Here it is, finally. Need I repeat the disclaimer from Part I?
As she sought to get more comfortable, it felt to Diane like a flashlight was pushing up on her backside but then to her horror, when it twitched, she realized that she was arousing him! She immediately got up from the couch and, feigning the need to go to the bathroom, locked the bathroom door behind her and stared at her wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. What the hell is going on?!, she inwardly screamed.
Jerome, now sitting on the couch, knew exactly what had happened. She must’ve felt my hard-on, and that’s why she made up that flimsy excuse to go to the bathroom, he thought. Shoot, she literally ran off. Could it be? Could she be attracted to me?
Diane, having persuaded herself that she was just being silly, eventually came out of the bathroom a convincing four minutes later. After all, she thought, dude has a fiancée, for crying out loud, and he knows I know that. Besides, guys get hard-ons all the time, and it could’ve been one of those instances. Thus empowered, she stepped out the bathroom and flashed him a smile as if nothing had happened.
“I’m so tired,” she sighed as she sat back down on the couch. “I don’t want to take a nap though coz I’ll feel like crap when I get up, then have to leave soon after.”
After a moment of silence, and probably deliberation, Jerome turned over and looked at her.
“Do you still like massages as much as you used to?” he queried.
“Dang, you remember that?” she replied, pleasantly surprised that he did.
“Of course,” he said. “How could I forget? Matter of fact, scoot over. Sit down here.” He gestured toward the carpet, to the spot between his feet. “I’ll give you a quick backrub.”
She was hesitant, but only for a quick minute. After all, it’s not like people go out there all the time offering free backrubs right and left. Plus, she really could’ve used one; it had been ages since she’d got one and that other cat hadn’t done it do it too good, so she relented and surrendered to his ministrations.
Jerome evidently had considerable experience administering backrubs because in no time at all, he got Diane’s eyes closed and had her whimpering. He did it just how the Asians do it and just how she liked it – excruciating. It hurt so good, and in a minute she was putty in his hands. But then, all too soon, he stopped.
“Why did you stop,” she implored, “just when it was getting really good?”
“You know,” he responded, “it would be better if my hands were touching your bare skin. Your shirt gets in the way and I really can’t knead into the muscles as well as I could.”
“But I’m wearing a tank-top. I’d have to take it off!”
“Do it,” he said. “You’re wearing a bra anyway, right?”
“Ha ha! That’s beside the point but yes, I am.”
“So do it. I’ll make it worth your while. And I mean that in the nicest possible way,” he said, wearing his most disarming grin.
That last statement reassured her, somewhat, that he wasn’t trying anything funny and despite the warning bells pealing away inside her dome again, she got up and pulled her top off.
“I’d better not catch you staring at my boobs,” she warned, with a grin though.
“It’s inevitable that I will, but don’t worry about it. I promise not to touch,” he retorted.
She sat back down and he proceeded. Hot damn, she thought, he’s right! That feels so much better! Then Jerome started talking. It was more to himself than to her.
“You’ve such tension in your muscles; I can feel it. Don’t worry, I’ll take it all out. You’ve really good skin, I gotta say. So smooth.” He sniffed her shoulder. “You smell good too. And don’t be saying that’s your natural scent. But it still smells good. Does that feel good? Yes? Alright, I’ll knead into it some more and….. Uh oh, what do we have here? Your neck muscles are so taut! Not to worry, I’ll take care of that too. But dang, the skin on your neck is so smooth. It’s like… like…”
Then he stopped. Diane looked up and around at him and was like: wha?
“You know what could be even better though?” he queried.
She knew then that he was up to no good, but she still wasn’t totally convinced. Before she could stop herself she already was like:
“What could possibly be better than this?”
“Massage oil,” he said. “Only I don’t have any right now, damn.” He paused. “I do have baby oil though, how about that?”
Before she could respond he was already sifting through the contents of his travel bag, only to triumphantly hold up a travel-size bottle of baby oil. On his way back to the couch he cut the TV off and cut a small CD player on and wouldn’t you know it, Gladys Knight and the Pips [or the pimps, as my boy calls them] came on. He then reclaimed his spot on the couch, squeezed some oil in his left palm, rubbed both hands together to heat the oil up then went back to the backrub, all this to Gladys singing about leaving on some midnight train to Georgia or someplace.
This time Jerome really put his foot in it and by the time he was done with the backrub, Diane was as relaxed and as cool as Freddie Jackson sipping a milkshake in a snowstorm, as Outkast might say. All the while, as he was going at it, he kept talking about how soft her skin was, how good her hair looked, how graceful the nape of her neck was, etcetera, laying it on thicker than molasses. She was a little disconcerted at all the compliments but hey, the backrub had been too good for her to think too much about anything else.
“Aaahhh,” she involuntarily whispered as she stood up and stretched. “That felt so good! Thanks.”
“You know what could be even better though?” he asked softly, looking deep into her eyes.
“What?” she asked before she could catch herself.
“This,” he said as he stepped up to her and kissed her.
She was still in her bra and had been trying to pull the outward side of her tank-top out when he stepped up to her, put his hands on her bare waist and kissed her. She was shook. Jerome pulled back and looked into her eyes again. She was rendered immobile by the sheer passion that emanated from his eyes; his pupils were dilated with desire. He took her silence for consent and went for the jugular again, and this time her eyes closed and her mouth opened up under his. Despite herself she could feel the adrenalin, or estrogen for that matter, racing through her bloodstream, warming her up. His mouth became more insistent, more searching, and she responded in kind. Their arms involuntarily stroked each other up and down and they, without either of them remembering exactly how it happened, found themselves lying on the couch going at it.
“Oowww,” Diane suddenly mouthed, almost unintelligibly because his lips were locked on hers. “Something’s digging into my back.” Jerome reluctantly got up off her, helped her up and glared at the little bottle of baby oil then, in one decisive motion, scooped Diane up in his arms, carried her off to the bed and eased her onto it, kissing her all the while. He then got off the bed and started to strip.
“Wait, wait!” Diane said, trying to sit up. “What are we doing? I can’t do this! This is wrong!”
“Nothing’s wrong baby,” Jerome responded, sitting down on the bed and taking her hand. “It’s obvious we both want this to happen.”
“That still doesn’t make it right!” she said, jerking her hand away from his.
“But I love you!” he declared.
You could’ve heard a pin drop.
“You heard me?” Jerome insisted. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Diane couldn’t believe it. Here he was, about to be married, professing his undying love for her.
“This is ridiculous. I gotta go!” She started to get up.
“Wait!” he implored. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?! What do you mean what’s wrong?! You’re engaged! You’re about to get MARRIED, for goodness’ sake! Then you sit there and tell me you love me? Pul-lease! What am I supposed to do, sleep with you just because you said you loved me?! Getouttahere!”
“But baby, look,” he persisted. “I don’t love her. I thought I did but today, when I saw you, I knew then I didn’t love her. I never loved her. I love you, and always will, till I die. I can’t help myself.”
“Well, I don’t love you,” she retorted. “How’re you gonna blindside me with this now? I never saw it coming. And, I can’t very well marry you now, I’m not ready for any of that.”
“You know what, I’d wait for you to be ready. As long as it takes,” he softly said.
She was speechless. Before she could say anything else he was all over her again and, despite her mind screaming at her to stop and get the hell outta there, her body responded to him of its own volition. Her attraction to him was undeniable, and he seemed to know it. Lord help me, she thought as she surrendered to the feeling. One minute she was unbuckling his belt and the next her bra was off. They were steadily headed to the point of no return and he was just about to brush his left palm on her right nipple when, of all times, someone knocked on the door.
They both froze, bewildered, the sexual haze ebbing in an instant. The next 25 seconds had them leaping off the bed, finding their discarded clothes and hastily putting them on, Diane running to sit on the couch and Jerome heading toward the door, just as the knock came again.
“Who is it?!” he bellowed.
“Front desk, sir,” a male voice said. “You have an urgent call.”
“Transfer the call to my room then!” he irritably said as he opened the door.
“We’ve been trying to, but the phone just keeps ringing.” Diane glanced over at the phone and, would you believe it, the cord had been disconnected from the wall.
That sneaky bastard planned this all along, she inwardly seethed. How could I have been so stupid?! And with that, she grabbed her purse, reached under the couch for her bra which she’d hastily tucked under there, put it in the purse, got up and stormed out the door in between the bewildered men, and walked down the hall to the elevator without a backward glance.