"I’m leaving the mall. I had to buy some clothes and stuff."
"You’re not bringing a bunch of luggage are you?"
"Clarke, I didn’t have extra panties. Everything I have can fit in the trunk of my car."
"Okay, cool. So here’s the deal. We can go grab a bite to eat, then we can get you moved in and squared away. You feeling all right?" he asked.
It was times like this Clarke wished he could confide in his buddies, but honestly, he wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea just yet. He had already cleared room for Persha’s outfits in the back of the guest room closet. He was sure they’d be safe behind his winter clothes. Kelsa never even ventured into the room, much less the closet.
When Persha honked her horn, Clarke ran out to meet her in the parking lot and explained to her that they’d get her settled in after dinner. He wanted to treat her to a nice meal before they settle in.
At the Olive Garden he held the door open for Persha and two other women that were entering behind them. He then walked into the cool restaurant.
"You sure you’re okay with eating here? We can go somewhere else if you want?" he said to Persha.
"Nope, this is cool. I like their salad and breadsticks. Besides, a sistah could use a stiff drink."
"Well, a brotha got something stiff for you, but it ain’t got nothing to do with a drink," he whispered as they followed the hostess to a small table off in the corner.
A few minutes later the waiter came to take their order.
"Need more time?" he asked.
"Just a few minutes," Clarke said.
The waiter nodded, "Okay, I’ll be back with water in a few minutes." He turned and left.
Minutes later when the waiter returned, Clarke was first to place his order, "I’d like the Seafood Alfredo," Clarke said, closing his menu and looking at Persha.
"Emmm, I think I’ll take the Chicken Linguine, with an Italian Margarita," Persha added.
"Okay, I’ll be right back with your salad and drinks," the waiter said as he scooped up the menus and left.
As they waited for the drinks they had ordered, Persha gazed out of the window. "Can you believe it?" she asked, pausing.
Clarke didn’t answer right away. The last thing he needed was her ass complaining about staying with him and Kelsa. Here he was trying to make a way for her, the only way he knew how, and she was complaining? Sometimes he didn’t know what to do about women. Just can’t keep ‘em happy, he thought.
By the time Persha turned to him, she looked as if she was expecting an answer.
"Clarke, what’s on your mind? I asked if you knew it wasn’t even spring yet and it’s so damn hot and humid outside. You didn’t say anything."
"Awww, Shorty, I’m sorry. A brotha just thinking about that food and when it’s gonna get here. I’m starving!" He rubbed his stomach for good measure.
"You sure that’s all you’re thinking about?"
"Yeah girl. I haven’t eaten since I had a Krispy Kreme donut this morning. And I only had one, so you know how a brotha is feeling right about now."
"’Nuff said." Persha looked around the buzzing restaurant until she spotted what she was looking for. "Good, here comes our waiter, and he’s got breadsticks and our salad."
"That’ll work!" Clarke said.
After dinner, the two sat at the table long after it had been cleared.
"You feel better now?" Persha asked.
Clarke leaned back and rubbed his stomach. "That hit the spot, seriously." He eased forward. "So what’s up, Shorty. You ready to go or what? A brotha could work off all this food if you know what I’m saying." He winked before displaying a devilish smile.
Her lips pursed and her eyebrows inched up.
"Well, I guess I gotta pay for your hospitality sooner or later, right?" She grinned.
"Now you talking. So I guess you ready to step then, right?"
"Yeah, just let me run to the little girl’s room real quick." She got up from the chair.
"Cool, I’ll meet you at the door. Let me take care of the bill, then it’s straight to the house."
Persha made her way to the bathroom and Clarke took care of the bill. After that, they headed back to Clarke’s house.
Clarke instructed Persha to park her car down the street. He told her to walk ahead of him to the house. A few minutes later, he walked up and let her in.
"We don’t know any of our neighbors or anything like that," Clarke said, as they entered the house," "but a brotha still didn’t want to take any chances. You know how that is."
She shook her head and stepped into the house. It was hard to tell just how large the house was from the outside. But once inside, it was one large flat open room, spanning more than twenty-five hundred square feet. The kitchen was off to the left and a den was off to the right. The cascading staircase was near the back towards the den.
The furniture was contemporary, leather and cherry wood. And lots of plants gave the house an outdoorsy kind of feel.
"You like?" Clarke asked as they stood near the door.
"Wow! This is really nice. Your wife must have a helluva green thumb! Are all these plants real?" Persha asked with excitement.
"Yup! Sure are," he boasted proudly.
"Damn. I can’t get anything to live in my house, well unless you count the damn mold!" She walked over toward the den, where several large plants were mounted near the entrance to the elegant dinning room.
The house was immaculately done in Navy with lots of greenery cascading all over, especially near the big screen TV. Clarke stood and watched as she moved from one area of the house to the next.
"This is so nice," she gasped.
Clarke led her upstairs. A crystal vase with fresh flowers sat on a small table near the staircase. That’s where Persha stopped and turned to face Clarke.
"I can’t believe all the plants and flowers. This house has such a calming atmosphere. Your wife did an awesome job," she said with more excitement pouring through.
"What makes you think my wife did all this?"
Persha went still. She looked around the room again then turned back to Clarke. By the time they made it back downstairs, Persha was completely awestruck.
"What do you mean?" she asked skeptically.
"Why is it that everyone always assumes a nicely decorated house is done by a woman? Can’t a brotha get any props?" he asked with his arms bent at the elbows and hands stretched out.
Her eyes widened, and she looked around the house again, taking in all the plants, flowers, and other things she had dismissed as feminine touches. By the time she swung her head back to Clarke, he was standing with arms crossed at his chest.
"You?" she muttered, bewildered.
He nodded in the affirmative. "You don’t believe me do you?"
Persha shrugged easily. She looked around the room in disbelief again.
"Okay, come here," he insisted. He walked her into the kitchen. "See those flowers on the breakfast island?"
"Dang, they’re breathtaking!" She moved forward toward the vase.
"These are called Four Season Orchids. They’re an upright plant with daisy like flowers, but more fleshy. They can be massive." Clarke touched the flower. "I like them because they bloom any time of the year."
Persha moved in to sniff the flowers.
"No fragrance," he said casually. "They’re just for show."
"Nice," she mumbled, still looking a bit skeptical.
He moved toward the living room. "Now, in here I decided on the African Ivy. This is of Mediterranean origin and the leaves will grow to be about six inches."
Before she could say anything else, he led her back upstairs. He motioned to the first door to the left.
"This is the guest room where you’ll stay. But before you go in, I want you to see something."
Persha followed him down the long hallway, admiring the plants as they walked.
"These are Ferns. They’re actually Hawaii Bird’s Nest Sleenworts to be precise. I moved them out here, but they’re usually in the bathrooms. In there I’ve placed the annuals because this is the time of year they bloom; only from February to about April."
Clarke turned to see a stunned look on Persha’s face.
"What’s the matter?" he asked innocently.
"I’m just, um, I can’t. Ah, I, well, I had no idea," she stammered.
"It’s okay. Most people never know this side of me, but yes, I do most, if not all, of the decorating. I chose leather furniture because that’s masculine, yet nice when paired with the right plants, fabrics and wall colors."
Leaning against the banister, he waited for her to speak.
"So you did all of this yourself?" she asked.
"Sure did."
Persha looked around at all the thriving plants and artful decorating.
He figured she was probably going through what many others had once they found out he had a creative touch. He gave it a few minutes to sink in then took a deep breath.
"Now, if you don’t have anymore questions, a brotha would like a down payment in advance for his hospitality." He displayed a devilish smile.
~ Persha
It wasn’t easy holding Clarke off ‘till she had a chance to shower. But Persha wanted to wash off the grime and prepare herself for what she knew they both needed. This wouldn’t be the normal bathroom she’d use, but he had insisted that she shower in the master bath. This bathroom was huge, done in a butterscotch paint with earth toned colored accessories throughout.
It was right off the left of the master bedroom which had a large bone colored four poster bed as its centerpiece. There was a nice chaise near a corner with a tall antique reading lap near it. The room had matching drapes and bedspread with a throw that sat on the chaise. It was inviting, except for the fact that it was another woman’s bedroom. She felt warm in the surroundings.
She strolled back into the bathroom. The shower was glass-enclosed and separated from the Jacuzzi garden tub. That was surrounded with yellow and brown candles. Persha didn’t miss the pewter colored wine bucket that looked right at home near the tub’s edge. She couldn’t believe Clarke lived in such luxury on a daily basis.
The moment she stepped dripping wet out of the shower that had an upper and lower head, Clarke was standing there waiting with a fluffy bath sheet.
"Your body is so tight. I don’t think I could ever get enough of it," he said with as smil, taking her into his arms.
"I won’t get a chance to dry off will I?" She smiled.
He shook his head. "Come here, Shorty."
"But I’m all wet."
Clarke’s eyebrows elevated, and before she could reach for the towel, he had pressed his lips against hers. He used his hands to palm her behind and pull her close. Just as the kiss started getting heated, he pulled back and looked at her through frenzied eyes. They were both breathing hard and heavy. Before she could make another move, he pushed her shoulders down and she dropped to her knees.
Persha glanced up as she opened her mouth to receive him. When she took him into her mouth, she could feel him begin to swell instantly. After sucking and slurping the way she knew he liked, she felt his body quiver.
"Oh yes! Shorty, just like that," he cried.
Instead of pulling away, he shoved himself deeper into her mouth. To avoid gagging completely, she opened wider. Persha pulled back just as he released. He took her into his arms and sighed.
"Damn, you’re good, baby girl. You’re damn good," he said.
Soon her feet were off the floor and he was moving her. Up against the vanity, her mind was no longer thinking about being wet. Now she was hot, her heart was racing, and she was fighting to keep up with his tongue’s vigor.
He barely pulled away, before he used one far-reaching motion, to shove some things aside on the sink-top. Persha clawed at his back trying to hang on as he swept her up onto the counter top.
She was panting like crazy with one leg against a wall. The other was stretched farther apart. She got a glimpse of their bodies in one of the large side mirrors and was instantly turned on.
"Oh, Shorty," he breathed.
"Yes, Clarke?"
His tongue moved from her mouth to her neck, to her nipples, then to her belly button. Her skin tingled as his tongue left a wet trail across her skin. Persha threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as immense pleasure washed over her.
Her body moved and rocked with his. When possible, she held on, gripping him forcefully. He moved her hand from its tight grip around his neck and slid it down between her own legs.
"It’s so hot and wet, you feel that? Shorty, you feel it?"
"Mmm hmm," she responded incoherently.
Clarke eased up a bit, took her hand and brought it up to his face. He sniffed. "Mmm, I smell you." Then he moved her fingers to his lips. He suckled two of her fingers, savoring her body’s juices.
"You’re so tasty. You’re in heat, Shorty," he moaned. Once her hand left his lips, he jammed the other fingers into her mouth. "Good, huh?"
She shook her head agreeing. Persha had never tasted herself, and was kind of shocked by his gesture. But she didn’t want to ruin his rhythm.
Spreading her legs even farther apart, he gazed into her eyes then thrust himself deeper inside her. Persha could hardly stop squirming a-top the marble-top vanity.
He was sucking and slurping. At moments she struggled to push his head away, because the pleasure was too much to bare. But the more she pushed, the faster his tongue flickered back and forth.
Finally giving in, she felt her heart rate increase quickly as his momentum picked up.
"Oh God, Clarke! Oh, God!" she screamed.
As if encouraged by her moans, he licked and sucked faster and faster. Unable to hang on any longer, Persha released a growling cry.
"God, I love you!"
Clarke continued the assault on her clitoris, spreading her legs wider and wider with his hands.
"Oh, Clarke please!" she squealed.
The doorbell rang, but he didn’t stop. He kept sucking with more vigor and strength. A few minutes later, there was knocking at the door.
He pulled back and looked down at her and then at his stiff erection. "Fuck! Who the hell is that?" he growled angry at the distraction.