Chapter 18 Maya
Chapter eighteen
Maya
Mom and Dad are positively glowing with happiness.
Rather than a banquet hall, they chose their backyard for an elegant anniversary soiree, complete with white twinkle lights, orchid flower arrangements, and a live band playing love songs from Al Green and Stevie Wonder.
They descended the steps of their deck like royalty, and the new pastor at Union Temple Baptist Church helped them renew their vows for another forty years.
I spent my first night back home judging potential anniversary party outfits; Mom ultimately went with a dove gray, full length gown with a bead and lace bodice.
Like me, her locs reach past her waist, though her crown has been almost fully gray for decades.
She looks stunning, like Angela Basset in "Black Panther".
My father, on the other hand, looks a little like Arnold Schwarzenegger if he were 6'3" and as dark-skinned as Wesley Snipes.
His Caesar cut has started showing salt and pepper on the temples and he has an impressive beard.
He looks particularly dashing next to my mother in a henley collar shirt and a bronze metallic suit.
Leaning against the open bar watching them slow dance, I look at my romantic role models in awe, trying not to sulk that I haven't found a love like theirs. Then another text comes in.
Adam
Adam: You can't tell me you're wearing thigh highs when you're 200 miles away. :(
Oops. Was that me being a tease again? ;)
Adam: Naughty, naughty. Maya.
Adam: I'm starting to think you WANT me to spank you. ;)
My cheeks immediately redden and I can't stop the smile forming on my face. As the band takes a break and I formulate a steamy response, Mom joins me at the bar. I quickly shove my phone in my clutch.
"Two champagnes, please."
She's out of breath from dancing and a light sheen of sweat covers her forehead. How does she even look regal sweaty?! She leans back, facing the dance floor, and nudges me with her elbow.
"So when are you going to tell me about the boy who's had you worked up all weekend?
" She's looking pointedly at my purse with the "mom" twinkle in her eye that says there's no point in denying it.
Still, I've always been hesitant to discuss men with my parents.
As soon as they hear the word "boyfriend", they start browsing wedding venues and dropping hints about grandchildren.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mom," I say, with what I hope sounds like indifference. Time to change the subject. "The ceremony really is beautiful. You did a fantastic job."
She looks like she might not take the flattery bait, but her eyes soften as she surveys the party.
"Thanks, honey. It's a shame you won't get to join us in church tomorrow. The pastor is making a special anniversary announcement during service." I do my best not to roll my eyes. I might be able to avoid telling my mom about Adam, but a trip home isn't complete without a serving of guilt.
"I know. I'm sorry, Mom. Something came up at work and I have to get back early." Mom raises an eyebrow and looks at Dad mingling with friends and family.
"Hmmm. I thought you left Sharp, Smith I've got a train to catch.
The hot water washes over me and I feel the tension from the train ride swirl down the drain.
I am so glad I decided to catch the Amtrak home tonight.
Mom and Dad looked amazing and forty years is definitely worth celebrating, but one night on the pullout couch in the living room is more than enough.
That and I've been so anxious to see Adam all day, I'm practically sweating.
Last night, we had phone sex so erotic, my climax would have woken up my parents if I hadn’t grabbed a throw pillow to cover my mouth in time.
Then all day today he sent me sweet and sexy texts that made me want to climb the walls.
I had no choice but to tell my mom I had to leave right after the party.
I felt bad for lying, but her sly smiles every time I left to answer a text made it seem like she may have guessed the real reason I was leaving early.
I dry off and use my favorite vanilla sandalwood body butter. I rub the cream all over my thighs, breasts, stomach; anywhere I think Adam might touch. I dab pink pepper perfume on all my pulse points and the top of my mound. He’s commented on my smell before and I want to be irresistible tonight.
I choose a black lace thong and a strapless black and purple lace bra before shimmying into an off-the-shoulder, black, bodycon dress with plenty of ruching to accentuate my assets.
Finally, I slip on a pair of black stilettos.
I can’t wear them for more than an hour, but I don’t plan to.
I look in the mirror and see a pinup vixen staring back at me.
If my flirty texts back didn’t get him worked up, this outfit definitely will.
On the way to Adam's apartment, I listen to Floetry, Sade, Jill Scott, and Maxwell. The music sets a sensual mood and strengthens my resolve. Though I'm still a bit nervous, I'm positive tonight will not end on the phone.
I find a spot right in front of his place and receive a few whistles from passersby that confirm I look as hot as I feel. Adam answers the intercom moments after I buzz him, sounding a bit drowsy. This ought to wake him up.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I say, doing my best Kathleen Turner impression. “It’s me.”
He buzzes me in with lightning speed and opens the door just as I reach the top of the stairs. He’s barefoot and wearing nothing but jeans and a lopsided smirk. The heat in his eyes sets me on fire.
“Maya.” He smiles roguishly as he looks me over from head to toe. “I thought you were out of town.” From the look on his face, the arrogant bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me all night and day. I had no choice but to come.
He steps aside to let me in. As soon as the door is closed, he grabs me and kisses me like something out of “From Here to Eternity”.
His hands are everywhere, feeling my ass, my hips, my waist, nearly ripping the fabric covering my breasts.
He pushes inside to feel my stiff peaks and moans roughly against my mouth.
He leans his forehead against mine, still breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “but you knew what you were doing with that dress.” I’m gasping from the kiss, my hands resting lightly on his chest. I can feel the goosebumps on his smooth skin.
“I brought wine,” I say, still leaning against his forehead. He intertwines his fingers with mine and pulls me in the direction of what I assume is his bedroom.
“Later,” he growls.