Jenna.
The first spasm sent her spiraling over the edge, and another one quickly followed. She could barely hold on or wait for him to come with her. He was right there as she slipped into that place where nothing else mattered except him and her. He was there with her, matching her gasp for gasp and taking her with him to the land of sensations.
“We are…good…together,” he gasped.
“No, we’re great.”
She meant it. They complemented each other, the perfect sex mates.
At least for tonight.
Marva’s eyes were on the bedside clock again. Midnight had come and gone and still no sign of Tre. One o’clock rolled around and he still hadn’t returned. She wasn’t worried.
Bless that boy, he’d snuck out when he thought she was asleep. She’d gotten a certain satisfaction from knowing he was heading for 5C’s and she fully approved. Jen St. George was just what her restless son needed. The woman had a good head on her shoulders and wasn’t one of those shallow bimbettes with nothing to say. She would settle Tre down.
Therefore Marva was even more delighted that her little ruse worked. Only a fool wouldn’t notice Tre was crazy about that girl and she was crazy about him. It didn’t take ESP to figure out what the two of them were up to. But both were consenting adults and any doubts about her son’s sexuality had been put to rest.
She gave the clock another quick glance and decided to make good use of Tre’s absence. Tre had lent her his laptop, supposedly to keep her entertained and out of his hair. He’d asked, no, ordered her to cancel his membership on Café Singles.
Marva booted up the computer and accessed the e-mail address she’d set up so candidates could reply to her ad. She scanned the e-mails just in case someone wonderful had replied. Much as she liked Jen, nothing in this world was guaranteed, and as her own mother used to say, every woman should have a backup man.
Personally she thought it was stupid of Tre not to give at least a look at some of the women who’d answered. The Internet provided a good way to screen out candidates and save both them and you a lot of heartache.
Marva was almost through reading the e-mails and scrutinizing the photos when the subject line of one caught her eye. “Look Me Up For Advice,” sure was different. It was catchy. The girl had a sense of humor.
But would the woman’s wit match the accompanying photo? Marva knew her son well enough to know that Tre liked his ladies well-groomed and classy; at least she thought so, based on the two he’d brought home. She downloaded the photo and waited for the picture to pop up.
It was a professional picture and a little outdated. She could swear she’d seen it before. No one wore those pinstriped double-breasted suits these days unless they were in banking; even the lawyers had eased up. Now if the woman ditched the silly glasses she wouldn’t be half bad. It bothered her she couldn’t immediately place the face. She never ever forgot a face. Maybe she was getting old.
“What are you doing, Mother?” Tre’s voice came out of nowhere.
One of Marva’s hands immediately flew to her chest, the other tried to log off quickly. Tre, in anticipation of her move, had a firm hold on her wrist.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He scanned the screen and looked at her with flashing eyes. Her boy had always had a bad temper. Now she prayed she wouldn’t be on the receiving end. It usually surfaced when he perceived an injustice was being done. Tre had since worked to rein in that temper, even taking anger management classes after he’d punched out a man for trying to steal an old lady’s pocketbook. In the scuffle he’d actually broken the guy’s nose.
“You told me you canceled this membership, Mother.”
“I was going to.”
Tre glanced at the monitor again and frowned. “What’s this photo of Dear Jenna doing up? Tell me you’re not meddling, Mother.”
Suddenly it hit her. No wonder she knew that face. She’d seen it earlier, only a friendlier version. But the woman had been more casually attired so she’d come across as less stiff.
Marva looked at Tre. Poor sod. He didn’t have a clue. Dear Jenna and Jen in 5C were one and the same. Jen had just sent him the message she was interested.
Should she leave the big doofus to figure it out himself? Or should she tell him? Men could be so dumb at times.
Chapter 18
“You get a response from that man we think is D’Dawg?” Chere huffed as she pedaled the stationary bike. They were at Flamingo Place’s gym, seated on bikes next to each other.
Chere had asked Jen if she would let her use one of her visitor’s passes. She claimed she wanted to look around as she was considering joining a gym. Something or someone had prompted her to put forth the effort because out of the blue she was making a concerted effort to work on her weight. What was up with that? It hadn’t seemed to matter before. Chere always proudly referred to herself as having big beautiful curves. Her men seemed to like her that way.
“Haven’t heard a word,” Jen admitted, pedaling furiously. “You think his mama told him I responded?”
“Hard to say.”
It bothered Jen that she had not heard word one from Tre ever since their passionate evening together. True, she had no hold on him. They didn’t even have an understanding, but it was still troubling that she hadn’t seen or heard from him. She’d already resolved it in her mind that if it was to be a onetime thing, at least she would have good memories.
“So why are you suddenly on this exercise kick?” she asked Chere after they switched to treadmills and Chere began a leisurely stroll on hers while Jen jogged.
“You inspire me,” Chere said sincerely. “I want to get into one of those cute little outfits you wear out. I want to look like her.” She pointed to the Latin woman, Jen recognized as the Pink Flamingo’s hostess. She was using the stepper while talking to a man Jen thought might be the restaurant’s manager. “I need to find me a professional man.”
“How about a nice guy, just someone who treats you decently?”
“I’ll settle for employed and one who’s not paying his ex an arm and a leg in alimony or child support.”
They high-fived each other and giggled.
“Well, it’s nice to see you ladies making use of the facilities,” a male voice said from in front of them.
Jen smiled brightly and waved at Quen Abraham the health-club manager. He looked especially fit outfitted in his black T-shirt and khaki shorts. He carried a clipboard under one arm.
“Hey, Quen, you know a good personal trainer?” Chere yelled.
Quen stopped and turned back. “As a matter of fact I know several. Is it for you?”
Chere n
odded. She’d poured herself into Lycra capris and a sports bra she had no business wearing.
“Normally I don’t do this, but I can make an exception. I’d work with you.”
Chere shut off the machine and hurried over to make her negotiations. Several minutes later she returned looking pleased.
“Quen’s letting me join the gym at the residents’ price. He’s also going to work with me three times a week.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jen said warmly.
Later, showered and dressed, Jen retrieved the messages on her cell phone. One was from her boss, Luis. He wanted her to call the office immediately. Jen wondered what could be so urgent. Things had been relatively quiet now that the whole issue of “queer” had been resolved. She left Chere reading and cataloging and went into her bedroom to return the call.
Big mistake. The memories of her and Tre’s love-making were still very fresh and, as much as she’d tried to put it all behind her, she had to admit she’d developed feelings for the man.
Now she concentrated on what Luis was saying. “I got a call from WARP’s program director. He’d like to set up a radio debate between you and Doctor Love.”
“You mean Doctor Allen Fraser.”
“Exactly. The Southern Tribune’s raring to get you both on. They figure the PR will do them good, and I don’t think it will hurt us, either.”
“When is this debate supposed to be?”
“Primetime of course. Midweek, probably Wednesday, on the D’Dawg show.”
Like she didn’t have that one figured.
“We’ll do this remotely like the last time. I’ll call into WARP?” Jen asked.
“Well, actually no, the host wants you both to come down to the station.”
That just couldn’t happen. She needed to get out of this somehow.
“Why? That’s so inconvenient.”
“The program director mentioned something about having you react to each other’s comments face-to-face.”
“I’d prefer to call in to the radio station,” Jen insisted. “I’m already behind with two upcoming columns. This will set me back even more.”
“You’ll manage,” Luis said, “You always do.”
And that was that. Now her cover was in danger of being blown.
She disconnected and returned to the living area to find Chere still at her desk. So far she had not been sidetracked by Jen’s kitchen or refrigerator. Chere was taking this business of getting into shape seriously. There had to be some particular reason. Jen strongly suspected it was because of a man.
Making a mental note to call the management office later, to let them know she might be interested in purchasing the apartment, Jen sat back down and involved herself in her work.
“Boris wants to see you,” Bill said the moment Tre set down his bulging backpack holding the everpresent assortment of CDs.
Tre scrunched up his nose. “What does he want?”
“Who knows? I don’t think he’s on the warpath. He’s actually been in a pretty good mood this evening.”
Then it could be almost anything. Tre had shown up early at the radio station determined to have time to research his upcoming guests. He wanted to know more about this “love doctor,” and what made him a specialist on relationships. He also meant to find out everything he could about Dear Jenna. No point in having an on-air debate unless you were prepared to ask some uncomfortable questions. This broadcast was going to rock.
Boris had his feet propped up on his desk when Tre entered. His hands were folded under his chin.
“Hey, you,” he greeted.
“What’s up?” Tre flopped down in the seat facing Boris and waited.
“I wanted you to be the first to know WARP will most likely be sold.”
Tre was on his feet. “What? None of us had any warning of this.”
“It was unexpected and an offer only a damn fool would refuse.”
“What does this mean for me?” Tre asked.
“You’re one of the lucky ones. You’ve got a great following and with the recent controversy, your ratings have gone right through the roof. You have nothing to worry about.”
Tre inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, privately thinking it was time to get word out on the street he was looking for a job. New management often meant uncomfortable changes. For the most part, he and Boris got along; but who knew what these new owners would be like?
Boris removed his feet from the console and stood up, signaling the audience was over. “I’ll be calling a staff meeting shortly. Until then I would like you to keep this under your hat.”
“Sure thing,” Tre said, turning away.
In the few minutes that the meeting had taken he’d been given a lot to consider. He was smack in the middle of negotiating buying his apartment and he’d involved himself with his next-door neighbor whom he’d not reached out to since that night. He needed a little space and time to think.
He would put Jen out of his head and focus on the impending radio interview with Miriam Young. He’d worked hard to get the no-nonsense Flip-Flop Momma on, and the day before the election at that. This was one straightforward woman. She wasn’t about BS, she was about addressing issues and righting wrongs.
Bill signaled. “Five minutes and you’re on the air.”
This gave Tre just a few seconds to scrutinize his notes. He was off and running.
“Yo, Flamingo Beach. D’Dawg’s on the air bringing you some of your favorite tunes this evening. We have live from our little downtown area, Miriam Young, who many of you think is your new mayor. Or was that Mayoress?” He paused, looking to Bill for help. “I’m told Mayor is politically correct, y’all. Anyway, this Flip-Flop Momma’s not one to flip-flop on issues as the incumbent suggests. In half an hour or so we’ll hear where this frank outspoken lady stands. And of course we’re here to take your calls.”
Tre pushed a button on the console and broke for commercials. Something felt off tonight. He attributed it to not knowing what to do about Jen.
But something clearly needed to be done before his mother took matters into her own hands.
Chapter 19
It was an odd hour of the morning for Jen’s phone to ring. Most people would assume she was at work, not working out of the house. She was tempted to ignore it. Anyone Jen knew would reach her on her cell phone.
Today glancing at her caller ID wasn’t helping, either. It flashed “blocked call.” Totally useless. Still, something prompted Jen to answer.
“Hello.”
“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the familiar voice said. “How is the most beautiful woman in the world?”
“Ellis!” Jen screamed. “It’s been too long. Where are you?”
“Back in Paris. Jacques and I are simply exhausted. We trekked all over Spain and through Italy. Now we need a vacation after the vacation.”
“I almost didn’t answer,” Jen admitted. “At this hour I’m usually bombarded with telemarketing calls, but I’m glad I did.”
“Well, I’m glad you did, too,” her brother answered, his delight at hearing her voice coming across the airwaves. “Jacques and I worry about you, especially after what that jerk did. He’ll get his, I promise.”
“Don’t waste your energy on Anderson. I’m over him, fully recovered and moved on.”
“Good. I never did like the sound of him. So there must be someone new, tell your little brother.” Ellis must have picked up on something in her tone.
“Not exactly new,” Jen said carefully. “We’re exploring where we want to go with it.”
“In other words, mind my business. Haven’t I told you to move to Paris, the most romantic city in the world? The men here don’t play games. They go after what they want. There’s a substantial number of Algerians living here, not to mention the French men are crazy about African-American women.”
It was an old conversation. Ellis the brother who’d had an even tougher time than she growing up, encouraging her to move to France where h
e felt comfortable and was fully accepted.
Ellis had been labeled the difficult child no foster family wanted. He and Jen had been split up more times than she cared to think about. What Ellis had been was confused about his sexuality and downright scared. They were two years apart and he’d loved playing with her dolls, grooming them meticulously and designing fashionable clothing for them to wear.
He’d been destined to be the successful designer he’d become. Ellis had been lucky to win a full scholarship to New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology, where he majored in lingerie design. He’d met Jacques, an exchange student, their senior year, and had moved with him to Paris after they graduated.
“Actually I like it here,” Jen admitted. “Flamingo Beach is quaint and charming. It’s such a southern town. The architecture is beautiful. Most of the homes have these wonderful gardens.”
“What about the people? How open-minded are they?”
Jen had to think about that carefully and the hubbub that had been caused over an unfortunate choice of words.
“Pretty conservative,” she admitted.
“There, see? I rest my case. How about a visit then? I’ll send you a ticket.”
“I haven’t been working for The Chronicle long enough to get vacation,” she reminded Ellis.
“It would hardly kill them to give you a day off attached to a weekend. You mentioned in one of your many e-mails you spend some days working from home, so what does it matter whether you’re in Florida or not? As long as you have a computer you can deliver.”
So true, but she still needed time to think about it. They talked for a few more minutes, ending the call on an upbeat note that Jen would think about visiting for an extended weekend.
As usual she was left feeling connected and loved. Ellis made no bones about verbalizing how much he loved his big sister. Conversations like this one made her long for a family, a man she trusted, could confide in and feel safe with, even a couple of kids, a family unit.
Jen thought about the man next door who’d made no secret of wanting a relationship. But not with her she would guess. It had been several days since their passionate mating and nada since. Time to put an end to the cat-and-mouse game. She would knock on his door and reassure him it was perfectly okay with her. They could be friends. He needed to know she was a big girl and didn’t have any expectations.
Flamingo Place (Mills & Boon Kimani) Page 15
