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The Only One

Chapter 15

On their first 2 dates, Troy Briggs and Debbie Marlowe had adhered to protocol. They had met for drinks and conversation, becoming better acquainted while enjoying each other's company…

“I’m debating about whether I want to get the latest IPad,” Troy had said, taking a swallow of his Heineken, “because in a matter of months they’ll come out with a new and improved version.”

“That’s for sure,”Debbie had agreed, sipping her Cosmopolitan. “They always do that.”

“Apple honchos are marketing geniuses with their planned obsolescence strategy,” he’d asserted.

“Right,” she’d nodded. “Steve Jobs was really smart, and he didn’t even finish college!”

“Yeah,” he’d added. “Neither did Bill Gates, but he and Steve Jobs were both visionaries.”

“True,” she’d smiled. “Steve Jobs’ death was such soooo tragic. He and Bill Gates were, like, - pioneers.”

“Exactly,” he’d nodded. “They revolutionized the industry.”

“Exactly,” she’d echoed.

They’d taken in a movie on their second outing, continuing to hone their attraction for each other while discussing the relationship of the characters in the film.

“I thought the dude was bogus ,” Troy had scoffed, voicing his opinion of the male lead in the film.“He got what he deserved in the end.”

“He certainly did,” Debbie had affirmed. “He was, like, - a real jerk.”

The third time around ended with Troy being invited up to Debbie’s apartment for a night cap after they’d enjoyed a leisurely dinner at a trendy Thai restaurant, courtesy of Debbie’s platinum VISA. Now, here they were in the bedroom that would soon provide a backdrop for the grand finale as, aroused by deep-throated kisses and roving hands, unable to wait any longer, they began to undress each other.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since day one,” he panted, unhooking her bra and tugging at her thong.

“I’m soooo glad to hear that!” she squealed, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his fly as he raked his fingers through her hair and gnawed on her earlobe.

“I know it’ll be good,” he breathed when they fell back naked on her bed and their fantasies kicked in; just like they’d imagined – her pink nipples erect, her ivory thighs spread, her blond snatch throbbing…waiting for… his spear to take aim at the wild thing waiting in the bush.

Then reality took over, and spurred on by her urgency, he quickly screwed his bulging hardness into her moist softness, each swift thrust evoking a deeper thrill as he went to work, stroking away, taking them to where they were frantic to go, getting the job done to the tune of moans and shrieks, bringing it like he knew he could, nailing it like she hoped he would and, finally - it was all good

“Goddamn,” he shuddered as his heaving body collapsed on hers.

“Awesome!” was all she managed to gasp as she clutched his back and they lie there, drenched with each other…

“Can we - make this a habit?” he finally asked, having visions of blue skies and billowy clouds and a smiling Debbie in a field of daisies, running toward him in slow motion, her flowing white dress fluttering, her long, sun-kissed hair blowing in the wind.

“Oooh, yes,” she sighed, closing her eyes, imagining herself the willing captive of her mighty tribal prince, bare and brawny, hands on hips, his erection perfection, - the majestic ruler of his wild kingdom!

Staring out his window, watching the male figure stride away from his Camry and swagger toward the building across the street, Brooks Jones was amused, having figured out last week, who it was this brotha was so regularly going to visit. The dude could hardly wait to get to that blond piece of pussy, and had Brooks known his white female neighbor had a thing for black dicks, he would’ve done more than return her nods when their paths occasionally crossed while walking their dogs. Not that it would’ve done any good.

Brooks Jones was 35 years old, and for 12 of those years, he had been a cop. He hadn’t originally intended to make police work a career. It was just supposed to have been a way station on his path to obtaining a law degree, - just a means to make money for tuition. But, somehow, Brooks had never gotten around to accomplishing that goal.

If fact, there were a lot things Brooks had never gotten around to achieving. He thought by now that he’d be a homeowner, a husband, and a father. But police work was hard on relationships. Not that he needed anything to make his affairs with women any worse because, although there were always prospects, unlike the smooth babe-magnet who was his partner, Philip Atkins, Brooks was a loser in the dating game. Every time he met someone with possibilities, she turned into a disaster because women always ended up being repelled by his quick temper and - his other problems. They never seemed to realize that his flaws were trade-offs for the caring, generous guy he could also be. And, maybe he wasn’t that great in the looks department, but at least he possessed a broad scope of knowledge, and always had money to take his dates out to clubs and concerts.

As Brooks Jones continued to stand at the window of his bachelor apartment, pumping a hand weight, listening to jazz vocalist Dianne Reeves on his IPod, he couldn’t help but contemplate his life, or rather his double life. A hard-nose, dedicated police detective by day, and a hard-dick, determined lady-killer by night. Yeah, right…

Strolling along, on his way to a much anticipated tryst, Troy was deep in thought, reviewing the dramatic turn his life had taken. One day he had been a “closet womanizer”, leading vulnerable hopefuls on with his come-hither glances, and after a single passionate night, a complete reversal of fortune had transformed him. Now, he was the real deal,- a winner; right up there with the professional athletes and the media celebrities and the other high-profile black men, the business executives and intellectual college professors. Yep. He had him a white woman. A beautiful, remarkable lady who made him feel like a desirable, remarkable man, - an incredible companion who was interested in everything he had to say, who showered him with attention and positive reinforcement, and to whom money was not an issue, or sex a bargaining tool. Perfect.

And as he entered the foyer of Debbie Marlowe’s apartment building, ready to be buzzed in by his queen bee, he could hardly wait to see how happy his arrival would make his honey-dripping sweetie pie!

“Why do you always clam up when it comes to your daughter?” Debbie asked Troy later as they lie together in her bed, cuddling. “I want to hear more about her.”

Troy closed his eyes and sighed. “Treena was a brave beautiful child. Even though her condition was terminal and her brain damaged, she had a very bright spirit.”

“Maybe being retarded was a blessing,” Debbie sympathized. “She didn’t know what was going on so she didn’t know she was going to die.”

Troy’s jaw tightened. “My ex-wife would’ve certainly agreed with that point of view,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for – being insensitive,” Debbie quickly apologized, pecking him on the forehead, stroking his face. “And I certainly don’t want to remind you of someone who caused you so much trouble.”

“Trouble is right.”

“You know, sweetie, it just amazing how well adjusted you are after all you’ve gone through.”

“Adversity sometimes makes a man strong."

“You’re proof of that,” she agreed, “and you’d think that with all they’ve been through, other black men would show more strength, - all this business about them feeling invisible.”

He stopped munching on her boobs long enough to look up. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just something - Carole Everly said about this book…”

He flinched. “What would Carole Everly ever have to say if she didn’t read so much,” he muttered.

“Carole liked you, you know.”

“Yeah, and Stan Kowalski told me he had the hots for you!”

Debbie briefly considered what she’d just been told about another of her co-workers, and rolled her eyes upward. “I didn’t think that dumb polack cared about anything but the Cubs and Budweiser.”

“He also seemed to be very fond of his porn collection," Troy remarked. " Maybe he and Carole Everly could hook up. The book worm and - the dirty bird.”

She dissolved into giggles. “I can just picture him - eating her! You’re so witty and clever. Even Marty thinks so,” she said referring to the dog laying on the foot of the bed who had just raised his head and bared his teeth. “My own personal – Chris Rock!”

“Wish I had Chris Rock’s money.”

“You’ve got something much better than money,” she cooed, feeding him her tongue, fondling his dick.

“Damned right,” he bragged, flipping her over on her belly, boosting her butt up, “and in honor of Chris and Marty, - I’m gonna blow my wad, doggie-style!”

“Ruff-ruff!” she laughed.

Resting his head between his paws, Marty growled.

To be continued – only a few more chapters to go before this little black book will come to an end…

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