My English Muffin (Interracial Romance BWWM Black Woman White Man)

by Skye, Lena

  **

  A couple of days after our wild night in after a not so good night out, I sat in the coffee shop down the street from my house. I wanted to get some light reading done, so I had brought my tablet. I had been working non-stop for two days and needed a break.

  While I was waiting for my order I heard a deep male voice ask for a “strong cup of tea,” with a deeply accented voice. I could feel the words rattle down my spine until they hit me in the pit of my stomach. I picked up my order with the breathlessness of being punched in the gut. I took the last available table and started to read.

  “Is this seat taken?” The same sharp British voice that ordered that drink startled me out of the intense passage I was reading.

  “Uh, no.” I answered finally getting a good look at the man. He was gorgeous. He had dirty blonde hair and looked almost exactly like David Beckham.

  “Thanks, love.” He told me as he sat across the small round table from me. “Are you from around here?”

  “I’ve lived in New York for about ten years.” I was trying desperately to keep my cool and not start drooling in my coffee. David Beckham was the only British man, and probably the only white man, I had ever found attractive, and when confronted by someone who looked just like him was making my libido do loop-de-loops in my stomach.

  “Wonderful, do you think you could show me around a bit?” The accent oozed through the words and made love to my ears. His physique was trim and looked excellent in an old pair of jeans and dress shirt.

  “I guess so.” I told him suddenly a bit wary.

  “Lovely, we can start with a good place to take you to dinner.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him, unsure of what I just heard.

  “I said that I would like to take you to dinner, but I don’t know any good restaurants in the area. Would you meet me at one tonight?” He had a very alpha male vibe to him, but he presented it in a different way than any other man I had ever met.

  “Um.” I bit my lip trying to think.

  “Take your time, love. I’m on holiday here, or as you folks put it.. vacation.”

  “Sorry it is just so forward of you, um, er, how long are you going to be in town?” I knew that I was dodging the question, but I wasn’t quite sure how to answer it. I wanted to say yes but he had not even asked my name yet.

  “A week.”

  “That’s nice.” I was beginning to think that this man would be perfect for a rebound fling. After a week he would be out of my life, in a different country, and I wouldn’t have to think about him again. Plus he was the complete opposite of my ex. “Where are you from?” I asked inanely. I already knew where he was from, but I was running out of things to ask him.

  “I’m from England. London actually.”

  “Oh, I haven’t heard you say ‘Chip Chip Cheerio’ this whole time.” I felt like an idiot the moment it came out of my mouth.

  “We don’t all talk like that. Actually no one in London does. ” He laughed for a moment. “Anyway, If I said that, would you join me for dinner?”

  It was my turn to laugh. He was definitely reeling me in. “OK, what kind of food do you want to have for dinner?’ I was mentally listing restaurants.

  “What’s your favorite?” He asked me.

  I frowned in thought. “There’s a good Indian place around the corner, but you have to make a reservation a week in advance.”

  He pulled out his phone and searched for the name I gave him. Excusing himself he stepped away from the table for a moment and made a phone call. Part way through the call he asked me, “Are you free tonight at eight?”

  “Yeah.”

  He finished his conversation and returned to the table. “We have reservations for the restaurant at eight. Do you want me to pick you up or do you want to meet me there?”

  “I think I’ll be able to get there myself. I can walk from my apartment.”

  “Wonderful. You will have to show me around the area after we eat.”

  “I can.” I was actually starting to get excited about this. I knew that I had just been picked up, but it felt nice. This does not happen every time I go for coffee that is for sure.

  I was going through my list of dresses that would be appropriate for tonight when he interrupted me. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What are you drinking?”

  “A caramel iced latte.” I requested.

  In a flash he had thrown my cup in the trash and ordered me another drink. While he was away I had to turn away several other men from his seat. It seemed the shop was extraordinarily busy that day. There was hardly an empty seat in the house.

  One of the men that tried to take the empty seat insisted on sitting down. “C’mon, it’s the only empty seat in the house.” He argued.

  “There’s someone sitting there.” I told him once again.

  “No one’s sitting there right now.” He pointed out the obvious. This guy looked like a stoner and couldn’t get it through his head that the seat just wasn’t available to him.

  “But he will be back.” I looked up to see the British guy returning to our table. “There he is now.”

  The stoner made a motion to sit down and the Brit pulled him swiftly up by his collar. “This seat is mine.” None of his movements were particularly violent, but there was an air of a threat around him. Confronted by a man standing up to him our visitor fled. “Was he bothering you much?” He asked.

  “No, but thank you… Actually, I didn’t quite catch your name?” I didn’t think he had said his name, but I wasn’t sure.

  “My name is William.”

  “Oh like the prince? Or is it the King? Anyway, it’s very nice to meet you, William.” I reached my hand out to shake his.

  He met my hand with a firm shake. “Something like that, And you are?”

  “My name is Maria.”

  “Maria, what a lovely name.” He honestly seemed impressed by my name.

  “It’s pretty common.”

  “Not from where I come from. May I call you Mimi?” He asked.

  The question confused me. First of all it was uncommon for a man to give a woman a nickname when he asks her out. It was even more uncommon for me to even give someone like him the time of day. “I guess so.” Weirder things had happened.

  “Lovely, I’ll see you tonight then Mimi.” He verified the plans with me and we switched phone numbers.

  I practically skipped all the way home. I was humming when I put my key in the lock and plopped down in front of the computer. I needed to get some more work done but I was really distracted. Instead of working I texted all of my friends and let them know about the man I had just met. They were really excited and happy that I was going out on a date and when I told them that he had been able to get reservations on the spot they were duly impressed. I was bragging a little, I’ll admit, but I wanted to show the three of them that I was capable of moving on by myself, without being dragged to clubs to deal with the random bar pick-ups.

  #Chapter3

  “That, my dear, sounds like a plan.”

  William

  It took me almost an hour to get myself ready to go to dinner. I had tried on several outfits and finally decided on one of my old ones from the back of my closet. I had a collection of dresses in the back of my closet that I had never worn out, mostly because I was to chicken to put them on after I bought them. Everything else in my closet reminded me of John, so I wore one of the dresses out of my stash.

  I arrived at the restaurant half an hour early. William was already waiting for me. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo that made me think about James Bond. I couldn’t find any other word to describe it but snazzy. The man was incredibly, melt-in-your mouth handsome, and I couldn’t help but stare as he walked up to me. “Would you care to join me?” He asked in that sexy English accent. I actually felt like a Bond girl for a moment.

  My mouth ran dry. “Um, yeah.” I told him. I didn’
t know what was going on, but my head was spinning and I had the attention of one of the most handsome men I had ever met. We got inside the restaurant and had to wait a few minutes for our table to be ready. I was surprised that we actually got seated before our reservation time.

  At our table, he ordered a bottle of expensive wine for us to drink. “Is that acceptable?” He asked me.

  “I’m sure it will be fine.” It was all I could say.

  “I could get a better bottle.” He looked mildly insulted.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant.” I was trying to cover my mistake. “Typically I just drink cheap wine. I’ve never had a bottle that nice.”

  “Of course.” He looked at the menu.

  I looked at my own menu. The first thing I noticed was that it had changed a lot since the last time I had stepped foot in the place. “So what do you do for a living?” I asked him, desperately trying to make a conversation that would cool my nerves.

  “I’m actually a blogger.” He stated dryly. “Mostly travel.”

  “This must be something you’re going to blog about then?” I asked trying to keep up the conversation.

  “No, this is supposed to be a holiday, sorry vacation.” He was starting to smile at me. “Where do you work?” He asked.

  “I design websites and write code. It’s pretty boring stuff actually.”

  “Oh, well that is kind of similar to me. What company do you work with?” He was continuing this line of questioning.

  “I own my own company and work from home.”

  The wine arrived at the table. My companion thanked the waiter and told him that we would be ready to order in a few minutes. We poured over our menus and both decided on the curry. When the server came back William put in our order for the appetizer and ordered our entrées. After the waiter had left the table he continued to probe about my job.

  “It’s not anything fancy or exciting. I mostly just sit around in my pajamas all day and write code.”

  “It’s a shame.”

  “What’s a shame?”

  “That you spend your days locked up in your house writing code all the time. Someone as beautiful as you needs to be shown to the world.“

  I was in shock. John would never have said anything like that to me.

  “So, by what lucky star are you single right now?”. He said as he took a sip of his wine.

  “I just broke up with my boyfriend.” I knew that I shouldn’t show much emotion over it, but I’m not sure how well it worked out.

  “Ah I see. I am in the same boat. I recently left my girlfriend of several years as well.” He told me and we toasted to failed relationships.

  “Why did you leave her?” I asked.

  “The same reason I fired my editor. They were sleeping together.” His words were firm and serious, but I could see a twinkle of sadness hiding behind his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.” I told him, commiserating. “I know the feeling; John was cheating on me too.” Thinking about it for a moment I asked the number one stupid question in history, “That is strange though, I thought British people were proper and didn’t do things like cheat.”

  He laughed at me. It was a wonderful laugh, similar to the sound of a waterfall of music. “British people are people first, my dear.” He explained in between the chuckles. “We aren’t all nobility.”

  “You’re not royalty then?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not.” He told me.

  “Then you’ve never met the queen?” I was actually starting to get disappointed. “I was told everyone from England could trace their family history back to royalty.”

  “No I have never met the Queen” He laughed “Actually there have been several royal lines in England, but not everyone in the country is descended from them. It is actually a bigger country then it looks on the map.” He was trying to be gentle and kind, but I could feel the temperature of my face start to rise. “Let’s change the subject. Who did John cheat with?” He asked me trying to spare my feelings.

  “Some chick from the copy place down the street.” I explained.

  “I don’t understand.” It was an absent minded comment made mostly to himself.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Why some people can’t just be happy with what they have.”

  As I was developing a response I felt my phone vibrate in my purse again. Checking it I could see that it was John texting me again. I checked the message and it was just typical John wanting me back. He had been bothering me since the night the girls and I went to the bar. I ignored the message and went on with my evening.

  “Is anything wrong?” William asked me.

  “Nothing.”

  “If it’s important I will understand.”

  “It’s not important.” I told him. “Let’s just enjoy the evening.”

  “That, my dear, sounds like a plan.” He told me laughter once again filling his words.

  “So what’s it like, living in England.”

  “Much like life in America, I suppose.”

  “Which part of America?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Huh?” I didn’t know exactly what was going on.

  “Well, there are different parts of England, just like in America. Where you live determines a lot about your life.” He was being very patient with me and somehow he didn’t make me feel dumb as he explained it to me.

  “I guess I should brush up on my geography.” I laughed about it a little. I was starting to really like this guy and was curious to see how far he’d take it.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He told me.

  “So what part of England are you from?” I asked, getting back to the previous subject.

  “Originally or currently?”

  “Both.”

  “I was born and raised in Oxford, but recently moved to London.”

  “Were your parents professors?”

  It was his turn to look confused. “Professors? What do you mean?”

  “You said you were born in Oxford. Isn’t that a college?”

  He laughed a little. “Oxford is a university actually, but there is also a city with the same name.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know how else to respond to him.

  “It’s actually one of the fastest growing cities in the U.K. A very nice place.” He told me.

  We were starting to laugh with each other. I was really having a good time. Somehow we had gone through dinner and barely noticed the time. It was so interesting learning about Britain and William was very intriguing.

  #Chapter4

  “What does a rubber have to do with anything?”

  William

  “Would you care to come to my hotel room for a nightcap Mimi?”

  “Sure.” I might have sounded a bit too excited about that prospect. I scolded myself as we climbed into a cab and were taken to a hotel in Times Square. It was one of the grandest hotels I had ever seen. It’s obvious that whoever stayed here had money.

  When we walked into the lobby, we were greeted by the lady at the front desk, “Hello, Mr. Clarke, is there anything you might need tonight?”

  “Do they know your name here?”

  “I believe that they do.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s common in many high end hotels.” That was all he said on the matter. I didn’t know what to do. This hotel was so classy, I was curious as to how much money someone could make from blogging. I assumed people just did it for fun.

  We rode up an elevator to the fifteenth floor and walked down the hall. As he unlocked his door he asked me if I needed anything sent up to the room. I told him I didn’t and we walked inside.

  The room was incredibly spacious. The modern feel of the room contrasted with his traditional appearance. The front room of his suite had a dark red colored sofa and a television in it. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, including a stove and a refrigerator. The décor in the front room was elegantly simple. It was the perfect hotel roo
m, at least in my humble opinion.

  He picked up the phone and ordered a bottle of champagne from room service. “Would you like anything?”

  “Oh no, I don’t need anything.” I told him, embarrassed by the luxury of the room. Even if I did want something I would not know what to ask for. I doubt they do hot wings and fries in this place.

  He placed his order and ushered me to sit on the sofa. “Is there anything that I can do to make you more comfortable?” He asked.

  “I’m already comfortable.” I lied.

  “No, you’re not.” He told me. “Do you want to go home?”

  I considered saying yes. I had only been with one man for three years and didn’t even remember how to do this. On top of that William looked really worried about me. I had never seen that kind of concern from a man I was alone with before. After a few minutes of strained casual conversation his order arrived.

  As the tray was pushed into the room I saw a bouquet of red roses beautifully arranged on it. Next to the roses was a bottle of champagne. Sitting on a plate before the two tall items was a plate piled high with chocolate covered strawberries. The strawberries were decorated in white, dark and milk chocolate and looked like they were wearing little tiny tuxedos. Before that moment I had no idea that food could be cute, but these strawberries were too cute to eat.

  “Do you like strawberries?” He asked me.

  “I love strawberries.” I told him. “But it would be a shame to eat those, they are so beautiful in their little tuxedos.”

  “I know it’s hard to eat them when they are made that well, but if you don’t they’ll go bad and no one will be able to enjoy them.” He chuckled. “Close your eyes.”

  Closing my eyes I felt the soft skin of chocolate touch my lips. “Open your mouth he said gently.” I complied and took a bite of the freshest strawberry I had ever had in my life. As my teeth broke the chocolate the juice from the strawberry mixed with it in my mouth. It was heavenly.