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  “Where did Janessa and Dvontè run off to?” Tempest inquired, realizing she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them for about an hour.

  “They’re probably out in my car, chillin’ and waiting on us. Dvontè got sick and tired of dodging all the women.”

  Tempest smacked her lips. “I thought he relished being the object of affection?”

  “Normally he does, but not today.” Geren held his hands up over his face, trying to hide the smile on his face. “These sistahs are out there. One woman flashed her sagging breasts at him in the parking lot at the church.”

  “Reallllllly?”

  “Absolutely!” Geren had a quick flashback of the woman’s breasts. They were touching her belly button, and it almost made him hurl.

  “What about you?” Tempest raised her eyebrow. “No woman exposed herself to you?”

  Geren put his hands back down and reached over to rub his thumb across Tempest’s right cheek. “Not yet, but the night is still young. Anything’s possible.”

  Tempest pulled back from him. She was nervous as hell. She started looking around the yard in an effort to divert her eyes away from Geren’s stare. “Well, it looks like the party is dying down. Why don’t we extend our well wishes to the bride and groom and go find Janessa and Dvontè?”

  “Sounds like a winner.”

  “Lawd knows I’m ready to take this dress off and toss it in the trash compactor.”

  Geren laughed. He couldn’t believe Tempest was still trippin’ off the dress. “You really do look nice Tempest. I mean that.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Kincaid,” Tempest replied, finally looking back at him. Damn, he was fine! “You’re rather dapper yourself.”

  She was getting up from the table when she heard a boom box start blaring from the back porch. She looked that way and noticed a bunch of drunk people, spread out in two lines. “Flashlight” by Parliament Funkadelic was cranking from the speakers.

  “Oh, no, a Soul Train line!” Tempest exclaimed.

  “I haven’t seen one of those in years,” Geren said, getting up from the table and standing behind her.

  Tempest swung around and looked at him excitedly, like she’d just won the Powerball. “Come on, let’s go down the line!”

  Geren took a long look at the couple presently going down the line. The man was doing the Freeze, and the woman was doing the Happy Feet. “You can’t be serious?”

  “Just one time,” Tempest responded, pulling him toward the porch by the elbow. “Pleassssssse!!!!! You need to loosen up a little.”

  Geren let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay,” he said, giving in. “If it means that much to you, but don’t expect me to do the Robot, the Moonwalk or jumping splits.”

  Tempest giggled. “I’m going to do the jumping splits!”

  Geren let that sink in for a second and asked, “You want my jacket. We wouldn’t want any accidental indecent exposure.”

  Tempest stopped dead in her tracks and punched him gently in the ribs. “Stop teasing me!”

  Geren chuckled, gazing at her protruding breasts. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I just had to throw that one in there.”

  Tempest reached her arms inside his jacket and started tickling him. “Are you ticklish? I bet you are.”

  “Tempest, quit!” Geren quickly pulled away, not wanting to confess that he was indeed ticklish. It just didn’t seem manly. He took her hand and started toward the porch again. “Let’s hurry up before the song ends!”

  CHAPTER 7

  the aftermath

  “boy, oh boy, that was some wedding!” Geren exclaimed, following Tempest up the stairwell to her third-floor apartment and admiring the view of her ass in the process.

  “Yes, it was,” Tempest replied. “I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun. I know I said just one turn in the Soul Train line, but—”

  “But we ended up going down the line fifty-eleven times,” Geren said, preempting the rest of her statement.

  They both laughed until they got to her apartment door. Geren couldn’t help but notice how long and thick Tempest’s eyelashes were while she rumbled through her purse for her set of keys. Even after dancing out there in that heat for more than an hour, Tempest still looked fresh and appealing to him.

  “If you think today was wild, you should have seen the bachelorette party last night. It was quite an experience.”

  “Really? What happened last night?” Geren inquired, his curiosity instantly piqued. “Did she have strippers?”

  “Of course,” Tempest replied. “But not just any ordinary strippers. They were buck wild.”

  “Word? Were they midgets?”

  Tempest chuckled as she slid her key into the lock. “No, these brothas were definitely not midgets.”

  “Buck wild in what way then?”

  “Trust me, you definitely don’t want to know all of that!”

  Geren decided to drop the matter. Apparently, it was one of those sistahgurl secrets women take to their graves. Just like men kept bachelor party happenings top secret. He was more interested in getting to know more about Tempest anyway. The bachelorette party was insignificant.

  Tempest went inside but Geren hesitated in the doorway, awaiting a formal invitation. Even though he had been inside earlier, Janessa had been there, and it was the middle of the afternoon, not the middle of the night. He didn’t want to assume too much too soon.

  After flinging her purse on the sofa, Tempest swung around to face him. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him when she saw him standing there with his hands buried in his pockets. He was a handsome brotha, there was no denying that.

  “Aren’t you going to come in?”

  “Sure!” Geren didn’t even try to mask his excitement. He came inside and closed the door behind him. “I didn’t want you to think I was being pushy or anything like that.”

  “Not at all,” Tempest replied, suddenly realizing she was alone in her place at night with a fine-ass man for the first time in quite a while. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Hmm, the usual. Soda, orange juice, spring water.” Tempest cracked a grin and then added, “Cherry-flavored Kool-Aid.”

  Geren licked his lips, and Tempest had the urge to lick them for him. He wanted to go for the Kool-Aid but didn’t want to risk a sugar rush so late at night. “I’ll take some orange juice, if you don’t mind.”

  Tempest motioned toward the sofa on her way to the kitchen. “Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  Geren plopped down on the sofa and instantly felt relaxed. He had no doubt he could easily fall asleep on the soft, thick cushions, especially as worn out as he was after dancing his ass off in the Soul Train line.

  He took a more detailed survey of Tempest’s apartment than he had earlier and was impressed with her African-American framed prints. The apartment was a mixture of dark furniture with lighter fixtures. He still couldn’t get over the fact that she was such a meticulous housekeeper.

  Drawn to a huge cabinet attached to one of the walls, he got up to make a closer inspection. There were six rows of alphabetized original copies of African-American videotapes. He spotted several he had heard about all of his life but never viewed, such as Mandingo, Imitation of Life, The Mack, Dolemite, Foxy Brown, and Shaft.

  “I’ve been collecting them since I was in high school,” Tempest whispered into Geren’s ear, startling him. He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. She was so close to him, he could smell the Lifesaver she had in her mouth—the mouth he was aching to explore with his tongue.

  He turned to face her and had to struggle to resist the urge to kiss her thick, juicy lips. He took the glass of orange juice she was holding out to him. “Thanks!”

  “Welcome,” Tempest replied, getting lost in his eyes. “So, do you like movies?”

  “Yeah, I love them! Obviously not as much as you, though.” Geren walked around he
r and went to sit down on the sofa. He didn’t want her to bear witness to the erection growing in his pants. “You have quite an extensive collection.”

  “Would you like to watch one? I know it’s getting rather late, but I’m a night owl anyway. I can hang if you can.”

  “Sure!”

  “Which one?”

  “How about The Mack?” Geren didn’t really care about watching a movie. He just wasn’t ready to leave Tempest just yet.

  “That’s cool with me.” Tempest giggled. She grabbed the video off the shelf, took it out of the case, and slid it into the VCR. Then she joined him on the sofa and sat extremely close to him. She shocked herself with that move. The old Tempest would have been pressed into the opposite corner with a toss pillow held up to her chest for added protection. For some reason, she felt comfortable around Geren. Any way she looked at it, that had to be a definite plus.

  The tape started, but Geren was too distracted by Tempest’s beauty to give a damn what Max Julien was doing on the thirty-two-inch screen. He was drawn in by her hair, her full, sensuous lips, the tiny dimple in her left cheek, but most of all, he loved the way she smelled.

  “So, Tempest, tell me a little about yourself.”

  “Like?” she inquired, batting her long eyelashes at him.

  “Anything and everything. I’d like to know it all.”

  Tempest put her knee up on the sofa so she could face him. “Well, let’s see. I was born on a cold October night in nineteen—”

  Geren chuckled and held up his palm. “Well, maybe not everything.”

  Tempest blushed. “You did say you wanted to know it all.”

  “Let’s narrow it down a bit. How about the abbreviated version?”

  “In that case, ask me a particular question, and I will give you a specific answer.” She rubbed him gently on the knee and then snatched her hand back before he could swipe it up into his. If he had succeeded in taking her hand right that second, she would have jumped his bones. “As long as it isn’t too personal.”

  Geren placed his hands firmly on his lap, straightened his back, and sighed. “Okay then, let’s start with your occupation.”

  “I’m a social worker and counselor at a crisis center for unwed teenage mothers.”

  “That’s great!” Geren shouted so loudly that Tempest was taken aback. “I’m truly impressed. I thought you were probably into something else.”

  “Something else like what?” Tempest blared, bordering on being offended by his comment. She opted to hold off judgment until she heard his reply.

  “I don’t know,” Geren stated hesitantly, wondering if he was about to put his foot in his mouth. “Maybe a beautician or a retail manager or something like that.”

  “How in the world did you narrow it down to those two?”

  “I didn’t,” Geren said in defense of himself. “Those are just a couple of examples. It’s just that you’re so fly, with the pretty hair and fresh clothes.”

  “Chile, please!” Tempest got up off the sofa. “Speaking of clothes, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I’ve got to get out of this ugnoramous dress before the dye in the material rubs off on my skin.”

  “Okay, I’ll be here.”

  Tempest paused in the doorway of her bedroom. “Let me ask you a question. What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m an investment banker.”

  “Oh, I see,” Tempest said snidely. “I figured you were probably a maître d’ or electronics salesman.”

  Geren laughed as she disappeared in the bedroom. “Touché!”

  • • •

  Janessa pulled the fluffy pillow up tighter around her ears. Between Dvontè’s snoring and the ticking of the alarm clock on his nightstand, she couldn’t fall asleep if her life depended on it. There was more to it than that, though. She was straight-up ashamed. Agreeing in advance to give Dvontè some pussy if he went with her to the wedding was a huge mistake.

  She looked over at him, sprawled beside her on the brass king-size bed, and wondered how many other sistahs had occupied the side she was on over the years. It mattered, and it didn’t matter. She realized that at her age, any man she might possibly hook up with would have had numerous, maybe even dozens of, women in his past. That’s what makes a man a seasoned lover, and she needed that in her life. Hell, she needed a lover, period.

  Yet and still, she’d been disappointed when Dvontè put in a less-than-stellar performance once Geren and Tempest dropped them off at his place. She was expecting the earth-shattering, toe-curling sexual experience he’d promised her repetitively during their phone conversations of the previous week.

  Dvontè did eat her pussy, but only briefly. His oral fixation was hardly a match for her own. She’d sucked his dick but good, and received a weak tongue-lashing in return. His dick was a nice size, but he came too fast. She wouldn’t venture to call him a two-minute brotha, but he definitely wasn’t a ten-minute one.

  Dvontè turned over on his side, facing Janessa, and his pussy breath almost made her turn away. She couldn’t get used to smelling her essence emanating from a brotha’s mouth or tasting it on his tongue. Nothing turned her off more than a man that would go down on her and expect her to tongue the shit out of him immediately afterward. That just wasn’t her thing, and at least Dvontè didn’t even go there. Not that he even had time to. He came and then passed out less than three minutes later.

  It became painfully obvious that sleep wasn’t going to come anytime soon, so Janessa got up and went out into Dvontè’s kitchen to look for something to drink. She got a wine cooler out of the fridge and then sat down on his couch in the living room and flicked on his television. Chris Rock’s Bigger and Blacker special was on HBO.

  Even though Chris was a hilarious mofo, Janessa’s thoughts drifted to Howard. Damn shame all that good loving was locked up in the penitentiary. No other man had hit it like him. She derived so much pleasure from his sex.

  The comedy special went off, and Janessa debated whether or not to go back in the bedroom. So what if Dvontè wasn’t the bomb after all? He was a man, and she needed some regular sex. She got up to go back into the bedroom, determined to get Dvontè to rise to the occasion. After all, most men last longer after they bust the first nut.

  As she pulled the covers off him so she could grasp his limp dick in her right hand, she wondered if Tempest and Geren were getting their freak on. Tempest liked to play that role, but when it came right down to it, she needed some sexual release from time to time just like everybody else.

  Janessa took one last swig of her wine cooler, sat it on the nightstand beside the annoying clock, and leaned over so she could suck Dvontè’s dick into her mouth.

  • • •

  Tempest stood out on her balcony, watching the sun rise over the horizon and enjoying the morning breeze as it tingled against her skin. She glanced inside to see if Geren was still sleeping soundly on her sofa. Yes, he was still there, covered with her Dallas Cowboys throw. A fully clothed gentleman who managed to get through the entire night without trying to get in her panties. It wasn’t a dream.

  They’d stayed up talking all night, about everything—their childhood, their families, their past relationships. Tempest couldn’t believe all the skeletons she’d revealed to him. She told him about all the maggots of her past, and he listened. He actually listened. He didn’t call it male bashing, like a typical man would. After all, how can it be male bashing when she was simply stating facts about her own experiences? Indisputable facts.

  From the sound of it, Geren had run across a lot of triflin’ sistahs himself. He hadn’t had an easy way in the romance department. Maybe they could find what they needed in each other. Just maybe.

  One thing was for sure. Tempest definitely wanted to see Geren again. She planned to tell him that the moment he woke up. She inhaled deeply, taking in some of the fresh air, and then went inside to get some clean towels and a new toothbrush out of her linen closet for him. It had been a long
time since she had to do that, and just the thought of the simple task made her grin.

  As she tiptoed past him, she wondered what she had in her kitchen so she could throw together a halfway decent breakfast. She froze when she heard him whisper her name. She turned, expecting to find him awake and looking at her, but he was still fast asleep. Damn, he’d said her name in his sleep. Could he really be the one?

  CHAPTER 8

  the morning after

  “how’s it going, Fred?” Tempest inquired, though she couldn’t have cared less.

  “Tempest!” Fred exclaimed, licking his lips. “Long time, no see, gurl!”

  Tempest sucked in a deep breath and rolled her eyes waiting for Fred to get finished with his regular routine. Every time she came over there, he would eye her from head to toe.

  Tempest lost her patience after a few seconds. “Fred, are you going to move out of my way and let me in sometime today, or what?”

  “Dang, my bad!” Fred said, moving to the side of the doorway so she could come in. “Where are my manners?”

  “Good question,” Tempest replied. “Is Janessa here?”

  “Yeah, she’s upstairs sleeping.” He followed Tempest into the living room. “She must have pulled an all nighter with one of her mack daddies. She came falling up in here after seven, and Momma almost went upside her head.”

  Tempest shook her head in disbelief. Janessa was a grown woman, and Mrs. Carter still treated her like a teenage virgin. “Is that right?”

  “Yup! It was mad funny, too. I love to see Janessa and Momma go at it. They’re like two peas in a pod. Both determined as hell to get their way.”

  “Hmph, I heard that!” Tempest looked around the room. It had been a while since she’d been inside. She always picked Janessa up curbside because they were in a hurry to go this place or that place. Janessa hated being in the house, so she would always be waiting anxiously on the front porch for Tempest to come get her. Tempest could smell bacon grease and freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen. “Where are your parents? In the kitchen?”