Charlene danced slowly with Tom, leaning her head on his shoulder as they swayed to the slow, mellow jazz. They'd been seeing each other for a week, ever since Tom had come to drop off his three year old son at the daycare before going to work in the auto shop.
He was a widower, ever since his wife had been broadsided by a delivery van on her way home from work one day, a year ago, in Ocala, Florida.
"Tom.... where are we going with this?"
He looked down at her, into her eyes. "Well.... I'm hoping you'll fall for me completely. I know I like everything about you.... and T.J. thinks you're his mommy reborn."
She smiled back. "He's a great little man. I don't think he really understands what happened to your wife."
"No.... you're probably right. He'd just turned two at the... the time of the accident. The hardest day of my life was leaving him with a sitter so he wouldn't have to go to the funeral."
"Are you sure? I mean, about us?"
"Honey, I need to move on, and so does my boy. I want him to grow up with two parents.... and I can't think of a better lady for the job. And I'll never tell Dan this, but the first time I met your sister, I almost asked her if there were any more like her at home."
She slapped him, lightly, with the hand she had on his shoulder. "You're lyin' to me!"
"Nope. I thought Barb was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen... until you got here. I was attracted to you from the minute you got out of the truck, that first day." The look he gave her was so sincere, it would have put a Saint to shame.
She laid her head back on his shoulder, unwilling to let him see her eyes tearing up. She knew she WAS falling for him, and it wasn't just because he was such a good lover. He was quiet and reserved, and thoughtful to a fault; he was a great dad, from what she'd seen so far, and he wasn't a half bad cook.
The first time they'd gone out, he'd brought her back to his place for something he called 'seafood sliders'.... patties of a ground mix of crab and lobster, grilled like hamburgers, topped with a slice of cheese and a small squeeze of tartar sauce in a hamburger bun.
"I see Dan and Barb have already left" he remarked as they swayed to the music.
Charlene nodded. "Marlene told me about it.... Dan had her go into their apartment while they were busy here, set everything up.... she says Dan didn't spare the expense. Barb is in for a special night.... he bought two bottles of Dom Perignon, five ounces of the best caviar, a bunch of other stuff. We've been hiding it at our place until tonight. My sis is one lucky girl... I saw some of the receipts for that stuff. This one night cost him a small fortune."
He walked her back to their table as the music ended. "You're kiddin' me, right?"
She smiled up at him as he pushed her chair in under her.
"No.... those bottles of champagne alone cost over three thousand dollars apiece, and Beluga caviar isn't cheap. He got it all off the internet; a bunch of it was imported."
He sat back, lost in thought for a moment, wondering how he would top that... until he realized he wouldn't have to. Charlene knew Dan was rich, and he wasn't.
The band finished up the number they'd been playing with a flourish, and Tom looked at his watch. After midnight.... time to call it a night. He had a vintage Mustang to color-sand in the morning.
"Well, hun, you want to go to my place for a nightcap? I think it's time to let Cathy go home and get some sleep."
Charlene nodded, knowing what that meant. She was actually a little surprised at herself... Barb was usually the one who went for white men; she'd always been just the opposite--the blacker, the better. Tom was different, though; he wasn't prejudiced, and treated her like a queen. He cooked for her, something none of the black boys had ever done for her, and he gave great footrubs. He called her beautiful, not 'fine as fuck', which her last boyfriend, back in Detroit, had. He'd held her hand during Barb and Dan's wedding ceremony, and whenever they parted, he'd give her firm hugs and light kisses, never trying to feed her the tongue unless she initiated it.
She knew he wanted her tonight, but she knew, too, that if she wasn't in the mood, he'd wait until she was. She was in the mood, though, and feeling Very horny. He was in for a wild night.
It was a good thing he was so well hung.
Marlene, meanwhile, had left with Ronnie and was back at his place; they'd been introduced by Tom, who had informed her that Ron was one of his old SEAL team members. She could well believe it; the man looked about as solid as a brick wall. Six feet tall, a slightly darker shade of brown than she was, and a few years older than her, he'd been a refreshing change from some of the men she'd known, back in the suburb of Detroit that they'd lived in. He didn't subscribe to the 'Gangsta/thug' mentality, and he was articulate to a fault; if she hadn't known his true profession, she'd have sworn he was an English teacher, despite his serious physique.
Ron came back to the couch, set the two drinks down on the coffee table, and settled next to Marlene.
"What kind of drinks are these? she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"One of my own concoctions.... I call it a Royal Screw Up."
He'd timed it perfectly; she was just taking her first sip, and giggled just as she was swallowing it.
"A What?!?"
"A Royal Screw up. Half an ounce of Vodka, two ounces of fresh orange juice, half an ounce of Crown Royal Black, topped off with two ounces of 7-up."
She took another, experimental, sip. "Oh my God.... this is Great!" The juice and soda blended perfectly and masked the alcohol. She took another sip. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, doing his best to convey the image of a black Groucho Marx, nodding. "Is it working?"
"Hell, no.... I'll drink you under the table! Besides," she continued, her voice softening, "You won't have to, you know."
"I should hope not. I don't drink to get drunk, myself."
'Something else that sets you apart from most of the guys I knew, back in Michigan', she thought as she took another small sip of her drink. Most of them used to think a forty of beer and a couple of joints were a requirement before trying to get her into the bed. Most of them never stood a chance, no matter how drunk or stoned she got.
"Where did you disappear to, during your sister's reception?"
"I set their apartment up, something Dan bought over the past few weeks.... he ordered an evening to remember for her off the 'net."
At his arched eyebrow, she continued. "Dom Perignon, Russian Caviar, Swiss Brie, a couple of her favorite concert DVD's. My sister's pretty lucky. He loves her a lot."
He nodded. That much had been obvious from the day he'd met the couple.... and while he usually didn't approve of mixed race couples in general, Dan and Barb were different. Ron had been shocked when he learned that the couple had met on the internet, a mere four months ago, and had met in person less than three months ago. The way they interacted, almost finishing each other's sentences, he had thought they'd known each other all their lives. The sign of a good match.
"I couldn't afford that... I'm afraid you'll have to settle for my twisted brand of cocktails."
She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I love your bartending. What else are you good at?" she replied, with a saucy grin.
He turned and kissed her slowly, lightly, nibbling a bit at her lower lip. "I'll let you judge that for yourself."
They continued kissing, and Marlene took his hand, raising it to her breast. She wasn't as big as her sisters in the chest, but at 36 C, she still had a nice handful.
He took the hint and began to slowly massage her full breast through the thin blouse, realizing she had left the bra behind, and felt her nipple harden through the cloth. She opened her lips, tracing his with the tip of her tongue, and he opened his mouth to recieve it, their tongues tangling in the age old dance as she felt the bulge in his pants grow at her touch. He looked into her eyes and saw that she was ready for him, and wondered, idly, just who was seducing who?
Charlene sat back on Tom's couch, listening intently to the music he'd turned on. It literally defied description... it had started out sounding like a classical piece, but she could swear she heard a couple of guitars in the background, and the vocalist sounded like he had a blues background. "Who is this?"
Tom grinned. "Trans-Siberian Orchestra. They're kind of a.... fusion group, I suppose you'd call them. They take the best parts of all different kinds of music and blend it together. The guy who started it was in a speed metal band, but he wanted to, sorta, extend his range."
"Well, whatever it is, they're definitely making it work."
"Yeah, they do that... they've got one DVD out, I forget the title, it's a Christmas thing, but I can't watch it without breaking out in tears. It's that moving."
