Black Butterfly, Book 3 of the Black Burlesque Series

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Black Butterfly, Book 3 of the Black Burlesque Series Page 7

by Tiffany Patterson


  “All right...” he began as he pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot and pointed his car in the direction of his condo.

  ****

  Stacey pushed through the glass door of the dance studio, reaching one hand in her bag to pull out her phone as she turned to lock the door with the set of keys in her other hand.

  “Get home safe, Stace,” one of her dance students called as she walked to her car.

  “Thanks, you too, Tasha.” Stacey waved as she pressed the name of the person she intended to call. As the phone began to ring, she heard a noise not too far from her own car, which she’d just reached.

  “Calling me?” she heard someone say over her shoulder. Gasping, she turned ready to either strike or run until she saw who it was.

  “Andre! You nearly scared me half to death! What are you doing here?” she asked, blowing out a relieved breath.

  “You’re late,” he frowned, ignoring her question.

  Stacey cocked her head to the side, staring up at him perplexed. “Class ran over a little bit. Again, what are you doing here?” she said placing her hand on her hip.

  Stacey noticed the frown on his face as he took in their surroundings. The neighborhood they were in wasn’t particularly bad, but it was somewhat reclusive and the lighting wasn’t the best. Stacey watched as Andre’s frown deepened when he took in the pair of leggings she wore, and the workout t-shirt she threw over the half shirt she wore during class.

  “You come out alone every Wednesday night?” he asked, that same concern from the other night etched on his face.

  “I told you it’s not that bad. And how did you know where I taught?” she asked again.

  “I have my ways,” he answered. “Are you going home now?”

  “Why?” she asked, irritated he wasn’t giving straight answers.

  “I want to take you somewhere,” he said.

  Stacey’s face scrunched in confusion. “It’s late, isn’t it? And I’m not dressed to go out anywhere,” she said motioning towards her outfit. “And you still haven’t answered any of my questions.”

  “I know this really good ice cream spot that’s open pretty late. I can drive there, bring you back when we’re done, and follow you home to make sure you get in safely,” he reassured her.

  “Ice cream?” she asked.

  “They have really great butter pecan,” he said smirking.

  She could tell he’d done his research. Butter pecan was her favorite ice cream and she always kept at least one pint in her freezer throughout the year. She felt kind of silly being so suspicious of him now. The man already knew where she lived and had already had his face buried between her legs. It was probably a little too late to play coy now.

  “Okay, but it better be as good as you say,” she said, lowering her car keys into her bag and allowing Andre to escort her to his car.

  As they drove, Andre asked Stacey how class was and how long she’d been teaching pole dancing and yoga. She told him she’d been teaching for a couple of years, but her hours had decreased now that she was interning as part of her last semester requirements.

  At the ice cream parlor, Stacey ordered her butter pecan while Andre went with his favorite mint chocolate chip. Andre asked her about her internship and the career she planned to pursue after completing school. She told him she wanted to work as a mental health counselor specializing in eating disorders. While she told him a little about her current internship, she avoided going into detail about the significance that specialty held for her. They were just getting to know each other, and it took her a while to warm up to most people. She hadn’t even shared all the details of her past with Mercedes or Devyn. Unfortunately, some of her early life experiences had taught her to keep people at arm's length. It was something she continued to work on with her own therapist. Plus, she didn’t know how serious Andre was about her. She knew he was interested in her sexually, maybe even more than sexually, but was he interested in a relationship? If so, how serious?

  “Ask me.”

  Stacey looked up from her ice cream to see Andre’s penetrating gaze on her. She had to look away, feeling as if he might be able to read her very thoughts.

  “Ask you what?” she asked.

  “You were just wondering what was going on between us. What I want from you, right?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “How do you know what I was thinking? I could have been wondering about the exam I have later this week,” she defiantly stated.

  “But you weren’t, were you?” he asked using his finger to tilt her chin so she had nowhere to look but into his eyes.

  “No,” she answered honestly. “Okay then, what’s going on between us?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

  “Yes. I mean no. I just...are we dating or are you just looking for some fun? A few nights in your bed and then you’re on to the next woman? I’m not asking you to declare us in a relationship or anything because we just met and this is like, only our second time out together, but what happened between us the other night is not something I usually do. I mean, not on the first date. Hell, not even on the tenth date with most men I’ve been out with. And I know that’s something some women say to not make themselves appear ho-ish or whatever, but it’s true. Anyway, all I’m asking is...hell I don’t know what I’m asking,” she finished, worrying her bottom lip.

  She looked up expecting to see Andre staring at her as if she were crazy after that rant, but he wore a sideways grin on his gorgeous face. Stacey didn’t know if she was more annoyed at the delight she saw on his face or turned on at the way his eyes glinted with mischief. She’d bet more than one woman had lost their entire soul just by looking in those eyes for too long.

  Andre gripped Stacey’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled her in to meet his lips. He methodically outlined her lips with his tongue before urging them apart to take her mouth in a mouthwatering kiss. The now-familiar tingles of arousal that were only brought on by this man began to oscillate in her belly. Stacey threw her arms around his neck, needing to gain more contact.

  “Mmm.” She moaned at the feeling of his tongue stroking hers, forgetting all about the other patrons in the ice cream shop.

  Andre pulled back from the kiss, allowing his lips to graze hers. “You feel that?” he asked, his fingers still holding her chin in place.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “That’s all you need to remember about what’s going on between us,” he said before dipping his head to take her lips in another breath-stealing kiss. When he finally released her lips for much needed oxygen, Stacey was so dazed she forgot all about her previous thoughts.

  “Come on, let’s get you home before it gets too late,” Andre said as he stood, bringing Stacey with him.

  “You still haven’t told me how you found out where I worked at,” Stacey said as she pushed her key into her door lock, an hour later.

  “And I’m not going to,” he smirked, pressing a kiss to her cheek and pushing her door open wider. “Go inside and don’t forget to lock it and put the chain on the door,” he insisted.

  Stacey gave him an, “are you serious” look. “You know, I was born and grew up in the Bronx and I’ve lived by myself for many years now. I don’t need you to remind me to lock my doors. Plus, I’ve got a mean right hook. My sister taught me to fight,” she joked.

  “Your sister, huh? I’m sure your right hook is not to be messed with. Still, don’t forget to lock the door,” he reminded her again.

  Stacey sighed and shook her head, stepping in her condo.

  “See you tomorrow night,” Andre said referring to their date. When he heard the click of the door lock and the rattling of the chain as she put it on the hinge, he strolled down the hall smirking. When he stepped off the elevator, his cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Stacey asking him to text her when he got in to let her know he got home safely. Andre’s smile deepened at the message. Few women he dated asked him to check-in with them. Trut
hfully, he would have balked at the idea had it been any other woman, but the thought of Stacey being concerned about him didn’t draw the same ire for relationships and attachments he’d become accustomed to.

  When he arrived home, he willingly sent the text letting her know he was home before heading for the shower. Climbing into bed thirty minutes later, he was happy to see she’d responded, letting him know she’d waited up for his message. Andre was more satisfied with this knowledge than he cared to admit. That night he drifted off to sleep with a smirk on his face and an image of Stacey’s succulent, slightly swollen lips right after he’d kissed her.

  Chapter 7

  Bring! Bring!

  Stacey knew there was only one person bold enough to call her before eight a.m. on a Saturday morning. Even her aunt never called her this early.

  “Morning, sis,” Stacey yawned into the phone.

  “Did I wake you?” Stacey’s sister, Coral asked innocently.

  Stacey knew it was all a show. Coral knew good and goddamn well her sister usually slept in later on Saturdays and she had a habit of always waking her. Even years ago when Stacey was dancing ballet and she’d had performances late into the night on Fridays, Coral would call early on Saturdays just to catch up. The one reason Stacey obliged her sister’s call was because she hardly ever knew where in the world her sister was. Though Coral wasn’t as guarded of her whereabouts these days, she rarely remained in one place for too long.

  “No, I’m always awake at,” Stacey paused and pulled her cell from her ear to check the time, “six-thirty in the morning on a Saturday,” she said sarcastically around another yawn.

  “Oh, good then I didn’t wake you,” Coral answered sweetly. “Tell me what’s new,” Coral retorted ignoring her sister’s clear annoyance.

  Despite herself, Stacey half-smiled as she stretched in bed. Her sister was one of a kind and had been the mother to her they’d never had growing up. She was her first protector and confidant even when Coral herself was young and should have been protected from the very person she protected Stacey from.

  “Let’s see,” Stacey said, sitting back against the white tufted headboard of her queen-sized bed. “Classes are going well. I only have two actual classes this semester, but my internship counts as six credits,” she supplied happily.

  “And how’s the internship going?” Coral asked a hint of worry in her voice.

  Stacey knew to be nothing short of honest with her sister. The woman could read her like a book. Heck, she could read most people like a book, which was what made her so valuable when she worked in Army intelligence and her jobs afterwards.

  “It’s going well. The women I work with have been through so much, you know? I just want to make sure I am giving them the services they need.” Stacey had spent the last month interning as a clinical counselor at a major center for eating disorders.

  “I understand. I know no one can help those women like you since you probably know their struggle better than anyone,” Coral stated sincerely. “And how are you feeling being back there?”

  At that question, Stacey rested the phone between her head and shoulder, and placed both hands in her lap. She absentmindedly began rubbing her thumb over the tiny scar on her hand. If Coral had seen the faraway look on her face, she would have known her sister was thinking back to a time when she was on the receiving end of help instead of being the one providing the help.

  As it stood, the silence spoke volumes and Stacey’s perceptive sister understood what hadn’t been said out loud.

  “I know it can be tough. No one expects you to be a robot. If you’re not feeling up to being back th—”

  “No, no, it’s not that,” Stacey said cutting her sister off. “I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s just taking a little getting used to. I’m fine. And I’ve been talking about it with Linda. It’s just a process,” Stacey admitted.

  “Okay, but you’ll let me know if it gets too much, right?” her sister warned.

  Stacey sighed. “Of course,” she promised. Stacey knew her sister would be there for her if she needed anything. Though she was feeling strong now and didn’t feel as if she needed big sis to come to her rescue any longer, it felt good knowing someone as strong and capable as Coral, had her back. Strangely enough, this thought made her think of Andre and she smiled.

  It’d been two weeks since their first date and she was supposed to have dinner with him tonight before her performance at the Black Kitty. They’d been out numerous times and had talked or texted on the phone daily. For their third date, he’d taken her out to eat at a delicious steakhouse and then they’d played a few rounds of miniature golf. It had been Stacey’s first time playing and Andre had graciously showed her how to swing her clubs properly, although Stacey was sure his instruction was due more to wanting to feel her up, which he’d done plenty of. Presumptuous as he was in the liberties he took in kissing her or grabbing at her, she didn’t mind. Every touch sent a warming sensation through her body and inflamed her senses. She even looked forward to his showing up at her job every Wednesday evening to escort her home. It now turned into their late night ice cream tradition in which he then followed her home, and walked her to the door to make sure she got in safely. Stacey sighed thinking about the way he’d kissed her just last night after he reminded her to lock and put the chain on her door.

  “Oh shit, I know that sigh. Spill it,” Coral said bringing Stacey back to the present moment. “What’s his name?” she asked.

  Can’t put anything past Coral Coleman, Stacey thought as she began telling her sister about the new man in her life. She figured telling her sister now would help her avoid Coral showing up at her apartment unannounced, waiting on an explanation when Stacey got home from work one day. It had happened before and Stacey knew Coral wasn’t opposed to doing it again, especially if she was concerned about Stacey.

  The women spent the next thirty minutes talking and catching up. Stacey told Coral about Andre and how they’d met. When Coral told her she knew Andre’s brother and his friend Raul from her Army days, Stacey wasn’t surprised. Nor was she particularly stunned to learn Coral had worked with Raul since then. Stacey was even less surprised to learn that her sister was calling from somewhere in the Caribbean, though she wouldn’t be specific. Coral’s home base was Savannah, Georgia, now that she’d begun working with their two cousins, but she was rarely in Savannah long enough for anyone to consider it her home.

  After ending the phone conversation with Coral, Stacey decided against trying to get back to sleep. Instead she got up, dressed only in a pair of white boy shorts and a light pink tank top, and decided to practice on her nine-foot dance pole for a little while.

  Clicking on some music, she began doing some basic stretches. When Janet Jackson’s No Sleep began playing, she gripped the pole with both arms extended, swinging herself around freely. She spun and performed a number of tricks on the pole feeling weightless the higher she rose on the pole. Stacey discovered pole dancing around the same time she began burlesque, and both appealed to her love of dance and performance. Poling also helped her keep in shape without putting too much stress on her bad knee. She loved burlesque but performing too much, especially in heels, could cause her old injury to act up which could land her on bed rest for a few days at the least, which was not an option. Thus, Stacey limited her performing to two weekends a month and she mixed them up between dancing in heels, poling, and some ballet sprinkled in for good measure. Although this style of dance and performing was nothing like what she envisioned for herself, after all those years of training and practice, she’d reached a place where she accepted it and was happy where she was in her life.

  An hour later when Stacey stepped out of the shower, she had a text message from Andre. Her lips spread into a satisfied grin when she read his message.

  Good morning, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you later today. Wear something short to show off those killer legs of yours.

  Later that eveni
ng, Andre was taking Stacey out to dinner before her performance that night. She needed to spend the day studying and preparing some case notes for her internship after her therapy session, but she couldn’t let the entire day go by without talking to Andre. She decided to tease him a little bit. She snapped a picture of her freshly shaved and moisturized legs and sent him the picture with a message that read:

  You mean these legs?

  It took only a few moments to get Andre’s response.

  Yes, those legs spread eagle on my bed and your voice hoarse from yelling my name as my cock makes your pussy mine.

  Stacey’s entire body stiffened as she read his explicit response. Never had a man been so forthcoming sexually, and never had her body been so responsive. Stacey could feel the evidence of how much his message turned her on by the increasing wetness between her legs. She should have known Andre would pull no punches. If she didn’t know she was playing with fire, his next text said it all.

  Don’t play with fire unless you’re looking to get burned, baby. Now, go study.

  He had the nerve to end the message with a winky-eyed emoji. Stacey pictured the winking expression he always gave her with that cocky head tilt and her body, once again, spoke to exactly how receptive it was to his wanton talk. She already knew another sexual encounter between them would be explosive. The man ate pussy like it was going out of style. Stacey shivered at the prospect of being in his bed. How the hell was she supposed to go to her therapy session and study, with Andre’s message now foremost in her mind?

  ****

  “This is the second time you’ve been here in three weeks. Can’t stay away?” Nikola asked Andre as he pulled out a chair at his table. Their table sat only a few feet from the stage in the Black Kitty.

  “Maybe I have a growing appreciation for the art form?” Andre retorted like the smartass he was.

  “Or for a certain performer,” Nikola said looking at Andre over the rim of his glass.

 

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