A Weekend Affair (5 page)

Handsome, smart, and altruistic? Color me intrigued. I liked the direction the conversation was going in.

“You keep saying ‘our company.' I'm assuming you mean yours and Carl's.”

“Yes. Electron Enterprises. We specialize in computer chips.”

He reached in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, and fished out a business card, handing it to me. According to the card, Diego was the chief financial officer of the company; the moneyman. Impressive. Of course, anyone could hand you a business card nowadays and say they owned a company. Heck, I could create some great-looking business cards from Vistaprint, or on Microsoft Publisher, for that matter, and have people believing I owned a company too.

“Check out our website. Google us. We are actually a Fortune 500 company, and our employee satisfaction rating is one of the highest in the world,” he boasted.

It appeared that he was once again reading my mind, because I fully intended to look them up the first chance I got.

“I'll do that,” I said. “And I think I'll make it a point to stop by your booth too.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn't,” he said, flirtation in his tone. “But enough about me. Tell me more about you. What do you do?”

“Actually, I'm a doctor. I work in sports medicine.”

Diego had a sly look on his face. “Beauty
and
brains. Nice.”

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling very self-conscious.

At that moment, I felt an awkward pause coming. Luckily, Shell and Carl returned to the table.

“Everything okay over here?” Carl asked, looking at Diego.

“We're doing just fine,” Diego replied.

It could have been my imagination, but it seemed as if he was trying to give Carl the hint to get lost.

Before I could give any more credence to that thought, Shell broke in, “Carl, I have go to the ladies' room. Gabby, care to accompany me?”

While I was glad for the opportunity to get up and stretch my legs, I could tell by her tone of voice that Shell had something on her mind. “Sure. Diego, will you excuse me?”

He stood, and as he did, I realized how much he towered over me. Even in four-inch heels, he was more than a head taller than me. It was like he was the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, and I was like, well . . . Jack.

He moved out of the way, allowing me to pass, but as he did, he leaned down, whispering in my ear, “Don't take too long.”

I turned around, smiled at him, and said, “I won't.” I think I put a little extra sway in my swagger as I walked to the ladies' room.

Once inside, I quickly spoke before Shell could utter a word. “Okay, what's wrong?”

“What makes you think something's wrong?” she asked, as she leaned against the solid black granite counter with a red marble sink.

Her eyes were cast downward looking at her shoes.

I leaned back against the black and red tiled wall, crossing my arms in front of me. “For one, I could hear it in your voice. Two, you can't even look me in the eyes. So, again, I ask you, what's wrong?”

Taking in a deep breath, then sighing, she replied, “Carl.”

“Oh boy. What's wrong with him?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow and tilting my head to the side.

She began pacing back and forth in the large bathroom that was bigger than those at some airports. “Nothing. That's just it. We talked, we danced, and I enjoyed it. Really enjoyed it. Then I thought about Malik and our marriage. One very fucked-up marriage, but a marriage nonetheless.”

As she walked back in my direction, I stopped her midpace, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Shell, look at me.” She reluctantly complied. “The reason why we're here in the first place is to get your mind off of Malik and, as you so eloquently termed it, your effed-up marriage, so thinking about either of those subjects totally defeats the purpose. Besides, it was just conversation and dancing. I don't see the harm,” I gently chided, removing my hands from her shoulders.

“But that's just it, Gabby. It didn't feel that way to me. Aside from Professor Hall, I haven't had that much fun talking to a man in a long time. He's intelligent, engaging, and actually asked me what I thought about things, like my opinion actually mattered.”

“Unlike Malik,” I quipped, causing her to roll her eyes at me. “I'm just saying. Am I wrong?”

“No, you're not. And that's why I started thinking about Malik.”

“Well, that's a real buzz kill,” I scowled. “Tell me, Shell, what exactly did you and Carl talk about? You two couldn't have been out there for more than, what, ten, maybe fifteen minutes?”

“I know it wasn't a long time, but we talked about a lot of things; school, politics, the law. Things I'm interested in. And it was like he was actually interested in what I had to say. He didn't make me feel stupid or insignificant.”

Apparently this man was in the right place at the right time, just when Shell needed him to be. He gave her a much-needed boost in the self-confidence department. Unfortunately, that boost came from a man who had on a wedding ring. “I'm glad Carl made you feel good about yourself, but Shell, you do realize he's married, right?”

“Yes, he mentioned it briefly. From what I gathered, his wife is a piece of work, and the marriage is on the rocks.”

“Hmph, I bet that's the same thing Malik told Janay.” The look in Shell's eyes told me I may have pushed the envelope with that last comment. I didn't mean to be so brusque with her, but I needed her to understand that people can lie if it suited their purposes. “Sorry, I just don't want you to be taken in if Carl's not being honest with you. Who knows? He could be telling the truth, but even if he isn't, you shouldn't feel guilty about chatting with a man who can actually hold a conversation, and who actually listened to what you had to say. Okay, so you may be romanticizing things a bit, but so what? It's not like you're going to run off into the sunset with this man, right?”

“True, but I do feel a bit guilty. I'm enjoying spending time with a man who's not my husband. I should feel that way about being with my husband.”

This time it was my turn to sigh. “And yet you don't, and we both know why. And I can guarantee you Malik is not feeling one sense of guilt over being with someone else. If he did, his lying, cheating, trifling, slimy behind would be back home with his wife and children. But, alas, he's not. You're not cheating, Shell, you're just letting off some tension in a harmless manner. As long as you don't cross the line, it's all good.”

Deep down, she knew I was right. She huffed and replied, “I guess you're right. It's not like I'm gonna sleep with the guy or anything. We'll never see these guys again after we leave here anyway, so what's the harm?”

I fake coughed, pretending to clear my throat. “Welllllll, I'm not so sure about that last part,” I said.

“Why not?” Now, Shell was the one to cross her arms in front of her.

“Diego and Carl have a booth at the fair, so there is a chance we may run into them.”

“What kind of booth?”

“Doing health assessments. They own a company, and, according to Diego, they are very much into community service.”

“Company? Carl never mentioned anything about a company.”

“Maybe he doesn't like talking about himself. You know I don't like talking about myself. Regardless of his reasons for not saying anything, Diego did give me his card.” I handed it to Shell. “He said to check them out.” We looked at each other, pulling out our cell phones at the same time. “I'll check the company Web site. You Google the company.”

Shell and I discovered that Diego and Carl did indeed own Electron Enterprises. We also found out that it was one of the fastest-rising companies in the country, boasting over 25 million dollars in profits within two years, well on their way to making billions in profits within the next five. That was impressive for a relatively new company. And Diego was also telling the truth when he said the company had a strong focus on community service.

Not only did they sponsor health fairs, but food and clothing drives, literacy campaigns, and a whole host of other community service projects. They also had an on-site employee health facility, as well as a day care for the children of employees. Shell found links to articles where they were profiled in both
Black Enterprise
and
Forbes
magazine. Now I was
really
impressed. Not by the fact that Diego had money, because men with money never impressed me, but by the fact of how he got his money, and that he gave back. I found that very attractive.

“Looks like we all have something to talk about when we get back out there,” Shell said, a slight smile on her face. “But before we do, tell me, what happened with you and Diego?”

“Nothing happened with me and Diego. We talked the entire time.”

Glaring at me, she said, “Gabby, you're going to tell me you two only talked business?”

“Now I didn't say that.” I flashed her a slick smile. “We talked about other things too.”

“Like?”

“The fact that we're both unattached for starters.”

“Really? And who started that conversation?”

And she accused
me
of sounding like someone's mother.

“He did. And before you go any further, just because we're both single doesn't mean I'm ready for any kind of relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Shell teased. I was glad she was able to find some levity, despite what was going on with her. “I'm just saying if the opportunity to have a little fun presents itself, just roll with it. After all, unlike me, you are single. And if anyone deserves a bit of gratuitous fun, it's you, my friend.”

“Shell, you know darn well I'm not the ‘roll with it' type.” I made air quotes with my fingers.

“Well, maybe for once you should be.” There was a seriousness to her tone.

“Anyway, I think we've kept them waiting long enough. Shall we?” I held the door open.

As we exited, Shell replied, “All I'm saying is, never say never. The night is still young.”

I remembered one particular line that the hostess said to Shell and me earlier in the evening: “We do hope your night is a memorable one.” Shell was right; the night was still young . . .

Michael Buble's rendition of “Sway with Me” livened the place up as the singers took a break. The jazz band was all into the jubilant mood of the patrons. They were all smiles as they made love to their instruments and looked out onto the dance floor. The way Carl had been holding me as we moved in sync should have made me run for the hills. Not to mention, for a man of his stature, he was light on his feet and guided my movements as any good dance partner should.

As a married woman, no other man should have been sending jolts of electricity up my spine the way Carl had done. But it had been too long since I'd felt that all-knowing spark, that spark of sexual desire. The heat between a man and woman that left no doubt the sexual tension was thick. I couldn't explain why when Carl looked at me, everything that made me a woman came to life. The look he gave me reminded me that I still had life inside.

He didn't see me just as a mother and a wife. He'd held me like I was a woman,
his
woman. Which was odd since he was married too. I hadn't felt like a woman in a while. I felt like I was just going through life. I was mommy, wife, student. There was no particular order to it either.

“Were you telling me the truth about what's going on with you and your wife?” I'd asked Carl as we swayed on the dance floor.

With one hand on my waist and the other on the small of my back, he gazed down at me. “Why do you ask?” he replied.

The smirk on his face and humor in his eyes alarmed me if for no other reason than I knew what he was thinking. No man looked at a woman the way he was looking at me unless he had every intention of sampling what she had to offer. Even though I was quite tipsy, I still had my senses about me. There would be no sampling of anything I had. Especially not when both of us were married. For some reason, no matter what Malik had done, I couldn't bring myself to do unto him as he had done unto me.

“Your wife wouldn't have a problem with you eye hustling me? Dancing with me like this?” I asked.

“I really don't think she would care one way or the other.”

His answer made me imagine the conversations Malik had with his whore. “What kind of wife do you have?”

“The kind who only cares about what she wants.”

In that brief moment, I saw a flicker of darkness cloud his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. If I was to be honest, I could admit that his wife sounded a lot like my husband. So, I knew that look in his eyes. Still, I would never be the woman to speak badly about her husband to another man, especially one I didn't know. I should have realized the cheese was rotten in Denmark in that moment. Maybe it was because of the woodsy, spicy smell of the cologne he had on that I overlooked those signs. The scent carried an herbaceous top note reminiscent of fresh frankincense. I felt as if I was being hypnotized.

Gazing up into his eyes while he smiled and talked had the potential to be my undoing. I should have been ashamed of myself acting like a high school girl in heat instead of a mature, married mother of two. I couldn't help myself though. All I could think about was how sexy Carl was in every aspect. He was a gentleman through and through. Someone had taught him the importance of making a woman feel she was worthy of chivalry. Not to mention, he was a great distraction to take my mind off Malik.

“You having a good time so far?” Diego asked once Carl and I walked back over to the table.

I noted the light accent—Spanish, if I had to guess—in his voice. The smile he carried was a mesmerizing one, and I could tell those two together were lady killers.

“So far, so good,” I answered.

The four of us discussed how well the club was set up and the great talent of the band. Diego and Carl ordered another bottle of wine. I knew I shouldn't have had anything else to drink, but when Carl placed another glass into my hand, I eagerly took it. While Carl bobbed his head to the music, I tried not to pay attention to the way his muscled thighs rubbed against my mine each time he would tap his feet to the beat. I ignored the strong chiseled chin. Shook my head at how smooth his chocolate skin was. Couldn't help the fact I wanted to run my hand through his locs and see what they would look like hanging and swaying around his shoulders.

Once again, my mind shifted back to Malik. I slyly checked my phone to see if he had tried to call me again. Nothing. It was clear that he just didn't give a fuck. It had me trying to figure out at what point I had lost my husband.

I tried to get back to the moment at hand. The conversation was going well. Carl was even comfortable enough to pick up one of the extra forks on the table and taste the crab cake that I hadn't eaten. We ended up sharing while Diego tried to figure out why Gabby wasn't interesting in dating.

“You both live in ATL?” Diego wanted to know.

Gabby shook her head. “I live in North Carolina.”

“Oh, I see,” he responded.

“You're originally from Atlanta?” Carl asked me.

I shook my head. “No. I grew up in Mississippi until I was about thirteen. Then my mother met my stepfather, and he moved us to Atlanta.”

He chuckled. “What a coincidence. My mother is from Mississippi.”

“Yeah? What part?”

“Yazoo County.”

“Wow, that's pretty close to me in Holmes County.”

“I'll take that as saying we were meant to meet eventually.”

“Because your mother and I are from the same state?” I asked with a laugh.

He nodded as he wiped his mouth with a red cloth napkin. “That, and the fact that you felt me watching you.”

I couldn't lie. There had been something in the air that pulled my attention toward the bar. There was that feeling you get when you either felt somebody was following you or someone was watching you. I'd felt that energy strongly.

I took a sip of my wine, glanced out onto the dance floor, then back to Carl. “How do you know that?”

“I felt it when you looked at me. And when you didn't immediately break eye contact, I knew you could feel what I was feeling.”

“I don't know what feeling you're talking about,” I lied.

He knew I was lying, but being the gentleman he was, he wouldn't call me on it. I'd actually been feeling him since the moment I laid eyes on him, but there would be no way I'd tell him that. I didn't hide the fact that the ring on his finger had my attention though.

He saw me looking. Made a show of removing his ring and dropping it in his shirt pocket. Then he picked up his drink, Crown Royal on ice, and took a sip.

“Doesn't mean shit to me if it doesn't mean shit to you,” he said nonchalantly.

I shook my head in disbelief, then found myself getting angry. Is this what married men did when they met new women? Act like the vows they took meant nothing?

I told him, “I'm not taking my ring off.”

“You don't have to. I took mine off to make you comfortable.”

“It wasn't bothering me.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “That's good to know.”

Even before finding out Malik had cheated on me, he and I hadn't had sex in a while. Probably more so my fault than his at this point. But that was only because Malik had forgone the foreplay part of sex. His idea of asking me for sex was asking me to “handle his dick.”

As the night progressed, Carl and I kept the conversation light. The flirting crept in occasionally. The alcohol was getting to me. My breasts had swelled, nipples hardened, and my lotus had definitely bloomed. I crossed my legs to stave off the crippling feel of needing to release. I hadn't had an orgasm in over a year. Carl moved closer to me once the group started singing again. His eyes never left mine as the pad of his thumb traced my lips. I could feel every pressure point I had burst alive. His touch made me feel like I was the only woman in the world and the only one who mattered.

I remembered a time when Malik had made me feel that way. Remembered when he would take his time to kiss me like he didn't want to forget my taste. Over the past year, his idea of foreplay had been a quick lick on my pussy and a tap against my clitoris. I missed the days when Malik used to take his time with my body. He used to lick me from the front to the back. There hadn't been a place on my body that Malik's tongue hadn't been. Hell, his favorite pastime used to be tossing my salad. These days we barely kissed.

I couldn't get past the nicotine and the smell of smoke to kiss him like I wanted to, and he didn't seem to care whether I kissed him or not. And now I knew why . . .

Kissing.

Damn, it had been a long time since I had been kissed so thoroughly. Malik hadn't taken the time to let his tongue trace the outline of my lips before nibbling on the bottom one, then sucking it into his mouth. He placed one hand on my waist to ease me closer to him while the other one gently caressed my face as our tongues danced the night away.

Nah, Malik didn't let his tongue hit the roof of my mouth and send chills back down my spine. Malik's kisses had been a question mark, while Carl's kiss was the exclamation point to my arousal.

Oh shit,
my mind cried.
Shell, you're kissing another man, and he's not your husband. You're kissing another woman's husband,
my mind screamed, but for the life of me, I wouldn't be able to stop if I wanted to. Carl's kiss was slow, steady, and deliberate. It was clear he was set on sampling me one way or the other.

His kiss had been a prelude to passion, a rapport enacted physically with the promise of something more erotic to come. I was in trouble. The thrill of experiencing something I hadn't in over a year, a mind-numbing orgasm, and something I'd never experience . . . a man with length and girth. I'd already started praying to the sex gods that Carl knew what to do with all he was packing. I was so heated, my nipples had started to push through the fabric of my bra causing a slight tingle of pain that stimulated me more.

When Carl's hand moved down my waist to roam over the curves of my hips, I didn't stop him. That same hand gripped my thigh and when he moaned into my mouth, I was pretty much his to do with what he wanted.
Damn, bitch, you're easy,
my conscious screamed.
You're a whore just like the woman screwing your husband,
my mind yelled once more.

I tensed when Carl's hand gripped the back of my braids. Something about that aggressive move made me feel more alive. I got brazen in my dance with the devil. Allowed my hands to travel up his thighs. One hand fondled the length I felt behind his zipper, and the other mapped the muscles in his chest. I could feel what made him a man anatomically swell so regally under my intense scrutiny.

Carl pulled back from the kiss, growled low as he looked into my eyes, then said to me, “He doesn't matter to me, if she doesn't matter to you.”

I knew what he was asking. Knew what he wanted. I held the answer to his question.