To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1)

by Sylvia Sinclair

  “Played around, past tense.”

  “The only one you need to be playing with is Ramón, unless you have any other guys lined up.”

  “My love life is about as dry as a new tampon.” She turned off the ignition, removed the keys, took her purse in hand, and opened the door.

  Maya sounded energetic. “You need to change that. The way you questioned me about Ramón, the way you seemed to be when you told me about the two of you; I’d never seen you like that. Just call him, go see him, talk to him. But hell, don’t tell him every damn thing.”

  Shasta was certain she would not see him. All that was in her head was trying to not imagine Maya with the Bain’s. “I don’t think so.” She entered the house and headed straight to the alarm keypad, entering her code.

  “Just tell him that I admitted to lying. You want me to call him?”

  She tossed her key and her purse. “Uh, no. So, what’s up? You love Tyson or something?”

  “Hell no. But I will tell you one thing. He’s attentive and giving. He’s funny and smart. And he doesn’t make love like the men I’ve been with. He’s tender and, well, you know the rest.”

  She said firmly, plopping down on the sofa in the living room. “I do not. I played with him. He did me and I did him, but we never did a thing beyond in his office. Well, a couple of times a year we’d have weekend meals out somewhere, but he went home, and I went home.”

  “Wow. Shasta, I can’t help but to wonder; if I had met him when he was single, I think I would have definitely been into him.”

  “Well, he’s not single, and you can’t expect him to ever leave her or be with you and be faithful. If he played with you, he’ll play on you.” She took off her shoes.

  “Reality is that I don’t want him to myself. But this taught me that I do want to try dating other white men. I was told they cater to you more, and that they try harder, just because of the challenges, and that they protect you more than a black man.”

  Shasta was amazed. “You were told? Well I’m telling you, white is a trip, just like black is. Don’t assume things will be different.”

  “I don’t want to assume. I want to find out. I wanna try and find my own Caucasian man. A single Caucasian man. I’m tired of spending important days alone, like Valentine’s Day and Christmas. I’m thinking about doing interracial online dating. And I’m telling you now, my tag line is gonna be, ‘Looking for Mr. Tall, White, and Handsome.’”

  Shasta raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I need to explore it. Obviously I’ve missed something.”

  “Jeez. I never would’ve predicted it. I’m still shocked you’ve even been with Tyson.”

  “I’m shocked you were with Ramón.”

  “I guess you never know. Honestly, I never thought Tyson would be down with the swirl.”

  “Or, the nappy dugout?”

  A laugh escaped Shasta’s mouth. “That too.”

  “Well, he definitely is. And his wife is too.”

  “I see that.”

  “I guess you kinda know nappy yourself now, huh?”

  “Stop.” Shasta leaned her head back just as her phone beeped. She looked at it and read the message. “Wow. Ramón just texted me saying he quit his position, too.” She didn’t tell what the second text said.

  Ramón: I want a chance with u so badly that I finally took this picture and did this video.

  “Call him. Go see him. Something.”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at the photo of him wearing a Spurs jersey, frowning. And the video was of him finally doing the ice-bucket challenge. He said in the video that the Spurmaids won the series. She then said, “Fool,” just as the volume ended.

  “Are you there? Who are you calling a fool?”

  “Not you. I was just looking at my phone.”

  Ramón: Now you owe me a vagina selfie

  Shasta laughed inside.

  Maya said, “Shasta, like I said, I’m ready to try something different. We both need to. This same old isn’t working. So call him.”

  “What you need to do is let go of a married man.”

  “I will. But not just yet.”

  There was the sound of a horn. Shasta asked, “Where are you headed?”

  “To Nordstrom at Phipps Plaza. I’m looking for this Michael Kors bag. It’s this cute navy tie-dye that I’ve been looking for, and I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “That does sound cute. I hope you find it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Shasta told her, “By the way, I’m leaving tomorrow to drive to Augusta to see my father.”

  “You are? Well be safe.”

  “I will. I guess you’ll be online, looking for Mr. White?”

  “Ha-ha-ha. Yes indeed!”

  Shasta stood. “Sorry about everything. Maya.”

  “Me too. And I’m sorry I called you a bitch.”

  “Bye, B.”

  “Bye, B.”

  Shasta pressed End, kind of smiling, heading to her bedroom while selecting Messages.

  Shasta: Maya loves Michael Kors handbags. A blue tie-dye.

  Misty Bain: Got it. Thx!

  Chapter 14

  Johns Creek, GA

  Late that night, unable to sleep at two in the morning, after five calls and seven text messages from Ramón, Shasta, who lay in her black and pink nightie, wondered if it was her horniness that seemed to be urging her to reply, which would surely seem to be correct if she texted him during booty call hours, or if it was her fervent desire to tell him what Maya had admitted. Her fingers made the decision.

  Shasta: Come over now please.

  He did not reply, but thirty minutes later, she heard the doorbell.

  She was already in the living room after lighting vanilla and rosemary jar candles, the only bit of light in the place. She had dabbed a bit of sweet orange oil behind her ears.

  He rang the doorbell again.

  She opened the door. He said nothing as he strolled in. She said nothing and closed the door. She turned in the midst of the awkward silence, seriously looking at him from head to toe. She thought again that he looked like Kevin Hart, but she also thought about her list. Funny, a gentleman, wants to get married, wants to have kids, cooks, is a good communicator, loved his mother, is compatible sexually, is confident, strong, no kids or baby’s moms, has perfect teeth, and he is even a Scorpio. On that note, she was the first to speak while he stood there looking at her with an uncertain face.

  “Why do you want me?”

  He turned and headed into the living room, placing his phone and keys on the coffee table.

  She followed him, barefoot.

  He faced her. “Want you? Look at you.”

  She replied, “Ramón, aside from how I look. You could just want me because I’m white. It seems to me that’s what you prefer. I would never want you to love me because I’m another white girl, more than because of who I am on the inside.”

  “No, that’s not it. I see you as a person, not a label. It’s everything. It is you on the inside. It’s you as a whole.”

  “A whole? What you’ve learned about me in this short amount of time cannot possibly equate to a whole anything.”

  “After all the talking we’ve done, I know just as much about you as you know about me. Believe me, I’ve listened to every single word you’ve said. All I want to do is have a chance to get to know you better.” He took one step closer. “Please don’t cut things off before they get started.”

  His seriousness was impressive. “I just don’t get why you want me though. Don’t you think we’re different?”

  He looked surprised. “I know you don’t mean the color of our skin.”

  She thought about her list again, but went for the wants that he didn’t match. “No. I mean our job titles, our ages, our height, our upbringing, our desires.”

  “What do job titles have to do with anything? Plus, our title right now is unemployed. And I can’t help my age, or my height. I
think that’s a non-factor, height. And no, I’m not as educated as you. But book smarts can be learned. Common sense cannot. Our upbringing, we’re both close to our fathers, we both relocated to Atlanta.”

  She nodded. “True.”

  “And as far as our desires, have we even talked about that? Other than wanting to settle down and have kids, which we both want. That’s something we need to talk about, what your desires are and what mine are. I actually think we’re more alike than you know.”

  She folded her arms along her stomach.

  “I really do think you mean the fact that you’re white and I’m black.”

  She tried to find the right words. “What I mean is, Ramón, all of my dating years, I have stuck to my own race. And all of your dating years, you have stuck to any race but yours. To me, that says something.”

  “Like I said, more alike than different. Maybe something is wrong with both of us. How’s that?” His dimple winked.

  She ignored it. “Ramón, I’m sure there have been a whole lot of nice, sweet, attractive, loving black women you could’ve dated, instead of ending up with white skin and blue eyes.”

  “There were. And I told you I dated one. And really, that was only a lunch date and some phone calls.”

  “See, the fact that you said only one concerns me. It means you have a preference. I won’t ask what exact color her skin was, but what if a dark-skinned black woman had everything going for her that I have. Would you date her?”

  “If I’d met her before I met you, dark skin or not, believe me, I would’ve been interested.”

  She shook her head in a way that called him a liar. “I think you would’ve missed her because you couldn’t get past her skin.”

  He broke it down. “To hate dark skin is to hate me. I have dark skin. And just so you know, the one I dated was dark, and I’m open to it, but I realized it’s not my preference. The key word is preference. I could switch this up on you, because you could miss a man like me for the same reason, ignoring black, preferring white skin. Again, the key word being preference. But I’m asking you to not let that happen. God is giving you a chance, right here and now, to try something new. Don’t block what could be a blessing because what you did before is your comfort zone. Get uncomfortable, Shasta. It just might work. Try it.” His eyes were earnest.

  She went to the other end of the sofa.

  He watched her and turned to her.

  She said, “I really don’t have time for trying. I’m almost forty. I have no children, and no husband. I can’t experiment, can’t play around, can’t try something different, Ramón. ”

  “Why not? Go color blind and try to forget that I’m black. You just might end up with all that you want. The house, the kids, and the husband. Or maybe not. But for now, just accept me for who I am, and what I do, and how I treat you.” He stepped to her and put his fingers to her chin, lifting her eyes to his. “I did not lie about Maya. I slept on the couch, she slept in my bed. I see no point in lying to people. My dad always told me, the truth always comes out in the end.”

  “I know. She admitted that.”

  His reply was to move in closer to her face, and kiss her.

  She kissed him back, hands at her side.

  He began working his lips to kiss her lips, and suck her tongue, which she loved. He then put his hand on her backside to bring her closer to him.

  She put her hands on his muscular back, hugging him tight.

  Her DNA remembered his and it made her warm. Damn him! She continued to tongue him back.

  He stopped and released her, taking a half step back. “You smell good.”

  “Thanks.”

  His faced seemed to ask if the ice was broken.

  She looked down and then back up at him. “And I meant to say, your video was funny. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m a man of my word.”

  She brought her hands to unbuckle his belt and looked up at him with sultry eyes, and a voice that matched. “Let me see it.”

  He looked pleasantly surprised, seeming more than ready, willing, and able, unzipping his pants. He pulled them down, letting them fall to his ankles. She pulled on the fabric of his black briefs, and she pulled out his stiff penis.

  She stoked it and then brought his underwear down.

  Ramón stepped out of his pants and his briefs, and tossed them onto the arm of the sofa.

  She fell to her knees between his legs, licking his dick with the flatness of her tongue, and then swallowing his length, letting his shaft travel far back, still using her tongue along the way. She knew his penis was too thick and long to go all the way, so she used both hands to assist in the stroking, keeping it wet with her saliva, and she then focused on his dark brown head, all the while, looking up at him like a porn star. She got it as far down as she could go, and held it there.

  He watched. “Damn!”

  She came away from it with bedroom eyes, very slowly, until it was all the way out of her mouth. She pecked a kiss on the tip.

  He said, “See what you almost gave up, believing what other people say instead of believing your man.”

  She nodded.

  “Do it again.”

  She did it again as far as she could, and on the way up, she stuck out her tongue, licking him like an Orange Creamsicle, and then she took him out of her mouth and licked his balls.

  His whole body twitched, and his dick pulsated in her hand. He said, “I ain’t going nowhere. You couldn't run me off with a shot gun. Two hand sucking and stroking? The way you grip it. Oh this is home, alright. You are my woman. No more bullshitting!” He sounded mad but his face showed his thrill.

  She went deep again, then faster, still giving him her big icy blue eyes. The sound his dick made traveling in and out of her mouth was loud and nasty and wet. She gulped and slobbered. “Uhn-wah, unh-wah, uhn-wah.”

  He looked to be fighting it, grunting, “I’m about to shoot this down your throat.”

  She did not back away. She felt her pussy dripping between her legs.

  He groaned with a point of no return sound.

  She took him in and swallowed his release, then she squeezed it, milking it, licking his tip until there was no more of his liquid seed to be drank.

  She licked her lips and stood.

  His face was frozen, his mouth was open, and his dick was still hard.

  “You okay?” she asked, almost smiling.

  He shook his head. With red, half-open, drunk eyes, he said, and said, “Now, it’s your turn.”

  She replied, “No.”

  “Get on your back. I wanna eat you so bad. I’m telling you, I’ll come just from the taste of you. Let me make you come, baby.”

  She shook her head and stepped around him, walking to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob while he stood with his hand on his stiff penis.

  He asked, “It’s like that? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll bet you’re about as moist as a snack cake right about now.”

  Her lip quivered like she wanted to smile, but her face stayed straight.

  He reached over and picked up his pants and underwear and stepped into them, all the while keeping an eye on her. “What are you afraid of?”

  She sighed. “Maybe I’m afraid to love.”

  “Shasta, life will teach us that there’s nothing better than love.”

  She felt that the seriousness of the moment was about to go goofy. She looked down as she laughed. “You sound like Luther.”

  He walked to her. “See, I’m trying to be serious here.”

  “I know.”

  He buckled his belt and said, “Okay, so . . .” he began to sing, “what in the world could you ever be thinking of? It’s better by far. So let yourself reach for that star, then go no matter how far, to the one you love.”

  Shasta looked at him and smiled, moving her hand from the door knob. She got close to him and placed her head along his chest.

&nb
sp; “Stop pushing me away.” He hugged her tightly, and said, “I wanna be loved.”

  She closed her eyes and said, “So do I.”

  “Good.”

  She could hear his heartbeat thumping in his chest.

  “Just don’t use the N-word when we argue.

  “Ramón,” she popped him along his arm.

  He added, “And babe, don’t worry about me quitting my job. I’m good. I had to prove to my father all of these years that I would work hard, but when I turn thirty-five in November, I get my inheritance.”

  “Inheritance from what?”

  “My dad. He’s a millionaire and I get half of my mom’s share.”

  Her own heart thumped too in her chest, and it softened.

  One more thing from her list.

  Well off.

  Chapter 15

  Martinez, GA

  That Saturday, the day after her last day at work, which had been capped off by employees giving her a farewell party in the break room, all except Tyson Bain, Shasta had been on the road for over two hours, driving from Atlanta to her father’s home in the West Lake subdivision in Martinez, Georgia.

  At noon, with the sun shining bright, she pulled down Winged Foot Drive to the estate. It wasn’t the home she grew up in, but it was the home her father had recently bought, which was a one and a-half million dollar custom built home, barely ten years old.

  She pulled into the circular driveway and turned off the ignition, eyeing the grand estate home that was nestled on five acres of land, surrounded by tall trees and a pond. There was a three car garage, a swimming pool, and a whirlpool, along with two thousand square foot of just patio area. And along the side of the house, hanging from along a tall, tall pole on the western porch area, was a large, confederate flag, flying high.

  Shasta exited her car and grabbed her overnight bag and purse, then stepped up to the front door in her blue sundress. The tall, brown, double doors with thick Verona glass were not the doors that were there the last time she visited. She turned the brass knob without ringing the doorbell because her father had called to tell her to come right in. She had a key, but not for the new fancy door.