“Gorgeous?”
“Sorry. I’ve been drinking.”
“I can tell,” she says. “Well… I’m not in a good place to meet a man right now.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask her. “So you’re not going to tell me your name because you’re in a bad place. That’s new.”
For a moment, all the drunken bliss vanishes from her face. She has a pretty round face with soft, full lips and long hair in a thick ass afro-textured hair.
“My husband died today.”
What the fuck? The smile returns to her face. I think she’s a little tipsy, but I can’t tell if she’s joking or just trying to get meto stop talking to her. The look on her face made that comment seem serious.
“Are you serious?”
“I’m drunk,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. Aricia. I’m a lawyer.”
A lawyer? Is it bad that I think she’s kind of hot to be a lawyer? No offense, but I never met a female lawyer who looks like Aricia. She’s naturally pretty with long dark eyelashes and a smile so fucking sexy it could knock me unconscious.
“What kind? Criminal defense?”
“I mostly take on the firm’s family law clients. My husband takes… My husband used to take on the criminal defense clients.”
Interesting. She holds her liquor pretty well for a drunk woman, I’ll be honest. I don’t know if I buy this story about the husband. Women can lie just as easily as men can, if not more easily… But she’s hot enough that I want to believe her about that dead criminal defense attorney husband.
If he’s alive… I’ll put him on retainer after fucking his wife.
“Your dead husband?”
Her face changes again. “Yes.”
Again, the strange shell-shocked look on her face when she says “yes” makes me believe this isn’t a joke or a twisted lie told by a skank trying to step out on her husband. Strange response to her husband dying today, I’ll be honest.
“I see.”
“I’m only here because my friend Rana convinced me that what happened today was traumatic.”
I want to reach out and touch her so badly it hurts. I stand a few inches closer, planning to buy her at least three tequila shotsor however many it takes to slide her out of that form-fitting Calvin Klein work dress.
“So you’re drinking the pain away?” I tease her, keeping Aricia’s intense gaze. She must have everybody in those courtrooms wrapped around her finger.Damn, she’s fine. I’m a sane, red-blooded man with no particular preference for one skin tone or another but…
There’s something about a woman who has this deep, very dark brown skin color with those mahogany undertones that gets my dick hard. Her exotic complexion and the rich shade of color makes me want to reach my hand out and touch what will surely be soft, supple skin. Most black women have the softest skin you’ve ever touched…
What? Just because I’m not as stupid as my brother Michael and never had anyone caught or hurt doesn’t mean I discriminated in my past. We live in Buffalo, New York and there are plenty of fine ass black women who I’ve seen and even chased over the years – even if most of them wanted nothing to do with a white boy, much less an Italian involved with the mob.
That usually kills all desire for most black women who don’t see the sense in leaving the comforts of their culture for criminal troubles with a white man. In some strange way, I feel lucky that Aricia is a lawyer… She might have a higher tolerance for my illegal activities because of her job.
Quietly, I calculate.
“Yes,” she nods after finishing her drink and giving me the opportunity to offer her another one. My heart pounds with excitement and my dick becomes semi-stiff at the possibility of dragging this woman off into my bedroom for the night.
“Lawyers. You all work hard and play hard.”
“It’s the only way to get through law school.”
I glance over my shoulder at Flora. Aricia catches me looking and then wrinkles up her face.
“Hold on… If this is some swinger, sex freak situation, I’m not interested,” Aricia said, her mood cycling to disgust and outrage. The one thing that makes her drunkenness and trauma seem more believable is how rapidly she cycles through her moods.
