Black Lace

by Beverly Jenkins

  She walked with him to the door. They stopped. He looked down into her eyes and whispered, “One more…”

  His lips teased themselves against hers and she didn’t protest. She wanted one more too, and it was as sweet and wonderful as the rest. Then he was gone.

  A dazed Lacy closed the door and then braced her back against it. She stood there for a moment remembering, pulsing, longing, then slowly melted down the wood to the floor.

  In the dimly lit main office of Parker Environmental, City Councilman Reynard Parker was in a panic. According to the fax he’d received an hour ago from his new accountant, he was about to have cash flow problems. It seemed the reason his former accountant Wheeler had refused to go along with the plan to cook the books was because he’d already cooked them! The balance sheet showed a seven figure deficit that would soon start impacting his ability to meet his financial responsibilities to payroll, taxes, and all the ancillary fees that had to be paid out in order to run his business. Were Wheeler not already gull food, he would have killed him with his bare hands.

  Parker threw his coffee cup against the wall. The burst of violence helped drain some of his anger. Calmer now, he sat back down at his desk and tried to figure out what to do first. First he had to cut corners. His trucks would have to start dumping a portion of the loads someplace other than the landfills. He couldn’t afford to send in fully loaded trucks because he was charged by the ton. Damn Wheeler! The little accountant had certainly extracted his own revenge. He couldn’t wait to meet the bastard in hell.

  Grabbing the phone, Parker called in some of his most trusted drivers. Most of his workforce were former felons. He offered the men who were serious about staying on the right side of the law a steady job that allowed them to pay their bills, be gainfully employed, and give good reports to their parole officers. On the other hand, Parker had enough down low operations going on that the men who wanted to supplement their legitimate paychecks with side hustles were accommodated, too. The hustlers knew that if any of their outside work brought the police to his door, they’d be fired and on their own. Currently working beneath the radar were a group of drivers who sold nonshredded identity items to a bogus credit card ring operating overseas. Others cased homes for B&E specialists, and new cars and trucks for chop shop owners. They did drug drops, transported illegal immigrants, and smuggled stolen art and artifacts for a well-known, Toronto-based art dealer.

  None of that mattered right now, though. What did matter was bringing all of his special drivers in for a meeting so they could discuss where and how to dump their loads. With their help, he might be able to stay above water until he could figure a way out of this mess.

  By the time Drake got back to the mansion, he was kicking himself for not getting Lacy’s number. He supposed he could use NIA’s databases to find it, but he’d already gone behind her back and checked her out on Google, and he didn’t feel good about intruding on her privacy again. Not to mention she might not take it too well if he called her up out of the blue. If he were a single female living alone, he knew that he’d want to know how he’d gotten the number. And he wouldn’t be able to tell her because he couldn’t tell her. Not about NIA. So he opted for seeing her at work tomorrow and getting it then. On a whim, he checked to see if her name was listed in the phone book, but like most big city single women, she wasn’t.

  He decided that maybe not having her number was a good thing, at least for tonight. He had a NIA meeting later, and talking to Lacy might be a distraction. He vividly remembered how much trouble Mykal had, keeping his NIA life and its secrets from his Sarita when they first got married, and how many meetings his brother had missed being “distracted” by Sarita. Drake planned to keep his secret life from Lacy for as long as necessary, because the less she knew, the better it would be for everyone involved. But he wished he’d gotten her number.

  Soaking in a tub of vanilla-scented bubbles, Lacy had her cell phone in one hand and the mayor’s business card in the other. He’d written his number on it the day he brought her home from the hospital, and she was debating whether to call him or not. She had intended to give him her number but had been so dazzled by the evening, she’d forgotten. Now, looking at his terrible handwriting, she couldn’t decide. On one hand, dinner had been fabulous and it would take her years to forget the power of his kiss, but on the other, she didn’t want him to think she was trying to be all over him, because she wasn’t.

  In the end she set the card and the phone on the short table beside the tub and sank back into the warmth of the water. She’d give him her number at work tomorrow. Right now she just wanted to replay everything that had happened between them, and smile.

  Who knew the touch of a man could make a woman want those touches everywhere? Wilton had never spent much time on kissing or any other kind of foreplay, at least not with her. He’d saved whatever creativity he’d had in the bedroom for his many mistresses. His interactions with her had never lasted more than a few minutes because he’d been so rough and boorish on their wedding night, she came to look upon sex as a marital duty that had to be endured. Add to that his belief that wives weren’t supposed to be enjoying themselves anyway and you had one mixed-up young wife.

  And she’d stayed mixed up for a while. After the divorce, the few men she had relationships with found her stiff and wooden in bed. One man in particular said a dead fish was more responsive. As a consequence, Lacy had avoided intimacy, convinced her aversion to getting busy stemmed from a problem within herself.

  A frank discussion with her mother put much of that insecurity to rest. Val’s take on the matter pretty much mirrored Drake’s. She had been hanging around the wrong men, Val said, and assured her that one day she would meet a man who would make her climb mountains for his touch. As always, Mother knew best. Drake seemed to be the right man, and Lacy wanted to learn everything Professor Drake had to offer, even if it meant staying after school. She laughed out loud at this new bold side of herself, then went back to the sensual memories that wouldn’t leave her alone.

  When Lacy came into work Wednesday morning, the dinner with Drake was still reverberating through her like the faint sensual beat of an African drum. Just the thought of him put a silly smile on her face. Not even the day’s pouring rain or having to use the cane kept her from feeling particularly alive

  Passing Janika, Lacy waved and went on into her own office. She was booting up her computer when a smiling and sly-looking Ida slid into her office and closed the door.

  “’Morning,” Lacy said cheerily. “What’s up?”

  Ida took a seat and replied casually, “That’s what I came to ask you.”

  Lacy was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “You and His Fineness had dinner last night.”

  Lacy didn’t say a word. She was too stunned. Finally, she said, “Uh, no. I heard he was in the building to see Wanda, the manager. She does some kind of secretarial work for him on the side.”

  Ida shook her head. “I go to church with Wanda Jean, so what’s your next story?”

  Lacy dropped her head to her desk and banged it softly on the edge. When she first moved to Detroit, Ida told her that everyone in Detroit was connected to everyone else in some form or fashion, and now Lacy believed her. Her business was out in the street already! She looked at Ida. “Who told you?”

  “My cousin Remmie.”

  “Oh, shoot.”

  Ida’s cousin Remmie lived across the hall from Lacy. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Remmie, Lacy would never have known that the apartment was for rent. “Will she keep my secret?”

  Ida laughed. “Remmie? She can’t keep a secret to save her life. Always been that way, always will be that way.”

  “Can’t you talk to her?”

  “Too late. With all the people she knows through church and her volunteer work, I was surprised your date wasn’t on the front page of the Free Press this morning.”

  Lacy banged her head again for a few more moments
, then straightened up. “Okay. I’ll just have to deal with it, I guess.”

  “Prepare yourself for a few pieces of hate mail too, then.”

  “Hate mail?”

  Ida nodded. “Some of the women in this town are cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, as we used to say back in the day. They’re not going to be happy seeing you with the mayor.”

  “What?” Lacy asked incredulously.

  “I’m not kidding. When he first got elected, women tried to break into the mansion to see him. They hid in the bushes, waited for him in the baggage claim at the airport. That’s part of the reason he has the police detail with him most of the time. One crazy broad even went to the papers and said he was the father of her five kids. She was a woman from his church. Supposedly his mama took care of that one.”

  Lacy couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Do you know about the magazine spread he was in?” Ida asked.

  “No. When was this?”

  “It was right before the election so must have been early ’02.”

  “What was the article about?”

  “It was called the ‘Fifty Most Eligible Black Men on the Planet,’ and His Fineness was one of them. Rhonda said he got 35,000 letters after the magazine came out.”

  Lacy was speechless, then asked, “Who writes to men they see in magazines?”

  “At least 35,000 women do.”

  “Oh my goodness. Ida, that’s crazy.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. Enjoy his company but expect the unexpected.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Ida smiled, then asked, “So how was the date?”

  Lacy swooned against the back of her chair. “Fabulous. He is so wonderful.”

  “Good. I think you two will do good together.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling.” Ida stood, then said, “Let me get back to my desk. If the National Enquirer calls, we’ll tell them you’re in Paris with Tupac.”

  Lacy laughed. “Appreciate it.”

  Once the silence resettled, Lacy mulled over what she’d been told. She found the 35,000 letters pretty amazing. It had never occurred to her that dating the mayor might be hazardous to her health. He had run her off the road, but that was different. Ida was convinced there were some pretty Mad Hatters out there, and Lacy knew that as crazy as the world was today, it behooved her to take Ida’s warnings seriously. Lordy!

  Lacy supposed she should call him and let him know that thanks to Ida’s cousin Remmie, the cat was out of the bag.

  Rhonda put her call right through.

  “’Morning, baby,” he said in that sensual voice of his.

  “How are you?”

  “Doing okay. Thought about you after I got home. Wanted to call you but I don’t have your number.”

  “Do you have a pencil?”

  “Ready.”

  Lacy recited the numbers.

  “Thanks,” he said. “So, what’s going on with you?”

  “Just wanted to let you know, Ida’s cousin lives across the hall and she saw you leaving my place.”

  “Damn. Can she keep a secret?”

  “According to Ida, not even if her life depends on it.”

  She heard Drake sigh with frustration. “Okay,” he said. “How are you feeling about maybe being on the front page?”

  “I’ll just deal with it. Can’t do anything else.”

  “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly.

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for and besides, I had a really good time.”

  “So did I. How about dinner at my place next time?”

  “Just tell me when.”

  “I’ll call you tonight and see what we can work out.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He then said, “Can you hold on a minute, please?”

  “Sure.”

  She heard his muffled voice and assumed their call had been interrupted by someone wanting to discuss something with him. A few seconds later he was back, saying, “Sorry. Had to talk to Rhonda a minute.”

  “No problem.

  “So, we agree on dinner at my place.”

  “We agree.”

  “Good. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.”

  “’Bye.”

  After she put the phone down, Lacy sighed. She now knew what women like her mother meant by a “dream boat.” Drake was all that and a bag of chips, too.

  That night he did call. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  Lacy picked up the TV remote and muted the television. “Watching a documentary on snow leopards on the National Geographic channel.”

  “Is it any good?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather talk to you.”

  “Watch out. You’re going to give me the big head.”

  “I think your head’s already there. Ida told me about the magazine spread you did back in ’02. Did you really get 35,000 letters?”

  He laughed. “Sure did, and I’ve been sending them all thank-you letters.”

  Lacy shook her head. “That’s insane. They’re insane.”

  “Come on, now. Some of them were very nice ladies. I got pictures from Guam, France, Switzerland. I still have about five thousand to go, though. Give or take a few hundred.”

  Lacy was amazed. “I’m sure they all appreciate you writing back, but 35,000? I told Ida I’d never write a man in a magazine.”

  “Not even me?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “Life is rough sometimes.”

  “If I were there, I’d kiss that sassy mouth of yours.”

  “And I’d let you.”

  “Be careful now. I’m only a few minutes away.”

  “I dare you.”

  He laughed then. “You dare me?”

  “Yep.”

  “All right, Miss Girl. You’re on.”

  And he hung up.

  Lacy stared down at the phone with wide eyes. Had they been cut off? She punched his number into the phone. It rang but he didn’t pick up. She lowered the phone. Was he really on his way over? She’d been kidding. It was after ten and she was in her pjs, for heaven’s sake. “He wasn’t serious. He’s not coming here,” she said to the silent apartment.

  But what if he was? The thought made her giddy. Jumping up, the now grinning Lacy ran to her bedroom and struggled into a clean set of sweats, checked her hair, quickly brushed her teeth, then went back out to the snow leopards to wait.

  Sure enough, fifteen minutes later the buzzer sounded. Making herself walk slow, she strolled to the intercom. “Who’s there?”

  “Me.”

  “Do I know you?” she asked saucily.

  His humor-laced voice came back, “Let me up, woman. Don’t make me call the fire department. I’ll have a cherry picker drop me right down on your balcony.”

  Laughing, Lacy hit the buzzer and awaited his arrival.

  When she opened the door to his knock, the smile on his face told her all she needed to know. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tattered Lions shirt. He closed the door behind him, then said possessively, softly, “Come here, you….”

  And Lacy went.

  He pulled her in against him and gently held her there. Looking down into her eyes, he said, “Now, about this kiss…”

  Lacy’s eyes glowed with sensual challenge. “Took you long enough to get here.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She remained silent.

  “Guess this is all I have,” he whispered, then lowered his head to give her the kiss they’d both been craving.

  He brushed his lips over her in silent invitation, and she replied in the same wordless fashion. They teased each other with hypnotic gives and takes until they were both breathing loud and their hands began to roam. His palms burned through the thin cotton of her sweats to her skin, and she reveled in the feel of the hard smooth strength of his bare arms benea
th her caressing hands.

  They kissed their way across the room and then down onto the couch. He ran a worshipping hand up the outside of her thigh over her hip and up her ribs until he found a small hard-nippled breast. He nibbled at it, and Lacy arched and let out a sound of pleasure. Somewhere a phone buzzed. It was Drake’s, but he chose Lacy over it and let his voice mail get it. But the buzzing came back, again and again. Finally, Drake snatched the phone off his belt and looked at the number. Myk.

  He sighed. “Sorry, baby.” Then he barked into the phone, “Dammit. What?”

  “Where are you?” Myk asked on the other end.

  “None of your business.”

  “Testy, are we? Well get your mayoral behind to the meeting. We’re waiting on you.” Then he hung up.

  Drake sank back against the couch. He turned to Lacy. The look of her passion-lidded eyes made him even harder. “I have to go. It’s what I get for having so much on my plate.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.” And it wasn’t. In his eagerness to get over here and taste her sassy little mouth, he’d forgotten about tonight’s eleven o’clock NIA meeting. Now he had to leave her.

  Lacy understood that he had responsibilities, and for her to get upset because of it made no sense. He was the mayor, after all. She moved closer and kissed him softly. “Go take care of your business.”

  Resigned, Drake kissed her back so thoroughly and completely they both wished they had more time. He ended by giving her a series of short parting presses of his lips against hers before drawing away from her tempting mouth for good. He then ran a slow finger down her soft cheek. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  She nodded.

  He kissed the tip of her nose then stood.

  While Lacy watched from the couch, he left, softly closing the door behind him.

  Drake walked into the conference room at Chandler Works, and the five NIA board members already at the table applauded his arrival. Embarrassed, he shook his head and took a seat.

  “Glad you could make it,” Myk told him.

  “Just start the meeting,” Drake tossed back.

  So the smiling Myk did just that.