by Cherry Kay
Iesha had wanted to drum it in her head, over and over again, that she was probably just the flavor of the season, a temporary distraction, as temporary as her stay in Spain. She headed back to her apartment, wasting a few minutes getting lost, riding the wrong bus, getting off, getting lost again, until she found the right bus stop and bus number.
She was sweaty and tired, but she couldn’t bear lying on the clean bedsheets—that clean freak part of her had annoyed Terrence the most. She wouldn’t sleep with work clothes on, ever. She wouldn’t hit the sack without a shower, no matter how quick.
“The bedbugs have decided to move,” Terrence once announced, much to her laughter.
Iesha decided to just lay on the floor rug, after taking off her sweats. Sure, it wasn’t attractive to look at, but no one knew her here. That was a plus. Before she knew it, she had dozed off and awoken at five minutes past six in the evening.
Her heart pounded. Alex had said he would be at her place by six-forty. Hastily, she showered, making sure to rinse off well, scrubbing and shampooing with ferocity. She panicked, realizing she hadn’t picked out which outfit to wear. Her capsule wardrobe was in disarray by the time she picked out an emergency outfit.
She saw her phone screen light up, saw it was from him. He was ten minutes away, and she was barefaced. Screw this, she thought, quickly placing powder and a bit of lipstick. It was hardly a va-va-voom outfit, but at least she looked decent, like an actual human. She didn’t even know where dinner was going to be. What if it was somewhere fancy? He didn’t strike her as that kind of guy, one who would take someone out to a Michelin-starred dining place… but what if?
She wanted to calm her frayed nerves. Her mother always said she was a bit panicky, something she picked up from her father. He wanted to pick her up at her front door. How sweet was that? Was it? Or did he just want to see where she lived and if she was a neat person?
Her doorbell chimed, and she took a deep breath and opened it. He was dressed business casual, clearly from the office. She breathed out a sigh of relief.
“What?” he said, looking at her quizzically.
“Long story. I’ll tell you about it on the way to wherever we’re eating.”
“Oh, it’s just one of my favorite little restaurants,” he said. “Shall we?”
A little while later, as he cruised down the street, he asked her how her day went.
“First flamenco lessons were today. They were a league away from what I learned in California,” she said. “I think I did okay. By okay, I meant I was gasping and sweating like a pig.”
He grinned. “Is that why it took you awhile to reply to my message?”
She paused. “I fell asleep as soon as I got home, actually. I couldn’t bear to sleep on the bed all messy from dancing, so I fell asleep on the floor rug.”
He laughed. “My, my, my. We’ve got a neat freak here.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not too much. Just enough to have my clothes arranged by color.”
Iesha laughed. “I’m not that obsessive. But yeah, that practice knocked me out, big-time. I haven’t felt that in a while.”
“When’s your next lesson?”
“The day after tomorrow,” she replied. “I figured I could spend tomorrow looking at flamenco dresses. I wanna make my own.”
“Artistry calls,” he said. “Sorry, I can’t come with you again. I’d have wanted to.”
“You were already working before you bumped into me.”
“It’d be nice to take you somewhere else, one that isn’t dinner or drinks.”
“You’re doing more than enough for a stranger.”
“You’re an acquaintance already,” he said jokingly as he stopped the car. Across the street, she saw an unassuming building, with a little lit-up sign hanging by the door.
“That’s where we’re eating,” he told her. “For some fine iberico ham.”
“I’ve never had iberico ham…”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m taking you to the city’s best.”
She smiled as they walked in. Apparently they knew him well enough to give him a good seat, tucked away in a corner.
“You haven’t been here in a while, señor,” a waiter said with a smile.
“You know what I like,” Alex said, and the waiter nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
“It’s like all these people know you.”
“Not everyone. Just the places I really like.”
She wondered if he had taken his previous dates here. He must have had dates, even if he remained single. It was impossible for a guy that good looking not to find a date.
“You look nice,” he suddenly said, his head cocking sideways just a little.
She felt her ears grow hot. Look nice. Right. “Thank you?” she said.
“You aren’t sure to thank me for saying you look nice?”
“It’s just… well… I didn’t dress as nice as I hoped I could.”
“Because you fell asleep and you wanted to impress me with your date war paint?”
“My what?”
“Makeup,” he said with a frown.
“You meant makeup,” Iesha laughed. “Well, I did want to look far more presentable. But circumstances stopped me from doing that. Final product is what you see now. So… thank you for saying I look nice.”
“I meant it. I don’t say things I don’t mean. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
“Ah, you’re feeling now?”
“Don’t push it,” he said, raising a brow. “Tell me more about you.”
“Like what?” There wasn’t much to know, unless every detail in her life was pertinent to this date. She had wondered what his favorite color was, wondered what season he enjoyed the most, and wondered if he had any favorite food in particular. The list was endless. It was like starting all over again. She was a neophyte to the dating scene, quite so suddenly.
“Well, what got you into dancing?” he suggested. “Was it the flamenco right away?”
“I’ve been dancing non-professionally since I was eight. I took ballet lessons, jazz lessons, and the usual dance classes. Flamenco was something I discovered in high school but didn’t pay much attention to, until a few months ago. I told myself I’d come here, just to learn. I think it was a sort of excuse, too, to get that vacation I never thought I’d needed until now. You… what’s with all this eating out?”
He chuckled. “Funny, you’d ask. I just enjoy eating out. It’s part of my budget, mind you. I like discovering new restaurants and enjoy coming back to the restaurants that I think are perfect for my taste buds.”
“I was thinking you’d have brought dates here and there to all these restaurants you like.”
He looked at her for a moment. “I have. I like to replace my bitter or traumatizing memories with happy ones like these.”
Should I be flattered? That he took me here to replace those bad memories? Like I’m the happy memory right here in the making. She took a deep breath.
“That came out wrong, didn’t it?” he spoke up. “It’s not like I’ve had completely bad memories with those dates. It’s just that… those dates didn’t last very long.”
“Like this won’t?” she chimed up.
“I want it to last longer than most.”
“By that you mean, a month and two weeks?” Iesha said wryly. The candlelight centerpiece flickered on the table as she said that.
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know where I’m going with this, really. I can’t very well ask anything of you.”
Yeah, you don’t have that power over me, she thought suddenly and savagely. It surprised her. It surprised her that she was mad at what he had said, offended that she was going to be a sort of patch-up for those dates that had given him bad memories.
“You look mad. Don’t be mad,” he said, his voice dropping one tone lower, and it felt almost like a whisper on a cold night. “It does make you look sexy, however.”
&
nbsp; She frowned. “What—?”
And then she felt a hand on her leg, sliding its way up to her thigh. His hand was warm, and it made her face feel warm. What was he doing? She frowned momentarily at him, and then her annoyance grew into surprise. She felt his fingers trailing up her skin, and they brushed against her panties.
“Lace,” he whispered. “Can’t wait to see what we can come up with tonight.”
It was an invitation for sex, hot, passionate, and sweaty—just like the flamenco. She tried to act as normal as she could when their orders arrived, but she found it difficult to swallow food down.
“How is it?” he asked her later on with an all-knowing smile. He was calm, toying with her.
He was getting his freak on by getting her nerves frazzled inside a restaurant. Well, two can play at that game. She didn’t want to end up as the only one begging for pleasure later on. She smiled at him, leaning against the table, showing off her cleavage (thank god she had ample breasts).
“I’d have to say it’s good,” she said, licking her lips.
He groaned and laughed. “You’re getting back at me, aren’t you?” he leaned in closer. “What color are your panties?”
She winked at him. “You’ll have to guess.”
“Can’t wait to take them off…” he mustered.
“First, we have to finish this meal. Then you take me around to places I’ve never been. I’ve already been to your place so…”
“You’re good at this, you know that?” he told her.
She smiled.
*
They walked around the city, bar-hopping, their dancing flirtatious—all an intense buildup of anticipation for their post-outing activities. The moment he closed the door to his apartment, he quickly scooped her up to a table, hiking her dress up to her waist.
Iesha’s tongue eagerly mated with his, his lips tinged with the taste of sweet dessert wine. Her arms encircled his neck, as he impatiently pulled down her tube dress after unzipping it. Her brassiere matched her black lace panties, something that made him groan aloud, apparently.
“I couldn’t wait,” he murmured to her, holding onto her waist. “I wanted to eat you right then and there.”
Iesha exulted in his intense, carnal desire for her. His hands roamed for her heat, and he smiled at her.
“You’re wet,” he said. “Glad you want this as much as I do.”
Those words sent a shiver down her spine. He wanted this as much as she did. This was no slow affair; this was fast paced, a dance reaching its climax. She wanted him inside her—by god, she wanted it now. He set aside her lace panties almost violently, pulling her close to him as they began a rhythm that satiated their need for each other.
Her legs locked around his waist, her hands gripped the edge of the table, and her back arched as he thrust his cock inside her again and again and again.
She didn’t want it to end.
*
It had to end. Everything good or bad had to end somehow. She felt sore after that third round, glad that he was as tired as she was. He was asleep on his bed, one arm over his face, snoring gently. Slowly, she crept away from him, heading for the kitchen. She needed time to think, to reflect. Reflect on what? Her amazing sex-life? One she didn’t know could exist?
He had awakened in her a part she thought had died. She hadn’t wanted to be touched by anyone, let alone a man, ever again. And then he just had to place his hand on her thigh earlier—he just had to stoke that fire.
She knew she hadn’t been doing well while she had been alone, but she thought she needed that alone time to recollect her thoughts, to collect herself and the pieces that had been broken. She didn’t know she needed him. Did she? Or did she just want him?
Iesha knew it was bad to romanticize something like this. It was too soon to assume things would go well between them. In fact, things were going too well right now. She didn’t want to wake him up just so he could bring her home. She knew he’d had a long day, and yet he went out of his way to entertain her, to take her out for dinner, and then this.
She decided she would take an Uber. Iesha drank her glass of water and looked at the clothes strewn on the floor. Didn’t they need to hurry up? She didn’t have much time here, anyway. Enjoy it while it lasts sounded ugly to her, but it was the truth. She had to enjoy it. She was here to relax, right? Here to forget. She had already forgotten that she’d almost gotten married. So conveniently? Well, Alex Gonzales was conveniently hot… and available. What more could she ask for?
This was her little Spanish romance, something she wanted to keep and brag to the world about if she could. She quickly gathered her things and got dressed, then waited for her Uber at the lobby of the building. The ride home was uneventful. It was almost eleven in the evening. She had left a note and texted him that she had gone home.
No sooner had she arrived at her place than she received a text from him, asking her if she had gotten home safely, apologizing profusely for having been unable to take her back to her apartment.
She smiled and replied she was fine and that he should sleep again.
Iesha took a leisurely shower, enjoying the warm water, recalling the lovely events of the night and how it ended with a bang. How do you make a happiness like this last? She wondered.
Chapter6
Three days—that was all the time it took for Alex to know that he was attached to Iesha Thompson. Attachment was a dangerous thing. It meant that he was getting serious for something he had no control over. Sure, he could control designs, but he couldn’t control people fully, let alone her.
So he had slept with her twice, and he enjoyed both times immensely. He felt like a horny teenager, always wanting more. Blame it on her curves, or her face, or her brain, whatever. He was attracted to her, that much he knew—so attracted that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He didn’t want to seem clingy, so he would give a couple of hours spacing between his texts, just to ask her where she was, or where she was going to eat. He was becoming that guy again, the guy he didn’t want to be anymore, not after what he had gone through.
He couldn’t help it, not at this moment. He only had a short amount of time with her, and he wanted to make the most out of it. He had planned the next day, a Sunday, where it would be just him and her the whole day.
She had only been in Spain for a week, but it felt like he had met her ages ago. She opened up to him more and more, just how he liked it. They talked about anything and everything, except what was happening between them. It wasn’t a cause for alarm. Being cautious was part of dating—if they were even dating. Was it even called dating? Shouldn’t the term be hooking up?
Why keep secrets from each other? It was such a couple-thing to do, but if it was, she said nothing of it. She genuinely enjoyed his company, didn’t she? Not just for the mere fact that he was single. He asked her one-sided questions, just so he could keep track of what she was doing. She had been to Gaudi’s works, the buildings and all. She had strolled down the streets, searching, trying to appease that never-ending need for inspiration.
What else did she need? He thought he would take her out for a drive, somewhere out of Barcelona, just for kicks. It would be a good way to use time. He had gotten her a dress from a flamenco shop, knowing she would look ravishing in red. He hoped he had assumed her measurements correctly. It was a dress he wanted to see her dance in and then hopefully take off after.
He felt an erection growing, and he shook his head and smiled to himself. All in a day’s work, huh?
*
“How has Barcelona been treating you?” her mother asked her over a video call, just as she was about to eat her breakfast and then proceed to Flamenco classes.
“It’s been okay,” she said lamely, knowing it would be too premature to tell her mother, Luisa, that she was seeing a man she had met on her first day in the city.
“Doesn’t sound very enthusiastic for someone who’s learning the flamenco,” her mother said
dryly. “Where’s the spirit? Where’s the fire?”
“I have a heater,” Iesha said with a laugh. “But, it’s been great so far.”
“Met anyone?”
Her heart pounded for a moment. Her mother had such a good radar for things even she couldn’t realize or recognize—or worse, try to keep to herself.
“A few. Dancers from the same class. They’re nice.”
“No one attractive?” her mother teased.
“They’re often gay, but I don’t mind. They’re nice to look at,” she replied.
“Really?” her mother sighed, “I’d have wanted you to meet someone.”
“What gives with the sudden pressure, ma?”
Her mother sighed again. “It’s nothing important sweetheart.”
“Did something happen?” her paranoia suddenly sprang to life. She didn’t want to hear it, but she felt it, and she didn’t want to. She knew her mother would never lie to her. “Spill it, ma.”
“Well, hija, Terrence came over yesterday…”
Her ex-fiancé came to visit her mother. Where? “Where?” she asked, feeling that ugly feeling that she had tried so hard to forget.
“The store. Good thing your father was there.”
“Papa didn’t beat him up, right?” She was, however, hoping her father threatened the guy at some point, no matter how mean and childish that seemed.
“No,” her mother said, “I wanted to, but your father forced me to remain civil.”
“I can’t imagine how he did that,” Iesha admitted, smiling. Her mother was a tiny woman, a force to be reckoned with when angry, though. Her own father didn’t even try to placate her when she fumed and ranted, calling her the ‘Spanish tempest’ on the most appropriate of occasions.
“Oh sweetie, you have no idea how I wanted to give him a piece of his mind.”
“You mean a piece of your mind?”