She sat very close to me, deep in the shadows of the room and I didn’t hesitate. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. I was shooting for romantic, but the moment my mouth met hers it was like we’d ignited a match. Fire burned inside me, it spread through my veins and I could not contain it. Neither could I break free. Aziz had her fingers in my hair as her tongue explored my mouth more deeply than any woman had ever dared. What she did with her mouth to mine, I wanted to do with my body to hers.
I was under a spell, reduced to nothing but my most basic animal instinct. My hand slid further and further up her thigh. Heat radiated from the part of her that I would have sold my soul to possess. But just as my fingers found there way to paradise, she pulled away.
“Not yet, William,” she whispered as she kissed my earlobe and ran her hand over the hardness throbbing in my pants.
An unseen waiter brought glasses of wine, and some food that was very different from the high end cuisine I’d been living on. Aziz lifted her glass and drank, her look said that I should do the same. The wine was pink, crisp and fruity with a taste I could not quite put my finger on and though I wine was not typically my drink of choice, I downed the glass in one shot.
Some part of my brain was screaming that this was a bad idea, that being with her was bad. It was going to cost me something. I ignored the warning.
Of course I ignored the warning.
I wanted her. I wanted her more that I had ever wanted any woman.
I wanted her more than anything I could imagine.
The desire she ignited was the most potent feeling I’d ever had in my life.
So whatever the price was, I was ready to pay it to be with her.
5.
I lost count of the number of glasses of wine I drank.
I lost track of time.
And when she was kissing me, I lost track of myself.
A moment of semi-clarity came upon me as she fed me some sort of sausage with spicy sauce that was hotter than anything I would normally eat, and with came stupid question number three. ‘What’s your real name?’ I asked, a feeble attempt to regain some control.
“Does it matter?”
“No. I just want to know.”
“You can’t always get what you want.”
“But I usually do,” I said seriously.
“A name is just a reminder that life is beyond your control, that someone else always has the power to make choices for you. You changed your name, changed your choices.”
“You stripped my choice away, remember?”
“I did. Tonight is mine. I saw something I wanted and I had to watch it walk away a few times. You noticed me the one time I could not act. So yes, I took your choice away because tonight you are mine.”
“Just tonight? It could be more than that.”
She laughed. “We haven’t even had tonight yet. Don’t rush it, William.”
Again, I should have asked more questions, given the whole situation more thought. But she had just hinted that there was still more to tonight and I could only think about getting what I wanted from this beautiful woman.
The night went on and seemed to stand still at the same time. The strange pink wine kept refilling itself in my glass, and while I did not feel the effects that scotch typically had on me, I definitely felt something. My entire body was pulsing with life. Aziz was kissing me again in that way that was sex. Her kiss was as raw, passionate and needy as if she were naked in my bed and my body was joined to hers, but at the same time frustrating, leaving those parts of me that needed release hard and uncomfortable.
She moved her mouth down to my neck as she squeezed my inner thigh. “Do you want to take me home with you, William?”
“Yes. I want that.”
Without another word, she stood and took my hand. I left a ridiculous amount of cash on the table because honestly I had no idea how much wine we drank. And a sensible man would have realized that he had no idea how much he’d been drinking and not gotten behind the wheel of the car, but I was admittedly not sensible.
I don’t recall the drive, the route we took, or even the walk into my building, but we hit the elevator and I had Aziz backed against the wall. My hands explored the parts of her that were not accessible as we sat in that dark booth and by the time I opened my apartment door my need for release was urgent.
And at the same time, I needed to satisfy her as well, because I wanted her to want to come back here. I wanted her to want this to be more than just a night.
I wanted to take away her choices until I was all that remained.
I was obsessed.
This lust had taken hold of me in just one day to where I not only had to have her, I had to have this connection.
But she walked through my door and while I thought only of her, she made a new series of judgments about me that cut too close to the bone.
“Where do you really live?” she asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“This place is empty, no photos, no personal touches. Where is your heart? Where is your soul? You decorate your life with money. Is this really who you are or are you hiding yourself somewhere else?”
She didn’t wait for an answer and that was a good thing because I didn’t have an answer to give. I was afraid I was just a shallow, empty, shell of a man., and I didn’t want her to know that. She touched my things, her long fingers swept over the counters and couches. Suddenly these items that I bought just because they were expensive had life, they became infused with a memory, a moment.
“Offer me a drink.”
“I have wine.”
“Of course you do.” She picked a bottle that was probably worth a couple hundred dollars and I poured. It was red, and bitter compared to what we had been drinking, but still rich and smooth.
Aziz licked her lips in that way she did that set me aflame. She pushed my jacket off my shoulders and worked at the knot of my tie. I knew it was not going to be long before I got the pleasure of undressing her. A moment later my shirt was off and her mouth was pressed to my bare chest. She was running her fingers through the sparse hair just above my belt and I was a breath away from throwing her down on the unused couch and taking my pleasure.
“Let me freshen up. Wait for me in the bedroom,” she told me as she turned and walked away. But she came out of my bathroom without her dress on, and the things she was still wearing as she slid onto the satin sheets stole the last of my sanity, the last of my humanity and I did upon her every thing that my mind fantasized since the moment I first saw her. I touched and tasted her. I made her shake and scream. I thrust and teased as I enjoyed every curve with my mouth, my hands and my bare skin. The joining of my plain, pale whiteness with her smooth, rich, exotic body, the perfect product of everything this mysterious city was made of, should have been a victory for me. The prize of the ultimate game was in my bed, taking what I gave. But though I was the one giving the pleasure, she was still the one in control.
And she had me.
She said VooDoo was still alive and thriving and it had me completely under her spell. By the time I gave in to my need and released, the exhaustion of the night, the seduction, combined with the massive amounts of wine got the better of me. Her purr of satisfaction was the permission my mind waited for and an instant later I was asleep.
In the morning I was alone.
6.
The bed was empty but I could still smell the sweet scent of her perfume mingled with the heady scent of lust upon my sheets. It made me shudder to think about how badly I wanted her. And it freaked me out how easily she undid me, how she knew things I never admit, even to myself.
I had to get out of the bed, the memory was smothering me.
She didn’t leave a number.
She didn’t leave a trace of her presence, even the wine glasses were put away, which made me wonder for a moment if any of it had been real. I didn’t even know her name. But as
I looked around my place, all the things she said about me hit me full on. There was not a single thing in the apartment that had any emotional attachment, any heart, any soul. I was a void. I cared about material things at the cost of my humanity.
I went back into the bedroom. There was a box in my closet that had a framed photo of me with my family. I pulled it out and looked at it for a long time. My mom looked pretty. My last girlfriend put the photo in the frame and stood it on my dresser, and that sort of bugged me at the time. I never asked her why she did that. Maybe she thought the same thing that Aziz thought. Maybe that was why she left, why they both left. I ran my hand over the smooth satin on the bed and shuddered.
What had she done to me?
I showered and dressed. I opened my cologne but the scent was too heavy with innuendo, and her words came back to me. She called me pampered, soft. I did not want to be soft. I wanted to be a man women wanted, she wanted, even though I had never cared about what anyone else thought of me, only what I thought of myself. And that was why I had top of the line everything and my car was a shiny overpriced representation of my ego.
I was soft.
Damn it, I was only half a step away from being a guy with manicured nails.
I was thinking too much. I needed to get out of the apartment.
I got in my car and drove. I didn’t have a destination set in my mind, mainly because I didn’t know where that place was that she took me, but I wanted to find it because there were people in that place who knew her. I wound up in a neighborhood that I most definitely did not want to be in, the sort of neighborhood that makes one discreetly lock the car doors and avoid making eye contact with anyone, and once again I was frustrated.
And alone, well I did have aggravation and failure for company.
The alone part was really beginning to bother me.
I made my way back to my part of town and some unknown reason I stopped into the grocery store.
Yet another learning experience, another opportunity for life to remind me just how soft I was.
I hadn’t cooked anything more complicated than grilled cheese or spaghetti with sauce from a jar in, well, my whole life. That was entirely what restaurants were for. I had the means, so I did not feel the need to learn how to cook. But it wouldn’t hurt to have something to offer, crackers and cheese to serve with the wine in my fridge, maybe some fresh fruit. Coffee. Yes, coffee. Mornings were better with coffee or orange juice.
Except for mornings like this one, this one would have been better with mind erasing drugs.
Anyway, I was trolling the grocery store aisles in shock and revulsion with a cart that had exactly one package of strawberries, when my phone rang.
Habit made my hand accept the call even before my eyes acknowledged that the caller was a private number.
“How are you feeling today, Babyface?” that honeyed voice purred in my ear.
I began to shake.
Every sense associated with last night immediately went into overdrive. I could almost taste the strange wine, and smell the honeysuckle and orange on skin too smooth to be anything but a fantasy. I was afraid to speak, afraid my voice was going to give me away, afraid of another unmasking by this woman that I wanted more than I could fathom.
“William? Are you there?”
“I’m here. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” I answered coolly.
“Was it just one night you wanted?”
“No,” I whispered. I wanted so much more. So much.
“Then meet me.”
“When? Where?”
“Lafitte’s on Bourbon Street at seven.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously,” she laughed. “Why would you say that?”
“Lafitte’s doesn’t seem like your sort of place,” I teased.
“No, William, it’s just not your sort of place. You saw my sort place last night and you will again tonight. Dress casually. Wait, not golfer boy casual. If you show up in a pastel polo shirt or anything argyle, I am leaving you behind,” she laughed.
“Yes ma’am.”
Aziz was already in the bar when I breezed in. I didn’t recognize her for a moment, her long hair was curly, reminiscent of Donna Summer in the mid-seventies, but those long legs and the hot pants she was wearing gave her away. I stood admiring her curves for a moment as she stood with her back to me leaning on the bar. My mouth went dry just thinking about things I would like to do to her. She laughed at what ever the bartender said as he stood with his cocky smile eyeing her just the way I had done a couple nights ago and I was jealous. There was a whole herd of men trying to get closer to her. My jaw was clenched so tight my teeth were beginning to hurt, but I took a deep breath and walked up behind her. I let my fingers slowly glide up the back of her silk stockinged leg, and across the bottom of her shorts. She exhaled a long slow breath and leaned back into me. Then she turned in my arms, looked at me with those smoky eyes and smiled.
She was so far beyond beautiful I can’t imagine what she saw in me.
Her eyes were made up with her eyeliner exaggerating their exotic shape, her lids colored in rich shades of blue and dotted with tiny jewels. Her blouse was held shut by one artful hook, and what was underneath shimmered.
I was burning.
“You dress down well, William,” she teased. Then she kissed me in a way that most definitely ruined the night for at least half a dozen men. She turned back to the bar and ordered something I did not recognize. A much less cocky bartender filled the two glasses with something blue and set them on the bar. “That was very sexy the way you touched my leg. I liked it.”
“I liked doing it. There are quite a few places I would like touch,” I admitted and sipped the drink. It was strong and sweet. It was blue but tasted like oranges, or maybe it was just my imagination because something about Aziz made me think of oranges. And thinking about it made me want press my mouth to her neck and let myself breathe her in. It must have been clear in my eyes too, or maybe it was the VooDoo magic she had, but she sipped her drink, licked her lips and swept her hair back over her shoulder.
I couldn’t stop myself. A moment later my mouth was making love to her neck. Her hands were in my hair and I could feel her breath.
“My God you’re good at that,” she whispered in my ear as she pushed me back. “Be patient, I’ll make it worth your while later.”
“And what do you have planned for me that is thwarting my mouth from being able to have what it wants?”
She laughed out loud. “Your pretty mouth can have whatever it wants whenever it wants, Babyface. It’s what’s in your pants that will have to wait. We are going dancing,” she finished as she took a long sip of the blue drink and I immediately pressed my mouth to hers before her tongue could lick the taste away.
“Dancing?” I asked as she stood looking at me with desire in those elaborate eyes.
“Yes, dancing. You move that body pretty well in bed. I want see what else you can do with it.”
I shook my head. “I think you’re going to be disappointed but I’ll make it up to you later.”
“I think you are going to be surprised what you can do when you let go of your inhibitions and just move with me.”
I chugged down the last of the blue drink. “Let’s go then.”
She reached into my pocket, grabbed my keys, let her fingers linger just a moment as she teased me, and we left.
“You do know that Babyface is a God awful pet name, right?” I said as she squealed out of the parking lot heading south.”
“I do,” she smiled.
“And yet you continue to call me that?”
“I do,” she nodded.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “By the time you got around to noticing me it was already too late, the name was stuck to you. Now you have to live with it!”
“So it’s all my own fault.”
“Obviously
. You could have been less attractive or more aware of your surroundings and you might have gotten a better nickname, but...”
“Well, as long as you find me attractive, I can probably deal with it.”
“You don’t have a nickname for me?” she asked.
“No, but you smell sweet like oranges and I want to breathe you. I want to taste you. I want you to be with me.”
“I’m with you now.”
“I want more than now.”
She looked at me seriously for a moment. “Don’t fall in love, William.”
“I don’t know anything about love.”
She nodded and the subject closed.
I had been so distracted by the conversation that once again I failed to take note of the route.
7.
The place seemed bigger on the inside even though it was dimly lit.
Bodies contorted and entwined to music that was four decades in the past, but still alive and breathing. Strobe lights flashed highlighting random dancers for just a lightening instant of time. Each vision could have been torture or pleasure or both. Aziz took my hand and took me deep into the crowd on the dance floor. The night was my whole life as my body moved with hers to the music and together we became part of the scene. Each flash of the strobe left a perfect picture of her in my mind. She was the queen of this city, and the ruler of all I was, but I tried not to let that show.
I was obsessed.
I knew that.
Beads of perspiration ran from my sweat dampened hair. Aziz ran her fingers into the sticky mass of it and smiled. She kissed me as we swayed, the dance synchronized to our passion. My hands crept under her shirt and up the smooth skin of her back. Minutes and hours slipped by with very few words as the music narrated the story of the night.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” I said at last.
She ran her finger over my lips and looked at me as though she were making some new judgments about me. But she leaned close and pressed her mouth to my ear. “Take me home with you, William,” she breathed. “Last night you got to do all the things you wanted to do, tonight, I want that pleasure.”