by A. C. Arthur
“Thanksgiving is Thursday.”
“I know.” Reka waved a hand. “Don’t even start talking about it. Grammy’s talking about going out to shoot her own turkey and my mother’s claiming she doesn’t eat pork all of a sudden. Shopping for food is going to be a task this year.”
“Oh. You’re cooking dinner?”
He sounded disappointed. “I usually do the cooking for me, Mama and Grammy. We have our little meal, and then we sit and watch movies for the rest of the day. How does your family celebrate the holiday?”
“That’s kind of what I was going to ask you. I wanted you to spend Thanksgiving with me at my parents’ house.”
Reka’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Your parents? The ones that live in Greenwich?”
Khalil chuckled. “I only have one set of parents, Reka. But it’s cool if you already have plans. Maybe I’ll come by here for dessert.”
“She don’t have no plans. She’ll be happy to go meet your parents.” The crotchety voice came from the direction of the stairs, signaling Grammy’s entrance.
Khalil immediately stood, going to help Grammy down the remaining stairs. “Hi, Grammy. How are you this evening?”
“I’m just fine, handsome, just fine indeed. Now you don’t pay my grandbaby no mind.” Grammy continued to talk as Khalil helped her into another chair. “You go on and meet his parents, chile. It’ll be fun.”
Khalil returned to his seat beside Reka. Reka cut Grammy an evil glare that the old woman paid no attention to. “Then what are you and Mama going to eat? She can’t cook, and you’d probably burn my house down.”
Grammy rolled her eyes and tucked a wayward strand of gray streaked hair behind her ear. “I’m the one that taught you how to cook, young lady. Plus, I might go down to Sunny Days.”
“You’re going home?” Reka sounded hopeful.
“That ain’t my home. But this fella, Cletus, he called me yesterday, said they were having a bingo marathon on Thursday after that tasteless holiday meal they serve.” Grammy crossed her heavy ankles and sat back in the chair, patting her hands together. “Cletus knows how I love me some bingo.”
Khalil suspected Grammy also loved her some Cletus. “So are you gonna come?”
Reka readily admitted to herself that she was nervous. Meeting Khalil’s parents, the people that brought him into this world, the rich folk that he’d been raised by, was something she hadn’t thought about. But he looked so hopeful, how could she turn him down? “Sure, I’ll go.”
The telephone rang, effectively ending that conversation and Reka thankfully got up to answer it.
“Listen, handsome.” Grammy leaned over towards Khalil and whispered, “You’re moving way too slow. Now the gifts are a good touch ’cause ain’t no man ever bought her stuff like that before. But it’s time you put forth a little more effort to woo my grandbaby.”
Intrigued by the woman’s candor, Khalil leaned over to hear her better. “What do you suggest, Grammy?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, those wine-colored eyes focused on him. “I suggest you and her get busy.”
Khalil’s widened with her words. “Come again?”
“You heard me. Mount her, put that old-fashioned whip appeal on her. That’s how you keep a woman like Reka. She’s a good girl, she’s smart and she has plans for her life. But God bless her soul, she’s just like me and her momma. We needs some good lovin’ and we needs it all the time.”
Khalil couldn’t contain his laughter a moment longer and only ceased when Grammy smacked him on the knee. “Now stop that foolishness. You take her to meet your parents Thursday, and then you take her back to your place and you lay it on her. I guarantee it’ll do you both some good.”
“You guarantee, huh?” Khalil didn’t know whether to take Grammy seriously or to remind himself that she was an aging old woman. Either way, her idea had some merit to it.
“Grammy, Cletus is on the phone for you,” Reka announced.
Grammy struggled to get out of the deep cushioned chair. Khalil rose to help her. “See, Cletus got a taste of my good lovin’ and that’s why he keeps a-callin’. Take my advice, handsome, and make your move.”
Khalil stared at her questioningly as she wobbled to the other end of the room to answer the phone.
“What was she rambling about?” Reka asked.
He turned to her, looked at those luscious lips and that curvy little body, and felt all the blood in his body rush immediately to his groin. “Oh, nothing,” he lied even as he hurried to take his seat again before she saw his arousal.
He was going to have to give Grammy’s words some serious thought.
* * *
To: [email protected]
From: Jack
Subject: The Naughty and Nice Collection
I’ve finally hit the jackpot! Jill was just as sweet as I’d thought. Forget the Tantalizing Thong Collection, it’s all thanks to the Long Lasting Lickin’ Lingerie. Kudos to the firm for offering Sensuality, Inc. all that good advice.
I’ve made it past first base and I owe it all to you!
If anybody needs some pointers, please don’t hesitate to contact me!
Jack
At 10:45 a.m. the email hit every computer at Page & Associates. At 11:00 a.m. Khalil was reading it for the third time. He was having zero luck tracing this guy, and that frustrated him. Not only that, his mother had called and left a message about Thanksgiving dinner and the possibility of him inviting Sonya. Add that to the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was getting to Reka or not, and he was more than frustrated.
His mind reeled with computer code, interfering family and a woman who drove him mad with desire. No wonder he hadn’t yet found out who Jack was. There was just too much other stuff going on in his mind. His temples throbbed as he downed the last drops of his now-cold coffee. Rubbing his eyes one more time, he resigned himself to the job at hand. He needed to find out who was sending these emails, and he needed to do it quickly. Once he had that part figured out—once Reka or one of her friends was excluded from the list of suspects—he could move forward. Keith would have someone to prosecute and he could concentrate all his attention on Reka. Maybe even take Grammy’s advice.
That advice had been uppermost in his mind since last night, and coming in the office this morning to a message hinting at Jack’s oral pleasure was not helping. As he read the message for the fifth time, he found himself growing more irritated.
A brief knock on his door almost had him yelling for whoever was on the other side to go away. Instead he took a deep, steadying breath and answered gruffly, “Come in.”
“Good morning. I thought I’d bring you another cup of coffee.”
Khalil looked up to see Tyrese, her long blond-streaked hair hanging well past her shoulders. Her facial features, inherited from the Caucasian side of her family, were more prominent as she smiled. “Ah, thanks, Tyrese. You really didn’t have to do that.” And that was the truth. Since she was the firm’s accountant, there was really no reason why she should be bringing him coffee.
Tyrese took a seat and crossed her legs. “It was no problem. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
His brows raised in question, Khalil slid the cup of hot coffee out of his immediate reach. When he worked he had a tendency to push his keyboard around and he didn’t want the task of cleaning spilled coffee to be added to his already stressful day. “What did you want to talk to me about?” He focused on her instead of what he really wanted to be concentrating on—that message from Jack. She was a pretty enough woman, a little too conceited for his tastes. Although she was attractive, her heavy breasts were clearly meant for a thicker person and made her slim build a bit awkward. He had noticed that her blouses were always left unbuttoned, displaying a good amount of cleavage. That was probably meant to turn somebody on, but it wasn’t him.
“I noticed you stay to yourself a lot, and was wondering why.”
He shrugged. “I was hired to do
a job, that’s what I’m doing.”
A slender hand lifted, rested at the hollow of her neck, then slipped down the opening in her blouse. “Did you read this morning’s message?”
Khalil didn’t miss the gesture, but kept his eyes carefully trained on hers. “Yes. That’s what I was working on before you came in.”
“Really?” Tyrese licked her lips. “So what do you think? I’ve got to tell you I’m tempted to head over to Sak’s and pick me up a couple pieces from that Long Lasting Lickin’ Lingerie. What colors do you think would look good with my complexion?” With a flick of her wrist, the next button came undone, revealing her black lace bra.
Suddenly his little office was ten times smaller. Khalil took a deep, steadying breath. After all, he was a man. Creamy, ivory-toned mounds scarcely covered by black lace were there for his perusal. Was there anything more sexy than black lace?
“I think that Jack is losing sight of the fact that this is an office and that his messages are more than inappropriate here.”
Uncrossing her legs, Tyrese let them gap a little, just enough to provide a hint of what was beneath her skirt. The tip of a finger traced one puckered nipple just before she stood and moved around his desk.
Khalil turned in his seat, shifting so that his arousal wouldn’t be apparent, but now facing her as she came closer.
“And what about the rest?? What color do you think would look good on me? On these?”
Her blouse came completely open, her heavy breasts jutting towards his face. If he but sat up, leaned forward and opened his mouth, she’d gladly breastfeed him. Khalil’s mouth watered. Then his eyes went to her face again and he realized it wasn’t the face of the person whose breasts he’d like to feed from. She looked down at him with clear implications, her hands lifting the globes for him to indulge. Abruptly he stood, grabbing the ends of her blouse and pulling them closed.
“Tyrese, I don’t have to tell you how inappropriate your behavior is, do I?” He spoke sternly as he pushed her back and out of his way, moving towards the door. “Cienna has a stiff policy about sexual harassment. Do I need to file a report?”
Tyrese frowned as she hastily buttoned her shirt. “No!” she almost shouted at him. “You don’t have to file a report. Although I would suggest seeing a doctor for your obvious ailment.” With her clothes back to normal Tyrese approached him at the door, standing toe to toe with him, still flaunting her goodies.
“I don’t have an ailment. But I’m wondering if you don’t have some issues of your own.”
Tyrese smiled, moved in a little closer until just the tip of her breasts rubbed against his chest. He could tell Cienna whatever he liked. She wasn’t staying at this dead end job too much longer, anyway. She was being paid well to deliver information, and she’d be out of here soon enough. With a long red painted fingernail, she traced the line of his jaw, heard the crackle of his light beard beneath her ministrations. “I don’t have any issues that can’t be resolved by a real man. It’s not my fault if you’re not what I thought you were.” Licking her lips again, she let her nail linger just beside his mouth. “But it is a pity.”
Repulsed by such a blatant come-on, Khalil grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face, then opened his office door and forcibly pushed her out. “Don’t make the mistake again,” he growled. She’d just lost all his respect.
* * *
Reka had seen the message and talked to Tacoma for about twenty minutes about it. Walking from the copy room back to her office, she found herself still thinking about it. She didn’t consider herself a freak, sexually uninhibited maybe, but not a freak. And normally erotic words or insinuations had little effect on her, but this morning as she’d re-read the message for the second time in her own office, she’d felt the telltale tightening in her lower belly and had to squeeze her thighs together tightly to keep from wanting to pleasure herself.
It was crazy, she knew, and most likely due to all the kissing and rubbing she and Khalil had done last night on her couch. Lord, she didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to stand him stopping their progress just as it was getting good. Last night she’d taken a lukewarm shower—’cause that cold water was for the birds—and rubbed her tightened clit until a release of some sort had taken over.
In the morning, however, she realized that Khalil was being just what he’d told her he was: a good man. He desired her, she was sure of that point, but he wouldn’t push things. It dawned on her then that she wanted so much more beyond the physical with Khalil. Something that she had been afraid to ever want from a man. She’d been through enough relationships, enough heartache, enough disappointments in her life to know that wishing didn’t always make your dreams come true. But with Khalil there was hope.
She wore a long flowing skirt this morning with a button up blouse and matching vest. So while she stood at the copier thinking of Khalil, and not Jack’s message referring to Jill’s sweetness, feelings beyond the physical need for him began to take root and she shivered at their intensity. She looked at her watch. It was 11:45. In another fifteen minutes she’d take her lunch break. She’d go outside and partake of the crisp fall air and attempt to clear her mind. Now, more than ever, she needed to focus where Khalil was concerned.
She’d just passed Conference Room C, the smallest one on this floor and the one usually used for storing closed files instead of actual meetings because of its size, when something akin to a moan echoed in her ears. For a minute she thought she’d actually moaned aloud. She looked around to make sure nobody had seen her. But this part of the office was deserted as the attorneys and their assistants were lined on the opposite side. Just as she took another step, the moan sounded again.
Now she knew it wasn’t her this time. She stopped, looked around again and saw nothing. When she backtracked a few steps, the moaning increased in volume and in speed. On impulse she leaned an ear against the conference room door.
“Yes, baby. Bite my nipples. Oh yes!” she heard a male voice say.
The moaning increased and Reka flattened her ear completely against the door. She wished she had a glass or something to improve the sound. But when she heard the next voice she was glad she didn’t.
“Yeah, suck it harder. That’s right, just like that.”
She had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming. It was Tacoma! He was in that conference room with somebody telling them to suck it harder. She’d know his voice anywhere. She wanted to turn that knob and barge in there. She liked Terry, and they were planning a wedding. No way was Tacoma in there cheating on his fiancé.
“Mmmmm, Terry. Terry. Terry,” Tacoma chanted.
Reka’s anger turned to giggles as she clamped her hand down even tighter over her mouth. Lord have mercy, Tacoma and Terry were getting it on in the conference room. Out of respect for her friend and because, quite frankly, she didn’t think she could stand hearing any more from the two of them, she eased away from the door and hurried back to her office.
When her office door was securely closed behind her, she quickly picked up the phone and paged into that conference room. It beeped several times. Then she hung up and did it again. Tacoma still didn’t pick up.
“So he wants to play like he’s not in there. Okay, I’ve got something for his ass.” Reka beeped into the office again, but this time she spoke into the receiver, knowing that the phone system they had would instantly switch into intercom mode and her voice could be heard throughout the room. “I know you’re in there and if you value your job, you’ll finish up quickly and take the rest of the day off.”
She heard their gasps, then the shuffling of the phone as Tacoma finally picked up.
“Reka?”
“You’re damned lucky it is me, fool! What are you thinking? You know you can get fired for what you’re doing!” she screamed at him.
Out of breath and sweating, Tacoma tried to speak. “I know. I know. But girl, that message got me all worked up. I just had to call Terry.�
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“And invite him down to the office for a quickie. That is sick and dangerous, Tacoma. Now I suggest you and Terry fumigate that conference room and get the hell out of there before somebody catches you.”
In the background she heard Terry’s voice. “Yeah. Yeah. Tell him I said hi. I can’t believe you two.” She shook her head and hung up the phone.
Shaking her head, she reached for the folder that held the list of suggested models for Sensuality, Inc.’s launch party on Saturday. She’d been working on it since last week and had most of the women’s ages confirmed. She’d have to be at the event on Saturday and for a moment wondered if she should ask Khalil to be her escort.
That’s all it took, that one work-related thought of him. Coming on the heels of Tacoma’s sexual escapade, the thought of Khalil had her nipples tightening again. She’d never craved a man like this before in her life. Was it because he incited something in her mentally as well? Whatever the case, he was on her mind more and more lately.
It must have been mental telepathy because not two seconds after she had the thought Khalil knocked and entered her office, closing the door behind him.
12
“Good morning,” Reka mumbled. Khalil looked different this morning. His dark suit and brooding expression made him look almost sinister. His light skin seemed flushed and she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch as he approached the desk.
“Is it a good morning, Reka?”
Even his voice sounded different, rough, as if he’d just awakened. “Are you upset about the email? Everybody’s talking about it. You wouldn’t believe what I just witnessed a few minutes ago.” She was babbling, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. He was different, and that difference alarmed her.
“No. I can’t seem to keep my mind on that email, or work, or anything else for that matter,” he admitted before taking a seat across from her.