White Male Page 5

  When she spotted me she let out a long wolf whistle.

  "Mama, you look hot!" She exclaimed loudly.

  I just laughed and thanked her.

  "I'm not changing. Just freshening up, is that okay?"

  "Sure, Betty," I responded. She was in a business suit and low heeled shoes, which were quite adequate for a short mixer.

  I made my way downstairs to the basement to leave my luggage in the car for a quick escape later. I emerged from my building and crossed the street to the hotel, with my clutch in one hand while I texted Gerry:

  “Two minutes away.”

  Chapter Six

  Gerry was already in the hotel, pacing in the lobby. He was wearing the purple tie.

  "Hey Gerry,” I said as I approached, taking in his smart appearance. He looked relieved and rushed over, giving me a quick hug.

  "I thought you were wearing the gray tie?" I asked.

  "Oh, err… somebody else said the purple tie will make me more visible," he answered slightly embarrassed.

  He looked great; I didn't sweat the small stuff. I didn't care, really. We made our way to the third floor cocktail room. I was please to see I was the first one there from Strauss Carter, besides Events who were monitoring waiters’ and servers’ trays. A Food and Beverage Assistant Manager had been assigned by the hotel and after checking the final results of their preparations, I just knew it would be a great evening.

  By 5.00pm, most of our company personnel had arrived, except Mr. Carter. I was wondering if I’d get to meet his latest girlfriend tonight. A tinge of jealousy slithered through me at the thought that he might have a girlfriend and had simply used me for sex. Bringing my thoughts back to the present, I said hello to my colleagues’ spouses and partners, both unfamiliar and known. Everyone knew to hold back on the snacks and alcoholic cocktails until our guests had arrived. We didn't want them to arrive to a drunken party and feed them leftovers.

  Our First Banking Trust guests began to arrive by 5.30pm, having traveled through Midtown to Downtown in traffic. I was hovering at the door, ready to usher them through and made sure everyone's name tag was visible as I made introductions. Our clients happily mingled and began trying the snacks and cocktails that’d been prepared. Gerry was being a very good date, staying close by my side and making intelligent conversation with me and one of First Banking Trust's top executives.

  I was facing the double-door entrance as Gerry began talking about futures markets, holding our client, Mr. Randall’s attention. I looked up and saw Mr. Carter enter the room; his appearance prompting an instant flutter in my heart.

  He was dressed in the same slim-fit, well cut, dark gray suit, crisp white shirt and gray tie. He was looking suave and hot as hell; his expression grim and serious. He was leading a tall, attractive woman around age 25. She was probably a fashion model and looked very beautiful, except for the sulky look on her face.

  I watched as he kept his hand on her lower back, while she pranced into the room holding a jeweled clutch with both hands. She was in a skin-tone colored, nude, sheath dress and nude heels to match. Her short, blonde hair was slicked back with a wet look style. She had nude makeup and lipstick, enhanced dramatically with her dark eye makeup. Her green eyes were her best feature; she was simply stunning. I could see her bones in her neck were prominent from years of food deprivation. Her chest was artificially enhanced with an obvious D cup and her body was long, lean and straight. In every way, she was the total opposite of me, with my brown skin, curvaceous booty and natural C cup.

  The two of them made a phenomenal couple and many heads around the room turned to stare. Mr. Carter remained by the entrance, looking around the room as if searching for somebody, his expression irritated.

  I excused myself for a moment and approached them. Mr. Carter looked at me; his eyes sweeping up and down my body for a moment and something I couldn't ascertain passed through his features and was gone before I could identify it. In its place, an unreadable mask had slipped into place and his serious expression morphed into a tight smile.

  "’Evening, Mr. Carter," I said, smiling towards his date who returned a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I noticed Mr. Carter glance towards her and something passed between them; a fight was going on perhaps?

  "Hi Lena, this is Isabella. Isabella, Lena."

  I smiled at her again. The way she held her clutch showed she did not want her hand shaken.

  "Pleased to meet you, Isabella," I said smiling politely.

  "Likewise." She answered, her accent sounding foreign.

  We walked together towards Mr. Randall, the CFO of First Banking Trust. They shook hands and exchanged partner introductions and pleasantries. Gerry came and stood beside me politely, with his hand lightly resting on my lower back while Isabella was having an awkward conversation with Mrs. Randall, a well-groomed lady in her late forties who was botoxed to the hilt.

  "I am a model. I am from Czech Republic,” she said to Mrs. Randall who nodded and smiled politely. Her manner of speaking was very pronounced, as though she’d just learnt only those words in English. Mrs. Randall, a Southern belle, very graciously smiled and chatted with her. We waited for Mr. Carter to finish making small talk so I could take him to the other First Banking Trust guests who were scattered around the room. As their conversation was winding down, Mr. Carter noticed Gerry by my side and glanced towards us.

  "Lena, how rude of me," he said apologetically, talking directly to Gerry with his outstretched hand towards him, "we haven't been introduced."

  I quickly interjected.

  "Mr. Carter, this is Gerry from our Finance department downstairs. We used to work together before I transferred to Business Development."

  He obviously hadn’t recognized Gerry or possibly pretended not to. Gerry's hand dropped from my lower back and took Mr. Carter's outstretched hand in a firm grip. I could tell Mr. Carter was giving him a firmer handshake than necessary, making constant eye contact with him, with his head lowered; making Gerry appear much shorter.

  "So you work for us?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  "Yes sir," Gerry responded smiling, then was silent waiting for a cue. He’d been confident all evening but Mr. Carter had a way of putting people off balance and that uncomfortable handshake had taken effect.

  "Great to see you putting in overtime," he said before raising his head to look around the room, effectively dismissing Gerry. I couldn’t believe he was being so rude while we were entertaining guests. Gerry gave me a questioning glance and I shrugged.

  I spotted Mr. Baker talking to the Chief of Operations from First Banking Trust and led Mr. Carter towards them. He didn't ask Isabella to come with him and I watched as she wandered off to get her own drink from the bar.

  After introductions to the Chief of Operations and his partner, I slipped away and let them talk. Gerry and I went towards our secretaries who were huddled with theirs, chatting about the weekend and what they were looking forward to. We joined in with them and chatted away, sharing a laugh. I left Gerry with them and walked around more, ensuring everyone had a drink or snack and making sure everybody was being included in conversation.

  Mr. Carter was now speaking to the top three senior executives from First Banking Trust and they were listening to him with rapt interest. They knew he was the next CEO of Strauss Carter, and were impressed with how he’d transformed the company within the last five years.

  When 7.00pm was fast approaching, a couple of our most senior guests began to make their apologies to leave. I thanked them and their partners individually before they made their way to the exit. Their more junior employees were still having a good time with our colleagues and laughter was becoming louder as the cocktails began to take effect; we encouraged them to stay longer since we still had the place until 8pm.

  I checked across the room and Mr. Carter was engrossed in a deep discussion with Mr. Baker and a First Banking Trust executive, while Isabella was standing off to the side, drinking a glass
of wine and looking very bored and beautiful. I took a moment to slip out onto the balcony, closing the sliding doors behind me. The evening heat hit me as I inhaled the warm air of Atlanta. Gerry followed behind me.

  "Hey Lena," he called out shutting the doors behind him as I’d done.

  "Looks like I might head out. You did good tonight."

  We high-fived over that.

  "Thank you Gerry; you were an amazing date," I told him genuinely.

  "Anytime," he said, leaning in to hug me goodbye.

  He put his arms around my waist for a quick hug and kissed me on the cheek.

  Just then, I heard the sliding doors opening.

  "Miss Williams."

  Gerry let go of me and we both looked up to see who had called me. It was Mr. Carter.

  He walked slowly towards us on the balcony, his face an impenetrable mask as usual. An awful flutter of butterflies began in my stomach and I tried to ignore it.

  "Gerry, if you will excuse us," he said with his gaze fixed on me.

  "Sure, Sir," began Gerry. "I'm heading out now, but it was great to finally meet you, sir."

  Gerry held out his hand to Mr. Carter. Mr. Carter kept his right hand firmly in his pocket, paying no attention to him.

  "Bye, Jeremy," he said, not taking his eyes off me.

  “Umm, it’s Gerald, sir,” Gerry corrected politely.

  “Whatever,” Mr. Carter replied dismissively with his back to him.

  "Umm, bye," Gerry replied glancing at me nervously. He walked off briskly and closed the sliding doors left open by Mr. Carter, shutting out the sounds and murmurs of the people inside.

  I couldn't believe how rude Mr. Carter had been to Gerry tonight. What the hell was his problem? I could feel my temper on its way.

  "What were you two doing?" he snapped.

  "We weren't doing anything," I responded, shocked he would ask. My temper had arrived.

  "And if we were doing anything, that would be nobody's business," I snapped back.

  "Everything you do while representing this company is my business," he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger.

  This guy must not know 'bout me, I thought to myself.

  "Yessuh, Massa Carter," I began, walking closer to him.

  "I apologize, Sire. I’d forgotten the Master does not like his field hands talking to his bed wench." I got up in his face indignantly to emphasize that last word.

  He looked at me, eyes flashing with a mixture of rage and frustration.

  "Do you think saying ridiculous statements to me will change anything?"

  Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and hauled me to a dark corner of the balcony. He pressed me up against the wall, raising both my hands above my head. He pinned them with one of his, and grabbed my ass with the other, pulling me up against his body. I could feel his large erection pulsating through the layers of fabric between us. He lowered his head to look me right in the eye. I let him see my defiance in return, refusing to break eye contact in defeat. As he held my gaze, I felt my defiance slowly melting, inexplicably turning into lust.

  Without warning, he lowered his head, placing his lips firmly on mine kissing me with a soft, seductive kiss. I was determined not to return the kiss. I wasn’t about to roll over again. He continued kissing me, coaxing and teasing my lips with his, until I surrendered and began to give in, fervently kissing him back. His lips were soft and probing, seducing mine with little promises he couldn't verbalize. I felt my core heating with arousal and my panties dampening as he intensified the kiss, keeping me firmly pressed against his body. An uncontrollable moan escaped from my throat and brought me to my senses. What was I doing? I'm kissing Mr. Carter and he has a date? I'm not a home wrecker. I pulled back, turning my face to the side. He released me but kept me caged with his hands on the wall, on either side of my face.

  "Lena," he began, looking directly at me, taking a deep breath.

  "I know you hate me for what I did to you on Monday. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel any regret."

  "Mr. Carter ..."

  "Jonathan," he corrected.

  Huh?

  "I didn't regret it, Jonathan. I'm just sorry it happened that way and in those circumstances."

  When I had my encounter with him, I had to admit it was the best sex I’d ever had in my life. The man knew how to lick and fuck and his huge dick was a nice surprise; but it’d been inappropriate.

  "I got your message yesterday, apologizing,” he said clearly astounded. "Lena, why would you apologize for that?” His gaze was questioning.

  “I'm not sorry at all, Lena. That night was incredible,” he spoke adamantly as he brushed the tips of his fingers on my cheek.

  “But I hit you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry about that.”

  He smiled. “I have to admit, that was quite kinky. I’ve never been beaten up after sex before,” he replied, smirking. “And perhaps I may have deserved it for a while.”

  I looked at him, surprised. Was he admitting he’d been an asshole?

  He leaned in for another kiss and I pulled away from the wall and ducked out from under his arm, walking back towards the light. He followed me, his hands in his pockets.

  "Mr. Carter, I mean Jonathan; I know it was a one-time thing and won't happen again, but right now I'm more concerned about Isabella who is waiting for you inside."

  "Isabella is just a friend. I bring her on dates once in a while but we have no romantic involvement."

  Oh.

  "And what’s Gerry to you; your boyfriend?"

  "No he is not," I retorted. "We’re just friends."

  “And Banks?”

  I looked at him as though he was totally out of his mind.

  “Mr. Banks is just a friendly client; nothing more,” I replied shaking my head.

  His facial expression remained unchanged.

  I continued.

  "My apology to you was genuine and I'll see to it that I avoid anything like that ever happening again." I had to make it clear.

  He ran his hand through his hair then turned to me.

  "You know what, Lena? We need to talk."

  The sliding doors opened and Isabella cat-walked towards us.

  "Jonathan, I want to go. Everyone is leaving."

  She didn't wait for a response and walked back inside, leaving the doors open. He turned his attention back to me.

  "Lena, meet me tomorrow. I'm coming over to your place."

  I thought about my Atlantic Station neighborhood and the prying eyes; many Strauss Carter personnel lived in the area. Cell phone images might be taken, possibly showing up in tabloids. I'd already seen his tabloid images and gossip surrounding his life and I wanted no part of it.

  "I don't want pictures showing up, giving the wrong impression."

  He thought for a moment.

  "Okay, come over to my place instead; at 1 o'clock,” he offered.

  He must have noticed my hesitation at his invitation.

  "There’s a private restaurant in the building, just for residents and their guests. The concierge will direct you. I'll text you my code for parking."

  I didn't respond. I was too shocked for words. Mr. Carter was asking me to meet him outside of work. He began walking back inside, turning at the last moment.

  "Great mixer; well done. Good night."

  He sounded genuine. And with that, he gave me a smile and was gone.

  When I walked back inside, Mr. Carter and Isabella had left. Betty hadn't brought a date and she was still there, chatting to Mr. Baker and his wife who we saw regularly. It was close to 8 o'clock and the hotel staff was already surreptitiously clearing up the room. I walked up to the group and we chatted for a few minutes. Being a Friday night, I suggested we could move to the hotel bar downstairs but everyone decided to rather go home. I said my goodbyes and crossed the street to our office building next door, headed for the basement. Jonathan's Porsche Cayenne was gone. I got into my car and left, with a million thoughts running through my
mind.

  When I got home, I threw everything on the floor and flopped on my bed. I was too tired, confused and hungry to think clearly. I’d barely eaten or drunk anything at the mixer, more concerned with how the event was turning out. In the end, it’d all worked out great and I’d be sending thank you notes on Monday. After lying down for ten minutes, I got up, showered and nibbled on a piece of cold roast chicken from my fridge with a glass of orange juice.

  I thought about the events of the evening. My boss had dragged me off to a dark corner to make out; I’d kissed him back. He was not sorry about our encounter on Monday evening and he was surprised I’d apologized for my part in it. He denied dating Isabella. But we all know how men ‘is’, said the little voice in my head. Now he wanted us to talk and I was supposed to go meet him tomorrow. Like a date. Meeting my boss on Saturday to discuss matters not relating to work was basically a date.

  I'd been hurt before; that's why I’d left LA. I was not going to become fuck buddies with my boss. While I loved me a good dick like most women, I was not going down a route with no future and I certainly did not want to become a bed warmer for the master, I thought sarcastically.

  In LA I'd had a serious relationship with Willis for four years which ended badly; him not seeming to care and me with a broken heart.

  Sleeping with Jonathan had been the most mind-blowing experience ever; he’d gone out of his way to pleasure me, pressing all the right buttons at the right moment. In contrast, my four year relationship had been spent with me mostly trying to please Willis, while he treated me like garbage; especially towards the end. He was one of the star athletes in the college football team and when he’d made it to the National Football League draft, every girl wanted a piece of him. His ego was bigger than his dick; and he’d disrespected me, sleeping with everything that had a vagina.