Roses – The Right Temptation

Namsta Naomi J. – Yaadinfo Contributor    [ Website ]

Roses - A Distinctive Little Anecdote

Never Mix Alcohol with Sexy

The huge neon sign hanging above the grandeur entrance throbbed as we moseyed through the revolving doors. Greeted by nothing but a sea of faces, Aunt Matty Mae’s was heaving with Friday night revellers. The modestly sized soul food bar and restaurant, situated right in the heart of Leicester Square, was definitely the place to be.
“Oh my days, it’s well rammed in ‘ere,” I couldn’t help gasping in amazement.
“Yeah, it usually is on a Friday,” Marlon said, flicking through the wad of crisp twenty pound notes in his wallet.
“Cool, well as long as we can eat cos I’m famished mate,” I giggled, soaking up the lively atmosphere.

Considering I’d only eaten a bowl of porridge and half of a stale tuna sandwich that day, it was no wonder my stomach probably thought my throat had been slashed. Without any warning, Marlon tenderly pulled me into his six foot three frame with my head just about meeting his broad shoulders.
“Have you missed me?” he whispered into my ears.
More than you’ll ever know Marlon.
“Just a little I guess,” I coolly smiled trying to suppress the swell of butterflies fluttering around in my tummy.
“Seen it’s like that is it?” Marlon laughed, raising his eyebrows.
How can I not be total awe of that deep dimpled cheeked smile of his?
“Maybe,” I replied, fingering the lapels on his charcoal grey Hugo Boss suit.
“Well I’ve missed you,” Marlon mouthed before kissing me on the cheek.
“Hmmm if you say so,” I quipped.
“I do actually rude girl. How about a drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind one thanks.”
Loosening his embrace, Marlon turned around and strolled towards the thirsty mob swarming the NFL themed bar.
“Mmmmm,” I gulped, trying to etch out his little buns of steel stupidly hidden by the blazer.
“Marcia! What you drinking?” Marlon shouted over his shoulder.
“A-Ahem…JD and coke please…” I stammered.

“You’ve got a message, you’ve got a message!” my (pretty annoying) phone text tone sung from the inside of my electric purple clutch purse.

Oh yeah! The rave in Old Street. With work being so hectic today, it was the last thing on my mind.
“I’ll call her tomorrow,” I mumbled, watching Marlon walk back some minutes later.
I couldn’t help checking out his fresh fade hair cut and those oh so smart black lace-up, pointed toe shoes.
“Very slick indeed,” I concluded, taking one of the low ball glasses from his hands.

Two hours, a large portion of sticky barbeque chicken wings, four (small of course) helpings of corn bread, and a few JD and cokes later, Marlon and I were catching jokes over a candlelit table. Usually I could hold my drink but tonight? Boy oh boy, it really felt like the alcohol had gone straight to my head.
“This is my chooonneee…” I hiccupped.
The in-house soul singer, who bore a striking resemblance to RnB crooner Brian McKnight, had started singing a cappella version of Anthony Hamilton’s Southern Stuff.
“Really now….Do you want me to sing to you?” Marlon asked with those pretty brown eyes of his penetrating mine.
Talk about hypnotising.
“Sing to me? No thanks love,” I shyly laughed, fixating my eyes down on the red and white gingham table cloth.
(“Ph#ck me! Make lurve to me. Yes PURLEAZE! Oh my days.”) It’s no lie man. Marlon was the kind of sexy that would have most red-blooded females (yes, even those stush ones who would try and deny it) dropping their undies at any given opportunity. I helplessly gawked at Marlon as he had now begun sucking on his bottom lip. Other than the odd little lock of the lips (ok tongues as well) and the cheeky fondle of my lady lumps here and there since we’d started seeing each other, nothing else had happened. It was plain and simple. I fancied Marlon sooooo much.
“For friggs sake….Not again,” I muttered, hearing that all too familiar noise once more.
For about the fiftieth time that night, Marlon’s blimming mobile had started to ring. If it wasn’t ringing, it was bloody bleeping with texts!
“Just switch the blasted thing off, this is our time now!” I wanted to scream.
To be honest, of all the dates I’d been out with Marlon on, his phone had never blown up so much.
“Sorry,” Marlon said tossing the iPhone back into the inside pocket of his blazer.
“Someones’s popular….Some girl must really want you innit?” I joked.
No seriously. I couldn’t help wondering. What silly cow couldn’t take no for a frigging answer? I tell you what. IF there was another girl out there trying to muscle in on my scene, somebody was about to get hurt.
“I told you nuff times before innit b. I ain’t got no girl at the moment. Me and my last ex broke up back in February.”
Fair do’s, I guess. Besides, even his Facebook profile confirmed that he was ‘single’.
Oh well. One lady’s rubbish is the next chick’s gold, you get me.
“OK it’s cool Marlon. It ain’t like we’re a couple or anything…geez,” I said, trying to ease the sudden tension.
“Yeah, but we could be,” Marlon replied.
“Ooooaakkaaaay now that was a bit random.”
A nervous laugh fled my lips. Sorry. But was this man deliberately trying to blow my mind or something? OK so at this moment Marlon was most certainly everything I could ever dream of in a guy. Handsome. Sensitive. Great career prospects with the salary to match.
Oooh I didn’t tell you he was a rail track engineer did I? Marlon also swore on his life that there were no hidden offspring or bitter baby mothers. And I couldn’t forget the most crucial-if-not-splendid-thing about the amazing Mr Reid: he made me smile. Oh my days, it was more than fair to say it had been a little while since any guy had the ability to do that. I still couldn’t be sure just yet though. After all, I hadn’t quite finished testing the Certified Laws of Attraction: the real deal.

“Where’s the air conditioning in this place?” I mumbled, wafting the dessert menu towards my face.
Leaning forward, Marlon cupped my hands before gently weaving his fingers through mine.
“You know I like you a lot Marcia.”
Oh no. The tender squeeze of my hands.
“I know….I like me too,” I winked.
Come on Marcia, you’re not even a week away from hitting your target. Following the advice given by Johanna, in order to verify and confirm the Certified Laws of Attraction I was to abstain from any kind of sexual relations with Marlon for a minimum of two months and fifteen days.
It’s been two months and nine days already…. gawd dammit! I couldn’t help feeling disgruntled. Not that I’d been counting the days or anything and…well anyone with half a brain cell knew that there wasn’t always a lot to be gained by giving your goodies up quicker than you could say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. However it wasn’t like I’d just met Marlon. Considering I’d been celibate for well over a year by now, Mr Reid’s supernatural buffness didn’t exactly help my hormone drenched plight either! Besides how could I even be sure that the Certified Laws of Attraction mumbo jumble wasn’t just a bunch of wishy washy bull shizzle anyway? Having reviewed Doctor Fitch’s podcast for her own weekly radio show, Johanna, and apparently oodles of her female listeners were swearing by this relationship guru’s podcast. According to my best friend, it was topping the download charts so I thought it was worth a try. I couldn’t lie though, this whole certified laws thingy was starting to prove even harder to stick to then one of them slimming club plans man.
“So what do you think?” Marlon asked stroking the centre of my clammy palms.
The dim candle light rebounded against the small white gold stud in his right earlobe.
“Uhhhh, well let’s just-”
Any last chances I had of diffusing his alluring offer flew straight out of the window.
Oh my days, what you doing. This so isn’t apart of the plan! Reaching across the table Marlon gently caressed my lips with his.

[Continues Next Week…]

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