Oh my God, what am I doing here? Please tell me, God, what the fuck am I doing here?
Fran Michelson Dreshner was never one to utter a curse word, being raised in a tough Catholic home and having attended a Catholic boarding school had instituted that into her heart and soul. Although that's not to say there weren't times when she'd desired to relinquish herself of her moral 'sainthood', as she preferred calling it and simply give vent to whatever bit of travesty she was passing through. Such was one she was having right now.
Two days had passed since her last conversation with Hailey in which she'd inquired about her black lover, the one residing in their home, the same one whose office building she was standing less than ten feet from at the junction of Landover Avenue and Garden Street. She had arrived at Landover two hours ago for a physical check up appointment she'd booked the previously week. There she was, a little before noon, making the short walk towards the underground parking space where she'd left her car when she was about crossing the street and something had made her look up and her eyes then had highlighted the street's name. Still that hadn't caught her attention ... not until a couple of walks further up the road when she's spotted the building complex with the signboard 'Phones-R-Us' highlighting the entrance. So hard to believe and totally unimaginable, and yet there it was. A feeling of trepidation suddenly ran through her and she kept glancing around the street wondering if by chance anyone was paying attention to her movement. Her feet carried her towards the glass door entrance. There were windows around, giving her a good view of the interior, though from where she stood she couldn't make out much. Her palms were sweaty and she rubbed them down the side of her jeans.
She swallowed her pride and reached for the door's handle and went inside.
She entered a big showroom with various types of mobile and home phones hanging off the walls on display. There were other people there so she didn't feel that nervous about being in the shop alone, and seated at the counter was a woman wearing a black t-shirt with the company logo displayed on it. Fran pretended to peruse the numerous phones and accessories, before going the counter. The woman seated there immediately became alive as she approached.
"Hi, may I help you?" the lady behind the counter smiled at her.
Fran hesitated, thinking what words to say before speaking: "Yes, hi, there, I seem to be having a little problem with my cell phone, and was wondering if by chance you've got a technician around who would probably take a look at it?"
"Why sure, we've got someone. Just follow the corridor over there," the lady pointed at an open doorway by her left. "Take the stairs to the first floor, and you'll meet someone there who'll attend to you right away."
"Would I need to make a sort of deposit or anything—"
"No, ma'am. Only if your phone's being looked into, and never before."
"All right, thanks very much."
"You're more than welcome."
Fran left the counter and went in the direction the lady had pointed out for her, went up the stairs to the next floor and into a room that almost resembled the one downstairs, except this one had a lot of phone gadgets and posters on the wall. There wasn't anyone in the room and she was becoming agitated once again, cursing herself for ever bringing herself in here on a fool's notice, when an inner door opened and a black man wearing the same company t-shirt stepped into the room. It was the same black man whom she had met at her neighbour's kitchen.
Tibbs.
Her lips seemed to fall open and for a second she didn't know if she'd just uttered his name out loud or not. Her breathing seemed to take a different turn and as he approached his side of the counter, his eyes locking with hers, her heart gave a flutter that was part shock and fear.
"Good afternoon," he said to her with no hint of recognition in his eyes. "You've got a problem with your phone, ma'am?" he leaned on the counter as he spoke to her, his voice sincere and solicitous.
"Oh yes... yes... I do have a problem with my phone." She rummaged into her handbag for her phone, glad to break the connection their eyes had. She took it out and extended her hand with it towards him, afraid of getting any closer to his masculinity. "The damn thing sometimes tends to go off all of a sudden. He happens like that when I'm least aware of it."
Tibbs took her phone and gave it a perfunctory look-through. "How often in a day does such happen?"
"Sometimes once, twice, and sometimes it doesn't happen at all. But other days it just seems to get worse."
"Has such happened since this morning?"
She nodded. "Yes, it has. Just once."
"How long have you been experiencing such type of problem?" he looked up at her. His eyes seemed to bore right into her, and for a moment she was afraid he'd already seen through the baggage of lies she was presenting him with. Her heart was skipping drum-beats inside her chest.
"Not since last month. I'm wondering if maybe I ought to get myself a new phone or not, but I'd like to know... if maybe it's got a problem with the mechanics."
"May not be with the mechanics, ma'am. Some things are just brain dead or inconsiderate. They usually malfunction at a time when you most need them. My advice to you would be to get yourself a new phone. You need yourself something that's firm, solid, and works whenever and however you want it anytime of the day. Something that's not going to disappoint at any hour."
Fran didn't realise how close she was to him from the counter. His eyes seemed to hold her mesmerised all the while he spoke to her, boring through her. His words, the sound of his voice, spoke to her very marrow. It was like he could read every bit of her mind. She shook her head from side to side and stepped back from the counter, inhaling a deep breath, breaking the spell. But there already was some apparent wetness between her legs. She could feel it squishing inside her panties. She'd never been this turned on in a long time.
"Yes, well... I think... I think that might be the problem with the phone," she searched for what to say. "Anyway, I was wondering what you might suggest."
