Thursdays in Savannah

by Olivia Gaines

  A nicer feeling came over her when the doorbell rang at six twenty and she opened the door to find Jesse standing there with a huge bouquet of flowers. “These are lovely. Thank you.” She let him in and took the arrangement.

  “It smells heavenly in here. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked as he kicked off his boots and grabbed his small bag. “Savannah, is that apple pie I smell?”

  She grinned with pride as she stood at the sink arranging the flowers in the one vase she owned. It too was bought off Craigslist from a woman who was not aware it was Wedgwood crystal. It was one of the few items she had of value.

  “Yes, it is. We also have ice cream, which I plan to gently dust with a bit of cinnamon.” She turned to find him standing in the kitchen entry staring at her as if he was trying hard to balance out his breathing. She gave him a warm smile. Damn he is sexy.

  “Hurry up and wash the day off you. The chicken is almost done, as well as that yummy pie!” But he had not moved. He eyed the dining room table with the chess board set up, the table settings, and her with the vase of flowers. Home. It felt like home. Jesse was uncertain of what he had done right to walk into this woman’s life, but he was here and loving every minute of it. Whoever her fiancé was, fancy diamond ring or not, he was about to uproot his garden. I want to come home to this every day. I want to come home to her.

  Jesse showered quickly and changed into some clean clothing. When she told him that the evening would not be as usual, he headed by a big box store on lunch break to pick up something casual to wear. As he came down the stairs, Savannah was pouring the wine and making his plate. He could not help himself. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Thank you, for all of this. It looks wonderful.”

  She patted him on the chest and urged him to sit. He blessed the food and cut into the chicken. His eyes rolled up in his head when he tasted the perfectly seasoned meat. The apple pie garnered same reaction when he bit into the slice of heaven. She poured them each a cup of decaf coffee and Jesse leaned back in the chair, full as a tick, patting his belly.

  “How were things this week at the lab with your research on mitochondrial oxidase effects on high blood pressure?” He grinned at her with a set of pearly whites that seemed to lighten his face when he asked the question.

  Savannah’s eyes grew wide, impressed that he had remembered, maybe not all of it, but enough to let her know he had heard what she said. “Do you remember the rest of it?” she asked curiously.

  “Of course,” he said as he sipped his coffee. “It was the effects of high blood pressure on African Americans followed by some big fancy science word, and blah, blah, blah, blah, and blah blah.” He started to laugh, along with Savannah. Funny.

  She told him about her week then asked about his. Jesse was very careful in his word choice, which prompted her next question to him, “Are you single?”

  “The only woman I am currently seeing or being intimate with is you.” The words hung in the air like a sour ball of gas, but Savannah would not walk into the stink. Jesse took the cue and rose to clear the table while watching Savannah portion out the leftover chicken. Thin slices were cut from the breast meat and placed into a container. The dark meat portions were thrown into a food processor, leaving the wings and broth as a base for soup. Jesse had never seen anyone so efficient.

  “I let nothing go to waste,” she stated matter-of-factly. Savannah left that hanging in the air along with his statement. “Let’s play some chess.”

  By 9 pm, her brain was cramped. They played three games. Jesse won two. He asked again about the guy in the parking garage. She explained once more that they never dated and only had a few classes together in college, but there was never anything between them.

  “Is your fiancé also a black man?”

  Savannah was shocked by the forthrightness of his question. “Yes, he is.” Quickly changing the subject to her surprise of the evening, she put on the kettle and brought out her Dr. Scholl’s foot bath. Jesse eyed the contraption as if it were a medieval torture device. “Just what exactly are you planning to do with that?” he asked, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

  “I am planning to use this on your feet.” A simple explanation was given as she removed his socks and rolled up the legs of his lounge pants before placing each calloused foot into the soak. She poured cold water from the sink into the soaker followed by hot water from the kettle. Similar to the way Vietnamese women performed the ritual in the pedicure shops, she scaled off the years of rough skin that had formed on his feet from wearing closed in shoes all year. Then she used her electric file to smooth down the big toe nails that had gotten hard and clumped from rubbing against the steel in the toe of his boots. Savannah massaged his soles and applied a tingling mint foot cream before she bagged up the newspapers containing the clippings and dead skin. Finally, she dumped the foot soak water down the toilet.

  “Feels pretty good, doesn’t it,” she asked when she returned to find him rubbing his feet.

  She expected a nice thank you and maybe some making out but instead, again, he hit her with a weird direct question. “Do you do this for him, too?”

  “No, he has it done at his male grooming salon.” She twiddled her thumbs then looked at the clock.

  Jesse stood slowly, extending his arms to reach out to her. “This past month with you has been a truly eye-opening experience for me. I have never felt so cared for and I’m not sure what to say or how to handle all of this Savannah.”

  In truth, she had no idea what she was doing either. Jesse was only the fourth man in her entire romantic life. Never had she experienced such intense chemistry with another human, nor had she ever been so sexually free.

  Their lovemaking was noisy.

  It was sloppy.

  It was unordered.

  It was fantastic.

  Even tonight, as they were unable to couple, he held her close in the dark with his need poking her in the back.

  If felt like a slice of chocolate cake on the day she started her diet. She could look at it, but not enjoy it, not in the way she wanted to. “Do I need to help you with that?”

  It took him a moment to understand her question. “No. I seem to always be in this state when I am around you. It’ll go down.” Hell, lately even if he wasn’t around her, he was still in this state. Jesse chuckled as he went into a bit more about his week.

  “Last weekend I was fishing with my dad,” he started as the darkened room filled with the sound of even breathing and his voice. His hand rested loosely on her hip, his leg intertwined with hers, holding her body close to him.

  “I cast my line into the river, almost entranced by the bobbin floating on the water, just thinking I know how that bobbin feels, drifting on the currents.” He kissed her shoulder as he pulled her closer to him, the back of her thighs resting against his. “I started thinking about how good it felt dangling my pole over the water, then I thought about another spot where I love to dangle my pole....” His words wandered off into the darkness of the room.

  “Then, I got a bite. I jumped up so excited, trying to reel in my catch and completely unaware of my state....” He paused for a minute. “My dad, who missed his calling as a comedian, told me, Son, why are you so excited, it ain’t even that big of a catch!” He could feel the shudders of Savannah’s body as she laughed quietly in the dark.

  Jesse kissed her shoulder as his hand ran down her hip, settling on her thigh and eventually ending on her lower abdomen. “I ignored him, because he has no real idea how lucky I am to have made this catch.”

  Goose pimples formed on her arms at his words, her response given in a lowered tone. “We are both lucky.”

  Jesse surprised Savannah the next morning by making her breakfast and serving it to her in bed. While he showered, she packed their lunches and ironed her clothing for work. She kissed him goodbye, bidding him a good day as he stood in the doorway looking back at her, his face adorned with his usual Friday morning quizzical
gaze.

  Savannah asked, “Is everything okay, Jesse?”

  “Yes, it is. Thank you for a wonderful evening. You have the number.” Then he was gone.

  During the course of the day as he traveled from site to site checking on construction projects, he found his stomach grumbling. Several of the workers had taken a break for lunch on the side of the new building and Jesse joined them with his brown bag. This was something new for him since he rarely, if ever, brought a lunch, but it was also an ideal time to connect with his new crew.

  Several years ago he had been engaged to an enchanting woman with really large breasts and a moderate ability to reason. The relationship failed because he couldn’t talk to her. They had very little in common even though she was from a construction family. As much as he tried to explain what it was he did for a living, the hours he worked, and the irregularity of his schedule, she had never once packed him a lunch. Fast forward to his current status. His schedule was far more flexible, his pay so much better, and he could have whatever he wanted for lunch, any day of the week. He was excited to join the crew and open his lunch sack, just to see what Savannah had packed for him to eat today.

  The guys watched him as well as he removed two roasted chicken breast sandwiches on whole wheat, a bag of mini carrots with a small container of ranch dressing for dipping, along with a zip lock bag of white seedless grapes and another zippy bag with whole almonds. Healthy. In his world, little containers and zipped plastic bags meant you belonged to someone—a someone who took care to ensure you ate right.

  He looked into the bag again and he literarily poked out his lip. There was no apple pie! His phone chimed as he looked down and saw the message.

  What a woman! Whoever the stupid bastard was that had allowed him to creep into his flower bed was in for a world of trouble. Jesse was considering becoming that troublesome weed that would take root and infest everything. He was in. It was going to be difficult to get him out.

  Chapter Nine

  April

  Savannah was freaking out a bit about the engagement party on the fifteenth. There was so much to do. Her arms needed more toning, five pounds had to be dropped, a new hairstyle was a must, and, of course, make up. The latter was something she seldom wore or had little use for, but understood it was required for a polished look.

  On a Monday evening after Zumba class, she sat in the Smoothie King on 28th with her friends Sheryl and Traci. They were lying to each other about their weight loss plans. If intention could move the world forward, she would be a size six instead of a ten, but she was healthy. Savannah was five feet seven and 130 pounds with a natural hairstyle. She was grateful that her grandmother was a Choctaw Indian, which gave her long thick locks of shiny black hair. The texture of her hair and features had been passed down from her Grammy. Unfortunately, a low tolerance for alcohol was included in that genetic pool, but overall she considered herself to be somewhat attractive. Unlike many of her friends, she was not one of those women who harped on her looks.

  Men often stared at her, but that meant very little to a woman of science. Science nerds flirted often by waving or wagging their big dictionaries to impress the academic side of the big brain she carried, but the woman in her was coming to life. Of the four men who had passed through what she attempted to call a romantic life, Jesse was the only one who sparked the sexual side of her. In the garage on that first night, the attraction between the two of them was undeniable. Helping with his bleeding nose and seeing all of those muscles uncovered made her want him with a fierceness she had never known. It was never her style to be wanton, but each time he entered her, she climaxed. Whether it was a short interaction or something more time consuming, she came like one of Pavlov’s dogs at the ring of a bell. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong, but after she got married, good sex would be out the window. The getting was good and she was going to get all she could.

  Her phone chimed and she looked down to see the caller I.D. read, “Tool Boy.” She answered on the third ring. “This is Savannah.”

  Jesse’s smooth timbered voice resonated through the phone. “I want to see you.”

  “We have an appointment on Thursday, if I am not mistaken,” she said into the phone as Traci and Sheryl took note of the conversation.

  “What if I don’t want to wait that long?” he asked.

  “Thursday at six is the scheduled appointment. If something changes and you can’t make it at that time, please let me know.” She was smiling when she added the last bit, “You have the number.” Savannah hung up on him. Damn, that felt good. She felt powerful and was smiling like a fool.

  Traci, who was always rather inquisitive, scratch that, she was plain nosey, asked, “Who was that, the hairstylist?”

  Savannah was never one to tell lies. Yes, she could live one, but not tell one. So she decided to be honest. “That was my maintenance man.”

  Both friends nodded as if they understood. Savannah was hit with an idea. She sent him a text.

  On Tuesday she joined Darwin and his coworkers for drinks after hours at a bar on Highland Avenue. She wore a fitted black dress, a splash of color around her neck that matched her shoes, and carried a clutch bag. Her hair was up, with loose tendrils framing her face. She even had on a dab of lip gloss. As an extra measure, she added some mascara to her already long lashes, which made her feel pretty. Everyone at the bar agreed. Darwin looked at her with new eyes.

  “Savannah, you are absolutely glowing. You look amazing,” he told her as he showed her an unusual amount of public affection. She worked the room, mingled with the other wives, and passed out compliments as well as thanked those who lavished compliments upon her. It was a pleasant evening.

  Darwin seemed anxious to get her back to his place. Still seated in her newfound power, she played with it a bit. “Quite honestly dear, I truly hate your bed. We will need to go mattress shopping to get something we both can agree upon.” She kissed him passionately, left him in need, and climbed into her car headed home.

  On Wednesday, she was headed to the mall, but decided instead to venture into a Lingerie Shoppe on Montevallo Avenue, which was nice for her wardrobe for Darwin, but not quite what she needed for tomorrow night. A sly smile crept its way across her face as the naughty side of her began to imagine his reaction to an outfit she had always wanted, but had never been daring enough to purchase. Daring is my middle name. What she needed for her next encounter with Jesse was something nasty.

  She knew where to go.

  Chapter Ten

  Savannah set the table for dinner, checked on the pork chops and headed for the shower. At six on the dot, she heard the front door open and heard the clank of the toolbox hitting the floor. Her body reacted to knowing he was inside the condo and soon he was going to be inside of her. Her mouth wasn’t the only thing salivating.

  She approached him with slow deliberate steps as she planted her feet with a wide stance and gave him a full view of her new outfit. As he unlaced his boots, looking up at her slowly, noticing immediately the patch of hair that extended from the lack of a crotch in the lacy lavender silk panties. Jesse closed his eyes as he inhaled the intoxicating nectar of her readiness for him. His eyes slowly wandered up her torso to the laced sides of the bra that appeared to be missing the cups. Savannah’s erect nipples protruded from the fabric. Jesse’s rough, calloused hands traveled up her thighs until he stood upright, facing her with his senses on overload and his need to be with her straining against the fabric of his pants.

  “Damn,” he said as he reached for her. Savannah jumped back, almost recoiling from his touch, which shocked him.

  “Every time you say that, I end up either supine or in an impaled positioned becoming enervated after being contorted into some form of a coital pretzel.”

  Jesse’s hands went to his hips. Each word she said caused his head to cock a bit more to the right, finally ending at a 45-degree angle. He appeared to be listening carefully while seeking understanding of the ex
planation of the Affordable Care Act. He repeated her words out loud, “supine ... enervate ... coital pretzel ...” followed by a gigantic smile on his sexy lips.

  Savannah’s hands flew to her hips as well. “It means ...” Jesse cut her off.

  “I know what the words mean. I went to college, twice, and graduated both times. You have some vocabulary on you there, my lovely.” He continued to talk as he loosened his belt and removed his pants, placing them on top of his toolbox. His arousal was evident and Savannah was fidgeting in her eagerness to have him inside of her.

  “I’m sorry, I meant no offense,” she said as she reached for him, but he held up his hands, indicating he needed to wash the dirt from them before he touched her again.

  “None taken,” he told her. “Keep in mind that I work with men whose vernacular is laced with innuendos and limited to finding new synonyms for the word vagina.”

  “Will you share the funniest one you ever heard?”

  His laughter rang out from the bathroom, “Soft shelled tuna taco.” He burst into laughter, which echoed through the apartment.

  Savannah started to laugh as he took care of his quick cleanup, returning to remove a condom from his overnight bag.