Page 20 of Rejection Overruled

None of the other women who fit into Robert’s criteria ever encouraged me to be great. After my soccer career washed down the drain, many of those women decided I was done for and never bothered with me. The one I had been dating dumped me for the new quarterback on campus.

However, I had already trained my brain to respond to those kinds of women and I supposed I needed to prove that I still had it going on. Therefore, I continued pursuing the women my brother suggested. Now, here I was about to do something which would make Robert cringe. I was about to pursue Brooke. And it wasn’t because of any stupid bet. It was because I wanted to.

Brooke was beautiful and even Robert would have to admit that. But she was anything but skinny and I just didn’t give a shit about her size. She was sexy as hell and any man who didn’t find her minutely attractive had something seriously wrong with his brain. There was no denying that Brooke had something most women I’d met didn’t possess. She had sass, style and most of all she was intelligent.

I knew she was going to drop me like a hot potato the minute she got me into her bed. But if I had my way, she’d be squirming under me with multiple orgasms and forgetting about that damn vendetta of hers. I wanted Brooke Owens and I was beginning to think I might have a crush on her. That sounded juvenile, but I refused to admit that I was falling for her, weirdness and all.

Excitement curled its way through me as the time drew near for out date. I couldn’t recall the last time I felt this stimulated by a woman. Brooke was the most infuriating, yet intriguing woman I knew.

I found myself ready long before eight and was driving across town to her apartment. By the time I reached Brooke’s place, my palms were sweaty and my heart was ready to break through my ribcage. Not wanting to seem too eager for this date and perhaps to make her sweat a little, I parked and relaxed in my car. I made a few notes on my mobile, checked my messages a zillion times, made a few unnecessary phone calls and clipped my already perfectly manicured fingernails.

At around ten minutes past nine, I extricate myself from my car and stretched my stiff limps. I’d been sitting in the vehicle for about an hour, trying to occupy my mind instead of thinking about Brooke. Truth be told, I was looking forward to seeing what Brooke had planned for the evening. Would she make a move on me? How far was she willing to go to hurt me? Would the evening end with a goodnight kiss or with her teasing and testing my self-control?

Gradually, she was breaking through my reserves, tearing down my carefully constructed walls and seeping under my skin. I found myself constantly thinking about her in ways I hadn’t thought about another woman.

Customarily, I’d get the girl and I was always confident that we would end up in bed. There was never any doubt in my mind that the girl I was dating would be mine. I never had to fantasize about a woman or wondered what it would be like to be with her. Women were never that much of a mystery to me. Brooke was proving different.

I had been thinking about what it was like to capture those luscious lips, to sink my tongue into her mouth and taste of her. And those breasts – I wanted nothing more to run my tongue over what I knew would be delectable nipples. Just the thought of hearing her sigh my name was enough to make my body react.

Before I knew it, I was at her door and pressing the doorbell. For five minutes I stood there waiting. I knew she was inside, she just had to make me wait. When she finally opened the door, I was hit with the beautiful scent of roses. It was a subtle scent but enough to tickle my senses. Brooke was wearing a robe, her face expertly made up and her hair piled atop her head, with tendrils softly brushing her nape. Even in that bathrobe, she was stunning.

“Come in,” she invited. “I’ll be ready in less than five minutes.”

I entered her apartment, which I considered to be her lair. Somehow, I was wary of being there, thinking that maybe Brooke would handcuff me to her bed and do things to me that would make my grandmother faint. For five long minutes I anxiously waited for my fate. Never could I recall being this anxious or excited while waiting for a date. Brooke was unpredictable and that made this game more exciting.

I’d just began to relax when she entered the living room. I stood speechless as my eyes cruised her curves in her navy satin dress. A split ran the length of her thigh inching just below the hip. Her perfume was light and sweet. Brooke brushed passed me on her way to the door.

“Close your mouth, Jamal,” she said. “Drooling doesn’t suit you.”

16 – Jamal

“Damn,” I cursed under my breath. “Dang it.”

This rarely happened that my car broke down. I serviced my car every month. Before leaving my apartment each morning, I made sure that everything was in working order. If I heard anything amiss, I stopped at the nearest gas station and have them check it.

As at that morning, my car worked fine. Moreover, I drove a BMW, the most recent edition, which meant that it was in top shape. Confused about the car’s inability to start, I got out and went to check the hood. Nothing made sense to me as I was not mechanically inclined.

Brooke joined me as I peered inside the hood. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just something simple. I’ll have it fixed in no time.”

“You have no idea what’s wrong, do you?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

“Let’s take my car, that is unless you are too proud to let me drive us to the restaurant,” she offered. “Or we can just cancel this date.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” I sneered. “Then tomorrow you’ll declare how much of a wuss I was for bailing on our date? Not a chance, Brooke Owens. Let’s go.”

After locking my car, we walked the few paces to where she parked. I thought that at the very least, she’d let me drive. That wasn’t to be. While on our way, I called my mechanic and gave him the address, asking him to check on it right away. We’d gone a kilometer or two when I noticed that Brooke had made a detour from the main route.

“This is not the way to the restaurant Brooke,” I observed, thinking that maybe she’d made a bad turn.

“Of course it is,” she replied. “We’ll be there in no time.”

Even as she spoke, her foot pressed the gas and the vehicle sped forward. It only occurred to me where we were when the car continued accelerating. This was the road where the rogues of LA did their drag racing. My eyes fell to the speedometer on the dashboard as my heart dropped to my stomach. The speed with which she was going made me grab the sides of my seat.

“What are you doing?” I shouted as the blood singing through my ears almost deafened me.

---