Passion's Price (15 page)

“But I’m kissing you, love.”

“Then take this thing off me. I want to feel your mouth on me. Unhook this bra.”

He yanked up the offending garment, bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Yes. I wanted it so badly. I needed you, yes. Put me down and get in me.”

“If you don’t slow down, honey,” he said as he unzipped her dress, “I won’t be worth a damn to either of us. I’ve been ready to pop since I saw you in the airport.” He put her on the bed, knelt and pulled off her shoes, hooked his thumbs under her bikini panties and stopped.

“Yes. Take them off. You’ve got on too many clothes.”

He grinned, but she didn’t care. She was going to have him, and she meant to do everything to him that she’d been dreaming about. He stripped so fast that she blinked in surprise as he pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, spread her legs and plowed his tongue into her.

She shrieked. “I can’t stand it!” Out of control, her hips began to roll as she undulated up to him. He stilled her with his hands and stood to place her lengthwise on the bed. When she saw his huge bulging sex, she reached for him, slid down, slipped him between her lips and sucked vigorously.

“Hold it. Baby, stop it.” He jerked away from her, picked her up, placed her where he wanted her, eased into her, bent his head and pulled her left nipple into his mouth. With a finger massaging her clitoris, he began to move in and out in a circular motion. She’d never felt anything like that with him. She thought she’d lose consciousness. It seemed as if he built a fire in her vagina, at the bottom of her feet and in every artery and vein.

“Is it good to you?” he asked her. “Tell me. Tell me you love it, you love me and you don’t want any other man.”

“I don’t,” she moaned. “Only you. Help me. I think I’m dying. Make it harder so I can burst, so it will come out. Suck my nipple some more. Oh, I can’t stand this.”

“Yes, you can. You love it. Give yourself to me.”

Suddenly he changed the motion and began to thrust deeply and powerfully, holding her still and letting her feel the man above her. Then she locked her feet around his hips, and he let her move, matching him stroke for stroke. She knew nothing beyond him and the awesome feeling of the orgasm that gripped her body. She felt herself clutch his penis and imprison it until he shouted aloud. “Darlene. Oh, Darlene. You’re my life.”

“I love you. I love you,” she moaned, and then blessed relief as she came slowly back to earth.

Minutes passed, and they said nothing, only held each other tightly. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks and brushed her lips. “We’re going to have to do something about this,” he whispered. “You’re so precious to me.”

“All those years,” she said, voicing a thought that awed her, “when I didn’t know a human being could feel this way…it seems so unfair. If I had never met you, do you think I could have had these feeling with someone else?” She hoped she hadn’t made him uneasy, for he was a long time answering.

“I think I understand your question, but I don’t know the answer. I’ve known other women, but I’ve never felt this way with any woman but you. You’re different inside and out. That may answer your question. Are you calculating your options in the event that you and I don’t make it?”

Darlene slapped his buttocks. “Trust me. That never entered my mind.” She gazed into his beloved face. “But if I lost you, I don’t think I’d ever feel this way again.
I’m… It feels so right, so natural. I’m not only happy with you, Mike. I’m content.”

“So am I.”

He hugged her and fell over on his back, holding her close to his side. She climbed on top of him, gave her imagination full rein, and when she finished with him, he threw his arms wide, panting for breath. Shaken to the pit of his soul.

“If I had to die now,” he said when he could breathe evenly, “I couldn’t object. I’ve had it all.”

W
ith one arm around Darlene’s waist, Mike rang Boyd Farmer’s doorbell, then nuzzled her cheek while he waited for the door to open. He was still strung out from the previous night when she loved him senseless. Her inexperienced fumbling, stroking, kissing and sucking kept him suspended between torture and unbearable pleasure for half an hour. He hadn’t known he could feel like that. He kissed her and looked up as the door opened.

“Come on in,” Boyd said. “I should have a guilty feeling about getting you out so early, but I don’t.” He hugged Darlene and patted Mike’s shoulder. “As soon as you make the coffee, Mike, we can sit down. I made some popovers, bacon, scrambled eggs, grits
and sausage, and you can have cantaloupe or orange juice—both, if you want it.”

Boyd had already set the table so Darlene and Mike sat down. Boyd joined them.

“This is wonderful,” Darlene said. “I’m surprised that you can cook.”

“Of course, I can cook. I wasn’t born wealthy, and neither were my parents. I could cook a decent breakfast when I was twelve, and I often did it. How do you like my popovers?”

Mike pulled himself out of his reverie. “They’re great. I could make a meal of these, some jam and coffee.” He was aware that they talked about trifling things. He and Darlene awaited Boyd’s message to them, and Boyd evidently wouldn’t speak of it until he’d finished his meal. He approved of that, because he didn’t like to discuss important things while he ate.

“I’ll clean up, Boyd,” Mike said when they finished eating. “You and Darlene make yourselves comfortable.”

As if he hadn’t said a word, Darlene began clearing the dining-room table, and Boyd rushed to help her. They cleaned the kitchen together, after which Mike took a pot of coffee and three mugs to the living room and put them on the coffee table. Boyd sat down, crossed his knees and drank some coffee.

“I know the two of you plan to spend the day together, so I’ll make this as short as possible. I was in on the beginning of your relationship, and I thought that first hour after you met that it would either be short and
explosive or long-lasting. The three of us know that I didn’t get it quite right. It’s still explosive, but you care more deeply for each other each time I see you together, far more deeply this morning than yesterday afternoon.

“Why am I telling you all this? I’ve been in your shoes, and I can see a crisis coming. I told you earlier that I wasn’t born wealthy. We were poor. I worked my way through school, opened a bicycle-repair shop and made enough money to start a business in a field for which I was more suited than repairing bicycles. I signed a contract to do some work for a company, and I fell in love with someone I met there. I will believe until I die that she loved the ground I walked on. We became engaged. Her father died, and her mother was useless for business matters, so she had to take over.

“Well, she suggested that we consolidate our businesses, but hers was so much larger than mine that I figured I’d be swallowed up. Her mother pleaded with me, and Justine—that was her name—pleaded with me, but I wouldn’t give in. Since I was here in Memphis and she was in St. Louis, there seemed no way for us to be together. Out of loyalty to her parents, she broke the engagement, but she went into a deep depression almost at once, and no one, including me, could bring her out of it. She eventually passed away.

“Listen to me now. I have wished every day since—and that was thirty-nine years ago—that I hadn’t been so stubborn, so pigheaded, that I had seen the benefits for both of us, and that I hadn’t been so foolish.” He leaned
forward. “I ache for her this very minute. I remember like it was yesterday. When I was with her, the sun shone brighter, the sky was bluer and nothing seemed impossible for me. I’m a shell of the man I was then and far less than what I might have been. And I’m not talking about age. I accumulated wealth and prestige, but I don’t have a family, not a child, not a rightful heir. I cheated myself.”

Mike sat motionless. Dumbfounded. He had come to know Boyd as a kind, friendly man who had a deep need for privacy. Yet, he’d just revealed everything to the two of them. He got up, walked over to Boyd and hunkered down in front of him. “I have never doubted our friendship, but I know now that I’m very important to you, that we both are, and I’ll remember everything you said and keep those words with me.”

Mike hurt to see the sadness in Boyd’s eyes. “I don’t think I could care more for my own child. I want you to benefit from what I told you.” He looked at Darlene. “And you, too.”

“You mean to say you’ve loved that woman for thirty-nine years?” Darlene asked Boyd.

“Forty, if you count the time that I had her in my life.”

She ran over to him and hugged his neck. “I’m so sorry, Boyd. I can’t tell you how much.”

“Just keep it in mind. Now, you two have a good time. Thank you for coming over.”

“Thanks for breakfast,” they said in unison.

Mike walked with Darlene to his car, holding her
hand as he did so, but he had a sinking feeling that they had missed something while Boyd told his story.

They went first to the Memphis Rock ’n’ Soul Museum, established by the Smithsonian to honor such luminaries as Isaac Hayes, Otis Redding, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, B. B. King, Al Green and others of that stature. “I didn’t know Johnny Cash sang rock and roll,” Darlene said.

“He didn’t, but Presley did.” They explored all seven galleries, pausing to listen to audios of the famous singers.

“Who was Otis Redding? He had a good voice, but I don’t ever remember hearing him before”

“That’s probably because he died in 1967, before you were born.”

They strolled on, stopping occasionally to gaze at one of the many peculiar phenomenas that characterized the street. A clown who limped because his legs were of uneven lengths stopped them and did a pantomime of a bird in flight.

“Are you lost, lady?”

“No. Why do you ask that?”

“Because you didn’t applaud me, and you didn’t tip me. That means you don’t know you’re on Beale Street. I’m working, lady,” the clown said.

“I don’t know your customs,” she said. “Talk to him.” She pointed to Mike. “He lives here.”

The clown sucked his teeth in disgust. “A local. They don’t know talent from ticks.” He turned, stopped another couple and began to display his talent again.

“Sorry about that,” Mike said. “I don’t walk this street much anymore. This is a tourist drag. I don’t suggest we spend the day in museums, although this town has enough to keep you busy for a week, but there’re a few more that I think are worth a visit.”

He took her to the Stax Museum of American Soul Music but, except for Aretha Franklin, he’d never been interested in the artists honored there.

“This place is like an homage to Motown,” Darlene said.

“I never thought about that. You’re right. Incidentally, I don’t think you should skip the Civil Rights Museum,” he said, although he’d seen it once and preferred not to see it again.

“All right, I’ll go.”

They arrived at the Lorraine Motel, and she looked up at the balcony on which a sniper’s bullet had ended the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Junior. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. He put his arms around her, hailed a taxi, and after they got in, she cried on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. We won’t go in there. Please don’t cry.” He rocked her as one would a baby until the sobs finally ceased. He couldn’t help thinking that something more than sorrow for that fateful April day and for the ancestors she never knew had generated those tears.
Something isn’t right. There is no joy, no merriment in her.

Figuring that what she needed was a different atmosphere, he suggested a picnic along the Mississippi
River. She agreed at once, and he bought a wicker picnic basket from a street vendor and drove to Porky’s. They checked the menu and placed their orders. “We’ll have two barbecued pulled-pork sandwiches, two orders of warm peach cobbler and a pint of vanilla ice cream in dry ice, two large containers of lemonade and some carrot sticks. Could you please pack it in this basket?”

“Yes, sir,” the waitress said. “Won’t take but a quick minute.”

When Darlene patted his knee, he knew that she sensed his concern and wanted to comfort him. “How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Well, I won’t say I’m fine, because I can’t lie to you, but I’m getting it together. Not to worry.”

As if his touch would banish whatever ailed her, he stroked her back and let out a long breath of relief when she leaned back into his arms and said, “You’re exactly what I need.”

He drove out Linden to within a block of the river, and they strolled over to the Beale Street Landing, sat on a bench and opened the basket. A gentle breeze seemed to clean the air, and he took a deep, fortifying breath. “Beale Street is so crowded that I thought you could use some fresher air,” he said.

She stretched out her legs and bit into a pulled-pork sandwich. “Beale Street is a bit overwhelming for someone coming from Frederick, but I enjoyed it.” She pointed to a steamer chugging up the river. “Is that one of those boats that goes back to pre-Civil War days?”

“Yes, it’s a paddle wheeler. We call them riverboats. They and the showboats were the trading and passenger boats of that day. I have tickets for a sightseeing, dancing and dinner cruise on a showboat this evening, so maybe we should get back home by three so you can get a nap or just rest.”

“Mike, why haven’t you ever married? You know why I haven’t. The more I’m with you and the better I know you, the more unbelievable it is to me that you’re still single. You’re everything a woman wants.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t much feel like talking about it, but she had a right to know. “I’m glad to know that you feel that way about me. I’ve had a few disappointments, one of them very serious. I was beginning to care a lot for her, and she led me to believe that it was mutual. But I discovered that she had an older man who took care of her financially, and she had me because her sugar daddy couldn’t satisfy her physically. I had wondered about her fancy clothes, but when she announced that she was spending three weeks in Europe after buying a new Mercedes, I didn’t see how she could do so much on her salary.

“I’m a detective, so I did my job. They didn’t see me at the airport when they checked in at the first-class counter. I asked the ticket agent for the man’s name, explaining that he dropped his gloves and that I wanted to give them to him. She wasn’t a quick thinker, and she gave me his name. I discovered that he was rich and married. I confronted her with it and put her out of my
life. That was nearly three years ago. When I met you, I definitely was not looking for a woman.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m so sorry that she hurt you. She was a fool, and by now, she knows it.”

“Maybe, but I never think about her.” He offered her a carrot stick. “I have to have at least one veggie with my lunch and my dinner, and I love raw carrots.”

“Me, too. You know, you have a way of clouding my thinking. I’ve been in Memphis almost twenty-four hours, and I haven’t called any member of my family to say I arrived safely. Why do you think that is?”

He hugged her to him. “Because you’re happy with me. Let’s go. I want you to be well rested so that you can enjoy the evening.”

“Next time I come, I’m going to cook dinner for you. I’m not crazy about the kitchen, but I know my way around in one. Besides, I don’t want you to think you have to spend the entire weekend entertaining me.”

“If I didn’t want to show you the city and to take you out, would I invite you to spend the weekend? I would not. Darlene, if you think you are burdensome in any way, then you haven’t accepted the way I feel about you. I want to take care of you, to make you happy in every way. When a man loves a woman, it’s natural for him to want that.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and her expression wary. “It’s not easy to believe that I’m so fortunate as to find a man like you. In my work, I encounter so many men and women who don’t seem to care if they wreck the lives of others or how many evil things they do.
You… Oh, Mike!” She opened her arms as they stood beside the Mississippi, the sun still high. “You’re a part of me. I love you with all my heart.”

He picked up the picnic basket with the remains of their lunch, slid his other arm around her and went back to his car. He wouldn’t risk kissing her in public. He turned on the ignition and drove away from the curb. “You do something to me. Something powerful. Something that goes beyond the hot stuff. We’re good together.”

“I know. You bring one surprise after another out of me. Six months ago, I didn’t know this Darlene.”

“Do you like her?”

“Oh, yes. I love her.”

For the time being, that was good enough. He accelerated and, fifteen minutes later, parked in the garage beneath the building in which he lived. Inside his apartment, he said, “I’m going to my room. You go to yours and get some rest. If you don’t, the evening won’t go as I planned. Something dressy, either long or short, for the evening would be perfect.” He kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

“Well, that couldn’t be plainer,” Darlene said as she closed her bedroom door. After tuning the radio to old favorites, she filled the bathtub with warm water, added lavender crystals, stripped and got in. Rubbing her skin with the sponge beside the soap tray, she had an urge to feel Mike’s hands roaming over her body, arousing and exciting her.

“All next week, I’ll want him and won’t be able to have him,” she said aloud, “so why can’t I…” She stopped herself. “He won’t like it if I manipulate him. Tyra would say I’m acting as if I should always have whatever I want when I want it, that I’m being a baby.” She took a deep breath. “That’s behind you, Darlene, so suck it up and wait till he brings you home tonight.”

Later, sprawled in bed, sleep wouldn’t come. She called her home to speak with Maggie, but only to help pass the time. “Hi, Maggie. This is Darlene.”

“I know who it is. So your plane finally landed.”

Darlene decided to have a bit of fun. “It was late. When I got to the baggage section, Mike was so far out of his mind that he literally ran to me.”