I've made this blog to specifically capture all blog comments regarding this and to also help me get rid of all the post that build up on the blog once the story is complete.
Please feel free to post your comments here on this post and then if you're enjoying the story, please tell as many people as possible.
“You’re the fattest child I’ve ever had,” her mother sneered viciously with a cold cruel look in her plain brown eyes. “You really shouldn’t be eating that sausage, Sinclaire. Annelle is your twin and she isn’t even close to fat.”
As much as she tried not to let her mother’s cruel tongue bother her, it was really difficult. Shouldn’t Mel be happy that Sinclaire even came over to the house on Sunday afternoon for brunch? Sinclaire was the only child of Mel’s that actually made an effort to put up with her. One would think her mother would go out of her way to appease her daughter, but not Mel. Making people’s lives miserable seemed her mother’s forte.
Mel never seemed to let the fact that Annelle wanted to be as far away from her mother as possible bother her, nor made any effort to change the fact that she was the most evil woman this side of the Mississippi. She felt anything and everything in her life could be replaced.
Sinclaire also felt size fourteen was not fat. Even though she was only five foot four, she was just thick. Top heavy from Mamma Gerty side of the family and just a big boned young woman of twenty four.
“Mel, leave her alone,” Jackson, Mel’s newest beau urged. He looked almost like Shamar Moore without the facial hair. Being ten years younger than Mel, he was young looking with a nice build and the most handsome smile. He was an investment banker and he spent his days collecting money for businesses. At night, he spent all the money he made that day on her mother.
Sinclaire never deigned to call them boyfriends anymore because they came and went too fast. Not many could last Mel’s evilness and left eventually.
She wasn't sure how Mel had met Jackson, but this had been her longest beau yet and probably not her last. Her mother was just fourteen years her elder and tried to dress like she was still a teenager trying to look grown. Selfish and greedy, she never cared for anyone or anything unless it was benefiting her.
Including Sinclaire.
Mel was the most promiscuous woman Sinclaire had ever known. It wasn’t a night that Sinclaire had known her mother to have sex with a man. Any man would do and Mel didn’t care if it was the beau on hand or someone else.
When Mel left her to go to college, Sinclaire had been understanding. Mel had given birth to Sinclaire and Annelle when she was fourteen and Sinclaire had often been left with her father’s mother because her father was serving time in jail. For some reason from the time she was born, Mel found Sinclaire objectionable and kept her as far away from herself as possible.
Momma Gerty had been kind and gentle and filled Sinclaire with lots of sweets, which accounted for her full figure now - a daily battle with obesity because of her father’s side of the family, but satisfied with her thickness at one hundred and seventy pounds.
“Don’t ever think you ain’t the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth, Sinclaire. You are something because God don’t make no junk. Quit letting your mother take away your joy. You don’t need her to tell you you’re beautiful inside and out,” Momma Gerty would say to Sinclaire. Her words were wonderful after Sinclaire was forced to endure her mother’s company for any period of time – even over the phone. “You got something special about you - all her good qualities that she done forgot she had. The ones my boy was attracted to like a fool. People always try to destroy what they’re jealous of.”
Mel was a size one, supermodel body and face with a Lynn Whitfield type hairstyle. Not too over the top, but just enough bite in it to say she just got it done hours ago. She was one of those African American women that seem to grow even more beautiful as they aged and men were drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Sinclaire’s twin sister, Annelle was just like that as well, but she took work to make sure she stayed skinny. Her twin stayed on a permanent diet and was about to graduate from Michigan State with a degree in accounting. Annelle had taken her time at college, but Mel acted like this was her first daughter to graduate from college with a degree in account.
No one had acknowledged the fact that Sinclaire had received her MBA at accounting and was now going to law school, due to graduate in less than six months.
Mel was doing a big to-do party about Annelle’s graduation and was inviting everyone that was anyone to the party. She even sent invitations to Sinclaire’s other siblings, whom had not grown up with Sinclaire and Annelle.
“You’ll check on the order from the florist before going to work tomorrow morning, right Sin?” her mother said, not caring that her daughter had completely lost her appetite.
“Yes, Mel.” All her life, she had called her mother by the nickname because Mel had almost slapped her blind at five years old when they were in public and Sinclaire called her mother, “Momma.”
“Don’t you ever call me that you high yellow bastard!” Mel had sneered viciously.
Sinclaire only needed to be told once something and she never ever let it slip again.
“You might as well leave if you’re going to stare at your food like that,” Mel snipped.
Quickly, Sinclaire rose and left the table knowing her mother pretty much wanted her to leave. Jackson walked her to the door. He was only about five years Sinclaire’s elder, but with Sinclaire being twenty-four, that wasn’t much. Mel had her at a very young age when most girls weren’t even thinking about boys.
“I hate to say bad things about people, but your mother was a slut before she was out of diapers,” Grandma Gerty would sneer when Sinclaire came home crying from visiting her mother. “I shoulda listened to my friends when they were telling me bout how she had been feeling on boys since kindergarten. And now she goes ‘round saying my boy seduced her. He never saw it coming.”
“You okay,” Jackson asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sinclaire lied. “How have you put up with her for so long, Jackson?”
“I love her very much.”
She looked at him in disbelief because her own intuition felt something different. There was a need there for her mother in Jackson’s voice, but there wasn’t a warm feeling of love. But who could really love pure evil? “Really, Jackson? I find that so hard to do and I’m her daughter.”
He chuckled. “Let’s just say I helped her do some things and in return she’s going to help me do some things. We need each other.”
Toni Braxton started coming from the living room.
“Jackson, bring my robe and join me in,” Mel called.
Being educated to her mother’s ways, Sinclaire was old friends with the sound of Toni Braxton. Sometimes it was Luther Vandross or even Brian McNight. Their sultry sounds meant her mother wanted a lot of TLC. R. Kelly meant Mel wanted to dominant and Prince meant that there was going to be a lot of freaky things going on under the roof.
Sex to Mel was a drug. She needed it all the time and it was her only weakness.
Knowing that she was her mother’s daughter, sex was something that Sinclaire had told herself she would never allow herself to become addicted to. Sinclaire didn’t have her mother’s looks or confidence, but she was very aware that there were some inner traits that were like Mel’s. Like her ability to know when a man wanted her.
Right now, the way Jackson was looking over her fullness, Sinclaire knew he wanted something from her other than just to console her.
He said, as he helped her on with her coat, “I’d walk you to your car-“
“I’m really okay, Jackson. Go before she blames me for something again,” Sinclaire urged.
Tenderly, he kissed her forehead and wished her a goodnight.
She grabbed her purse and left knowing her mother’s eyes were glaring at her from a window. But Sinclaire didn’t turn around and wave goodbye. She had stopped doing that a long time ago – before she was a decade old.
“Why do you even come here?” she asked herself out loud, getting into her old red early ninety Honda Civic and driving off from the West Bloomfield Hills, Michigan six bedroom colonial home her mother lived in.
It was a silly question. She knew why she came faithfully all the time. She knew why she put up with all of Mel's evilness all the time. Sinclaire was a smart girl. She had been top five in her class in high school and college. She had scored the highest on the SAT's, and she had stayed in the top three at her present law school. The answer was more hurtful than she cared to know, but she couldn't help herself. Gaining Mel's approval meant more to Sinclaire than anything. As to why her mother never loved her or showed even a remote amount of motherly caring towards her was the biggest mystery to Sinclaire.
Maybe in her quest to earn her mother's respect she would find the out and then desire no more to gain anything from Mel.
Or maybe Sinclaire would forever be left in the dark, wanting, feeling alone with a sense of failure because she had never succeeded at gaining the love she had always desired from her mother.
It was early October and the wind had started to whip around, warning Michigan citizens to prepare for an odd winter. Michigan had funny weather lately. Some days it was hot, some days it was cold and some days it just couldn’t make up its mind.
Either way, if you lived in the state, you got a taste of all kinds of weather.
Sinclaire had gone to Illinois for college on an academic scholarship and come back to Detroit to work for a law firm as a paralegal until she was accepted into the University of Detroit Mercy Law School. It was in the heart of Downtown Detroit, so it was only comfortable to live inside the city.
She had been renting a small home on the city’s eastside, but after the third break-in while she was at school - the crooks were watching her home - Sinclaire decided to invest and buy a four family flat earlier in the year and was doing the repairs herself and maintaining a tight security system. To help get her some of the money while waiting on the grant to help repair the place, a friend from school got her a job at a popular boutique in Fairlane Mall called UniQuity, owned and managed by Michelle Coleman.
Of course, Mel wouldn’t step foot on the property in its disrepair and since Sinclaire’s apartment, which was in the basement because she made more money renting all four apartments than taking up space in one, she knew her mother would die before her feet ever touched her property line or graced her door.
Walking in her place, she checked to see if her tenants had left any messages. Ms. Emma Cornwall in apartment 2B needed new washers in her bathroom and Lena Jackson, single mother with three kids in a one bedroom apartment needed her window fixed before it got any colder outside. She even put in two hundred dollars, which was more than enough to fix the window and Sinclaire would give her whatever change was left.
Soon as Sinclaire placed her coat down, she frowned at the large wall mirror she was using to cover a hole that led from the washing room that she had yet to fix.
Staring back at the full face, flawless light coppery skin tone and light ochre eyes that were wide, but slightly slanted for an exotic look. Her hair color was a very dark brown with natural umber highlights usually brought out when she had too much sun in her hair or she was eating healthier, but lately this had never been the case. She kept it short right near her ears because it was easier to maitan.
Lots of studying and lack of appetite, mixed with depression caused her to not want to eat healthy at all.
Even after looking at her size fourteen, five foot four and a half height body at over one hundred and seventy pounds, didn’t deter her from heading to the small apartment size refrigerator and picking up her favorite Moosetrack ice cream - a favorite in Michigan. Grabbing a clean spoon - which was rare in her apartment - she plopped on the couch, pulled her schoolbook on her lap and started to read cases. When her eyes became tired, she searched around on the close by coffee table over her mess of school papers, notes and such to find her reading spectacles.
Even as she sat there deep in thought over her lessons, she felt the urges. They were coming more and more and no matter what she took nothing ever made them go away.
'I won't be like her!' she swore to herself and placed her book down. Going into the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and stared at the silver bag she kept there. To try to make it seem like she had a good excuse to go into the bathroom, she washed her hands. The scorching hot water was a painful distraction to what her body was feeling.
Yet soon that pain couldn't distract her from what she really craved.
Out loud she asked herself, "I thought you said after the last time you wouldn't do it anymore? You can fight this."
She closed the medicine cabinet and looked at herself in the mirror. When she couldn't stand the sight of herself anymore, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. 'No, you can't! You're too weak and she's too strong!' her mind said. 'It's apart of you and It's there, laying in the shadows, waiting for your weakest moment and then...'
Opening the cabinet, she took the bag out and sat on the edge of the tub. Opening up her robe, she was still only wearing after her shower, she spread her legs and avoided the temptation to touch herself. Using the closed toilet as a table, she opened the bag carefully as if someone was around and would come in if they heard the zipper make noise.
She took two baby wipes out. One she laid over the toilet as a covering. The other she wiped high inside of her left thigh. Her breathing was calm and it felt as if she were standing outside of herself watching her do this to her body.
Sinclaire hated pain and she denied she did this too herself, so pushing her conscious away made it easier for her to accept what she was doing.
And old mark that had healed weeks ago was there. She tossed the baby wipe away and picked up an alcohol swab from the silver bag.
Opening it up and then cleaned the area only centimeters away from the old scar. If she continued the scar would run all the way from her middle thigh to her the crack between her thigh and womanhood.
"Then what?'" she asked herself.
Picking up the sanitized blade, she pulled the wrapper from around it and then placed it down on her skin. 'You aren't strong enough.' Blood began to emit from under the blade from the cut she inflicted.
Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed harder feeling the sting and yes, the pain. Lots of it and the amount of alcohol didn't help. Throwing her head back as the pain worsened, Sinclaire wince and gritted her teeth together so no sound was heard.
Just was use to this in the quietness of her dorm room. She didn't want to wake her fellow students. No one could ever know she did this to herself. NO ONE!
Looking down at her new wound, she relaxed even more as the blood ran down her thigh and pooled down on the bathroom floor. It felt better. The urge had left her and she relished the pain in its place.
Laying the blade on the wipe, she used another alcohol swab to wipe up the blood on her thigh and wipe the wound. Carefully she applied first aid care to the wound and then placed a band aide over the fresh cut once the bleeding lessened.
She was back to her normal self. She could concentrate again.
By eleven at night, she dug around her kitchen to find a can of Ravioli and threw some shredded cheese on there. Even after that, she wanted something to snack on and found some stale nachos to chomp on before falling asleep on the couch.
At six am, she awoke, took a hot shower, scrimmaged for a bowl of cereal, grabbed her law books and bounced out the door.
On her way out, she bumped into Lena who looked as if she was just coming in with her waitress uniform on.
“How’s life at the IHOP?” she asked.
Lena smiled tiredly. “Smelly. Here take these.”
Sinclaire took the offered Styrofoam container filled with a hot breakfast.
“It’s not enough for all the kids and they’ll just fight over it,” Lena said.
“Thanks, get some rest and I’ll be up to fix that window after school,” Sinclaire promised and waved goodbye.
To Sinclaire, her life was simple and she preferred that. It wasn’t complex where a lot of friends and family hampered her ability. Other than her mother’s cruelness, Sinclaire rarely spoke with any of her other siblings and her father was obsolete.
As far as she knew, Gideon McGentry died in prison when Sinclaire was fourteen. Shortly after that, Momma Gerty, so depressed over Gideon getting shanked, died and Sinclaire spent her teenage years watching her mother take whatever money Momma Gerty left Sinclaire and spending it on herself or her current beau or on her other sister.
Yeah, life had been really depressing under Mel’s roof for her teenage years, but Sinclaire just kept telling herself Momma Gerty’s words from the Bible, “This too shall pass.”
There were a lot of times Sinclaire didn’t think that way, but once she was away from Mel, even though she was still ridicule for not being a model size or teased because she was smart, anything was better than being around her mother.
After school, she got two hours of studying done, before she headed to the hardware store to get what she needed, checked the order at the florist and then she headed to work for the afternoon shift.
Michelle was there at the store; freshly back from her honeymoon and looking radiant.
“Hey, Sinclaire!” Michelle said.
“Hi!”
Her manager was in the midst of removing the last dummie off the floor to be cleaned and redressed by the morning. “I’ve got to leave early tonight and I can’t find anyone to cover. I was wondering if you could close tonight. Just leave the drop in the safe, like before. I’ve authorized your card to open it.”
Sinclaire didn’t mind being left alone. “It’s not a problem.”
“Good,” Michelle said looking relieved. “I really didn’t want to have to close up the shop early and I really hadn’t expected this show to be scheduled like this. I could always ask my husband-“
“That’s okay,” she said cutting her off. “He gives me the creeps.”
Michelle giggled. “He just feels uncomfortable about being around women’s clothing all the time.”
“Most men do.”
They laughed together. Michelle was a pretty dark skinned woman, a little bit older than Sinclaire. She had borrowed a lot of money from a rich friend to open up the shop and just worked like a slave making sure everything was perfect.
She was a cool understanding boss and if her employees did well, she rewarded them aplenty.
Sinclaire was trying to get enough cool points to afford the beautiful three-piece pants suit that just happened to be in her size, but cost seven hundred dollars. It wouldn’t go out on the floor until Thanksgiving, but Sinclaire had dreams about wearing the suit to court or just wearing it.
“Call me if you need anything,” Michelle said, handing Sinclaire the spare keys to the shop.
“I won’t need anything. It’s Monday and since it’s close to Halloween, everyone’s out shopping around for a costume.”
Michelle sighed tiredly. “Speaking of special days, would you be able to come in on Thanksgiving Holiday to set up in the afternoon for Black Friday? I’ll order the best Honey Baked Ham you ever tasted.”
When food was involved, Sinclaire couldn’t resist. “Sure, Michelle.”
“Thanks again, Sinclaire.”
As the night progressed, Sinclaire was able to get the store ready to close by 7:30pm, even though the mall didn’t close until 9pm. While she waited for a customer to come in she would sneak her books out behind the counter and read, but jump up as soon as she heard someone enter.
She became so immersed in one case; she didn’t hear the customer come in until he was clearing his voice above her. She gasped startled and dropped the book on her toe.
“Oww!” she hissed.
“Did I surprise you?” he asked.
Sinclaire dipped to get her book, not even looking at the customer and rub her toe. “Umm, I’ll be with you in a sec,” she said, putting the book on the counter and putting her shoes back on. Facing him, she was surprised to look up into a very beautiful set of olive green eyes and the most perfect smile she could ever imagine on a man. He looked about his middle thirties; natural tan skin and looking like Clive Owens, with beautiful eyes. He was dressed in a very professional tailor made brown suit, which brought out the darkness in his eyes. Standing at six feet exactly, he looked down at her rather confused and frustrated and she felt all of a sudden bad for making him wait like that.
She was struck speechless that a man of his caliber was in the store, but then determined that he was probably there to buy something for his skinny little girlfriend.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The words had popped out her mouth rather harsh, but she wasn’t about to apologize.
He didn’t seem bothered by her tone. “I need to buy some items for a young lady about a size six, I believe,” he said under his breath as if there were a room full of people trying to listen to them.
Coming around the counter, she composed herself to gather her animosity for this rich ass Sugar Daddy’s spoiling his mistresses. ‘That’s his business,’ she said to herself. Quickly she checked his ring finger and saw it was empty and there was no mark on it. There was no mistaken that he was cute, albeit he was white, but she wasn’t going to flirt with a man buying clothes for another woman. That’s just sick.
‘Why do you want to flirt at all?’ her mind fussed. ‘We don’t need them. We have a law degree to obtain!’
Didn’t matter because he was still a fool to spend his money on a woman he didn’t sound like he wanted to marry.
“We just got in a new line of dresses from New York I think she’ll like,” she said plastering a fake smile on her face.
“I wasn’t looking for dresses,” he said.
She turned to him frowning. “What were you looking for?”
He stepped up uncomfortably close to her. “Bras. She needs girlie bras.” He looked really embarrassed.
“What size is she again?”
“Size six.”
Sinclaire forced herself not to laugh because he didn’t understand her. “No, I meant what size is her chest. Her bra size.”
He blushed and looked even more handsome. “I-I couldn’t even tell you. She’s just seventeen going on eighteen.”
Oh gawd! A pedophile?! Maybe she should call the police on him. Just in case she needed to make a report on how he looked, Sinclaire took a really good look at him while she led him over to their lingerie section with her peripheral vision.
He was exactly six feet two, broad shoulders and a thickness about him that she couldn’t tell was fat or muscle. No facial hair and looking freshly groomed, she could tell his hands even looked manicured. A clean psycho? What a good oxymoron.
Still good looking. Now even better on the second glance.
How many kids did he really get with that gorgeous white smile, from those thick lips? Were they as soft as they looked?
‘Stop that! He’s a pervert, Sinclaire!’ she scolded herself and continued with her observation.
There was no dunlap around the belt around, but his long coat didn’t help her really assessed his true body dimensions. Very well dressed now that she noticed and he smelled of amber, oak and … something unique that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she wasn’t going to turn around and bury her nose in his neck to find out what was that scent. Plus that would mean she would have to stand on her tiptoes to even get to his neck.
She remembered Momma Gerty had a box of scents and often had the house filled with scents. The old woman believed the different scents provided health benefits for her ailments and it worked for a while to make Momma Gerty happy, but then the pain became too much and nothing, not even the morphine made it stop.
“Do they have to look so …” He was lost for words as he looked over the selection.
“You said you wanted girlie,” she snipped.
He shot her a cautious tone picking up her harshness. “Are you having a bad night?” he questioned.
“No, are you?”
“Actually, I am. My daughter didn’t like the selection my assistant picked out and I never saw her so angry with me before. She accused me of buying granny underwear.” He frowned very bothered. “She’s never made a big thing about underwear before. Are all women like this?”
Sinclaire looked at him in disbelief. “You’re getting underwear for your daughter?”
“Yes.”
Looking relieved, she said, “That’s good.”
He raised a brow.
“I-I mean, I wasn’t interested in you like that. I thought you were a pervert,” she blurted out and then gasped in embarrassment.
He frowned disturbed. “I’d much rather you were interested in me.”
She wanted to die in embarrassment, as it suddenly felt really hot in there. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“It explains your attitude,” he said smirking.
Changing the subject, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know her cup size, would you, sir?”
“Please call me Mr. Bowman, and no. I don’t go around looking at my daughter’s breast.” He flushed in his own embarrassment. “But I cannot go home until I get something.”
Wanting to help, she looked around the store to see if there was anything to help him with. All the dummies had been taken off the floor to be cleaned and they were the only ones in the store. “Is she well developed?”
“What’s well developed for a seventeen year old?”
This was more difficult that she thought and with no model around, she only had one solution. “Y-You could look at mine and compare.”
“Now?”
Feeling really self-conscious, she almost crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, now, through my clothes. Unless you’ve seen her breast naked?” she asked sarcastically.
“No!” he said disgustedly.
“So in order to do this right, you’re going to have to tell me her measurements.”
“I don’t know her measurements.”
“Well, compared to me, how small is she?”
His blushes were making him more and more adorable. “I’d have to… hug you to know that.”
This didn’t sound as bad as it seemed. “Okay.”
He took off his coat and she knew positively he didn’t have an inch of fat on his body! “Ready?” he asked as if preparing for battle as he laid his coat over a clothing rack.
She just hoped no one came in the store and embarrassed them both. “Sure.”
Stepping to her, he confidently moved his arms around her waist and looked down at her. “You’re shorter than she is,” he noted.
Nervously she rested her hands on his thick arms and hoped he didn’t notice her nipples had hardened. He smelled even better up close and it took all her will power not to bury her face in his chest. “Her bra size has nothing to do with my height, Mr. Bowman.” It was so difficult to make eye contact. He was too close and her body was quickly reacting to his proximity. ‘Don’t you dare move your hips!’ her mind screamed at her body.
“You’re going to have to put your arms around my neck then,” he said.
Yes, her hands were shaking as she rose up on her tiptoes to move her arms around his neck.
“What was that?” he asked.
‘Oh gawd! You did not just whimper!’ She wanted to die in shame. “N-Nothing. Is this helping you?”
He pursed his lips together and she gasped as he held her tighter. “You’re a lot fuller than she is. A whole lot.”
Was he making fun of her size? “I’m a grown woman,” she said stiffly.
“Really?” His arms tightened around her unusual lean waist that accentuated her full hourglass figure. “How old?”
“Twenty-four, but this has nothing to do with your daughter.”
He chuckled, drawing her close and for some reason his face seemed closer to hers. “I know, but that pervert remark just irked me more than I thought.”
“I-I’m sorry, sir, truly,” she said remorsefully, relaxing in his arms.
“Then you shouldn’t mind accommodating me.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she agreed, but probably because of the heady smell that was hypnotizing her into whatever submission he requested.
“So how thick are you?”
She knew she was blushing so bad. “I’m a thirty-two double D-Cup.”
“What are the cup sizes between?”
It took all her effort not the make her voice quiver.
Those deep olive green eyes of his looked down at her chest and she knew she had died and the quickening of her heart was making her stay conscious. “No, she’s smaller. About a thirty-two … and I’d say just an C.”
“Good. Then we can find something she would like,” she said with relief knowing he was going to let her go soon so she wouldn’t embarrass herself anymore.
He didn’t release her.
Did he enjoy this as much as she?
“Mr. Bowman, you can let me go now.”
“Oh yes,” he said, abruptly releasing her and turned away slightly to put his coat on. She heard him clear his throat, but that was about it as she too straightened herself and gained her composure.
“I could pick them out for you,” Sinclaire suggested as he turned back around to her.
“Sure,” he said staring at her as if he knew a secret, but didn’t want to tell.
She turned her back to him as she picked out several bras. For some reason she could feel the heat of his beautiful eye on the small of her back and rounding down to her behind. She tried not to be embarrassed that the man casually seemed to take his time perusing her body from behind.
Sinclaire’s eyes happened to look down at her own chest and she gasped realized that her nipples had gotten so hard that they were poking out from her shirt. That’s what he had been looking at mischievously.
‘Go down! Go down!’ she ordered to herself terrified to turn around and taking overly long to find the items he needed. This was the most embarrassing moment of her entire life.
He’d moved closer. She didn’t have to turn around to know. The pleasurable scent of him increased and almost made her blind in distraction. Her nipples almost hurt as they were stretched even more from their own arousal. Her hands itched to touch her own chest to rub the swelling tips. ‘What is wrong with you?! He is just a man!’
Men came in the store off and on - All kinds to buy gifts for their wives, girlfriends and yes, daughters sometimes. For the wealthy customers, Michelle often kept an account and held private showings that even husbands arranged.
It wasn’t as if this man intimidated her. Nor was she in fear of her safety because he looked wealthy enough to buy half the store if he wanted to.
His deep voice vibrated her eardrum, startling her slightly, as he asked, “How long have you worked here?”
Quickly she answered, hoping it wouldn’t prompt him for more questions. “Not long.”
“You’re kind of old to be working in a boutique. Are you a manager?”
“No.” She turned to him with the bras clutched to her chest; feeling very insecure all over and hoping those green eyes of his didn’t have x-ray vision.
Sinclaire had been right about him looking over her body because he hadn’t expected her to turn suddenly. His eyes had to rise from her mid-section to meet her eyes, but he took his time to do this clearly visually caressing the front of her. At first she could barely catch her breath. “T-These should be sufficient looking for the both of you. How many did you need?”
“As many any seventeen year old would desire,” he said.
“Well in that case, I would suggest you get them all and matching underwear as well.”
His phone started to ring and he looked at the display. He seemed uneasy about the call, but he answered it quickly telling the person to hold on for a moment. To Sinclaire, he asked, “How much for just the bras?”
She looked over the pile as assessed the price. “After tax about four hundred.”
He didn’t flinch as he took out his wallet and handed her a gold credit card. “Do whatever damage you want, I trust you.” He winked and started talking on his phone, while walking out the store.
What a lucky daughter!
Sinclaire, who had never had contact with her own father, had always wished if she had a good father, he would do something like this. With care and attention, she picked out things she just knew any eighteen years old would love.
By the time he returned, she was just ringing up the total to about seven hundred dollars. He looked over her selection and nodded satisfied.
“Can you wrap these up and have them delivered to an address?” he asked, looking through his pocket for something.
“Yes, but they can’t be delivered until the morning.”
“Will you be taking care of it tomorrow morning?”
“No, I won’t work tomorrow morning, Mr. Bowman. I only work the afternoon shifts during the week, but the owner will make sure all deliveries are taken care of and you don’t have to worry,” she assured him liking that they were back to business. It was almost easy to ignore that he was a fine ass man, when they spoke business.
“That’s fine, because I don’t have the address on where they need to be delivered to on me. Can my assistant call back later on tonight or tomorrow to give that address?”
She gave him directions on how to facilitate a delivery and then handed him his credit card and receipt after she finished processing his payment. This gave him time to look over the counter at what she had been studying.
“You’re going to law school?”
“Yes,” she said.
He looked impressed. “Did you just start?”
“No, I’m almost done,” she said quite proud of herself.
“You’re young to be getting out so early?”
“I was accepted into law school while I was getting my MBA and I did both actually but then I had to take a semester break to focus on getting my masters.” Since her joy was school it was so easy to speak to him about it. “But as soon as I was done, I jumped right back in doubling my class load so I can take the bar in six months.”
“And here I thought you were just wasting your life away. Taking up useless space like most women your age waiting for a man to pay for everything.”
“Well, I don’t mind a man paying for everything,” she teased. “And seeing that I thought you were a pervert, I can’t take offense.”
The smile he graced those beautiful lips with took her breath away. Did he know how gorgeous he was?
‘Of course he did,’ she resolved to herself. ‘And no, he would not go for your chubby ass.’
“Nice comeback, ma’am,” he acknowledged.
With the counter between them, her confidence level was high. “It’s Sinclaire,” she corrected him. “My mother’s a ma’am.”
“Of course,” he stood corrected. “So what does a man have to do to take you out to dinner, Sinclaire?”
Her head was spinning seriously and she didn’t think she could breath in enough air to cover the massive overload requested suddenly.
Gripping the front of her shirt whether in excitement or exasperation, she forced her breathing steady so she wouldn’t stutter when she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said, just knowing she heard him wrong. “W-What did you say?”
“I want to take you out for dinner?”
Her head was spinning seriously and she didn’t think she could breath in enough air to cover the massive overload requested suddenly.
Gripping the front of her shirt whether in excitement or exasperation, she forced her breathing steady so she wouldn’t stutter when she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said, just knowing she heard him wrong. “W-What did you say?”
“I want to take you out for dinner?”
“I can’t date customers,” she said obviously. It wasn’t a law. Michelle had never said this, but Sinclaire wasn’t a fool. ‘You don’t shit where you eat,’ Momma Gerty said.
“Is it a policy?” he asked suspiciously not liking her negative answer.
‘Maybe this was some cruel joke and he needed a charity to support. You’re big enough’ The last was said sounding very much like Mel.
Sinclaire was not going to be his monthly charity case. Was this how a busy man got ass? Take an ugly chick out just to get some? ‘Ain’t nothing a light switch can’t fix!’ Momma Gerty’s voice shouted in Sinclaire’s head. But at the time the old lady wasn’t talking about Sinclaire’s face. She was actually referring to Mel who’d do anyone with enough money.
It wasn’t in her nature to lie just to avoid something. “No, it’s not policy, but I just don’t date customers.”
“I don’t date people who work in retail stores, but I do date very beautiful smart women.”
‘Don’t you dare let him see you affected!’ She bit her lip to fight the blush. “Mr. Bowman-“
He leaned on the counter and gave her a very serious look to make her stop speaking. “Before you find reason to reject me, let me say that I don’t like the word no when it’s something I really want and I want the pleasurable company of dining with you, Sinclaire. I find you refreshing and different and I feel now that I’m overwhelmingly impressed by the fact that you do possess intelligence – although your common sense was just fascinating in itself. I can’t allow this to be the only experience that I see myself talking to you in my entire life. So I would like you to please reconsider the offer, think about it and then call me with your answer.” He handed her his business card.
Hesitantly, she took the card, still looking warily at him as if he were going to snatch it back and scream, “Syke!” and then a hundred cameras would come out of no where and some one would yell, “Sinclaire McGentry, you just got punked.”
But no one came out as she took the card and looked at it to see his name: Dwight Bowman, Esquire, CFO of Bowman and Bellini Investments.
“How long should I think about it before I call you and still tell you no?” she asked.
“A day or so or until you want it to be yes,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
She rolled her eyes as if this was still some type of sick joke. “I’ll think about it,” she promised.
“That’s all I can ask.” His phone rung and he again frowned at the screen. “I have to take this call, but I’ll be hearing from you soon.”
It wasn’t a question or a request and Sinclaire watched the back of him until he was out of sight.
Slumping in the chair looking down at the business card, she felt conflicted, confused and very frustrated. On one hand she wanted to call him, but on the other hand, she seriously wondered what had she done to deserve someone like him.
Going around the counter, she looked at herself in a nearby mirror trying to see if there was something different about herself. Michelle always required them to look professional in dress when working, but tonight was no different than any other night on what she was wearing.
On top of that, she had the ugly reading glasses still on!
‘Maybe those gorgeous eyes of his was blind,’ she said to herself.
No, his eye contact was too direct. He had been looking at her! Directly at her! All over!!
Her body still felt hot just thinking of that lustful look that was in his eyes.
‘This was crazy,’ she told herself and began closing procedures to keep her mind off Dwight Bowman.
Soon it was time for the store to close and she went through the motions of doing everything she needed to do in order to get everything done.
Nothing out the ordinary happened the rest of the night and when she wasn’t thinking of the store closing procedures, she forced herself to think about her cases. There was a lot to remember and the forcing helped her to remember with key words.
On the way out, she passed by the main department store and could smell a familiar scent. Stopping immediately, she looked inside the doorway to see the cologne counter. The guard was standing by the door so she knew she couldn’t just step into it.
“Sinclaire!” she heard her name being called.
Looking through the gate that had been pulled down, Lena was running to the gate. They were about the same body type except Lena had dark caramel skin and shoulder length hair, which she usually kept a wig on or in a ponytail. Being a single mother struggling never gave her the luxury of going to the hair dresser all the time.
“Hi!” Sinclaire said unexpectedly.
“I’m so glad you stopped by here,” Lena said relieved. “I need a ride to my other job. Someone didn’t show up for their shift and I had to stay to keep my department opened.”
Sinclaire’s eyes traveled over to the counter because the scent was clearly bothering her. Lena followed her gaze.
“Want to come in?” Lena asked concerned.
“Uh… no, I was…”
Lena motioned to the guard to raise the security gate. “If you take me home, you can walk out with me and be real close to where you park.”
“Sure, Lena,” Sinclaire agreed. “That’s no problem.” “Good.” Lena ushered her in and Sinclaire found herself stopping over at the cologne’s unable to stop smelling that scent.
“Is there something you’re looking for Sinclaire?” Lena asked becoming worried.
Picking up several scents, she found the familiar scent that he had on. “What’s this?”
Lena looked at the area she had picked up the bottle. “That’s Versace Man,” she answered leaning over and smelling it with Sinclaire.
“It smells wonderful.” It was the cologne Dwight had been wearing.
“It better for fifty dollars an ounce.”
Sinclaire almost dropped the bottle. When she put it back down, she asked, “When did you start working here?”
Lena was still chuckling from Sinclaire’s shocked expression at the cost of the perfume bottles. “After they cut down the bus service, I couldn’t do my other afternoon job and be on time to my night job at the casino. I missed the last bus to get my to my job, can you take me downtown?”
“Sure.”
Lena looked very grateful. “I’ll give you gas money.”
“It’s not a problem.”
They got in the car and she started driving toward Downtown Detroit.
“You know I meet a lot of eligible men at the casino.”
Before Lena could finish that sentence, Sinclaire firmly said, “No!” she said firmly.
“You know, you keep to yourself too much, Sin, and the fact that you haven’t had any kids is a hindrance.”
Sinclaire glanced at her and then back at the road. “Hindrance? That’s a pretty big word for a high school drop out, Lena.”
“I won’t let you try to dissuade me with your smart mouth, Sin. You need a man and the times are changing. They look at sistah’s now in wariness if you don’t have kids by your age.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“You sure?”
“Lena, I’m less than six months away from taking the bar and I won’t let a man get in the way of that.”
“Then what? You’ll be this successful lawyer with no time for any man and then you’ll wake up one day and say, oh dear, I just wished I had listened to Lena.”
“If that ever happens, I’ll call you up and adopt one of yours. You’re always trying to sell me one.”
Lena smiled wickedly. “You know I still got that special, buy one, get one free.”
They burst out in laughter. Lena could always make her laugh.
After dropping Lena off, Sinclaire headed home. Before going downstairs, she checked the property and saw that someone had left a post it note in the box about renting the downstairs apartment She yawned before she opened the door to her place. After taking a shower, she went to the couch again, dragged her schoolbag on her lap, took out all her books and then began to study once again until she fell asleep.
Read the update to this book: http://lulu.com/sylviahubbard
Sinclaire wants simplicity in her life. In order to prove her self worth to her ungrateful and evil mother, she is studying for the bar and in no way does she want any one or anything to get in the way of her goal. That is until Christopher Bowman steps into her life and wants to very much get to know the plain Sinclaire. Despite what she wants to prove to her mother, Sinclaire can’t help her attraction to the wealthy powerful gorgeous Christopher and gives in to her heart. Yet, sins of the past are destined to tear them apart or kill them in the process of being revealed.
Read more...© Blogger templates Newspaper II by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008
Back to TOP
