Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Lounging on the couch, beer bottle in hand, he watched this woman twist her body in ways that didn’t even seem humanly possible. Some of her movements reminded him of a corkscrew, or wine twisting and turning in slow motion as it was poured from the decanter.
Two silky black braids swayed along her back as she popped her hips from left to right. His hard-on was inevitable. He was convinced she was exaggerating her movements now, knowing she was teasing him, working him up into a sexual frenzy. The straps of her peach-colored sports bra kept sliding off her shoulder. She eventually stopped trying to fix it and kept on moving, like a spring breeze. When she did her final spin, he clapped.
“That was beautiful.”
“Of course I didn’t show you my surprise move, or the grand finale. That’ll have to do,” she stated a little breathlessly as she went to turn off the music.
“Come sit with me.” He patted the cushion beside him.
“I’m hot. I worked up a sweat.” She ran the back of her hand across her brow, then grabbed her bottle of water from the floor and gulped down what was left of it. She crushed the bottle and sighed in pleasure. “I’m going to jump in the shower, honey. I’ll be right back.”
When she left, he turned on the television and let his mind wander like a nomad.
Kim’s good at what she does. I’m glad she’s found a way to use her talents again. That would’ve been a shame if it went to waste… I hope Diesel didn’t get into the trash. Last time I left the house for more than a few hours, stuff was strewn everywhere and when I yelled at him about it, he cowered on the floor, making himself look like a black bearskin rug. I don’t want to be too hard on him. He’s improved overall with his training, but that trash seems irresistible to him. I have to break him of this. He’s worse than the bears.
He changed the channel once he realized he’d landed on a comedy sitcom. Now there was some soccer game on, and everyone was speaking in Italian. In the distance, he could hear the shower being turned on. The black and white ball on the screen rolled against the vibrant green turf as shiny-faced young men kicked and chased it, and cheers and jeers from the crowd erupted.
He took a sip of his beer, set it back down on the coffee table, then got to his feet. More cheering from the television ensued as he walked, as if his purpose deserved a standing ovation. Her bedroom door was ajar, so he pushed it the rest of the way open. He peered inside but remained close to the door, then caught her singing the lyrics to Joy Crookes’ ‘Trouble,’ as it played in the bathroom. Probably from her mp3 player she often hooked an external speaker to. Kim had a beautiful singing voice, mellow and fine-tuned. He threaded inside, closing the door behind him. The bathroom door was open, and he could see his Love behind a clear curtain. He stood there for a while, viewing the piece of art that she was moving slowly and gracefully…
The overhead ceiling light made her appear like a 1970s vintage photograph in muted tones of yellows and beiges. He could almost envision the lines, wrinkles, and creases in a make-believe photograph, circa 1976, and she was the star of the show. Classic springtime nostalgia. A vintage soul inside of a new age body, shared with a futuristic spirit covered in daffodils and shards of steel.
He was wrong. She didn’t grow from snow—she grew from marble, wood, and iron. She grew right from the core of his heart.
“Hey,” he tapped on the door, then leaned on the white bathroom wall. Arms and ankles crossed.
She peeped around the curtain, startled at first, then brandished a smile.
“You scared me, baby. I didn’t even hear you come in.” She raked a hand over her hair, flicking the wet braids back from her shoulders.
He went to the sink and began to wash his hands. They’d been eating popcorn earlier while watching a movie he barely recalled now. Then, he dried them off on the finger towel, embroidered with two kissing owls—one orange, the other brown. Robert Glasper’s, ‘Shine,’ featuring D Smoke and Tiffany Gouché started to play. Popping open the toilet lid, he lowered his zipper and took a long leak. He flushed the toilet and turned to her, catching her with her gaze on his dick. She quickly turned away, as if being snapped out of a dream, and began to rinse the soap off her body.
He watched the water cascade down her curvy frame through the clear curtain, along her back, into the crack of her ass, and over well-defined calves and soft feet he had the pleasure of massaging often. Taking his clothes off and pushing the shower curtain aside, he slipped surreptitiously into the tub behind her. Kim’s eyes remained closed. He inched closer until he was standing less than half an inch from her, then reached in front of her body and cupped her pussy with his hand. A firm grip.