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Stunning as a supermodel, she waltzes through the glass door leading completely inside, greeting the hostess with a head nod and cheeky grin. She’s wearing an earth-toned top with black jeans, locs cascading freely to her shoulders. Yeah, the five-minute delay was definitely worth it. Because honey came through with the looks. For real. I watch her intensely like a hawk, standing there like a mega star waiting to sign autographs. Looking like that, I wouldn’t mind signing my initials on her lips with the tip of my tongue.
When she finally spots me, we exchange looks of adoration until she approaches. Her hips sway with a hypnotic pulse as she makes a superstar entrance, mesmerizing the entire restaurant. Her perfume is a monster on its own, getting to the table before she does. The sweet scent paralyzes me in my seat, making me want to take a taste of her entire body.
“Hey, you,” she softly quips, “Sorry I’m late. The police had the damn street blocked off.”
My face breaks into a comforting smile because I knew there had to be a reason. She places her purse down on the opposite end of the table before strolling over to give me a peace-inducing hug. The unification of our skin raises the temperature of the entire restaurant. Her fragrance grows even stronger, drowning me in paradise. Nothing like a great smelling woman. I swear I could’ve stood there hugging her forever. Once we separate, she plops down, grabbing onto the menu.
“It’s okay, I haven’t even ordered yet.”
“Oh, okay. Good, good,” she looks over the menu long enough for us to blink before quickly putting it down to focus instead on me, “You look amazing, by the way.”
She makes me feel like freshly baked bread, warm all over.
“Well, thank you. I can say the same for you. I love that top.”
Morgan’s blushing hard, “I appreciate you. It’s actually brand new. I figured today would be a perfect day to wear it.”
“You figured correctly then.”
Words cease for a spell while we eye fuck each other. I can honestly see why she has a ring on her finger. Between her beauty, hustle, and overall sex appeal, who wouldn’t marry a baddie like her? I’d marry her ten times over if I had the chance. Elope. Run away with her. Whatever. My chance to speak again, however, gets cut off after Michelle returns to the table for our order. I allow Morgan to go first, looking down at my phone right as a new message from Makai pops up.
My Stupid Ass Ex: What are you doing at Build a Breakfast?
Perfectly bad timing. As always. Just like a nigga to ruin a vibe without even being there. I should’ve predicted he’d do that. A beast that feeds on attention is always hungry. Somehow, he always seems to coincidentally find me whenever I'm out. Which is strange because he doesn’t even have my location anymore. I cut that shit off immediately after we broke up. So, it’s honestly creepy as fuck. My first intention is to ignore him completely, looking back up to see Morgan gawking at me and waiting for me to order.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I squeal, forcing myself to smile away my clear irritation, “Um, I'll do the Stuffed French Toast. Extra side of fruit.”
I hand off my menu to Michelle while throwing Morgan a comforting grin. Trying my hardest not to let Makai’s bullshit ruin this for me. Not this time. Yet, he texts me again anyway. I know it’s him without even looking because if I don’t respond to one message, the asshole just sends more until I do. I’m buzzing with annoyance. Gritting my teeth to stop from frowning. Morgan’s busy pouring creamer into her coffee, stirring her mug as she does.
“You’ve been here before, right?” she questions, adjusting her hair away from her face.
“Oh, yeah,” I reply, leaning forward with my hands folded, “Plenty of times.”
The moron is texting me again. Yet still getting ignored.
Morgan looks up at me with her soft, mellowing eyes mid-sip. Her face is heavy with intrigue. She dresses me down with a coy glance, licking coffee residue from her bottom lip until it’s completely gone. My legs start to twitch in view of her tongue, wondering what else it can do. And how it feels.
“Yeah, I love this spot,” she states, eyes drawn to my lips, “It feels intimate. Private.”
“I agree.”
We become lost in each other’s eyes, completely absent in thought. Part of me wishes the entire restaurant was empty of everyone but us. Just so we could have real private time to communicate our tension however we’d like to. The moment passes long enough before she speaks first to break the chain.
“So, while we wait for our food, I figured we could dive deeper into what we were talking about yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah,” I can’t help but to smile, “Let’s do that. Because I have questions.”
“And I have answers. Shoot.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. My mind is an open book of blank pages looking to be filled. “Okay. Soooo…are you and your husband like swingers or some shit?”
“Not exactly,” she answers empathically, “What me and my husband Damien do is a lot simpler than that. We’re just a married couple that loves to fuck and help other women reach their ultimate…ecstasy. It’s less about swapping partners and more about making sexy women like you cum as much as you’ve ever wanted to.”
I’m under the table rubbing my own thighs.
“Oh, gotcha.”
For the fourth time now, my phone vibrates. That’s the last fuckin’ straw. Angrily, I pull my phone from my purse, setting it in my lap while Morgan continues to talk. The first thing I see is an abundance of unnecessary messages from Mr. Makai. Ranging from whiny to borderline insane.
