Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility) (38 page)

The orgasms he delivered were so unexpected
; it was unraveling.
Shit. I ran from one of them!
That was the awkward part of our experience. When I tried to regain control of our sexual excursion and he wouldn’t allow it. After the first vaginal orgasm, for some strange reason, I was frightened. The last thing I expected was euphoric sensations of a vaginal orgasm. My plan was to work him over, not for him to have my toes curling with explosions detonating from my core. It scared the shit out of me! So, when the first one was over I tried like hell to savage control so it wouldn’t happen again. As much as I’d enjoyed it—
and now look forward to it to happening again
—I hate surprises, especially in such a private manner. Azmir wasn’t hearing any part of it. It wasn’t that he was aggressive per se, he just didn’t agree to my control.

I could never share this with Michelle, she’d have my ass on a pitch for
k. And when he went down on me—my goodness…
the things he did with that tongue!
When he went into my vaginal canal, he did some type of flapping number and butterflied his extending tongue to reach my walls!

I felt myself getting aroused at the memory of it all.

“Ahhhhhh!” my patient, Brian, cried.

Damn!
I over-extended his flexor tendon.

“Have you been bending your knee and leaning forward? Remember that is to increase the knee flexion
,” I quizzed trying to cover up for my mind drifting off to naughty land.

Though I apologized
, I blamed him by scolding him for not doing what I asked. I knew it was wrong but—
hey!

“I’ve been doing a little
,” he strained to speak.

“You need to hold for between
ten and thirty seconds.”

I had become so randy that my clitoris was throbbing. I needed a release…I needed Azmir. While I busied
Brian by having him flex and straighten his leg, I paged Sharon.

“Sharon, do I have any messages?”

“Mr. Jacobs actually called since you’ve been in with your patient. He had something delivered for you. It’s in your office,” Sharon informed me.

“Oh…okay.” Excitement exploded in my belly and I shivered at the mention of his name.
What has he done?
The remainder of that session was nothing short of torture as it seemed to last an eternity.

I walked into my office to find the area across from my desk
transformed into a dining setting for one. It was unmistakably a private dining set-up with a tablecloth, a small vase filled with flowers, and one china plate covered by a metal salver, wine glass, one cloth napkin, two forks, a knife, and spoon. There was a candle lit with a card waiting for me. I walked over to the desk and picked up the phone to summons Sharon.

When she came in
, I fired off questions about the
surprise
waiting for me. She explained that it was from Azmir, which was the only reason she permitted them in my office. She assured me she supervised the set up that took less than five minutes.

I dismissed her and sat down to open the card that was typed:

The Most Delectable Ms. Brimm,

Regrettably, I’m not there to express my thanks for such an extraordinary
birthday. I have a meeting in Atlanta. Nonetheless, one delicious dish deserves a gourmet meal.

Let me know what you think about the food. I’m auditioning this chef for a job.

Call me.

A.D. Jacobs

My heartbeat increased and the tips of my fingers began to prickle. I removed the salver from the plate to find a wonderfully aromatic and succulent looking steak with a lobster tail, russet potatoes, and asparagus. Next to the plate was a description card of the meal that revealed the steak was fillet mignon.  My stomach began to growl from the tang.

I went for my cell phone to call
Azmir and he answered on the second ring.

“Is the steak melting in your mouth like butter? Were you able to slice right through it?”
Azmir’s voice never failed to do things to me.
Damn
.

“Ummmm…I haven’t had any yet
,” I muttered, embarrassingly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? A man’s livelihood is depending on you feasting well on that meal.”

“Okay.” I picked up the fork and knife and cut a piece of the steak. It was absolutely delicious!

“Mmmmmm!” I sighed. After that, I went for the lobster and dipped it into the small cup of melted butter. It was tender yet meaty.

“Pretty good! I’m hugely impressed,” I said with a mouthful.

“Ah…I see
,” he hummed in my ear not having a clue of what he was causing to stir inside of me. “Well, maybe we have to hire him. I’m trusting you on this,” he growled.

“Oh, wow! The pressure. I’m no culinary connoisseur, Mr. Jacobs. Maybe you should get a second opinion.” I was partially serious.

“Nah, yours will do. I meant what I said in the card.”

My panties began to puddle. This man had me going.

“I don’t want to keep you,” I said as I continued indulging.

“No. Wait. I want
to talk to you about something.”

“Okay…”

“
Yeah…ummmm. I have an event coming up that I’d like to invite you to. It’s a charity that I contribute to regularly…ummmm…a mentoring organization.”
Azmir stammering in his words?
My heart melted a little. I was intrigued. “I don’t typically go to things like this. You know…award functions for organizations I give to but this year I’m trying something new. Would you mind coming with me?” he continued sounding bashful.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind going. Thanks for asking
,” I murmured trying to hide my excitement. The truth of the matter was I felt like he was asking me out…making this peculiar place we were in make less abstruse. We’d slept together and were obviously interested in and attracted to one another.
Is this where he’s trying to make the next move toward officially dating?
I wasn’t trying to kid myself and put my feelings out there. If he wanted me, he’d have to make it known.

After agreeing to
go, Azmir said he had to go.
He always has to go
. I sat in my office and nearly swallowed every morsel on my plate. It truly was just as scrumptious as it was thoughtful. Fighting my sedative mood, I went into my next client with a belly full of food and my head flooded with images and hopeful thoughts of Azmir Jacobs.

By
four p.m., I received an e-mail from Azmir’s personal assistant, Brett, detailing the event of the charity Azmir invited me to earlier. I wasn’t overly familiar with the organization but could tell by the name of the venue that it was going to be formal. Anxiety blanketed me as I read the e-mail. I felt out of my league with the culture of the charity. I’d been to a couple of Smith, Katz & Adams’ charities but they were all in the context of work, I knew the people throwing the party.

It wasn’t until I got to the end where I
noticed Brett threw in a name and contact information for a stylist that would be fully expensed by Mr. Jacobs himself. Relief settled in even though I was uneasy about him paying for me to attend a function with him. I had a few weeks to consider it and had no desire to tell this man who I was now crushing on more than ever that I wouldn’t go out with him.

That night I went to dance class and started new choreography. Jimmie was hell on wheels with a few of the dancers’
lack of ability to remember the first few counts. I succeeded at staying beneath his radar the entire rehearsal. When I arrived home and went about settling in for the night, I felt a twinge of disappointment while lying in bed. I had not heard from Azmir. I fought with every fiber of my being to suppress my discontentment and to fall asleep, which I did eventually.

The following morning went off without a hitch,
literally
. I had a heavy flow of appointments that forced me to eat lunch at my desk to complete much needed,
and slightly delayed
, administrative work because my afternoon flow mirrored the morning’s. After work, I took on the dreaded task of doing my laundry. I had to chug several bags of dirty clothes to a local Laundromat since I didn’t have my own washer and dryer yet. While waiting for my loads to finish, I checked my phone for the hundredth time since awakening that morning
in case
I missed a text or call from Azmir.
Impossible!
More hopeful, I went into my e-mail,
those didn’t alert me when they hit my inbox
, but no correspondences from that of A.D. Jacobs. I was beyond sick with disappointment and had even started to doubt my sexual skills feeling he may not have felt the spark that I did the night of his birthday.
Was I too passive? Did I start off too aggressive?

I tried having an honest moment with myself and asked if what I missed about Azmir was his remarkable sex or something more substantial. I
also had to be real and consider that I was two days away from my period, one of the times during my monthly cycle where I am the most aroused hence my strong desire for intimacy
with Azmir
. Every time I thought about him lapping up juices from between my legs that night heat coursed through my veins. He was so aggressive and attentive to my body. It was as though he was studying as he was gratifying my body.
He made me come vaginally—several times!

All sorts of sensations undulated through my body there in the public Laundromat, I felt exposed. Whenever I got into a concupiscent mode like this and there was a
prospect
that I could call to help I never had a problem initiating sex. But this thing with Azmir was different. I understood he was a very busy man who traveled regularly and probably had women lined up in every town he jetted off to. I didn’t want to come off as desperate; I refused to. I finished my laundry and even folded it there, not wanting to return home too soon before turning in for bed and further torturing myself with lascivious memoirs of Azmir.

I cooked a warm meal that paled in comparison to what Azmir had arranged for me the previous day. My culinary
skills, though something I loved to do, lacked inspiration when I had no one to feed but myself. After eating, I took a very hot shower, more blistering than usual to soothe my bones. It further tormented me when I laid my overly-sensitized skin between my freshly laundered sheets. My nipples hardened and my thighs squeezed together to find relief from the nearly painful throbbing between them. In the flash of a nanosecond I thought of Azmir and decided to go for my phone. Once it was in my hands, my fingers started to tremble.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
It was useless for me to reach out to him seeing that he was probably still out of town anyway. I rocked myself to sleep that night and dreamed dreams of six feet four inches and two hundred twenty pounds of chocolate blanketing me with comfort and carnal release.

The following morning I slowly rose from the bed. After laying out my clothes
, I mounted the treadmill for only thirty minutes, which was half of my usual time on there. I sulked while dressing for the day and even passed on a sit down bowl of cereal, taking a banana and a granola bar with me instead as I headed out the door.

On my ride into work
, my phone rang. I knew it was Michelle calling to ask why she hadn’t heard from me the evening before and probably having a little gossip for me after that scolding. I
so
wasn’t in the mood. I felt like I’d made a huge mistake by sleeping with Azmir. Maybe the nostalgia had worn off sometime after arranging the lunch in my office. Maybe he was onto his next conquest and would even retract his invitation to the charity.

After the fourth ring
, I tapped my blue-tooth without looking at the caller’s I.D. As I tried to concentrate on merging onto the highway, I answered in a long reluctant sigh, “Hellooooo, dear,” I sang dryly awaiting the thrashing.

“Wow. An even better reception than I’d dreamt of.” His voice was velvety and mesmerizing. My heart started to flutter before I could fully process his name. My breasts swelled and my breath hitched.

“Azmir?” I was all breath and fleeting composure.

I could hear his breathing caught and then he slowly let it out, something I was sure he was unaware of.
What does that mean?

“Yes, it is. Were you expecting someone else at this hour?”

What?
“No.” I exhaled. It was then that I realized I was holding
my
breath. “I just…I am surprised to be hearing from you.”
It’s been so long!

“Oh? Why
is that?” The silkiness his vocal chords produced flowed through my earpiece,
if only I can take some time to gather myself
. I felt like I was slipping into a pool of seduction.

“Well, I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days is all.”
There. I said it!

“I could say the same about you, Ms. Brimm. I haven’t heard from you and I woke up this morning purposed to do something about it.” There was a brief pause and I’d wondered if he could hear the pulse from my carotid artery because scorching blood was rushing through my now extremely delicate body. Then he spoke slowly and resolutely, “Do you trust me?” His voice deepened and had become desperate even.