6. Myraj
I had fun today at the panels I attended.
There were plenty of discussions about authors who chose to be a faceless brand to focus on the art versus the authors who showed up at the conferences and workshops.
They discussed the advantages of anonymity, such as privacy and creative freedom, versus the challenges of marketing and logistics.
The authors on the panel who showed up discussed being able to build their brand and connect with readers versus loss of privacy and vulnerability.
When they asked which authors we wished wouldn’t remain anonymous, there were a few names mentioned, including the one I loved most, MJ Stone.
She was an amazing writer with an authentic voice, and we all wanted to connect with her on some level, but she refused to identify herself.
That led to much speculation as to whether she was a Black woman or another race, old or young, someone we already knew, or if she had some sort of handicap or scars that prevented her from going public.
Although I had fun, I couldn’t wait to meet up with Micaiah. At the end of the evening, I raced back to my room, showered, and headed for the rooftop.
I smelled the unique, sweet aroma of the blunt before I saw him. I followed my nose around the little corner until I saw him on a lounge. He was hunched forward wearing a red hoodie and black denim shorts.
The weather was as odd as his choice of clothing. It had been a warm seventy degrees, but the nighttime temperatures dropped to around fifty or just below that. It was the month of February, but we were also in L.A.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I declared.
He laughed. “Come sit next to me and talk to me about what’s good.”
I took the spot that he patted, which was extremely close to him, but I wasn’t complaining. Once I settled on my butt, he set the blunt aside and wiggled his fingers at my feet.
I lifted them and watched as he removed my ballet slippers. “Do you have a foot fetish or something?” I asked when he finished removing my shoes.
“Or something,” he replied with a smirk.
I nudged him with my shoulder. It was interesting that I felt so close to the man, and I barely knew him. “You have no qualms about touching my feet, and you don’t really know me.”
“I know enough. I know that your feet are clean, you smell good, and you’ve got pretty feet.”
I found myself blushing like I often seemed to do around him. Rather than addressing his comment, I changed the subject. “Are you going to the ball tomorrow night?”
“Probably not.”
“Why not? Is security not allowed to go?”
He gave me an odd look before he shrugged and replied, “That has nothing to do with me.”
“Then why aren’t you going?”
“I’ll be heading out. I’ve got other commitments I have to get to. Are you going?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I sighed and replied, “It’s bad timing to come to a book conference when you’d rather be alone, but that’s my struggle right now.”
“My bad, I didn’t mean to crowd your space,” he commented with a wink.
I smiled at his teasing, but instead of replying, I sang the lyrics to Bootsy Collins’s “I’d Rather Be with You.” Micaiah bobbed his head and surprised me by joining in. When we finished, he commented, “You’ve got a nice voice.”
“You don’t sound too bad yourself.”
He put the blunt out as he looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes before he declared, “Come on. It’s about to rain.”
We headed back inside and took the stairwell down to his room.
I chatted about the workshops that I had attended, and he listened intently.
At one point, when we exited the stairwell, a few readers called out, “Hey, Mike.” He waved and headed in the opposite direction with his head down and hands stuffed in his shorts pockets.
“Micaiah.” I gasped when we stepped inside of his suite and the floor was covered with white rose petals.
He had dimmed the lights and “Get You” by Daniel Caesar and Kali Uchis was playing softly in the background.
My nose detected the hypnotic and sensual scents of oud and crimson rose.
There were dozens of candles all over the living room suite, leading to the bedroom.
The woody scent of the oud was intense, whereas the timely scent of rose lent a romantic vibe to the room.
“Have a seat and get comfortable,” he stated, removing his hoodie and walking to the fireplace.
I watched as he flicked it on before he washed his hands at the sink.
He then walked to the bar to pour us both a glass of peach flavored champagne.
It was the same one from the night before, and I had told him then that I loved peach flavors.
I was glad to see that he had ordered another bottle.
He opened the refrigerator and removed a tray that he set on the table before he returned to the bar to get our champagne glasses.
“What’s all this?” I asked, spreading my hands to indicate the champagne, chocolate covered almonds, and dark chocolate truffles.
“This is your special evening for you. You weren’t in the best space yesterday, but we ended the night on a positive note. I wanna do that again.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He fed me a chocolate-covered almond. “Finish telling me about today.”
I finished chewing before I spoke.
“I met a couple of my favorite authors and got their autographs. I’ve been meeting several authors this weekend, but every time I tried to get to those two, there was a crowd around them.
I had almost given up hope until during a bathroom break, one of them literally ran into me when I was coming out of my stall.
She was doing the potty dance, and bumped me trying to get in.
She told me to wait before leaving the restroom.
I did, and when she finished, her and the other author grabbed another lady to take a mini photo shoot of the three of us outside of the ladies’ restroom. ”
“Damn, talking about meet-cute.”
“Exactly. That’s what I said.”
“I hope you got a good background rather than a restroom sign that read, ‘Ladies.’”
I giggled. “We did. There was a big, bold abstract painting on a wall that had perfect lighting with two tall fake palm trees on either side of it. The other highlight of my day was the book signing.”
“How many books did you purchase?”
“Thirty-three books by amazing Black women.”
“There are a lot of amazing Black authors out here today.”
“Yeah, there’s a male author here, too, but I believe he writes mystery, and I’m not a fan of the genre.
I think it’s because I’m scary or whatever.
So, I haven’t met him or attended any of the events he’s been involved with, but if I were to run into him, I’d pay him the respect he’s due, but I won’t lie—I won’t be reading his books,” I stated, laughing.
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” He chuckled and smoothed a hand down my cheek and tipped my mouth open to pop a chocolate truffle inside. I moaned at the pleasurable taste and closed my eyes before I continued telling him how I had met some new book friends and won a raffle basket.
“Look at you. Yesterday, you were a bag of emotions. You gotta call today a win. What did you get?”
“Uhm, three hardback autographed books, a designer handbag, a two-hundred-dollar spa certificate, and a bottle of wine.”
“That’s wassup.”
“Yeah, I can’t complain. It was a beautiful day overall. How was your day?”
“Same ole, same ole with these events. I navigated crowds, focused on peace, kept calm, and made sure everybody had what they needed.”
I looked around at the setting tonight, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Micaiah, is all of this about you giving me what I need?”
His eyelids grew heavy, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Oh, girl. You’re a handful. What am I gonna do about you?” he asked, tracing my lips.
“Please me.”
“Come here.”
I moved toward him, and he lifted me onto his lap, sitting sideways, with my arm pressed against his chest. I turned my face toward him and stared into his warm, brown, magnetic eyes, and he gripped my chin and stared into mine.
“Are you sure that this is what you want?” he asked.
“I’m sure. I’ve thought about it all day, Micaiah, and I’ve looked forward to it even longer than that.”
“Beautiful, you don’t even know me.”
“I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime.”
“So, it’s not just me?”
“No. It isn’t. I know what you make me feel.
I know that you’ve been attentive to me in ways no one ever has been.
I watched you struggling with your own anxieties, but you pushed them aside to help me through a difficult time.
You stayed by my side until I was comfortably ready to return to my room. ”
He tipped my chin and kissed me sweetly. His lips were full and soft. When he pressed into them, I opened my mouth to him, and he drank from my sweetness. His tongue was cool and sweet like the champagne he drank.
When he pulled back, I spoke up as I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I want to use protection tonight, but I also wanted to show you my test results.”
He nodded his head and looked at the lab results on the medical app that I logged into. After I finished, he reached for his phone on the table in front of us and did the same.
Micaiah stared into my eyes and asked, “But what happens after tonight?”
“I will walk away with the most beautiful memory of a wonderful weekend that was as close to a fairytale romance that I will ever have.”
“Are you sure that you’re good with only that?”
“I’m sure. No expectations and no stress.”
Micaiah searched my face for a moment before he kissed me again. He gripped the back of my neck and held me in place to deepen the kiss, which was more intoxicating and sensual than the previous kiss. I placed my arms around his neck and moaned.
He pulled back again, and resting his forehead against mine, he stared into my eyes and made a vow. “I promise to be gentle with you and make this a pleasurable experience. All I ask is that you trust me to take care of you tonight.”
“I will.”
“Come on.”
He patted my butt, and I stood from his lap. He led me to the bedroom where a massage table was set up.
“Get undressed, and I’ll be back,” he instructed as he handed me a towel.
I took the cream-colored towel and waited for him to leave the room. My heart raced in my chest, and I turned to look in the mirror. “Myraj Nycolette Nicholson, are you really about to do this with this man?” I bit my bottom lip and frowned, but then I smiled. “Hell yes, I am.”