by Xyla Turner
Son of a bitch.
I stepped all the way outside, so no one would hear me screaming or growling at him.
“Xena, I also made myself perfectly clear as well. Did you read my letter yet?”
“No, I haven’t read your stupid letter. Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just leave me alone? This isn’t funny anymore. Okay, you are really starting to scare me.” I said in an exasperated tone.
He sighed, “Read my letter and call me back.”
The line went dead.
URG.
As I ripped open the letter, the guys passed me with smiles on their faces. I had no idea why, but then they must be acquainted with Mr. Aroma. I looked at the neatly typed letter and read:
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Xena, the Warrior Princess. (This name is quite fitting for you)
I am sure at this moment you are tempted to be upset with me because I have disregarded your warnings and brisk behavior. I am not a man that is easily deterred, even with a factitious significant other. I know people that know people, so I have it on good authority, you, my dear, are quite single. This is a non-matter now because I will leave you alone if you accompany me to dinner this evening. I will even give you the address so you can meet me there, if you are indeed uncomfortable with me picking you up. We eat, we drink, and we get to know each other. If and only if WE don’t feel a connection, I will leave you alone. I won’t bother you again and you have my solemn word on that.
Please call me back with your answer. 718-555-5555
X
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Oh boy! Here we go.
I tapped the 718 number again on my phone and called back. He picked up on the first ring again.
“Darling?” he mused.
“Sorry, wrong chick. This is Xena,” I said smartly.
He chuckled, “I know it’s you, street fighter, and though you are quite prickly, you are still a darling.”
“Where are you from? Calling women, darlings?” I replied.
He burst out laughing and then answered with, “I’m from Brooklyn, New York baby, born and raised.”
“I see,” I muttered almost to myself.
“So, have you made a decision?”
“This sounds like blackmail. If I don’t come, you’ll keep bothering me is what you are saying?”
He sighed, “I won’t have a choice. You have consumed my thoughts since I first touched you at the bar. I was hard all night thinking of you and rubbed out a few with still no lasting satisfaction. You invaded my dreams last night and consumed my thoughts all day, so I won’t have a choice, but to ‘bother’ you as you say…” he said this with some agony.
I remained silent.
He rubbed out a few?
I must be the fish in his snares this month. I told myself, he would be over it soon.
“Look, I don’t take kindly to demands, threats, or blackmail. I do not want to have dinner with you and I do not want you bothering me. If you keep this up, I will be forced to take this sort of harassment to another level that I honestly don’t want to do. This just isn’t cool.”
He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped.
“You are funny, baby. You clearly are affected by me, which is precisely why you don’t want to be near me. You are being a coward because you refuse to face what this could be. I never thought…”
I cut him off, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You don’t know me and I don’t care how many people you know that know of me, they clearly don’t because there is nothing cowardly about me. I am simply not interested and you are the one who won’t take no for an answer. So, who is it that can’t take rejection? That would be you, so don’t turn this around on me. I told you that I’m with somebody and you don’t seem to get that.”
“I’m talking directly to you. You can’t even tell me why you won’t try to get to know me. You just won’t, that’s cowardly behavior. So, yes, you are right. I will not take no for an answer, when I know full well, your answer is really yes.”
“Are you deaf? The answer is no, has been no and will remain no,” I said emphatically.
“Tell that to your body” he replied.
What the hell?
He continued, “Tell that to your hard nipples that puckered for me in that little black dress. Tell that to your wet pussy that was screaming for me to ravish it with my hands, my mouth and my hard cock. Tell that to your skin that perspired when I was close and your hair that raised on your neck where my mouth lingered. Tell that to your racing heart when I wrapped my arm around you. Tell that to your body, when you sagged into me, ready for me to do what I dreamed of doing last night.”
I had no words because every body part he just named started doing everything he said, except I sagged into the banister of the stairs instead of his hard body.
He finished, “Tell that to your body.”
I remained silent.
“I’ll text you the address of the restaurant, dress is formal, be there by 7:00 PM.”
I was still silent.
“Oh and Xena, you can test this beast if you want, but I promise I always get my prey.”
The line went dead.
What in the actual fuck?
He had referred to himself as an animal on more than one occasion. I should call the police. So they could laugh at me.
An audible sigh escaped my mouth because the man was not lying. My body reacted to him starting with his aroma, his touch, his gaze, even his presence. It was like he controlled it, by mere will. He was good looking, sexy, commanding and knew what to say out of that erotic mouth. Maybe one day, I might be able to sample the goods. Since I was going to dinner, I had better get myself together.
4 dinner
The exclusive restaurant was in Brooklyn, so I drove there instead of taking an Uber. Purposefully, I arrived around 7:05 PM, to make a point and spent another five minutes parking my car. As I entered the restaurant, the hostess smiled brightly at me and said, “You must be Ms. Fuller.”
I gave her a knowing smile and said, “Yes, that would be me. Am I the only black woman here?”
She laughed, “No, I was shown a picture.”
Son of a bitch.
This man was thorough. I have to step up my game. Well, there lies the problem. I do not have any game.
She walks me to the table where Mr. Aroma, and two other people were sitting. One was an older man and the other was a woman who looked to be my age or a little older. They both were dressed very professionally, so I was glad that I took the time to do my hair in another upward do. But, this time it had my hair bundled up front in an elegant sweep and my earrings were a pair of silver chandeliers. I wore no eye shadow, some lip gloss, a grass green dress that showed off my curves and 4” black, diamond studded heels that displayed my great calves. I saunter to the table, alerting everyone to stand up, but only one of them had fire in his eyes. Mr. Aroma put his hand up in order for me to take it in his, then he kissed my hand letting his lips linger. Well, if I had any hair on my knuckles, they would have been standing straight up, just like he said. The man was dangerous.
Everyone sat down, while Mr. Aroma remained standing, so that I could sit on the inside of the booth, presumably to block my exit. He smelled like his usual luscious self, causing my thoughts to go back to my dream and the alleviation of the ache between my legs from early this morning. That same ache started to develop again, so I made an attempt to concentrate on the other dinner guest.
“Ms. Fuller, this is Mr. Anthony Newell and Ms. Josephine Lewis from Angel Wings. This is Ms. Xena Fuller, the Executive Director of GRIT Charter School in Brooklyn, NY.” Xavier introduced.
They smiled at me, gave me their hands to shake and Ms. Lewis said, “We are so happy to meet you. We have heard so much about you and we wanted to meet with you before we left town, to see if we could pitch our ideas.”
Mr. Newell chimed in and added, “At Angel Wings, we usually provide mo
ney to venture capitalists to expand their business and market their brand. We have been very successful in this business, but we also have expanded our own brand to assist the non-profit entity or the for-profit side of the non-profit entity, especially schools.”
“How do you do that?” I asked intrigued, but also very skeptical.
“Well, we know that you use several programs that have not been replicated, but have been very successful and should be replicated. We also know you have several software programs, systems and structures that if marketed, could be beneficial to the larger educational community. We do that. We compile the statistics, come up with the marketing strategy, and we both make money” Mr. Newell added enthusiastically.
“We also know that you still have your Life Coach practice, which has the social meet up that member’s use that we’d would like to bring to the market as well,” Ms. Lewis added.
Ah, these people have done their homework.
“What does your company get out of this?” I asked showing no emotion.
“We get about 10-15% of the profits, just like our investments with people that come to us, but besides that, we get the bragging rights within the industry to have corned the market in the non-profit and increasingly lucrative educational side, to be frank.” Mr. Newell said.
“I see,” I muttered.
They looked to see what my reaction would be, but then Mr. Aroma touched my forearm that rested on the table and said, “You don’t need to make a decision today, I just wanted them to give you their pitch, before they left for Chicago.”
The hair on my arm stood straight up and he began to rub it down in a soothing, yet, provocative way.
I looked to him and attempted to give him the look that said stop. He either didn’t get my moving eyebrows or chose to ignore me, which I am sure it was the latter. I turned to the two people and said, “I’ll be honest with you. This is something that I have hoped for, but I’d need to talk with my team further, look at the real numbers, predictions and time that needs to be allocated for such an endeavor to see if it would be feasible. As you know, I’m running a school and a practice, so I have little time to dedicate to anything that does not directly impact my job with both of these.”
Mr. Newell smiled, “I completely understand, but want you to know how serious we are. Angel Wings is committed to signing a contract that would guarantee over 2 million dollars for each program, project and system. We are that confident about our tools and we are equally confident about what you are doing.”
“Wow. That does say a lot,” I replied.
Ms. Lewis said, “Well, we won’t take up any more of your time, but thank you for this opportunity and we will talk sometime in the next few weeks.”
They gave me their cards, as I retrieved mine from my purse. They both waved and walked off, leaving me there with Mr. Aroma who was staring at me.
SIGH.
I scooted to the other side of the U-shape booth, so I was facing him. “You brought me out here for a business deal?”
“Why yes, I thought you would be happy about that,” he said in a matter-of-fact attitude.
“So that is why you were insistent that it be tonight?” I responded, “I see now.”
There was a pang of disappointment deep in my gut. Here I thought he was into me, but this was about business. He is a business mogul after all, so if this was to go through, I bet he would want a cut.
He moved towards me quickly, grabbed my hand and pulled me the rest of the way towards him in the small booth. “Oh no. Those people coming were a last minute thing and the only reason I agreed was because I figured you and GRIT could benefit from what they had to offer you. However, whether they came or not, I wanted to see you again since you stormed off on me last night.”
I attempt to slide my hand out of his hand, but he kept a firm grip. “You said, you wouldn’t touch me.”
He looks down at my hand like he forgot he had it, then let me go. Scooting back over to where I was, then I pick up the menu. Wow, the prices in this place were astronomical. I could not afford this on my budget. Salad, bread and water would be dinner tonight.
The waitress came over, smiling brightly at him. He smiled back and said, “I’ll have the steak, medium rare with asparagus and the beets salad. She’ll have the stuffed shrimp with lobster, broccoli and the house salad with light Italian dressing. Imported water with fresh bread for the table.”
Uh, he ordered for me. What?
I could definitely eat that because I liked seafood, broccoli, and light Italian dressing, but the question still remained, how the hell did he know that?
The waitress smiled back at him. When she finished writing down our orders, she lightly touched his hand that was resting on the table. I smiled as this would be my focal point for tonight, to get them hooked up. He looked annoyed at her touch and quickly moved his hand, so she could pick up the menu herself.
Oh, I was going to have fun with this.
He turned to me and I said, “I think you have an admirer.”
“Not the admirer I want,” was his reply.
“Well, things happen for a reason,” I rationed.
He looked at me, like I had two heads. I laughed out loud because things were starting to work in my favor. He moved closer, so that he was in the middle of the U shaped booth and I was on his left side. I did not move anymore because I felt confident that his new admirer would be my buffer. I inwardly grinned to myself. In the famous words of Kevin Hart, “It's about to go down.”
He said, “You look like you’re up to something.”
I cheerily replied, “Why would you think that?”
“Because you have this devilish look in your eye.”
“Nope, just looking forward to my food. How did you know that I like seafood and light Italian dressing? And do not say because I know people. What people do you know, that know my food taste?” I quipped.
He smiled and said, “If I tell you that, then I won’t have the upper hand.”
“Oh, you are one of those control freaks that must be in control,” I quipped.
He openly stared at me, “But you already know this.”
What? Was he speaking in code?
“Uh, what?” I replied.
“You know I like to be in control because you do as well. What you do not know is that in this relationship, you will relinquish control to me and only me,” he replied and began to butter his bread.
What the hell?
This man is nuts.
“First of all, there is no relationship here. Second, I don’t know anything about you, besides you may be certifiably crazy. And third, I will not be relinquishing control to you or anyone else for that matter. You seriously have me confused with those ditzy women that probably hang on your every authoritative word. They let you bite and spank them anywhere you’d like.”
I picked up my butter knife and pointed it at him, “and that, is not me. So, think again, play boy. This dominant routine will not work on me.”
Spreading the butter on my bread, I plastered a fake smile on my face before I took a bite.
He simply replied, “Tell your body that.”
I choked on the bread.
Son of a bitch.
5 We connect
He shut me up with that because I did not want him to continue his rant from earlier about the parts of my body and how they responded to him. He knew he won because he outwardly smiled. Devilish bastard. I too can play. I signaled for the waitress and she quickly came over.
“Just out of curiosity, do you like dominant men?” I asked the smiling woman, then added, “I’m just curious.”
I tried to give her the signal by moving my eyes over to him, but he was staring at me in confusion.
“I love dominant men,” she purred.
“Really, do you like them dominant in bed only or all the time?” I inquired further.
“All the time, a man who knows what he wants, commands and demands me – well, th
at is such a turn on,” she seemed to exhale and kept her eyes on Xavier. Who had his eyes on me, but not in confusion anymore, now they were in retribution. I tipped my glass of water at him before I took a sip, with a smirk on my face, signaling that I won this round.
He raised an eyebrow, addressing the waitress, but still looking at me, “Do you also like ménage à trois?”
I gasped out loud, choking on my water, spraying it all over the table. He quickly moved to hit my back, while the waitress cleaned up the water. As I gained my composure, I stared at him. He smirked and said, “Checkmate.”
Urg.
Our food came, which was good timing because I had nothing else to say. After he spoiled my fun with his devious plot to scandalize me, I was done playing with him. That poor waitress did not need to get into the middle of our nonsense. When she came back to deliver our food, I apologized to her. She nodded her head and said she had heard and seen much worse. I inwardly shook my own head at myself at having been reduced to using people to get back at this ridiculous man.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said.
I stuff food in my mouth and mutter.
“Cat got your tongue?”
I mutter again. Stupid man, I would not play this game with him anymore.
Then he reminds me, “Remember what I said about what bad girls get.”
I finished chewing my food and glare at him, “If you think I care what you said about good and bad girls, you seriously are deranged. I came for my trophy and your promise to leave me alone. That is all I want out of this meeting.”
“That’s all you want?”
“That’s all I want, Mr. Andrews,” adding some formality to prove my point.
He grinned, “Well, what does your body want?”
Urg.
“Leave my body out of this.”
“Oh, so… you admit it. Your body wants me.”
“Shut up already about my body. Enough of this,” I snap.
“Have you really had enough Xena? Why do you insist on playing this game? You know you want me, but you continue to deny your feelings and your body’s pull to have me. Why?”