Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Belvin, Love

  “Mr. Jacobs,” I announced with a tremble in my voice as I rose from my desk attempting professionalism in hopes of throwing Sharon off when I’m sure I wasn’t.

  “Hello,” he greeted as he graded around Sharon and into my office. Sharon left closing the door right behind her, notwithstanding Azmir’s signature panty-snatching smirk as he thanked her, sending her over the moon.

  His unannounced visit concerned me and I felt a bit anxious. But it was the way he looked at me, he always had that intense glare in his eyes. It did things to me. Immediately I thought back to his carnal acts that night at Mahogany. I locked my gaze onto him and tried to mask with my eyes that I wanted to ride him like a cowgirl. Damn, this man is so fine with his tall and chocolate ass! Although I’d hoped he didn’t know what was specifically going through my head, we both chortled as though whatever it was he could guess.

  “I wanted to come check you out. It occurred to me this morning that I hadn’t seen you in a few days. I’m sorry for leaving you that night in Venice—”

  I couldn’t be indifferent to his usual silky baritone voice, but I interrupted him by saying, “Azmir, I told you that you were forgiven for that. I understand that you’re a busy man and are depended on by many. I’m sure whatever you rushed off to warranted your abrupt departure.” I’d had time to build a resolve. A protective wall.

  It killed me that he waited so long to see me after abandoning me that night but within days I recoiled emotionally, I couldn’t allow myself to fall so deep into a man.

  Flashing that panty-snatching smile, he told me that my arctic exterior wouldn’t deter him. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to find out when we can go out again.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Ummm, when did you have in mind?” I walked over to my desk to check my calendar.

  “I’m flexible,” he said with those piercing eyes drinking me in while gauging my response.

  “How about Sunday? I have a manicure and pedicure appointment but that’s early in the morning. Oh, and I am on call,” I read my calendar out loud, “…though typically, I don’t hear a peep from the call service,” I said continuing my rambling as I searched my calendar.

  “Evening is good?”

  “Did you have any place in mind?”

  “I thought we’d stay in. How about I cook for you?” he asked sizing me up starting from my hips. What was that all about? Did this mean that I didn’t have to beg for him? I wouldn’t.

  “That sounds nice if you can cook. Can you?” I asked surprised by his gesture.

  He raised his eyebrow and a smirk crested upon his beautiful face. “I know a recipe or two but I’m no cook. You promised me a private tour of your new home. How about there?”

  Oh, no!

  “Well, you never offered your home. Plus, I’m still furnishing mine, so how about your bachelor’s pad?” I said not wanting him to come to my home until I saw his. Also, I wanted to get to know Azmir better and seeing his bat cave would certainly do that.

  He gave me a keen gaze as if he knew I didn’t want him coming to my house before saying, “Alright. You got that. My place it is.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I beamed feeling like I scored.

  Azmir smiled in return. “I’m on my way to a meeting. I just wanted to settle this before I continued with my day. Enjoy the rest of yours.”

  I melted at his words once again. It had become such a regular occurrence that I’d come to accept it. When he left, I called Michelle right away to inform her of our plans.

  “You better call me with all the details of the evening including his house. I bet it’s tricked out!” she shrieked in sheer enthusiasm.

  The next day, after her visit to the doctor we headed to Victoria’s Secret. I wasn’t all that confident of his intentions but wanted to be prepared seeing that he made it a point to conduct our next date within private quarters. I also kept in mind our steamy encounter at Mahogany. In a moment of honesty, I’d have to admit that I didn’t know if I was ready to take on a sexual affair with Azmir. It was weird, too bizarre to explain. He was so intense and intimidating that I couldn’t see past his dominating persona to imagine a passionate lover. And what if it were horrible? What if we lacked chemistry? I’d just have to wait to feel him out.

  Azmir offered to send a car to pick me up but I was insistent on driving. I wanted to remember how to get to his home for future references. When I arrived, I encountered this huge sky-scrapper that reminded me of the buildings in New York City. There was a wide horseshoe driveway leading to the entrance of the building. I didn’t know where to park my car but saw a doorman. When the gentleman who was dressed in livery approached my car I asked where I could park. He asked me the name of the resident I was visiting.

  When I told him he smiled, “Why, Ms. Brimm, Mr. Jacobs is awaiting you. I’ll have your car valet parked. Follow me and I’ll direct you to the elevator and see you to your destination.”

  The elevator was filled with brass and some reflective material inside and the ride was nice and smooth. There was even soft and relaxing muzak playing, though it didn’t calm my rampant nerves during the ascension. When we arrived at the 11th floor the doorman said, “Ah, here we are, Ms. Brimm. Mr. Jacobs’ door number is 1106.”

  I thanked him and proceeded in the direction of which he pointed. The hallway was better decorated than some of the best hotels I’d ever visited. The crown molding was trimmed in a gold stain and the color on the walls had a suede facade. This was exclusive.

  I knocked on the door and then rang the bell. I couldn’t believe my nervousness. I’d told myself I wouldn’t be on edge. There was no need to be nervous. In little time, Azmir opened the door. He wore a huge sexy grin that was breathtaking. I was winded by his mesmeric presence.

  “Ms. Brimm, you made it.” His voice was filled with an undertone as he extended his arm inviting me in. Breathe, Rayna!

  Snapping myself back into reality, I replied, “Did you expect me to cancel?” as I stepped in.

  “No. It’s just that I’m happy to see you. Can I take your things?” he asked exhibiting manners. I handed him my purse, jacket, and a gift bag with a bottle of wine and a fresh baguette roll. He opened the bag.

  “Merlot?” His furrowed eyebrows didn’t eclipse his hidden smirk. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

  The expression little does he know ran through my mind. I didn’t respond as I was admiring his posh apartment. In complete awe I breathed, “Wow, Azmir.”

  He nodded and smiled gracefully.

  “Do you mind if I take a look around? I’d like to get inspired while I’m still at the point of decorating my new place.” My senses were on overload at the fine art that hung from the broad walls of the high cathedral ceilings, the boastful colors—hues of blue, gray and tan. The floors were black antique bamboo wood that ran long throughout the foyer, living room and the hall leading to the back of the apartment. The motif was like something out of Elegant Residences. It…the elegance, the ambiance, the modishness all spoke of A.D. Jacobs.

  “By all means. I’ll go check on the food before I burn the building down,” Azmir granted and I turned to pace towards the back of the apartment.

  “Damnnnnn!” he sang like a D-boy.

  “What?” I jumped.

  “You look…really…nice.” He eyed my lower torso shaking his head while his eyes danced in delight. I wore a white loosely fit, off the shoulder belly shirt with a pair of fitting high-waist curtail cut jean shorts and sandals. I playfully hissed him away and continued my journey.

  The place was massive! The ceiling was so high and the windows were colossal throughout the entire apartment, I couldn’t decide which room had the better view. The view of the Marina vista was spectacular. His living room had all white furniture including the legs of the coffee table and end tables. It was so contemporary. The white animal fur throw-blanket tossed over the back of the leather sofa was a touch of class. The formal dining room was dark tones trim
med in mahogany wood. The paintings on the walls consisted of colors that masterfully blended with the themes of each room. I counted the number of bedrooms; there were four but five and half bathrooms. As I counted them, I looked for signs of women and children. After all, he said he didn’t have any this would’ve been confirmation.

  There was even an office with wall-to-wall built-in bookcases. The wood of his desk was as rich with antiquity similar to the ones I used to see on television as a child. It was that authentic wood with the age markings from years of wear and tear to prove it. There were two conference chairs in front that sat on a gorgeous Oriental rug. Off to the side was a small meeting desk in the corner, not dissimilar to his offices at the rec center and in Cobalt. There were pieces of décor that I couldn’t reference and others I couldn’t pronounce. All of this was too much for me to take in.

  I made my way to the master bedroom—correction—master suite. When I walked through the door, I was startled by my own reflection in the wall-length mirror that was trimmed in gold. The floor was hardwood and from what I could see off in the distance, a massive, rich, thick cream color rug encompassed the bed that I could only see a portion of from the foyer. I removed my sandals to enter.

  The first entrance off the corridor was to his walk-in closet to my left. The light was on so I walked in and shrieked, “Oh my goodness!” as I clutched my imaginary pearls. My mouth swung open for flies to fill it. His closet was larger than my bedroom. The walls were covered by off-white wooden opened closets and shelves, and in the center of the room were two gigantic oak islands with marble countertops. The drawer fixtures were some fancy design of brass.

  I looked up at the lighting and noticed the chic chandelier hanging centered of the room. There was even a flat screen television facing the padded benches that were draped with shopping bags of various sizes. Someone has recently been on a shopping spree. Everything was anally organized from his suits to his denim to his sweats. His tie rack was on a carousel that spun with an effortless push. It was unbelievable.

  As I walked against the racks of clothes I ran my hand through them until it led me back out into the bedroom from a separate entrance. Once out I gasped for air when I saw, a few feet away, the oversized sleigh bed resting on a pedestal befitting of a king. There were two flat screen TV’s. One television faced his bed while the other was placed in the generously spaced sitting room over a fireplace where I noticed a door leading to the patio with a gorgeous view of the water.

  I willed myself to hurry and leave the bedroom before I chained myself to the damn bed like a mad woman. But before I did I went over to feel the material of his bedding. It was lush, soft, and welcoming. His entire place looked like a show room and his bedroom was just the same.

  I turned to start back out to the living room when I saw Azmir leaning against the wall of the corridor. His disarming eyes stopped me in my tracks. He wore a placid expression. I worried if I had imposed on his privacy by voyaging in his bedroom.

  He sauntered over to me, now entering my personal space and his aromatic body odor sent heat coursing through my veins. Shit!

  “I had to make sure you didn’t lose your way. I asked if you wanted a glass of wine.” Looking down at his hands, I noticed the impressive stemware.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said nervously taking the glass from his hand and taking a sip.

  “Like what you see?” He cocked his head to the side and pushed his tongue against his molars, his tone laced with suggestion again.

  I was flushed. “Errrr…yeah…it’s just that your bed…” Words to try to explain what I was doing touching the man’s bed failed me.

  He inched closer to me. Shit. Is he going to kiss me? Is he going to take me here in his room? Will I let him? I was frozen in place.

  Lowering his head down to my ear he whispered, “You think the view is something, just wait til you’re in between the sheets. It’ll be a far better experience.”

  My mouth dropped open and my breathing hitched. I had suddenly become aware of the puddle in my panties. For the first time in my adult life, wit fled me. I wanted this man so bad but found myself daunted by the prospect.

  “Mmmmmm! Maybe I should have a piece of bread or something while I’m sipping this wine. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starved. I’d hate to have you throwing me out for vomiting all over your carpet and hardwood floors,” I murmured.

  Azmir drew a slow but sensual smile before saying, “I’ll cut you a piece of bread.” He knew he’d had me where he wanted me.

  Following him back towards the kitchen, “…with butter, please!” I requested.

  As I drank my wine and ate my bread, I did so on the private balcony off his massive living room. The wind blew softly yet with such tranquil force. The smell of the ocean reminded me of the scent of my new place. But I was at Azmir’s place. I had to ask myself if I was ready to take it there with him. Hell! You have a thug-mogul cooking you dinner as you mull over giving him a piece of you? Michelle warned me not to leave him without throwing my back into him so that she could live vicariously through me. My body damn sure was ready. But it seemed that at times like this, or after giving up the booty, I discovered the ugly truth in my partner. Azmir was too refreshing a creature to lose what we’d been building.

  We’ll see…my lace thong is strategically placed this evening.

  “You ready, Ms. Brimm?” Azmir called out disrupting my introspection. That meant dinner was ready, I’d hope.

  Azmir prepared spaghetti with Italian sausage, a salad, and the baguette I brought over. It was delicious to say the least. I don’t know if that was because I was hungry or the man had spaghetti-making skills but whatever it was it worked that night. As I apparently ripped through two plates he threw a few joshing remarks my way. I was so hungry that I didn’t even care. I just laughed with a mouth full of food. Ever the lady! The merlot had settled in and once we were done, we went into the living room where Brownstown’s “5 Miles to Empty” was softly playing in the background. I loved that group.

  We sat on the couch drinking and laughing—I laughed, Azmir chuckled. We even played the ‘what’s your favorite’ game. I learned his favorite movie, food, color, songs, artists, and restaurants among other things. I could tell Azmir grew comfortable and easy as the evening progressed. Things had gotten so relaxed that we eventually moved on to spitting our best rap eight bars. I tried to get him to sing and he said I already had him out there; he wouldn’t go that far. We started talking more about our worse dates, particularly about our first times. That led to the two different types of sexual intercourse—making love and smashing, as Azmir put it.

  “See when you smash there’s not much foreplay involved. You just go for what you know…penetration. I know some dudes that use head as the foreplay, but nonetheless smashing takes place,” he informed me. Clearly, the alcohol forced us into a lax space. We were saying things that we wouldn’t have previously, without liquid courage.

  I added, “Speaking from personal experience, when I smash as you put it, I like to start with oral as foreplay, too. The idea is getting yours, right? And you know a man is going to get his, but a woman isn’t guaranteed so I make sure I’m in a position—no pun intended—to get mine.”

  “Really? Hmmmmm…” Azmir pondered over my statement with a ruminative posture. Did I say too much? “So why can’t you get yours during intercourse? Women can have orgasms by way of sex,” he stated facetiously yet with a pensive undertone.

  Damn! I did say too much! I never liked discussing the fact that I’d never climaxed vaginally, it made me feel inexperienced and not in tuned with my body. This wasn’t the impression I wanted to give Azmir. Besides, he wasn’t speaking with transparence like I’d slipped up and done.

  “Yes, some of us do, but that’s just Rayna speaking…you know, from my experience.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, girl?” he asked furrowing his eyebrows. This man was so damn sexy. I was at such a disadvanta
ge there with him that evening.

  “What I mean is that I just disclosed something about me and you’re telling me what some dudes do,” I scolded.

  “So what are you saying?” he asked with a raised brow. His mouth twitched into an alluringly wick grin.

  “What do you consider making love? No. How do you make love?” I laid it out. He paused and smiled timidly. He tried to take a long sip of his cognac buying time. I widened my eyes and motioned my head to urge him to answer.

  “What? You really want me to answer that?”

  “If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked, Jacobs!” I said giving him the ‘don’t B.S. me’ glare.

  After another pause he said, “Alright,” giving a hard and smooth exhale. The smell of brandy on his breath furthered my intoxication and suddenly my breasts felt extremely weighty and constrained in my bra.

  He shrugged, uneasy about the prospect.

  “When I make love…I take my time. I like to look…touch and explore. I try to take in the whole experience because making love for a man like me is extremely rare. A man makes love to a woman he cares about and wants to join in on the experience. When you’re doing it, you don’t rush…you take your time to satisfy all your senses…what you see. What you touch. What you feel. What you hear. I love the sounds of making love,” his voice teetered off reducing to a growl.

  My sex was throbbing between my legs and I secretly feared that Azmir could feel it the way he could that night at Mahogany. “Well, what’s the difference between the sounds of making love and smashing?” I asked.

  “There doesn’t have to be. But when making love, remember you’re taking your time and taking in all of the entire experience. And when you fucking—I mean smashing—you’re rushing to that nut.”