by DL White
I hoped we'd get the chance to get up close and personal, in the most literal way possible. My mind began a journey that it had traveled many, many times since I'd met Esme. Wondering, imagining, daydreaming about the day when my fingers could glide along her skin, when I could cup her breasts in my hands and pinch her nipples before taking them into my mouth and sucking them to full, taut attention.
I groaned aloud, pumping my dick in one hand, holding onto the built-in shelf in the shower with the other, my thoughts and desires to feel every bend of her curves up against my body running wild in my mind. I shuddered, climaxing with a groan and a spurt at the mental image of her long legs locked around my torso while I plunged deep into her, then her thighs flung over my shoulders as I devoured her. I heard her moan in my mind; imagined how she would shake and writhe under my power.
Fuck, I wanted her. Like I had never wanted a woman before.
I regained my breath and balance and, though the water was cold, scrubbed down once more for good measure and hopped out of the shower. I grabbed a bath sheet from the rack off of the wall, and wiped the water away, spent a few minutes replenishing moisture with body oil, and did the same with my hair.
I checked my phone and was pleased to see that I had plenty of time to grab a cat nap before I had to head to Esme's house. I set the alarm, then stretched my limbs out on the bed.
Sated, clean, relaxed, I was asleep in moments.
Esme sat across from me, her head bowed over the menu at Two Urban Licks, a rustic, warehouse turned restaurant that featured rotisserie-cooked meats and seafood alongside fire-roasted vegetables. I had every reason to be looking directly at her, and I still felt like I was doing something wrong.
Her hair was piled high on top of her head in a messy bun with curls spilling out. Her black lace top, so sheer that I could see the dark bra underneath, put a tempting amount of cleavage and skin on display. It flared out at the waist, drawing my eye to the curves that I had thought about in the shower. Her worn denim jeans, cuffed mid-calf, paired with black matte leather sneakers, said she was ready for whatever I had in store for us.
"What's good here?" Her head rose, giving me enough time to bring my eyes up to meet hers. "Everything looks amazing. I don't know where to start."
I pointed out a few of my favorites on the menu, including the spicy turkey wings, the ribs and the crab lettuce wraps on the appetizer menu.
"You can't really go wrong with anything on the entree menu," I told her. "Red meat, white meat, seafood… they do it all really well here. And save room for dessert. Their peach pie hits me right after a good meal."
Esme laughed, cocking her head back a little so I could see all of her pretty white teeth. "You like food. I like that."
"Sometimes a little too much, but I got that under control."
"Trey. I have a confession."
Esme clasped her hands together, resting her elbows on the table. Her face looked bare, but I knew enough about women to know that a bare natural face took a lot of effort. The pop of color was her lips, coated in a berry tone that complimented her skin. I hoped it was that stuff that wouldn't come off when I kissed her.
"Confess away."
"I… I looked you up. I mean, I used Google. I didn't run a background check or anything."
"Fair," I commented, sitting back so the server could set glasses of ice water and wrapped silverware in front of us. When he left the table, promising to be back to take our orders, I continued. "I expected that. And what did you find? Anything surprising?"
"Well, I knew a lot about Pettigrew Construction. I did my research to put together Miller's counterpoints for the contract, comparing and contrasting the strengths of each company to demonstrate how you fit together like puzzle pieces. But this time, I looked deeper into the founding of the company, some of the bigger, more historical projects the company played a hand in. Like the Ponce City Market and Nine Mile Station projects, both pay homage to Atlanta's history and bring construction into the next millennium. Impressive."
Esme picked up her water glass and sipped, then licked her lips before going on. I was listening to her but also noticed that her lipstick didn't budge. Good.
"Then I got to Trey Pettigrew." She paused to smile. "Saul the third, though it's never acknowledged on the company website. Is that on purpose?"
I nodded. "As I said, I'm intended to be third in name only, in the hopes that I'll have a son and carry it on. But looking at how I've been running my dad's company in his absence, it may have more meaning than that."
Esme was nodding as I spoke. "Saul looks… well, certainly, he's a powerful man. He looks foreboding in his CEO portrait. Is he controlling?"
"Pops is a teddy bear," I said. "Until you don't do what he wants you to do. I don't know if it's controlling, so much as he has an idea of how things should be done and can't imagine anyone doing it any other way. It blows his mind. You sort of… fall in line."
I made a motion with my hands, of one moving after the other.
"Mmmmm," she mused. "And have you fallen in line?"
"Some. More than I planned to. More than I want to. It's a necessary evil but, I'm trying to do this job my way."
"You uhm…you look different in your website photo. I would have never believed it was you if you didn't look exactly like Saul."
I laughed, remembering that I hadn't had my images updated when I took over Pettigrew. It was a bone of contention with the web design team, but I'd refused so many times, they'd stopped asking. There was no reason to waste time and money on a photoshoot. Saul would be back in his rightful place.
Though, lately, I wasn't so sure about that.
"Heh. That photo tells a story about five years, fifty pounds, and months trying to get my beard to connect."
"It seems like it was well spent. You look great. Very handsome."
"Thank you, Esme. A genuine compliment from those lips means the world to me."
"There must be something about the mid-thirties, you know?" She said, moving her hands to her lap, relaxing against the cushion behind her. We'd been seated in the corner of the restaurant. I was in a regular chair on one side of the table; I gave the more comfortable booth seating to Esme. "I woke up at thirty-five, and every clock was screaming at me. My life was almost half over, and what was I doing with it? I'd wasted that time existing. Just… being here on the planet. It wasn't good enough anymore. That's when I started making changes."
"Like?"
"Well, a change of habits. New wardrobe. Letting my sisters play in my hair, making them take me shopping."
She fingered the delicate lace of her blouse. "I wanted to look better and feel better. I went back to school. An MBA meant I was eligible for a senior position at Benning. It also meant that I could compete in the job market. If this contract doesn't go through—"
"It will because we're making it happen."
"Well, you never know. Things like this can turn on a dime. I've seen it happen. But now I have confidence that I could step outside of Benning and make as much or more elsewhere. Hopefully, more."
"I feel you on that mid-thirty crisis." I reached for the glass of water in front of me and took a sip, sucking a few cubes of ice into my mouth. I crunched the ice between my teeth. "I hit thirty-four and felt the same. I started taking classes, too. Dabbling in a few things. I hated how I felt, the way I looked, so I spent time and effort on self-improvement. I still like to eat… obviously."
I sent a smirk across the table. She caught it and returned it. "But I don't miss a workout. And, I'm removing things that don't make me happy. Like that Marie Kondo chick says to do."
"The other part of that practice is to keep or procure what brings you joy."
"That's where you come in."
There it was. The blush, the sweep of her eyelashes when she closed her eyes briefly, then refocused her gaze on mine.
The waiter appeared at our table, a thin electronic pad in one hand. "What can I get you started with
this evening?"
Esme and I both chose an appetizer, then placed orders for roast chicken and brisket. We each chose a different roasted vegetable and agreed to share. Then I ordered dessert ahead but asked for it to go. As the waiter stepped away, I saw the question in her eyes.
"We have to celebrate conquering your next fear. I celebrate with pie."
Chapter Nineteen
Trey
* * *
I paid for dinner, drinks and dessert in cash, leaving a hefty gratuity, mostly to impress Esme, but also out of solidarity. When I wasn't working for Pops, I was serving, bussing tables, washing dishes, sweeping floors. When I say I felt weird in a suit and tie, I meant it.
When Pops pulled me from the field office to work in the corporate office, it didn't feel like a come-up. I felt stifled. I didn't mind calloused hands and work boots. But I also understood that Pops wanted someone in the role that could, someday, take his place. Why he felt Vincent wasn't that dude was a mystery to me, but I hoped that me being at the helm at Pettigrew wasn't on his five-year plan, because it definitely wasn't on mine.
I grabbed the handles of the brown paper bag with two servings of peach pie and walked with Esme to the car as the valet brought it around. He made sure we were safely inside, nodding his appreciation at the folded bills that I slipped into his palm as we shook hands.
"So!" I called out, maneuvering out of the parking lot. "Extreme sport."
"Yep. Do you mind if I change the music? There's a station I like."
"You don't like the SoulCycle channel? It's supposed to pump you up for tonight's adventure!" I laughed at the look she sent me. "You know I say shit like that to get you to look at me that way, right?"
"I just figured that out." She punched through the buttons on my dashboard, flipping up and down the dial.
"The channels with skinny, ugly rappers whining about not getting pussy till they got rich are higher on the dial."
She landed on a channel, then sat back.
I nodded my head to the beat as I pointed us north to our next destination. "What channel is this?"
"Heart & Soul. This is Rashaan Patterson. Do you know him?"
"Vaguely. You know when I realized that I'd hit that mid-thirties crisis? I started liking this adult R&B stuff. Turning down the hip hop, because it was so loud, and the bass was so heavy, and the lyrics are just... everyone's just whining about how hard it is to be rich."
"Not being able to find stark white Nikes in your size is an epidemic."
"When I started going to bed early so I could get up and work out?" I shook my head, frowning hard. "It was over for this kid. I could pretend before, but I was officially an adult."
"You know what I did today? I got up early, put on my mama's Aretha Franklin records—"
"I know what's coming," I broke in, already laughing.
"That's what Saturday was about at our house. Mama waking us up ass early, having me, Jewel and Jada in a headscarf scrubbing shit, doing laundry, cleaning our rooms."
"Now I spend my Saturdays at my folks' house doing yard work."
"When I got grown, I was going to sleep in on Saturdays. Then do whatever I wanted to do." She sucked her teeth. "I couldn't wait to get up this morning, strip the bed, mop the floors, clean the house top to bottom, especially since O'Neal isn't around to mess it up. I've become my mother."
"Maybe that's not all bad. She set a good example."
"That chick sleeps in now. Doing whatever she wants to do on Saturday."
"So we don't get grown until retirement."
We both laughed at that.
"Does your sister live here, Trey? You don't talk about her much."
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and chewed on it. I hadn't expected her to ask about Missy. I was never ready to talk about her.
"Missy…" I began but quickly gave up articulating any thought that she'd be able to understand. "The situation with Missy is complicated. I love my sister. We just... it's a lot. I'd like to leave her out of this for a little while."
"Oh, sure," she replied. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry."
"Nah, don't apologize." I reached across the console and laid a hand on her thigh, giving her a few reassuring taps. "We're getting to know each other. You can ask whatever."
"Just not about Missy."
I glanced over at her and tried to soften my expression. I wasn't angry, but she was pressing on a nerve. "Not right now, Es. Alright?"
I saw her head bob in agreement. Then she propped her elbow up on the windowsill and rested her head in her palm. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"It'll be obvious when we get there."
Esme didn't ask any more questions or make any more comments. We listened to the radio and watched the traffic as I headed north. After a few minutes, though, she moved her hand to rest on top of mine and then curled her fingers under my palm.
And then I could exhale because I knew then that she wasn't angry or feeling weird about how I cut off that conversation. My relationship with Missy had been a sore spot for too long. It was probably something I needed to see a therapist about.
I switched lanes, then turned into a parking lot. I slowed to a stop next to an activity center housed in a strip mall, then pulled into a spot. Esme sat up, then leaned forward, squinting to read the neon sign that flashed.
"Lunar Golf," she read aloud. "That doesn't sound very extreme, Trey."
"We're going over there," I said, pointing to the other side of the building. I watched her eyes grow wide as she read the sign.
"Laser Maze. What is a laser maze?"
"Ok, did you see Oceans 12? Remember the dude had to dance through that room, around the laser beams? If you break the beam, the alarm goes off. It's like that, but we're not in the middle of a jewelry heist."
"Ohhh." Esme paused. Then glanced at me and giggled. "This is my extreme sport, Trey?"
"You ruled out bungee jumping, so…" I shrugged. "They play Mission: Impossible music while you're in there. You can be Tom Cruise."
"Alright. Sounds fun." She clapped, then released her seat belt and popped open her door, making the dome bulb fill the interior with light.
"Wait, wait. Esme. Hold up."
"Yeah?" She paused, turning to me. The excitement in her voice matched the anticipation on her face.
"I know we're just hanging out, but… I'm dying to kiss you. Your lips, and that lipstick and the way you smile are just begging me to put my mouth on you."
There was always the possibility she would get out of the car and slam the door in my face. This was Esme, after all. Instead, she leaned toward me, lips slightly parted. I took it as an invitation and pressed my lips to hers.
But that peck, that chaste kiss was not nearly enough for me. As many times as the thought of this woman had brought me to climax in the last week, I needed more.
I teased her with my tongue, deepening the kiss. Esme purred. The sound brought me out of the trance that her lips had put me in. I pulled back in time to catch her breathy exhale while her eyes were still closed.
"I've been thinking about kissing you since the last time we kissed. And..." Esme opened her eyes, finding mine. "When you said you wanted to put your mouth on me… I wasn't thinking about kissing."
"Are you hinting, Esme?"
"Not at all." She shook her head. "A benefit of this big age is that I can be straightforward. You said you planned to pursue me. I'm letting you know how very open I am to that."
I didn't know what to say to that, honestly. No games, no subterfuge? Did I even know how to deal with a woman that didn't play with me, bat me around like a cat before going in for the kill?
"Let's go do a laser maze. I need to finish my list."
"The object of the game is to make it through the maze without breaking the beam."
Our mission guide was a kid who couldn't be older than 16. He took the tickets I'd printed out at home earlier and went over the rules of play with us. I'd paid for a pr
ivate game, so Esme and I would be the only two players. If I wanted to pause the game to grab her and kiss her, I didn't want to be holding anyone up.
"However, you'll get two free beams. If you break a third beam, you have to go back to the beginning."
He opened the door to let us into a room that was pitch black and quiet. Then the room exploded in a burst of neon light that narrowed to dozens of thin beams. Overhead, the first strains of the Mission: Impossible theme poured from the speakers.
Esme's eyes danced, watching the laser beams form across the room. She grinned at me, then tucked her hand into mine. "Let's get our Tom Cruise on!"
We weren't so much Tom Cruise as Tom Greene. Esme spent a lot of time rolling around on the floor under high beams and making dramatic leaps to jump over relatively low beams.
"You don't need to do all of that, Esme. You're expending energy you might need later." I stepped over a low beam of light.
"I'm making it extreme!" She shouted, darting from one edge of the room to the other, then leaping over the same beam I'd stepped over. "You picked this. I'm making it worth crossing off my list."
I grabbed her arm before she could run past me again. "Aight. Let's make a deal."
"Another one? I can't wait to hear this one."
"If we make it through this maze without breaking another beam—because we already broke one, remember? You tell me what else is on your list."
Esme's face, or what I could see of it, went blank.
"Don't shut down on me. I'm half of this equation, Esme. I'm the one doing these things with you. Shouldn't I know what we're doing? What we're working toward?"
"I don't know if I'm ready to share yet. There's two…"
She huffed, throwing up her hands, then slapping her thighs in what was probably frustration. I couldn't blame her; I was pushing hard. But I needed more. I needed her to let me in more.
"I wish you knew how much I'm putting myself out, Trey."