We had no choice but to get to know each other better and Iknew I liked what I got (even though he wasn’t much of a talker, and as thedays went by, he got quieter and quieter due to his patience waning more andmore).
I also knew he liked what he got.
From when we first met, Mo didn’t need words to communicate.And the increase in dancing silver eyes and the addition of soft looks he’dgive me…
Man.
Yeah.
This had to end soon.
Mo’s ticking time bomb thing also had to do with the big lugwanting to sleep with me.
And by the by, Iadoredthat he’d referred to itduring our Come to Jesus as making love.
But he was very much all guy, and men needed to get some, hewas sleeping in my room, living in my home, watching me strip.The need for himto do me was so strong, it had a taste, it had a smell, it had a feel, it wasconstant and grew more powerful every day.
Not being able to take it there had to be torture.
I knew, because it was torture for me too.
And it was getting worse every day.
Last, but I had a feeling this was the biggest part, Mo’simpatience had a sharp edge that I did not think had to do with him wanting totake me out to dinner and ask my favorite color then take me home and fuck mestupid.
It had to do with the fact that this guy hadn’t been caughtyet and there was something really not good about that.
I didn’t ask.If Mo felt I needed to know, or wanted me toknow, he would tell me.
More, I was thinking it was another way he was protectingme.And he was that guy.He needed to give that to me.
So even though none of this made me want to jump for joy, Ididn’t push it with him.
Like I didn’t tell him his grip was too tight and that heneeded to slow down or I’d break my neck on my platform stripper shoes while hedragged me to the dressing room.A place I knew, because he communicated(nonverbally) he thought was a safe zone, unlike the stage (definitely) and thehall, and anywhere else that was accessible or visible to people he might notknow.
I just moved with him as fast as I could.
He used the hand he did not have on me to pound on the doortwice, bellowed, “Man coming in!”and as he was hesitating the two seconds healways gave it so the girls could get situated before he went in, I spoke.
“I’m good, Mo.Safe.Sound.Healthy.Right here.With you.You’ve got me.Yeah?”
He looked down at me and allowed me to see some of theharshness bleed out of his face.
Not all of it, but some of it.
I’d take it.
Then he pushed us into the dressing room.
Strippers poured out as we went in, and once in, Mo let mego and shut the door behind the last girl.
I finally tied my belt on my robe.
“Shit,” he said.
I looked up at him then turned my attention to where his wasand saw Carla wearing her robe, platforms off, sitting at her makeup station,holding a bag of ice to her ankle.
I rushed her way.“Ohmigod, girl!What happened?”
