Zane's the Heat Seekers

by Zane

  “About fifty, if they have them,” Tempest replied. “I’m trying to get all the girls at the center the same thing. You know how females can get. If I get even three or four of them a different Christmas present, the others will swear I’m playing favoritism.”

  “True!” Geren grabbed Tempest by the waist and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You know what I adore about you most?”

  “What?” Tempest asked, blushing.

  “Your compassion.” He let go of her and started picking out sets to add to the pile. “That very first night at your apartment, when you described what you do for a living, I could see the excitement and dedication in your eyes. Not many people would commit themselves to doing what you do. It takes a special kind of person.”

  “Well, I have my reasons, Geren,” Tempest said somberly. “Don’t make me out to be some sort of saint, because I’m not. I just don’t want to see teenage girls sink into depression and assume their lives are over simply because of an unplanned pregnancy. This isn’t a new problem in society. Did you see that HBO movie, If These Walls Could Talk? It spoke volumes.”

  “No, I missed it. What was it about?”

  Tempest gazed up at him, and he got an uneasy feeling. It was almost as if there was pure hatred in her eyes. “It was about three women who resided in the same house during different decades who all had to deal with an unplanned pregnancy. One was a nurse who had an illegal abortion right on her kitchen table, one was a married woman with one too many kids already, and the third was a college student who had an affair with a professor. When she went to an abortion clinic to have the procedure done, an antiabortionist shot and killed the female doctor right in front of her.”

  “Damn, that sounds real deep!”

  Tempest looked away and threw a few more glove sets in the cart. “It was not only deep but extremely realistic. The crazy part is these men—the ones who say anything to get into a woman’s pants and then run for the hills when she ends up pregnant. The ones who think birth control is solely the woman’s responsibility. I hate men like that!”

  “So I gather,” Geren said cautiously, hoping she wasn’t implying he was in the same category. He couldn’t wait to have kids. With the right woman, of course. He went to the opposite side of the display stand and picked up a pair of navy insulated gloves. “How do you like these?” he asked, trying his best to change the subject. “Do you think they match the jacket I have on?”

  Tempest took a good look at the jacket he had on, which was ablaze with a kaleidoscope of colors. She wanted to tell him that jacket was not half as fly as he thought it was. It was downright unattractive, which surprised Tempest, since Geren usually dressed very stylishly. Instead, she just said, “Naw, I think black will look better if they have them. Black matches everything. By the way, that jacket is the bomb-diggity.”

  “You really like it?”

  “Hell, yeah!” Tempest exclaimed, lying her ass off but wanting to make him feel good about himself.

  Geren’s face lit up as he put the navy pair back and rummaged through the pile until he found a black pair. “Here we go.” He held them up to his jacket and did a quick inspection. “You’re right. These do look better.”

  Tempest grinned at him and started pushing the cart, satisfied she finally had enough hat-and-glove sets to cover everybody at the center. “Before we check out, I want to look down the Christmas decorations aisle.”

  “I thought you already had a bunch of them.” Geren recalled how Tempest had asked him to pull several boxes filled with ornaments down from the hidden storage area at the top of her hallway closet.

  “I do. I just want to see what they have. I collect African-American ornaments and Santa Clauses,” Tempest boasted. “Just wait until you see my collection. It’s taken me years to accumulate them all.”

  Geren blushed. “Does that mean you’re going to let me help trim the tree?”

  Tempest looped her arm around his and rubbed her cheek against the shoulder of his ugly-ass coat. “Among other things.”

  “Umm, sounds promising!”

  “Oh, it is. Wait until you see what I plan to do with the leftover frosting from the cookies I’m decorating for the center.” Tempest continued to hold on to his arm while they strolled down the aisle of Christmas decorations. She didn’t see any African-American items. “I have big plans for that frosting.”

  “Big ones, huh?”

  “Huge ones!”

  “By the way, you’re going to attend the Christmas party at the center, aren’t you?” Tempest poked her bottom lip out, letting Geren know there was a temper tantrum lurking around the corner if he said no. “All the women and girls there are dying to meet my man.”

  “I’ll be there with bells on my toes,” Geren replied.

  “Bells on your toes? That sounds sexy.”

  Tempest let go of his arm and picked up a box of greeting cards with African-American carolers on the front. She immediately found another package with African-American elves. “These are great! I’m going to send these out this year. I’m glad I didn’t already put stamps on the other ones I have at home.”

  Geren felt compelled to confess, “I’d do anything for you.”

  “Really?” Tempest asked suspiciously, trying to conceal a grin.

  “Yes, really,” Geren replied in a mocking voice. “Just try me.”

  “Okay, I will.” Tempest giggled. “The other day when I was in Landover Mall, I had this lightbulb go off in my head.”

  “I hope it didn’t short-circuit anything.”

  Tempest punched him gently on the chest and laughed. “Silly ass! Anyway, they have an African-American Santa Claus there, and I was wondering if you would dress up as Santa for the party.”

  Geren frowned slightly, uncomfortable with the idea of putting on a red velvet suit and beard. Before he could say no, Tempest added, “I’ll be your wife.”

  Geren bent over and gently swept his lips across hers. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “Umm, I did-did-didn’t mean it like that,” Tempest stuttered. “I meant I would dress up like Mrs. Santa Claus.”

  “Oh, I thought you meant something else,” Geren said, disappointed.

  Tempest took off for the checkout counter like she was a contestant on Supermarket Sweep. She wasn’t prepared for a conversation about marriage, even if it was in a joking manner. The problem was, she wasn’t sure whether Geren was joking or not.

  Geren yanked gently on the back of her sweater. “Slow down, Tempest. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” Tempest said, flashing a strained smile. “I just remembered that I promised Kensington I would stop by and check on her today. Her mother’s still giving her a hard time about the pregnancy.”

  Geren chuckled, knowing that wasn’t the real reason she took off like a bat out of hell. “What was that you said about not showing favoritism to any of the girls at the center?”

  Tempest shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment. “Well, I have to admit that Kensington’s very special to me. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s her innocence, but they’re all innocent. None of them ask to end up in this predicament. Yet there’s something about her that reminds me a lot of myself.”

  “So does this mean she won’t get the hat-and-glove set?” Geren asked with an edge of sarcasm.

  “She’ll get one of those, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t plan to give her something else on the sly. In fact, I already bought it.”

  “Oh, yeah? Do tell!”

  “Uh-uh, you’ll just have to wait and see,” Tempest said, getting in one of the long checkout lines. “Dang, we’re going to be here all day!”

  Geren grabbed a National Inquisiter off the rack at the end of the counter.

  “You read that trash?” Tempest asked in shock.

  “Heck, yeah!” Geren exclaimed, flipping the pages. “They have some good stuff in here.”

  “Yeah, right.”

/>   “Really, they do. Here’s an article about a famous movie star who had a baby by her cousin.”

  Tempest yanked it out of his hand. “Let me see that!”

  By the time they checked out, Tempest was hooked. She purchased a copy of every tabloid she could find.

  • • •

  “Boy, that was so much fun!” Geren admitted, plopping down on Tempest’s sofa in his Santa costume. “I never thought I’d like dressing up like this. In fact, I just knew I would hate it, but I was wrong. I loved it!”

  “That’s great!” Tempest unbuckled her black granny shoes and kicked them off in the middle of the floor. Her dogs were barking. “You were wonderful with all of the kids. The real shocker was the batch of cookies you baked. Are you sure you didn’t buy them?” Tempest asked suspiciously.

  “Hey, hey now, I told you I baked those cookies from scratch. I worked my kitchen over all afternoon.”

  “Maybe now you can work me over,” Tempest said seductively.

  “Did Janessa tear into my cookies or what?”

  Tempest laughed. “She ate at least ten of those bad boys. I thought she was going to have to waddle out of there.”

  “I wonder what happened to Dvontè. He said he was coming through.”

  “He’s your boy,” Tempest replied snidely. “Probably out hoeing.”

  Geren didn’t know what to make of that comment, so he changed the subject. “Where did all of those people come from? I thought it was just going to be the girls who get counseling at the center.”

  Tempest wrinkled her nose, trying to restrain a laugh. “I kind of, sort of, omitted the fact that we have a big community party every year. I thought you might back out if you knew half the neighborhood was coming.”

  “You would have been right, too.” Geren pulled Tempest down on top of him on the sofa. “You look mighty sexy in that outfit,” he said, pulling the gray wig off her head so her silky brown hair could outline her face.

  “That outfit you have on is kind of turning me on, too,” Tempest replied jokingly. “Especially the pillow stuffed in your shirt. There’s nothing like having something soft and cuddly to snuggle up with.”

  “Is that right?” Geren pulled her face closer to his so he could kiss her, but she pulled back from him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Tempest anxiously removed his hat, wig and beard. “I just don’t want a mouth full of synthetic hair.”

  “Don’t stop there!” Geren protested. “Take everything off me, and then I’ll take everything off you.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we’ll make love until the sun comes up.”

  “Hmm, are you sure you’re not taking Niagra on the sly?” Tempest teased. “All these nights of endless lovemaking are beginning to arouse my suspicions.”

  “Naw, I don’t need any Niagra,” Geren replied. “Just looking at you makes my dick hard.”

  Tempest blushed. “In that case, take me to bed.”

  • • •

  Tempest was aroused the next morning by the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked apple-cinnamon muffins. She threw the covers off, climbed out of bed and reached for her white cotton bathrobe, which was hanging from a dowel on her bedroom door. She slid her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers and headed to the kitchen to investigate the scent.

  “What smells so scrumptious?” she asked, rubbing remnants of sleep out of her eyes while they adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting of the kitchen.

  “You mean other than you?” Geren responded, taking a fresh batch of muffins out of the lower oven.

  “Very funny.” Tempest giggled.

  “It wasn’t meant as a joke.” Geren threw the oven mitts on the counter, grabbed Tempest by the waist and slipped her the tongue. After a deep, passionate kiss, he added, “You do smell sweet. Sweet enough to eat.”

  Tempest pulled away from him, playing hard to get, if only for a few seconds. She tried to take a muffin out of the pan, but it was too hot. “Hmm, if I’m not mistaken, you already did that last night,” she whispered, licking the stickiness off her slightly seared fingertips.

  Geren cracked an evil grin, undressing her with his eyeballs. “What? Are you imposing limitations or something like that?”

  Tempest couldn’t help but be amused. She looked at him, standing there in a pair of form-fitting white silk boxers and nothing else. “Not at all,” she stated, realizing she still craved more sex, even after the hellified dick action he threw on her the night before. “Chez Tempest is open twenty-four/seven.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s on the menu at Chez Tempest?” Geren got an instant erection from the possibilities alone.

  “Well,” Tempest drawled, surveying her kitchen counters, “for starters, we have honey-dipped breasts sprinkled with powdered sugar.”

  “Sounds yummy.”

  “Would you like to try some?”

  “Hell, yeah!” Geren exclaimed.

  Tempest picked up a jar of honey with one hand and untied her robe with the other one. She let it fall open, exposing her bare breasts, and then spread honey on her nipples with her fingers. She followed that up by sprinkling some powdered sugar on them.

  Geren bent down and hungrily licked the sweet confection off her nipples, first one at a time and then simultaneously, pushing her breasts together and moving his tongue back and forth between them.

  Once done, he stood up and asked, “Can I have some more, please?”

  “Nope!” Tempest replied. Geren pouted, and she burst out laughing. “Now it’s time for the main course.”

  Geren’s eyes lit up like firecrackers. “Which is?”

  Tempest thought for a second, trying to conjure up some creativity, picked up a jar of orange marmalade, and then answered, “Pussy à la orange.”

  “Ew, damn, hold up!” Geren exclaimed. He opened up one of Tempest’s lower kitchen cabinets, the one where she kept serving dishes. “Let me get my plate.”

  Tempest giggled when Geren retrieved a large silver platter out of the cabinet. “That’s not a plate. That’s a platter.”

  Geren caressed the nape of her neck and stared lovingly in her eyes. “Let me eat you off a silver platter. You deserve to be treated like royalty. Today, tomorrow, and always.”

  Tempest was overwhelmed with excitement. Geren was always full of surprises when it came to lovemaking. “In that case, let me get you a bib,” she said jokingly.

  Geren pulled the rest of Tempest’s robe off with his free hand and then lifted her up by placing his arm under her buttocks. He suckled on her sticky nipples while he carried both her and the platter to the dining room table so he could eat his breakfast.

  • • •

  “I think now is a good time to give you my present.” Geren had a satisfied look on his face as he climbed up off the sofa. He had made love to Tempest for the better part of Christmas Day, and dinnertime was about to roll around. They had a turkey breast, along with some sweet potatoes and corn-bread stuffing baking in the oven.

  “Present?” Tempest said, faking astonishment. She knew her boo would buy her the bomb-ass present, and she’d been waiting anxiously to find out what it was. She didn’t want Geren to know that she’d been on pins and needles, though.

  “Yes.” She is not even fooling me, Geren thought to himself. He knew Tempest was the typical woman and loved presents just as much as the next one. “Of course I bought you something.”

  “Where is it?” Tempest demanded to know. She jumped from the sofa butt-naked, having long gotten over any inhibitions she had around him.

  Geren laughed and waved his index finger back and forth in front of her face. “Uh-uh-uh, you have to find it.”

  “Aw, come on. No fair!” Tempest protested, pushing her bottom lip out as far as it could possibly go.

  “I’ll give you a clue.”

  “A clue?” Tempest rolled her eyes. “Why a clue? Just tell me where it is, you silly goose.”

  “If you take fifteen s
teps forward from the front door, take forty steps to your left, and then twelve steps backward, where would you be?”

  Tempest gawked at him in disbelief. His clue was downright ridiculous. “Hmm, how about another clue?”

  Geren sat on the arm of the sofa and crossed his arms. “Okay, but just one more. If you don’t get it this time, too bad.”

  “Okay!” Tempest reluctantly agreed.

  Geren decided to go easy on her and let her off the hook. “It’s under your bed.”

  Tempest took off speed-walking down the hall, tits swinging and all, to her bedroom. She got down on her knees and started looking under her bed. Geren, who had followed her, was enthralled by her bare ass bouncing up in the air. It made him horny all over again.

  Tempest came back up with a box wrapped in African-American Santa Claus paper. “I see you pulled one of my numbers with the African-American Christmas stuff, huh?”

  “Sure did,” Geren admitted. “Maybe your habits are rubbing off on me.”

  Tempest smiled lovingly at him while she ripped the paper off the box and tore the lid off.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Tempest exclaimed, pulling out an ugly-ass kaleidoscope jacket identical to the one Geren owned.

  “You threw such a fit over my jacket the other night at Kmart that I decided to get you one just like it,” Geren stated with pride. He felt it was the perfect gift for her.

  “Thanks, baby,” Tempest said, still in shock. She had no intention of wearing that jacket out in public, but that was the least of her problems at the moment. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Try it on,” Geren insisted. “I want to make sure it fits.”

  “Okay.”

  Tempest let Geren hold the jacket open for her while she slipped her arms in. While comfortable, it was still ugly as all hell.

  “I love it!” Tempest lied. “Thank you, baby!”

  “I knew you would, and you’re welcome.”

  “Umm, listen,” Tempest whispered, a nervous wreck in the making. “I haven’t gotten your present yet. I had to special-order it, and it won’t be ready until Monday. I’ll pick it up then.”

  “That’s strange.” Geren stared at her suspiciously. “Real strange.”