Roxie paused as she passed me and ran her tongue across my lips. I didn’t reciprocate. “You’re going to miss me. Let’s hope you come to your senses before I do find someone else.” She grabbed my dick through my pants, then let it go. “This is far from over.”
After she walked out, I slammed my office door. I was pissed. How dare she think that I would still want to have anything to do with her?
I called the bank and asked for Rayne. She sounded lovely on the phone and I asked her, “So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing,” she replied.
“How about dinner and a movie?”
“What time?”
“You name it?”
“How about eight o’clock? Is that too late?” she asked.
“No, that’s perfect. See you then.” I was about to hang up when it dawned on me. “Hold up, I need your address so I can pick you up.”
Rayne gave me her address and then we said our goodbyes. The rest of my day went smoothly. I had nothing but pleasant thoughts about seeing Rayne on my mind.
Twenty-one
Rayne
Valentine’s Day
Yardley and I had been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. Even though we were taking things slowly—meaning we weren’t sexing each other down—I felt myself getting emotionally attached to him. I’d never dated a man who could stimulate me on so many different levels. I felt so comfortable with him and found myself opening up to him with ease.
No matter what topic I brought up, he was knowledgeable on the subject; even makeup, which had completely shocked me. Actually, I was a bit panicky when we’d gone to Nordstrom’s together and Yardley seemed to know more about the MAC cosmetics line than me. For a brief moment, I wondered if he might’ve been one of those metrosexual men that Ricki Lake had been discussing; one of those “iffy” men. After what had happened on my date with Kahlil, I was much edgier about men being sweet, acting sweet, and talking sweet. This book had also just hit the market about men being on the downlow—black men in particular—and sisters were starting to scrutinize brothers closely.
I’d actually sat at home one evening making a list of all the men I’d ever dated and any behavior patterns they’d had that could’ve been signs of loving to intake dick as much as I did. I’d come up with a list of five possibles; men I’d crossed paths with that might’ve been slapping dicks with friends. I was disgusted. As far as Yardley, I’d decided that he was definitely all man and probably simply knew a lot about makeup so he could purchase it for women he was feeling. Since he was feeling me, I was hoping he’d hit the MAC counter hard on my behalf before it was all said and done.
Don’t get me wrong. I could afford my own stuff but it was always nice to receive gifts as well. For years, I’d never wanted birthday gifts or Christmas presents. I wasn’t used to receiving them. Momma never felt the need to buy me things. She was too worried about buying things for herself. She wasn’t like traditional mothers—single mothers especially—who’d save up money to layaway toys and clothing to make sure their children were happy. I’d never believed in Santa Claus. The first time I’d come home from prekindergarten excited because the teacher had read a book to us about Santa Claus, Momma told me, “His ass don’t exist! Don’t be expecting nothing special for Christmas ’cause I’m flat broke!”
I was the opposite of Momma. I had a very giving heart. I was always the giver and generally, my mother had become the main receiver. I did a lot for Chance as well and she appreciated it; unlike Momma. In fact, one time Chance decided to treat me to a day at the Red Door Spa and I was in torment when it came to allowing it. Chance finally convinced me by stating that “a person who always gives must also learn to receive because otherwise, they’ll never know how special they make others feel.” Chance could get deep like that sometimes. She was also an excellent poet with a collection of poems to rival many of the greats. I used to try to encourage her to do spoken word at some of the local clubs but she wasn’t even having it. Crazy as she was and as much as she loved to run her mouth, she was shy in front of crowds.
Speaking of running mouths, she and I were sitting at our desks on Valentine’s Day doing just that.
“So what are you and Ricky doing tonight?” I asked as I watched a pair of lovers walking down the street through the picture window of the bank.
It was amazing. People who fought like cats and dogs on other days would be filled with adoration on Valentine’s Day—if only for one day.
Chance had spotted them also and commented, “Aw, aren’t they cute?”
“Yeah, they are,” I replied and sighed. I couldn’t wait to see Yardley later on. “Again, so what are you and Ricky doing?”
“Probably the same thing we did last year.”
“Which was?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“No.” I smacked my lips. “Why would I keep tabs on what you and Ricky do?”
Chance giggled. “We’re going to do some role-playing?”
“Role-playing?”
“Yes. This year we’re going to try something we saw on cable.”