It was hard for me to sit in that hospital room watching, waiting, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. The whole atmosphere was scary for me. It reminded me of the things I feared when I was a little boy, like when I would get into trouble and would have to wait in my room wondering what type of punishment would be handed down. The fear of the unknown.

That kind of uncertainty is what has my heart doing somersaults. Wires and tubes were connected to machines then ran back to my daughter. Her precious body bruised and battered, lying motionless on the adjustable bed. I don’t know what’s worse, being a parent in a helpless position or being in her shoes suffering. Inside, I battle with selfish emotions, love tends to do that.

As I sit and watch her berated breathing, I then turn and focus my eyes on the EKG machine displaying its blips of dull yellow over a black screen. Where did I go wrong as a father? I am supposed to protect and provide for her, among other things, and I’ve failed.

I can remember clearly the joy I experienced watching Jasmine take her first steps, the toothless smile, she used to give me as she waddled towards my open arms, was priceless. Once she got the hang of putting one foot in front of the other, I knew she was going to be a natural. The way she learned amazed me. She picked things up so quickly; it made me think I had the most gifted daughter in the world.

When Jasmine got old enough to ride without a carseat, you couldn’t pry her out of my truck. Her independence at such a young age was innate, always wanting to show that she could do things on her own. I marveled at her thought process and just chuckled as I would watch her struggle to figure things out. Finally, I couldn’t let her go through the torture any longer and I would attempt to assist her but she would throw a fit which would make me laugh even harder. I had to admit though; I developed a respect for her determination, that’s one thing I know she gets from my gene pool.

Jasmine’s mother and I aren’t on the best of terms, in fact, we’re seldom in the same company together but we keep it cordial for the sake of our daughter. We do our best not to show our dislike for each other in front of Jasmine, she loves us both so very much it would crush her heart to see us not get along.

We weren’t always like that; the love was visible at one point. It seemed like when she became pregnant things changed. It was almost like she regretted the fact that God had blessed her with a child and she started taking her anger out on me. At first, I chalked it up to overactive hormones, something I’d read about to prepare me for the journey through pregnancy.

Usually the maternal love overrides all thoughts and actions when a child is born. To my surprise, Charmane had a sullen look about her. While I was elated at the thought of having a little girl, something I’d always wanted, she on the other hand, appeared disappointed. Once again, I blew it off as the after trauma from giving birth; however, the days and months that passed were spent in misery. I refused to let her steal my joy, so whenever I had the chance, I poured love into Jasmine. Before I left for work, I’d go check on her. When I’d return, before I would even kiss Charmane, I’d go to check on my baby. I’d volunteer to change her diaper and read her to sleep at night.

The closer Jasmine and I got, Charmane and I moved farther apart. She began to resent me because of the love I had for Jasmine which I thought was ridiculous. She purposely picked fights with me over trivial things just to stir my emotions. At times it would get to me, all I wanted to do was spend time with my daughter and she was creating a rift in our household.

As much as I hated to do it, I chose to leave before the situation turned volatile. I knew by doing that I would be jeopardizing my relationship with Jasmine, but at the rate things were going she would witness the fact that something was wrong with her parents. After some time away, the internal torment I was going through was too much to bear. I wanted desperately to be with Jasmine and she was with Charmane who acted like she didn’t even want her.

Needless to say, I came back for my daughter. If she wanted to act ignorant I was going to let her be ignorant by herself. Jasmine and I were going to enjoy life together. I’d come pick her up and take her to the park. I’d sit with her in my lap and we’d watch the leaves fall from the trees. She was very inquisitive at an early age. She would ask me the simplest of questions like “Why does the sun go to sleep at night and the moon rest during the day?” Her innocence melted my heart and leaked into my soul.

Watching her play made everything that was wrong in the world seems right. It also made me consider giving her a playmate but then tensions between her mother and I would thwart those thoughts. I was living in an emotional paradox, somewhere in a place where insanity and bliss are common bedfellows. I could’ve easily fought to keep Jasmine fulltime but that would only be for selfish reasons; Jasmine’s feelings had to be considered. Besides, stooping to Charmane’s level of if-I’m –not-happy-you’re-not-gonna-be-happy thinking and that would be way out of character for me. Our baby is the overall victim in this horrid scenario.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, I dropped by Charmane’s to surprise Jasmine and take her to the carnival that was in town. My intention was to invite Charmane as well, a sort of peace offering, she declined, but didn’t put up any resistance when I swooped up Jas and headed for the door. Her sudden mood change shocked me, I just knew I would have to damn near kidnap Jasmine to enjoy the day.

On our way out, I noticed something strange about the way she was acting. She asked me to hold on for a minute while she bent down to give Jasmine a warm loving good-bye hug. This was an extreme show of affection considering that we were only going to be gone for a few hours. As we strolled towards my truck, she stood in the doorway with an awkward stare on her face. I placed the seatbelt around Jas’s small torso then went to my side and climbed in. The look of longing was something I had never seen from Charmane’s eyes. I drove off with that vision etched in my mind.

When we arrived at the carnival, I could barely contain Jasmine’s excitement. She was jumping around, wanting to go from this ride to that game. I didn’t mind though, I had taken my vitamins that morning knowing that it was going to be a long day. After some time, I had to eventually take a break so I told her that I would watch her have fun.

She wanted to get on the octopus ride so I had to check her height to see if she was tall enough to get on by herself. I believe that last growth spurt she had put her over the mark by just an inch or two according to the little wooden clown holding the measuring stick. She got fastened in and I could see her bright smile from where I was seated outside the ride’s perimeter.

After the ride was over, she climbed down and skipped towards the exit which was on the other side opposite of the entrance. I waited patiently for her precious face to show around the corner. Seconds, which seemed like hours, passed and she still hadn’t shown. My heart sank at the thought that my baby girl was lost or even worse abducted by some deranged lunatic.

My mind couldn’t control the thoughts that ran a mile a minute. I frantically ran over to the exit to see if she might be waiting but she was no where to be found. I then thought that she may have come around the other side so I headed back to where I was sitting, still no Jasmine. Before I panicked and had a nervous breakdown, I sat down to collect my thoughts. I had to think about where a lost eight year old would go.

I scanned the immediate area a few times realizing that in the multitude of people was my little girl wandering aimlessly around looking for me. All of a sudden, what started out as a few thousand people appeared to be more like millions. Faces started blending together but no one resembled Jasmine. I examined every child that passed. Parents looked at me like I was crazy, if they only knew, I would go literally insane not having my baby.

Then I saw a little figure appeared out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t quite tell but she seemed to be the same height and size as Jas. Sometimes, in times of a crisis, your mind tends to play tricks on you so I wasn’t too sure. I walked closer to her and the picture became clearer. She was standing right to the side of the concession stand holding a tower of cotton candy. She looked scared but content when I approached. Her back was to me but turned my way as I walked up.
“Daddy!” she shrieked.

“Jasmine, baby where have you been?” I questioned, squeezing the life out of her with my hug. I didn’t know which emotion to react to first; I was scared, worried, angry, disillusioned, and relieved all at the same time.

“I got confused when I got off the ride and I couldn’t remember where you were,” tears streamed down her cheeks. All I could do was look at her tender face and wonder what I would do if I were to lose her. “I’m sorry I worried you Daddy,” her miniature voice sounded so sincere.
“It’s okay, baby. Let’s go home.”
“Alright.”

“Hey, where’d you get the cotton candy?” I asked as we exited the park. She was still chomping down on the sweetness. I grabbed a pinch myself when she said, “The nice man at the stand gave it to me.”
“What did I tell you about taking things from strangers? And you know how hyper sweets make you.” The stern look on my face made her head drop in shame.

“You said not to do it,” she answered in a voice barely audible. She gave me this look that could melt the grandest iceberg. I knew deep down inside I couldn’t work up the nerve to be mad at her. So my stare was enough for her to get the message.

When we arrived at Charmane’s, the whole scene appeared ominous. The house was dark even out front where there’s usually a porch light on, if anything. Evening had just fallen and she knew we were returning so I was a bit upset at her disregard. Just in case there was danger, I told Jasmine to stay put in the truck while I checked things out.

As I got closer to the porch, I noticed a few familiar items sitting by the door. A couple of Jasmine’s overnight bags were packed and sitting by a rather large box. Attached to the box was a note mentioning her unhappiness with her life. She said things that I never knew she felt. I read on where she told me to take care of her baby while she was gone. When she’s gone, what is she talking about?  I said to myself. I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I came across the most frightening sentence I might’ve ever read. The words literally jumped off of the page and made my heart skip two beats.

“I don’t feel like this earth deserves me so I decided to do everyone a favor and leave permanently.”
Permanently? That word had so much meaning, but what exactly? The key taped to the back might’ve shown me the answer. I fiddled with the lock until I finally pushed the door open. The house felt cold, almost eerie. I walked cautiously through the foyer into the living room, I didn’t see anyone.

“Charmane!” I called out. “Charmane, you in here?”
The silence in the walls echoed back to me. I went up the stairs to see it anything could shed some light on the mystery. The first place I checked was her bedroom. Her door was wide open but it was pitch black in there. Before I could reach the threshold, a sliver of light peaked through a crack in Jasmine’s bathroom door. My body moved but it remained frigid.

The scene was something out of one of those horror movies. Charmane’s nude frame was lying under water in my daughter’s bathtub. Skin that was once a beautiful shade of almond was transformed to a bluish hue by the drowning process.

Before I could deal with my own feelings, I had to figure out how I was going to explain that her mother committed suicide. I took a step towards the tub on watery tile. A stirring behind me halted my movements.
“Daddy, what’s taking---------,” Jasmine’s loud squeal deafened my ears before I could even respond. She saw exactly what had taken my breath. Her high pitched screams were like steel rods stabbing at my insides.

Love drew me to her but she retreated when fear overtook her. She ran uncontrollably down the dark hallway. The next thing I heard was a distant holler then a series of thuds and cracks.

The thuds were Jasmine’s tiny frame tumbling down the stairs; the cracks were her fragile bones breaking at every fall. If I could’ve been anywhere in this Universe it would’ve been around those stairs to prevent her from falling. Her plummet came to end at the base of the stairs where she just rolled over motionless. I was down the flight two at a time racing against the presence of tragedy. It was too late; it had already taken form and struck with a great force on my life. In a matter of minutes, my baby and her mother lay peacefully in a house full of horror, one without breath the other barely holding on to what she had left.

In smooth movement I picked Jasmine up in my arms and carried her to my truck where the passenger door was still ajar. On the way to the emergency room, I still had the where with all to dial the paramedics to see about Charmane. It was pretty much too late for her; there was no telling how long she had been in that bathtub. My daughter, however, still had a chance. The fall was bad enough to cause some bleeding and from the look at the bruises on her arms they were probably broken.

His deep voice broke me out of my slumber, “We examined the X-rays and there was some internal bleeding that had to be taken care of.” His nonchalance didn’t comfort me but had to do for the time being, her fate was in his hands. “It’s a good thing you made it here when you did, it could’ve been worse, a lot worse.” He had no idea what the worst was unless he witnessed what I saw in that bathroom.

“Is she gonna be okay, Doc?”
“I’m gonna be honest, emotionally she will need some counseling, but physically she’ll just need a little rest, in some time she’ll be fine. That was quite a site she saw in that house.”

“How’d you-------,”
You told us the whole story right before you passed out. Sometimes anxiety makes you forget things. The sheer exhaustion of what happened made your system shut down. What you need to be concerned with is making sure you handle your daughter with extreme care because her spirit is very delicate. One thing’s for sure; she had an angel watching over her.”

Thank you, Charmane.

 

If you’ve ever been to the Ivory Coast on the Western region of Africa, you’d know what I’m talking about when I speak of some of the rarest, most beautiful stones you’ve ever seen in your life. Rubies, Emeralds, Sapphires, even Opals are all discovered there. But nothing compares to the Black Diamond I saw with my own eyes.

I had the fortunate opportunity to travel across the Atlantic on business. I’m in the import-export business and rare stones are of particular interest to me. I purchase the uncut pieces and transport them back across the water (legally) and distribute them to various buyers, mostly jewelers.

Being an attractive, single, black female in this line of work can be extremely difficult because this is a male dominated industry. A lot of times men don’t take you seriously or worse yet, they try and take advantage of you, thinking about pleasure rather than closing a deal.

The advantage I have over some of the younger women in the corporate world is that for one, I’m in my early thirties and have pretty much seen all the different tactics men come with. Now don’t get me wrong, men can invent new rules to the game, however, they’re just variations of the original ones which have already been figured out. Secondly, I am well traveled, which means that I come across many different cultures of men. That alone will season you in the ways of the world.

I had the chance to finish up work early one Thursday afternoon, so I hurried back to my hotel room, threw on my forest green bikini, the one that accents my pecan brown complexion. I picked out a matching floral print sarong and wrapped it around my slender waist, grabbed an Eric Jerome Dickey novel, tossed it in my shoulder bag. I dashed towards the white sanded beach that posed as the backyard for the Marriott Resort.

When I reached the beach, I tried to make my way to a vacant area where I wouldn’t be bothered by the children making sand castles or those throwing Frisbees back and forth. The sun baked sand sifted through my sandals like a colander, setting my toes ablaze. There was a section with a row of wooden lawn-type chairs with coverings to block out the eastern sun.

I felt like I was doing the James Brown “Getting on the Good Foot” dance, the way that sand was burning my feet up. I can only imagine if I didn’t have this thin layer of leather I was walking on. I don’t know how these Africans do it; their feet must look like raw hide on the soles.

I laid my beach towel across the grated chair, relieve to finally rest my feet. The breeze was pleasant break from the scorching heat. I kind of like my skin tone but this type of heat will turn me into a raisin if I’m not careful.
I got comfortable, pulled out my book and fell off into Thieves Paradise’s chilling tale. Reading allows me to venture to a make believe place where all seems right. A few chapters of good reading can get you hooked like a junkie, feinding for the next page, eventually dreading the book ending before you know it.

“I see you enjoy Eric Jerome Dickey too?” The voice startled me so bad; I nearly had a heart attack.
“Huh…..What? Excuse me?” I must’ve been so consumed in reading I didn’t even see or hear anyone creep up on me. I’ve got to be more careful, I’m over here in this foreign country with strange folks, anything could happen. I’ve heard all of the stories about Native Africans not liking American Africans.

“Eric Jerome Dickey, I see you are reading one of his books. I’m sorry if I shook you a bit, I mean you no harm.” Now that I’ve finally gathered myself, I noticed the accent. He was a native and a very attractive one, too. In fact, I had to keep my self from staring, mostly because it might be a sign of disrespect in his culture.

I peeked over the top of my Clohe sunglasses to get a better look. His gleaming smile was the first thing that captured me. Those were the most perfect set of pearly whites I’ve seen since I used to go to the dentist when I was a little girl playing with the tooth model. The strange thing about him was that I always envisioned Native Africans to be a real deep dark chocolate complexion, but he wasn’t. His was more of a golden, bronze type tone depending on how the sun hit him, not depicting the average African man.

“Well, since you are so speechless, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Domi Selah. And yours?” I was still taken aback by his smooth tone. It wasn’t a deep baritone but striking enough to command attention.
“Kara Blackwell.” I managed confidently, removing my glasses, letting him get a view of my whole face.

“Kara.” he rolled the “R” like those Jamaicans do, making my name sound way more exotic than what it was. “I am so glad you have a tongue, I’d hate for a woman as beautiful as you not to be able to speak,” he smiled that smile which made me smile and chuckle little at his attempt at humor. “What do you do Kara Blackwell, if I may ask?” I can’t believe I’m about to engage in a conversation with this man. I barely know him from Adam. Before I could finish my thoughts, the words were already spilling from my lips.

“I’m here on business, I do trades, you know imports and exports.” I kept it brief, no need in exposing myself too much. Besides, the very thing I said I wasn’t going to do, I’m now doing.
“Hmm. That’s interesting.” He placed his hand upon his chiseled chin as if to ponder what I just said. “It sounds like exciting work, so you enjoy it?”
“It has its ups and downs, but for the most part, yes, I do. I have a chance to travel around the and make good money-------------,”
“And meet new people, I suppose, too?” There was that smile again.
“Yeah, meeting new acquaintances is always a plus.” I returned his smile with an equally bright one myself.

We went on and on, speaking about various topics from politics in our respective countries to male/female relationships. We even touched on the subject of concubines, an old African culture where the wealthy men are permitted to marry many women and have them work for them. He explained that it is an old custom but some still exist today.

The afternoon turned into early evening and as much as I was enjoying Domi’s company I still had to prepare for a long business day in the morning. I was scheduled to meet with the head Jewel distributor in this region with a proposed deal to secure millions for my company; of course, I would receive a healthy commission for my work.

We ended the evening with a gentle handshake that lasted longer than both of us expected. Somehow, saying goodbye, even temporarily, was a difficult chore.

“How about dinner tomorrow?” His touch was inviting and his invitation was hard to resist.
“We’ll see. I have a very busy day so we’ll just have to play it by ear.” He looked at me strangely.
“Play it by ear?” I forgot about the culture change.
“That’s means to be flexible, it’s very possible.” He still looked confused but then flashed his winning smile at me for reassurance.

“You know what Ms. Blackwell? I’ll take any time any time I can get with you.” His sincerity sent chills through my whole body. He had that look on his face that if I would’ve just seen him take some cookies from the cookie jar and he said he didn’t do it, I’d believe him. It was a look of innocence.
“Until tomorrow,” I said shyly, trying to retreat to my room before I became smitten by this specimen of a man.

“Until tomorrow,” he repeated, barely audible. He reached for my other hand and I surrendered it willfully. He didn’t speak, just held mine in his strong, masculine hands, rubbing his thumb across the smoothness of my skin. It was too late, I was way passed smitten, and the longer he held my hands I was heading dangerously close to no-woman’s land. I broke away with a smiling reluctance.
“Yeah….ah…. Until tomorrow.” I quickly turned and darted to my room. I had to collect myself and get my mind back to the mainland. A few minutes ago, I was way offshore with no rowboat.

“Get yourself together, Kara,” I scolded.
I went to my briefcase and pulled out the business plan I was presenting in the morning. I knew it was only a diversion, my thoughts were elsewhere. My mind kept drifting, wondering what he was doing for the rest of the night.  I wondered where he stayed; did he have a good job? Was he paid or was he a pauper, traveling around from beach to beach, picking up strange women? What was he doing at my hotels beach anyway?

My mind quickly became overtaken with thoughts Domi Selah. I felt myself falling off into a brief slumber, thinking about that God of a man that I had the pleasure of meeting. I pictured him leaning over me by that lawn chair, placing me on my stomach. He undid my bikini top, and then with his strong hands, he rubbed oil up and down the smooth skin on my back. With a massaging motion, he soothed my shoulders from any stress that lived there. He then made his way down my spine, caressing every inch until he reached the place where my skin and sarong met. He ran his fingers around the border of the silky material, my body welcomed every exploratory move he made.

Now I have a bit of a complex about the size of my backside. I always feel like everything that I eat goes right to my butt. It bypasses my stomach, slips passed my hips and heads straight for my cheeks. When I was a teenager I was always known as the girl with the “grown up booty”. Over the years I soon learned to dress around it. J-Lo doesn’t have anything on me and mine ain’t a booty job.

Domi sure didn’t have a problem with it. When he removed my covering, revealing my roundness, I could feel his hands increase their intensity. He went to kneading so sensuously you’d think he worked for the Hostess Bread Company. He slowed his pace a bit then changed to a feathery soft circular motion. I’ve never had my ass receive so much attention. The men I’ve had in the past all want to just pinch it, grab it, or spank it during encounters, never cherishing it as a sensitive part of my body.

Domi found a new way to get me open using soft touches. With my hips responding to what he was doing, my labia moistened with anticipation of what was next. Just as I was feeling his rhythm, a loud blaring sound broke me out of the trance I was in.

“Oh My God!” I hopped up, still wearing what I had on the evening before, “7 O’clock! I can’t believe I over slept.” My meeting wasn’t until 9am but you know women, we need time to get it together. I smacked the off button on the alarm clock then tan to the closet to pull out my business suit. Luckily, I keep it dry cleaned so no ironing was required.

When I removed my bikini bottoms to get into the shower, they were soiled with my juices.
“Look what you made me do.” I spoke to the imaginary Domi from my dream.
When the water hit me, I regained focus, getting my plans together in my head. I got dressed, grabbed my portfolio, hit the elevator, and cruised through the lobby all in an Olympians pace. Before I could reach the double doors at the entrance, the front desk clerk flagged me down.

“Excuse me, Ms. Blackwell, there was urgent message left for you.” she handed me am envelope with “Kara” written on it. I didn’t have time to open it then, so I threw it under my arm and whisked through the doors hailing down the nearest cab.

“To the Industrial District please,” I instructed.
“Yes ma’am,” he pleasantly replied.
I had some time now to calm myself down. I sure needed it; I didn’t need have an anxiety attack caused by alack of preparation. I took a few deep breaths, slowing my heart rate to a normal pace. The envelope fell from my armpit and hit the hard leather seat.

“Let’s see what’s so urgent.” I open the envelope and pour out the contents. There was a mixture of flower petals, white roses and white, purple and yellow orchids. A note was also enclosed and it read:
        
         It was truly my deepest pleasure meeting you Kara.
         I felt as if we could talk for hours on end. Good Luck
         On your business venture and I hope we can still get
         together for dinner. Until tomorrow, as you say, I’m
         playing it by ear.        
                                             Domi

That was just the type of encouragement I needed to take the edge off. I said a silent prayer and replaced all the flowers and the note back in the envelope as we arrived at the meeting site. It was 8:55am when I looked at my watch. “Right on time”. I tipped the driver then walked in a confident stride through the lobby doors.

The directory displayed the different levels of offices, the one my meeting was on the 7th floor.

“Mr. Selah, we need you to facilitate the overseas deal this morning, down on seven.”
“I mean no disrespect, but that is not where my expertise is at. My forte is advertising.” Domi reasoned as politely as possible.
“Even in advertising there is dealings with sales, you know that. Besides, we need your vast knowledge of the American culture.”

“This is an American account?” Domi inquired.
“Yes it is.” Domi looked defeated. He really didn’t feel comfortable doing business with Americans, especially in a field he wasn’t comfortable in. “There isn’t a problem is there, Domi?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I know you will be successful.”

The elevator chimed on the 7th floor and the butterflies immediately made a home in my belly. By the time I reached the conference room, I had to dry my moist palms on the hem of my skirt. I collected myself by doing my deep breath ritual, and then calmly turned the knob to either success or failure.

Much to my surprise, there weren’t a large number of executives in the room. I was expecting an intimidating amount of suits, as we call them back home, waiting to bombard me with figures and hardball negotiations. There were only three, two seated, with laptops and briefcases ajar; one was standing with his back facing me.

My entry obviously didn’t alert them to my presence so I cleared my throat a bit to get their attention, you know, taking the initiative.
“Excuse me; I’m Kara Blackwell representing the Exotica Incorporated.” I said in my most impressive professional voice.

“Yes. Ms Blackwell, we’ve been expecting you. Come in and have a seat. We are eager to hear what you have to say.” The cordial older gentleman motioned toward a vacant seat at the head of the large oval table. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, which was a little overwhelming. The other stayed glued to the paperwork he was perusing.

“Domi come.” the older commanded “Let’s get this under way.”
When our eyes met, I couldn’t find the words or emotions to fir the mood of the situation. What was he doing here? Was this some sort of cruel joke? He sent the message so he had to know I was who he was meeting this morning. What kind of games is he playing? Boy! You come halfway around the world to find that men play the same types of games.

“Domi!” the older man growled. “Greet the woman”.
“Ah……we……have …already been acquainted------,”
“Right.” I stepped in to save him, “We met by the elevators and exchanged hellos. I went to use the ladies room to freshen up before coming in.” I gave him a firm glare as if to say get yourself under control.
“Well then, since pleasantries have been made, shall we get started?”
“I’d like that,” I said confidently.

The meeting went on for a little over an hour. The proposal was received openly, the figures were haggled upon then ironed out to a happy medium, and in the end both parties acquired what they wanted without compromises.
Afterwards, as I was gathering my paperwork, Domi stepped to me with a congratulatory handshake. He pulled me in so he could whisper in my ear. “I need to talk to you when they leave.” He pulled away inconspicuously.
“Well, I want to thank you again, Ms. Blackwell. Your presentation was flawless, as is your beauty. I’m going to send a good word ahead to your associates back in the states.” We exchanged handshakes then he and the silent partner, who was truly silent throughout the meeting. My guess is that he didn’t speak a lick of English.

“I’m glad they’re gone. Now, can I talk to you?”
Things started settling down, my business was handled, just what could he have to say. I’m sure he could see my attitude. “Listen, Kara, I swear I didn’t anticipate us confronting each other like this.”

“Then how do you explain it?” I was at least open for an explanation.
“They forced me on this project. You see, I work upstairs, true enough, but I am in advertising, not sales. I didn’t know this was the deal you were speaking of yesterday; we didn’t go into any detail about it or anything. This was purely a coincidence, Kara, you have to believe Me.” he was on the verge of begging now, which was a quality in a man I could not stand. That’s the main reason I don’t own a Keith Sweat album, the brother does too much begging.

I believe that Domi was sincere when he says he didn’t know this was going to happen. I let what he said sink in and I softened my reply. “Domi, I believe you.” his face brightened, instantly, with that smile that made me melt all over. He sure dresses up well, too. His broad shoulders and well defined arms filled out his suit nicely. The olive color complemented his shiny bronze complexion.
“So, Kara, about dinner?” He was kind of apprehensive about asking me this time. “Are we still playing it by ear?”

I had t smile at his innocence. What did I do to receive him?
“I see I’m gonna have to teach you some more phrases to help you communicate with Americans better. You’re gonna need it if you continue to do business with us.”
“What about continuing things with you?” He was very serious with that statement. No traces of a smile.
“Why don’t we start with dinner, Ok?” I took his hand in mine, and then gently kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for, if I may ask?”
“The envelope and flowers you left for me, it was very sweet.”
“It was no problem for me to do something from the heart for someone special.”
We met for dinner later that evening at a restaurant of his choice. He introduced me to many different African cuisines. We talked for hours and really got a chance to know each other genuinely. I came to find out that his forwardness and innocence were attributed to his youth. Domi was five years my junior, so that allowed me to understand certain things about him. However, it also allowed me to appreciate the rare gem I accidentally discovered. Over time, he will become refined and turn out to be a valuable commodity for that special someone. I know one thing is for sure, I’d sure like to find out how that dream of mine ended. Maybe, I can package him up and smuggle him into to the states. Now, he would be one jewel I wouldn’t sell for all the money in the world.