Two Hot Kisses

by St. John, Yahrah

  Brandon acknowledged the venue but kept the conversation focused on Sasha. She’d always seemed to know exactly what she wanted in college. “Tell me about it.” He wanted to know everything. He wanted to soak up as much as he could about her in the short time they had together.

  “After college, I decided to take a year off to find myself.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I traveled to Europe, mostly, with stops in London, Paris, Barcelona, Vienna, and Germany. I pretty much stayed in youth hostels to keep my costs down. I hooked up with wannabe artists, actors, and musicians all in search of a dream. It was all very grand. Looking back, I don’t regret it. I learned a lot while I was there about art - about structure and contrast and proportion that I hadn’t learned in class. I think it made me a better artist.”

  Wouldn’t you know it? When she stopped talking, they paused in front of a tan-brick building, which just so happened to be an art gallery as evidenced by the floor-to-ceiling exterior windows.

  “Wanna go in?” Sasha asked, her eyes alight with merriment.

  If it would bring that megawatt smile to her face, Brandon would go anywhere. “Let’s do it.”

  Inside, they paid a small fee, then began to roam. The gallery was white, bright with lots of natural light, and had tall ceilings and a maze of twists and turns. Sasha took the lead, pointing out different pieces.

  “What happened when you got back from Europe?” Brandon asked, continuing where they left off in the conversation.

  “I worked at some galleries and painted in my spare time, but it was hard to get my footing in a place where everyone is aspiring to make it big. I felt like a small fish in a very large pond.”

  “I know the feeling,” Brandon said. “I thought I was going to write the great American novel and found myself instead with a slew of rejection letters from publishing houses.” He paused to stop in front of a revealing portrait. “This is intriguing, right? You wonder what she was really thinking.”

  Sasha nodded beside him. “The artist captured a moment in time, and I love the blends of color and textures.”

  “One day one of your pieces could be up here.”

  Sasha shrugged and began moving away. Clearly, he’d said the wrong thing. Brandon stepped quickly to fall back in line with her as she perused the paintings. Eventually, she spoke after a prolonged silence. “Not every artist is meant to have a showing.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “I’m being realistic, Brandon. I’ve been at this for over a decade, and I’m no better than when I started. Except when I was in my twenties, everything seemed possible and now I know otherwise.”

  “You’ve never been a cynic,” Brandon said. The girl he remembered was an idealistic dreamer.

  “And I doubt you’ve ever wondered how you were going to pay next month’s rent,” Sasha quipped.

  She had a point. Although he hadn’t lived hand to mouth, his former job, a minimal yet stable position as a lifestyle reporter for a small newspaper, had allowed him to have a roof over his head and food on the table, albeit not in the finest area of Los Angeles.

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry if I offended you. That wasn’t my intent. I wanted to encourage you.”

  Sasha turned to him, and he was relieved not to see anger lurking in her brown depths.

  “Ah, there’s the Brandon I’ve missed.” She leaned against a wall and regarded him. “You’ve always had a way of calming me and putting me at ease even when I was a complete and utter disaster.”

  “Oh, that’s not true.”

  “Ha.” She laughed without mirth. “C’mon, you can’t forget when I was living with that part-time rock singer who had me doing his papers for him and when I refused to do them anymore, he kicked me out. You graciously allowed me to sleep in your bed until I could find another apartment.”

  “It was no trouble at all.” And it hadn’t been. Those few weeks were some of the best times of Brandon’s life – laughing, talking, watching stupid, funny movies, and making tuna fish and Hamburger Helper into a grand meal.

  “Yeah, well. I’ve never forgotten your act of kindness.”

  “I wish I could say my motives were purely altruistic.”

  Her eyes grew large with bewilderment. “Really? Do tell.”

  Brandon gazed at her as she leaned against the wall. Their eyes caught and held. He became aware of something pulling tight and humming within him. He stepped toward her, his body trapping hers. They stood like that, bodies melded, breath mingling, eyes locked. “You know why, Sasha. I wanted you for myself, but you were always too busy with other men to notice.”

  “I’m noticing now.” She bit down on her lower lip like Brandon would like to do with his own teeth.

  His brow quirked, and then he saw something shift in her bewitching brown eyes. It was subtle, but he sensed she wanted him to kiss her and he would have, but the owner of the gallery was walking toward them. “Hey, lovebirds, we’ll be closing in a few minutes. I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to get your New Year’s Eve started.”

  Oh, I’m eager, Brandon thought. Eager to have Sasha in my bed.

  Sasha couldn’t help but feel the heat coming off Brandon. Her body had craved it, and she wished they hadn’t been interrupted so she could see if he could really kiss.

  She used to think he was good-looking in a bookish sort of way, but Brandon had matured into a grown-ass man who knew how to treat a lady as evidenced by the way his hand moved to the small of her back to guide her out of the gallery and the way he instantly took hold of her hand once they were outside in the cool Manhattan evening air.

  The sun had long since set while they were perusing art, which meant some of the dinner spots would be getting busy if they didn’t get a move on.

  “What are you in the mood for?” she asked and felt herself blush as she realized that her choice of words might sound like an open invitation.

  Brandon laughed, and Sasha sighed with relief. “If you’re talking about dinner, I’m game for whatever you have in mind.”

  And if I’m not talking about dinner? Sasha thought, then berated herself. Stop it. Stop it, Sasha.

  She reminded herself that Brandon was in town for just one night and that getting entangled with him would change the dynamic of their relationship. Still, that didn’t stop her sex from clenching at the notion of getting to know him in the biblical sense in every way imaginable.

  Momentarily, Sasha snapped out of her dreamy thoughts. “I know a great spot that sells the best Indian food in all of New York,” she said, sharing her idea of a good place to get a bite.

  “That sounds like a mighty big promise. I hope it lives up to the hype.”

  “Oh, it will.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in a mom and pop restaurant that barely sat fifty people, but Brandon didn’t complain. Instead, with a smile he sat at the small square table in a wooden chair that made all six foot two of him seem more pronounced.

  “What do you recommend?” he asked as they perused the menu.

  She placed her menu on the table. “Depends. Do you like spicy or curried?”

  “I’ve never tried a curry, and I’m not much on spice except maybe with my women.”

  Sasha grinned. Brandon was flirting with her. “Well, you’ve come to the right place because I have it in spades.”

  The waiter stopped at their table, and before Brandon could respond to Sasha, the waiter asked what they wanted to drink. Sasha requested a Moscow Mule while Brandon opted for a Heineken. She also ordered some tandoori-chicken-stuffed mushrooms and, as an appetizer, onion bhaji, a crispy onion fritter. She was starved. She’d been low on funds recently and living off Ramen noodles. She was going to enjoy this dinner.

  “Are you ready for spicy tonight?” Sasha asked
after the waiter walked away.

  Brandon’s eyes blazed. “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Excellent. Then I recommend chicken tikka masala along with a side of naan. It’s an Indian bread that you’ll love.”

  She knew she was sidestepping, but they were in uncharted territory.

  “And you?”

  “What about me?” She was being purposely obtuse.

  “Are you on the menu?”

  He wasn’t being straightforward. How refreshing.

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “Yes,” Brandon stated without hesitation.

  The waiter returned with their drinks and took their dinner orders. Afterward, they toasted. “To old friends.”

  Dinner was a mix of nervous anticipation of the night ahead and laughing and talking like they used to do. They covered a wide range of topics from music and politics to family.

  In terms of music, Brandon leaned toward old school hip-hop like Tupac. They had a lively debate about new school rap. “The rap today sucks,” Brandon said. “Half the folks can’t rhyme, and they certainly aren’t saying anything. All they talk about is making it rain, sex, and calling women out their names. Old school rap at least had a message.”

  “But you have to admit that some of the new school rap has some good beats. Tell me you aren’t on the dance floor when ‘Salt Shaker’ or ‘Back That Thang Up’ comes on?”

  He pulled a piece of naan from the basket and began munching. “Of course I dance to them, but that doesn’t make it relevant. They just have a good hook.”

  “I never knew you were so conservative.” Sasha laughed, and that’s how the topic of politics made it into the conversation. She discovered that although Brandon was a registered Democrat, he leaned much more to the right. She was staunchly liberal and loved debating with him about anything this evening, from universal healthcare to taxes.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a spirited conversation, but then again, they’d always been able to spar. Tonight showed that Brandon could still give as good as he got.

  Sasha said, “Since we’ve covered politics and music, what’re your views on movies? Me?” — she touched her chest – “I’m a rom-com girl, but I love a good drama. Every year, I try to catch all the Oscar-nominated movies so I can see what all the hype is about.”

  “I love a good blow ‘em up, shoot ‘em up, or comic movie like Black Panther or Avengers,” Brandon said. “But don’t get me wrong. I’m down to watch a good drama like Just Mercy, Queen & Slim, or Harriet.”

  “Really? Most men don’t usually like dramas.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  Brandon certainly wasn’t like the men Sasha dated. Although she considered herself unconventional, she always seemed to find men without any heart or depth. Over the rest of the evening, she learned how Brandon was close to his immediate family of mom, dad, and little sister and had just left visiting them for Christmas.

  Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home. Often, she was at odds with her family, who still lived in Dayton, Ohio, about her lifestyle and refusal to follow the norms and get a stable job.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandon asked.

  “Hmm ...”

  “Your face fell. Is everything okay with your parents?”

  Far from it. Sasha knew she was a disappointment to them with her expensive college education and nothing to show for it, while her older sister, Jasmine, was married and pregnant with their first grandchild. “I guess I’m a bit envious of your tight bond with your family.”

  “You can have the same.”

  She shook her head. “We’re always at odds.”

  “Surely there’s a way you can fix that,” he said, propping his elbows on the table and peering at her.

  “Not likely. I’m a failure in their eyes. Hell, in my eyes. I mean look at me, I haven’t so much as had a showing.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down. You’re extremely talented, Sasha. You can’t lose sight of that.”

  “Are you always such a hopeless optimist?” she retorted, a smile on her lips.

  “I’m not really. I just prefer to look on the bright side. I’ve seen your work.”

  She smiled across the table at him, and that smile morphed into something else entirely when she found air leaving her lungs. “You’re biased. You’re my friend.” But even as she said that six-letter word, it didn’t feel right on her lips. Not anymore.

  She didn’t just want to be his friend.

  She wanted to be his lover.

  Chapter 3

  Somehow, the few short hours in Brandon’s company made Sasha see what could have been, which is why there was no place she’d rather be than here with him.

  The waiter returned to see if they wanted anything else. That’s when Sasha glanced at her phone and realized they’d enjoyed their cardamom ice cream dessert hours ago. Time had flown, and she was supposed to attend her friend Casey Barnes’s house party.

  “Is everything okay?” Brandon asked, making Sasha realize she must have been frowning.

  “No, I’m good. I just forgot that my friend Casey invited me to her New Year’s party at her house.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  “You didn’t. I wanted to be here.”

  She saw his visible sigh of relief. “But if there’s someplace you need to be,” Brandon said, “I can get you a taxi and head back to the hotel.”

  Sasha placed her hands on her hips. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to spend the night with me?”

  Her heart turned over when he grinned slyly. “I did.”

  “Well, then the night isn’t over. If you’re ready to ditch this place, we can head out. We’ll have to take the subway because getting a taxi on New Year’s Eve will be impossible.”

  “Let’s go.”

  After settling the bill, they bundled back up and walked a short distance to the nearest subway stop. Sasha smiled when Brandon paused to slide a couple of singles out of his wallet and slip them into the jar of a homeless man, who sat in a corner of the subway station.

  “That was very kind of you. Most New Yorkers would walk right past him without even looking, me included.”

  “It’s no sweat,” Brandon said as he took care of paying the subway fare. “Those who have, give. If you don’t, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  As they took the escalator down to the platform, they heard reggae and soca music. When they arrived, they spotted a trio of men with a guitar and steel drums. A small crowd had gathered around the performers, and Brandon pulled Sasha toward it.

  “We don’t have time,” Sasha said, but Brandon wouldn’t hear of it and, with Sasha’s hand still in his, he moved them even closer to the crowd. Once there, the music was so infectious that several folks began dancing and winding. Brandon slid his hands around Sasha’s waist and said, “Dance with me.”

  Every feminist bone in her body despaired at his commanding tone and of submitting, but she revolted and instantly stepped into his embrace. She allowed Brandon to lead her into the fray and didn’t resist when he guided her into an easy winding rhythm.

  In fact, she loved it and lost herself in the moment.

  Brandon had waited a lifetime to have Sasha in his arms. It felt good. Right. Like they were meant to be. Predestined.

  The evening couldn’t have been more perfect. It was like old times again, laughing and talking about everything and anything. Except this time, the underlying tension that had always existed between them had been brought to the forefront. Brandon wasn’t hiding anymore behind the friend card. He was making his feelings known. He knew she wanted him too. Wanted more than just friendship, and tonight – was it possible that over a decade later, he could finally have his heart’s
desire?

  As they danced, Brandon knew indeed it was. Perhaps that’s why, when Sasha was mere inches away from his face, their lungs breathing the same sexually charged air, his face naturally leaned in for a gossamer-light kiss. Gone was any awkwardness he might have had. Instead, he reveled in the tender brush of lips on lips.

  The kiss seemed to stun Sasha as much it did Brandon. She lifted her palm to his stubble-roughened cheek, but she didn’t stop him. So Brandon went in for the kill and, parting her lips, he slid his tongue inside to tangle with hers. He kissed her with passion and with purpose that made the past between them irrelevant. Her body heat warmed him up against the chill of the New York subway and erased from his mind any thought of where he was.

  Sasha lifted her hands and circled them around his neck while her breasts pressed against his chest, melding her to him. Brandon heard a thick noise in his throat as she kissed him back. His hands encircled the small of her back, moving it upward and downward. They probably would have gone on and on kissing in those few blissful moments if the crowd hadn’t begun applauding, jolting them out of oblivion.

  They pulled away and stared at one another as if they’d never seen each other before. Sasha looked as startled as Brandon by the ferocious intensity of their hot kisses – kisses that had been nearly twelve years in the making. The crowd’s chanting and cheering grew louder, which embarrassed Sasha, and she rushed away from Brandon down the platform.

  Brandon stared after her for several beats before one man yelled, “Go get her, tiger!” At that moment, he realized that Sasha was running away from him not to him. Brandon’s adrenaline surged, and quickly, he dashed toward Sasha, catching her within seconds.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She stopped walking, and he nearly ran into the back of her. She spun around to face him. “A-are you okay?” she asked back. “After that – that last kiss?” Is he regretting it? she anxiously wondered.

  Sasha seemed to have enjoyed that kiss as much as Brandon had. He’d felt when her nipples had tightened into buds against his chest. “No, I’m not,” he answered honestly. “But I don’t regret what just happened.”