Chocolate Dove (10 page)
Authors: Cas Sigers
“Hi, Hollis, what's up?”
“I need you tonight. Where are you?”
“I'm at dinner with a friend.”
“Well, wrap your plate up and take down this address. His name is Adam Sizemore.”
“But I can't go right now, can't youâ”
“You called me today and said, âplease consider me for new jobs.' You said you were willing and available.”
“I didn't say tonight,” Basra specified.
“You're not sick and this guy specifically wants a woman of color. If you're not dependable, then I need to know that right now.”
“I am. I will be there in an hour. Thanks.” Basra clicked off. “Shit!” she yelled. She paused and looked in the mirror. “God, I really don't want to do this. I like hiiiiiiim,” she whined.
Basra walked out and delivered the bad news.
“I have an emergency,” she moped.
“Is there something I can do?”
“No, but I have to go.”
Grayson began chuckling. “You have to go pick up your friend who was in an accident?” he asked in between the laughs.
“This is serious. I have to go.” Basra placed her purse on her shoulder.
“I'm sorry. Seriously, what do you need me to do?”
“Ask me out again.”
“Will you go out with me again, Friday night?”
“I was hoping you'd say tomorrow.”
“I wanted to, but I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with that. Are you sure everything is all right?”
“I'm fine. I just have to go take care of something. I'd love to see you tomorrow. Call me.”
The waitress came to the table with two plates. Basra looked at her food and frowned.
“Can you wrap up her plate?” Grayson asked. “You have to eat,” he said to Basra.
She sighed but then sat back and waited for the server to return.
“I'm sorry. I promised I'd help a friend prep for his photo shoot,” Basra commented while rummaging through her purse. She couldn't face him and it was killing her that she couldn't be truthful.
“I can come help.”
“No,” she replied quickly.
“Oh, I see.”
“See what?” she asked.
“This photographer is someone who'd rather you not show up with male company. Ex-boyfriend perhaps.”
“No. He's just funny about people in his space. I'm so sorry.”
“It's cool.”
The server returned with her to-go plate. Basra kissed Grayson on the cheek. “Are you going to stay here and eat?” she asked.
“I sure am. Who knows, I might find me another date. Lonely, cute guy in a nice restaurant, all by himself, eating all alone ...”
“Stop making me feel bad.”
“I'm joking. Call me tonight when you get in.”
“I will.”
Basra hailed a cab and scarfed down her food on the way to Brooklyn. She needed to stop by the house and grab a few overnight essentials. She was hoping she wouldn't have to spend the evening with this Adam person, but she wanted to be prepared. With a slight scowl stretched across her face, she walked back through her lobby to grab another cab. Meeting someone new normally unnerved her, but she was so annoyed that Hollis had ruined her evening, her nervousness had been replaced by irritation. She gave the cabbie the Upper East Side address, and twenty minutes later, Basra was walking through another lobby with an even bigger grimace.
“Is there a restroom down here?” she asked the concierge.
“Are you here to see one of our residents?”
“Yes, I'm going to 1004. My name is ... Dove,” she answered.
The concierge picked up the phone to call.
“Is there a restroom down here?” Basra repeated with frustration.
He pointed by the elevators, and she turned to walk.
“Could you wait one minute?” said the concierge, halting her movement. Basra was angered by his rude temperament. She rolled her eyes, turned back, and waited until he'd confirmed her visit.
“He's expecting a Basraâ”
“That's me.”
The concierge asked for identification and finally released her to pass through. By the time Basra had made it to the restroom, her anger had boiled to rage. She had to pace the black-and-white tile floors to calm down. She called Hollis, who surprisingly answered.
“I'm here. Who is this guy again?”
“His name is Adam. He's a financial bigwig. Does business here but lives out west. He was referred by one of my oldest.”
“Fine, how much am I making? I need five grand.”
“Well, well. Someone has gotten quite demanding.”
“I know Lucia gets that a night, and I'm more exotic than she is. That's what I really need to make.”
“You got it,” Hollis said.
Basra paused, surprised at how easy that was.
I should have asked for more,
she thought. Hollis had a strict policy and the girls weren't allowed to discuss money with the clients. They weren't even allowed to ask how much the agency retained from each date. But Basra had decided that if she was going to be used, she would get as much out of it as possible. The business was numbing her, and she could feel it. But she no longer cared. She wanted her money and she wanted to get back to Grayson, and at the time, that was all that mattered.
I should have asked for more,
she thought. Hollis had a strict policy and the girls weren't allowed to discuss money with the clients. They weren't even allowed to ask how much the agency retained from each date. But Basra had decided that if she was going to be used, she would get as much out of it as possible. The business was numbing her, and she could feel it. But she no longer cared. She wanted her money and she wanted to get back to Grayson, and at the time, that was all that mattered.
The door was partially cracked and so Basra walked into the one-bedroom, simply decorated apartment. It looked like a picture in a catalogue complete with fake fruit on the coffee table. Adam came from the bedroom wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was in his late forties and slightly resembled Brett Favre, without the handsome ruggedness. His eyes were small and shifty and as Basra made eye contact, her nervousness set in.
“I'm Dove,” she said, extending her hand.
“Adam. Have a seat.”
She sat in the chair farthest away from the bedroom door, and gazed out of the window.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Somalia.”
“I've had some business dealings in several parts of Africa. Never been to Somalia, though. How long have you been here?”
“About a year and a half.” Basra appreciated him trying to make small talk, but she didn't want to chat. She wanted to know what he was expecting, so that she could deliver and then leave. It'd have been great if he only wanted company, but she assumed that wasn't the case since they met at his place and he wasn't dressed for a night out.
“So, how long have you worked with the agency?”
“Six months. I was introduced through my roommate, well, my ex-roommate.”
“You in school?”
“I was, now I'm just saving money. I will go back in the fall.”
“Would you like a drink?” Adam asked.
“Wine would be nice, red.”
Adam poured her a glass of merlot and flipped on the television. Basra continued to sit and sip her wine, and as the minutes passed, the awkwardness grew. Finally, Adam made his move.
“Why don't we go into the bedroom?”
Finally,
Basra thought. But then, suddenly, she felt sick. Her breath shortened, and her stomach cramped. She forced herself to think pleasant thoughts: images of her meeting Grayson for the first time, the way he constantly pushed his black-framed glasses into place. Then she thought of her sister and how happy she'd be at FIT. The thoughts led her to a happy place, and before she realized it, she was lying in bed with Adam.
Basra thought. But then, suddenly, she felt sick. Her breath shortened, and her stomach cramped. She forced herself to think pleasant thoughts: images of her meeting Grayson for the first time, the way he constantly pushed his black-framed glasses into place. Then she thought of her sister and how happy she'd be at FIT. The thoughts led her to a happy place, and before she realized it, she was lying in bed with Adam.
“I just need another glass of wine,” she said, lifting up.
He jumped from the bed and returned with her glass and the bottle. Basra quickly drank, removed her shirt, and turned to him.
“I promise this won't be as weird once we get to know each other,” he commented.
She smiled and replied, “I'm sure,”
Adam wrapped his hand around her neck and kissed her. The lip lock took her by surprise. She didn't think he'd want to do something as passionate and intimate. Her body stiffened.
“It's going to be okay,” he whispered while laying her body down. Her body refused to cooperate, but Adam didn't care about her unwillingness. He vigorously mashed his hips into hers. He tossed her lean body back and forth and his actions grew in intensity. Basra played along. She was no longer able to produce happy thoughts. All of her concentration was spent on holding back the tears. Eventually, she gave in to the natural emotion and buried her head in the down pillow and let the cotton soak up the moisture on her face. The tears fell, but Adam had no idea. He was too busy asking a barrage of stupid questions.
“Am I the best? Is this what you want?” kept ringing in her ear but before she could reply, he spouted more questions. “You want to tease me. Can I punish you?” Basra snickered slightly and tried hard to remove all emotional connection from the act. When she concentrated on other places and events, her mind physically left the shell of her body, that was being strewn about the bed. Although, his questioning continued, she remained silent. It wasn't until he grabbed her shoulders and slapped her across the face did her mind fall back into room 1004. The stinging on her skin caused a brash reaction.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” she yelled, lifting her body.
Immediately Adam caved. He pulled away from her and whimpered. “I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. Please punish me.”
Basra sat up and looked at him as he knelt by the edge of the bed.
“Punish me,” he reiterated.
With confusion, Basra nervously looked around the room.
“Would you like to slap me back?” he asked.
Basra nodded slowly, feeling as though she were being pranked.
Adam, still on his knees, turned his face to the side and waited. Basra slowly moved toward the edge of the bed and softly slapped Adam.
“Don't you ever hit me again,” she said softly with caution.
He bowed his head and apologized. Basra sat on the bed and looked at him. She didn't know what to do. Was it over? Could she leave?
Finally, Adam spoke again. “May I please kiss you?” he asked.
“No,” Basra said loudly. She had no idea she was playing along with his fantasy. She simply abhorred the thought of kissing him again.
“If I let you beat me, may I kiss you then?”
Again, Basra looked around the room. This was very weird and she had no idea how to respond. But she figured she'd go for it. If he wanted to be beaten, she was more than happy. She took the liberty to slap him again, this time with more momentum. He seemed to enjoy it. Basra grabbed her shirt from the bed and stood over him. She covered the front of her body with her shirt and placed her foot against his chest.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
He looked up.
“You don't deserve to kiss me. I should just beat you for asking.”
“I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me,” he said.
Basra held back the chuckles, and got more into character.
“Who do you think I am? I'm not playing with you.” She took her foot and pushed him onto the floor. She got on top of his chest and dug her somewhat pointy knees into his ribcage.
“I will cut off your air.”
“Are you going to choke me?” he asked.
Basra's eyes lit up. She was about to release all of her frustration and was more than glad to choke the shit out of him. She wrapped her hands around his throat and clinched tight.
“Is this what you want? I will punish you until you stop breathing,”
He seemed to enjoy it. The tighter she gripped, the more he smiled. She took her right hand and lapped it over her left and began to wring his neck back and forth. He coughed violently and turned red. Basra jumped up.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Are you okay?” she said with fear.
Adam regained his breath and rolled over into the fetal position. Basra stood back and hoped she hadn't taken the act too far. He got enough wind to speak.
“I'm fine.”
He rolled back over and stared at her. He grinned like a devious cat burglar with stolen treasure. “You're going to be perfect.”
Adam rose and sat on the bed. He pointed for Basra to join him.
“I like Dove,” he said before leaning over for another kiss.
This time, she covered his mouth to prevent their lips from touching. He grinned, pushed her down, and politely asked for another round of intercourse. Basra desperately wanted to deny him, but she knew this was part of the deal. She obliged; however, this time she was just as rough as he. She called him vile names and took pleasure in slapping his face and digging her teeth into his skin as often as possible. Two hours later she was heading back to Brooklyn. Her emotions were rapidly jumping between degradation and exhilaration. As soon as she stepped in her place, she pulled out her phone to call Lucia. But she saw the missed call from Grayson. Though she wanted nothing more than to talk to him, she knew the first part of the conversation would be an absolute lie. He was going to ask about the fake photo shoot and her imaginary photographer friend. Everything about Grayson made her feel warm and mushy. Yet, as much as she liked him, she knew she needed to end things. She wasn't in a place to start a relationship and she knew it was where they were heading. Their connection was an undeniable force that grew with every minute they shared.
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