by Jewel Daniel
Gently his soft, moist lips touched her forehead, then brushed her closed eyes, the tip of her nose and her lips. Tenderly his lips possessed hers in a soft, sensuous kiss.
Slowly he moved his lips against hers, enjoying the sweet sensations that showered him. He closed his eyes savoring her sweetness. Gently he released her. His eyes searched her face seeking permission to ravish her. His heart thumped erratically in his chest.
Tamara looked up at Kwabena, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing wildly. She held her breath as he lowered his face to hers once more. His lips covered hers again in a gentle yet passionate kiss. Ever so tenderly his tongue probed her mouth as his kiss deepened in passion and intensity. Tamara responded passionately, opening her mouth and welcoming his teasing tongue. Slowly they explored the deep recesses of each other's mouth, filling each other with desire. Tamara closed her eyes and submitted to the sweetness of his kiss. Bolts of desire coursed through her body, igniting her passions. She felt her breathing deepen as he ravished her with his lips and tongue.
Their kiss intensified as Kwabena felt arousal course through his body. He didn't want to let go. He drew her closer to him, letting his hands caress her back, feeling her soft flesh beneath his fingers.
Reluctantly he drew back, trying desperately to control himself. She opened her eyes, her expression one of fear and desire. He kissed her again hard, pulling her into him. He could not get enough of her lips. She returned his kiss with fiery passion. Her body was tingling all over with desire as she caressed his lean hard body. She could feel his arousal pressing into her belly. Her heart was like a drum in her ears.
Slowly he released her lips and pulled her in a tighter embrace nestling her head on his chest. She heard him sigh deeply as he struggled to gain control. She felt him shower her temples and forehead with tiny kisses. They remained locked in a tight embrace, her head on his chest, his cheeks on her head.
He raised his head, took a deep breath and in a hoarse scratchy voice whispered, "I'm sorry, Tammy."
"Sorry for what?"
"Taking advantage of your vulnerability."
She looked up at his still wet lips glistening in the dim twilight and whispered, "You have my permission to take advantage of me."
He smiled and kissed her again passionately. He wanted to do so much more with her than just kiss. He wanted to ravish her body. He wanted to make her moan with pleasure. He wanted to make love to her from the setting of the sun to the first rays of dawn. His hand found her bare flesh at the waist beneath her blouse. He felt like he would explode with desire as they kissed each other hungrily. Then the doorbell rang.
Tamara heard the surreal ringing from a distance. Reluctantly she released his lips.
"I should get that shouldn't I," she breathed, her passions still ablaze.
"You should," he responded thickly. He didn't release her right away. His lips possessed hers, and they kissed passionately.
The doorbell rang again. "I should get that," Tamara repeated.
He nodded and kissed her again. Neither of them wanted the moment to end. Finally he released her. She remained rooted in her spot, waiting for him to kiss her again.
"Aren't you gonna get the door?" he asked with a sly smile on his face.
She giggled and stepped in the wrong direction, toward the basement.
"I think it's that way," he said, physically turning her to face the door.
"Yeah, I knew that," she said, giggling girlishly. She was happy, she was elated, she was giddy and her body was on fire.
He couldn't help laughing. She glanced at him before entering the doorway and flashed a smile. Her expression spoke volumes.
Oh gosh! One kiss and I'm acting like an idiot. He probably thinks I've never been kissed before. One kiss! Well three kisses or is it four? But who's counting? Tamara wrestled with herself as she walked to the front door. What they did felt so right. He was a good kisser. No, he was an extraordinary kisser. She just hoped her face was not all red right now. It was probably Jordan anyway-or Becky. They were the only people likely to visit midweek.
Tamara opened the door without looking. "Darlene!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting my cousin," Darlene answered, stepping into the foyer.
"You're the last person I expected to see at this time of day." When she'd first bought the house, Darlene visited often, mostly to use the swimming pool. It was also her pickup and dropoff point for dates she wanted to impress and a place to host pool parties. But as the winter set in, her visits became less frequent. A steady boyfriend over this last summer kept her occupied, but that relationship ended a month or so ago.
"I was on my way home from work and decided to drop in to see you."
"You work in downtown Baltimore, and I live south of the city. You could hardly call that on your way home."
"Ok," she said, getting to the point. "Who's the man?"
Tamara knew that was the purpose of the visit. Ebony must have told her about Kwabena, and she was curious.
Tamara blushed. "What man?"
"The one Ebony saw you with."
"That was weeks ago! Why you all up in my business like that?" Tamara responded annoyed.
"Ebony said the guy looked like he was living here. I want to know who he is. Inquiring minds want to know." Darlene pushed her way past Tamara and entered the den, looking around curiously.
"Then read The Enquirer"
"Come on, Tammy, you can talk to me." Darlene turned to face Tamara, staring her down, daring her to tell the truth. "Who is he? I heard he was hot."
Under Darlene's probing gaze, Tamara blushed and leaned against the back of the couch. "Ebony made a big deal out of nothing," she said with a shrug. "It's just a guy who needed an escort to an awards ceremony, and I agreed to accompany him."
Kwabena stood outside, watching the exchange. Through the closed sliding doors he could not hear the conversation, but he had a feeling it was about him. The air outside was getting chilly. Without Tamara's warm body next to him, he was feeling the cold through his thin polo shirt. He ran down the stairs toward the basement entrance. It was locked. He must have locked it behind him when he came up earlier.
He looked down at his pants. He needed to go inside but didn't want to risk it-not with the telltale bulge. A shiver ran through his spine. The temperature was dropping rapidly. He had no choice but to enter through the kitchen. He untucked his shirt, letting it hang casually over his pants in an effort to hide his protrusion. Then he opened the sliding door and stepped inside.
As he entered the den, he heard Tamara say, "It's just a guy I rented the basement to in order to pay my mortgage, that's all."
He tried to sneak quietly past them, but Darlene looked up and saw him. She smiled slyly and looked at Tamara expectantly, silently demanding an introduction. Busted. He strolled over to the girls.
"I kind of locked myself out of the basement," he explained. He looked at the woman standing next to Tamara. She was the type he easily went for-tall and slim with shapely curves and long legs. Relaxed hair with drop curls framed her oval face. Large eyes with unending lashes, high cheekbones and full red lips made her a drop dead beauty.
"Kwabena, my cousin Darlene; Darlene, my tenant Kwabena," Tamara introduced them.
"Well, hello," Darlene said in a throaty, seductive voice. "It is certainly good to see you again."
Kwabena observed her. He could tell that this was a woman who'd seen the world. He shook her long-fingered, well-manicured hand. "Have we met before?"
"Not really, but I've ... well, I work for Kulper, Cleveland and Rollins, so I've seen you before, but we've never officially met. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is mine," he responded, still holding on to her hand.
Tamara looked at the exchange and wanted to gag. Darlene was pulling out all the stops flirting with himand he was falling right into her feminine trap.
Just then the phone in the bas
ement rang. "I'd love to stay and chat some more, but I'm expecting a call, so good night ladies." With that he disappeared into the basement.
Darlene looked at Tamara excitedly. "Do you know who that is? That is Dr. Opoku, the Dr. Opoku."
"And?"
Darlene stared at her as if she was from outer space. "He invented some kind of smart prosthetic or something, and our law office is handling the patent. When his invention goes to market, and the military gets a hold of it, he is going to be rolling in dough. Your tenant is famous. He was on CNN Health and they profiled his work on the Discovery Channel. Don't you watch the news?"
"I don't have cable." Tamara was going to have a talk with Kwabena. Why was he so secretive about his accomplishments? Shouldn't he be proud of them? His behavior surpassed modesty and humility.
Darlene kept talking. "He is just your tenant right? Nothing between you, no secret engagement, no little hanky panky right?"
"He's my tenant," Tamara asserted.
"Good, then he's fair game. You'll be seeing a lot of me."
Tamara heard the garage door open and Kwabena's car drive off. So much for my evening.
"Since I'm already here, what's for dinner?"
Tamara dished out the food that she expected to share with Kwabena. She was distracted. She couldn't get the look on his face or the feel of his kiss out of her mind. Maybe this is the beginning of something, she thought with a smile as she placed both plates on the table.
Tamara called Dr. Botanga the next morning. She was surprised that he answered the phone himself. Then he asked her what time was good for her. Less than two hours later she was dressed in her navy blue interview suit on her way to Independent Laboratories.
When she arrived, there was no secretary to greet her and escort her to the interviewer's office. Instead she found herself wandering through a maze of corridors until she found the room number listed on the card. She found Dr. Botanga in a laboratory placing red liquid into a tissue culture dish. He was dressed in jeans and a sweater, over which he wore a white lab coat with the name Michael A. Botanga, MD, PhD embroidered over the left pocket. He was a five-foot-ten-inch medium-built, dark-skinned man in his forties.
"You must be Tamara Fontaine," he said in a light African accent different from Kwabena's. He didn't stop what he was doing. "I'm Mike."
He placed the tissue culture dish on a rocker and set a digital timer. He discarded his purple nitrile gloves, washed his hands in the heavily stained sink, and then shook her hand.
"Welcome to Independent Laboratories," he said.
He introduced her to some of the other members of the lab, who gave her a brief summary of their projects. Then they walked into his office, which was little more than a large walk-in closet near the front entrance of the lab. Shelves on the wall held an untidy array of bound scientific journals, laboratory and supply manuals, reference books and oversized binders. His desk was littered with journal articles. Somewhere amid the clutter were a laptop computer and a framed photograph of his wife and three children.
He cleared a microfiber chair of books and offered her a seat.
"Independent Laboratories is a loose conglomeration of research labs scattered throughout Maryland," Dr. Botanga began. "Some of our labs are with academic institutions. Others, like the four in this building, which you can tell was once an old strip mall, are private labs. When we started, our focus was on drug development; in particular, two rheumatoid arthritis drugs-one of which is on the market, and the other now in phase-three clinical trials. Since then we've branched off into drug discovery and the development of smart prosthetics. Recently we've added two bioinformatics labs. So you see, our labs are scattered all over. We have one at Johns Hopkins Medical Institute, several at University of Maryland College Park, two at UMBC and one at the National Institutes of Health. Then there is the biomedical engineering lab that Ben heads over in Bethesda. For the longest while, we've shared data by e-mail, FTP or physically transporting data on zip disks or CDs. That's where you come in. We need to get our computers to communicate with each other so that we can transfer large amounts of data from any computer in the network securely, and we can freely access a central database. And we need someone to maintain the system once it's in place. Do you think you can handle that?"
Tamara spoke for the first time. "Much of what you describe is what I did for the last five years. I am certain I can handle it. If there is anything that I'm unfamiliar with, I am confident that I can learn it within a short time."
"Good. When can you start?"
Tamara was shocked. "Don't you need to see my qualifications and references?" she asked.
Dr. Botanga smiled. "I saw your resume, and your experience is impressive. I've already checked your references. Moreover, Ben recommended you highly. I trust his judgment. As part owner of this company, I know he would not do anything that would affect it negatively."
Tamara felt another piece of Kwabena's identity puzzle fall in place. Not only was he a hotshot biomedical engineer, he was also part owner of Independent Laboratories. She had a lot of questions to ask her husband.
As if reading her mind, Dr. Botanga continued, "I know you are Ben's wife and I am aware of the circumstances surrounding your marriage. Not only are Ben and I business associates, we're very good friends. We go back a long way."
"In that case, I can start tomorrow."
"Pll see you tomorrow."
"By the way," Tamara asked, wondering exactly how to phrase her question. "Your lovely accent... Where are you from?"
"Cameroons," Dr. Botanga responded. "Yu Ming will accompany you to the conference room. We have a really interesting seminar today." He donned a tweed jacket and headed out the door.
It was after five when Tamara returned home. She couldn't wait to tell Kwabena and was relieved to see his car parked in the driveway. She'd accompanied the postdoctoral fellow, Yu Ming, to the seminar. Then the lab members took her and the seminar speaker out to lunch. The rest of the afternoon she spent with an administrative assistant filling out paperwork. The pay wasn't much. It was a little more than half of what she made at her former job, and she was salaried, which meant no paid overtime. But there were no set hours as long as she put in a forty-hour week. Moreover, they would pay for college courses at any of the affiliated universities.
Brimming with excitement, Tamara rushed downstairs to tell Kwabena the good news. This was the first time she'd been down there since he'd moved in almost two months ago. He had done a wonderful job transforming the place. Two large potted palms greeted her at the foot of the stairs. He'd divided the L-shaped recreation room into a living room and dining/recreation area. In the smaller part of the L, he'd placed a small glass-topped dinette set close to the built-in minibar. On the wall over the table was an oversized painting of an African woman in traditional dress, walking through tall grass with an earthen jug on her head and an infant tied to her back. On either side of the painting were two Akan masks. Her pool table occupied this part of the recreation room.
The wall in the living room was lined with Akan and Dagomba masks and framed crafts made of butterfly wings. The only furniture in the long rectangular room was a brown and beige microfiber futon and a beige sofa bed with leopard-print throw pillows. A leopard throw rug sat on the ceramic floor between the chairs. Two cedar-accent round tables-with a wood-carved kneeling, bejeweled girl in Ghanaian dress as the pedestal-served as end tables. His center table was a black Asante throne ottoman, the pedestal for which was a carving of a naked woman kneeling prostrate beneath it. Creeping pothos ivy in two Akokyem ceramic vases sat on the cedar tables.
Tamara ran in search of Kwabena. As she passed her once empty exercise room, she was surprised to see a treadmill, weight bench, free weights and an elliptical machine occupying the room. She spotted him on the sofa and approached, barely able to contain herself.
"Guess what?" she asked excitedly. "I..." Her voice trailed off as the couch came into full view. Kwabena was
sitting on the couch. In his arms was a sobbing brown-skinned lady, her head on his chest. His large hands caressed her back comfortingly. They both looked up to see Tamara standing there. Despite the red, tearstained eyes, Tamara could see the woman was a beauty.
Tamara stood frozen for a minute. When she found her voice she stammered, "I...I...It can wait. I'll come back some other time."
Before Kwabena or the woman could respond, Tamara fled. She left the house and walked around the neighborhood, looking at the new houses going up and the newly constructed golf course. She walked around the darkened lake, which was merely a water runoff area.
How could I be so stupid? How could he kiss me like that one day and be in the arms of another the next? Tamara closed her eyes. She felt disappointed, but she knew sharing a kiss with a man didn't amount to a commitment. She continued walking until she found herself at Jordan's house.
When she entered, the family was seated at the kitchen table having dinner. Immediately the kids got excited.
"Auntie Tammy," shouted Devon and the twins, Kaia and Michele, rushing from the table to embrace her. Kadeem, the baby, started bouncing in his high chair, kicking his little feet as fast as a hummingbird's wings. He banged his spoon against the tray of his high chair, splashing green mush all around.
"I'm disrupting everything," Tamara said. "I'll come back later."
"Where you thinkyou're going?" Jordan asked. "You ain't disrupting anything. Now sit down with us." He turned to his wife. "Becky, can you get Tamara a plate of food please?"
"I'm not hungry," Tamara said.
"You're never not hungry," Jordan responded as Becky disappeared into the kitchen.