Cafe Romance (13 page)

“Every other night, girlie,” Juanita returned with a blush. “A woman’s got to ride good ole Moby Dick, from time to time.” Now it was Yvette who was blushing.

After a loud passing bus, Yvette continued. “You won’t believe it but this man started to pop up without calling and calling in the middle of the night without warning, wanting to know what I was doing and if I was with anyone. That’s when I decided it was time to close the curtains on this show."

"Good for you!"

“Juanita, he was out the door so fast you would have thought he was a passing thought. A bad one at that!  Believe me, Nola would be wise to get rid of Gus."

"I agree," Juanita added in the same spirit. "But you know how my sister is. She has always had a dependency on men. To this day I cannot make any sense of it."

"Trust me on this one, the woman is not happy," Yvette stated matter-of-factly.

"It's a shame but it's true. What's worse is that she has two young beautiful children by this jerk. I think that’s what’s keeping my sister from leaving him," Juanita reflected aloud, and irritated by the thought that her big sister was reluctant to kick Gus’s black ass out of the house like the bad habit he was. "It's not like they are married, Yvette," she said, placing her elbow on the table, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. "That damn Gus can be such an asshole!"

"Listen, I'm sure Nola will come to her senses," Yvette said, stroking Juanita's shoulder reassuringly.

"I hope so, for her and the children's sake," she murmured. "Nola deserves better."

“Yes, she does.”

The two took a moment to sip at their drinks.

“So, I see that Antwan and you are still on an intimacy diet,” Juanita began.

“What do you mean by that?” Yvette asked, surveying her friend’s amused expression.

“It’s obvious to me he’s not taking care of your needs, honey,” Juanita teased.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re not glowing darl’n, that’s why,” Juanita came back. “Women who just got their bodies tuned up glow.”

Yvette appeared slightly embarrassed. If it was anyone else aside from Juanita saying this she would take it personally.

“So, it’s that’s obvious, huh?” Yvette asked.

“Be honest with me. When was the last time you had some genuine old school, hot-to-trot, all-American, oversized Mandingo cock, girl?”

With a bemused smile, Yvette replied, “In my dreams
…
does that count?”

“Yeah, right! You better start thinking about the real deal, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay.”

“Dreams will take you so far. A nice long hard rubbery cock will take you out of this world. That is, unless you’re one of those damn Sunday goodie two shoes who delight in getting their coochie jumped started every six months by their GYN’s probing fingers.”

“Cute, very cute, though I’ve heard that such visits can be rather stimulating,” Yvette came back with a smile. “Anyway, I’m not thinking about men or any GYN’s at this point in my life. I want to open up my own business. That’s going to take a lot of hard work, effort and time. Because of that, men just are not on my list of priorities
…
that is right now. Thank you.”

“Tell yourself that when your coochie begins to crave some. Just outright begging for some. Tell yourself then that men are not on your list of priorities.”

“When that day comes, I’ll just take a cold shower,” Yvette retorted playfully.

The two laughed aloud.

At that moment the waitress arrived with their food. Afterwards, the two friends hugged, then departed.

A
bout to call it a day Yvette’s phone rang. It was her friend and confidante, Antwan. The two conversed cordially, then made plans for the upcoming weekend. It had not gone unnoticed by her that Antwan was becoming more attentive, more serious with her. It was just a feeling she had initially, his sudden interest in her, but it became clear and obvious for her to see. First came the prolong stares and the dreamy eyes, then the frequent calls. Finally the royal treatment and the flattery
…
how beautiful and wonderful she looked and how wonderfully he felt about her.

But just as quickly as she saw the signs she opted to ignore them. She felt that Antwan would come to his senses eventually and see her as the friend she always felt she had been to him, and not a love interest. After all, she enjoyed her freedom and wasn't about to jeopardize it over a serious case of puppy love. Nor was she about to jeopardize their friendship. Good friends are hard to come by. True friends are even harder. Lovers
…
well they're a different category and a different breed.

Later, Yvette decided to give into her fatigue but not before she had a chance to put her passing thoughts of Antwan in the far corners of her mind.

Flipping off the lamp, she covered up comfortably under the warm bedspread. As soon as her head hit the cool pillow she fell fast asleep. Will I ever meet my dear Mr. Right, were her last awaken thoughts.

N
ow that his food had settled, and the rainstorm that was forecasted failed to materialize, Kurt decided he’d take his bike on another scenic tour of Tampa Bay. There was an area east he wanted to explore for the first time. With dusk slowly setting in, the city began to take on a nocturnal carnival look. Neon light time, as they often referred to it in New Jersey.

As he rode down the streets and wide boulevards of the Bay City, Kurt often glanced upward at the majestic skyscrapers. Many reminded him of the great metropolis of Philadelphia. As he cruised along on his bike he gazed up at numerous tall palm trees, strategically positioned throughout the city, and would be reminded of southern California, a state he had recently visited. It was a great day for being the new kid on the block. Fun-filled and refreshing, his outing had been so far. And plenty of eye-candy walking the streets.

Rounding a narrow street jam-packed with rush hour traffic, Kurt took a shortcut through a nearby parking lot. It was a decision that would change the course of his life.

A second later, and to his complete horror, he spied a woman of African-American decent, struggling fiercely with a white assailant and a Hispanic accomplice near what appeared to be a late model sports car. It was either an attempted robbery or carjacking, or both.

            From what he could observe, it appeared that one of the assailants was not satisfied with just taking the woman’s car, as he struggled fiercely to snatch her pocketbook away from her. But as determined as this thug was to take her possession, this woman was just as determined to hold onto it.

Whether foolishly or bravely, she held firmly onto her pocketbook as she screamed for help. Her resistance only got her shoved to the ground as a second thug joined in the fray. Perhaps he thought he would have better luck wrestling the large pocketbook away from her. But his efforts produced little results. This woman was one tough cookie, the two must have thought. Angered by her brash resistance one of the men stepped back and raised his fist, as if to strike her.

At that moment Kurt yelled out angrily as he shifted into high gear and raced his bike towards them. One assailant spied Kurt's rapid approach and scrambled away. Perturbed, he leaped off of his bike and dove onto the assailant who dared to remain at the scene and traded blows with him. No match for Kurt, who held a Black Belt in the Chinese martial arts known as Ming Chung Do, the assailant made a fast retreat and disappeared around the alleyway, vanishing into the vast concrete jungle bruised and empty-handed. Nearby, a steady stream of bystanders were now gathering having heard the woman's screams, some to assist, some to collect gossip material, others out of curiosity.

Helping the visually shaken woman up Kurt asked her if she was all right. "I'm fine, thank you," she said, her eyes averted downward as she brushed off her clothing with her hands. When their eyes finally met, their gaze locked searchingly and intensely, as though in some sort of self-induced trance. Her beauty and soft features stunned him. And he could see that she was smitten by his handsome smile and dark probing eyes as well. In the heat of battle he had not gotten a chance for a good look over. But now that the dust had settled it was plain for all to see, the woman was a walking dream. Very attractive. And wholesome looking, too. Yet foolishly courageous, he felt.

Snapping out of their self-imposed trace the two blushed slightly. Both felt a sense of mild embarrassment by their non-verbal by-play and what may have been revealed to the other. Neither was in the habit of letting their inner thoughts and feelings register so quickly. But there are those moments, when people least expect it, when they do not have time to put up their guard. This had been one of those times.

Such a hunk and a dream come true, she thought, and was afraid she had already revealed, as she appreciatively thanked this handsome stranger again for his bravery. She asked him if he was all right.

He was about to give her a response but was drowned out by the ear piercing sirens of fast approaching police cars. “I’m fine,” he managed to get in.

She smiled.

By now the police had converged on the two and upon request, Kurt gave the police a detailed description of the assailants and his address in the event they needed more information. As he turned to leave the rescued woman caught his attention and asked him for his name.

"What's yours, may I ask?" he replied, with a touch of intrigue in his dark penetrating eyes.

"Yvette!  Yvette Roberts," she calmly answered, looking admiringly into his gaze.

At this time a police officer interrupted the two saying that he had a few more questions he wanted to ask her. Yvette assured the officer that she would be with him shortly then gave her attention back to Kurt.

"Well, I'm glad everything turned out alright for you," he added with a warm smile.  

"Listen, I'm glad you were here to ensure that," she said with an equally warm smile to match.

“You’re welcomed. Just the same, you may want to consider carrying a bottle of mace around with you,” he quipped as he mounted his bike. “You just never know when something like this may happen again.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied, as her eyes swept over his face approvingly.

“Good!” he said, gripping the handlebar with both hands. “And don’t forget that can of mace.”

“I believe you mean pepper spray,” she said, peering back at him.

“Huh?”

“I believe Mace is prohibited by law here in Florida,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “You must not be from Florida.”

“No, I’m not,” he smiled handsomely. “Anyway, you have a nice day.”

"Well, it's a pleasure meeting you. Be careful!" he replied, balancing on his bike. Extending his right hand, she shook it.

When law enforcement stepped forward again and asked her to take a moment to answer a few additional questions, her rescuer quietly took off.

God, he's such a dream, she thought. With her faith restored in humanity, she stole one last look as her protector faded from view. At that moment she realized she had failed to get his name.
Damn, how could I let such a handsome stud get away
? She exhaled. It had to have been his touch that had distracted her, she concluded.

She slowly, and apologetically, returned her attention to the police officers. After signing the police report she thanked the officers for their assistance, then got in her car and drove off.

Along the way, she pondered whether fate would be as kind and as considerate as to give her another chance encounter with her Knight in shining armor.

C
hapter 8

Y
vette had barely closed the door shut to her apartment when she called Juanita. She couldn’t wait to tell all about her newsworthy incident and about the handsome guardian angel that had come to her rescue. It was a play-by-play accounting of what happened, right down to forgetting to get his name.

Before turning in for the night, her handsome rescuer reclaimed her thoughts. Who was this guy? And was he married? Or was he single, as she hoped? No such luck, she reasoned. Surely he was the happily married, family-type man. He probably had kids, a half dozen of them.

Being a dreamer, anytime something of significance occurred in her life Yvette had a knack for dreaming about it. She was a woman with a big imagination. Handsome guy. Single woman. Lonely night. It was definitely time for another epic encounter in dreamland, she told herself. Falling asleep she let her imagination take it from there.

First came his silhouette
…
tall, dark, and muscular. A short distance away, she stood in the hot steaming shower
…
voluptuous and vulnerable by choice. With great curiosity and excitement, she watched anxiously as he entered the shower stall unannounced with a warm smile and warm gaze. She focused her eyes. When she did she could see that it was him, her rescuer.

He was fully clothed, except for shoes and socks. As she stood there before him, her body glistening in the rising steam, she had no doubt he was pleased with what he saw. She returned his smile with an uninhibited smile of her own as she began to soap her body down, purposely, and without coquetry. Then she let him take control.

Easing his handsome frame over to her he planted a kiss on her forehead, and then her neck, his trail of wet kisses skillfully applied. His moist kisses were passionate, sinfully sweet. Without uttering a word, he took her into his arms with wild abandonment and kissed her long and hard on moist lips. His head spun wildly as she kissed him back hungrily. Total bliss is what consumed them both.

Yvette knew a good dream when she was in one. And boy was this man a dream. Without hesitation, she took the liberty of undressing him. With slow deliberation she removed one soaked article of clothing at a time until she had unclothed his sculptured frame completely. With a smile she stroked the side of his head tenderly with her hands. She could tell he delighted in the first class treatment she provided him as her lady-like hands touched him tenderly, eagerly, while doing unlady-like things. Talk about being anxious. Her hands were everywhere on his body, his warm flesh slippery with scented soap. It had been a while for her and there was nothing she could do or wanted to do about it.