Body By Night (5 page)

Monique empowered them by telling them the choice was theirs, that no one had to pose if she didn’t want to, and that she was going to pose with them.

“If I’m going to talk the talk, then I’ve got to walk the walk,” Monique said.

Tears came to D’Andra’s eyes as one by one the plus-size models faced their fears and decided to pose for the camera, with body paint their only covering. Marcia had stood on the balcony in celebration of her decision to be free.

That’s when D’Andra decided. Monique was right. If she was going to try and help other people get healthy and feel better, D’Andra knew she was going to have to start with herself. She put down her plate and picked up her purse. After finding Night’s card she reached for her cell phone. It was time to face her fears, all of them. She was going to do the photo shoot. She wouldn’t strip completely like the beautiful women in the contest had done, but at least she wouldn’t be afraid to show some thigh. That, she decided, was a start.

“Night, I’ll do it.”

“D’Andra?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get this out before I change my mind. I’ll be the spokesperson for your big girl campaign and do the photo shoot.”

“That’s beautiful, doll. What made you change your mind?”

D’Andra told Night about the television show and the nude modeling.

“You know,” he said, dropping his voice an octave, “that too can be arranged.”

“Not in this lifetime. That’ll never happen.”

“Never is an awfully long time. Besides, seeing you in all of your beautiful glory would be a powerful motivator to your sistahs out there.” His voice held the purr of a cat, a very big cat, one that was king of the jungle.

“Yeah, well maybe the show is on DVD. If not, my sistahs will have to get their glory and motivation by looking in the mirror.”

They finished the conversation with D’Andra giving Night her email address and agreeing to meet on Tuesday. They decided to schedule the shoot during what would become her regular Tuesday workout time. His plan was to work with her for forty-five minutes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and for her to work out on her own two additional days of the week. This unsupervised time would include work on the treadmill, stationary bike and, as she became stronger, the Stairmaster and elliptical machine.

Their conversation left her excited and energized. She didn’t even begrudge her family for leaving the kitchen a mess, and cleaned it while her thoughts raced a mile a minute. She felt good about the positive changes she was making in her life and decided that she might as well continue while she was on a roll. Just one wrong word or bad incident and she knew she could lose momentum.

As soon as she turned out the kitchen light, she hurried to the desk in the corner of the living room. She knew if she thought about what she was getting ready to do, even for a moment, she’d change her mind.

Quickly turning on the computer, she typed in the Web site for Google, then stared blankly at the box used to search. She didn’t know what to type. So she just typed her desire:
find someone
.

Thousands of Web sites jumped on the screen. D’Andra picked one randomly: Peoplesearch.com. She read the information on their Web site and with only a slight hesitation paid the small initiation fee to begin the search. After the charge went through another box popped up. She took a deep breath, faced her fear and typed the name: Orlando Dobbs.

“Wow, all this in two days? You’ve been busy,” Elaine said after hearing a recap of D’Andra’s weekend. She was told about D’Andra’s escapades in working out, the spokesperson opportunity, the decision to go apartment hunting, and the decision to try and find her father.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your dad,” Elaine said softly. She’d been a daddy’s girl since she was old enough to say “da”—still was—and couldn’t imagine growing up without him. “When did you see him last?”

D’Andra offered a bittersweet smile as she finished off her low-cal Subway sandwich. “According to an old photo, when I was about two. But I don’t remember.”

“What does your mother say about him?”

“Nothing, Elaine. That’s just it. In all these years, she’s refused to say much at all. Except that he was an asshole that I was better off not knowing. But I still wonder about him, you know?”

Elaine didn’t know but nodded anyway.

“And now, well, it’s not just the need for a nostalgic walk down memory lane or a potential date with my sperm donor. I need to know the history from his side of the family for my health; whether there are patterns of diabetes, heart disease, cancer, stroke. I am a part of who he is, whether I want to be or not. So I need to know.”

There was silence as they replaced their trays and left the cafeteria.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

She told Elaine about the three listings for Orlando Dobbs she’d found via the Peoplesearch.com Web site. One listing was in Chicago, one in Florida and the last in New Jersey. Each had an address and phone number, along with additional information for a higher fee.

“I don’t know,” she repeated, as they entered the medicine room, grateful that soon she’d be too busy to think about it.

It was time to pass meds, a task for which full focus was required. The last thing she wanted to do was give someone the wrong type or amount of medication. She checked the patient report sheet and signed into the computer on the med cart.

Time to get back to work, she thought, the one area in her life where D’Andra thrived. When it came to doing her job, she was outstanding. It was good to have a place where she felt respected and in control, and this was it. She wheeled her cart around and opened the door.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten off the hook,” Elaine said, readying her own cart to work the opposite wing.

“About what?”

“The personal trainer, that’s what. I saw how your eyes lit up when you mentioned being his spokesperson, even if you did try to sound all cool and casual.”

“Girl, please. He’s just walking dirt, nothing to tell.”

“Uh-huh, just as I figured. He’s a hunk and you’re in love.”

“In heat is more like it…details at eleven.”

They both laughed and walked off in opposite directions. Fortunately, passing meds would keep
walking dirt
off her mind.

“There’s my angel,” Tom said as D’Andra entered the room.

“That’s right, here I am. How’s my favorite patient today?”

“Better now that my honey’s here.” Tom Broomfield’s seventy-year-old blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

D’Andra laughed. “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.” She took his vitals and continued to chitchat. “You ready to start the rehab on that hip today?”

“The sooner we get started, the sooner I get that dance you promised.”

“Well all right, handsome,” D’Andra said, winking at him as she rechecked the computer and gave him his medication.

“You’d better get some sleep so you’ll be ready when Bryan comes in later.”

“It’s hard for me to sleep, dear. But I’ll still be ready for my therapy and before you know it, we’ll be dancing off into the sunset to the Tennessee Waltz.”

“Tennesee? I told you we’re going to do some two-stepping, Chicago style. Now try and get some sleep.”

By the time the night was over, D’Andra felt like she’d made up another dance: the patient shuffle. Aside from a patient with Alzheimer’s walking off site, old Gladys Smith throwing her used bed pan, Jessie hiding his roommate’s glasses and old man Pervis pulling out his willy and scaring Harriett, her patient she loved to hate—Mrs. Frieda Lee Miller—was full of herself all night long. She rang her button incessantly and refused to let anybody but “Grace”, the name she insisted on calling D’Andra, take care of her.

D’Andra couldn’t figure out why she had a soft side for Frieda, whom D’Andra called Miss Daisy. Perhaps it was that she believed her patient’s cantankerous ways were a result of loneliness and pain, physical as well as emotional. Miss Daisy had no relatives who lived close by and therefore no visitors. Perhaps Frieda thought that even negative I-know-I’ve-gotten-on-your-nerves attention was better than none at all.

The house was quiet when D’Andra returned home from work, almost three hours past the time she was supposed to have gotten off. She took a quick shower, put on her pajamas and had just pulled the covers over her head when the phone rang. She considered letting it go to voice mail but since her cell phone rarely rang these days, curiosity won out.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll.”

Night!
“Oh, hey.”

“It’s ten in the morning, girl. Did I wake you?”

“No,” D’Andra said yawning. “I haven’t been to bed yet.”

Night wasn’t expecting the pang of jealousy that went through him. He didn’t care about her like that. Did he? “Oh, it’s like that. Well, sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s not
like that
, whatever that means for you.” D’Andra snapped, testy because she was exhausted. “I work nights.”

Silence.

“Yeah, you should feel bad,” she continued. “Either
I’m sorry
or
my bad
will do just fine.”

“My apologies, doll.”

The smile in his voice brought one to D’Andra’s face, even as the deep tone warmed her all over. Even through her exhaustion she could feel heat rise. It wasn’t good to talk to him while lying horizontal, she decided.

“I won’t keep you then, just wondered if you could make it at three-thirty instead of four today. My photographer has to be across town at six and I want to make sure we finish with the shoot.”

The shoot. With all the hoopla at work last night, D’Andra had forgotten, both that it was happening and why she’d thought it a good idea.

“I don’t think so, Night. It’s almost eleven A.M. now and I work again tonight. Maybe I’d better cancel.”

Night had a feeling if they cancelled, the shoot wouldn’t get rescheduled. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. How about we make it later, around eight? I know someone else who might be able to get the shots we need.”

“Why don’t we do it another day?”

“Because we’re doing it tonight, at eight. You’ve got my address. I’ll see you then.”

The click of his phone hanging up served as goodbye.

He’s too pushy, D’Andra thought as she repositioned her pillow and curled up on her side. But even so, her last thoughts before sleep were of him, and there was a smile on her face.

The sultry, wet sauna produced a thin sheen of sweat on both of them. D’Andra watched Night lick his lips as his eyes followed one large bead from the fold in D’Andra’s neck down her cleavage. Her nipples hardened as he continued staring, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. The room got hotter still.

“Here, let me,” he said, gently taking her towel as he came to sit beside her. He began to dab at the droplets on her face, neck, arms and legs. Then he took his finger and followed the trail of yet another bead of sweat as it ran down her arm and puddled in the palm of her hand. Night lifted her hand ever so gently; his dark brown eyes boring into hers, and kissed each finger.

D’Andra followed Night’s lead. She inched closer to his brawny frame, taking his hand in hers and kissing each digit. Then, never taking her eyes off his, she opened her mouth and sucked in his long, middle finger. Her tongue swirled around and around from knuckle to tip. She smiled slightly at Night’s quick intake of breath, even as she repeated the action with his other hand.

“I want you D’Andra,” Night said huskily.

“What? Right here, right now?”

“Yes.”

“But what if people see us?”

“The gym is closed; nobody’s here.”

D’Andra looked around. How long had they been in the sauna?

“Nobody’s here,” Night repeated, just before his lips pressed against hers.

The kiss seared her body like a branding iron. She craned her neck to give him all of her, even as she opened her mouth to his probing tongue and let him inside. Their tongues swirled in the age-old dance, their hands moving, exploring, touching new territory. D’Andra gasped as she felt Night’s hand slip below her athletic bra. She was surprised at his gentleness, even as he massaged each nipple into a hardened peak within seconds.

“Now, I want you now.” Night began to take off her top.

“No, Night, I don’t want you to see me.”

“I want to…”

Before she could protest further the top was over her head and off her body, flung to the corner of the room. Her bra quickly followed. Night buried his head in her double Ds before caressing then kissing each nipple in the same manner he had her mouth.

“Get naked for me.”

D’Andra’s eyes widened as she looked around. She rose from the bench, her hands over her still throbbing breast.

Night’s smile was that of a predator who had tracked and trapped his prey. “There’s no escape, doll,” he drawled as he too rose from the bench and came toward her. “Do you need me to help you?”

“No, I—”

“Here, allow me.”

With the skill of a surgeon he tugged the elastic of her shorts away from her waist and pulled down. D’Andra tried to cover herself.

“Don’t. Let me see. I want to see all of you.”

D’Andra was horrified. “No, Night. There’s too much of me.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, as his tongue began a journey toward her personal paradise.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, there is. Don’t look at me Night. I’m fat.”

Night quickly straightened, took her chin firmly but gently in his hand and stared unflinchingly into her eyes. “You’re fabulous,” he said as he moved his hands over her curves, caressing her folds as if they were satin and squeezing her thighs as if they were silk. He reached around and smoothed his hands over her ample behind, jiggling it lovingly while his tongue once again found hers. His breathing quickened. After a thorough plundering of her mouth he stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers, and he stripped out of his shorts. His readiness was evident as his engorged manhood stood at attention.

“Now, do you want this?”

D’Andra looked down at nine-plus inches of ebony genius. No words came out; she could only nod.

“Well, come get it.” His words belied his actions. He backed D’Andra up against the hot wood, lifted her as if she were weightless and pinned her against the wall. One of D’Andra’s feet was balanced on the bench, the other dangling in the air with Night’s arm under her knee. He glided in slow and easy, feeling her full, and set up a rhythm that threw her into a frenzy.

“Night,” she moaned his name over and over. “Night, Night, Night…”

“Aunt DeeDee! Wake up, Aunt DeeDee!”

D’Andra fought sheets and little hands for air as she came out of what felt like a deep fog. She lay barely opened eyes on three sets of wide-eyed brown ones with expressions that ranged from quizzical to comical.

“You were dreaming, Aunt DeeDee,” Kayla said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Tonia said. “And talking, too.”

D’Andra frowned, still trying to wake up.

“In your sleep,” Kayla added patiently, as if she were the adult and D’Andra the child.

“Yeah,” Antoine echoed. “Talking in your sleep.”

D’Andra rubbed her eyes and yawned, determined to gain her bearings. Hadn’t she just been dreaming?

“You kept saying Night,” Kayla continued.

“Night, night,” Antoine echoed.

“Was it nighttime in your dream?” Kayla asked, looking pointedly at the stream of sunshine flowing in from the townhouse’s east window. “Cause it’s sunny now.”

Night. The dream came rushing back in full clarity. They were in the sauna, it was dark, the gym was closed and she and he were…

D’Andra sat up to flee the dream. She squinted her eyes toward the clock on the wall. It was a little after three. No wonder she was so groggy. The kids had awakened her from a deep sleep and from a troublesome dream. She couldn’t decide whether they’d done her a favor or not.

“Aunt DeeDee is going upstairs to finish sleeping, okay? I’m going to lock the door so come on up and get the toys you want now, ’cause I’m not going to open the door once I close it. Do you hear me?”

The kids nodded and dutifully followed her upstairs. After picking out a couple games for the Xbox and a DVD, they felt prepared to get through the next three hours. D’Andra hoped she could get some more sleep, but fragments of the dream kept floating around her head like wisps of smoke. Nothing would ever happen between her and Night. They weren’t each other’s type and the timing wasn’t right. She determined to bring these wandering, non-productive thoughts under control and forced herself to think about Night in different terms, as her personal trainer and employer of sorts, nothing more. Mind made up, she rolled over, went to sleep, and dreamt of him.