Finding Love for a Cynic (4 page)

“I did give her my size.”

Koen stopped texting and sighed, his eyes rolling skyward as he began to speak.  “Delona, tell Leila what size you told the clerk you wore.”

“Twelve,” Delona said.

An audible gasp escaped the aesthetician.  Koen could imagine her studying Delona’s small frame just as he had when he heard her ask for a size twelve at the boutique the day before.  At that moment, he had realized just how chesty the petite woman was.  Suddenly, his mouth began to water at the thought of her naked breasts lying under the sheet just a few feet away.  He shook his head, forcing himself to refocus on the conversation at hand.

“Now tell her what size we finally purchased,” he stated.  He hoped the two women didn’t pick up on the sudden huskiness in his voice.

“Eight,” Delona responded in a small voice.  Leila laughed.  “Well, I like to be comfortable… need room to move, you know.” 

Squeaking emanated from the table that she lay on, drawing his gaze to the wall between them.  Koen wondered what the heck she was doing back there.  He smiled, shaking his head at the barrier between them before turning his attention back to his phone. 

“Were the clothes you tried on not comfortable?” he inquired with confidence.

“No, they were fine,” she responded dejectedly.  “But still, I listen to you, and I see how you’ve let this place change you.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he couldn’t help but ask.  He turned toward the partition again and stared as though he could see her face through it.  He had to know where she was going with this, seeing how they had only known each other for four days.

“I know you’re not from around here, but you try your darndest to pull off an American accent.”  Koen was flabbergasted as he continued to listen to her.  “I hear that funky accent of yours.  I just can’t seem to pinpoint which continent it’s native to.  Sometimes you sound like you’re Australian.  Other times you sound European.  There’s a third one, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“South African,” he volunteered in his natural accent.  After several moments passed and he received no response, he ventured a peek behind the partition.  Leila stared back at him with lust-filled eyes.  His own eyes grew wide when her long tongue seductively shot out and journeyed around her shapely lips.  Delona, however, mimicked a bug-eyed cartoon character.  Koen couldn’t help but laugh at the image before him.  “Well, is this what you were talking about?” he continued in his native dialect.  It truly was a combination of all three continents.  “If this makes you more comfortable around me, I’ll stick with it.  I must say you have a good ear on you.”

“Yeah.  A good ear,” Leila echoed in a husky voice.

“See?  Now was that so bad, being yourself?” Delona asked, her features slowly returning to normal.

Koen chuckled, turning his attention back to his phone.  “No, I guess not.  Perhaps I’ll use my native tongue from now on. Seems to have a nice effect on the ladies.”

“Whatever,” she said matter-of-factly.  Koen chose to ignore her tone.  “Are we almost done here?” she asked Leila. 

“Uh, no,” Leila answered cautiously.  “We actually just started.  I still need to do your legs and your vaginal area.”

“You’re going to wax my what now?” 

Koen had retreated behind the partition again, but something told him the cartoon character had reemerged.  He couldn’t help but shake his head and chortle.  Laughing was something he had done more of in the four days he’d known her than he had in the last five years of his life.  She was way off in assuming that he wanted to change her.  Genuine, heartwarming people like her were hard to come by.

“So what are we going to do after this pretty lady finishes having her way with me?” Delona asked jokingly.

“We are going to get your mane tamed.  When’s the last time you had it relaxed?”

“Relaxed?  Chemicals in my hair?  Never!”

“I think it would look good on you.  You don’t have to have it relaxed all the way.  They can texturize it.  That way your hair is not exposed to as much of the chemical and you’ll have the option of wearing it straight or curly.”

“Wow.  Never in my life did I think I’d be getting a lecture on hair care from a Euro-Africana-Aussie.  I’m putting my hair in your hands.  Now that you’re not hiding your accent anymore, I guess I can trust you.”

“Glad to hear it.”  He smiled, still texting.

Chapter 5

After Leila finished having her way with her, Koen drove Delona to one of the top ethnic salons in the city.  He watched, thoroughly impressed, as the beautician worked her magic on Delona’s hair, transforming it from a fluffy Afro into a shiny wavy mane that hung just past her shoulders.  The beautician was also very helpful in helping Delona purchase products that would enhance her natural beauty.  By the time she had finished being, as she stated, “thoroughly poked and prodded” it was well past six p.m.

“I guess that wasn’t so bad.  I’d go back there, if you made me.”  Delona paused.  “I have to admit, I’m surprised,” she stated out of the blue as they maneuvered the traffic-laden expressway.

“About what?”  Koen gently inquired.  He was becoming more and more familiar with Delona’s topic-jumping style of conversation, which was more habitual when she became worked up or tired.  At first, he’d had to listen very attentively to keep up with her.  But each day they spent together made it easier for him to decipher which topic they were currently discussing.  However, there were still times, like now, when he needed clarification.  He liked the fact that she took it in stride, never appearing to get frustrated about it or losing patience with him when he did. 

“You drive a BMW and not a Porsche or something ludicrous like that.  And it’s blue, not one of those flashy colors most power-mongers seem to prefer.”

Koen smiled.  “You’ll come to see that I live a very practical life despite my outward appearance.” 

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm, what?”

“I see you didn’t deny being a power-monger.  Are you?”  Koen barked with laughter.   “Even if you are, I’ll take you at your word about not being flashy, if you say you’re not, Mr. PR.  Are we finished for the day?  All this glamorizing has made me hungry.”

“Always so eager to be done with me,” he joked.   “I suppose we could grab dinner and discuss tomorrow’s scheduled events.”  

“Sounds good.  But we don’t need to wait until we have food to discuss tomorrow.  We can do that right now.  We’re stuck in this dang-awful traffic anyway,” she said with a slight frown.

Koen looked at her sideways.  He had witnessed her temper and wasn’t ready to revisit it, especially within the small confines of his car.  “Okay,” he started, hesitantly.  “I’ve made arrangements for you to appear on Sonny’s broadcast first thing tomorrow morning.”

Delona didn’t respond at first.  Just as Koen was about to repeat himself, she started to speak.  “What are we trying to accomplish by doing that?  I’m not so sure Mr. Carter’s ego will allow him to put this whole thing behind him,” she stated despondently.

The sadness in her voice spoke to him.  Koen turned to look at her with the intention of consoling her and letting her know that she had nothing to worry about.  But something happened when his eyes locked on her large brown ones.  Suddenly the words meant to soothe her were stuck in his throat.  He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge them and trump down the unexpected feeling that had come over him.  She had been pretty before the transition, even with her coarse hair and too-big clothing.  But the changes resulting from the grooming today made her outright stunning. 

Unlike most beautiful women he had met, she either didn’t appear to know it or didn’t care.  He took in her features, so much like her brother’s, but her eyes were more rounded and her nose broader and softer.  Myron’s eyes were hazel, leaning more toward a moss green than brown, whereas Delona’s were a deep rich mahogany.  It occurred to him that, no matter what emotion she displayed, her eyes always held a gleam in them, as though a little mischief lay just behind them.  It was now evident to him why Andrew Carter had been so smitten with her.  His hand absently made its way to the back of his neck, and he started rubbing it, his rattled nerves showing.  He forced himself to avert his gaze from hers before he became too lost in those beautiful dark orbs.

“I’m not upset about it,” Delona said, encouragingly. 

She reached over and placed one of her small hands over his.  The heat of her touch caused his manhood to twitch vicariously.  He managed to keep his urges in check by paying extra close attention to what she was saying and not the contact of their skin.   “I just need to be prepared.  It will help keep me from messing up again,” she stated remorsefully.

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” he offered, still unable to look at her.  “Andrew over-reacted, but he has agreed to clear the air with you.  His only stipulation was that you come on Sonny’s show.  I honestly think he’s a nice guy.  He just didn’t know how to take you, that’s all.”

“If he’s such a nice guy, he would have invited me somewhere private to ‘clear the air,’ not do it under the scrutiny of the entire city.”

“Perhaps.  However, this gives you a chance to let L.A. know that you’re not the conceited, antisocial woman some think you are.”

“I guess you’re right.  I’ll do it, but I just want one thing in return.” 

“What’s that?” he asked.  Chancing a quick look in her direction, he caught the beginning of a devious smile that made her look all the more exquisite.  Traffic had started moving again, granting him a safe place to cast his gaze.

“Say g-day mate.”  She threw her head back in laughter.

“G-day mate,” he complied, making Delona laugh harder.  Koen just smiled and shook his head in amusement.

“That is sooo cool!” she gushed.  Now it was Koen’s turn to laugh.  “So, what country is the European accent from, and why do you sound like you’re from three different continents?”

“Do you always ask such personal questions?  And so many of them… my word,” he joked.

“Only when I’m hungry,” she stated wearily, allowing her head to fall back on the head rest.  She took in a deep, audible breath.

Koen secretly wished she hadn’t done that.  His eyes seemed to take on a life of their own as they slowly turned from the road to follow the rise and fall of her heavy breasts.  “I’d say you must always be hungry then,” he managed to get out while forcing his eyes back on the road.  At that point he knew he was in trouble.  He had acknowledged from the get-go that she was fascinating and somehow had known they would become close friends.  But this sudden attraction to her could prove to be problematic.  In no way, shape, or form would it benefit either of them if he allowed these new feelings to get the best of him.  He had to resist her.

“And I’d say you’re a quick study, Mr. Smith.  Now, answer the question,” she said, stealing him back from his wandering thoughts.

“Bossy, too, I see.”  He grinned, forgetting already that he was supposed to be resisting her charms.  “It’s Norwegian.  My mother is from there.  She met my father, who is from South Africa, at university in Australia.  Hence the triplicated dialect.”

“That’s wicked cool!  Did it ever get confusing? I mean was there a time you started to favor one over the other?” she probed further, her eyebrows drawn together in curiosity.

“Not really.  I just managed to concoct my own way of speaking…kind of like you did.”

“Ahhh,  so you are attentive.”

“Yup.  I’m guessing U.S. South meets urban North.”

“And you’d be correct.  Mama’s from Mississippi.  She met Daddy in Philly while he was looking into expanding his magazine.  I’m sure the Mainer in me was a given,” she explained excitedly, while Koen tried to ignore the euphoria that her enthusiasm was giving him. 

The rest of their evening together was spent eating pasta and discussing how to handle the next day’s itinerary.  They laughed and joked in between, sometimes making him forget that this was a business dinner and not a date.  He had mixed feelings when he dropped her off at her apartment building, part of him wanting to prolong their time together and the other part knowing that was wrong.  In the end, he steeled himself.  Once again, he made a vow to get these wayward emotions under control.

***

     Koen woke up in a cold sweat.  His manhood stood erect, and his buttocks were still contracted from the last forceful thrust of his too-real erotic dream.  His heart raced crazily in his chest as he attempted to harness his erratic breathing.  The grainy feeling in his throat told him that he had been calling out Heather’s name while performing his sensual dance.  His therapist had warned him that the change in environment from Australia to the States could cause a temporary setback but had encouraged him that the end result might be worth it.

 Caught between the worlds of sleep and reality, he threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed.  He rubbed his sweat-drenched face, attempting to get his adrenaline-overloaded system back under control.  The sticky substance coating the inside of his black silk boxers offered the final telltale evidence of his fading desire. 

His attire did little to prevent the cool air of the air-conditioned room from prickling his exposed skin, intensifying the eerie feeling of another presence.  She always seemed so real.  Even as he sat there with his eyes wide open, the remnants of the dream impinged on his reality, often making him doubt his own sanity. Her perfume continued to filter into his nostrils.  His penis jumped when he felt her sweat drip onto his flesh.  Taut nipples melded into the heightened senses of his back, stimulating him all over again.  Reaching behind him, his hand made contact with the velvety soft alabaster skin of her thigh.  He stroked it, relishing the feel of her hands as they began a slow sensual journey down his chest and abdomen.  Soft lips skidded sensually across his shoulders, leaving goose bumps in their path.  He felt her delicate chin as it came to rest just above his clavicle, causing her silky blond hair to cascade over his shoulder and onto his arm.