by Ju Ephraime
Immediate matters taken care of, he was finally able to step into his shower and allow the water to have its way with him.
The shower was designed to throw water at him from over twenty-five jets, and today he needed every single one of those jets. He felt as if he was electrified and every nerve ending was charged. The jets went a long way toward calming him. He stepped out of the shower a new man.
Foxx dressed in an all-black outfit of silk-blend black pants and a fitted black silk shirt. He wore his pants loose fitting, but his shirts always hugged his body. He completed his outfit by stepping into his size 12 Clarks black loafers.
He wore no cologne. He loved the natural smell and did not believe in people wearing heavy perfume, especially not men. Even the deodorant he wore was all natural and unscented.
After giving himself one last look in the full-length mirror on his bedroom door, Foxx went to the kitchen, picked up his keys from the table, and grabbed a blazer on his way out the door. It sometimes got chilly at night this time of year on the island.
He had a feeling he was on his way to meet his destiny and could not shake it off, no matter how hard he tried.
Driving to Therèse’s hotel, he kept going over the scenario with her at the concert, and he could not for the life of him figure out why she wanted to meet him. He had come up with several different explanations, only to abandon them in the end. He told himself he would go in with an open mind, giving nothing and expecting nothing in return.
With that mindset he walked into the lobby of Therèse’s hotel. He was ten minutes early and had timed it that way so he could have a drink to relax by the time she appeared. But alas, the best-laid plans… As he walked into the hotel lobby, Therèse just happened to enter at the same time. It would appear that great minds thought alike.
He walked up to her as she headed to the bar where they were supposed to meet. They stood together at the entrance, just looking at each other. The air was dense with the fragrance of the different varieties of flowers arranged artistically in a huge crystal vase in the center of the room.
The island was known for its beautiful flowers; in fact, the name Martinique had been derived from a word used by the native Arawak Indians who’d inhabited the island. They’d named it Madinina, island of flowers.
He forced himself to look away from Therèse long enough to admire the lavish décor of the bar. Island music from the live band filled the area. Although there were more extravagantly decorated hotels on the island, and he’d been to all of them, this put those more luxurious settings to shame. There was indeed a big difference in the quality of one hotel to the next.
This one used only the most luxurious flowers on the island to grace its centerpiece, and the effect was breathtakingly beautiful. That impression was strengthened by the appearance of Therèse.
She was stunning with a triple-stranded gold necklace with matching dangling earrings and her luxurious hair piled on top of her head in a casual knot that allowed soft curls to lovingly frame her face.
Her voluptuous body was wrapped in a royal blue sheath that molded her figure, drawing attention to her generous breasts as they strained the fabric. The eyes of everyone in the bar immediately went to her. There was no guessing what lay behind the blatant, hungry looks of the males present, and the envy of the women was obvious as they watched their men eyeing her.
The beast in Foxx growled low in his throat. It annoyed him that he could not walk up to her and claim her. Given the fact that he didn’t know the nature of their meeting, he thought it best if he played it safe and approached her cautiously. She walked up to him and flashed her magic smile, making him feel as if he were the only man in the room.
As he watched her, Foxx was again struck by the sensual way she moved. She didn’t lift her feet but rather glided across the floor, as her hips swayed in counter-movement to her glide. It was absolutely mesmerizing.
She hadn’t moved that way two years ago. He would have remembered. That walk of hers was putting wicked thoughts in his head and, he was certain, in the head of every red-blooded male present. He wondered where and why she had learned to walk that way. It was as if she had finally realized she was a very attractive, sensual woman, and rather than fight it, as she’d been prone to in the past, she was embracing it. It was as if her body was saying, “Take me, if you dare!”
This visible difference he noticed in Therèse was beginning to make him question whether he had indeed known her as well as he thought he had. She extended her hands to him in welcome. Not one but both. Taking her hands, he greeted her in the normal French fashion, a kiss on both cheeks. He saw this move on his part took her by surprise, as her face flushed a bright red, but he couldn’t fault her. To an observer, she appeared unflustered as she flashed her beautiful smile, which lit up her entire face.
Foxx could barely restrain himself from reaching for her and burying his face between her gorgeous breasts as he breathed in her unique, alluring scent. He felt the response to his thoughts in his already rampant body. He had to talk himself into behaving. He would try his hardest to be a gentleman tonight. He realized he needed to hear her out, and his mouth twisted in a bitter smile.
“Hello again, Therèse. What would you like to drink?”
“Hi, Foxx, I’ll have an amaretto sour.”
“Ah, I see your taste in drinks has not changed, as you so obviously have.”
Therèse looked up at Foxx as he stood in front of her. She had forgotten how tall he was. Standing this close to him, she felt dwarfed, although she was five-six and not considered short by any means, but next to Foxx, she felt petite. He was a tall, dark, smoldering-eyed temptation in his signature black outfit.
The man literally took her breath away. Therèse was shocked by her uncontrollable hunger to touch him. This was the way she had always felt whenever she was within touching distance of him. A strong, overwhelming desire to make physical contact with him to whatever degree possible, suddenly came over her. So powerful was the feeling that when she opened her mouth to greet him, her voice came out in a breathless rush.
“You look good, Foxx.” Not at all what she had intended, but her body was reacting to him, and her brain was not functioning right.
They continued standing at the bar. She was too nervous to suggest they take a seat, and he evidently was comfortable standing.
“I’m not as changed as you believe. I am the very same woman you met two years ago.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged. “Anyway, why am I here? What is it you have to tell me that’s so important?”
“Foxx, stop it. I know you have better things to do, but can we have a bite to eat instead of drinks, and at least be civil to one another?”
“Okay, let’s call a truce for now, he agreed.”
“Yes, let’s.”
He held out his hand to her, and without hesitation, she trustingly placed her hand in his. They took their drinks with them as they made their way to the hotel restaurant.
The restaurant was almost empty because the dinner rush had not yet begun. Dinner on Martinique was usually around eight p.m., and it was only six thirty, so they had the place almost to themselves.
They were both familiar with the dinner menu, Therèse because she’d had dinner there quite often since she’d been a guest and Foxx because he was a food connoisseur, especially of French cuisine. The fusion of Creole and French cuisine created a unique variety of tastes, smells, and colors, making dining in Martinique a truly unique experience.
They wasted no time ordering their food, and though the food looked really good, feeling nervous and queasy, she found she couldn’t eat any of it. The appetizer, which consisted of accra, a Creole fritter made of prawns, was accompanied by a hot, spicy sauce. This was followed by Boudin Créole, a sausage of pork, beef, and the island’s unique spices.
The entire dinner was crowned by the main course, lambi, which consisted of the pulp from the giant strombo, a large mollusk found in the Cari
bbean, with the usual spicy Creole sauce. For vegetables, they settled on cristophine and gratin de banane.
The entire dinner was accompanied by a Merlot, which went perfectly with the seafood. The meal ended with one of her favorite desserts, blancmange, a coconut and milk-based dessert flavored with vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
They left the restaurant and retired to the lounge with what was left of their dinner wine, although Foxx had switched to his drink of choice, Hennessy cognac. Most of the island men consumed Hennessy as if it were a tonic; in fact, they swore by it. She really didn’t care for it personally, but it tasted exciting and addictive on Foxx, and because of that, she wouldn’t complain if he drank it like water.
Finally, he was about to be put out of his misery and learn what had sent her running away from him two years before, not to mention why she was back now.
“Therèse,” he asked abruptly, “why did you return to the island after staying away for two years?”
“I didn’t think it would matter to you if I came or not, let alone when I came. But to answer your question, I came to satisfy my need to be here, if even for the last time. Would you deny me this?”
Foxx felt as if a giant hand were squeezing his heart. All of a sudden he was having difficulty breathing. God, please don’t tell me she is sick. Schooling his face to hide the turmoil going through him, he asked the question that her statement had triggered. “Vous êtes malade? Are you ill?” He was so concerned about her he automatically reverted to his native language in his distress.
“No,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Your statement earlier gave me pause.”
“I’m sorry; that was not my intent.”
“Well, go on with your story. I’ll try not to interrupt you again.”
Not interrupt my story, she thought, torn between anguish and self-deprecating laughter. How many cold, lonely nights she had spent wishing he were there beside her, spooning her with his body while she slept. Now his very presence had reduced her to a blubbering idiot.
“Would you care if I was ill?”
“Certainement. I care about your health; after all, we were friends once.”
“Friends,” she repeated, trying to keep her voice neutral.
“Why, yes. We were very good friends once, wouldn’t you say? I had often wondered what had become of you after you left the island and returned to England.”
“Well, now you will know. This is why I asked you to meet me here.”
“Why now after two years?”
“I realized I could no longer put off the inevitable, no longer fight my heart.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Let me start from the beginning, which was the last time I saw you before I boarded the airplane to return home. It started with a rock.”
She had promised to meet Foxx at his restaurant that night. She had been in her room getting ready when a huge rock came flying through her window, landing exactly on the spot where she had stood just moments before.
She was so shocked and frightened it took her a minute to react. She dared not go to the window for fear another would come flying through. Instead, she walked over to the stone and picked it up.
It was wrapped with a white cloth spotted with something red. There was a message written on the cloth: Go back to your country, bitch, and leave Foxx alone. This is the only warning you’ll receive. After that, your blood will replace the ink that was used to write on this rag.
At first, she had dropped the rock and the rag it was wrapped in, but as she turned to run out of the hotel room partially dressed, she’d picked them up and had taken them with her.
She ran to the door of one of her alumnae sisters, Marcie. Marcie was the oldest in the group and a very logical individual.
By the time she got to Marcie’s door, she was hyperventilating. She was not able to catch a proper breath. When she thought of the size of the rock and the fact that it landed exactly where she had been standing, she realized someone had been spying on her. Remaining in her room no longer felt safe.
Unable to talk, she handed the rock and the rag to Marcie. Her friend took them from her and stared at them, speechlessly.
“Where did you get this, Therèse?” she’d asked, wrapping her arms around her friend.
“It came flying though my window two minutes ago.”
“It came flying through your window? You should report this to the manager of the hotel, Therèse,” Marcie advised.
“Yes,” she agreed, “and I don’t want to go back to that room tonight. I want to have my room changed.”
“Agreed, we’ll take care of this together.”
Together, they made their way to the hotel’s front desk. She gave the rock to the hotel manager and related the entire episode to him. He was very apologetic and wrote up an incident report. He then had her moved from the second floor to the sixth floor of the hotel. She didn’t like being on the sixth floor away from her other sisters, but she felt a bit safer there, knowing it would be difficult to throw a rock this high up.
She had called Foxx and cancelled their date for the evening, telling him one of her alumnae sisters was not well and they all were going to remain at the hotel with her.
She needed to buy herself some time to figure things out and to get herself under control. She didn’t want Foxx to see her so upset. He would have known immediately something wasn’t right.
She and Marcie went to look for the other two sisters to make certain they were okay. Tia was in her room fast asleep, but they couldn’t locate Earline.
This was a bit strange; Earline was always in her room. She did not speak French and had difficulty communicating with the natives. It was a circumstance she used as an excuse to follow Therèse around everywhere she went. That was until Therèse and Foxx became an item and she was forced to take a back seat to him.
The day of the incident, there was no sign of Earline until they were about to sit down to dinner. She’d given no explanation for her absence, and the other two were busy with dinner and did not pay much attention to her.
Therèse had joined them for dinner, but she was too worried about the rock incident to enjoy the wonderfully prepared meal.
This was the first time she had gone an entire day and not seen Foxx since their first meeting. Much as she wanted to see him, she thought it best if she stayed away until she was able to sort things out. She had reckoned without Foxx.
The day following the incident, she couldn’t stop Foxx from coming to the hotel, though she tried, oh, how she tried. She had given him one explanation after the next, but the more elaborate her explanation, the more determined he became to see her.
In the end, he just appeared without calling her, and of course, like lovesick fools, they became immediately engaged in heated lovemaking.
After he left, she had to accept she was just too weak where Foxx was concerned to remain in Martinique and not see him. She had no willpower to resist him.
Unable to sleep much that night, the next morning, as soon as she was certain Foxx would be at his restaurant, she called to let him know she was on her way to see him. She wanted to discuss the events of the past two days with him.
Turning into the parking area of his restaurant, she had still not worked out the best way to tell him about the incident and to recommend that they slowed things down a bit when another rock crashed through the windshield.
There had been a few people about, and no one seemed to have seen who threw the rock. The natives began speaking in their Creole language, and all turned away from her. She’d thought of going in to get Foxx, but she didn’t know if that move would further aggravate matters. Getting back into her car, she was shaking like a leaf as she made her way back to the hotel. The message was clear; she was to stay away from Foxx.
When she got there, two of her sisters were there, Marcie and Tia, but Earline was missing again. She must have found something or someone to occupy her time with. May
be now she’d stay out of Therèse’s affairs. Lately, she and Earline were constantly at loggerheads. Everything she said seemed to set Earline off. So she was thankful the woman hadn’t been present either time to witness her humiliation.
In retrospect, she had to wonder whether Earline knew more about the incident that had taken place on the island two years ago than she’d let on.
Her problem back then had been not telling Foxx about the threats on her life. Feeling overwhelmed, she had allowed her alumnae sisters to talk her into returning home. And within less than twenty-four hours, they were all on a plane back to England.
She hadn’t given Foxx the opportunity to talk her into remaining on the island to wait while he arranged with his brother to take some time off, to accompany her back to England. Thinking only of her safety, she returned home without him.
After the unfortunate way she’d left Foxx, he had refused all communications from her. He would not take her calls and did not reply to her letters. They all came back to her unopened, marked “Return to sender.”
She had spent the last two years trying not to think about Foxx, trying to forget him. She’d hoped that time would lessen her memories of him, but Foxx had remained like a spirit, occupying her every waking moment. In the last year, he’d begun invading her dreams, forcing her to acknowledge what she’d tried to ignore during the daylight hours.
She had no way of knowing if he had moved on, gotten married, and started a family. There was no one on the island in whom she could confide. In the end, she had put her store up for sale.
Therèse did promise to wait until it sold before making the trip back to Martinique, but her need to see Foxx grew stronger every day. And unfortunately, because of the slump in the market, the store had not elicited any interested buyers. After another year went by, and she knew if she did not return to the island just to see for herself how Foxx was doing, she would go crazy.