by Xyla Turner
THE CHASE
XYLA TURNER
COPYRIGHT
AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
237 Flatbush Avenue, #187 Brooklyn, NY 11217
This is an original publication of AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2015 AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
Cover Page by Dynasty Cover Me
Editor: Terri Griffith
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized edits.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1943132011
ISBN-13: 9781943132010
DEDICATION
I dedicate this to every underdog that was counted out.
Anything is possible!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I would like to acknowledge my family and friends who always have my back, no matter what transitions I go through. You guys always encourage me and I will forever be grateful. My co-workers (new and old), who laugh with me about all sorts of craziness on a daily basis. We need to write a book, seriously. Michelle, Deb-O, Mike, Nes, Fed, Kim, and Karen.
I must acknowledge my author friends, those that have encouraged me along the way. Appreciate it more than you know. You will always have a fan! Christina C. Jones, Perri Forrest, S.K. Lessly, Patti Doss and William J - Be sure to check out their work!
Next is my Facebook group the Crusaders #teamXyla. They really helped get my group going, provide daily encouragement and keep me laughing at their commentary and antics. Love you guys!
Last but certainly not least, I will not do anything without acknowledging God. What more can I say? Never leave me nor forsake me, always has my back!
DISCLAIMER
This book contains detailed sex scenes between a man and a woman. Including vaginal and oral. All sex in this book is consensual and pleasurable. The book is not solely based on these few scenes, but on the budding relationship of the characters.
I hope you enjoy!
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Disclaimer
Chapter 1: Mr. Aroma
Chapter 2: Late Night Communication
Chapter 3: Pizza Delivery
Chapter 4: Dinner
Chapter 5: We Connect
Chapter 6: Diamond
Chapter 7: Not Today
Chapter 8: There Will be an “Us”
Chapter 9: Mr. Observant
Chapter 10: This Cat is a Lion
Chapter 11: To His Knees
Chapter 12: Finally
Chapter 13: Not Quite
Chapter 14: She’s Gone
Chapter 15: No Such Luck
Chapter 16: Making Up
Chapter 17: Yes, Daddy
Chapter 18: Meeting the Parents
Chapter 19: Home within a Home
Chapter 20: Tie Myself to You
Chapter 21: The Other Shoe
About the Author
Upcoming Books
Contact Information
1 Mr. Aroma
Lying naked with my back facing Kevin, in post-orgasmic bliss, I knew I would have to break things off with him. He is great in bed, but besides the fact that he lives in my building, that is the extent of our relationship. We have no in-depth conversations about our jobs, we did not talk about our feelings, nor do we cuddle. Always after sex, he will raise up, kiss me on the neck and say ‘until next time’. Kevin is a nice man, but he is not for me. He and I both know that, so we give each other what we need, when it is needed and asked for nothing more. So, I thought.
As I waited for Kevin to do his normal routine, he surprised me by asking, “Are you going to this Gala, tonight?”
Turning over with the sheet tangled between my legs and swathed over my back, I saw him standing next to my little black dress (LBD) that was draped over the dining room chair with the Gala invitation in hand.
“Yeah?” I replied, wondering why he was still her and looking at my stuff.
Kevin cleared his throat, “You know, I can do plus one’s too.”
Oh no, was my first thought. What did he mean by he can do? The card clearly indicated that I and a plus one were invited, but Kevin never came to mind because we just slept with each other.
“Uh,” I uttered, “I already responded saying that I would be the only one in attendance.”
“Ahh,” he smiled, “maybe next time?”
It seemed like he really wanted an answer. “Kevin, what is this?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to let you know that our arrangement could extend to events as well.” He laughed nervously.
“But, we’ve never had that before?”
Kevin walked over to the bed, which in this studio apartment meant he took three steps. Sitting down, he smiled, “Look, Xena, I like you and this is me simply letting you know that I would not mind going out with you to events and also make you scream my name.”
He smiled, then kissed my neck, “Until next time.”
When I heard the door close behind him, my chest untightened and my shoulders relaxed. The last thing I needed was for my sex-buddy relationship to get complicated. At the moment, I need to focus on getting dressed for the Gala because it is tonight. Kevin came about because I saw him in the elevator, on my way back upstairs from gathering the mail. As soon as the elevator doors closed, he pinned me against the wall with my back in his chest so he could lift my dress. Usually, I was the initiator, but today he was in the mood to please. One thing led to another and we ended up in my apartment. He was an excellent lover, who always made sure that I came first and sometimes more than once. One night, I screamed so loud, the neighbors started banging on the walls. Kevin thought that was funny, but he did not have to see the condemning looks from Ms. Ruth across the hall.
There was no desire on my part to attend the 15th Annual Gala for New York Educators. The Gala was a formal affair for educational leaders around the eastern region held to celebrate achievements and raise money. I am the Executive Director of GRIT Charter School in Brooklyn, New York, but I am not sure why I was invited. My school is only two years old, which is not considered a long time to be considered a leader in the field, especially in New York.
The event started at 7:30 PM, but I planned to arrive around 8 PM. The agenda included mingling (it said Networking) from 7:30 – 8 PM, so I planned to skip that part. It was not that I wanted to be fashionably late, but my motto is, ‘sit me down, say what you got to say so I can go back home’. The other thing I do not have patience for is listening to people hype others up in their social circles and throw around educational jargon, ‘because they said it, that makes it true’ types. Being an introvert, I would rather be at home having “me time,” catching up on my TV show Scandal or reading an e-Book.
Another interest of mine, included Kevin’s face buried between my legs. In the past, I have missed many events due to Kevin. Earlier, we did not have the time, so it was a quickie. However, after his statement about doing events, I needed to let him know sooner rather than later that we could not continue with our current setup. The bottom line, is that I want to meet the right guy, but I could not do
this with my current sex buddy taking his place, even if it was just bed space.
The right one for me must to have the following characteristics:
* He must be taller than 5’11
* He must be a non-smoker
* He must only consume alcohol socially or not at all
* He must want children
This very short list seems pretty basic to me, but I rarely receive any relevant hits on eHarmony or MATCH. The concept of online dating is perfect for me because I can be awkward when dealing with people that I do not know face-to-face. My friends think that I can be rude, but it many times I would rather have my solitude. The curse of the introvert. However, I am very nice, but it may take me awhile to warm up to others. Therefore, online dating is ideal for me, or so I thought, but in the past three months, there has been no mutual interest between anyone.
After Kevin left, I rolled out of bed, hopped in the shower to shave my under arms and legs. Then I painted my toenails a bright orange color and gave my fingernails a clear coat. All that was left was to style my hair and put on my LBD. I had allotted two hours to get myself together, until Kevin started stroking me in the elevator. That two hours has now turned into one.
I decided to go with the silver sparkling 4” heels with a peep toe that had a matching clutch. These would bring out the elegance of my LBD, silver tear drop earrings, and silver solid ring on my right index finger. My long, black hair were in a French twist up-do, which spiraled down on the left side of my face. I put on a little makeup, eye shadow, lip gloss, and curled my eye lashes. The golden eye shadow and lip-gloss always tends to make my mocha complexion bright and jovial. I figured if I had to go and put on the charm, I might as well look good in the process. Quickly posting a picture of myself on Facebook, I submitted the request for UBER to pick me up. Driving to Manhattan was one nightmare, that I refused to endure and those 4” heels were not made for walking, so the train was not an option either.
Forty dollars later, the UBER driver delivered me to the Westin Hotel in lower Manhattan. The 25-minute drive could not end fast enough because the driver started to hit on me. To avoid his advances, I put my earpiece to call my friend in Georgia. Unfortunately, as I departed the vehicle, my stride was not flawless as I walk/stumbled my way into the hotel where the gala was taking place. The shoes were cute, but they were stiff and needed to be broken in some more.
Standing in front of the registration table, were two smiling young adults, dressed in formal wear with badges which had their names etched in gold. They were obviously the greeters who were in their early 20;s, eager and ready to make a difference or ready to make contacts. The young man, said, “You must be Ms. Xena Fuller.”
I smiled, “Yes, that’s me.”
I was tempted to say, ‘How did you know because I’m the only black person on the list?’
The young woman must have read my non-verbal thought and said, “There are only a few people who aren’t here yet.”
So, I’m the only black person left on the list?
A smile spread across my face at the thought, then I responded sarcastically. “Yes, did I miss the mingling?”
They both laughed as I took my souvenir coffee cup, the agenda and my badge, which displayed my name and the name of my school. I put my badge on and walked towards the sound of the trumpet playing smooth jazz. The personalized agenda indicated where I was to sit and what people were at my table. I knew none of the names. Per the agenda, the mingling portion should be wrapping up by pretty soon. Seeing I still had a few minutes, I decided to powder my nose since my skin gets oily and that shiny golden, mocha mix under fluorescent lighting is not a good look.
On my way back, I stopped by the bar to get a glass of water. After smiling and making my drink request, the bartender looked at me with a frown. So sorry, I thought, you won’t be able to get me tipsy, so, your tips can get higher. I took a sip of water, then turned around to scope out the scene. Just as I thought, a bunch of pompous people were here to impress their colleagues. I should have had my principal and a few others come with me to serve as buffers because I was not in the mood for small talk.
I did not want to discuss the Common Core, test scores, standardized assessments, the Mayor or School Chancellor of New York. It is what it is, so unless you plan on doing something about it, what is the point of the conversation? I would rather discuss sports than sit around trying to impress each other with how much we know, who we know and not deal with the real issues we can actually do something about.
I still did not see anyone that I knew, but there were a few familiar faces in the crowd. As I completed my scan of the crowd, one person caught my attention. Well, it was because he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, like he knew me and we had an inside joke. I stopped my scan to stare back at him, to see if I knew him from somewhere. Oh boy, he must have taken my look as an invitation to come to me because he put his glass down and headed my way. I quickly swiveled my stool back around to face the bar and signaled for the bartender.
He looked at my half a glass of water still sitting in front of me and gave me a nod that said, “What?”
I smiled, “Can I please have ginger ale?”
His response was worse this time than my request for water. He audibly sighed and looked annoyed.
Now, he was beginning to get on my nerves. I did not have time for this. That is a major pet peeve for me, when people are hired to do a job then get annoyed about the job they are paid to do. If you do not like your job, change, change shifts, do something. Do not take your frustration out on me just because you do not like your job.
Urg.
He sloppily squirted the ginger ale in the tumbler that was already filled with ice, put a napkin in front of me and slammed it down. This caused it to not only slosh, but spilled most of the drink on the counter.
That did it.
My face was molten and felt like a volcano about explode. “Who hired you for this event?”
This question took him off guard. He stammered, “Uh, what?”
I raised my voice, annunciating every word, “WHO HIRED YOU FOR THIS EVENT?”
A hand touched my elbow. Who in the world? Since I did not know anyone here, someone was about to catch Lady Dragon. I spun around and saw the male figure was tall, but that was it, as he suddenly leaned down like he was going to hug me. Starting to move my upper body back so I could get a good look at whoever was in my physical space, I raised my hands to push him away, then I heard a quiet command whispered in my ear.
“Stop.”
What? Who the hell was this?
The man stayed near my ear, causing my whole body to come aware. I was not sure why, but I stopped at his command.
What?
The stranger quietly commanded, “Calm down and take a deep breath.”
The proximity of this man in my personal space stunned me. He whispered in my ear and my God, I swear he had the effect of an aphrodisiac, I wanted him to stay there so I could keep inhaling his aroma. I am officially weird. His cologne was very familiar, but he was no Dr. Kahn, a professor at the University that I worked for right after college. Dr. Kahn was an Indian-American man with mocha skin, dark black hair, a beautiful smile, salt and pepper goatee and he smelled like Issey Miyake every single day. I was in love. The man was literally old enough to be my father, but 1) he did not look it, 2) he had swag – even, for an English professor and 3) that aroma was a weakness for me. The fact is, I like older men, but not more than twelve years my senior. I am 33, but could pass for my mid to late 20’s. Wanting an older, more mature man is really a desire to have someone that knows what he is doing in life, not just in bed. I don’t have daddy issues because my father was good to me and my mother until the day he died of colon cancer. He was present, protective, and provided for his family. I do not want to train, coach, instruct, lead, or manage a grown man. I do that every day at work and I do not intend to do this on my personal time and especially in a romantic relation
ship.
Mr. Aroma was still in my space and close to my ear, but he was not touching me. I could see he had on a black tux, but that was about all I could capture from my view.
He asked, “Are you calm?”
“What do you think, when you are all in my space?” I retorted.
Sweet aroma or not, who the hell did he think he was?
He chuckled.
I put both my palms on his hard chest in an attempt to push him out of my space. He did not expect this, as he went back a little, but quickly grabbed my wrists to hold them against his body. I gasped at his quick capture, then made the mistake of looking in his eyes.
Whoa.
It was not just his aroma, but my God, the man was breathtaking. He was tall, had flawless mocha skin, a sharp faded haircut, with a goatee that fit his mouth perfectly. He had hard eyes, but there was a longing behind them.
He lift one side of his mouth in a smirk. In turn, I raise my eyebrow up at him, “Is something funny?”
He smirked again, raised his eyebrows up at me and replied, “Yes, you – street fighter.” His voice was smooth, but deep and definitely seductive.
I did not know whether to be offended by his term ‘street fighter’ or amused, but since I was already annoyed, I smirked back at him and used my MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) skills by connecting my fingers with each other, making a pyramid shape and lifting them in the center of our bodied, disbanding his hold on me. Little did I know his familiarity with this move because he quickly recaptured my arms, placing them right back where they were.
Hmm.
“Are you calm?” He asked in a softer tone.
“How are you going to ask me if I’m calm, if you have caged me to the bar and bound my hands? You do not know me. Who do you think you are? What you need to –.”
He cut me off and leaned in closer, causing me to back up against the bar, “You were about to make a scene with the bartender and based on the tone of your voice, it suggested that you did not care who heard you. So, I intervened so nobody else would know you were badgering the help.”