“Um, let’s see, I pretty much offered you my coochie and you were like no thank you, but how about we go out to eat. I feel ridiculous, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face you again,” I put my hands over my face in embarrassment.
“Women hear what they want. Did I tell you that I didn’t want what you were offering, or did I ask you if I could take you to dinner before you give it to me? I don’t want to snatch your soul on an empty stomach, you need your strength,” he laughed causing me to roll my eyes and smirk.
“I don’t even want it anymore,” I lied as I stuck my lips out like a brat.
“Of course you do. Would you like me to meet you so I can take you to dinner or would you like for me to come get you?” he asked me. I smiled so hard, my face felt like it was about to fall off.
“Where would you like me to meet you sir?” I asked as I tried my hardest to relax my face muscles before they became frozen in a smile like the Joker.
“You just called me sir? Yeah, you want me bad,” he laughed causing me to laugh loudly and slap the same steering wheel I had been banging before he called back.
“Where do you want me to meet your cocky ass before I change my mind?” I retorted.
“Alpharetta Steak house 9:30 the reservation will be under the name Welsh. Don’t be late either,” he added and I could tell that he was smirking because of the inflection in his voice.
“I might arrive a little late just to piss you off,” I retorted before ending the call in his face.
I threw the phone in the passenger seat and giggled loudly in excitement. I was looking forward to seeing him, and I knew that my daddy would be proud of me for following his advice. I grabbed my things and got out of the car running in the house quickly so I could get ready. It was already 5pm and I had no idea what I was going to wear. I wanted something that said, “I can have a casual fling and not catch feelings because I’m a boss ass bitch,” and I only had a few hours to curl my hair, do makeup, shave, and leave the house in time to make it at 9:30. I wasn’t exactly close to Alpharetta and with Atlanta’s traffic the drive would take no less than forty-five minutes.
I flew into the house like a tornado destroying everything in her path. I flew upstairs, started the tub, and went into my room so I could take out a few options. By seven-thirty I hadshowered, shaved, done my hair and makeup but I couldn’t get my outfit together and I planned to leave the house at 8:30. I sighed loudly and stepped out of another option before throwing it in the center of the floor. The black dress was too serious, the orange one was too damn bright, and the white one made me look like a virgin.
“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO FIND A DRESS THAT SAYS I CAN FUCK CASUALLY AND NOT CATCH FEELINGS?” I screamed like a mad woman as I went back over to my closet. I pulled out a cream-colored dress, and it looked like I was about to have a business meeting.
“Well, you are about to discuss the business of him getting this pussy,” I shrugged as I turned from side to side admiring myself in the mirror. I sighed before undoing the buttons and going back to my closet. When I spotted a green dress that I had never worn but bought impulsively, I smirked. It was a little risky, deep plunging neckline, high split, multiple greens, it was an attention grabber for sure. I slipped into it and admired the way it hugged my hips, made my breasts look perfectly perky, and made my ass sit exactly right.
“This is the one,” I said to myself as I grabbed my gold Tom Ford heels, some gold accessories, and a gold clutch purse. I sprayed a few drops of BabyCat by Yves Saint Laurent, then stood in front of my mirror admiring the finished product.
“Have fun and enjoy yourself. Men do this all the time. You are successful, sexy, and not looking for a husband. This is simply a fun time with a friend.” I coached myself as my stomach fluttered like I was seventeen. I looked down at my phone and the time read 8:30, an hour passed like five minutes. I grabbed my keys from the dish and flew out of the door as quickly as I came into it a few hours earlier.
Twenty minutes later, I was in Atlanta traffic fighting for my life. The closer I got to Midtown, the slower everything moved. Brake lights stretched for miles while the skyline glowed brighter with every passing minute. I honked the horn and switched lanes aggressively while singing my heart out to SZA. When I reached valet the time on the radio flashed, 9:54pm. I smirked, feeling good about myself. I wanted to be late but not obnoxiously late.
“Perfect,” I muttered proudly.
The valet opened my door.
“Evening, ma’am.”
I handed him the keys before smoothing invisible wrinkles from my dress. My palms were suddenly sweaty, and I had to remind myself that I needed to get a grip. It was just dinner and a fuck afterwards; it wasn’t a damn marriage interview. I walked through the doors like I owned the place. I had heard great things about this steakhouse, and the ambiance was definitely living up to the hype. To get inside the restaurant you had to walk through a large bank vault door. Red lighting inside of the vault illuminated the room and both walls were covered in flowers. At the end of the tunnel, there was an opportunity for a photo op. The large restaurant sign hung overhead and there was a group of girls taking each other’s pictures in front of the sign. I smiled at them and walked past as I stepped inside. The hostess greeted me, standing at a little table, dressed in black and white with a red bow tie.
“Reservation?” she asked politely as she smiled.
“Reservation for Welsh,” I replied as I smoothed my dress down again even though I had only walked one mile since the last time I smoothed it down.
“You look amazing, and your party is on the top floor. You are going to take this elevator to fourteen and as soon as you step off there will be someone there to show you to your table.” She winked at me and nodded towards the elevator. I exhaled, equally annoyed and impressed. Of course, Zumo chose the top floor. He couldn’t be normal and just take me for a quick bite so we could get to the bedroom, he had to be extra and want to romance a bitch. I sighed as I stepped onto the elevator and the doors slid shut. My reflection stared back at me from the polished steel walls and I checked my lipstick. I adjusted my earrings and turned from side to side modeling my dress in the mirror.
“You own a multi-million-dollar business,” I reminded my reflection. She looked like she was still unsure and the elevator was only on floor three so since I still had eleven floors to go, I decided to double down on the positive self-talk.
“You are a boss ass bitch Brick. You are the one that negotiates contracts, fires people, deals with contractors twice your size, and signs the checks. You took a struggling family business and turned it into a masterpiece. You have no reason to be intimidated by a little juicing ass man,” I told myself as my eyes shifted nervously over to the numbers on the panel and I was now on floor eleven. I wiped my palms on my dress and checked my lipstick again. The thought of Zumo made my heart speed up just slightly. He wasn’t some contractor that had to do what I told him to do. He wasn’t my little brother whose messes I cleaned up. I already knew that the hardest part about fucking with Zumo was relinquishing control.
“Well luckily for you, you don’t want him to be your nigga, you just want the D.” I shrugged.
I didn’t even entertain the thought of wanting more with a man like him even though he had amazing qualities. I foundmyself mentally listing the things I liked about him like, I did not intimidate him, he hadn’t treated me like competition, and he had taken a burden off my shoulders without making me feel weak for letting him. He was fine as hell, twice my size, and successful. Those were all admirable things, but they were also things that could be used against me if I allowed myself to get too close. Yes, just a friendly fuck, and a cordial neighborly wave in passing was all I needed him to give me.
The elevator chimed finally and the doors slid open. When I stepped out, I was greeted by warm lighting spilled across polished hardwood floors, soft jazz floating through the room, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the entire Atlanta skyline, and a waiter standing there smiling waiting to show me to the table. It was breathtaking.
“Hi, reservation for Welsh? Let me show you to your table, your other party has already arrived,” the waiter said as he turned so I could follow him. I walked through the room, heels clanking, people laughing, drinks clanking, and expensive perfumes mingling with the scent of the sweet aroma of sustenance. This place felt elite. It felt like you couldn’t be just anybody to be here. It felt like limited access. When I arrived at the table, Zumo was sitting there with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He looked like temptation. A white button-down shirt, folded at the elbows, a few buttons undone showing his tattoos on his chest. A gold necklace laid perfectly against his skin and all I could picture was the necklace dangling in my face. He stood up to greet me like a gentleman and dark denim hugged his long legs, he wore black boots, a gold watch, and his cologne swirled around me in the perfect scent bubble causing my knees to slightly wobble. He looked even better out of uniform. He was rugged enough to be masculine, but his beard was neatlytrimmed, nails clean, and his skin was glowing like he exfoliated regularly.
His eyes slowly traveled from my heels to my legs, to my waist, stopped at my breast, then settled on my face. He was blatantly checking me out and I was tempted to clear my throat but before I could, a slow grin spread across his lips.
