Chapter 8
Raul woke up the following morning with a smile on his handsome face. He’d had a hell of a time getting to sleep last night. After leaving Mercedes’ room, he took a long, cold shower, rubbing one out while he was in there. When he came, the image of Mercedes’ face appeared. Her head was thrown back, her lips were slightly parted, and silently screaming as her orgasm washed over her, came to mind. It was an image he’d never forget as long as he lived. He hadn’t had any intentions of going that far with her last night, but watching her be so uninhibited on stage made his dick rock hard. He would never consider himself a jealous lover, but seeing her dancing nearly nude as men and women watched with rapt attention made him want to claim her for his own. He wanted to feel her and share something with her that no one in the audience would be able to share. But, he stopped before fully possessing her. He wanted to make sure the first time they had sex it wasn’t because she was hopped up on adrenaline from performing. He wanted to have her with a clear head.
The audience may have the ability to see her beautiful body on stage, but he wanted her more than the Black Dahlia. He wanted to get to know Mercedes, beyond the stage presence. Today he was taking her to a place he went to whenever he had time while visiting the city. After getting up, showering and dressing in a pair of loose fitting jeans and a dark Polo short-sleeve shirt he ordered breakfast for him and Mercedes. Next he knocked on the door that separated their room, checking to see if she was awake.
“Good morning,” Mercedes smiled as she opened the door. She was dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a white V-neck. Raul had a difficult time not allowing his eyes to trail down her smooth as silk skin and gawk at her cleavage.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear. This okay?” she asked.
“It’s perfect. I ordered breakfast. It should be here in another fifteen minutes. Then we can eat and head out.”
“Breakfast? We can’t eat on the way to wherever we’re going? Which, you still haven’t told me exactly where that is, by the way,” Mercedes eyed him suspiciously, with her hand on her hip.
Raul found himself amused at the intimidating posture she tried to take, but didn’t let it show.
“It’s a surprise,” he said placing a quick kiss on her cheek, unable to resist touching her any longer, “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to kidnap you or anything, and I’ll have you back long before your performance tonight,” he said winking at her.
A knock at the door halted Mercedes’ response. “Come in. That’s probably breakfast. They’re early today. We’ll eat then go.”
After Raul checked room service attendant’s credentials and the food, he allowed him in the room to set up the table. The pair ate breakfast in Raul’s room, making small talk. Thirty minutes later the two were heading out of the door. Raul steered Mercedes to the subway.
“Where we’re going is only a few stops away.” Mercedes shrugged and didn’t move away when he encircled her waist with his arm and guided her down the subway steps.
“So you’re still not telling me where we’re going, huh?” She questioned again.
Raul smiled, “That would spoil the surprise, Querida. How did you sleep?” he asked steering the conversation away from where they were going.
Mercedes’ lips spread into a dreamy smile, remembering her blissful sleep and what transpired right before she fell asleep. I slept like a baby,” she purred, opting to leave out the part where she dreamt about the feel of his lips on her, hard muscles covered in gold colored skin, and the sexiest smile she’d ever seen on a man.
“Good,” he smiled down at her placing a kiss just beneath her ear. “This is us,” Raul said grabbing Mercedes hand, doing his best to ignore the small jolt of electricity that shot through him at the contact. He pulled her off the subway and up the subway stairs to keep her close to him in the crowd of exiting passengers. Though they were making a social visit, he never forgot for one second that he was with her because someone was stalking her. Mercedes’ safety was always in the forefront of his mind.
“It’s just a block up ahead,” he said, as they emerged from the subway underground. Mercedes strained to look ahead, trying to gain some sort of insight into where they were going. When they finally arrived Raul saw the left side of Mercedes’ luscious lips kick up into a half smile.
“Seriously?” she asked, excitedly. They stood under a large sign that read “Arte Capoeira” in bold black letters with images of the Brazilian flag around it.
“My cousin, Francisco grew up here in New York, and opened this studio about five years ago. I come whenever I’m in the city and have time,” he said answering Mercedes’ question. Usually, the studio was closed on Sundays, but Raul new Francisco routinely invited a few of his students and friends to the studio on Sunday mornings just to enjoy a light practice. Raul had been to more than a few of these sessions and wanted to bring Mercedes with him. Just as Raul went to press the buzzer to be let in, the door flew open.
“Primo! I thought that was you,” Francisco’s voice boomed as he pulled Raul into a bear hug.
“I didn’t know you were in the city,” Francisco said, as he let Raul go.
Raul stepped back, “It’s only for a short trip,” he pulled Mercedes to his side.
“Primo, this is a friend of mine. She’s interested in Capoeira, and I thought she could sit in on today’s session.”
Francisco’s hazel eyes widened as he noticed Mercedes standing at Raul’s side. “A friend, huh?” he asked grabbing Mercedes’ hand and pressing his lips to it for a kiss.
“Any friend of Raul’s is a friend of mine,” he winked at Mercedes as she smiled brightly.
“I see flirting runs in the family.” Both men laughed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Francisco.”
Francisco gave Mercedes another seductive grin. “Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Minha linda,” At this, Raul felt his jealousy grow at the flirtatious tone of Francisco’s voice.
“Can we come in?” he asked a little more forceful than he intended. Francisco blinked as if remembering Raul’s presence.
“Come. Come in. The others will be here shortly,” he said waving them in and up the stairs to the large room where they would practice.
While the trio talked, Raul explained to Mercedes it was usually only five to ten people who showed up on Sundays to practice and hang out. Usually they all would go to lunch at a nearby Brazilian restaurant afterwards. They often practiced for a minimum of two hours or so, working up a good sweat and appetite. Raul told her, they didn’t have to stay the whole time if she didn’t want, or go for lunch, but she told him she didn’t mind. Raul could see the intrigue on her face, as she looked at the pictures on the wall and the hand drums that lay in the far corner of the room. About five minutes later more people began to stroll in, and Francisco handed Raul a pair of pants and a t-shirt for Mercedes to practice in. He had to ask Francisco to lock up the gun he carried with him in the back safe while they practiced. When Francisco eyed him questioningly, Raul told him he was on a job and his cousin dropped it. Francisco knew what Raul did for a living, and that sometimes it required the use of firearms. He took the pair of pants and t-shirt Francisco offered him, for Mercedes and turned to take the clothing to her.
He found her staring at one of his favorite pictures in the studio. “That’s a picture of my Mestre Araujo.” In the picture, a brown-skinned woman who appeared to be in her mid-to-late forties looked as if she was standing on one hand as her other hand protected her face, and her legs were in a split position above her head. It was a common Capoeira stance. Mestre Araujo was one of the great, female Capoeira instructors to rise out of the Brazilian favelas. She was also Raul and Francisco’s great-grandmother. The picture had been taken in the 1940s and preserved over time. Francisco had hung it up in his studio as a way to pay tribute to his ancestors that passed down the art of Capoeira through the family lineage.
Mer
cedes jumped. “You scared me,” she scolded him before taking the clothing Raul offered her.
“She’s beautiful. She looks so strong. Did you know her?” she asked.
Raul nodded. “She’s our great-grandmother. She passed when I was ten, but she’s the one who began teaching me Capoeira,” he said proudly.
“That’s amazing. I bet she’s proud of you and your cousin for continuing on her teachings.” Raul felt a twinge of satisfaction in his chest at Mercedes’ words.
“There’s a changing room in back. We’re starting in another five minutes or so. You don’t have to participate, but Francisco grabbed these just in case you wanted to try your hand at it later on.” Mercedes nodded and told him she’d change into the clothing in case she decided to.
Forty minutes later, Raul found himself fully immersed in a Capoeira class. He felt exhilarated as the rhythm of the hand drums played out, and he and Francisco were surrounded by the other students, who clapped in time with the drums. Raul felt his heartbeat speed up as he spun, kicked and jumped to avoid Francisco’s precise kicks. He ducked and pivoted to counter Francisco's moves. His cousin loved to show off in front of an audience, but Raul was no slouch and he kept up with everything Francisco threw at him, and countered a few moves of his own. No harsh contact was made in their show-off, as this was only a practice. Whenever Raul or Francisco left themselves exposed to an assault, the other let them know with a light kick or touch to let the other know “I could have gotten you there, if I wanted.” In turn, the students surrounding them would clap or usher “ohs” and “ahs” to let the two know they saw the opening as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Raul saw Mercedes dressed in the traditional white pants and t-shirt with the school’s logo on it. She clapped in time with the music like the others. On occasion, he saw a look of worry pass over her face when it looked like Francisco would make contact. He sent her a wink to let her know it was okay. He secretly enjoyed the fact she seemed worried about him. He wanted to tell her he’d been practicing Capoeira almost as long as he’d been walking. Even Francisco couldn’t knock Raul off his game. After that set ended, Raul and Francisco stepped out of the circle and let two other students take over where they left off.
“What do you think?” he asked Mercedes as he worked to catch his breath.
“I think that was fabulous,” she said close to his ear, so he could hear her over the crowd.
“You two look like you’ve been doing this since birth,” she joked.
“We have, pretty much. You want to give it a try?” he asked. When Mercedes looked like she wanted to say no, he grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Querida. No one expects you to do any flips or spin on your head. We’ll start out with the basics.”
For the next hour, the class broke out into partners, where each member was able to practice their skills. Raul taught Mercedes the basic move known as the ginga. From the outside it appeared to be simple, when one arm was brought up to protect the face, while the opposite leg steps back. However, just about every move in the sport originated from the ginga and it can never be too perfect. Raul watched as Mercedes practiced moves and a number of kicks he taught her. She already had a decent base level of skill from her kickboxing practice and dancing. She seemed to be a natural, but he didn’t show her too much, not wanting to tire her out before her performance that night. At the end of class, he and Mercedes accompanied Francisco and the group to a local Brazilian eatery. The large group was easily accommodated as they were Sunday regulars to the restaurant. They ate and laughed, as Francisco regaled the group of his days traveling all over the country teaching capoeira seminars. Mercedes even let it slip that she was in town for a burlesque performance, and she ended up inviting the group to her performance that night.
Mercedes and Raul spent the rest of the day enjoying Time Square, and taking in the sights and sounds of the city. Shortly after six that evening, they headed back to the hotel to allow Mercedes time to get ready for her show, and get to the club by eight that night. As Raul watched Mercedes perform her first set he got the same feeling he had the night before. He watched Mercedes dance to Eartha Kitt’s Careless Love and wondered if the song had some underlying meaning for her. He could tell by the expression on her face that she felt the lyrics of the song. He wondered if she had been hurt by love. If some careless person from her past toyed with her heart and emotions, and that’s why she was reluctant to get involved in a serious relationship. Raul knew that for whatever reason, Mercedes had a fear of commitment. He could tell in the way she held back when he seemed to get too close. He could tell just by talking to some of her past partners. The previous week he spent a few days talking to a couple of Mercedes’ exes to see if they could possibly be behind whoever was stalking her. His team was still tracking down two of her most recent exes, but from what he was told by the others painted the picture of a woman who was into dating, but not for the long haul. He planned on asking her about her exes, but not until they were back in Atlanta. For now, he was content looking at this beautiful woman on stage as she spun, dipped, and gyrated her hips to the music.
****
“Okay, I’ll be back around 5 or 6. I have my cell phone on if you need anything,” Raul told Mercedes as he came down the stairs, to leave for work. They had just returned from New York on an early morning flight, so he could make it into the office before 10 a.m. Mercedes’ performance went well last night and she was ready to unpack, and do some redesigning on new costumes and even practice a new set. She was feeling good about the way the weekend went. She even thought that just maybe Raul was overreacting to the whole stalker situation. Mercedes wondered if the person who broke into her home wasn’t just trying to scare her a little, for whatever reason and now had moved on. The trip to New York went off without a hitch. Maybe she could move back home and resume her regular schedule. She felt herself getting a little too attached to being around Raul. She had begun to feel particularly comfortable in his home. And she knew that if they kept down this road, it could lead to developing serious feelings for this man. She knew with Raul it wouldn’t just be sex. She couldn’t let that happen. Not while she was living with the man. He seemed to read too deeply into her inner thoughts as is.
“Great, I’m sure I won’t need anything though,” Mercedes responded. She looked him up and down. He wore a pair of dark blue slacks and a light blue button up shirt, with a pair of freshly polished black Stefano Bemer shoes. Mercedes unconsciously bit her lower lip. It didn’t matter what he wore, Raul always looked like he just stepped off the runway. She bet he looked even better naked…
“I’m sure, but in the event you should need me, I’m just a phone call away,” Raul said, interrupting her fantasy. She looked in his eyes and saw the knowing glint in them. With a few steps he closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. Before she could even protest he swooped down and placed a lingering kiss goodbye on her lips. She absentmindedly tilted her head to grant him better access to her mouth. The kiss was brief, and before she could gain her bearings it ended. Raul placed another kiss on her forehead and turned to head out the door.
“Don’t forget to put in the alarm code once I leave,” he reminded her. Mercedes was brought back to reality as she heard the door close. She walked over to punch in the code, marveling at how his kiss had the ability to make time stop. She shivered a little just thinking of the feel of his lips on hers.
Yeah it’s definitely time to put some distance between us. She thought.
They hadn’t even had sex yet, and she was already losing track of time and reality when he kissed her. Besides, maybe the whole stalker thing was over with. She hadn’t received any new threats. No hang up calls to her knowledge, at least not on her cell phone. And in New York there hadn’t been a trace of any threats. She planned to talk to Raul about it later that night. She knew he probably wouldn’t like her going back to her apartment, but it was her life and she wanted to get back to what she knew. Maybe she could convince Raul
to hire one of his men to check in on her at her own apartment. That way, she could have her distance and still be kept safe.
A she worked at designing her costumes, over the next few hours, Mercedes convinced herself more and more that going back home was the right thing to do. She thought about how she was going to break it to Raul that she was going back to her apartment. Just when she thought she had a plan in place, her phone rang. Looking at the number she found it odd that this person would be calling her.
“Hi Ron, how are you?” Mercedes asked, answering the phone. Ron Sherman was the principal at her school. Mercedes, along with two other assistant principals, worked closely with Ron to ensure the success of their school. It was their summer break, and though they all worked well together, most of the administrators at the school didn’t talk to one another over the summer until a few weeks before the fall semester started. Most of the staff made plans to go away with family or just take time off to decompress from the busy school year. The fact that Ron was calling Mercedes in the middle of July sent alarm bells off in her head.
“Hi Mercedes. I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but I was wondering if you were in town and had time to meet me at the school today?”
Mercedes could hear in his voice that whatever this issue was, it was serious. She wondered if someone on their staff or one of their students had been hurt. A few years ago a student of theirs was killed in a car accident over the summer break, and Mercedes received a similar phone call.
“Sure Ron. Is everything okay?” she asked feeling her anxiety grow.
“Uh well, everything is fine. We just need to talk to you.”
“We?” Hearing it was more than just Ron who wanted to speak with her caused the hairs on the back of Mercedes’ neck to stand up.
“Yes, myself and Superintendent Walters.” Mercedes was now standing. If the superintendent of schools was going to be there, it must be something serious.
Black Dahlia: Book 2 of the Black Burlesque Series, BBW, BWWM romance Page 8