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Sunday, May 15, 2011

A Recipe for $ucce$$ Chapter 2

Gerald Davis

I peer down at the clock in the dashboard of my sleek black Lexus GS as it cruises down the Brooklyn Bridge. Eight-twenty and still no response from my assistant to the e-mail I sent on the Blackberry earlier this morning. I hope the message got through about the abrupt change in our work location.
Thank goodness Cassie had to work today; I’ll have her house all to myself for most of the day and probably most of the evening. It’ll be a better place for our private rendezvous than my assistants’ cramped apartment in The Bronx. Because her neighborhood is so quiet around this time of day, there won’t be anyone around to ask questions. I can slip us in and out and be back home by evening to review the seating arrangements for the reception.
The cell phone in my blazer pocket chirps as I drive onto the exit of the Brooklyn Bridge. I let it ring once. Twice. Three times. My body tenses in anticipation of a fourth ring but the phone stops. My assistant got the message and is on his way.
The fast-moving rush hour traffic gets me back down to Pierrepont Street by eight forty. I ease my car into Cassie’s parking spot and step out of the vehicle. I don’t see my assistant yet, so I still have time to prepare my surprise. I pull my shopping bags out of the car and anxiously race up the concrete steps. I let out a sigh of relief after I unlock the door and slip myself into the house. Running around in secret gives me such a rush.
I hurry up the pink carpeted staircase and go straight into the bedroom. I told my assistant to be here at nine sharp, so I don’t have much time. After I push aside Cassie’s silver perfume tray I set up our romantic buffet of champagne, strawberries and chocolate sauce. I know those old Bobby Brown discs are here somewhere; there they are right between the Whitney Houston and Vanessa Williams discs. I slip Bobby Brown’s Don’t be Cruel and Bobby in the Bose CD changer and hit play. My body tingles when the music starts; Bobby’s crooning gets me in the mood faster than Viagra.
While Don’t Be Cruel pumps from the surround sound speakers in the room, I gingerly sprinkle red rose petals across the pink carpet as I walk out of the bedroom and tread softly down the stairs into the foyer. When the last handful of petals falls at the front door, I look up at the path I created. My assistant should know where to go.
I quickly hurry upstairs to finish getting the bedroom ready. As I’m making up the bed my cell phone rings once then stops. Yes! Elvin found the house.
My heart beats rapidly when I hear the locks on the door twisting. Following my instructions, he unlocks the door with the key I hid under the doormat for him. Hearing his soft footsteps trod up the stairs my body tenses.
My assistant strides into the doorway and gives me a cute smile. He runs his fingers through his short curly black hair in a sexy way that arouses me. I can’t wait to get my hands on him.
“You’re five minutes early.” I say checking my Rolex watch. “Did anyone see you?”
“Not a soul.” Elvin answers taking off his jacket.
“Ready to go to work?” I say removing my tie.
“I’m ready for any job you want me to do boss.” Elvin says unbuttoning his shirt.

1 comment:

  1. Interesting, Shawn, as was the first. You have a virtual gift for writing the you are there material and we are there -- wide-eyed and looking on.

    Your characterizations are just great and one day you'll be well known for them. It's characters, you know, that we remember most of all. We couldn't care less if the people depicted don't move us.

    Okay, I'll look forward to whatever you bring out next.