Shattering the Myth (12 page)

“I'm sorry, you have the wrong number!” It started with a wrong number and ended with the fuck of a lifetime. It was about seven o'clock on a Wednesday night, hump day, and I was worn the hell out after a hard day at the office. My live-in boyfriend, Tony, wasn't home yet. It was his night to play basketball with the boys at the gym. I was sitting there on the couch with my legs up, sipping on a glass of red wine and watching
Judge Judy
while I was waiting for my chicken breasts and baked potatoes to finish baking.

At the time, Tony and I had been living together for a little over a year, and it was all good. Things were going well between us. The lovemaking was very satisfying. I don't know why I did what I did, and I'm not trying to make excuses for it. All I can say is, I had fallen into kind of a rut. Let's face it, shit happens!

When the phone rang, I figured it must have been my mother or one of my girlfriends but had no idea, since the caller ID was in the bedroom. I picked it up and said, “Hello.” The man on the other end of the line said, “Hello, may I please speak to Stacey?” I told him, “I'm sorry, you have the wrong number!”

He then asked, “Is this 555-2269?” and I said, “No, this is 555-2268.” So he said, “Sorry, my mistake. Have a good evening!” and I replied, “You too. Peace!”

Now, you would have thought that would be the end of it, but naw. About a half hour later,
Judge Judy
had gone off, and
Real Life Stories of the Highway Patrol
was on, where they show people getting their asses arrested and shit in real life. They have cameras all up in their faces. It's mad funny to me for a person to not only get caught in the act, but cold busted on TV in front of millions of people as well. Anyway, I had just taken the chicken out of the oven and thrown a pouch of boil-in-the-bag rice into a pot on the stove when the phone rang.

I assumed the same thing I did the first time, must be my mother or one of the girls. Wrong again, because he called my ass back. I don't know what the fuck happened, but I ended up flirting with him on the phone for over an hour. He had a deep, mesmerizing, sexy-ass voice, and frankly, the shit turned me on.

Why I told him my name was Amber, I have no idea. Probably because it was the logical response to him telling me his name was Rob. He just made me feel so comfortable and at ease. There I was, kicking it with some stranger on the phone about everything from the latest Puff Daddy and the Family CD to our respective careers to my hair appointment the next day. He and I talked about the fact that there are so few black barbershops and hair salons in our predominately white New England town. I happened to mention that I used a stylist named LaLa at this salon called She Thang over on Twelfth Street.

Even though the conversation was stimulating, I finally told him I had to go because it was getting late. He asked me could he call again sometime, and I said, “Absolutely hell fucking no! My boyfriend would kill me if nuccas started calling the house for me while he's home!” He said he completely understood
and that it was nice meeting me, even if it was only over the phone, and insisted on asking one question before we hung up. I asked what the question was, and he asked me to describe what I looked like.

I told him that I was five-nine, 145 pounds, and light-skinned, with shoulder-length medium brown hair, and half Native American. He told me, “You sound delicious!” He volunteered his information before I could even ask and told me that he was six-one, 190 pounds, and dark-skinned with hazel eyes. I told him what was on my mind and replied, “You sound delicious too!” That was it except for the formal goodbyes.

I made love to Tony that night and fell asleep in his arms fantasizing about a nucca named Rob who I knew by voice and description alone. I was so aroused that I couldn't sleep. I woke Tony up in the middle of the night by sucking on his dick, and it was all good.

The next day at work was a typical Thursday. I'm a human resource manager for a construction company. I left about an hour early, after changing into some casual clothes, so I could get to my 5
P.M
. hair appointment on time. I beat the work traffic and got there ten minutes early. Of course, when I got there, LaLa had one client in her chair, one under the hot-ass hair dryer waiting for all that dayum gel to dry up in her finger waves, and another one sitting in the lounge area with a magazine, waiting to get shampooed. I was not fucking surprised, since hair stylists always overbook and shit to ensure they keep clocking dollars whether everyone shows up or not.

I finally got my touch-up in about an hour later. I was sitting in the chair at LaLa's station, waiting for her to blow-dry me when the phone rang at the salon. One of the other stylists, this big-ass girl named Shakia, told me that the phone was
for me. I was dumbfounded, wondering who in the hell would be calling me at the hairdresser.

I went to the telephone, and it was Rob. I was fucking shocked. He told me that since I said he could never call me at home again because of Tony, he knew calling me at the salon was the only chance he would ever have to speak with me again. He said that he was only about twenty minutes from there, and he couldn't resist knowing I was going to be coming out looking good with my hair just done and wanted to drive over and meet me.

I was so scared, thinking to myself, Is this man crazy? I was hoping his ass wasn't crazy, but figured what the hell. I might as well take the chance, since I was in public. If I didn't feel right, I would just leave his ass there.

About thirty minutes later, LaLa was done with my hair, and he had not shown up, so I was contemplating leaving. I was sitting there flipping through some magazines when he came bouncing in the door, plopped down right beside me, and smiled this big ole grin. I couldn't help but do the same, because the man was too dayum fine.

I was a nervous wreck because everyone was looking. I walked outside quickly, and we stood in front of the salon talking for a few. He asked me if I would like to go to a restaurant down the street called the Cuckoo's Nest and I accepted. I was tripping hard because this was totally out of character for me. My ass walked down there with him anyway.

We were seated at a table in the corner. I asked him to excuse me while I went to the ladies' lounge to freshen up, but that was not the real reason I needed to leave the table for a few moments. I had to call Tony and make up an excuse for being out so late. I called him from the pay phone in the hallway leading to the rest rooms and explained how I had run
into a girlfriend at the hair salon, decided to go out for a couple of drinks, and would be home about midnight.

I came back to the table and became lost in Rob's voice, eyes, and the whole package. Time seemed to fly by. It was 10
P.M
. by the time we finished our meal and went through two bottles of nice Chablis. We left the restaurant and walked back to the pay parking lot where both our vehicles were located. I started up my Honda Accord and decided to sit in Rob's Grand Cherokee while I was waiting for it to warm up. I assumed the night was ending there. I had to work in the morning and knew I was already in trouble, but somehow talking turned into kissing. We sat and kissed and hugged and kissed and talked and hugged some more.

I told him I really had to get going. He leaned over for a final kiss and then whispered in my ear, “I don't want you to leave tonight!” He laid this kiss on me that made me melt, so I turned off my car, got back in the truck, and asked, “Okay, so now what?”

The parking lot attendant had been watching us from his booth a short distance away the whole time. The kissing and hugging went on for a good hour, and I couldn't take it anymore. I told him I knew about this really secluded lake about five minutes away. Off we went with a quickness.

After we got there, he started kissing me again and feeling all over my breasts. That drives me wild because my nipples are the most sensitive part of my body. I was so wet, I could feel the juices squishing between my legs. I had on this thin jogging suit, which wasn't helping matters any.

I figured we weren't going all the way. I'd just give him some hellified head, and that would be that. I unzipped his pants and put my lips to work. He leaned back in his seat and moaned and begged me not to stop. He was getting ready to
cum when he said, “Hold up!” Then, all of a sudden, he put his hand down my pants from the backside and pushed his fingers in me, and that was it. I was done! He had me from that point on, and the shit felt
soooooo
good.

Rob said, “I can't let you do me and not return the favor!” He got out of the truck, came around to my side, opened my door, and swung my legs around. He pushed my shirt up and pulled my sneakers and pants off and threw them on the floor of the truck. He spread my legs open and started eating my pussy like a man on death row devouring his last meal.

I kept saying, “Ohhhh, Rob!” I was at a loss for any other words. It was dead quiet out that night. There were no cars. Just the sounds of nature and me and him moaning and ooooing and ahhhing. Then he went into a bag he had in the back of his truck, pulled out a condom, and put it on. He reclined my seat and starting fucking me like there was no tomorrow. I came SOOOOOO HARD! I wanted to scream, but I was still holding back because I really didn't know this man from Adam.

He stopped before he came, had me get out the truck, and bent me over. I was leaned over on the seat with my feet on the ground when he did it to me from behind. I loved that shit. My ass must have been shining in the moonlight, but I didn't even care at that point. He came, and I came again, and needless to say, my new hairdo was sweated the hell out.

We put our clothes back on. I was feeling like a whore, since I had never done anything like that before. He drove me back to my car, kissed me good night, gave me his number, and that was it. Even though the events of the evening were totally uncharacteristic of me, I look back on it now with no regrets because everyone needs to release their wild side every now and then. Men do it all the time, you know what I mean?

Tony and I are still together. I called Rob once, a few days after we fucked in the moonlight by the lake, and asked him did he think I was a slut. He said, “No! In fact, it just makes me want to see more of you!”

Sitting here now, recalling all of this and becoming horny as hell for him all over again, only one thought comes to mind. Dayum, maybe I need to call him tonight and see what he's doing!

When I arrived at the building in the warehouse district, I was a bit apprehensive. Not because of the neighborhood. It had character—the kind of character it takes generations to acquire.

I was on pins and needles because I hate to have my picture taken. I've been that way ever since childhood. When I was seven, I was a flower girl in my cousin's wedding. I refused to take pictures with the rest of the wedding party. She had to chase me around the churchyard in her bridal gown for ten minutes before she persuaded me to cooperate.

I scanned the nameplates beside the column of doorbells until I spotted the one with “Curtis Givens—Photographer” engraved on it. I hesitated before pushing the little black button. I had to go through with it. It wasn't like I had a choice. My boss demanded I get a professional picture taken for the new corporate brochure he was having printed up for all of our clients.

When the intercom squeaked, it startled me. “Who is it?” a deep, baritone voice inquired.

“Evoni Price from the Grayson Corporation,” I replied hesitantly.

The only response was the loud buzzer, letting me know I was free to enter the building.

I took the freight elevator up to the third floor. Before I could lift the gate, a strong muscular hand did the honors. I glanced up into the sexiest damn, brownest damn, most enticing damn eyes I had ever seen.

“Welcome to Givens Photography Studio,” he said, grinning at me and revealing a cinematic smile. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

I followed him into his domain. I purposely trailed a few steps behind so I could get an eagle's-eye glimpse of his perfectly formed behind.

He directed me to a black leather love seat. “Please, have a seat, Miss Price. Or is it Mrs.?”

“No, it's definitely Miss,” I replied, not sure why I was stressing the point. Maybe it had something to do with the fine specimen of a man standing before me.

He was just the right height, the color of bubbling brown sugar, and he looked twice as sweet. I had the sudden urge to lick him like a lollipop to see if it gave me a sugar rush.

“Would you like a mug of coffee before we get started with the shoot?”

“No, thanks!” Lawd knows, I was nervous enough without caffeine intervening. I was about to get my picture taken, I hadn't been laid since I was promoted to the Vice President of Promotions, and a sexy-ass man was within striking distance to me.