by Mz. Robinson
“Bill got a new truck?” I asked, smiling.
“That’s not Bill,” She said.
Looking at her strangely I stood to see who it was. My jaw dropped when I saw the tall, lean dark chocolate man striding towards my mother’s front porch.
“Hey baby girl!”
Turning around I looked at her. She continued to swing back and forth in silence. Redirecting my attention to my father, I stood like a zombie as he wrapped his long arms around my shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked.
He looked at my mother begging her for help with his eyes.
“We’re about to go out for lunch,” She said, finally coming to his rescue. “Are you hungry? You could join us.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” He asked.
“Why are the two of you going to lunch?” I asked.
“Because,” Mama said, standing, “We’re hungry.”
She stepped inside and left me standing on the front porch with Daddy. There was silence until she returned with her purse swinging on her shoulder and keys in hand.
“Well, we better get going,” He said, extending his arm so Mama could wrap hers around it.
Kissing my cheek softly, she asked,” Are you coming?”
I was still trying to process the sudden turn of events. Shaking my head from side to side, I closed my eyes and chewed on my bottom lip.
“Charles I guess it’s just me and you,” She said, sliding her arm through his. “Oh, are you going to be here for awhile?” She asked me.
“I...I don’t know.” I stuttered. I was still trying to figure out what was going on.
“Well lock the front door before you leave,” She told me. I stood and watched as Daddy assisted Mama in on the passenger side.
“Bye, Baby Girl.” Daddy yelled at me as he climbed in the driver side.
I stood there and watched as the two of them backed out the driveway and preceded onto the main road.
My parents had been cordial to each other after their divorce but I don’t ever remember them being friends. I hadn’t heard them say more than “hello” to each other since their divorce, therefore, I could not figure out why the two of them were suddenly spending time together.
Only a short time had passed, and I was still sitting on the porch and waiting for my parents to return when a silver Mercedes CLS pulled into the driveway. I watched in silence as the car stopped and out stepped a tall caramel- brown, bald brother. He was wearing a royal blue Hugo Boss pin striped suit with matching gators. His shoulders were so broad; he looked like he could have been a player in the NFL. He moved like water as he approached me on the porch. As he moved closer, I observed his smooth hairless skin and nice full lips. Damn, the brother is fine!
“Excuse me,” He said, in a smooth deep voice, “Can you tell me how to get to the city?”
“Yes. Go north until you see exit thirteen. Then make a right and merge left. From there you take the second exit and go two miles or you can go north and take exit thirteen and…” I was rambling through the directions like an auctioneer.
He was looking at me with big dark eyes and a beautiful white smile.
There was something about the way he looked at me. It was like he was looking through me.
When I had finished giving him three different sets of directions and acting like I was not used to talking to a good looking man, I was practically out of breath.
“Did you get that?” I asked, exhaling.
“Yeah,” He laughed slightly, “I go north.”
Shaking my head, I laughed at myself and said “Yeah.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at me again. “By the way, I’m Damon Whitmore,” he said. He extended his hand to me. A big hand with nice long fingers and clean, well kept nails. I stared at it as I imagined it gliding all over my body and I got moist just thinking about it.
“I’m Octavia Ellis,” I smiled, shaking his hand. “That’s a beautiful name.” He said. He was still holding my hand and I didn’t mind one bit. “Thank you.” I said, releasing his hand.
“Well, I’d better get going,” He said, still smiling at me. “Thank you.” “You know,” I said quickly.” I’m bad with directions, why don’t you follow me into the city?”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not. I live in the city,” I told him. “I was just here visiting my family.”
Smiling he stuck his hands in his pants pockets, “Are you sure you don’t mind?” He asked.
“No. I don’t.” I said. I had every intention of waiting for my mother and father to return from lunch but it didn’t seem like they would be back any time soon. Plus I was not going to miss the chance to spend a little more time with the oh- so fine Mr. Whitmore.
“Where are you going downtown?” I asked him, ensuring my Mother’s front door was locked.
“The Hilton Hotel on thirty-fourth.”
“Okay, I’ll take you there.”
Looking at me with those big almond eyes, he smiled, “Alright.”
Returning his smile, I intentionally sauntered off the steps of the porch slowly. I put a little added swerve in my hips because I knew he was watching. Turning around casually I looked back at him. I knew it- he was staring at me with this huge grin on his face. Sometimes men are so predictable!
* * * * *
“I would really like to see you again,” Damon said. We were standing next to his car in the parking lot of the hotel. “I’d like that.”
“I’m staying in room three-fifty,” He said. Smiling, I nodded my head and continued to look at him.
“Listen, I heard there is this really great jazz restaurant here,” He began.
“Amb…”
“Ambiance,” I finished his sentence.
“Yeah,” He said, giving me that look again.” Do you have plans for tonight?”
I had made plans to kick it with my friend, Shontay, but I’m sure she would understand especially with this brother being so fine. “No, I’m free.”
Smiling Damon loosened his necktie “Would you like to have dinner with me? I hear it’s the bomb.” “It is.” I said confidently.
Ambiance was my baby. I devoted the last year of my life to establishing it. I had managed to make it like no other restaurant in town. Upstairs was a bar and lounge that featured a live DJ six days a week. On Sundays the bar was closed, however the lounge remained open for local poets to come in and freestyle. Downstairs was the restaurant, which specialized in everything from Soul to Caribbean cuisine. In the restaurant there was strictly jazz being played through the sound system. We even showcased local jazz artists live from time to time. There were plenty of other joints in the city to eat or party but my place was considered the most upscale.
“What time should I pick you up?” He asked.
“What about eight?” I answered. “But I’ll come meet you.” I had a policy that I always drove on the first date. That way if I didn’t like the way the evening was going. I could leave him at anytime and go my separate way.
Damon looked completely surprised that I offered.
“I told you I’m bad with directions,” I reminded him.
“It’ll be easier this way.” I wasn’t about to tell him the truth.
“Okay,” He agreed. “I’ll see you at eight.”
Chapter 2
It was eight fifteen when I arrived at the hotel to meet Damon. It was my intention to be on time but there was a thirty-minute wait at the salon and I had to get a manicure and pedicure.
“Wow,” He said.
Smiling, Damon looked me from head to toe as we stood in the hotel lobby. I was wearing a pink low cut, short wrap around dress with pink heels that tied around my ankles. My hair was up in a bun with a few spiral curls framing my face.
I had chosen this dress because it not only hugged my breasts just right but it also accentuated my wide hips and nice, round
ass.
“Wow, yourself. Sorry I’m a little late.” I smiled, returning his head to toe glance. He was wearing black slacks and a baby blue, button down shirt. I almost started foaming at the mouth when I saw his well-toned biceps bulging from under his short sleeves. Everything about him was turning me on—even the scent of his cologne. I recognized it right away as Burberry and it was one of my favorite scents on a man.
“No problem. I just arrived in the lobby myself.” He casually took my hand and we walked to the restaurant.
When we arrived at the Ambiance, my bouncer, Tarik was turning people way. At 6’8” with milk chocolate skin and bulging muscles, Tarik was definitely fine. If it wasn’t for the fact that he worked for me, I would have gotten at him a long time ago but I’m a businesswoman, therefore I don’t sex anyone on payroll. You never know when things might get messy. The last thing I need is a sexual harassment suit.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing you here on a Saturday,” I said, as I led Damon by the hand to the front of the crowd.
I always brought men to my restaurant on weekdays or Sundays, because Saturday’s were much too busy.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to get in,” He said, following behind me.
Smiling, I looked back at him, “Trust me. We will.”
When we finally made it to the front door, I smiled at Tarik. Stepping aside, he winked his eye before letting us through the doorway.
“How did you do that?” Damon asked, looking back at Tarik.
“I have a little pull here,” I laughed softly.
Inside, my head waitress, Amel sat us in the VIP section. The VIP section consisted of five booths in a nicely secluded area in the back of the restaurant.
“This is really nice,” Damon said, moving his head to the sounds of Dizzy Gillespie.
“I love this atmosphere,” He added.
“Me, too.” I said.
“Do you come here often?”
“At least three to four times a week.”
“That’s explains the VIP status,” He laughed, flipping through the menu. Amel returned with two large glasses of ice tea. Before she departed, she took both of our dinner orders.
“So exactly what is it you do?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink.
“I’m an investment banker.”
That would explain his fine taste in clothing and the nice whip he was driving.
“So you’re here on business?” I questioned. Nodding his head, he said, “Yes.” “For how long?”
“At least six months,” He answered. “Or as long as it takes.”
“Whom do you work for?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
He reached for his glass, and then asked, “Have you ever heard of Nomad Investments and Savings?”
I had. “They’re one of the fastest growing investment corporations on the market right now.”
Smiling, he said, “Yes, they are.”
“Isn’t their founder a brother?”
“Yes, he is.”
“I read about him in Essence,” I said unsuccessfully trying to recall the name.
“What’s his name again?” I finally asked Damon who was sipping on his ice tea.
Swallowing, he put his glass down. “Damon,” He answered.
“That’s right,” I said snapping my fingers. “Damon…Damon…Whit…”
He was looking at me with this sly grin. I just sat there staring at him for a moment. According to Essence, Nomad had grossed over ten million in the last two years.
“So, you’re that Damon Whitmore?”
“Actually I’m Damon Whitmore Jr.,” He answered. “My father is the founder and I’m President.”
“Your father is quickly becoming the man in the market.” “Yes, he is,” Damon said, smiling.
I could tell he was proud of his father’s accomplishments. Looking at him I knew he was also reaping the benefits.
“So what are you here doing for Nomad?” I asked.
“I’m here to open our southern region office,” he began. “I’m also looking at some investment property.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I have my own company, also.”
Looking at him with raised eyebrows, I paused and waited for him to elaborate.
“Have you ever heard of Gold Mortgage?” He asked.
He better not say he owns Gold Mortgage. “Well, that’s mine,” he said.
Damn. There was nothing more attractive to me, than a man that could handle his business financially as well as sexually. Not because I was a woman who needed a man to pay her bills; anything I wanted or needed, I worked hard enough to buy myself, but I just appreciated a man that could hold his own.
“You invest in property,” I began. “Then assist low income families with home ownership.”
“That’s right,” He said smiling. He seemed impressed that I knew so much about his company. I believed in staying on the up and up when it came down to the latest business news.
“It’s good to hear of a brother giving back,” I said, sincerely.
“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward. “I try. So tell me. What it is that you do?”
“I’m in the food industry,” I said casually.
“Really, doing what?” He asked.
Normally I didn’t tell men what I did on the first date out of fear that they would start seeing dollar signs. I figured with the type of money Damon was pulling in I could take a chance.
Throwing my hands in the air as if I had just performed a magic trick, I said “Tada.”
Looking around as if he was waiting for something to fall out of midair Damon finally asked, “Here?”
Nodding, I said nothing.
“Manager?” He asked, slowly.
“More like owner.” I laughed.
Sitting back he ran his hand across his head, “Wow, so you’re smart, successful, and sexy.”
Winking my eye at him affectionately, I said, “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”
After we devoured our Cajun chicken and grilled shrimp, we went upstairs to the lounge. Upstairs, Scar, my DJ was playing “When we Make Love” by Ginuwine. Holding my hand, Damon led me to the center of the dance floor. Wrapping his arms around my waist he pulled me close. As our hips swayed in synchronized rhythm, Damon caressed the small of my back with his fingertips. Pressing my breast into the curves of his chest I ran my fingers along the back of his neck until I was cupping his smooth bald head.
I was moving to the music. At the same time I was thinking about how much I would love to wake up with his head between my legs. My kitty-cat was purring and she was calling his name.
After we bumped and grinded to song after song, Damon and I went back to his hotel suite. There was a part of me that wanted to go for it and attempt to get some on the first date, but I decided to wait and let it simmer a little. Sitting and facing each other on the sofa, we shared everything from childhood experiences to our parents, and previous relationships. I’m not the type to air my personal business so I did more listening than I did talking. Damon, on the other hand, was like no other man I had met when it came down to opening up. He talked about his parents Damon and Ilene and how they had been married for thirty years and currently lived in Stone Mountain, Georgia. He also told me about the women he had come into contact with and how the majority of them were either trifling or gold diggers. He claimed this was the reason he was still single, but I knew better. A man like Damon- fine, intelligent, and rich, should be able to fine a decent woman somewhere. I’m thinking if he’s still on the market it’s because he has a little of the four legged pet in him. Meaning he had to be a dog!
“I’m going to run down to the vending machine,” He said, standing to stretch.” Would you like something?”
“Water, if you don’t mind,” I said, letting out a small yawn.
Smiling he told me,” I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 3
Rolling o
ver onto my back I stretched my legs out under the sheets. Opening my eyes I blinked attempting to adjust to the sunlight shinning into the room. I debated on getting a little more rest until I realized I was not at home in my bed. Instead I was still in Damon’s suite.
Sitting up I looked around the room. The door to the bedroom was closed and the other side of the bed was empty with the sheets still intact. I was still fully dressed minus my shoes. Slipping out of the bed I ran my fingers through my hair. Damn!
The bun I had it in the night before had been undone and my hair was now scattered all over my head. I had to tie my hair up every night to prevent a blowout the next morning. I could hear Damon moving in the next room so I decided to slip into the bathroom to make sure my face was clean.
When I entered the bathroom I found a large gift basket sitting on the sink counter. It had a big purple ribbon with my name attached. Ripping the clear wrap open, I smiled as I looked through the contents. There was soap and Noxzema as well as lotion and the basic toiletries. Also inside was a pair of flip-flops and a cute pink DKNY tank shirt with matching shorts. Digging down to the bottom I found scrunches a comb and a brush. He had definitely covered the basics and then some.
After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I took a long hot shower and washed my hair. I brushed my hair and used one of the scrunches to pull it up in a ponytail. I had just finished getting dressed when Damon knocked on the bathroom door.
“Thank y...” My words were interrupted when I opened the door to see him wearing a white tank shirt and dark denim shorts. I could see every ounce of muscle on his arms, chest, and legs. It was a shame that one man should be so fine.
“Thank you.” I finally finished.
“Thank you.” He said, with his eyes fixated on my breast.
The shirt he bought me fit so snug that he could see every slope and curve including my stiff, dark brown nipples.
“For dinner,” He added, raising his eyes to look in mine.
Laughing I slide by him through the doorway. “How did I get in bed?” I asked.
