Finally back with another Sample Sunday from my next release, Love at First Spite, coming soon! In fact, a release date will be announced this coming week. So be sure to stay tuned! 🙂
But for now, let’s meet Maxwell.
(Note: Sample copyrighted, unedited, and subject to change)
She was bored out of her gotdamn mind, and that annoyed the hell out of me.
The place was packed, everyone seemed to be having a good time, and we were bringing in a shitload of money. But Little Miss. Bougie at the bar was less than impressed.
I shouldn’t have even cared. She was one customer. Not everyone was gonna appreciate the experience The Max had to offer. Some people just had other shit on their mind when they went out and reacted as a result of those emotions.
These were all things I knew and knew well. Yet something about her attitude made her displeasure feel personal, like she wasn’t just disappointed in the service or the environment. More like she was disappointed in me.
So I tracked her down with every intention of simply clearing my conscious by talking to her. What I wasn’t expecting was to track her down and get completely blindsided by a sexy set of dangerous curves. The kind of curves that would kill you instantly if you even thought about approaching them with too much speed.
Still, I was tempted enough to put both hands on the steering wheel and try out the course. Well that was the plan until I saw her standing there helplessly trying to hail a cab. It was her terrible technique, something I knew wouldn’t go over well with the aggressive drivers that usually frequented our area. So I stepped in, helped her out, and was now being rewarded with her company.
I mean, her constructive criticism.
She kept her eyes focused out of the window as if I wasn’t even there. Or maybe it was just a tactic to deal with the nerves that accompanied being in the back of a cab with a stranger.
I got it, especially considering I was a guy and she was a woman. But I knew my original intentions and was willing to go into overdrive to make that clear. So I straightened up in my seat and started our little impromptu post-interview. Well… I thought I was until I realized I didn’t know how to really address her. I didn’t see a ring on her finger, but calling her beautiful again just felt a little too impersonal.
And even though I knew she hadn’t told me, I still posed the question as, “Hey, what’d you say your name was again?”
She turned back my way, but looked past me out of my window instead of actually looking at me.
Another tactic, I suppose.
“I… didn’t say. Is this going on the record?”
My immediate reaction was to laugh until I realized how serious she was.
“What? No. I mean, I told you mine and thought maybe I should know yours too. Common courtesy or somethin’.”
She nodded, intertwining her fingers on her lap as she replied, “Oh. Right. I’m Nori. Do you need my last name too?”
I laughed again. “No, beautiful. I told you it’s not going on any record. I just wanted to know so I can stop calling you beautiful. Not that you aren’t beautiful. Just didn’t want you to think I was creepin’ on you. Not that I wouldn’t ever creep on you, cause you’re fine as shit, Nori. But… you get my point, right?” I damn near sounded like her rambling at the mouth.
Still she managed to outdo me when she replied, “Fine as shit? That’s kind of an oxymoron. I mean, I’ve had some shit look better than others. You know, cute put-together shits that look like candy bars versus diarrhea. But overall? It’s all usually pretty shitty.”
“You don’t have much of a filter, do you Nori?”
She shrugged. “Well… I do. Usually by accident. So I guess not. Eh, maybe. You know what? I’m just gonna go with no. A good solid no. I don’t have a filter. No Brita for me. Or weird Instagram shades. Or coffee… beans.”
This woman was quirky as hell. Intriguingly quirky. Sexy and quirky.
What a fuckin’ combination.
I stroked my chin, ogling her as she stared off into space, probably thinking about shit. She was… cute, if that was a thing you could call a grown ass woman. Her smooth, creamy skin reminded me of peanut butter. And I wanted a… PB&J?
Fuck, is she rubbing off on me already?
Instead of answering my own question, I asked her another though I was already doubting that it would actually stay on topic.
“So, Nori. What’d you think of the lounge? I mean, was it really as bad as you made it seem?”
The question visibly made her tense up as if…, “Remember. Not on the record. Just me and you having a chat, beautiful.”
She nodded, licking her lips as if she was preparing them to rip into me. But she didn’t, instead replying with a simple, “It was okay.”
“For some reason, that doesn’t feel like an authentic Nori-answer. So be honest with me. Please.”
“Alright, alright. It sucks, Maxwell. It was crowded, and the bar didn’t even have wine. What kind of bar doesn’t have wine? I mean, the least you could do is keep a bottle of fuckin’ Barefoot. I understand if the budget is tight with it being fairly new and all, but those cost how much at Wal-Mart? And the music! Ugh, the website said live band so I expected to see a live band, not a weird-looking dude with a computer and headphones. And what kind of music was he playing anyway? Top 40? So… standard. For a regular ass club. Not a lounge owned by a black man. And let me just say…”
I held up my hands to stop her, not even bothering with how offended I wanted to be. That I could deal with later. For now, I just needed her to stop and take a breath.
“Okay, okay. I get it, Nori. I hear you. It wasn’t your thing.”
Surprisingly enough she actually snapped out of her rant to reply calmly, “No, it wasn’t my thing. But it also wasn’t the thing you advertised so… is that my problem or yours?”
It was a fair question that I could only answer with an honest, “Ours. As in my partner and I.” For whatever reason, I felt the need to refer to my brother by his formal title instead of what he really was; a pain in my ass.
Still, Nori managed to take things completely left yet again when she asked, “Your partner? Like your partner or your “partner”?”
“Wait a minute. Are you asking me if I’m gay?”
She put on this ridiculously reassuring smile as she put her hand to my knee and reasoned, “Hey, it’s 2016. I get it. I voted for your right to get married. I own rainbow clothes. And I really think the nicest people hang out at the gay bars. But I’m sure you know that if…”
I covered her hand with mine and confidently cut her off. “I’m not gay, Nori. Trust me. Far from it.”
But instead of reacting to my touch like a normal woman would, she covered my hand with her other one. We were making a fuckin’ stack of hands in the backseat of the cab.
What is happening to me?
“Maxwell, it’s really okay. I mean, I should’ve known by how well you’re dressed, and how clean cut you are, and the manicure. Your fingernails are so fuckin’ shiny. And you are really beautiful. Like I know you called me beautiful, but you… you’re so gorgeous. Have you ever thought about modeling? I bet you have a nice body under these dress clothes. Actually, I know you do. I already…”
“Nori, enough! I’m not gay. In fact, I’m attracted to you. Really fuckin’ attracted to you.” If I could only get her to shut up for two seconds. Not that I didn’t wanna hear what she had to say; her little rants were beyond amusing.
But this one, I was done with.
“Completely heterosexual. Completely intrigued by your breasts and ass. Already imagining the shade of your areolas, and what kind of panties you’re wearing.”
She froze for a moment just staring at me, making me wonder had I gone too far. But before I could offer some false retraction, she piped out, “Oh. Well. That’s all you had to say. I mean, whattt… does that have to do with the lounge?”
I smirked as I answered, “Absolutely nothing. Just wanted you to know you’re not the only one who can share honest opinions around here.”
If you missed the introduction of Nori, you can check it out here!