The Beginning
Max shakes his shaggy blonde head and glances sideways; damn she smells good. Not her cologne, which is very faint. He has a keen sense of smell, so if it is faint to him that means it is practically nonexistent. No, this was all her. Clover with hints of nectar. Good enough to, well... The visual isn’t too shabby either. She is just his kind of woman.
He covertly checks out what he can see of her as they stand in line for coffee. She is middle-aged, with flawless, golden skin. She has that ageless look that many Black women between thirty-five and fifty have, it is always difficult for him to determine. However old she happens to be, is fine by him, her smell is sending him into overdrive.
He stares at her back covered in a silky red shirt, and her nicely rounded backside which is covered in what appears to be high-waisted, panel-front, sailor jeans. She has long legs, and ombre heels covering her dainty feet. Honey brown highlights mingle with darker brown hair to the middle of her back.
Images of him running his fingers through it and tugging, while he cups that ample backside as she rides him flood his mind. This woman is Fuego! She is... what’s the word? “Thicc”? Is that it? She's just the kind that won't break under him in bed. He has never had any use for the pencil-thin girls. He just loves the feel of a plush woman in his arms.
She must feel the weight of his stare because she glances back at him. Their eyes meet, and he feels a jolt in his groin. This is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen; full glossy lips, a high, defined nose bridge with a slightly rounded tip that he wants to tweak. She has big, brown, sleepy eyes that a man could drown in, peering at him from underneath thick, dark lashes. He can see from her slight turn that her curves are just as plentiful in the front as in the back. Her lips part. She unconsciously purses her lips and hastily glanced away.
Perhaps the heat in his eyes made her uncomfortable, had she guessed that he was fantasizing about gripping handfuls of her ample backside while she rode him like a bucking bronco? Sweet heavens above, what is wrong with him? He is behaving like a young cub in heat. He is a grown man. Surely, he can stand in line to get coffee without visually assaulting the local citizens, no matter how attractive said citizen might be.
Red nails tap impatiently on the counter. Her fingers are thin and graceful on her tiny hands; she wears one of those chunky charm bracelets. Her rings are also oversized; he glances at her left hand, not married, good. Good? He is losing it. When was the last time he had been laid? Too long evidently. He would have to remedy that.
Eh... time to think of something else, ANYTHING else. He turns his thoughts to the meeting with his attorney scheduled for later this morning. The developers are leaning on his family and making life decidedly unpleasant. With Columbus metro growing and attracting young urban types from all over, due to its affordability, it is time to protect their sanctuary. It is necessary to ensure that it remains just that, their private sanctuary.
That is hard to do when you own twenty-five acres of prime real estate at the very heart of the city. The steps taken today should provide them, and future descendants, with some breathing room. Room that is sorely needed if their kind were to remain in the shadows as they had for generations.
