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The coffee shop seemed to take on a surreal quality as I listened to her confession."She texted me on the way back from Vermont to say she missed me. Then on New Years Day she stopped by my place in the evening and stalked around like an angry cat. I'd never seen her like that before. She was so rough with me that night, and then afterwards she said it was over between us. I never understood what happened."The bitter taste of the coffee was suddenly unbearable. I could have told her what. She looked to be a quadroon. She had a short, barely black ‘natural’ hairdo, and light hazel eyes behind glasses with rectangular black plastic frames. She oozed sexual energy and I was immediately taken with her. After a quick biographical exchange, she murmured, ‘So, when are we going out?’ ‘Huh?’ I asked, dumbly. ‘You heard me!’ she flashed, slightly more loudly. ‘If we don’t, you’ll never know what you’re missing!’ ‘Uhh…I think maybe…,’ I said, though was interrupted as Carolina walked to. Marcus since the Defense Minister wanted you to explain your men’s capabilities,’ she explained her eyes meeting mine. ‘Call me Marc and I didn’t even know your name,’ I replied to her extending my right hand. ‘I am Sara Ibrahim,’ she giggled a bit reaching for my hand, grasping it, and we both shook hands, ‘I’ll let the Minister of Defense know you’re here Marc.’ She pushed the intercom button and spoke in Arabic, a reply came and she moved away from her desk. ‘Right this way Marc,’ she. The movement was not sudden, it was slow, deliberate, as his tongue traced the piqued tip, flicked across it over and over again, until I groaned his name aloud. ‘Dominik,’ slid past my lips like a plea… for what? His head tilted upward at the sound, once again turning those eyes to me. That gaze held weight, held desire, and it smoldered. In the end, he broke away first and returned his attention to my body. His teeth scraped across the sensitive flesh until I slid a leg about his waist, heel.
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