Page 14 of Caught off Guard

He showed up as a unique and unexpected presence during one of the most stressful times of my professional life. For once,I would channel Lena. It was time to throw logic and caution to the wind.

AFTERMATH

As Wayne droveme back home, I closed my eyes and silently reprimanded myself. I did it again—overextended myself to a woman I had just met. To the tune of seven million dollars. And invited that tempting woman to stay overnight in my private residence. For days.

Something was officially off in my brain. Maybe I was going through a crisis as I approached retirement.

I wanted to call my therapist for a check-in about my judgment the second I hopped in my vehicle, but I refused to do so with Luther sitting next to me. He would clown me and tellme what I already knew—I was going through some mess that needed to be fixed.

Instead of fiddling with my technology, I stared out the window and replayed the afternoon. There was something magical about Dr. Zora Langston, with her glowing, butterscotch skin. I was drawn and, dare I say, attracted to her in a way I couldn’t yet describe or understand.

It wasn’t just her crisp words and the melodious cadence of her firm yet gentle voice. It was her body language and overall presence—how she commanded a room of people who looked to her for leadership. Yet, I sensed she wasn’t as strong as she wanted everyone to believe.

I could tell that at her core, she was sweet and an active listener. When she spoke with someone, she put all her attention into the conversation, finding a connection with them so she could reel them into her world and enter theirs. She had a natural gift of making someone feel as if they were important and that what they said mattered.

And when she stood on that stage, sharing the worst news possible about students losing scholarships, her empathetic spirit grabbed something deep in me and tugged on it hard. I didn’t have to know her to want to support her. An inner voice told me to go to her aid, ease her pain, and hold her up in an instant.

That was how I always covered Cece. No matter what she went through, I protected her with every fiber of my being. No one had pulled that desire from me since her death.

Although I probably appeared calm, cool, and collected on that stage, I almost lost myself standing by Zora. Her sweet, alluring perfume drew me to her, taking my mind to the gutter for a few moments. Fortunately, my dishevelment happened as I stood behind the lectern. That was why I had to speak slowly until my body calmed down.

In Zora’s office, I refused to be thrown off by what I perceived as a carefully crafted external face. Although the practicality of her low nude heels, flesh-colored stockinged legs, and finely tailored suit aged her, the youthful, feminine energy that darted from her frame excited me and made me want to break through her hard exterior. In her presence, I saw past the forty-something-year-old woman who presented herself like a stoic sixty-year-old man. Glimpses of Zora’s playful spirit shone through in her words and gestures. I leaned into that with my flirtatiousness since the mirror Zora presented had two faces.

I committed her nonverbals to memory during our brief time together. Her little pouty pink lips were everything. She bit her lip when she was nervous. She sucked in her breath when she was startled and planning her next move. And when she was aroused, she stared at my lips, which I wet repeatedly so I could watch her lush body squirm under my gaze.

Zora Langston was hot and ripe, a peach ready to be plucked and sucked in a variety of places. As she protested my subtle and not-so-subtle advances, I wanted to make her mine in the worst and best ways. But she was calculated and didn’t come across as a woman who could be wooed easily. I had to tap into her intellect and touch her heartstrings to get next to her.

From my office conversation with Zora, I sensed that Geoff might be an obstacle. He claimed he was her man on our phone call, but something about their relationship felt off. Zora’s spine stiffened when I spoke about Geoff. After the luncheon, I observed their body language too. He didn’t seem to care about pushing their conversation until her shoulders tightened. Whatever they were talking about had him frowning frequently. She even rolled her eyes at him before he left for his meeting at the bank. Zora deserved to be treated better than a wet paper bag. I wanted to step up and show her how much.

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Luther’s question cut through my thoughts as Wayne weaved the car through afternoon traffic that picked up volume.

“Who? The president?”

“Yeah. Now that’s the kind of woman you should be with.”

I rested my head on the headrest and eyed Luther suspiciously. Had he and Whitney shared information that made him think something could blossom between us? Since Cece’s death, he had never tried to hook me up with anyone.

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s strong and won’t take your mess. You’ve been wayward for a while, and someone like Dr. Langston can put you back on track.”

I rolled my eyes, genuinely insulted at Luther’s overstepping.

“I’m not a train. I don’t need to be put back on anyone’s track.” I snapped.

“Hmph.” Luther placed his headphones over his ears and looked straight ahead.

That night,I went hard in my home gym, knowing this might be my last season in the league. Even the best shooting guards didn’t play past forty-three. With dribble drives, contact in the paint, hitting the floor, and going after fifty-fifty balls, my aging, forty-year-old body felt like crap most mornings after games, especially after cross-country trips. I should not complain, though, since this was what it took to keep up with the new crop of athletes in the league. I couldn’t hang with the young guys like I used to. And I feared that if I pushed my body beyond its limits, too many years or in the wrong way, I might end up with a permanent injury that would affect the quality of the rest of my life.

At the end of my two-hour workout session, I still hadn’t gotten Zora off my mind. If I called her, would she answer? Or would she send me to voicemail? Was she with Geoff?

I racked my weights and stared at my phone as I toweled down. I decided it was best to text Zora so her man wouldn’t try to beef with me.

Me:

Hi, Madam President.

When she didn’t answer immediately, I cleaned down my equipment. I checked my phone a final time before going upstairs. She still hadn’t responded. I showered. Still no reply.

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