Page 14 of The Smoke Hour

I mean, he might appeal to some. There was something about him that some women would love to have in their lives. He reminded me of that comedian Sinbad, who my daddy used to love.

He was tall, six-six to my five-eight, but he was heavyset and oddly pear-shaped. His top half was much bigger than his bottom half, and the kinky, sandy-brown afro that he wore closeto his head wasn’t working for me. Pair that with thick pink lips on light brown skin, and he just looked odd to me.

He dressed well, he smelled very nice, and he wasn’t stingy with his money. I just didn’t find him attractive, and I knew there was no way that I could have sex with him. I just wasn’t turned on, and I knew that my shit would be like the Sahara Desert no matter what he did.

At twenty-nine, I had no business marrying a man who was forty-one. He wanted kids right away, and I wasn’t there yet. Maybe I was shallow, but I couldn’t help how I felt. You couldn’t turn on an attraction when there was none.

“I have a meeting with my parents tonight. I’m supposed to meet with them and their estate lawyer.”

“You can’t reschedule that, Kaifiya?”

“No. I can’t. They’ve rescheduled him several times already. My parents aren’t getting any younger, Terry.”

“Why can’t your brother do it?”

“Because they didn’t ask Austin, Terry. They asked me.”

“This will end when we’re married. I don’t expect anyone to come before me, Kaifiya.”

“I understand, Terry.”

“Do you? Because I don’t believe that you do.”

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands.

Terry sat in the chair beside me and pulled my hands away.

“You can always repay me the money, Kaifiya, if you decide this arrangement isn’t suitable for you.”

“I’ll be fine, Terry,” I lied.

“Okay. I have a business trip in the morning, and I won’t return until Saturday. We’ll have dinner then. No excuses,” he stated and stood from the chair. I watched in disgust as he tugged at his sagging pants in the back. The man had no ass at all.

“I’ll see you Saturday, Kaifiya.”

“Okay, Terry,” I muttered sadly.

When Terry left my condo, I got up from the dining table and headed into my bedroom. I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what I was doing.

Deep in my heart, I knew no good would come of going back to visit Smoke. Yet I couldn’t convince myself not to. And it wasn’t all about the shoes. It was about the man. I wanted to see him. I wanted to explore the magnetic attraction I felt for him. Never had I instantly been attracted to someone in such a powerful way.

Yet every time I thought about playing strip poker with him, I was instantly turned on. I repeatedly thought about how the game would play out, a game that I had no idea how to play and had every intention of losing.

I lookedaround the room at the elegant interior design that screamed understated elegance and luxury. The walls were painted alchemist blue, and the ash hardwood floors covered in cream area rugs lent his office a rustic appeal. Two dove-gray couches sat on a large area rug in front of a cream leather-encased table.

A desk ran half the length of one wall, and in an L-shape, it extended into the interior of the room. The desk and the bookshelf above his desk were made from the same ash wood as the flooring. Dim recessed lighting throughout the room created a calm, relaxed atmosphere, and paintings and charcoal drawings of black men chilling and smoking on a couple of walls added to the ambiance.

“Can you give us a minute?” the owner, Smoke, asked.

I looked up at Smoke. Something inside of me quickened, and I instantly chastised myself for my racing heart, my breathlessness, and the way my thighs clenched underneath my skirt.

Smooth chocolate skin looked as if Almighty God himself had poured it straight into this handcrafted vessel. Full lips that looked as soft as a pillow crooked up into a smirk, and an edgy fire flickered in eyes so dark they appeared to be black.

His carefully groomed mustache and beard connected on the sides of his mouth. He was tall and fit, something that I could tell even through the bespoke gray suit that he wore. An earring twinkled in his left ear, and he wore a collection of rings on each of his fingers. On both pinkies, he sported square onyx rings with diamonds surrounding the center stone of one and the letter S engraved out of diamonds inside the onyx of the other ring.

I immediately thought of Eddie Murphy inComing To America. I wanted to scream Sexual Chocolate so badly, but I regained my composure and turned my gaze away from him before I made a bigger fool of myself than I already had on prior occasions.

A man taller than Smoke stood from a chair opposite the desk. He looked so much like Smoke that they could almost have passed for twins, but I could tell the other man was older by a few years. The only true difference between the two was Smoke had a hard edge to him, and the other man was more refined and put together. Smoke looked dangerous and like he had warning signs all over him saying “run.”

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