by Tia Sirrah
"Come to L.A. with me," he asked as we approached my building.
"I can’t miss school. I have exams coming up before spring break." We strolled towards the elevator together, hand in hand.
"Are you free next weekend? I’ll send the jet back for you."
It was so tempting, but I wasn’t going to just drop everything at the last minute. "I can’t. Next weekend is my dad’s birthday, and we’re going out to dinner. The weekend after that, Fatima and I are going to a concert. When will you be back?"
"I’m not sure. Two to three weeks tops."
I wrapped my arms around his waist as we stood and waited for the elevator. "If you’re still there for a third weekend, I’ll join you." That seemed to appease him a little.
We made out fervidly in the elevator, all the way up to the sixth floor. Our faces were flushed when we exited the elevator and his erection, massive. I was frazzled and completely turned on. I smoothed a hand down my curls, and he adjusted himself. Upon approaching my door, we were frantically kissing again, him gripping my backside, and my hands threading through his silky strands of hair. "I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in," I said against his mouth.
He nodded, and his eyes closed briefly, as we steadied our breaths. "Right. Okay." He pressed his lips to my forehead and gave me the gentlest of kisses.
"I want you, Conner." I ran a hand down his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles. "But it’s too soon for me."
"It’s okay," he assured me as he smiled softly. "You’re worth the wait." We kissed some more but parted from each other before things got carried away.
I exhaled deeply and wrapped my arms around myself, as I watched him walk toward the elevator. "I’ll call you when I land." He stepped inside the opened elevator doors.
"I look forward to it," I said, leaning against my doorframe.
Once inside my place, I rested my forehead against my door. I needed some musical therapy, stat. Scrolling through my phone, I found just the song. Leela James’ soulful voice crooned Fall For You out of my surround sound, singing all the words that were bottled up in my heart.
Chapter 5
BY THE THIRD WEEKEND of Conner’s business trip, I was crushing pretty hard for him and couldn’t wait to see him in person. I looked forward to our daily text messages and nightly video chats. We talked about work, family facts, future aspirations, sports, and past college antics. Things we didn’t discuss - exes and childhoods. Neither one of us asked, and the other didn’t volunteer information.
During his time in Los Angeles, his picture was frequently posted in the gossip blogs. He attended various red-carpet functions, sans the usual arm candy. The blogs were beginning to call Conner a bore, due to the sudden decrease in salacious nights that usually involved a hot chick by his side. I kept my schedule open during his final weekend in L.A., hoping that he would re-extend the invitation for me to join him. That invite never came. Seems like much hadn’t changed since high school. While others were out partying the night away on a Friday night, I was home alone, sitting in front of my sewing machine in my p.j.s.
It was getting late, and I hadn’t heard from Conner all day. I shook off my melancholy, refusing to let his absence dictate my mood. Deciding that I had had enough of looking over at my phone and willing it to ring, I headed for my vanity mirror. Today had been a long day, its evidence marred on my pale face and puffy eyes. I decided to apply a charcoal face mask before brushing my teeth. The buzzing of my cell phone indicated an incoming message. The giddiness I felt made me sick. Hearing or not hearing from Conner shouldn't have impacted my mood the way it did. Yet, here I was, with my toothbrush in my mouth, rushing to my phone which sat on my bed.
Conner, 12:43am
Are you up?
Novalee, 12:43am
Yeah. Still up.
Conner, 12:43am
Skype?
Novalee, 12:45am
Sure. Give me 10 minutes.
After scrubbing my face, I inspected my curls that were carelessly plopped on top of my head, secured by hair clips. Dressed in my usual bedtime attire, a cotton tank and knit shorts, I grabbed my laptop and headed to bed. My cell phone vibrated beside me. A message from Fatima had come through. I absentmindedly swiped my phone and pressed play on her video message.
Her cell phone camera rotated around a packed nightclub. Sweaty bodies swayed, twerked, and two-stepped to Nicki Minaj’s Feeling Myself, which boomed loudly from the disc jockey’s speakers. Suddenly Fatima’s face appeared on the screen while she danced and chanted along to the lyrics. A Chris Brown look-a-like with a neck tattoo gyrated behind her, kissing on her neck, and whispering in her ear, before the video clip ended.
Novalee, 12:56am
I see you’re having fun. Be safe! Love you!
As I pressed send, a Skype notification appeared on my laptop. I adjusted my screen and answered the call. Conner appeared on screen in all his sexy glory. I had an incredibly mouth-watering view of the top portion of his bare chest before he adjusted the screen to view his face. His hair was damp and unruly, seemingly from a fresh shower. The stubble on his chiseled face was darker than he usually kept it. His eyes looked tired. "Did I wake you?" he asked, in a gravelly voice cloaked with sleepiness.
"No, I was up sewing. Another long day at the office?"
He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. "No. I took a personal day."
"Oh, that’s good." My insecurities haunted me. He took the day off, yet was too busy to call me? I hated the neediness that I had developed over the last few weeks.
He brought a tumbler up to his lips. He swallowed a few big gulps of amber fluid. I offered a sad smile. "Wanna talk about it?" I asked, sensing his somber mood.
"Not really. I just wanted to see your face, hear your voice." He refilled his glass, revealing a bottle of expensive bourbon. "Tell me about your day," he urged, as he focused on pouring.
I paused, debating on how to proceed with this conversation. "I aced my Pediatric Dentistry exam today. And after I work, I spent most of the evening in front of my sewing machine."
"That’s cool, babe. And congrats on the exam." He downed the tumbler’s contents.
"How much have you had to drink?" I asked.
He only shrugged. "Today was a shitty day for me. But I don’t want to talk about." He brushed his fingers across his computer screen. "You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?" He slurred his words ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure as he downed another glass of bourbon. "I have to stay out here for one more day. There have been a few hiccups with the Yorba Linda project. I have to hash some things out with the city commissioner tomorrow night over dinner."
"That’s unfortunate." Worry gnawed at me. What happened today that had provoked him to drink excessively?
"Can I see you on Sunday?" he asked. "I fly back that morning."
"I’d like that."
"Maybe we can go on a real date. Have dinner or go to a movie. Some shit like that." His hand still grasped the bottle of bourbon when he scratched his eyebrow with the tip of his finger.
"A real date, huh? That sounds nice. How about you come over to my place on Sunday? I’ll cook dinner for us."
"You cook?" he asked before taking a swig from the bottle. My smile faltered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Yeah, I’m a pretty good cook. Any dietary restrictions?" Guys with bodies like Conner’s probably only drank icky protein shakes and raw vegetables.
"Nope. I’ll eat whatever you serve." My thighs clenched. "What can I bring?" His eyes were droopy.
"Nothing, just yourself, sober," I quipped.
"I’m sorry, babe." He tossed the now empty bottle aside. "I fucked up, didn’t I?"
"I’m worried about you, that’s all. You said you don’t wanna talk about it, yet you call me while getting shit-faced."
He snorted out a laugh. "You sound fucking adorable when you curse." I didn’t find it amusing, and the look on my face must have
alerted him to that fact. "I’m sorry," he said, in a more serious tone. "I shouldn’t have called you." The camera moved out of focus for a moment, then refocused on his face, his cheek resting on a pillow. He appeared to be lying on his side, on the mattress. "I fucked up. Just don’t be mad. I’m a fuck up."
My face contorted in pain, as I looked at Conner through my screen. I ran my fingers along the image of his face, and he did the same, dragging his fingers along mine. His blinks became slower, as his heavy-laden eyes focused on me. I assured him, "I’m not mad at you." I’m sad for you. I mimicked his posture, lying down and situating my laptop beside my pillow.
"I really wanna fuck you," he said, dispassionately. "I can’t wait to feel your pussy around my dick. I bet it’s so goddamn tight." His pale green eyes looked otherworldly, like vampire eyes glowing in the dark. "The things I’m going to do to you, Novalee. You have no fucking idea." The tone of his voice was impersonal, and wickedness shone in his jeweled eyes.
This would have been hot if he wasn’t plastered drunk. Nevertheless, I was instantly aroused. "Conner, you’re drunk right now. Maybe we should continue this conversation when you’re sober."
He let out a sardonic laugh. "Such a good girl, and I’m such a sick bastard. If I were a better man, I would leave you alone. But I can’t. I’m won’t. Instead, I’m going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours until you choke on my dick." My breath caught in my chest. "Then I’m going to fuck that tight pussy of yours, before I fuck that sweet ass of yours. I’m going to ravish your body, angel. With my fingers, with my tongue, and with my dick."
My hand was now in my panties, and I rubbed the sensitive parts of me. "Oh, really? Well, I don’t do back door."
His mouth curved sardonically. "Don’t worry. I won’t rush you. I’ll use my tongue and my fingers first, until you beg for it."
My nipples were hard as diamonds, rubbing against my white tank. "So arrogant."
"It’s only fair."
"What’s only fair?" I asked, breathlessly.
"You’ve ruined me for every other woman. It’s only fair that I ruin you for every other man." His eyes dilated to a smoky gray. "I’m addicted to you, and we haven’t even fucked yet. I haven’t even tasted your sweet pussy yet. Which, by the way, I’m going to need to do every fucking day, angel."
"You’re a sex fiend." My breath quickened as I savored his words while enjoying the close-up view of his flawless face.
"Why do people always say that?" he asked, the slur of his words thickening under his alcohol-induced stupor. "Don’t get me wrong," he said, as he closed his eyes, "I love to fuck, but I also fuck to forget." My hand stilled in my panties. It felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown on my libido. "You’re like an angel. So pure," he said. His eyes now opened to slits. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "How do I do it?"
"Do what, babe?" My voice croaked, and I furrowed my brows.
"Forget," he answered with a tormented look on his face. "How the fuck do I forget? It’s all so fucked up." He closed his eyes again. "Every goddamn day. So fucked up." His breathing slowed; his mouth slightly agape.
A teardrop leaked out of the corner of my eye and landed on my pillow. Then another tear from the opposite eye, trailing across the bridge of my nose. "Conner?" He didn’t answer, the only sound coming from him was a light snore. I watched his sleeping face, his model-esque features now relaxed. My boyfriend was a beautiful, tortured soul. I ran my fingertips along the screen again, outlining the planes of his face.
I didn’t disconnect the call that night. I snuggled under my blankets, still facing the laptop. His light snores lulled me into a deep slumber.
∞∞∞
RETCHING NOISES STARTLED ME awake. The laptop shone brightly in my eyes, and it took me a while to focus. The Skype call was still connected, but Conner was no longer in view. I sat up in bed and placed the laptop on my lap. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I squinted and read the time on my screen. 7:25am. The sound of a toilet flushing was followed by the sound of running water from a faucet. Soon after, Conner appeared on screen, resting his head against the headboard of his bed. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken. His bed-hair was tousled. "Hey, babe," he said with a gruff voice.
"Good morning." I yawned.
"I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck." He massaged his temples with his fingers.
I pouted my lips, feeling genuinely sorry for his condition. I’d been there before, numbing my pain with alcohol. Was Conner mourning over another woman? Did someone irrevocably betray his trust? What was he trying to forget?
"I don’t really remember much from last night. Was I a total ass?"
I blinked a couple of times before responding. "Do you remember anything about our conversation last night?"
"No. What happened? Was I a dick to you?" He looked concerned.
"No. Just drunk. We didn’t talk for long. You fell asleep." He scrubbed his face and raked his fingers through his mane. "Conner, you worried me last night."
"I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m fine. Just a bad day. That’s all."
We had only known each other for about a month. I didn’t expect him to divulge all his deepest and darkest secrets, after such a short time. Conner seemed like a proud man who detested vulnerability. Hopefully, in time, he would let me in. And hopefully, in time, I would do the same. "Take a couple of Advil and drink lots of water. I hope you won’t be too hungover during your dinner with the commissioner tonight."
"Nothing I can’t handle."
I had so many questions. "I have to be at work soon. I’d better get ready."
"Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow when I get back."
"Can’t wait. Take care of yourself. Have a safe flight."
After we disconnected, my phone vibrated.
Amy, 7:35am
Miss you lots!
Novalee, 7:36am
Hey hun! Miss you too! Hope you're having a great time. Can’t wait to see you! There’s so much I have to tell you. So much has happened.
Amy, 7:37am
What’s going on? Sounds juicy. Meet a guy?
Novalee, 7:37am
I have, and you know him. Too much to tell over text. This conversation must be had f2f.
Amy, 7:42am
Come on! No name? You have to give me something!
Novalee, 7:42am
Ok. Ok. Conner Brathwaite.
I stared at my phone, watching the dots swim around on my screen. Amy was forming a reply, but the dots stopped, and the message never came through. I yawned and snuggled back between my sheets for a few minutes, before heading to the shower.
∞∞∞
THE SAUSAGE AND CHICKEN jambalaya simmered on the stove. I checked on the consistency of the whiskey sauce for my bread pudding and turned off the stove burner. The Cajun spices from the jambalaya seeped through every room of my apartment.
While setting the table, I called Fatima. She was a bit leery of Conner and I being an item, fearing that his womanizing days were not far behind him. "If you like him, I love him. But if he hurts you, I’m going to fuck him up," she warned.
"I’m a big girl, cousin." I folded the last dinner napkin before heading to the bathroom. I gave myself a once-over and applied an extra coat of nude gloss to my lips.
"What are you wearing?"
"I’m wearing a mini black wrap dress with a deep V neckline."
"Okay, cousin. I see you, boo. You should wear those gold heeled sandals that you bought last week."
"Great minds think alike. I have them on right now."
"I’m dying over here! Send me a pic!"
"Okay. One sec." I puckered my lips and took a selfie. "Check your phone. I just sent it."
"Okay, hold up."
I spritzed myself with some perfume while I waited for Fatima’s critique. "Damn, girl. Conner will be weak in the knees."
"I look okay?"
"Yass! I’m loving how you’re channeling your inner diva. Big hair
, don’t care. But you need to swap out that gloss for some red lipstick."
"Yeah, I think you’re right." I replaced my black septum piercing with a gold one, before wiping my gloss off and applying a cherry red lip liner and red matte lipstick.
Fatima and I chatted some more while I touched up my hair and makeup. I sent her another selfie with my final look, to which she approved. "Save me some leftovers, by the way. Your cooking is always on point."
"I got you," I giggled. "I’ll call you later tonight."
"Call me tomorrow. You may be a little preoccupied tonight."
Just then, the doorbell rang. "Fatima, he’s here. I’ll call you later, okay?"
"Okay, bet. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye, cousin. Get some!" she called out before I disconnected the call.
I walked out to the living room and lit a scented candle. I then turned on some music from my playlist. Bilal’s Never Be The Same played at a low decibel. The soft sounds resounded throughout my twelve hundred square foot apartment. I took a deep, steadying breath and opened the front door. For a moment, Conner’s eyes were focused on his wrist, as he adjusted his limited edition Gronefeld Tourbillon Parallax wristwatch. When he casually looked up at me, he froze momentarily, stunned in silence. My body immediately heated under his lustful gaze.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey, yourself."
"You look fucking amazing," he said as his sharp eyes traveled up and down my body. His show-stopping good looks made the pulse in my neck quicken. His jaw was smooth and clean-shaven, which only made his immaculate features more pronounced. His smooth face, sans his usual stubble, gave the false appearance of a proper genial man. But those eyes…there was nothing proper in the way they looked at me.
"Thank you." I shyly smiled, taking him in from head to toe. "Please, come in. Welcome to the inside of mi casa." I stepped aside, and he walked into my apartment. Its spacious open floor plan now seemed too small. As soon as I closed the door, he pulled me into a hot, erotic kiss that melted my insides. His lips were so soft, his tantalizing tongue mingling with mine. We kissed until we were both breathless.