Love Won't Let Me Wait Page 2

  Of course Debbie was right about my weekly appointments with Raoul. Raoul and I have been best friends since my eleventh grade year of high school. His architectural firm is located in the building across the street from my office.

  Raoul is single and enjoying that life to the fullest. Although the Foxx does have some of the best fried chicken in Charlotte, that’s not why we meet there once a week. I spent the next hour perusing the Intellica file, before heading off to the conference room for my meeting with Calango.

  I arrived at Emerald’s and spotted Toya’s candy apple red Mercedes parked in the valet area. I conducted a quick recognizance sweep of the parking lot for Shannon’s car. The last thing I needed was for Toya and Shannon to be there together without me there to keep things civil. I would have walked into Emerald’s expecting to see World War III. Luckily I had arrived before Shannon and there was no sight of Toya.

  I was sitting at my favorite table sipping on a glass of merlot, pondering my relationship with Shannon. There were yet unanswered questions regarding the vigor of our bond. Do you love her? Is she really what you’re looking for? As usual I found myself bereft of answers.

  In the midst of my thoughts I noticed Toya standing at the front door of the restaurant waiting to be seated. She wore a snug fitting black skirt that came about three inches above her knees, a white blouse, and a black jacket. I marveled at how well the outfit showed off her figure. Her long toned legs and perfectly rounded hips. Toya is an extremely sexy woman.

  I followed every movement of her 5’9” frame as the maitre’d led her over to the table where I was seated. Her long, brown, curly hair was a perfect complement to her hazel eyes. The slim face and thin lips, along with her light brown complexion betrayed her mixed ancestry. Toya’s grandfather was a White Frenchman who’d come to the Virgin Islands during the early 1900’s. I thought of how often I teased Toya about her “high yellow” complexion when we were kids.

  She approached the table and I gave her an annoyed look, and greeted her with a chastising, “you’re late as usual.”

  “No sweetie,” Toya answered. She then glanced at her watch before looking at me out of the corner of her eyes and sassily replying, “I’m actually three minutes and twenty-seven seconds early. I am not to blame for your obsessive compulsion to be early for everything.”

  I didn’t have a comeback, after all she was right. I stood up and gave her a hug. The inviting smell of Obsession perfume of which she was so fond pervaded my senses.

  As I embraced her my hands surveyed below her waist appraising her butt, before returning unmolested to the small of her back. Her body surged with tension as I ventured below the belt, but as I returned to the small of her back Toya relaxed. She leaned back, still restricted by my embrace, and looked at me with a pretense of embarrassment. As Toya and I stood staring at each other, I caught a glimpse of Shannon entering the restaurant. She was looking directly at Toya and me locked in embrace. I hastily discharged Toya and moved towards Shannon to greet her. She was wearing a tight fitting red dress that flowed over her body like fine Chinese silk. I watched her walk towards me following her every move, hypnotized by the sultry rhythm of her body’s motion. I reached out and hugged her.

  “Hey, baby, how’s your day going?”

  “Fine, is that her?” Shannon had one thing on her mind and that was to meet Toya or as she sometimes referred to her: “the other woman in my life”.

  “Yeah, come on let me introduce you.” I turned and walked back towards the table. Shannon sauntered behind me. Toya stood to greet us.

  “Hi, Shannon, I’m Toya, nice to finally meet you.”

  “Nice meeting you too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” They shook hands and exchanged polite smiles before we all sat down.

  For the remainder of our lunch I sat amazed at how cordial Shannon and Toya were being towards each other. I wondered if they were being nice to each other for my sake or if they really were enjoying each other’s company. They talked to and about me some, but mostly they talked about each other. Ex-boyfriends, favorite places to shop, the funniest TV shows and movies, you name it they covered it. Girl this, girlfriend that. The way they were carrying on you would have sworn they were long lost friends.

  I sat and observed these two beautiful women enjoying each other’s company, and felt stupid. I thought of how sexist and conceited I had been in assuming that these two intelligent women could not meet me for lunch without a catfight breaking out. Lunch went without a hitch. No dirty looks or off-color comments. If Shannon and Toya disliked each other, they were doing a damn good job of faking it.

  Before I knew it lunch was over. Toya and Shannon shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I walked Toya to her car, gave her a hug, and promised to call her later that evening. I felt pretty good about the day’s events as I watched her get into her car and drive off. I turned and walked back to where Shannon was standing and gave her a robust hug and kiss.

  “I really appreciate you being nice to Toya, but don’t you think you overdid it a little?” Shannon chuckled in response.

  “Well, I know that she is important to you and besides she seemed nice enough.”

  “I’m glad you two got along. I’ll be honest with you that was not what I expected.” Shannon placed both hands on her hips, and a perturbed look on her face.

  “What were you expecting a catfight?”

  “No, but did you expect to get along with Toya as well as you did?”

  “I kept an open mind.” She looked down at her feet shifting her body from side to side uncomfortably as if her shoes were too tight.

  “Well, thank you for being cordial.” I kissed her on the cheek and her demeanor yielded.

  We decided to take the rest of the day off. It was a gorgeous day outside and we opted to go for a walk. I held her hand as we strolled around Lake Archer in Archer Park just east of downtown Charlotte. We weren’t doing much talking, both opting instead to enjoy the comforting silence of the other’s company.

  I gazed at the water as we walked, still and unusually clear. The breeze blew slightly, just enough to offset the afternoon sun. We sat down on an empty park bench about two feet from the lake. I gazed at Shannon’s reflection on the water and thought to myself how beautiful she was.

  Her reflection on the water’s surface warmed my body and I couldn’t help but smile. Shannon’s dark-brown skin and Asian eyes gave way to the features of her Indian heritage. She looked over at me and saw that I was smiling.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing, just thinking.” I could tell she was curious and I planned to make her beg me to tell.

  “You’re thinking about something or you wouldn’t be smiling.”

  “I was… nah it’s nothing.”

  “Please tell me, baby.” Shannon’s curiosity was getting the best of her and I took pleasure in watching it.

  “Baby, it’s nothing really.” She was visibly vexed.

  “I hate when you do that,” she fretted, shifting her body away from me.

  “Okay, damn, no need to get snippy, I’ll tell you.”

  “I was just looking at your reflection on the lake and thinking to myself how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am.”

  She turned her body towards me. I sought concession in the warmth of her eyes but she turned away. I touched her cheek, lightly stroking it with the backside of my hand. Her skin was soft and smooth. Shannon placed her hand over mine, pulled my hand to her lips and kissed me on the palm, soft and sensuous. The touch of her lips sent a chill resonating throughout my entire body. I traced her lips with my fingertips and ran my fingers down to her chin, slowly, gently, pulling her lips towards mine.

  As our lips touched I could taste the sweetness of her lipstick. I shivered with pleasure. Our lips parted and I looked into Shannon’s eyes. When I did, it was the first time I knew without a doubt that I loved her.

  I drove Shannon to her car parked back at the restaurant. As she was c
limbing out of the truck I reached out and squeezed her butt.

  “Hmm, someone doesn’t have on any drawers.”

  “Yes I do, it’s called a thong sweetie.”

  “Well, I was talking about that old lady over there. She’s kind of fly too. Oh, you thought I meant you?” Shannon laughed and leaned into the window of my truck. “You know I don’t have on any drawers either.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to see for myself later.”

  “Maybe, if you’re lucky,” I answered.

  Shannon leaned over and licked me on my earlobe. As she walked away she yelled over her shoulder, “you just be at my house by eight.”

  I ran a few errands while driving through downtown Charlotte. I thought about heading back to the office for an hour or two to catch up on paperwork. I glanced at my wristwatch; it was almost four-thirty. I had three and a half hours to kill before meeting Shannon.

  I turned right on Main and pulled into an open parking lot in front of the Blue Room. As I exited my truck Raoul called to cancel our seven-thirty appointment at the Foxx. I was going to have to cancel anyway since I’d made plans with Shannon. His call was a welcome respite from my role as the variable wingman prone to renege on the best planned male excursions.

  The Blue Room is a popular jazz club that caters to the young professional crowd. I stopped for a brief moment at the entrance to chat with Bull, the doorman.

  Bull is an ex defensive lineman for the New York Jets. He lost most of the money he earned as a football player to bad investments and a crooked accountant. He is part owner of the Blue Room and a pretty cool guy. He was born and raised in Greensboro but moved to Charlotte after finishing his career. Bull was standing in his familiar position just inside the doorway, his receding hairline separated from the ceiling by about ten inches of air.

  I was making my way towards the bar in the back of the club when I spotted Josh seated near the stage in the front of the club. He was smoking a cigar and drinking champagne. I couldn’t make out what, but if I had to guess, I would say Moet and a Corona.

  The place was lively, particularly given the time of day. It was packed wall to wall. Even the couches that lined the hallway leading to the restrooms were occupied by guys trying to get the attention of the females that were making their way back there to handle their business. If you were interested in making the acquaintance of a young professional woman the Blue Room was definitely the spot to frequent. From the looks of things I wasn’t the only one playing hooky from work this afternoon.

  Josh and I played ball together in college and had remained close friends ever since. He lives in Columbus, Georgia and comes to town about once a month on business. He’s the Regional Marketing Director for Viltex Sportswear.

  I walked over to the humidor located near the bar. I’m not much of a smoker but on occasion I would indulge and smoke or chew on a nice Lonsdale. I picked out a Presidente and ordered a glass of cognac from the bar.

  As I was making my way towards Josh’s table I stopped to greet one of my fraternity brothers standing near the dance floor. I had met Mark a couple of days after arriving in Charlotte. I chatted with him for a few minutes, before continuing towards the front of the club to Josh’s table. I slid into the chair next to Josh.

  “What’s up, big man?” Josh looked at me, a broad smile plastered across his face.

  “Nothing, dude, just working hard as usual.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I answered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How long have you been in town?”

  “About twenty minutes. I’m about to go get my mack on.”

  “Whatever. You are the most shit-talking, non-macking cat I know.” Josh did a lot of talking to and about women. He fancied himself a player of sorts. But for all of his flirting, that’s as far as it went. In the six years since he and Stacie were married, he has never once cheated on her, and believe me he has had plenty of opportunity.

  “I am the mack!” Josh insisted while taking a puff of his cigar

  “Yeah, okay, how’s Stacey?”

  “You know, same ol, same ol. How’s your girl?”

  “Who Shannon?” Josh stared at me his face communicating his annoyance. I took a sip of my drink.

  “Last time I checked that was your girl, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, were still kicking it.” It was obvious that Josh was attempting to read into my lackadaisical response by the way that he was studying my facial expression. I was being purposely evasive, trying to annoy him.

  “Yeah, well I like her. So don’t fuck this one up too okay.” He slowly rolled his cigar between his fingers before returning it to his mouth.

  “Anyway, how long are you in town for?” I asked changing the subject. Josh took a long pull on his cigar.

  “Three days. Are we hanging out or what?” I glanced at my wristwatch. It was almost five o’clock.

  “Yeah, I have about two hours, let’s hit the Foxx.”

  “We can do that,” Josh answered. As much as I liked hanging at the Foxx, I was just killing time until eight and my date with Shannon. I knew Josh would be down for a little action at the strip club.

  “We can bounce as soon as I finish my drink,” I offered.

  The Ladyfoxx is an upscale gentleman’s club catering mostly to a professional clientele. Everyone from entertainers to professional athletes and politicians could be found ho-humming within its stately confines.

  The Foxx is famous for its food, the chicken wings being of particular note. It isn’t uncommon to see a husband and wife dining together. Or, a table occupied by a mother and daughter tandem. But what most come to the Foxx for is the roster of the prettiest and sexiest dancers in the southeastern United States. They import dancers from clubs all over the world. Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, the Foxx has them in all shades and flavors. But more importantly they are all fine as hell.

  The interior of the Foxx resembles more a stateroom at a Vegas resort than a typical strip club. The tables along the walls are private, separated by tinted glass partitions. The more public tables around the open floor and the runway provide a full view of the club. The chairs are all leather and very comfortable. The dim lighting is provided by three chandeliers strategically positioned in the middle of the room and away from the tables, above the long catwalk. Two spotlights illuminate the two side-stages. The Foxx has several VIP rooms on the second floor overlooking the stages, but we never use them. All the real action takes place on the floor level.

  We picked out a table near the bar and I ordered another glass of Courvoisier. As usual, Josh had a glass of Moet. He was updating me concerning his marriage when I noticed a waitress walking towards our table. I was pretty certain she was new as I couldn’t recall seeing her there before. She was petite and brown-skinned with long, black, curly hair. She had a beautiful, broad smile and alluring eyes. Her legs were endless and tantalizing. Josh was flirting with her before she could fully make it over to our table. His smile was so broad it threatened to split his cheeks from ear to ear.

  She had a nice figure, and an even nicer demeanor. Her name was Mahogany. Josh was in full mack-mode and I didn’t have a chance to get a word in after hi. It wasn’t a big deal though. I wasn’t interested. Besides, I hadn’t been able to get Shannon out of my mind since I’d left her at the restaurant. I was highly anticipating our date later that evening. I did however appreciate the natural beauty of a woman like Mahogany.

  I again glanced at my watch, only two and a half hours until my date with Shannon. Mahogany was walking away from our table and I made an observation. She had the shapeliest ass I had seen in quite some time. Josh was giving me a non-stop monologue of his macking theory as I continued to watch her, marveling at her assets.

  “You see what I’m saying,” Josh continued. “You have to know how to read women. It’s an art. Take for instance our waitress, Mahogany. She is no doubt the tightest woman in here. She could make a lot more money stripping than she does as a waitress. She’s
already working in a strip club. Plus, she’s wearing a g-string. Why not just be a stripper and get paid?”

  “Maybe she is a stripper and just waitresses between sets,” I retorted. I eyed Josh for a moment, challenging his assessment.

  “Nah,” Josh answered confidently. He was really feeling it now. The last thing you want to do is have Josh thinking you are actually listening to his babble and even worse agreeing with it. Big mistake! “I’ll tell you why she is waitressing and not stripping.” He leaned forward in his chair as if preparing to tell me a secret. “See, she’s the shy, freaky type. This way she can still get the attention of dudes like you and me, without having to shake her ass on stage to do it. Add that to the natural intrigue that’s created by her being one of the only women with some sort of clothing on in a club full of butt-naked dancers, and she’s getting even more attention. Why? Because curiosity is killing you. You know right now every man in here is dying to see her get on stage and shake that ass; she’s eating that shit up. You feeling me?” Josh asked, almost begging for my acknowledgement. It was five forty-two. I would have to be leaving soon to get ready for my date with Shannon. “Hey, man, are you listening to me?”

  “Josh, you are out of control. But I’ll give you a little bit of play on that.”

  “You know I’m right.” My halfhearted acknowledgement brought a look of supreme satisfaction to Josh’s face. He folded his arms and leaned back against the couch puffing on his cigar. Josh is a big guy. He played fullback in college. His massive physique, bald head and powerful voice were in stark contrast to his warm smile and southern mannerisms. “I’m trying to school you cat, you need to be taking notes. This type of info is top secret shit and I’m giving it to you for free.”

  “Josh, for the last time. I had more game than you in college, and I have more game than you now.” Josh looked at me out of the corner of his eye, his finger tapping the champagne glass as he weighed my last statement; a smile slowly crept across his face.