Denim
There’s no denying it. Jamila is absolutely stunning and her body is unbelievable.
Her golden-brown skin is smooth as hell and she’s blessed with curves and a thickness many other women have to purchase.
I deserve a medal for exercising as much restraint as I have in keeping my eyes to myself.
I mean, I’m looking. I can’t help that shit but I’m not looking nearly as much as I want.
However, when she walks out of the bathroom with her hair down and a slight hint of color on her beautiful full lips, I can’t stop staring.
“You ready?” she asks, breaking my trance.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage to get out.
She walks toward the door and I grab my cell and wallet from the small desk and join her.
After opening the door, she walks out first and we head to the elevators.
The restaurant is off to the right once we get off.
We check in with the hostess and are seated immediately at a booth by the huge windows.
Before walking off, she takes our drink order—a coffee, two waters, and an apple juice.
“It’s covering half the window,” she comments on the snow, astonished.
“And it’s still failing. They are expecting more inches by nightfall.”
“I need my camera.”
“You can use my phone.”
“No. No, thank you though. My real camera. It’s upstairs in the room. I’ll be right back,” she says then stands.
“I can get it.”
“It’s packed up in my things. I got it. If they bring my coffee, please send it back. I can’t drink it unless it’s piping hot.”
“I got you.”
As she walks out of the restaurant, my eyes hawk her every movement. Damn! She’s perfect.
“Good morning,” a soft voice says, jarring me from Jamila.
“Morning.”
“I’m your server, Shelia. Your drinks will be right out. Are you ready to order?”
“Actually, we need another ten minutes. Can you please hold the coffee too until my companion returns? She wants it hot but you can bring out the other drinks.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back.”
When she struts away, I lift my cell from the table and check the weather. From the looks of the forecast, I might be stuck here until Wednesday for real. It’s expected to snow until late Monday night. This shit is crazy.
My office isn’t expecting my return until Tuesday but I still need to let my practice manager Lechelle know so she can make arrangements if my absence is extended.
So I send her an email and a text. She texts back almost immediately informing me that she’s handling everything.
I didn’t expect anything less. Sheila returns with our drinks and when she does, Jamila walks in.
She’s removing her camera from around her neck as she treks over to our booth.
As soon as she sits down, she shivers. “Shit! It’s cold out there.”
“You went outside.”
“Just inside the doors. I just had to capture the snow. The sun is out but there’s still a beautiful yet ominous grey hue in the skies.
It’s breathtaking,” she says with so much passion.
After examining her camera, she eases out of her side of the booth and joins me on my side.
She extends the camera in front of me. “Look at this.” She shows me about five different images and each one is truly beautiful.
She has managed to capture the snow in unique ways.
“This one is my favorite,” she gushes as she enlarges the photo.
“See how the sun is reflecting at the perfect angle on this plant. It makes it look alive,” she says with so much passion.
“It is beautiful. Are you a professional photographer? These are too good for a hobby,” I compliment.
With a huge smile across her pretty ass face, she answers with pride, “Professional and recreational, actually. I just love taking pictures. I get to experience life through my own lenses. What do you do?”
“I’m a dentist.”
“Wow! So I really should be calling you Dr. Denim.”
“Denim is cool.”
Her hand suddenly covers her mouth. “Oh God! My little gap must be driving you insane,” she teases with a laugh.
“It’s very small and a character trait. It suits you,” I admit.
I definitely noticed her midline diastema the first time we ran into each other.
It’s very small and actually adds to her beauty.
Most people keep them because in all honesty, gaps do not have a negative impact on oral health.
“Plus, it’s not my specialty. I specialize in oral and maxillofacial surgery. ”
“What’s maxillofacial?” she asks, carefully pronouncing her words.
“It basically focuses on diagnoses and injuries in the head, neck, face, and jaws. I focus on that and all other oral surgeries.”
“I can’t imagine how long you were in school. My five-year bachelor degree was long enough. And yes, I said five, not four. I took a year off to travel and photograph the world.”
“Where did you go?”
“Ghana, Nigeria, Panama, Puerto Rico, Spain, Jamaica, and Mexico.”
“Which country was your favorite?” I ask, thoroughly intrigued.
“My best moments were captured in Nigeria. West Africa is full of gorgeous sights and people. I spent two months there and learned a little Igbo but don’t quiz me though.”
“There’s a huge Nigerian population in CF but I don’t speak Igbo or Yoruba, just English and a few conversational words in Spanish. That’s all I got.”
“I go to Taste of Nigeria when I want to hear the language, eat some stew, and maybe practice some of my words but I don’t go too often.”
“I keep hearing about that spot; I need to go.”
“You definitely need to go. It’s delicious and seasoned to perfection.
” Sheila returns, interrupting. She has Jamila’s coffee, sweeteners, and a small stainless steel creamer dispenser.
When she places the items in front of Jamila, Jamila immediately doctors up her coffee and takes a sip. “Mmm, perfect.”
“Are you ready to order or will you be having our buffet this morning?” Sheila asks.
Fresh is always my preference, so I order a grilled chicken breast, eggs over easy, and home fries.
Jamila opts for a southwest omelet and toast. “Since you are a Diamond Elite member, you also get a free breakfast dessert. I recommend our pecan rolls.”
I glance at Jamila and she nods with a smile. “That’s fine.”
“They are served hot. I’ll bring them out after you enjoy your food.”
“Great,” I say.
“Oh, can you please bring out hot sauce and strawberry jelly with the food? And more hazelnut creamer. You can keep the French vanilla,” Jamila tells her.
“Volcanic or Tabasco?”
“No Louisiana?”
“Sorry.”
“Then just bring both please,” Jamila says and the server nods before walking off. “What is Volcanic?” she asks me.
“I’ve never heard of it but it sounds hot. I might try it.”
She’s still on my side of the booth, right next to me, and I honestly hope she remains cemented here. Her sweet but floral scent that commandeered our room has entranced me too. It’s uniquely her and I love the scent.
Fate or some other fucked up thing brought us together and I don’t know why but I do know I’m glad it did.
She’s unlike any woman I’ve been with, definitely a stark contrast to Maddox.
Even when I invested in her business, Maddox wasn’t as passionate about it as Jamila is about her photos.
Her eyes don’t sparkle with excitement like Jamila’s.
After placing her camera in its case, she places it on the other side of the table then looks at me. “Since you insist on not letting me pay for my share of the room, I got this and all of our meals while we are stuck here, okay?” she says.
“Not okay,” I tell her and she furrows her eyebrows.
I turn my body slightly to face her when I continue.
“Listen, last night was last night. This entire shit took us both by surprise and we had to adjust. I didn’t want to make it worse but I can’t…
Hell, I won’t let you pay for anything for me.
Nothing, Jamila. I’m not that type of man.
I got this and whatever else we need while we are stuck here.
And you are in the bed from now on. The sofa is mine.
I couldn’t sleep at all last night knowing I had you on that damn sofa. ”
“No, Denim! I can’t let you. This is too much! You can’t expect me to just let you take care of everything,” she tries to plead but I don’t hear her.
Whatever type of man she is used to isn’t me. I’m not him and I’m not about to make any woman come out of her pockets or comfort zone when she’s around me. I was bred that way and I’m not changing.
“It’s a good thing I don’t move on your expectations,” I say then smile. “Don’t fight me, just let me be the man I am.”
She closes her eyes and when she opens them, she shakes her head. After letting out a sigh of exasperation, she says sternly, “I’m tipping then. All meals.”
She’s stubbornly independent and I like it.
“You can have that.”
“Thank you, Dr. Denim, for letting me do something,” she replies with a smirk.
She takes another sip of her coffee and I drink some of my juice as we both stare out at the mountain of snow blanketing the ground. It wasn’t nearly this high on the ground last night when I stepped outside. It really piled up overnight.
Not even five minutes later, Sheila returns with our food and more hot coffee for Jamila.
After saying grace, we dig in and eat. There are so many messed up things about being stuck in this blizzard because Maddox decided to fuck another man but the hotel’s food and Jamila aren’t one of them.
I’m enjoying the delicious food and my captivating, beautiful companion.
“I normally don’t do desserts but if those pecan rolls taste like this, I might have to eat one,” I admit.
“I’m stuck and the itis is real. I could real shit crawl back on the sofa and take a long ass nap.”
“Crawl in the bed,” I correct her and she smiles while still rolling her eyes.
“Whatever. The bed. I hear you, sir.”