Politely excusing herself, she briefly disappeared into her spacious bedroom. When she re-emerged she offered him a cold beverage. He accepted and accompanied her into the vast kitchen area. As he parked himself against the counter, she grabbed two tall glasses, then set them on the kitchen island. As she walked over to the refrigerator, she could feel his eyes surveying her form. With a broad smile, she glanced at him when she reached the refrigerator. Though he quickly redirected his gaze, she was certain his eyes had been at posterior level. Her posterior!
Unsure whether or not he had been busted, he began to take in the beauty of her decorative kitchen and the detailed craftsmanship of the kitchen cabinets and storage closets. The wood was frost maple. The style featured bold cathedral arches, detailed center panels, dentil crown molding, country rails and solid turned brass pulls and polished brass-plated knobs. There was also a matching appliance garage at the countertop level. The countertop itself was ceramic tile. Turquoise was the color.
“I’m tell’n you, this kitchen’s got it going on,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a kitchen styled like this.”
“Why, thank you,” she replied, pleased with his glowing appraisal, then revealed, “I just had it remodeled a month ago.”
Taking a seat at the kitchen island, on thick cushioned bar style chairs, the two sipped at their drinks. He, a cold malt beer. She, a wine cooler. As they conversed, the two gazed into each other’s eyes, always smiling. Beyond the kitchen’s large bay window he caught a panoramic glimpse of the ocean and its rolling, majestic waves. This unobstructed area provided a far more picturesque view than his initial sighting at the front of the house. What a view! He thought.
Silently, he watched as Margo got up to open the curtains wider, and when she did a ray of sunlight touched her face and bathed her slender body in an aura of light. Such beauty is rare to come by, he thought, as he drank her in with his thirsty eyes.
Margo quickly returned to his side. When she sat down, she reached out, lacing his fingers with her own. He was warm to the touch and his gaze romantic and soft. Charming and handsome, as always, she reflected silently, with her eyes glued to him.
“Enjoying yourself?” She gave a searching look.
“More than I can ever express. I’m in a beautiful place, with a beautiful woman. What more can I say?”
Hearing this, her heart sang with delight. “That pleases me, knowing you are having a wonderful time.” With eyes that swept over him approvingly, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on his warm lips.
Though he saw this moment as a potential prelude to an afternoon of intimate possibilities, he knew if he went that route first, he would not get around to completing his work. As difficult as it was, he squelched the thought of making love to her, at this moment.
“Look, I better get started on my work,” he said, with great restraint, as he gently planted a kiss on her forehead. She reluctantly nodded in agreement. Rising up, he grabbed his paperwork and walked over to the piano and took a seat. As he worked his magic, music poured forth from it for the first time in years. He found it surprising that it played in tune, considering no one had played it a while, according to Margo, who had admitted earlier that she did not know the difference between a major and minor chord.
Tossing the empty bottles, she walked over to him and watched, with great interest, as he would periodically jot something down on his score sheet, musical notes it looked like, then setting pencil and paper down, he would reach over to the piano keys and play a few jazzy chords. Afterwards, he would grab his pencil and score sheet and return to drawing notes on it.
Caught up in his creativity, she took a moment to position herself on the floor nearby, hugging her knees to her and watching even more intently as he worked. It certainly felt good having a man around the house, she admitted to herself.
His smile brightened whenever their eyes met.
Margo did not just admire but was captivated by his apparent genius. She was also captivated by his handsome looks. More so, she was seated close enough to be influenced by his musk-scented cologne. It was mild, and yet, manly. Just the way she liked it.
Ma’Kentu was enthralled by her, too. As the hours pressed on, from time to time, he would glance over at her and flash a heartwarming, heart-stopping smile. Occasionally, she would throw a flirtatious wink his way. And every time she returned his smile with one of her own-patented one-in-a-million smiles, he would feel himself swell with excitement.
That afternoon they took a needed break and drove into the heart of historic St. Augustine. As they walked hand-in-hand, the two shopped and browsed about the heavily trafficked tourist area, which was host to numerous street vendors, especially the area around the plaza intersecting King Street and St George Street. Later, the two paused for a broiled steak and lobster dinner and a horse driven carriage ride throughout the Spanish-styled city. A large marina filled with yachts and sailboats graced the nearby harbor near the historic Bridge Of The Lions. Picturesque, it was a life size postcard.
When they returned home, the two went for a barefoot walk on Margo’s private beach.
“I’ve wanted to tell you all day that we’re going to have a special guest performer tonight with the band onstage,” he said, reaching down momentarily to pick up a large seashell.
“That’s great! Who is it?” she asked, tearing away her gaze from the seashell.
“I want to surprise you, baby.”
“A surprise?” Bemused but not satisfied, she did her best to pry the name of the special guest musician out of him but he refused to reveal it. With a laugh, he reminded her that it would not be a surprise if he told her. But still, she urged him on.
“Okay, I’ll compromise,” he chuckled. “I’ll give you a clue on the way to the concert, okay?”
“I guess that’s fair enough,” she replied. “But don’t be surprise if I try to coerce it out of you later.” She gave him a wanton gaze to ponder.
During their romantic promenade, he came to a stop, faced her, then snaked his arms gently around her waist, drawing her closer to him. As he gazed down into her sparkling green eyes, his own eyes deep, penetrating, and magnetic, he shook his head incredulously and said, “Margo, I just can’t help myself! You’re so beautiful, your lips so luscious, your eyes, so enchanting.”
As he neared her moist lips with his own, she felt herself grow weak with desire. Parting her lips, she raised herself to meet his imminent kiss. And for what appeared an eternity, his hot mouth covered hers hungrily, sending wave after wave after wave of ecstasy throughout her passion-starved body. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed dreamily into her eyes a second time, his breathing rapid and irregular. With lips still burning from the memory of his first kiss, she braced herself for another kiss, a kiss that would prove to be more urgent and more exploratory than the first kiss. And when it came, she drank it in with such eagerness that it surprised even herself.
“Margo, I love you,” Ma’Kentu professed, kissing her neck and shoulders and face between the words. “I can’t help but say it. Honey, I love you! I-love-you!!!” No longer torn by guilt or conflicting emotions, Margo felt the time was right. A warm smile spread across her face. Nestled comfortably inside his embrace she kissed the side of his neck and whispered in his ear, “I love you, too, darling! I do!”
“God, I thought I’d never hear you utter those words,” Ma’Kentu sighed.
Margo continued to smile. It was a liberating moment for her. Inside, she realized that it was his deep probing kisses and his undying love for her that freed in her the ability to face the truth about what she had been feeling about him. And now that she had heard the “L” word flow from his mouth, and her own, there was a sense of freedom and empowerment she had not felt before in their very brief but intense relationship.
With a manly stare that penetrated her inner soul, a stare that left no doubt in her mind what was about to transpire between them, he uttered, in a confident low and sexy voice, “I
think it’s about time I showed you how skilled a musician I really am.” His manly words and manly confidence sent a shudder throughout her nervous and anxious body. The feeling was one of anticipation and urgency.
It had been a while for her. She thought about resisting initially, but she realized she was far too weak with desire. Besides, she no longer wanted to resist him. She was eager to embrace him, love him, for in her mind, she felt he had made her feel emotionally complete, as a woman. Now she longed for him to make her feel like a woman, in a way that only a man could make her feel, and had prepared herself to reciprocate his love for her, and his fiery passion for her, at every level.
Reaching down, he swept her up into his strong arms and carried her inside and to her bedroom. It was the final act of surrender, on her part. Positioning her soft form across the queen-size bed, he delighted in undressing her. First her slacks, then her blouse.
Standing erect, he unfastened his trousers, unzipped them, then let them drop loosely around his ankles. Next, he removed his shirt, exposing his well-defined chest. Standing before her, like some Mandingo god, wearing only black briefs, he savored the look of desire in her eyes as she got more than an eyeful of his well-chiseled brown body. Below him, Margo’s heart pounded madly.
Stepping out of his trousers, he crawled into the bed beside her heavy breathing form. With great care and great tenderness, he massaged her temples, her smooth shoulders, then her shapely thighs and legs. Rolling her slowly over, he unfastened her bra, then assisted her out of it. With hands warm to the touch, he massaged the nape of her neck, her smooth unblemished back and the back of her shapely thighs and calves, all with slow circular, sometimes, kneading motion of his skillful hands until he felt that her body was completely relaxed. Occasionally, he would lower his face and plant a trail of hot kisses with his lips along her warm exposed body, sending wave after wave of arousal rippling throughout her shapely, ready-to-be-taken form.
Rolling her over slowly again, so that she was facing him, he took a moment to savor her prodigious mounds with his eyes. She had the best looking breasts he had ever seen on a woman. His past lovers would have either a nice firm bottom or little or no breasts or have big breasts and little or no bottom. Rarely, if ever, had he made love to a fine looking woman with both bottom and top, with little in-between. Margo was that rare and unique masterpiece.
Margo was pleased that he found her so desirable. She had taken good care of her body over the years, via exercise and diet, and it had not let her down. Though in her late thirties she had the firm body of a youthful twenty-four year-old. Just as D’Sandra had told her. And she felt every bit like a youthful twenty-four year-old, too. She loved her body as much as she loved life. Right now, she loved the manner in which Ma’Kentu made her heart hammer against her ribs, the way he made her shiver all over, the way he made her feel blissfully intoxicated. And she ravished the way his warm hands traced several paths over her hot skin. “Oooh, Margo!” He sighed, his voice low and husky.
Lowering his lips, he enveloped one of her excited nipples and gave it ample attention, then he found her other nipple and pampered it, as well. Switching off, between the two lobes, he titillated, teased and pulled gently on both of her budding nipples until they had become harden and swollen in his hot mouth. The excitement shot through her like a bolt of lightning.
That her body responded to his touch with such urgency only heightened his own state of arousal. Margo’s dreamy, half-closed, eyes said it all, along with her cat-like cooing. It was her way of conveying how much she loved every minute of it.
As he kissed her wildly, with complete abandonment, he felt her hands roam across his hard body, exploring, kneading, especially his muscular back, his firm buttocks, and his well-defined thighs and calves, pulling him downward, closer to her, as if to join with him.
She was about to go for the door prize when he paused abruptly, as if it was an afterthought. Leaning towards the lamp table, he grabbed the phone, scanned it, until he located the ringer, which ensured its silence by engaging the off button. No one was going to interrupt them tonight. No one…including Little Maceo!
Pressing his hard form against her soft body, he fitted the warm curve of her hips more intimately against his own. Again, he lowered his lips and kissed her hungrily, passionately, then with an initial thrust of his pelvis, and a sigh, he entered her world of ecstasy. With a near-savaged intensity, the two made love like there was no tomorrow. As his body consumed hers, he suddenly felt a warm rising tension building within his loin, and at a feverish and climatic pitch. Unable to put the inevitable off, his face became a mask of sheer pleasure. Arching his tensed form, he shuddered uncontrollably as he reached the summit of sexual indulgence.
Sensing her own orgasm coming on, Margo instinctively wrapped her shapely legs around him, vise-like, then joined him, as her own delightful eruption took her over the edge. A radiant smile spread across her lovely face. It was an explosion, of sorts, she had not experienced in over a year. As if in slow motion, the two lovers bucked wildly, uncontrollably, as if to wrestle every drop of pleasure out of the experience. When her body finally eased out of the self-induced, though short-lived, body turbulence, her glowing concupiscent face a mask of sheer pleasure, she murmured his name over and over. Exhausted, he collapsed besides her, his breathing laborious. The feeling of satisfaction was not something easily put into words. But satisfied they both were.
Though their consummation was rather brief, as a result of the arousal and anticipation level of the two, it did not matter to them. Longevity was not a major issue between them, right now. What drove their passion was more urgent, more indulging. The event was certainly worthy of her diary.
After a warm refreshing bath, they took turns rubbing lotion on each other. For a short while he returned to working on his musical score. After he completed it, he played it on the piano to Margo’s delight. She enjoyed it and she told him so. She said she couldn’t wait to hear the band perform his jazz version of it. Before signing off, he played her a very sentimental and romantic jazz tune. “That was lovely,” she cooed, afterwards. “What’s the name of that song?”
Raising his hands a few inches up from the piano keys, he faced her, and with a smile, replied, “It’s a tune called Sierra. It’s a sixties piece. I think the composer was someone named Lee. I’m not sure, though. I heard it just one time and remembered the entire song.”
“It’s so beautiful,” she added, brushing aside a strand of hair from her eye.
Gazing at her with dark dreamy eyes, he replied softly, “I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorite tunes.”
After a short pause, she looked up at him, smiled, and asked quietly, “Mr. Bassman. Do you think you could show me more of your musical talents? I’ll be whatever instrument you want me to be. And I promise, it will be like no other music lesson you’ve ever given before.”
Grinning, he shook his head, saying, “Hell, I thought I just gave one helluva lesson a few minutes ago. You’re telling me you can top that?”
With a flirtatious, though confident gaze, she replied, “Not only can I top that, I can guarantee you’ll be pleased by my performance. Besides, you haven’t made me hit the highest note I’m capable of hitting.”
“Is that so? Along with a guarantee, umm,” he mumbled, his head tilting toward her. “Well, consider it done, my lady,” he quipped, rising up from the piano stool. “Not only will you hit that high note, I’m going to make sure you break every damn Champaign class within a two block area. How’s that?”
“Talk is cheap, baby!” She laughed, as she received his outstretched hands. Sweeping her limp form up into his strong arms, he carried her into the candlelit bedroom, and into a blissful world of ecstasy. And she finally hit that high note.
Two hours later, she woke up and stretched. She smiled, feeling a serene sense of fulfillment and delight. She reached over to touch Ma’Kentu, and he wasn’t there. She was about to call out his name w
hen she heard him plucking at his bass guitar. She got up to go greet him. Slipping on a light robe, she walked into the living room.
Ma’Kentu smiled upon seeing her glowing face. Resting one arm over his instrument, he assisted her as she sat down beside him. “Hello my dear. Did you sleep well?” He asked, as his fingers tenderly traced the line of her cheekbone. Cradling her head against his hand she gazed up into his brown eyes and said, “It was the best I’d slept in a long, long while. And you?”
“Well, after you fell asleep, I sort of laid there beside you and studied your beautiful face. You looked so pure, so angelic. Did you know you smile when you sleep?”
“No, I’ve never been told that before.”
“Well, you do.”
“That’s interesting. Very interesting,” she said, exhaling. “So, you decided to practice a little, I see.”
“Was just going over a few tunes,” he replied, as his dreamy eyes melted into hers. “I have to guard against complacency.” With an inviting smile, he lifted up his bass and resumed his soft strumming.
As he played, she listened intently. And as she listened, she studied his face unhurriedly, feature by feature.
“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this happy, this content, this much in love.”
“Same here, baby,” he added, the even whiteness of his toothy smile was appealing.
Without missing a beat, she leaned towards him, her little heart beating like a high-octane engine. Touching her hand to his knee, she said, “I love you baby. I love you so much.”
With a pause, he looked searchingly into her eyes. “I love you too, Margo.”
“How much?”
With a broad grin, he took his bass, in hand, adjusted his amplifier, and played a short chromatic melody that started at the high octave range of the treble clef scale and ended at the far depths of it. “Bassment Deep! That’s how much I love you, baby.”
Bassment Deep Page 17