This was the start of Norma’s romantic adventure with Mr Donovan. Donovan Hughes, the ex Ecuadorian millionaire who turned Jesuit priest. She was enamored by his dedication to working with the homeless children of the Andes. Now in America, he finds himself helping disadvantaged children of color in the inner city of Los Angeles, and so the adventure begins.
Today was like yesterday, booorrrring. “So the f – what, she doesn’t have the documents. Doesn’t she know we have a presentation today with the investors,” Norma screamed at her intern.
“But, but, Ms. Wilson, they have a traffic jam on the 405, and Destiny is caught in the middle of it,” the intern stated frantically.
“Oh. Well, that’s no excuse, she should have gotten on that damn freeway earlier,” Norma retorted back.
“Ms. Wilson, it was one of those car chases on the 405, and when the driver got out of the car, the CHP and LAPD just shot the guy for no reason. Now it’s just a big mess out there coming into downtown. You know how all the law enforcement people are nowadays. They are very jumpy, since those two incidents of being shot at while just sitting in their patrol cars,” further iterated the intern.
“Um,” Norma contemplated out loud, not knowing what to do next. She was flummoxed. There was the meeting with the investors this morning. She was relying on Destiny’s report. They had talked for 2 hours last night and she was psyched. Damn, that 405 she said to herself while biting her lower lip.
“Ms. Wilson, the gentlemen from New York are here,” her secretary announced, as she entered her office.
“Oh shoot,” Norma blurted. “Now I’m really in hot water.” Norma’s secretary looked at Norma and wondered what could be going on in her boss’s head right now? She was always the epitome of calm, cool, and collective. Now it seems she’s a ball of nerves.
“Ms. Wilson, let them in,” asked the secretary?
“Not now, Elizabeth, tell them I’m just wrapping something up over the phone.”
“Okay,” stated Elizabeth, as she walked out the room to inform the investors. Bidding for time, bidding for time, these were the thoughts on Norma’s mind. She was a nervous Nelly, and her mind unconsciously fogged out of her predicament. 15 minutes had elapsed, time gone by that she could not recall where it had gone. How was her manners? 15 minutes to have investors waiting, that is a hole no investee can overcome with an initial investors meeting. Before standing up and straightening out her skirt and looking at the time, she wondered, Where did those 15 minutes go? A paralysis had set in, as she relived 15 minutes of absent thought.
The warm beads of water tapping against her skin were massaging in nature and very relaxing. Mindlessness had set in. But a type of mindlessness that comes when being taken care of, secure. The status of complete submission to the moment. She had every good reason to go numb. A mindlessness free of thought, because she was free. Truly free, as Donovan was there in the shower with her taking control.
In his mind, Donovan found himself in the presence of an exquisitely beautiful Cocoa chocolate, Brown skin woman. He was not at the top of his game, but very nervous. He had never in his life known the love of an African-American woman. He recalls the Black jocks back in his Stanford days that dated within their race and seemed zombified from their relationship and it scared him. Was there an antidote to Carlos Santana’s Black Magic Woman? Yes there was. An antidote that he learned at the footstool of his abuela in the Andes.
Norma felt both her shoulders firmly being held in the clutching hands of Donovan. She felt safe with him. She was not facing him, but had her back to him. He was beginning to make his assent on her. She felt the touch of each thumb on the back of her shoulder blades, while the sides of her shoulders fitted comfortably in his palms. She couldn’t look back, not at him, nor in time, as the tips of each finger were pressing in her flesh. He bent down to kiss her carnally, between her right shoulder and neck. The first kiss there was slow and intense. Eyes closed, to prevent the dripping overhang of wet curls from the hair locks of his Andean ancestry from seeping into her eyes, was the opportunity to breathe her in. To exhume his nostrils full of the sweet, tangy, musk, from her natural scent. Cocooned in a symphonic aural of blissful neural sensations. A stupor, not so easy to recover from. The eternalness of this Nirvanic state only lasted 13 seconds before streams of unconscious thoughts were thrust through a portal that arrived at its destination of temporal consciousness. Once he was awakened to the warm beads of streaming water being sprayed from a shower head, he noticed her. His Nirvana, here on Earth. With little haste, he seized his lips into her. Hands tracking down her arms, while tongue trekked the nape of spine. Finding himself on his knees, at a place never traveled before, drawn like a moth to light, to a temptation that he was too bereft of strength not to succumb to, as his tongue continued its destination…
The cry she uttered, body trembling all over, knees buckling, encouraged him to press the tip of his tongue further into the septum of her anal canal. He tasted her there, and found her pleasing. She smells so intoxicating down there. A woman, a precious woman. Curling his tongue to insert itself some more. More of her, and more of her. Spurred by her every moan and panting. He could never leave this most secretive of places to her intense pleasure. Her complete delirium should have caused her to collapse, but for the buffering by the shower walls, as the hot liquid beads emanating from the shower’s nozzle rained down her like a platoon of masseurs, cajoling and kneading wherever it touched.
“Now Ms. Wilson, you never told us that you knew Donovan Hughes,” stated Jonathan Quigley, of the investment firm Quigley, Quigley, and Meyer. His expression revealed he was most impressed.
“Why yes, I have become quite acquainted with Ms Wilson since returning from the Andes,” stated Donovan.
“Well that settles it then. Sorry we could not stay longer Ms. Wilson, and catch your presentation, but we have to go. I know it would have been spectacular. Oh, by the way, you’re getting your loan.” After firmly shaking the hand of Donovan Hughes, Jonathan Quigley and the two other gentlemen who arrived at Norma’s office left. Both Elizabeth and Norma’s heads were spinning, wondering what just had happened? She was 15 minutes late to a meeting inside her own office, and Donovan had only arrived five minutes ago.
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The atmosphere of chattering voices, clattering glasses of alcoholic intoxicants, and dining utensils, inside the Waldorf hotel were subdued by the dimness of the lighting. Norma was carefully reading over their menu. Each new item she read seemed to cause new secretions of salvation. Engrossed in the menu, she was unaware of all the stares surrounding her.
It all began when she first walked in. Her body was perfectly contoured in a Mozi Shangali dress. The hot, fresh New York based designer from the Swazi. Hair pinned, ears in pearls, neck bedazzling a single white pearl, connected to a thin lace of platinum. When she “arrived,” as they say, the room seemed to be commanded by her. Her gait, in a pair of Domani de Chérette did more than allow her to control a room, she seemed to be floating on air. The payoff of 2 years of charm School academia in her adult years. There were not too many other women of color, except for staff, and this crew of maitre D’s had seen them all, and we’re not easily impressed. Men staring, and agitating the women they were with, who were staring too, but for different reasons.
Across from her sat Donovan, who was going over their menu too.