Beauty Of Man and Woman – Episode 4

Written by Mercedes Keyes
Interracial drama series
[Overall Drama Rated – R]
Episode Four – Rated PG

To read further – http://amberswann.com/

Chapter Ten

She’d rewritten the query letter at least three times. Sitting as she was in an oversized cozy chair with her feet up on the ottoman, she should be productive. A small floor lamp standing behind, the soft glow shining down over her shoulder enhanced by the crackling, warm fire glowing beside her. The laptop that was propped up on her lap offered no assistance. She found it hard to concentrate—as if that were anything new of late. Forcing herself to focus and think, she once again read the query letter to a prospective agent. Trying to put herself in the agent’s shoes and seat, the first thing to realize was that they received hundreds of query letters weekly. In order to succeed, she had to create a letter that captured one’s attention. She needed to write a letter that held their interest and caused one to think of the possibilities her writing style would offer. She needed to present all of this in as few words as possible. After the third attempt…she sighed deep and long, inhaling and exhaling slowly, dropping her head back. This problem hadn’t always been. This predicament had arisen just recently, with her mind constantly flooded with thoughts of him. What was she going to do? Things were getting out of hand. Pulling her legs up and setting her feet on the floor, she sat her laptop down and rose to walk into the kitchen. She was hungry and couldn’t decide what it was she wanted to eat.

Standing with the refrigerator door open, she reached for the lone orange sitting on the center rack. Closing the door, she stepped to the side and began rolling it on the counter to soften its peel, simplifying the removal and loosening the juice. Popping a segment into her mouth, she savored the cool citrus sweetness of it, turning to lean against her kitchen counter. The phone loomed large suddenly, calling her attention to it. Why? Because of him. She wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his voice. What was he doing right now? Was he wondering what she was doing? “I’m thinking about you,” she answered out loud as if he’d asked the question. Sighing deep, she finished her orange and went to her basement door and down the stairs. She would gather some wood in the log carrier and bring up a bundle for the night.

The fireplace helped keep the chill out of the air since she kept her thermostat set at 60°F. She found that it was too expensive to heat her house with LP fuel alone. She’d done that last winter and it had cost her an arm and a leg. Not this year, she wouldn’t. Looking around her finished basement with its rustic décor, pool table and other amusement games…she realized that this house was probably too big for her to be living in alone, but it was comfortable and to her liking. It fit her, who she was, and allowed her to easily implement the type of furnishings that expressed her style of living. With her carrier loaded, she walked past the bar and turned on the lights to it, then picked up the remote to the 36-inch TV in the wall entertainment center and clicked it on. Setting the wood on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, she went to the refrigerator freezer and removed a large, ring tray of jumbo shrimp. A spur of impulse found her whipping up a quick salad. She then took out two New York Strip steaks and two large potatoes. After activating the works to cook in her small basement kitchen, she went behind the bar and picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she quickly dialed his number before she lost her nerve.

“Hello?” His voice was soft, while deep and masculine; the timbre of it reaching to her core.

“Hi.” She swallowed, afraid.

“Hi,” he returned, not sure who he spoke to.

“It’s me…Sylvia,” she informed him nervously.

“Sylvia! Wow, what a surprise! Is something wrong?” he asked, stunned to hear her voice over his phone. He looked across the kitchen at the refrigerator door that he’d left open to answer the phone. He was starving. He’d been painting most of the day and hated to stop when his rhythm was just so. There were days when he struggled with one of his paintings, and others, where the talent seem to flow from him. Today had been just one of those days, ending just a half an hour ago because the hunger grew sharp.

“Nothing…I, uh, well…echm…umm…” She gulped and swallowed deep, then with her eyes closed as if not seeing would block her embarrassment, she softly climbed out on the limb. “I haven’t had dinner yet and I’m hungry, and I thought maybe you would be, too…I mean, if you’re not…that’s fine…but I thought we could maybe…well, keep each other company a couple of hours. Play some pool, maybe shoot some darts…whatever you’d like to do,” she finished, sighing in relief to get it out. She could hear him chuckling through the phone line.

“Whatever I’d like to do, hmm?”

She could hear the grin in his tone as well. “Well, not whatever! You know what I mean.”

“I see.” He snickered. “I think, dear lady, that your timing is perfect. I also happen to be hungry—starving, in fact. Sure, I’d be delighted. Is there anything I can bring…um, maybe a bottle of wine or something?”

Smiling and giddy, with the nod of her head Sylvia answered, “Sure. A bottle of wine would be nice.” What a relief…it hadn’t been as hard to do as she thought.

“I’ll be over in about thirty minutes then. I need a shower. I have paint all over me and I worked out earlier, I better take care of that. Trust me—you would not care for the smell of me right now.”

“Well, I guess you better head for the shower then. See you when you get here.”

“Lady, I’ll be there with bells on.”

Hanging up, Sylvia paused a moment to savor the delicious thought of his presence there, but for only a moment did she pause. Heading back to the small kitchenette counter, Sylvia unwrapped the steaks, rinsed them off, placing them on the thawing plate, making sure to season and marinade them. She then opened the frozen shrimp tray, placing them in cool running water to aid in a faster thaw. Grabbing the logs, she dashed up the stairs and stacked them by the fire. She gave her home a quick survey to make sure everything was as it should be. Satisfied, she closed her laptop, placing it neatly on the end table to anchor the pile of papers. With that spot tidy, she rushed to the stereo and started her 25-disc CD player, setting it on shuffle mode. The first soundtrack to start the evening was Stevie Wonder’s You are the Sunshine of My Life. Smiling at the atmosphere playing Stevie in the background set, she hurried into her bathroom. Her intention was to do a quick wash-up, but second thought had her stripping down and starting the shower. Pinning her hair up out of the way, she stepped into the warm, invigorating spray.

Again her intention was for a fast shower, but with him on her mind…it did something to the way she was suddenly feeling. Her body was responding to her thoughts, stimulating every nerve ending and making her skin ultra-sensitive to every caress with the sponge netting and fragrant cream wash. The spray of the warm shower pelting against her skin was soothing as she lathered up one arm, slow with pleasure, turning gently in a dreamy state so that the tiny jets had her tingling as it bounced off of her back and buttocks. From her arms, the lathering bath continued across her chest, over and around her breasts. Her nipples tightened to an achy hardness, which was what it took to snap her out of it.

Stunned at her state of rising arousal, she knew she’d best hasten this shower before it led to full sexual awakening. A moment later she stepped from the shower, looking immediately up at the bath clock. Ten minutes was burned in that shower. After a rapid patting all over using a soft, thick and thirsty towel, she grabbed her bottle of lotion and stopped. It usually took her ten minutes to completely lotion her body down after a shower, which she faithfully did under normal circumstances. No time for that tonight; it seemed to her that she and the clock were in a race. Thank goodness Avon understood this, providing a lotion moisturizing spray, which of course she had, taking advantage of that post-haste. She laughed out loud as she next grabbed the feminine deodorant spray for her lower regions, and then the stick for the underarms. “Good grief! Do men go through all of this to smell good?” She chuckled in wonder at the things women did to feel good about their bodies, their carriage and the way they smelled. Turning to her bathroom vanity, she pulled open the bottom drawer and removed a little, lacy dark-red pair of undies, followed by the matching bra.

Five minutes gone. She had fifteen minutes.

“This is crazy!” she screeched, still grinning, pulling them up as they rolled with her damp, moist skin, making her laugh out her frustration trying to straighten them. Two snapping shakes to the bra and the fight was on with that. “Ooh! Would you cut it out!” she scolded the clock. It had to be a proven fact when you’re not in an urgent hurry, the bra goes on without a hitch, when you are… “Argh! I hate this thing!” this exclamation after hooking it, turning it, only to find after pulling it up and over, that it was inside out. She knew it when it hooked that odd way, but prayed it was a ‘different bra’. Not!

“The heck with it! How’s he gonna know it’s on backwards? He’s not going there anyway, so—it stays,” she declared, rushing into her bedroom pulling the straps up one arm, then the other, making the necessary adjustments on the way. “Now, what to wear?” She stopped in the center of her bedroom, running her evening casual wear through her mind. Looking at the dresser, then spun in place, looking to the closet. “Comfort!” She dashed to the closet and pulled from it a set with burgundy stretch pants and a knit multicolored top with a floral print. At her dresser she grabbed her favorite perfume, Provocative, and spritzed it in all the right places. Ten minutes left, according to her clock radio beside the bed.

“I am never doing this again. Why do I care how I look? What I smell like? This is not a date, after all!” she grumbled, pulling up her stretch pants, then grabbed the top to pull over her head. It caught on a hair pin. “Oh no, my hair is still pinned up!” Back to the bathroom, in the mirror, she snatched pins from her hair, shook her head, then combed it into place. “No time for makeup.” She sighed. “I’ll just dust with some powder and a little lip hue. That’s good enough.”

“Hmmm? Should I go now, or should I wait? It’s been twenty-five minutes, but I said thirty. Is she gonna be the type that needs me to be late? Or the type that expects me to be on time? Or would she find it considerate to be early? Or inconsiderate showing up early? Is she “as is” or did she get ready, too? Oh hell.” He sighed deep, running his hand through his hair in irritation.

“Damn women…pain in the ass, I swear,” this he muttered, rising from leaning on the window looking across the way. He walked to the kitchen with his stomach growling. “Hell, I’m hungry…I’m going now,” he grumped, then selected a bottle of wine out of the wine rack on the kitchen counter. On the way to the door he grabbed his lambskin jacket and headed out, putting it on as he tromped across the yard. The snow was falling in large cluster flakes and the night felt wonderful. He felt wonderful. There was something right about this night. About her, about them; she knew this too, regardless of how she protested. Obviously she was realizing this because here he was on his way to her house for dinner and a game of pool. Bottle of wine in hand, and a determination to show her that they were meant to be, no more lollygagging.

He noticed that she hadn’t shoveled her walkway to the porch yet, nor the porch for that matter. That would kill some time. He wouldn’t be late. Nor would he be too early. He would be there, but still allowing her enough time to do whatever it was that women did when awaiting men. Setting his bottle of wine down on the porch, he stepped over to the garage, opening the door he clicked the light on. Entering, he looked around for the snow shovel. There was one hanging on a utility rack on the wall.

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Chapter Eleven

 

He was late! Ten minutes late! Sylvia came up the basement stairs and walked to her living room picture window to look out across the street, when he walked past it across her front porch. She gasped in surprise, went to the door, opening it she leaned out asking, “What are you doing? How long have you been here?” He glanced over his shoulder after pushing a load of snow over the edge of her porch. “I sure hope you have dinner done, I’m starving! I’m almost done, I’ll be in in a minute.”

“Sir, if you haven’t noticed, it’s still snowing.”

“I know, but if you let it pile up, the job to remove it is bigger.”

“If you say so.” She stood a moment, ignoring the cold to look at him. She’d never met a man like this before. He stood looking back at her, then turned slowly and walked up to her. The evidence of the cold showed on the breaths he took. Sylvia swallowed, mesmerized as she stared up at him, now that he was up close, placing the shovel down by the door. She noticed that his arms were long when he braced his hands on the door frame to stand over her, his body large and warm, radiating heat despite the cold. His nose and cheeks were red. Was it the cold, dark night standing behind him with the light of her porch shining a soft yellow that made his eyes so blue…when other times they were gray? He was growing a mustache, adding to the masculinity that was already overwhelming. He was so close…so very close. Her gaze caressed his face with a soft dreaminess that she had no will to stop. From his eyes, down the length of his nose, to his parted mouth. She could hear him breathing. Her gaze drifted back up to his. Finally his voice broke the spell.

“This is the one and only time I’m going to give you options, lady. As I stated, I’m hungry, and that’s plural. Which are you willing to feed?”

Sylvia was frozen in place and unable to move. From low in his throat, there came a deep, “Emm, good choice.” Suddenly his warm mouth was over hers. His cold nose softly brushing her skin. She whimpered, feeling a capable hand at her back pulling her against him as he stepped into her front door. His warm, moist mouth tasting hers with proof to his hunger as his tongue entered to taste deeper. His body strong and hard, Sylvia noticed with her hands pressed against his chest. Easily he closed her door, never breaking the contact of his mouth on hers, turning her against it as it clicked shut. With her heart pounding, she found his other arm around her. Her body lifted against the door, pressed there by his large body. Her mind was racing with what was happening to her. She battled mind and heart. Her heart wanted him with a passion she could not deny. Her mind warning her that this was happening too soon. That she was being foolish to let him manipulate and mold her as he no doubt had done many others before her. “Nooo!” She twisted her mouth from his, breathing deep and hard.

“Please, stop. Let me down…please,” she gasped, breathless. With his pulse pumping and throbbing, Everett slowly lowered her to the floor, but did not break the distance. It felt so right, so good to be this way with her…to be close like this. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a deep, throaty timbre softly spoken, hoping to coax her back to another kiss. She couldn’t look up at him. He stood over her, his body against hers, his forearms against the door on either side of her head. She had to collect herself. She had to bring her racing heart back to normal…this was insane. “Please, move…let me go,” she pleaded softly, swallowing deep and nervous.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” he asked, lowering himself with the bend of his knees to see her face angled as it was, hiding. She had to put distance between them and pushed her way from the door, escaping the space he held her in. “Look, I didn’t invite you here for this. That shouldn’t have happened,” she said, moving towards the center of the room away from Everett. He turned to follow her across the room. “Why did it then?”

“Because, you…you did it.”

“You wanted me to.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes—you—did,” he enunciated slowly in an attempt to make her admit it.

“Well, I-I don’t want it to happen again. I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know what you want—”

“I want you.”

“Well you’re not the first man!”

“I don’t imagine that I am.”

“Look, let me tell you so that you know…just like them, I’m not the one. There are hundreds of women out there more than willing to do whatever it is you need done. I’m not one of them. I invited you over tonight as a friendly gesture. The offer is for dinner. Maybe a game of pool or cards…and that’s it. You helped me out and I appreciate it. But don’t you go thinking that you’re going to end up in my bed! Because it ain’t going down like that and I mean it!” she finished, feeling her old self return. She finally felt back in control. “Now you, sir, have an option. Dinner here under my terms—or take out?” She swallowed again, unable to shake the nervous giddiness his presence made her feel. Plus, her body was still tingling with the throbbing of her lips. He sighed deep, shrugging his shoulders to remove his jacket. “You drive one hard bargain, lady. Okay…your terms.” He tossed his jacket on the back of the recliner in the living room.

“And hang up that jacket,” she ordered good-naturedly.

“Yes, ma’am. You mind getting the wine off the kitchen porch stairs where I left it?” he asked, doing as she requested.

“Sure, I can do that.” She turned away, blowing out a “phew” in relief.

He was hustling her. He should be ashamed of himself, but he wasn’t. She was leaning over the pool table lining up another shot, a triumphant grin lighting up her pretty face. He’d won the first game they played, pretending by luck, noticing her pool skills. Automatically, his mind injected the plan to hustle her in the game for a kiss. Just one more kiss. He couldn’t get that first one out of his mind. Nor the feelings it evoked. He hadn’t felt so shaken to the core since his very first kiss as a young boy. When for the first time, he had experienced his tongue in a young girl’s mouth. Back then, the kiss had been sweet because she had just removed a Charms cherry lollipop for the kiss, so yes…cherry sweet. The kiss earlier had been that kind of sweet as well, not flavored with the taste of a Charms lollipop, but flavored with something infinitely sweeter. Decorum be damned. He wanted another one. He wanted to feel that body up against his again. Her full, soft breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He wanted to test the weight and firmness of her rear in his hands again. He stood watching her, resigned to his semi-aroused state. If he dare let his mind go any further in the fantasy of her, he would find himself at a full erection and no way to hide it. She took her shot and made it. She had three balls left on the table to his six. She stood, did a cute little wink and double click with her tongue from the side of her mouth. Um-hm, lady. You’re smug now. Let’s see how smug you are when I sit you on that table with “Otis” nudging at your door, my tongue in your mouth, and the cheeks of your firm ass in my hands.

“Argh! I hate it when I miss an easy shot like that!” Sylvia exclaimed, stepping back from the table to give him his shot.

“Yeah, sure. Obviously you invited me here to show off what a pool shark you are,” he spoke as if serious but okay with it. Sylvia grinned. “Who, me, a pool shark? Not hardly. I just find the game enjoyable and relaxing. You play pretty good,” she offered, trying to keep from crowing at the high of whipping him in pool. She loved to win, and in this, she was doing just that. Or so she thought.

“Thanks,” he responded, just so, making a shot that looked unplanned by an amateur of course—and missed. The appropriate deep sigh followed. Sylvia bit into her bottom lip not to laugh out.

“You’ll learn. Just be patient, and draw the geometric lines in your mind. The cause and effect of alignment and impact,” she advised, trying not to sound like she was bragging on her skill.

“Oh, now I’m getting a lesson in physics, hm?” he grumped sourly.

“I’m just saying, besides, physics help.” She profiled with her stick lined up for a shot then winked at him, took it, and hit dead on with the ball taking the side pocket with a resounding knock at the rail before she sunk it. “What can I say?” Now that was a blatant brag.

He hid the sinister grin behind narrowed eyes. Obviously she didn’t understand the magnitude of that kiss. Nor the way it made him feel. If nothing else, this lady had his lust meter flicking madly in the hot zone. As much as he hated admitting it, it was much more than that. Than lust. I might have taken sympathy on you, lady, but there’s a lesson to be learned here, and “teach” is going to give you one you’ll not soon forget.

“Em-hmm. No big deal. It’s just pool…anybody can learn to play pool and win. If you ask me, it’s a game for wussies. If I wanted to, I could beat you. I just don’t want to,” he said, aimed and missed the next shot.

“Ach!” Sylvie sounded. “Say what? Wussies?” she simpered, then chuckled. “You just mad ’cause you can’t play,” she furthered. “I brought you down here, fed you that good and tender steak, and you know it was good—wudn’it?” she prodded for affirmation. He nodded, looking her in the eyes.

“Yeah, it was good, if I must say so myself.” Take it nice and slow…she’s about to set up the knock down…just let her lead you, and you follow her right in, he coached himself silently.

“Doggone right it was good! Nice, fresh-tossed salad. Perfectly baked potato, I might add and dessert is waiting,” she continued to boast.

You better believe it, baby, and it’s gonna be sweet, he thought in anticipation. “Now, having said that, the least you could do…” She had that black pride feeling raising its ugly head. Her gestures, drag and motion, just too confident. “I said, the least you could do, is take this whippin’ like a man. I ain’t gone hurt ya bad, just a lil’ spankin’. You like spankings, don’tcha?” She grinned, then laughed out as she set up the last two shots and sunk them both, and without hesitation she polished off the 8-ball in the corner pocket. Her finale was a little victory dance, crowing in her joy and laughter. Oh, but he played his part well. “Oh, I see how you are now. Didn’t your mama ever teach you when you play a game with a man, you’re suppose to let him win?”

“My mama never taught me no such thing,” she returned, with hands on hips and attitude high.

“Well she should have. I could win at this stupid game if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to.” He played the sore loser role to perfection.

“Excuse me? First of all, the game is not stupid. Second, it takes time to develop the skill level needed to be a successful pool player. And…obviously you haven’t put that much time into it. Which is why—I spanked you—three out of four games. That first one was my warm up, or you wouldn’t have won that one either,” she continued, digging a deeper hole for herself.

“Skill my lily-white, hairy ass!” he shot, making Sylvia gasp in shock, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

“You gettin’ mad, ain’tcha? It ain’t nothin’ but a thang…you ain’t the first I beat. It don’t minimize your manhood none. Everything you came in with—you get to leave with. Pride might be a little bruised, but that, too, will heal.”

“Oh, that’s it! Round up the balls, set ‘em up! Rack ‘em up! Whatever the hell you call it, let’s go. My turn now!” He pretended to be wounded and ready to fight for his manhood. Sylvia was grinning, shaking her head. “I think that we should just forego anymore pool tonight and have dessert. I mean…it’s only going to get worse.”

“Oh, oh, oh! Scared now, aren’t you? Scared I’m gonna beat you at your own game!” he fronted. She rolled her eyes. “Honey chile’, please. That is the least of my worries. I’m trying to save you from yourself. You couldn’t handle the last three whippin’s. What make you think you can handle one more? Ain’t you sore enough?”

“Rack ‘em up!”

“You not gonna win. Come on, let’s have some dessert. You need to calm down.”

“You’re just afraid I’ll beat you, that’s all. I bet you I’ll win. I’ve been watching how you play, I can do what you’ve been doing.”

“You’ll bet me?” Sylvia asked, incredulous, then laughed as if he were crazy. Then thought, what the heck. I’mo have to teach this white man something right now.

“Okay, you rack ‘em up. I’ll even let you break,” she offered, relishing the thought of winning the bet.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are we betting for?”

“Darlin’, you can bet for whatever you want. You ain’t gone win. Skies the limit,” she bragged confidently. “It takes time to get where I am at pool,” she informed him again, then stated what she wanted, “I tell you what I want. I win…you have to keep my porch shoveled. Annnd, you have to keep my car cleaned off. If I’m going somewhere, you have to warm it up for me. I hate going out in the morning and getting into a cold car.” She shivered to emphasize the point.

“You keep your car in the garage!” he exclaimed, incredulous.

“I might forget and leave it out one day, and even in the garage, it’s still cold. No matter how early. If I call you…four in the mornin’ tellin’ you I got to be somewhere by five, you got to get out there and have that car warm for me. As a matter of fact, I want it warmed up, pulled out of the garage and parked right in line with the front door, so all I have to do is run out and jump in. I want you waiting out there for me until I come, so you can hold the door open for me like a valet,” she finished, grinning with tears in her eyes.

He shook his head thinking, oh baby, it gets sweeter and sweeter. “You sure that’s all? I mean, maybe I should run and fill it up with gas, too!” he added, sarcastically.

Her eyes grew large. “Oh, yeah! I hate standing with that cold wind blowing as I pump the gas. Okay, yeah, that too. If I need gas, I expect you to take it and fill it up. Thank you, that’s a good one.”

“Ohhhh,” he growled deep in his throat.

“Hey, a bet’s a bet. You said it. Now when I win, you just follow through, no backing down.”

“No backing down?”

“No—backing—down. The bet stands, right here, right now.”

“You sure about that?” he checked.

“I’m sure…sure!”

“You got it, lady, and you remember the same,” he added with calculating eyes. “Now, my turn for what I want.” His eyes, his gesture, his stance shook Sylvia deep inside, and for a moment she had a weird feeling come over her. The feeling, as if she might have been taken, but she shook if off. She was good when it came to pool. She would win. She knew she would.

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Chapter Twelve

 

“Fire away…let’s hear it.”

“Immediately following my victory of this game, I’m going to take you by the waist, set you on the rail of this fine table here, part your legs and step in between. I’m then going to grab your hips and pull you snug and tight up against me—so you can feel for yourself what you do to me.” He gave her a moment to digest that, lifting one large hand before her. “Then this hand will be at your lower back holding you there so you don’t move away, while the other will be behind your head, pressing your mouth to mine as my tongue tastes tonight’s dinner and every hidden crevice there. You will not break the kiss! Only I can break the kiss, no matter how long I make it. So take a deep, long breath now, lady, because after this game, every breath you take, I will claim as mine. As a matter of fact, from this day forward, if I decide to grab you and kiss you, you have to let me. Again, I break it, not you. That’s what I want, and by the way, wherever it is that my hand wanders during the kiss, they have the freedom to wander, and again, you have to let them. Now let’s play your game.” A confident brow rose and he winked at her. Sylvia gulped. Next thing she knew, his whole manner changed. His focus was entirely on the pool table. He took the triangle ball rack, placing it on the table and lining it perfect with the correct side dots. Reaching down into the open slot, he retrieved the balls, placing them in the triangle according to the correct color, solid and stripe arrangement, numbers included. Next, he gave the rack a move forward, then back, stabilizing the balls and removed it with ease. Setting it aside, he grabbed his stick, the chalk cube and applied his desired amount of chalk to the tip.

“You’re sure you want me to break?”

Sylvia stared at him, speechless.

“No problem,” he replied as if her silence meant yes. His stance, his lean, his play with the stick and the way he was lining up the shot to break said loud and clear—pool player from the get go! With a sinking realization, Sylvie realized she was about to get the most dangerous hustle of her life. He pulled the stick back and shot it forward with such power, the clacking of the balls reverberated as they scattered far and wide across the table. Three stripes went in, and two solids. He chose the stripes, walking around the table and lining up the shots like a master. His eyes on the table, he spared her not one glance. There was no hiding his skill level now, making bank shots and other difficult shots and in no time flat, all the stripes were in. “8-ball in that side pocket, last hole.” She watched as the 8-ball rolled to its pocket as if the master had spoken. He then went about clearing the table of what would have been her balls to shoot. He didn’t miss a shot. Not one. Very quietly, Sylvia sighed deep. With the table clean, he stepped over to the rack, put his stick in its place there. Walked to her, took her stick, and did the same. Again Sylvia gulped.

Come here,” he commanded in no uncertain terms. That command snapped Sylvie to attention.

“You hustled me!” she charged. “You knew how to play all along!” she argued with a speeding heart.

“Never mind that, I said come here.” He started towards her. “Remember, no backing down…you’re not going to renege, are you?” he asked silkily with steady even steps. Sylvia whimpered, backing away against the side of the table.

“You took advantage of me! You knew you could beat me!”

His smile was that of a stalking wolf. “According to you, that wasn’t possible.”

Again she whimpered. “Surely you’re not going to hold me to that bet?” she squealed, a sudden ringing in her ears began.

“Sorry, lady, I have every intention of holding you to that bet, just as you would have held me to your terms.”

“I was just…just razzing you. I would have never held you to all of that…really. I mean, we were just kidding around…right?” She gulped convulsively. He chuckled, very amused, coming to stand right in front of her. That he was aroused, she could see, without having to look right at his crotch.

“Pay up time, darlin’, pay up time.” His hands went around her waist. “Wait!” she cried out as an adrenal rush shot through her body. He ignored her and lifted her to the table. “Oh man!” she whined, short of breath. He spread her knees. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” she cried rapidly.

He chuckled. “That’s a little premature, isn’t it? I’m good, but not that good.” He chuckled, bringing his face close to hers. Letting his cheek caress hers as he warmed her ear with his breath, then his tongue.

“Shawn Everett McPherson, what…what would your mother think, if…if…” He sucked on her earlobe. “…she knew…you…were hustling innocent…” Warm, moist nibbles traced startling sensations down the side of her neck, his teeth gently nipping as he went. “Emmm, you smell good. Good…enough…to…eat.” Her head went to the side and back, her eyes dazed and dreamy. True to his terms, she felt his hand at her lower back drawing her closer to him. “Please…don’t…” she gasped, breathless.

“A bet’s…a bet,” he breathed, wrapping his other arm around her, his large hand cupping the back of her head, his mouth sucking and kissing up her throat.

“This is not…a kiss,” she panted.

“In my book it is, I call it…prelude…to…a…kiss,” he announced slowly between each taste before he tilted her head up and went in for the kill. His mouth completely closed over hers, the force of his tongue entering there robbed her of her breath. His assault was merciless, withdrawing long enough only to allow her a gasping breath, before he went deep again. Molding and pressing her body tightly against his own. Grinding his arousal to the apex of her core. He was as hard and firm as she feared, rubbing against her yielding softness. Sylvia thought her heart would burst from the rapid beating. Her body was on the verge of something that would take her over the edge if she didn’t stop him now.

“Noooo!” She wrenched her mouth from his, snatching herself from his strong embrace. She scrambled to the center of the pool table, turning and coming to her knees, breathing heavy and gasping for air. Her body shook from the trauma of being so close to something so sweet, but she couldn’t do this. Bet or not, she could not let him use her this way.

“I can’t! I can’t! I’m begging you…please don’t make me go through with this!” She had tears in her eyes because she knew she put herself there. Everett stepped back from the table, his eyes devouring her. She took his breath away. He was throbbing all over, especially in one area of his being. He had to take calming breaths himself. “I’m sorry. I really am…I know it’s my fault,” she admitted softly, wiping away streaming tears.

“I want you, Sylvie. Can’t you see that?”

“To go to bed with! To soothe your curiosity! To offer you something new!” she cried, backing to the edge and climbing down to put the table between them. “I’m not looking to be any man’s conquest or notch for his belt. That’s not what I’m about. I would appreciate it if you would respect that.”

“I respect you, Sylvie,” he stated gently. “Because I desire you, you think that’s a show of disrespect?”

“It’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

“This! If I hadn’t stopped you, you know what it would have led to.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this, Sylvia. You’re a beautiful woman. Made to be loved inside and out by a man. Me. It’s a beautiful thing, baby. Man and woman were meant to be as one, that’s the awe of us. That’s the way God made us.”

“We’re not married, Everett—Shawn! Whatever your name is! God made it a beautiful thing when it is shared between two people who know each other, cherish each other, love and commit to each other. That is the beauty of man and woman, in realizing that…and making it so! It is not a beautiful thing when it’s used for shallow, temporary, gratification. Or when it’s distorted and perverted to something that takes over, making everything connected to it ugly and unclean. I want no part of that. It’s not who I am,” she ended softly, her body slowly coming down from the heights of passion he’d sent her to.

He, too, was now calm. He was leaning against the arm of her sofa. His arms crossed over his chest, staring into her eyes as she was his. He was such a beautiful man. In her mind, there was no way a man like him could be trusted, could be sincere. Of course she was assuming these things about him, but she wasn’t about to gamble her heart on it. Besides, they were just neighbors who happened to be attracted to each other. It didn’t mean that they were meant to be anything more than what they were. It was just too soon to tell. She was not about to hand herself over to him to use at will because they had chemistry.

Shawn sighed long and deep, then ran his hand over his face and through his hair, ruffling it up. “Okay.” He sighed again. “Okay. I hear you. Now…come here.” He tossed his head back, gesturing for her to come to him.

“No.” Shaking her head, hesitant and a little afraid. Not of him, but of the way he made her feel.

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

She slowly came from the far side of the pool table towards him. “And the bet?” she asked hopefully.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, no…I’m not relinquishing it that easy, but I will give you some time…to deal with the terms of it.” She wilted with a disappointed look on her face. “Come here,” he coaxed gently. Reluctantly she stepped up to him; he reached and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her waist. She braced her hands against his biceps, ready to push back.

“Relax, I’ve never forced myself on a woman, and I’m not about to start with you.” Looking into his eyes, she inhaled to relax. This would be an adjustment for her, being held like this by him. “Feel better now?” he asked.

She smiled. “A little. Is this really necessary, you holding me?” He nodded, answering, “Yes, I like having you close to me. Feels good.”

She whimpered, still unsure of him and this. “Why me? What’s happening here? And don’t stand here and tell me there isn’t someone else you’re involved with. I’m not stupid.”

“Well, let’s just say…I have been. We’re on what you might call unsure ground,” he admitted honestly.

“Then what are you doing here, Shawn?” She grinned and so did he.

“You gonna start calling me by my real name?”

She smiled mischievously. “Does anyone else call you Shawn?”

“My immediate family.”

Sylvia smiled. “Well that’s a shame. It’s a very nice name. It makes you sound less arrogant and more wholesome.” She was getting comfortable in his arms, leaning against him. He pulled her in closer with an affectionate squeeze. “Wholesome? What—like Wonder Bread?”

Sylvia chuckled. “Noooo. It just makes you sound normal…trustworthy, umm, someone who could be trusted with my heart.” She smiled and blushed, feeling her face on fire.

“I see,” he returned. “Then by all means, please…call me Shawn,” he offered sincerely. They both stood in silence, his hand stroked up her back in a gentle caress. He wanted to kiss her again. He was about to ask her, but decided against it. Knowing her, she’d say no and back out of his arms, so he lowered his head. Sylvia braced herself, but didn’t move away. The kiss was gentle, soft and compassionate; her favorite kind. Ending it gently, he stroked her lips with his, then pulled back reluctantly. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. I have another job to do, annd…I need to visit my daughter,” he informed her.

Sylvia was surprised. “You have a daughter?”

He nodded, grinning. “Yes I do, and an ex-wife.”

“Oh. How long ago were you married?”

“I was married for six—very—long—years. We’ve been divorced for three years now. My daughter’s nine.”

“Her name?”

“Angela Rae McPherson. My ex-wife’s name is Deidre.”

“They live in California?” she asked.

He nodded to confirm. “Her family has money. After the divorce, she moved back home with them. I stayed there for a while, and as soon as our home sold, I started packing up. I needed to get out of there. It was hard moving away from my daughter, but I figured wherever I was, she would have someplace new to visit.”

Sylvia smiled, pushing off from his biceps to back away from him. “Hey, where you going?” he asked, trying to hold onto her.

“Dessert. Care for some?”

He smiled in a way that she wasn’t about to ask what it meant. So playing it off as if she didn’t see it, she walked to the refrigerator and removed the lemon yogurt cream pie she made the day before.

“What’s that?” he asked over her shoulder, having followed her to the small kitchenette as she sat the pie on the counter, reaching in the drawer for the pie cutter.

“Dessert…it’s good for you. Low in calories. Low in sugar. Contains beneficial bacteria and it’s delicious. One dessert I can eat without a guilty conscious.”

“Hmmm, and what’s wrong with rich, fattening and sweet?”

“Nothing, on occasion. So, how long will you be gone?” she asked, cutting into the pie. Serving him up a large slice, placing it on the salad plate. “A couple of weeks,” he answered, looking her in the face. “Will you miss me?”

She smirked with a shake of her head. “Not at all.”

He chuckled. “Yeah right. You’re gonna miss me and you know it. I’m gonna miss you.”

She rolled her eyes up to look at him sarcastically. “You don’t expect me to really believe that, do you?”

“I sure do. Will you watch my house for me? I won’t even mind you looking through my things. As a matter of fact, if you get bored, there are some boxes that still need to be unpacked.”

“First of all, I have no intention of going through your things. Especially after you’ve given me permission. Which tells me right there, there’s nothing interesting and worth going through.” She grinned, closing the lid over the pie and putting it away in the refrigerator. “As for house-sitting and unpacking and putting away, I don’t work for less than $14 an hour,” she said with a smile, grabbing her dessert and heading for the pit sofa in front of the TV. There she sat, crossed her legs and picked up the remote, and placed it in his lap when he sat next to her with his dessert.

“Man, this is good. I like this,” he commented on the dessert, having cut off the front tip and popped it in his mouth before he sat down.

“Imagine that! And it’s not rich, fattening and overly sweet.” She grinned.

He chuckled. “Oh boy. One of these women who revel in rightness,” he grumbled, clicking the power button on the remote. “Whataya wanna watch?” he asked.

“Remotes in your hand.”

“$14 an hour, hmm?”

“Just kidding. No problem.”

“Will you take me to the airport in Madison, too?”

“We’re just full of requests, aren’t we?” She leaned to the side with a put out expression.

“Please. I’d like that. Otherwise, I’ll have to go alone and leave my vehicle there,” he explained; he made a pitiful expression, giving the puppy dog eyes and long lip.

“We can’t have that. I guess so. What would you have done if there were no me here?”

“Gone alone and left my vehicle. But there is you, and I don’t want to go alone. It would be nice to have you ride with me and see me off at the airport.” Sylvia sighed. Again wondering, how was it that this man had woven himself so thoroughly into her life already?

“What about the woman you have this ‘unsure’ relationship with?”

“I’m no longer unsure. When I return, I’ll end it.”

That didn’t go over so well with Sylvia. In fact, it struck a nerve. “Don’t do me any favors. I mean, yes…we kissed, and true, there’s this thing between us. But maybe you should hold onto your sure thing. After all, I have no intention of sharing my bed with you any time soon. Nor, your bed. So don’t be so quick to cut off your back up,” Sylvie said resentfully. Not sure why she was all of a sudden piqued, Shawn turned surprised, his gaze confused as she charged up from the sofa. “Now what did I say?” he asked weary.

“Just like that!” She snapped her fingers, “You’ll end it! You were unsure and now because of me, which is what you wish me to believe, you’re suddenly sure that you don’t want her…whoever she is!” she ranted, marching off to the sink to deposit her plate. On the way back she continued, “And who’s to say you won’t meet another woman. String her along. Get me in bed, satisfy yourself here and place us on your, ‘unsure relationship’ list? Then you can play her until you’re sure you’ve got her, and then inform me this is the end!”

She returned, standing behind the sofa with her hands on her hips.

“You sure have a low opinion of me,” he expressed softly, turned sideways to look up at her as she stood accusing him. Sylvie wilted then, admitting honestly, “I don’t know you. You’re suddenly in my life. Turning it upside down. Splitting my wood. Shoveling my snow. Cooking me breakfast. And…and…seducing me. And I’m having one heck of a time stopping you. Blocking you from my mind. I don’t have time, nor room in my life or in my heart for games and heartbreak, and I’m scared. Scared that you’re in this because it’s something to do while you’re here,” she finished softly.

They stayed that way for countless moments. Him staring up at her. And Sylvia, with her arms crossed under her breasts as if shielding her heart from him. Finally he stood and walked around the sofa to where she stood, stopping beside her. Nervous and vulnerable, Sylvia stood as his hand gently took her chin and turned her face sideways and up for him to look into her eyes.

“I don’t know what has happened to you to make you so afraid of men. All I do know, is that I want you. I want you in a way that I’ve never wanted a woman before. Only time will prove what I say. So, can you please give me that? Time?”

Sylvia couldn’t answer, but she did give him a slight smile, though sad and unsure. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“10:45am.”

“Well, we better end this party now if we’re going to make that flight in the morning,” she advised.

His knuckles caressed her cheek.

At The Airport…

“Here’s the number to my cell phone, my email address and my instant message identification. Will you be online at 8:30 every night for me?” Shawn informed her and asked as they walked down the long corridor to his departure gate.

“I think I can handle that,” she answered. They made it to the ticket door where they stood in line for him to board the plane. His hand was on her lower back. The smell of his cologne, Devin by Aramis filling her head, tantalizing her senses. She loved the smell of him. He stood tall and striking in his dress attire. A crisply, dry-cleaned white with black stripe shirt, an attractive, multicolored burgundy/black/gray tie, black slacks and suit jacket under a handsome, long black leather. He was breathtaking. Looking at him, once again she wondered had she lost her mind. Sylvia wore her favorite attire. A beige cardigan, long buff suede skirt, and tall leather dress boots under a long, sleek, wool coat with buttons all the way down the front. Her hair up in her tan wool tam.

“Will you miss me while I’m gone, Sylvia?” he asked her again.

Sylvia smiled up at him. “Yes, I’ll miss you.”

That answer satisfied him. “I’m going to miss you, too. Be careful on the drive home.”

She smiled. “I will. You have a safe flight. I guess I’ll see you when you return.”

“We’ll chat tonight, 8:30…remember?” he reminded her as the line moved forward pretty fast.

“Tomorrow night’s soon enough. I already talked to you today,” she simpered.

He gasped. “Woman, you best be online at 8:30. Don’t stand me up.” He was serious.

She sighed again. “Okay…8:30.” They were two away from the ticket clerk. He pulled her up to him for a kiss. Sylvie blushed, but didn’t back away to stop him. The kiss was quick, but complete with tongue and all. Too soon for him, and truthfully, her as well, it was his turn to pass over his ticket and board the plane.

“Talk to you tonight,” he reminded her again.

“Yes, tonight,” she confirmed, stepping away to let the people behind her board. She watched him until he passed through the door, then turned and headed back the way she came. His scent still strong, lingering in her head.

“Aaaah god, this man is going to change my life. Please let it be for the good. Let it be for the good.”

 

End of Episode 4

 

 

 

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Bomaw – Episode 5