Dindi Pt 03

TRAVIS

I overslept.

There was a thumping in my head.

Fuck.

And today of all days.

I had only myself to blame. As usual.

I woke up and forced my tired legs out of bed. The stiffness had worked its way inside every muscle in my body, and I tried to stretch it away, unsuccessfully. Glancing sideways at the clock on my bedside table I saw it was past noon already.

Shit

. The plan was to ask Morena for lunch, but now I was too late. I ran a hand down my face squinting at the sunlight piercing through the window. Maybe I could ask her for coffee.

Gropping the bed, I found my phone hidden under my sheets. Ten missed calls. All of them from my mother probably calling me to ask when I'd go home. Had I answered any of her calls I would've promised her I'd go home for my birthday. Same promise I made her every year. Same promise I broke every year. Shoving my family issues into the back of my mind I searched my contacts list for

her

.

Dindi.

A smile moved my lips. I put the phone to my ear and waited -impatiently- while it ringed. One, two, three, four, five, six...nine times, until her soft voice said, "Hello?" with a careful tone. She didn't know it was me. She had given me her number, but she didn't have mine.

"Dindi." I breathed relieved she'd taken the call.

There was silence in the other side of the line for a painful moment. "Travis." She finally said.

What now? How do I do this? Why the fuck am I so nervous? Some hours ago she was coming on my fingers, moaning my name and now I had trouble asking her out for coffee. Me. Nervous. When I could make a living out of swaying women into my bed.

"So..." I began, "You promised I would see you today." The bad night of sleep had conferred my voice an unpleasant rasp.

"So I did, didn't I?" I heard her smile.

"I was wondering if you would like to go for a coffee with me?" Another torturing pause followed where I forced myself not to think she was hesitating or having seconds thoughts about seeing me.

"Mmm, I'm actually close to you. Do you know anywhere nice?"

I felt a weight being lifted from my chest. My relaxed exhale was audible. "Yeah, I do. I'll text you the address. Can you be there, hmm, let's say," I checked my watch, but in truth I could be ready to bolt out the door right that second. "In one hour? Does that work for you."

Five minutes would be less bitter to wait, but I had to find a way to look like a person instead of a train wreck.

"Yeah. It's perfect. See you in one hour." She said.

"I can hardly wait, Dindi." And that was the understatement of the year.

She chuckled, the sound reaching me through the line. "Alright. Travis Keegan." And she hang up.

Right. One hour. I raked my hands through my mess of a hair, running it down my beard which was starting to get way too bushy. One hour would have to be enough for me to get clean and sober up. The least I could do was look decent to meet her. At least on the outside.

****

I had texted her the address of one of my favorite cafes in Brooklyn as soon as she hung up the phone. The pungent scent of roasted coffee grains surrounded me while I waited for her, my fingers drumming rhythmically on the wooden surface of the cafe little table. I arrived early, not bearing to pace around my loft anymore. She was late, though.

Weren't British people supposed to be punctual?

Maybe she decided not to come after all.

The thoughts were still hanging around my mind when she walked in through the doors. I immediately pushed up from the table and stood to receive her. Her eyes searched around the place and I saw some heads turning in her direction. Absentmindedly, I wondered if she knew how beautiful she looked. How beautiful she was.

She was wearing a high waisted skirt long enough to cover her knees in a burgundy colour that made her skin stand out. The white top she wore tied behind her neck left a flash of the skin of her stomach exposed. Just a thin, innocent line of skin between the hem of her top and the waist of her skirt. Enough to set my imagination on fire, though. My fingers knew just how soft that skin was.

Morena's eyes found mine and she flashed me a smile that had my mouth morphing into the widest grin in the world, just as it always did around her. She moved toward me, swaying her hips and making her skirt wave around her. I just smiled wider.

"Hi." She said when she reached me.

When I left home I had made up my mind to act normal. However, with her here in front of me I was reduced to a smiling idiot. Why the hell must she be so beautiful? I leaned into her and kissed her forehead, allowing my lips to linger there for a while. She smelled of vanilla, a scent I began to associate with her.

"I'm so glad you came." I said when I finally gathered the strength to pull away.

She cocked her head to the side, smiling shyly. I could tell she was blushing. "I told you I would."

I had chosen the smallest table I could find, but still had moved her stool closer to mine when I arrived.

"Can I get you a coffee?" I offered and I was, not surprisingly, still smiling at her. At some time I was sure my cheeks would freeze and that satisfied grin would become permanent.

"Oh, I think I'd rather have tea. Green tea, please." She brought a hand up to her ear and put some loose curls behind it.

Her hair was arranged in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stubborn coiled tendrils escaped and fell to the sides of her face and nape, leaving the naked skin of her shoulders unprotected from my gaze. When I circled around the table to go order our coffee I saw that all of the glorious, and chocolate creamy skin of her back was unobstructed from view -and touch- with the exception of a thin white line tying her top secure in place.

My fingers moved without the consent of my brain, and when I caught myself, I was feeling the smoothness of her skin under my fingertips. She shivered, and stood still as a rock as I ran the fingers of my right hand from one of her shoulders to the other.

"Travis." She whispered my name and I drew my fingers back, but before I left I placed a kiss on her nape, and again her body shook slightly. It would have been a sin not to kiss her there when her hair was up offering me her skin on a silver platter. She had to know what showing skin like that did to a man.

I ordered her green tea and my coffee and returned to our table. She was looking out the window, at the view of the East River under the Brooklyn Bridge.

"This place is really nice." She remarked.

"I like my view better." I said, my eyes fixed on her face.

She reached for the cup of tea I'd previously pushed in her direction, laughing softly. "Gosh, you're impossible." She muttered, pouting her lips to blow at her steaming tea cup.

I had my back to the window, and the light that came in through it lit her up, making her skin glow like she was made of pure chocolate gold. The little green in her eyes leaked through the light brown. As much as I had studied her face from the picture I had, there were things I hadn't noticed before. Little things like the freckles on top of her cheeks and nose, which were so subtle over her dark skin they were easily missed; or the almost imperceptible dimples in the corners of her mouth that would make you think she was always smiling; or the brown outlining her lips, with a rich pink tinging their center.

"I've told you're beautiful, haven't I?" I was loving the way I was making her blush so violently. Even her round little nose was coloured pink.

She rolled her eyes, all shy smiles. "Let's strike a deal, you and I, Travis Keegan." She said, and I'd never enjoyed the sound of my name so much. "You stop saying that, because I get it. You think I'm marvellous and gloriously beautiful. Thank you very much, by the way." I laughed heartedly, paying as much attention as it was possible to how she moved her hands when she talked so fluently. Her whole body was so expressive, it was hard not to. "You stop it, and we'll talk about anything you want. Anything at all. You can ask me any question you like, so long as you stop with the 'you're beautiful' comments. And go easy on the smiles, too! I think it's quite lovely really, but I'm starting to worry for your facial muscles."

I needed a minute to catch my breath with the laughter she drew out me. The way she said my name -Trah-vis-, made me wonder just how she would sound whispering it breathless under me. This time, though, I wanted to enjoy talking to her as much as I could to learn more about her, and so far I liked what I heard. I would risk saying she wasn't only beautiful, but quite possibly the funniest girl I've ever met. Real, not feigning any emotion, any laughter; not pretending to be someone she wasn't just to please me and get something out of that.

"Anything, Dindi? Really?" I asked her.

She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and my eyes found it hard to look anywhere else. When I looked up into her eyes she held my gaze and we just stared at each other. The round table we sat in was little enough that it was easy for me to lean over and kiss her.

And I did it.

At the same time my body leaned toward hers, hers leaned toward mine. I just touched her lips. Just placed a chaste kiss on her mouth, just to feel its softness. She moaned ever so slightly, and I pulled away just enough to take in her reaction. She drew in a sharp breath and I was ready to sit back on my stool when her hand on my nape brought my mouth back to hers.

I felt her parted lips on mine and I opened my mouth to her. The taste of the coffee I had drunk transferred to her tongue. Like it had been the night before, her kiss was soft, if only more tender. My whole body had only began to register how good it felt to kiss her once more when she broke the contact. She sat upright in her place, and I was left with my body leaned over the table, facing her satisfied expression.

"You like your coffee strong." She pointed out .

I beamed with pleasure at her observation. I fucking beamed. She knew how I liked my coffee from tasting it on my tongue. In that moment a certainty struck me. That was the third time that woman and I talked, and I could already say with absolute conviction I would always compare her to the women that would follow her. Because there would be women. Morena already proved herself too smart to stick around me for too long. She deserved better. But I hoped she'd give me some of herself before she came to her senses. Whatever this insane attraction was I knew she felt it too.

"I'm actually thinking about switching to hot chocolate." I teased.

"Oh, bugger off." She gave me another one of her eye rolls, and again I smiled.

I smiled around her. It was what I did. Anyone who could see me would think I was retarded. It'd been so long since I smiled with such genuine ease, but with her it seemed smiling was the only thing I could do.

She was nervous. I could tell by the way she kept biting at her lip and trapping those loose curls behind her ear. The other two occasions, when I'd had a chance to be with her were too awkward, too intense. This time I wanted to go easy with her, make her feel comfortable and make her talk to me so that later, when I touched her, she'd welcome me.

"So, Dindi, you said I can ask you anything. So here's a question for you."

She raised one eyebrow while sipping her tea.

"How old are you?" I asked. First I would get the basic information, then later the things I really wanted to know. Which pretty much included everything about her.

She laughed. "Mmm, well, I'm 32 actually."

My surprise was obvious on my face.

"Do not make that face, Travis! I'm practically a baby!" She jabbed a finger on my shoulder and just that little contact felt good.

I held up my hands. "I didn't make a face!"

"Yeah, you did!" She accused.

"Well, it's only because you look younger. I would've said you were 27 tops." She really did look younger. If she'd told me she was 25 I would have believed her without a doubt. Her skin was smooth and even, the fullness of her lips revealing she liked to laugh. Those incredible eyes of hers shone with youth.

"However did you come by those eyes, Dindi?" They were extraordinary and unusual for her skin tone.

She eyed me amused and I saw her lips forming the word 'Dindi'. She liked it when I called her that. "They're my father's." I noticed a flash of sadness cross her features. "He was German."

Was. Past tense. I knew a thing or two about losing a father.

"I'm sorry." I said sincerely.

She lowered her eyes to her cup of tea and entertained herself with the spoon. "I was 9. All my memories of him are blurred."

In a rush of sympathy I reached for her hand, resting on top of the table, and entwined her fingers into mine. I let them stay that way. Morena was looking at me with curious confusion and I could see she was about to ask me something.

"And your mother?" I asked her first to divert the conversation from the dead fathers topic. My memories of my father were fresher than I would've liked them to be.

Her entire face beamed when I asked about her mother. She had to be the source of such delightful skin.

"My mother is very much English, but she's black. This is all hers." She said winding a curl around her index finger. "Papa taught German literature in the university and she was his student. He waited until she graduated to ask her out. His name was Mirko and he was 16 years her senior." She stopped, catching herself as if she'd been telling me someone else's secret. It was easy to see she had loved her father very much, but mentioning him also made her sad. I didn't like that.

"Do you look like her?" I shifted the topic back to her mother. The smile on her plump lips made my body automatically lean forward, wanting to kiss her again.

"I'm the spit image of her, actually."

"Then your father was a smart man."

Morena's expression softened. "He was." She said softly. A shade of sadness lingering in her voice.

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the soft skin on the inner part of her wrists. I was beginning to think that maybe she was made of vanilla, so sweet she smelled.

"What are you doing in NY?" I hoped her stay was permanent.

"Teaching." She sounded breathless.

I smiled into her hand and brushed my lips over her skin, closing my eyes. When I opened them, her teeth were trapping her lip.

"Teaching what?" I convinced myself that her inability to elaborate was caused by me, my touch.

"Art history." She said composing herself and pulling her hand back, making me ache from the loss.

She shifted, obviously uncomfortable in her stool, but there was no mistaking her reaction. She too felt the magnetic attraction I did, even if she was fighting it when I gave in to it. It wasn't one sided. It wasn't my wishful thinking. She wanted me, too. I had seen it in her eyes last night.

"Last night, when-" I began.

"How old are you, Travis?" Morena asked suddenly, cutting me off and looking anywhere but at me.

Sensing where I was going with my question, she stopped me. She stopped me when I was about to ask her what would have happened had George not taken her away from me right when her hands were getting rid of my belt. Maybe she needed time. And I was willing to give her anything she wanted, or needed, or asked for in order to get what

I

wanted.

"I'm 35." I answered. "Well, actually I'm still 34. I'll be 35 in two months."

"Really? I would have thought you were older." She was clearly as surprised with my age as I had been with hers.

"Do I look that bad?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" She said wide eyed. "You just seem to be older. There's something about you. You kind of look like someone who's seen a lot. Experienced, I mean" She explained herself with a distant look in her face, as if she were seeing past me,

through

me. She had no idea how right she was.

"Yeah. Well, maybe you'll come to my party." It was half a question, half a statement.

"Will there be chocolate cake? I'll go if you promise me there will be chocolate cake."

I took in her look of light happiness. It was contagious. "There'll be anything you like, Dindi." The sound of her laughter was music to my ears. The joy I felt knowing I was the one making her laugh that way was indescribable.

"Where did you come up with that name? Dindi?" She asked, resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her joined hands. "Sounds like the name of a cow you grandma owned."

There she was again, coaxing a real laugh out of me. "It's the name of a song." I explained.

"Hum?" She arched one brow.

"You've never heard it?"

"Nope."

"Well, it's kind of old. It was playing in the elevator that day I saw you."

That day you took away my sanity.

She furrowed her brows. "I didn't pay attention." She admitted, and the way her eyes met mine confirmed she had felt the same way I did that day.

I reached for my phone to search for the song so she could hear it, but she put her hand over mine.

"Sing it for me." She commanded.

"What?" Did she want me to sing?

Morena looked at me like I was stupid. "Come on. You know it, don't you?"

An awkward chuckle escaped me. "Yeah, I know it. But I'm a shy singer."

"I don't mind." She said with playful innocence. "If you're so shy you can sing it just for me. Here." She pointed to her ear.

Oh, that I could do.

"Alright. You asked for it." I said.

I shifted my stool even closer to hers. Before putting my mouth to her ear though, I put a curled tendril of hair behind her ear, something I've been itching to do myself since the first time I watched her do it. Then I kissed her earlobe, delighting myself with the shiver that took over her body. I mentally searched for a verse in the song that most suited the moment. I took a deep breath and my voice, hoarse and unmusical invaded her ear.

"Oh, Dindi, if I only had words I would say all the beautiful

Things that I see when you're with me, oh my Dindi." I sang to her, picking up the song from the middle.

Morena's shoulders lifted when she shivered, and her breaths became short and ragged. She leaned her head against mine and grabbed my arm, her nails biting the skin under the fabric of my t-shirt. I went on singing when her reaction to my awful voice was one of pleasure when I expect her to laugh.

"Don't you know, Dindi, I'd be running and searching for you like a river that

can't find the sea, that would be me without you, my Dindi."

Mirroring hers, my own breathing was hard. She turned her head to the side and suddenly my lips were no longer brushing her ear, but her parted mouth. I didn't kiss her, though. I was enjoying her need to be kissed too much.

With my thumb under her chin, I asked her "Do you want me to kiss you, Dindi?"

She simply nodded.

"I like to hear you say it. You should know that by now." I whispered, my mouth moving against hers as I spoke.

"Yes." Her voice was husky and heavy with her need. Her need for me. "I want you to kiss me, Travis."

When she said my name, she couldn't have known how lucky she was we were in such a public place. My mouth crushed hers and I groaned with her pleasure, easily heard in her little moans. I weaved my fingers through her hair and silk could not have been smoother. I was in my mid thirties. I thought I knew want. I thought I had experienced it countless times before, but when I felt the scratch of her nails in the skin of my neck I pulled away abruptly, because I was getting way too hard in a place with too many people watching me kiss her as if we were alone.