“You know what they say about payback, right?” Omar said in a low, husky voice.
Stacy nodded. “I can hardly wait. But in the meantime, I have some scented massage oil in that drawer.” She indicated the small nightstand beside her bed.
“You were ready,” Omar remarked.
“I was working up my nerve. But then you popped up at my door.” Stacy sat up and pulled her hair into a loose bun before turning onto her stomach. “We’ll save the best for last.” Then she settled in place, fully anticipating his first touch on her naked skin.
“Towels? We might get messy.” Omar followed her hand signals to the area in her closet dedicated to the linens.
He retrieved two beach towels and spread one under her. When he made no move to touch her, she looked over her shoulder. He stood near the windows, turning the shades so that the room dimmed. Then he turned off the light, leaving only the bathroom light, and, with the door partially closed, it satisfactorily muted the brightness. One last adjustment and they’d be set. She turned on her CD player. Once the heavy bass pounded through the speakers, she hit the button to eject. This was not the time for booty-shaking, raucous lyrics. She thumbed through her old-school pile and selected Anita Baker. This was the time to use crooning love songs as a backdrop for the real thing.
“You’re making me work too hard for this,” Stacy said, as she settled back into position with the blanket loosely covering her behind.
“You can’t rush quality.”
With those words, Omar’s hands, lathered with oil, lightly brushed her back. He moved around her entire back as if his fingers wanted to learn the nuances of her physique. Meanwhile, the light pressure caused goose bumps as her body primed for his sensual touch. She groaned appreciatively, too lazy to form words of appreciation.
“I feel some tightness here.” He circled an area on her lower back. “And here.” His hands slid southward. Stacy drew in a trembling breath. “Oh, and here.” His fingers stroked the top of the split in her behind. “But I’m sure that I can relax it with a little of this.” His hand rubbed the fullness of each cheek. She fought the urge not to bite her pillow. She couldn’t play the queen and then crumble at the first onslaught to her nervous system.
After he had paid the proper amount of attention to her lower back and beyond, he provided her legs with long, skillful strokes. The deep pressure was the perfect solution, since she had worked out particularly hard on her treadmill.
“Right there,” she directed, approving his technique on her ankle joint. “Gosh, you’re good. Didn’t expect an expert, but I’m not complaining.”
“I’ve got a few tricks. If you had given me my three dates, you would have learned all about it.”
Stacy turned over onto her back and stretched with a slow, liquid grace. “Hmm…you’re going to be a stickler for your rules on dating.” She traced a line down the center of her body, trailing her finger between her breasts and over her stomach. She paused over her belly button and granted him her widest smile. “You are Omar Masterson. Youngest sibling. Women love your big brown eyes. Men hate your fine good looks. You are slightly afraid of your big brother, Pierce. You’re used to having your own way. Only your sisters can push you around, or baby you with their attention.”
“Not bad.” He bathed her leg with the scented oil, gliding his hand up the side of her body and over the top of her chest.
Stacy swore that her eyes crossed for a few seconds before she could regain focus. Two could play at this game. She reached for his hips, acknowledging his muscles tightening beneath her fingers. Casually, she brushed her thumbs along the sides of the dense, coarse hairs, a forewarning of where her hands would go next.
He bared his teeth and uttered a decidedly wicked hiss before a dangerous smirk crossed his face. He lowered his mouth to her breast, tasting her with an intense ferocity that lit up her insides. As he connected with her breast, she craved a similar connection between her thighs. The thought had her blushing.
When he nudged her legs apart, she obeyed. Her body lay poised, aching for the initial contact, sensitive and moist for his entry. He paused for a second too long. She wrapped her legs around his hips, interlocking her ankles, and arched up to meet him. No sooner had they touched than he buried himself deep within her, as if no further introduction were necessary.
The music set a beat for their primal rhythm. Stacy ground her pelvis to meet Omar’s thrusts. Their grunts and moans punctuated the air in the master bedroom. She turned her head into his cheek, enjoying the roughness of the evening stubble along his jawline. Their mouths met in a tangle of lips and tongues overladen with passion. Some part of her wanted a moment to catch her breath. Another part of her didn’t want to break contact merely for a chance to breathe. As Omar drove deeper into her, she gasped at the peak of climax. She shut her eyes tightly, twitching with each wave matched by Omar’s spasms. All of his massaging was wasted as her muscles locked until they were both spent.
In his arms, she slowly drifted back to reality, her head spinning. She’d never equated satisfying sex with an appetite, but after that workout, she wanted a juicy piece of steak and thick, fat French fries smothered in ketchup. Omar tightened his arm around her and she decided that food could wait. There were other matters that warranted her attention. She smiled up at Omar. He groaned in mock protest. But a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The next day, Omar sat in the restaurant booth, waiting for Stacy to return from the restroom. There was a fairly good crowd for lunch that had caused them to wait for forty minutes to be seated. Stacy had been pretty adamant that she wanted to come to the steak house. Besides, he was hungry, too. Coming here together after their marathon lovemaking session would give them time to talk.
“Ordered the drinks yet?” Stacy slid into the seat across from him.
Omar nodded. “Just need you to decide on your entrée.”
“Don’t need a menu.” Stacy tapped her temple.
Just then the waiter returned with their sodas. Omar placed his order while Stacy quenched her thirst. Based on his intimate knowledge of her size, he guessed that she was a grilled-chicken-with-steamed-vegetables type of woman. He personally wasn’t going that route and ordered the highly advertised surf-and-turf platter with his steak done medium well.
Stacy winked at him, then turned her attention to the waiter. “I’m going to have the Hearty Fisherman’s Platter.”
“Fried or broiled?”
“Fried, of course.” Once the waiter left again, she turned to Omar. “I’ve had to eat veggies and salads for the past six months for the role. Now I’m going to splurge.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Omar raised his hands and winked.
“Give me a break. I saw the look in your eyes, as if you could see the pounds practically glue themselves to my body.”
“Only looking out for your arteries,” he remarked, half jokingly. He couldn’t help himself. His mother’s early death from a heart attack was forever etched in his memory. “Forget I said that.” Where did that sad thought come from? As the youngest, he hadn’t had the advantage of his mother’s care and attention in his teen years.
In good time, the waiter returned with plates that covered most of the table surface. Omar’s mouth watered from the rich, seasoned aromas.
“I really am sorry that I didn’t contact you when I returned. I wanted to, but Brenda…” Stacy dropped her fork onto the plate. “What am I saying? Look, it wasn’t Brenda. Not that she’s thrilled about our friendship. I didn’t call because…well, darn it, I got scared. I hadn’t been with a man since Antonio. And that ordeal wasn’t the model for loving relationships.”
He liked her honesty. She threw it out there with a challenging tone. If she only knew that in the beginning, he’d felt that he was moving faster than he was used to doing. No woman had ever captured his interest with such intensity. Along with that realization, he had a growing sense that he wanted this long-term.
“To our fresh start. May there be many more in our future.” Omar raised his glass and tapped hers.
“Hear hear!”
They finished their meal with a heated discussion of what football teams would make it to the Superbowl. Funny how at one time, he’d preened over his title as a ladies’ man. Suddenly that seemed so superficial. Stacy’s depth of knowledge might not be academic, but she exhibited such intelligence about a wide variety of matters. He enjoyed speaking to someone who was his equal, rather than someone whose only interest was in being a short-term distraction.
“Now I’m stuffed.” Stacy pushed away the plate and groaned.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“Walk? Are you crazy? I need to lie down and catch up on my sleep.”
“You’ll thank me for the walk. There’s got to be a park nearby where we could get in a fifteen-minute walk.
“I’ll decide on the thanking part when I’m done.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Then let’s go.” Omar signaled the waiter, paying the bill as quickly as he could.
He didn’t have far to drive before he turned into an upscale neighborhood, guessing that it would have a walk path around a common area. Sure enough, there was a man-made lake with the required small paved path circling it.
“This is absolutely gorgeous,” Stacy exclaimed, hurrying out of the car before he got a chance to open his door.
He followed her running steps toward the path. “Could you slow down before I keel over?”
“Oh, so now you want to take it easy,” she shouted over her shoulder.
Omar could hear her faint laughter despite the wind carrying off its full effect. Always up to a challenge, he pushed to catch up. He’d just discovered another thing about Stacy. She was either a past or a current runner. Unless she took pity on him soon, there was no way that he would be able to catch up.
He passed a large flat-topped boulder on his right. Bingo. He veered off his course and sat. Stacy hadn’t turned around yet. He hoped that she wouldn’t disappear around the corner before noticing that he wasn’t following. Other runners and speed walkers passed his rest spot. Could they look less pleased with themselves? He’d like to meet them all on the tennis court. It had been a while, but he was sure that he could still serve a few aces.
“Hey, slowpoke.” Stacy approached from behind, a huge grin in place.
“I got caught up with the surroundings and wanted to admire.”
She sat next to him, chuckling. “Thanks, I feel better.”
“Good for you,” he replied irritably. He wished that she would stop giggling. “I drove us here. So I can leave you here, if you don’t show a little humility.”
Stacy cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’ll be good. Want to split a stick of gum with me?”
Omar accepted her peace offering. He couldn’t have planned this any better. Spending an afternoon in the park with Stacy was a better treat after the meal than any dessert choice.
“Ready?” Omar stretched his back. The boulder, although handy, was not exactly comfortable.
“Back to reality, huh?”
Omar nodded.
“What are your plans for tomorrow? Think you can get away for lunch?” Stacy asked.
“I’ll certainly make the time. The job has irked my nerves to the limit.” Omar briefly shared his frustration with Stacy. “I’m not going to take that mess.”
“Yeah, well, I guess they want you to pay your dues. Look at it from their point of view. You’re a young kid.” She raised her hand at his protest. “I know, I know. In their eyes, you’re their sons’ age. And here you come with your ideas when they have been at it years, making mad money.” She playfully nudged his knee with hers. “Your time will come.”
“First, you sound as if you’re a hundred years old doling out advice. Second, the president liked my idea. It’s my boss who had an issue.” Omar kicked at a pebble. His irritation was barely submerged.
“Want to share your idea?” Stacy prodded.
Omar shook his head. He stared out at the park, not really taking in the outdoor scene. Why set himself up for another pat on the head? Now that he was ready to step up and be a man with a plan, someone was there to flick their finger and knock him back down.
“Then let’s go.” Stacy rose from the seat and walked past him.
Omar grimaced, sensing that Stacy was miffed that he’d cut her out. He jogged to catch up. “Hey, didn’t mean to come off so cold, but I don’t think you understand how unfair it all is.”
She didn’t answer. They headed back to the car.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Stacy said. “I’m only talking from my experience. Everyone expects you to pay your dues. You don’t have to sell your soul, but the faster you realize that this is what people expect, then their reaction doesn’t come as a surprise.” She turned in her seat to face him. “I promise not to laugh at anything you tell me.” She crossed her heart and held up her hand.
Omar laughed. “It’s not a big deal. I think that a series of minidocumentaries geared to teens and young adults would add some balance to the current programming of music videos, celebrity reality shows and other popular shows. I want to provide beneficial information and resources for kids in trouble.”
“I think it’s wonderful. No, actually it’s darn brilliant.” Stacy smiled a wide, approving grin. “Don’t let your boss get away with dismissing your idea so easily.”
“What happened to the paying-your-dues soundtrack?” Omar teased.
“I just figured that you might have been asking for the window, the corner office.” She punched his arm.
They arrived back at the restaurant for dinner. A new crowd had replaced the twelve o’clock lunch group. From outside, Omar could see that three suits sat in the booth he had shared with Stacy. The timing was perfect.
“This was a good eating spot,” Omar said. “Next time, I’m taking you to my favorite hangout.”
“We’ll see.” Stacy backed away from him. “I haven’t turned over the steering to you yet.” She blew him a kiss and then tossed her hair over her shoulder before sashaying down the sidewalk.
“Riding shotgun may not be so bad at all,” he muttered under his breath. His eyes never shifted from her receding great figure before she turned the corner. Omar took his shades out of his pocket, slipped them on, jammed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward his job.
There were some afternoons when you just had to say whatever. The day was great. Lunch was great. His girl was great. He’d have to rethink that one. If she was playing head pilot, then she should be asking him if they wanted to go together. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“Hey, Omar.”
“Got a question,” Omar said.
“I’m listening.”
“Shouldn’t you be asking me to be your steady beau?”
“I thought that was already established.”
“Nope. I’m feeling the need for more than a one-night stand.” Omar ignored the curious glances as he walked and talked on his cell phone. What did he care if they heard? They’d never see him again.
“The more you give, the more they want.” Stacy gave an exaggerated sigh. “Stop by tonight and I’ll make it official.”
Omar grinned with the unexpected plans for the evening. This was truly a beautiful afternoon. He could sing in the rain, snow, hail or sunshine and perform his own tap dance of happiness.
Stacy snapped the phone closed, pressing it to her lips where a soft, dreamy smile played. She added a bounce to her step as she entered the office building to meet with Brenda.
She practically sang an afternoon greeting to the secretary. Looking at the time, she surmised that she had four hours before Omar’s arrival. After catching up with Brenda on a few items, she would have the afternoon to herself.
“Stacy, have a
seat.”
Brenda finished her conversation on the phone while Stacy opted for the edge of Brenda’s desk. She was too wired to sit still for long and took to pacing in the office. A light pop tune came to mind and she hummed unashamedly as she stared out of the expansive office windows. The traffic below zipped through the maze of buildings like busy bees on a mission. Some days she simply wanted to retreat from the hectic pace and ponder anything but what she was obligated to do.
“Earth to Stacy, what’s got your attention wrapped so tight?” Brenda came over and stood next to her.
“Nothing much. Wondering what you’ve got for me.” Stacy tried to keep a certain level of enthusiasm in her voice.
“How would you like to lend your voice to animation? A project is already in progress.” Brenda held both hands up for a high five. When Stacy didn’t respond, her hands slowly drifted down to the desk.
“I’m excited, but I want to hear more details. I don’t have a particularly special voice.”
“Stop that nonsense. You have a powerful voice. I remember that young girl at the Open Mike in Little Havana. Small body with a powerful voice. You had everyone eating out of your hand. When you sing and rap, your attitude changes,” Brenda said. “This is great exposure, Stacy. It’s what you wanted.”
Stacy tried to push her way through the objections that quickly came to mind. For one, she didn’t know why she should have reservations. After all, there were probably bona fide celebrities who would love to have their legacy permanently marked by a children’s animation feature. “Who is backing this film?”
“The company that produces a lot of the shows on the Children’s Cable TV Network.”
“What’s the character?”
“A girl who wants to be a rapper, rebels and wants to quit school to follow her dream. Don’t you think it’s ironic?” Brenda asked.
“Did they know about my background?” Stacy frowned, ready to go after Brenda if she had told this company any of her personal history.
Straight to the Heart Page 7
