The following is an excerpt from the novel 'Her Confession'. The Kindle edition will be available for .99 on Amazon starting tomorrow July 11th.
So when I called his cell phone that evening before I left the City County Bldg., I hoped to just engage in that stimulating conversation over dinner. He answered on the third ring, “Rigo.” He said. “Hi, Rigo this is Ashara. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for dinner, this evening.” I have always been assertive and so I said this matter of fact as if I would still have a great dinner without him. He seemed rather eager and was quite accommodating. “Hey, I see you are still at the office. How about we meet at Zeeks over on Madison St.?” I did not know what Zeeks was and he told me it’s an old jazz club that’s been in Detroit for 75 years. Until he said this I had no idea he was into jazz. “They serve great soul food.” I agreed and we were set to meet at 7pm.
I was glad he introduced me to Zeeks. It was like a set of an old film. The lighting was dim and intimate. The whole place was like a big circle surrounding a small circle stage. There was a band playing old school jazz. That day I wore those shiny jeans that were in style back then, they were a metallic gray and I wore a thin clingy black sweater. There was a older gentleman in a gray suit at the door when I entered he said, “Good evening sister. Would you like the dining room?” I told him I was meeting someone there. He said, “Rigo?” Apparently he was a regular. He led me to a small circular booth in the middle of the restaurant near the stage. Rigo wasn’t there, but the gentleman assured me that is where he was sitting. I sat down and looked around. I like to observe people and locations. Zeeks is the kind of place that would make a great location for a film. I made a mental note of that. I wondered how much they would charge me to shoot there.
A few moments passed and I became a little impatient. There was a small fake flower arrangement on the table, a candle that wasn’t lit, and a little caddy with salt, pepper and sugar packets. I first segregated the packets. Then I moved the flowers to the other side of the candle. A waiter wearing the standard black slacks, white dress shirt and black bow tie stopped at my table and took the candle from me. He smiled and lit it for me. “Good evening, sista” I smiled and said hi. Then he just left. I guessed he wasn’t my server. Just as I wondered where is Rigo? He appeared looking quite handsome in brown slacks and a brown and crème shirt. He always looked neat and smooth like he came out of a GQ magazine.
“I see you found it. How do you like it?” He smiled and joined me in the booth. He had a smile that took ten years of his face. He looked his age, twenty-four, but when he smiled he looked boyish and very handsome. In the past month I had not remembered him so handsome. I must have been enthralled in work and school so much that he had slipped my mind.
“It’s nice. It has a nice vibe.“ I replied. He told me how he loved to come there and listen to the old jazz and just chill. We sat and talked a lot about everything. Rigo was passionate about everything. He talked a great deal; sometimes I could barely get a word in. I was enjoying myself though. We had been sitting there for about two hours when he asked me did I want to dance. I had been nursing my amaretto sour so long the ice was melted. There were only a few couples on the small dance floor. One couple was old and they looked very much in love. I guess he saw me smiling at them and figured I wanted to dance. But I was just thinking how they looked so content. I wondered how long had they been in love? Would I ever feel like that?
“Do you wanna dance?” he asked. The tingles I felt when he took me in his arms surprised me. His hands splayed at the small of my back and his cheek was next to mine. My body responded to his strongly. I felt instantly aroused and I couldn’t believe my feelings. He whispered, “You smell good.” I could feel his breath on my ear. “So do you,” I replied. Then he moved so that he was looking in my eyes and his lips were inches from mine. “What do you call that?” he asked. “What,” I replied mesmerized. I did not know he was still referring to my perfume. “Your perfume,” “Oh, it’s French, it was a gift, I forget how you pronounce it C’est something,” he cut me off by kissing me then. His lips were soft and his kiss was passionate. I couldn’t believe we were having this moment in public. I had never been an exhibitionist. But even though I thought these things, I did not push him away. I kissed him back and surrendered to the moment, the jazz music, the candlelight, and my very first taste of Rigo.
He walked me to my car and we did not want to part. He invited me to his apartment several times. He told me he lived in Ann Arbor and that I should come see his house. He explained that it was not that far, and I could get on 94 downtown and take it west. I could follow him, or he would drive and bring me back. It took all my will power that night not to go to his home. Rigo was so manipulative. He always had a way of explaining something that was not a good idea and yet make it seem rational. But I refused him that night. I could not drive thirty-five miles to and from his house and still go to class the next morning. So we kissed once more. This kiss was even more intimate and deep than the kiss at the club. It was like we didn’t want to end it, as if we were at the airport saying our goodbyes. I agreed to visit his condo the coming Friday.
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