Blackestnights by Cindy Jacks Page B

handkerchief, I took off a good deal of my foundation as well. Freckles stared back at me, but my cheeks glowed with a pink flush. My hair perfectly tousled and my eyes alight with daring, I suddenly saw what Black saw—a beautiful, curvaceous woman filled with spirit. At least I thought that’s how he saw me.
    Reapplying only a little lip balm, I hurried out to meet him.
    “I get it.” I hugged the arm he offered me.
    As if he understood exactly what I meant—and most likely he did—Black kissed me softly. “I knew you would sooner or later.”

Chapter Eight
     
    The boutique we visited was “by appointment only”, which I could only assume he’d had his assistant arrange since Black waved away my questions. A personal shopper had picked out items in advance—a couple of dresses, more jeans, some stylish blouses and tasteful but damn sexy undergarments. All fit perfectly and flattered my complexion and figure.
    Black left without paying, flipping a casual wave at the attendant. Again, I could only imagine what arrangements he’d already made in advance.
    Once he’d retrieved his car from the valet, we headed home.
    “Do you like the clothes? You didn’t say much at the store,” he noted.
    “I do. They’re beautiful.”
    “You can leave them at my place and bring more of your things later in the week.”
    The statement struck me as presumptuous. “Am I moving in?”
    “Not immediately, but I expect that you’ll be spending lots of time at my place.”
    “I suppose.”
    “Yes or no. Do you want to or not?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Indecision and inhibition.” He clucked his tongue.
    Staring out the window, I attempted to sort out my feelings. While I’d enjoyed every second that we’d spent together thus far, I wasn’t sure where I wanted all this to go. Then it struck me that his admonishment was true. I was absolutely indecisive and inhibited. Especially about speaking my feelings.
    A pebble of annoyance worked its way to the surface and I blurted it out before I had the chance to think better. “You have to stop buying me things after we… You know.”
    “I don’t know. Say what you mean.”
    “After we fuck .” I gripped the handles of the shopping bag.
    “I thought we’d been over this.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not my intention to make you feel like a whore. If you don’t want the clothes, we can stop by the nearest thrift store and donate them. Doesn’t matter to me.”
    “Well, you did call me a five-dollar crack whore earlier.”
    A grin broke through his serious expression. “No, I didn’t. I asked if you liked being treated like a five-dollar crack whore. There’s a difference.”
    Touché.
    “For the record, I wasn’t crazy about the blowjob in the bathroom thing,” I said.
    “Then why did you do it? You could’ve stopped me at any time.”
    “I wanted to try it, but I don’t think it’s my thing. Sex in public.”
    “Boundary noted.” He kissed my hand, arching an eyebrow. “So, should I stop somewhere to discard your payment for services rendered?”
    Black rustled the bag for emphasis.
    “No. I like the clothes. I’m just trying to figure out how I feel about all this.”
    He dipped his head as if conceding the point. All this was new for both of us. It would take some time until we understood each other completely.
    * * * * *
    When we got to the house, Black said he had some work to do and told me I should try to write some more.
    Sitting in front of the laptop, I stared at the blank open file, every blink of the cursor mocking me. Finally I typed the word “Black”, but couldn’t come up with much more than that.
    An hour later, he walked through the dining room. “How’s the writing going?”
    “It’s not.”
    He stood behind me. “One word. My name. That’s it?”
    I sighed. “I know. I’m pathetic.”
    “That you’re calling yourself pathetic is pathetic. Stand up.”
    “It’s not playtime,” I reminded