I was nervous. Rushing. I knew the time was
getting short, and I was anxious to get to him.
Ahh, my love.
We went back. Had some history. He was born in 1971, but we didn’t meet for quite some time after that.
I smiled to myself at the memory.
My friend and I were on our way to stand in line at 5am for a sample sale out in the Valley. She asked had we ever met.
I told her no, but the reputation was already out.
He was every definition of wonderful. Tall. Strong. Dark…oh, just my type.
I had a few girlfriends who had already met him, and they all agreed that we were perfect for each other.
I wanted to get to know him, but hadn’t yet had the opportunity.
Oh, but I did know about him.
And even then I wanted him.
The horn from the impatient driver behind me brought me back to today. And how I wasn’t going to see him if I didn’t hurry.
I ran through light after light, looking at the clock.
“8:27” it read.
Oh God. I hate to be late. We weren’t going to be able to sit in the nice chairs and shoot the breeze.
Shit.
I turned in the driveway, and saw car after car parking, everyone also trying to get a seat in the lounge.
I slipped my feet in my heels, grabbed my things, and slid out my car. I half walked-half skipped across the lot, the bounce in my step giving away my excitement.
Some of the folks that were walking up, I’d seen before. I nodded subtlety at one man as he held the door for me.
“Hey there, how are you?” He asked, a little more innuendo in that question than I dared to address.
“Fine.” I answered dryly.
I was only here for one thing, and that was my love.
I didn’t want him to see me giving my attention to anyone else. I already knew from experience that he was quite the jealous type.
Once, I was standing in the line to pay the girl and was just casually talking to a guy standing behind me. I know I wasn’t flirting, just being my normal self, but my love must’ve thought otherwise.
He was hot. Frothing. Steamed.
Next thing I knew, he went off with some other chick. She walked out the door with him and he didn’t so much as speak to me.
But I could tell he was mad. I even thought I saw smoke coming off the top of him.
I was determined not to have another one of THOSE situations, so I kept my eye firmly on the prize.
I was getting closer to him. I could see him over the little glass partition. He had on white with a brown jacket. A cute white cap. Everything fit perfectly.
He is so damn fine.
He was the color of a Hershey bar. Chocolate.
He smells good all the time. He even takes away the scent of others, his strong aura has a way of usurping all else he comes in contact with.
Plenty of times I had marveled at how beautiful he was, almost the color of night.
I love him. I truly do.
I actually think we were made for each other. Some days I look at him and see my reflection, and I can tell he feels the exact same way. Our connection is so strong that his eyes ARE my eyes. And what beautiful orbs he has.
There are even times when we are all alone, and there is nothing but the music playing in the background, I bring him close and we become one.
I can feel him moving through me.
He satisfies my every inch.
He calms me.
He elevates me.
He warms every bit of my soul.
Oooohhhhh….
Ok, where was I?
Oh yes.
So, without telling y'all just ALL my business, I’m anticipating feeling him in my hands again.
I smile when I think I catch his eye, yet he doesn’t turn around and directly say anything to me. Instead he stands just on the other side of the glass.
He’s over there with some other woman, thinking he’s making me jealous, but I ain’t never been that one.
Besides, I love when another lady appreciates what is mine. All that tells me is I have something worth having.
Plus, I'll have him soon enough.
I’m all the way at the glass. It’s a rush of activity around me, everybody trying to hookup with their loved ones too I assume.
The girl taking the money smiles at me. I smile back. I’m sure she’s seen me before.
“Hey! Roxanne, right?” She says over the combined music playing, people talking, and whirring sounds. She had a slight smirk on her face. She knows what he does to me too.
“Hey.”
I shift my purse onto my other hand, still wondering why I just have to have him.
She looks at me expectantly, and I slowly and deliberately say:
“One Tall Starbucks House Coffee w/ two pumps of Vanilla, extra hot please.”
Lol.
Ahh, my love.
We went back. Had some history. He was born in 1971, but we didn’t meet for quite some time after that.
I smiled to myself at the memory.
My friend and I were on our way to stand in line at 5am for a sample sale out in the Valley. She asked had we ever met.
I told her no, but the reputation was already out.
He was every definition of wonderful. Tall. Strong. Dark…oh, just my type.
I had a few girlfriends who had already met him, and they all agreed that we were perfect for each other.
I wanted to get to know him, but hadn’t yet had the opportunity.
Oh, but I did know about him.
And even then I wanted him.
The horn from the impatient driver behind me brought me back to today. And how I wasn’t going to see him if I didn’t hurry.
I ran through light after light, looking at the clock.
“8:27” it read.
Oh God. I hate to be late. We weren’t going to be able to sit in the nice chairs and shoot the breeze.
Shit.
I turned in the driveway, and saw car after car parking, everyone also trying to get a seat in the lounge.
I slipped my feet in my heels, grabbed my things, and slid out my car. I half walked-half skipped across the lot, the bounce in my step giving away my excitement.
Some of the folks that were walking up, I’d seen before. I nodded subtlety at one man as he held the door for me.
“Hey there, how are you?” He asked, a little more innuendo in that question than I dared to address.
“Fine.” I answered dryly.
I was only here for one thing, and that was my love.
I didn’t want him to see me giving my attention to anyone else. I already knew from experience that he was quite the jealous type.
Once, I was standing in the line to pay the girl and was just casually talking to a guy standing behind me. I know I wasn’t flirting, just being my normal self, but my love must’ve thought otherwise.
He was hot. Frothing. Steamed.
Next thing I knew, he went off with some other chick. She walked out the door with him and he didn’t so much as speak to me.
But I could tell he was mad. I even thought I saw smoke coming off the top of him.
I was determined not to have another one of THOSE situations, so I kept my eye firmly on the prize.
I was getting closer to him. I could see him over the little glass partition. He had on white with a brown jacket. A cute white cap. Everything fit perfectly.
He is so damn fine.
He was the color of a Hershey bar. Chocolate.
He smells good all the time. He even takes away the scent of others, his strong aura has a way of usurping all else he comes in contact with.
Plenty of times I had marveled at how beautiful he was, almost the color of night.
I love him. I truly do.
I actually think we were made for each other. Some days I look at him and see my reflection, and I can tell he feels the exact same way. Our connection is so strong that his eyes ARE my eyes. And what beautiful orbs he has.
There are even times when we are all alone, and there is nothing but the music playing in the background, I bring him close and we become one.
I can feel him moving through me.
He satisfies my every inch.
He calms me.
He elevates me.
He warms every bit of my soul.
Oooohhhhh….
Ok, where was I?
Oh yes.
So, without telling y'all just ALL my business, I’m anticipating feeling him in my hands again.
I smile when I think I catch his eye, yet he doesn’t turn around and directly say anything to me. Instead he stands just on the other side of the glass.
He’s over there with some other woman, thinking he’s making me jealous, but I ain’t never been that one.
Besides, I love when another lady appreciates what is mine. All that tells me is I have something worth having.
Plus, I'll have him soon enough.
I’m all the way at the glass. It’s a rush of activity around me, everybody trying to hookup with their loved ones too I assume.
The girl taking the money smiles at me. I smile back. I’m sure she’s seen me before.
“Hey! Roxanne, right?” She says over the combined music playing, people talking, and whirring sounds. She had a slight smirk on her face. She knows what he does to me too.
“Hey.”
I shift my purse onto my other hand, still wondering why I just have to have him.
She looks at me expectantly, and I slowly and deliberately say:
“One Tall Starbucks House Coffee w/ two pumps of Vanilla, extra hot please.”
Lol.
I loved this Rox! You have a wonderful writing style :-)
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