Welcome Back, My Love

by Niobia Bryant

  He grabbed her phone and started swiping and typing on it.

  Meena reached to snatch it back and missed.

  He winked at her as he handed her iPhone back to her. “Call me. I added my name and number to your contacts,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged back around her car to climb inside his truck.

  The drivers behind her laid on their horns like they were trying to resuscitate them. Meena accelerated forward, casting her stranger a brief look before he made the right turn. She felt nervous—a little anxious—and pulled out of traffic into the parking lot of the BiLo grocery store on Bacon Bridge Road.

  After putting the car in park, she looked down at her cell phone on her lap. Curiosity won out. Picking it up, she unlocked it. His contact page was still open. She smiled and shook her head a little that he saved his number under THE ONE.

  “The one? No such thing,” she muttered, as she swiped to get to her videos.

  She chuckled that the video only caught a hot second of his face and then his hand as he took the phone from her.

  “He is cute,” Meena admitted as she opened her calendar.

  She pushed her shades atop her hair. “There are massages with Gary on Monday, lunch with Dex on Thursday, bowling with Yori on Friday, and movies with Will on Saturday” she read aloud. “A little booked this week. Let’s check next week...”

  Meena was a serial dater not looking for a relationship. To her, life was too short and there were far too many cuties to settle on just one. Putting all her hopes and dreams on one man, giving him all the power to crash and burn her heart? Never. “Maybe I can make room for one more,” she said aloud.

  Her phone vibrated in her hand. She was taken aback to see it was him calling her. She also noted that the pace of her pulse quickened a bit. She answered. “What is your real name?” she asked before he could speak one charming word.

  He chuckled. “Armstrong Mann.”

  Meena tilted her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “You’re a busy little beaver, aren’t you?” she teased, her tone soft and flirty.

  “I’m determined to get what I want.”

  “And you wanted my number?” she asked, opening her eyes as she tipped her shades back down onto her nose.

  Again, he chuckled. “Yes. So, I text myself on your phone to get it.”

  Her eyes locked on the summer sun through the pastel tint of her rose gold shades. “You do know there’s a thin line between hot pursuit and stalking?” she asked with a hint of a smile.

  “And what’s the determining factor of which side of the line a man is on?”

  “Whether the woman wants the attention or not,” she answered smoothly. “Not fair, but very true.”

  “And?” he asked, his tone leading.

  She glanced down at the open calendar on her phone. “I’m not ready to get a restraining order...yet.”

  He laughed. It was warm and big. Infectious.

  She liked it. She liked it a lot.

  ∞

  Summer 2014

  Meena looked out the clear glass pane and down the tree-lined street at the picturesque house on the corner. She found herself doing that a lot. Something about the butter yellow home with the shiny black shutters always made her smile. The warm fuzzies.

  “I have to pee-pee, Miss Ali.”

  Meena turned from the window as the rest of the pre-K students in her class began to laugh. That little voice was Omar Green, her resident class cut-up. She bit her cheek to keep from smiling and put on a stern face before turning to face them. Most of the laughs and giggles died down. She crossed her arms over her chest and deepened her frown.

  Silence reigned.

  But not for long. Four-year-olds were little bundles of energy.

  Meena eyed Omar just as Mrs. Stuart, her teaching assistant, came back into the classroom carrying a large tray of cupcakes and juices boxes. It was an end of the school year treat for the students. “Are you sure you have to tinkle, Omar?” she asked. “I would hate for you to miss out on the cupcakes and juice.”

  He turned in his seat to eye the treats and licked his lips. “I really love cupcakes, Miss Ali,” he said, cutting her a quick side-eye before looking back at the treats with laser focus.

  “Really?” she asked, her tone bemused.

  “Really,” he stressed.

  Meena gave his head an affectionate rub as she walked away from him.

  Oscar was rambunctious, lively, and talkative. Many times, during the academic year, Meena had struggled with whether he should be evaluated for having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. She tried more structure and consistent discipline for him. His behavior improved—nowhere near perfection, but an improvement nonetheless.

  And now it was the last minutes of the school year and her entire class was advancing to kindergarten. Oscar would no longer be her student. It was bittersweet. No more of his disruptions nearly twice a day, but no more of his huge dimpled smiles either.

  Meena slowly went around the entire classroom and said her own personal goodbye to each student with her wish for them to have a great summer. Most were too engaged with enjoying their cupcakes, but Meena made the effort anyway. She wanted them to remember her and to never forget that she cared about each and every one.

  When the last school bell rang, Meena remained behind to clean up the classroom while Mrs. Stuart escorted the children to the front of the school building to be loaded onto their school bus or for the car riders to be picked up by their parents. She grabbed a box of garbage bags from her supply closet, setting it on the corner of her desk after she pulled one bag free. As she made her way up and down each aisle between the seats, her gaze kept going back to the row of sun-filled windows. Pausing in her task, she made her way back to the windows and looked out at the yellow house on the corner.

  This summer she would miss it as well.

  “I’m jealous of whatever you’re staring at.”

  Meena spun. Her face filled with surprise and then pleasure at Armstrong coming across the room to stand before her. She’d forgotten that he was picking her up from work, just as he dropped her off. He was a construction worker for Jamison & Jamison Contractors and a mix-up with building permits led to the work on the home being shut down temporarily, thus freeing up his time.

  He gave her that charming smile of his. That, coupled with how much she loved the fit of his t-shirt and the way the color blue suited his complexion, filled her with the urge to kiss him. With a small shrug, she looked past his shoulder to make sure they were alone and stepped close to him to press her mouth to his. Quick but sweet.

  Armstrong’s eyes warmed over and spoke to wanting more, but his small step to the side to stand beside her let her know he respected where they were. “So, what were you looking at?” he asked, leaning forward to gaze out the window.

  Meena enjoyed the scent of his warm cologne as she affectionately eyed his profile. It had been just over a year since they met and Armstrong Mann—whom she called Mann-Mann—had fit so effortlessly into her life. More than she wanted. More than she thought she needed.

  He glanced over at her.

  Meena shifted her eyes away from him...but not before she saw a knowing smile spread across his face. From the start of it all, she told him she didn’t want anything serious. As much as she stayed pressed to keep things cool between them, Mann-Mann knew he had charmed his way into her life and filled it up with his big personality so that no other man had room to fit in.

  They weren’t exclusive. She wasn’t going in that deep. She was able to date whomever she wanted when she wanted. The cards were in her hands to be dealt as she pleased. She just didn’t please to date anyone else at the moment. That’s all.

  His smiled widened.

  He is so damn cute...and so damn good in bed.

  Too cute.

  Too damn good in bed.

  “Nothing,” Meena said, finally answering him.

  She cleared her throat and walked
away from him to finish cleaning up the classroom. She looked over her shoulder to find that Armstrong held another of the garbage bags from the box on her desk and was helping her clean up. Their eyes met briefly and she smiled.

  The man really made himself hard to resist.

  Once the room was clean, Armstrong set her huge plastic container of teaching materials atop the cabinet. At the end of the school year, each classroom had to be free of anything on the walls or the floor that would keep the school’s maintenance staff from cleaning or painting the rooms during the summer. With one last look over her shoulder, feeling a mix of sadness and relief that the school year was over, Meena closed the door and walked beside Armstrong down the long and wide hallway with its brightly polished floors.

  That wing of the school was nearly empty and Meena waved or gave a hug to those few teachers or school staff she encountered on her way to the front doors. Armstrong held one open for her. As she stepped outside her eyes instantly went to the house on the corner with its dark shutters and flower boxes with bright perennials at each of the shiny windows.

  “Walk with me,” she requested of him with a soft smile.

  “Where?”

  “Home,” she answered simply, surprised by how quickly that declaration came to her.

  “Huh?” he asked in obvious confusion.

  “Nothing," she said, reaching for his hand and enjoying the feel of her soft fingertips stroking against the callouses of his palm before she entwined her fingers with his. They were the hands of a man who put in a hard day’s work for his pay. Hands that also put in hard night’s work for her pleasure.

  Together they walked the half block distance from the school before crossing the street beneath large maple trees with bright red leaves whose branches met in the middle of the street and created an arch that shadowed them from the summer sun.

  “It’s quiet,” Armstrong said, looking down the length of homes with manicured lawns, before glancing back down at her.

  Meena tugged his arm to bring him to a stop before the little yellow house. She tilted her head back to take it all in. “I don’t know why but something about this little house just makes me smile,” she admitted to him in a soft whisper, her eyes shifting to take in every charming detail.

  She released his hand and stepped closer to the black wrought iron fence surrounding the property.

  “Meena, what if someone’s home and sees you?” Armstrong asked, coming to stand beside her.

  She shrugged as she took in the manicured lawn with its stone paved walkways flanked by colorful perennial flowers and shade offering trees. “I’ve been looking out the window in my classroom all year at this house and I just wanted to see it up close because I will miss it all summer. Silly, right?” she asked, looking up at his side profile.

  Armstrong looked down at her, his eyes studying hers before filling with a serious light. “Not at all,” he said.

  Her heart raced. It always seemed to do that around him. Just like that gentle but noticeable flip-flop of her stomach. Armstrong Mann was getting to be a regular in her life. Expected. Reliable. Constant.

  And for the life of her, as much as her brain tried to remind her that a serious relationship was the last thing she wanted, her body just couldn’t seem to resist the man.

  ∞

  December 2014

  Meena’s excitement kept her from sleeping.

  In the darkness, with only a bit of light streaming thru the window from the moon, she lay on her side of the bed, flat on her back with her eyes wide open. Armstrong released a deep snore as he turned his head on the pillows. She eyed his reflection in the shadows and smiled. Tomorrow night they would sleep in their king-sized bed at a lodge in Aspen—a far larger and more comfortable bed than Armstrong’s lumpy full-sized one.

  He lived alone in a small two-bedroom mobile home that he grew up in with his mother. Upon her passing from an aneurysm, he had remained living in the outdated trailer that was older than he was. When a home aged it gained character. When a mobile home aged it began to deteriorate—especially after thirty or forty years. It had been all his mother could afford as a single mother who received no support from the father of her child.

  So Meena never complained when Armstrong insisted they spend some nights at his place even though there was more amenities and comfort at the house she shared with her sister. She wouldn’t dare make him feel that the home his mother provided for him or his simple lifestyle was not good enough for her. Never.

  She shifted onto her side and the bed squeaked loudly in protest. Pressing her elbow into the pillow, she rested her head on the ball of her palm and smiled down at him. She could hardly believe he agreed to spend the Christmas holidays skiing in Aspen. That definitely was a Meena thing and not an Armstrong thing.

  He would have been happy spending the day with her family, eating all the good soulful southern food the ladies in the family prepared. Armstrong, her Mann-Mann, was a country boy through and through. His favored sports were softball, hunting, fishing, and watching football on Monday, Thursday, and Sundays. He was doing this for her and she appreciated that.

  She took in his profile. She studied him. The square cut of his jaw. His beard. The way his long and lush lashes rested against his skin. His mouth always slightly ajar as he lightly snored.

  This beautiful man with the ever-present smile and giving nature had charmed his way into her heart. A heart she’d sworn to keep protected.

  Leaning down, Meena pressed a warm kiss to brow. “Wake up, Mann-Mann. It’s morning,” she whispered to him.

  He moaned and snuggled deeper beneath the comforter. “Kissing my other head might work better,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.

  “Oh no you didn’t,” Meena balked, arching a brow as she pulled the pillow from beneath her to softly land it against his already smiling face.

  He rolled over and captured her body beneath his. “You know this is why you woke me up, Meena Ali,” he said, circling his hips to grind the length of his hardness against her stomach.

  She writhed against him, half-heartedly trying to free his weight atop her body. “Actually, I’m ready to hit the road for Greenville to catch our flight to Aspen,” she said, breathless from the exertion.

  Armstrong was a solid man. Strong. Well-built. Heavy as hell.

  Although she didn’t notice it quite as much when they were making love.

  He went still and lifted his head up like a watchdog on high alert. “What time is it?” he asked, moving to straddle her hips with his knees before he sat up straight.

  He always slept in the nude and his dick now dangled above her face. She reached up to lightly stroke the thick tip causing the soft but lengthy inches to sway back and forth a bit like a bell. She caught it in one hand and stroked downward as she tilted her head up to look up at him.

  Armstrong’s body tensed. He looked down into her face as he gently thrust his hips forward, his butt clenching with each move. “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he warned her, his voice strained.

  Meena smiled as she raised her head from the pillow to twirl her tongue around his warm tip before sucking it deeply into her mouth.

  Armstrong’s face twisted in pleasure, gasping air through pursed lips as his thighs quivered. “Damn,” he swore.

  Meena laughed a little as he hardened against her lips. The heat of him warmed her tongue. She took him so deeply into her mouth that he released a slightly high-pitched squeal from the back of his throat.

  She freed him from her mouth and quickly scooted herself down between his open thighs enough to leave the bed.

  “The hell?” she heard him swear from behind her as she crossed the room.

  “What time is it?” Meena asked innocently, repeating his question.

  Moments later she felt her body jerked back against him as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist.

  “We’re going to finish this,” he whispered in her ear as his other hand cam
e up to warmly grasp one of her breasts.

  Meena gasped from his touch. His nearness. The anticipation of what was to come.

  She said nothing as he sat her on her feet before his dresser bureau and stood close behind her, his groin nestled against her buttocks, as he lightly grabbed the back of her neck and bent her down over it. Her breasts pressed down against the wood. The coolness was shocking against her nipples.

  As he gripped and spread her cheeks, the feel of his fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her buttocks evoked a cry of passion. She squeezed her eyes shut as he slipped a finger inside her core and circled it against her walls.

  “It’s already wet,” Armstrong whispered thickly, easing his finger from inside her to stroke her plump clit as he used his free hand to tap the tip of his hardness against her buttocks.

  Whap-whap-whap.

  Meena moaned in pleasure.

  “Open up,” he said.

  She raised her head to look back over her shoulder as she spread her legs, raised up on the tip of her toes, and arched her back so that her intimacy was positioned high in front of him. She smiled languidly as she bent her legs and twerked a little before shifting her hips back and forth as if to say ‘Come and get it’.

  Armstrong was a laid back, conflict-free man who loved life and rarely gave in to anger, but when they were bound by passion his intensity was off the charts.

  She looked at their reflection in the mirror atop the dresser. His face was smooth, his brows dipped in the middle and his eyes ablaze as he looked down at her buttocks and core. He shook his head as if in wonder as he teased her moistness with the smooth tip of his dick.

  “Mann-Mann,” Meena gasped hotly as he stroked her throbbing clit.

  He bit his bottom lip and eased his thick hardness inside her, inch by inch. Slowly. Spreading her. Filling her. Fulfilling her.

  Meena moaned deeply at the feel of his deep strokes as her walls gripped him like a suction. She spread her arms wide across the top of the dresser and gripped the edges so tightly she was sure she dug into the surface with her fingernails. To hell with it.

  She locked her eyes on him in the mirror and missed nothing. The muscles of his upper body flexed as he gripped her buttocks. The sweat now coating his body. Strokes delivered with ferocity.