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“You didn’t want to work with her?”
“No, ma’am. I like to make my own mark in the world.”
“I like that.” I smile with admiration. “But your professional choice was mainly influenced by your family’s tradition, right?”
“Definitely, but I love my job. Thrive on it.”
“I hear you’re great.”
“My dad says I’m so stubborn that I’m excellent at anything I put my mind into.”
I laugh lightly: “stubborn is right! Mr. ‘I don’t take no for an answer’!”
His voice goes low once again, his look burning into me: “You’re wrong, Nia: I do take no for an answer. It’s just that with you I could see the genuine answer was yes.”
The shivers return all over my body. Our easy camaraderie dissolved in an instant. Our eyes stay connected a few seconds too long… and I’m saved by the return of the server with the desserts. This girl deserves a huge tip!
I give myself a sturdy mental pep talk: no moaning, eyes closing, lip biting or any other sort of delicious-food induced-slutting!! But as soon as I take the first bite of cream pie, my eyelids flutter, fighting the urge to close and shut down the world, so I can focus on the smell of brown sugar, the taste of custard, and the velvety feel of the crust on my tongue.
Josh starts chuckling as he observes my struggle: “please, don’t choke on it. I’ll just enjoy the show and try my best to restrain from participating.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip of coffee. Josh is savoring his tea, watching me over the edge of his cup.
He glances at the discreet but luxurious watch on his wrist and asks: “would you like to go get a drink before calling it a night?” I’m startled at his question: I was so caught up in our time together, I didn’t realize dinner was reaching its conclusion… Empty dishes and crumbs are now scattered on our initially impeccable table. I bite my lip, thinking I don’t want the night to end just yet, but also wondering if prolonging it would be such a good idea…
Josh
“I can’t, Josh: I’m sorry, this was a mistake… I didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m really sorry!”
My eyebrows furrow in surprised confusion: “Nia, what’s wrong? I don’t understand… You seemed comfortable a few seconds ago…”
“I’m sorry…” is all she says.
“Did I do or say something?”
“No, no!” She shakes her head with vehemence. “You were perfect. Everything was perfect! It’s just… Please Josh,” she pleads.
I scrutinize her lovely face for a few beats, trying to read her, then I nod resolutely before confessing: “Nia, I think you’re gorgeous, smart, funny, and simply all kinds of amazing… I’d like to get to know you, and I want you in my bed. I have never felt such a powerful pull for a woman. And I’m not only talking about our incredible chemistry. I see the same thing in your eyes… Where is this coming from, sweetheart? I honestly don’t understand. We were having a great time. You were having fun, you were relaxed. I don’t know you well enough to read this reaction. You’ve got to help me out, here. Give me something to work with…”
I pair my soft-spoken words with a light touch on the back of her hand that’s resting on the table. I look at our hands: her smaller, smooth-skinned and velvety chocolate, fingers with their pastel nail polish resting on the white tablecloth; my big hand, with just a single finger extended to graze Nia’s skin.
“I feel something special, too.”
I hold my breath, not making a sound, not wanting to scare her off, handling her like a wounded wild animal.
“But I can’t, Josh. I’m sorry.”
I slowly shake my head, then take her hand: “did someone hurt you, love?”
When I look up from our joined fingers, I see the server is back with the tab. I pull out my credit card and throw Nia a stern look when she attempts to reach for her purse. She raises her palms in an appeasing gesture, offering me a sad little smile. After I’ve paid and she’s thanked me, to which I respond with a brief nod, I rise from the table and help her out. I clasp her hand as we walk to the car, my step just long and fast enough that she has to trot behind.
I slide into the driver’s seat and grip the wheel with both hands. We just sit like that for a while: me, looking straight ahead, my knuckles whitening on the dark wood I’m gripping, the car still parked in the dark street… Then I twist to face Nia, and frame her face with my large hands, softly. My thumbs caress her cheeks, my long fingers gently cradling her head, weaving through her soft curls.
Eyes never leaving hers, I whisper: “I want to try something, honey.”
The storm has receded. Slowly, I bend my head toward hers, and before she can pull away, my lips land on her delicious mouth in a light caress.
I detach my mouth from hers, watching Nia carefully, and ask: “OK?”
