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At four forty-five, I wrapped up our end-of-the-day meeting and wished all my staff a great weekend. After that, the office suite cleared out in record timing. I headed back to my office to pack up, when a melodic voice called out, stopping me in my tracks.
“Oden?”
I walked toward Kerenza, taking slow, measured steps. I constantly had to remind myself not to be too eager or come on so strong that I might scare her away.
“I was just thinking about you,” I said by way of greeting. True, I’d worked in the same room with her for the past almost nine hours, but I hadn’t talked directly to her all day.
As she propped a hand on her shapely hip, a grin appeared on her face, bringing out those dimples.
“Oh, really? And what were you thinking?”
I kept my eyes trained on hers, despite wanting to let them roam all over the work of art known as Kerenza’s body.
“I can show you better than I can tell you.” Her eyebrows flew up, prompting me to add, “Which you’ll see on our date. What time should I pick you up?”
She shook her head.
“I can just meet you—”
“That’ll ruin the surprise of the date,” I interjected smoothly. “So, what time should I pick you up?”
I was being a bit assertive, I realized, but women secretly loved that. Alpha men like me could personally attest to it.
“Seven. You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you my address.”
“Perfect.”
She turned to go, but stopped. “Wait. You said it’s a surprise… Does this surprise require a certain dress attire?”
I chuckled. “You’re a model. You quite literally look gorgeous in anything.”
Smiling shyly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, something I noticed she did often.
“Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, you will,” I called.
I watched her walk away, engaging in a battle with my dick , willing it not to get hard.
I lost.
We arrived in downtown Pittsburgh at half past seven. Instead of letting the driver open Kerenza’s door, I rushed out to get it. She smiled graciously before accepting my hand and letting me help her out of the Audi. For the second time tonight, I was blown away by her dress. Once again, she was wearing yellow. I honestly believed the color yellow had been created just for African American women, because no other race of women looked as good in it as they did. Melanin and yellow went together perfectly.
The valet held the door for us as we entered the restaurant. We didn’t have to wait at all, as I’d made reservations. The hostess promptly led us through the semi-crowded restaurant and over to an elevator. As we made our ascent she engaged Kerenza in idle chit chat, talking about womanly things like shoes and perfume.
Several minutes later, the three of us stepped off the car and onto the roof. Normally, this restaurant offered rooftop dining to all of its customers, but I’d put in a call and reserved it just for Kerenza and me. Not only that, instead of the standard, instrumental music they usually played, I’d hired the Bill Henry Band to come play for us. If you were from the Pittsburgh area, or had ever visited the area, then you knew precisely how epic this band was.
Kerenza looked around and gasped.
“Oh, my goodness, is-is that the Bill Henry Band?”
“Indeed it is.”
The hostess walked ahead, leading the way to the lone table on the rooftop. I’d requested all of the others be cleared away for tonight. Interlocking my hand with Kerenza’s, I gently pulled, prompting her to stop staring around in awe and follow me to the table.
Having beat us there, the hostess took the liberty of pouring us both a glass of the red wine that was waiting on the table.
“Annaliese will be your personal waitress for the evening and will be up momentarily. Have a great evening.”
