Authors: Darren Coleman
A
s Nate walked through the Safeway he was thinking that he couldn’t believe he was about to go home and cook dinner for Sahleen. When she had called him earlier that morning and told him she was headed out of town the next day for a photo shoot, but that she wanted to see him, he was eager to set up a date. He had suggested Sequoia’s, an elegant seafood restaurant located at the Georgetown Harbor. Sahleen had shot that idea down when she told him she wasn’t in the mood for going out. She said that she had made a routine of getting to bed early on the nights leading up to her photo shoots so that she could look fresh and rested.
It took Nate by surprise when she suggested that he pick up something from the store a nd cook for her. It surprised him even more when he agreed. She gave no suggestions or requests other than saying, “Nothing special or spectacular, as long as it’s hot and tasty, just like I like my lovers.” Nate still couldn’t believe that he was cooking for a woman after he had already gotten the sex. Cooking, sending flowers, and all of the other sweet stuff were for suckers as far as Nate was concerned. He only considered it fine to give and do the sweet things in order to get them into bed.
Of course, he knew that women appreciated things like that, but for Nate it wasn’t all about what women liked, especially not after he had already gotten the panties. Nate didn’t mind a dinner date and maybe a movie for ladies who he considered to be “dime pieces,” meaning perfect “tens.” He sometimes even extended himself beyond that mark, if a honey was truly “all of it.” Once Nate had dropped a couple of hundred bucks, which was usually two dates, the lady had best be prepared to set that ass out on a silver platter. He would tell his boys that he didn’t mind feeding them and letting them be seen out with him.
Nate’s philosophy was summed up by one of his trademark bits of knowledge: “If you take a woman out and show her a nice time, she’ll always want to go out with you. Sure, you’ll spend a couple of dollars in the short run, but it should be worth it in the long run, depending upon how much ass you get out of it.”
With Nate everything was a methodical step in a patented program to either get the sex from a honey or weed out the women who were looking for a relationship. Nate used all of his cunning to figure out, as quickly as possible, just how badly a woman wanted to get with him. He always claimed that if a woman is attracted and interested in a man, she will give it up after a few dates. That is, unless she wants to make a “good impression.” Women never seemed to learn that men don’t give a damn about a “good impression.” They much prefer the “first impression,” simply meaning, if the sex is good, it doesn’t matter when they give it up, on the first date or the tenth—the brother will be back.
“So why make a brother wait, just for appearances sake?” Nate would ask a honey in a minute. If a brother has any game whatsoever, he should have the chick at his crib or in a hotel by the third date. Getting her to his crib is essential, because home field advantage is a factor. Women tend to be more vulnerable when in a man’s home. In her own apartment or home, she tends to feel more empowered, basically because she’s in her domain, and she can kick a brother out anytime she gets ready. At his spot, there’s the ever so slight intimidation of not having complete balance. If a brother uses that slight intimidation to his advantage without making her feel threatened, he’s in every time, Nate would say.
Ask ten women where they were the first time that they made love to the guy that they are dating now. It’s a safe bet that only two or three of them were at their place. It’s easy logic. Even if they don’t plan it, that’s just the way it usually happens. If she doesn’t like the sex, she can make up an excuse to leave. Likewise, in his own castle a man can pull just about anything he wants to in order to get rid of a date should the need arise.
There are endless rules and laws of the game called love and romance, and Nathan Montgomery came about as close to being an expert on them as anyone. His areas of genius just happened to be on dog mentality and covert missions of deceit. Rule number one for Nate was to never get caught at his game. Nate emphatically believed that the quickest way for a man to play himself out is to get busted a few times. Women talk, and a bad reputation spreads quickly. In addition to getting a bad name, it’s rough on the ladies when they find out the man of their dreams doesn’t really give a damn about them. So letting them down easy if possible was a good way to avoid key scratches on the Lexus and supersized guilt trips.
Nate headed toward
the cashier with all of the ingredients to prepare his specialty, turkey spaghetti and French bread. There was no denying that he could feel excitement about the evening ahead. It wasn’t all that strange for Nate to be feeling excited about a woman, because women were one of the things in life that thrilled him most. Actually, his love for a new romantic conquest was right up there with money, cars, music, and parties. But what was a rarity was that he was so excited about a second date.
It was only Wednesday and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since dropping her off on Sunday morning. They had enjoyed what could have been a one-night stand after she’d left the party with him.
He had gotten her to leave the party with him that night by promising her breakfast. When they reached the Georgetown Café it was packed, so he offered to cook for her at his house. Once they reached his exclusive apartment building on Vermont Avenue, neither one of them so much as mentioned food. This, of course, was fine with Nate.
Once in his apartment Sahleen complimented him on his art collection, which mostly was made up of box-framed black-and-white photos. Most were Tim Hinton originals from his upscale art gallery in Upper Marlboro. There were a couple of pieces from an up-and-coming artist, Anthony Carr, but Nate’s favorite was a huge lacquer-framed color photo of Muhammad Ali standing over a knocked-out Sonny Liston, daring him to get up and fight.
Nate had led Sahleen straight through the living room and into the bedroom, where they lay staring up at the ceiling and talking for nearly an hour about their lives.
Then, out of the blue, Sahleen requested that Nate light some candles and put on some music. He obliged her with an ocean-scented and relaxation aromatherapy candle from Pier 1 Imports. He searched his living room for a CD that would set the desirable mood. When he couldn’t decide between Gerald Levert and Carl Thomas, he decided to put the radio on. When he heard the Isley Brothers singing “Choosey Lover” on Magic 102.3, he pumped up the volume and headed toward the bedroom.
By the time he returned Sahleen was standing by the window completely naked. Once he saw her naked silhouette in front of him, he almost passed out, as the blood went rushing from his head and straight to his penis. Nate casually pulled his shirt off and his pants fell to the floor just as quickly. He walked up behind her and kissed her shoulders until she turned around to offer him her lips. They kissed passionately, like two old lovers rather than two strangers, and Nate enjoyed sweeping his new friend away in a frenzy of passion and lust. Once they stood face-to-face Nate looked into her eyes, trying to read her.
She looked so innocent to him, but life had shown him that looks mean nothing. Just because she owned the most beautiful face did not mean she wasn’t still a typical woman. To Nate this meant that she eventually would want something from him. The fact of the matter was that Sahleen simply liked what she saw. He was dressed extremely well, brimming with confidence, drove a fancy car, and had a laid-out apartment. Nate had already rationalized that she knew she wanted to be a part of his scene, even if the price was what she possessed between her legs.
Nothing new,
Nate thought, as he placed the palms of his hands on top of Sahleen’s head while pushing it down to his groin. She obliged him for a short while before pulling him to the bed. Nate wanted to give Sahleen all the foreplay she could handle. He had pulled out the baby oil and was rubbing the small of her back, all the while fingering her gently. Then he began sliding his tongue down the back of her thighs, while she made futile attempts to keep from squirming. It had been a while since she had had her toes sucked and the balls of her feet kissed, but she enjoying every minute of it. There was a river forming between her thighs before Nate buried his tongue inside of them. Her eyes were closed while Nate made music with the slurping sounds of his lips and tongue. In her mind she was singing Aaliya’s “Rock the Boat” as she came all over Nate’s face.
Sahleen had Nate sweating as his lean, chocolate body worked on top of her. He was gently squeezing her behind and pulling her up to meet his grinding thrust. She rubbed and sucked his glistening chest while digging gently into the middle of his back. They kissed some more, and then all of a sudden Nate pulled his body from on top of hers. Her mouth fell open with displeasure, and she begged him not to stop. Nate wanted to get behind her, though, and he did. As he pounded her she tried to muffle her screams by biting the pillows, but she could still be heard. He could feel her body beginning to go limp from pleasure, so he allowed her to lie flat on her stomach. As he was doing push-ups in and out of her, Sahleen’s body began to lift off the mattress. He grabbed her by her hair and yanked her head back. She screamed out to let him know that she liked it rough, too. Her moans became screams of passion as she began to climax. She called out Nate’s name and told him in plain terms, “Oh, baby, this big black dick is driving me crazy.” With each stroke Nate could feel the tingling start to get stronger. He was looking down, watching each in and out motion. He wanted to stay there forever, but he couldn’t take anymore. Sahleen’s wetness squeezed him and Nate exploded inside of her.
Mama had it going on, Nate thought. He even wondered why in the world she had given it up so easily. It didn’t matter. Nate’s ego and body were caught up in the rapture of having a model in its midst, and Sahleen was overwhelmed with the excitement of being with one of the smoothest and most confident black men she had ever encountered.
Though they would describe it as casual sex to anyone they told about the incident, in both of their minds they had “made love” to the other person. This was out of character for Nate. He usually tried to fuck the cowboy shit out of women the first time he lay down with them.
When Sahleen gave
her body to a man it was usually after she had pulled emotions out of him he sometimes didn’t even know he had—and had spent several thousand of his dollars proving he was worthy. Sahleen had captured the hearts and minds of many powerful men in her twenty-six years. And she was wise beyond her age. She had grown up fast in Miami, Florida, living with her older sister, Iris, after the death of her mother. (Their father had long since moved back to France.) Iris modeled for the Ford Agency and was seldom home; by the time Sahleen was in the ninth grade she basically had her own apartment. Iris made very good money, and was able to take good financial care of Sahleen. She and her sister moved to New York City’s Lower East Side for Iris’s job.
Though Iris was on location for nearly seven months a year, she didn’t have the heart to send her baby sister to Ohio to live with their only aunt; Sahleen stayed and went to private schools. She learned how to be sneaky, so it wasn’t unusual for her to have her boyfriend spend every night of the week without her sister ever catching on. It was strictly for the company. Sahleen learned that with money she didn’t need anything from a man except company and sex—and sometimes not even for those. Iris made sure the bills were always paid in advance, and that Sahleen had a credit card for clothing and plenty of cash in the house for food and entertainment.
Sahleen graduated from Sisters of Trinity School with decent grades and headed off to the Fashion Institute at San Francisco. She stayed for one semester before calling Iris and asking for help getting into modeling. She told Iris quite matter-of-factly that she was too beautiful to be designing clothes to put on women who weren’t half as attractive as she. It was true. Iris made some calls and had Sahleen back in Manhattan preparing her portfolio within two weeks.
It just so happened that on the plane back across the country Sahleen met a man. That man was Franco Berra, a renowned photographer. Franco had been one of the most sought after freelance photographers in the country, but he had grown tired of all of the traveling. Franco told her he was relocating to work for an agency in Washington, D.C., and that they were looking for “older” models, which meant over twenty-three. Sahleen had explained that she was just getting started, but that she’d love to work in D.C. He promised to call if he could find a use for her. They exchanged numbers and kept in contact for the next four years while Sahleen steadily made a name for herself.
Franco invested heavily in the agency and became part owner of Mobley Models Agency. Finally, two days after her twenty-second birthday, Franco called Sahleen and offered her a contract. Mobley had gained the Nordstrom and M.A.C. Makeup accounts and needed some new faces for the five years’ worth of ads they were now guaranteed. Sahleen was on her way to Washington, and to prominence. Before long Franco had made Sahleen his pet project, and that meant getting her face everywhere. Sahleen had a chameleonlike ability to change faces, so she was seldom recognized. The face in the Nordstrom’s catalog looked different than the one on the back of
Essence
magazine. The face in the Cash Money video looked different than the one in the Jaheim video. Sahleen did in fact have it going on. And now she suspected she had Nate going, too.
“Twenty-four seventy-nine.
Paper or plastic?” the smiling cashier asked.
“Plastic is fine, sweetheart,” Nate returned, as he handed the cashier a crisp fifty. Nate collected his bags and headed out, making eye contact with a cute cashier on the way. He reached his car and threw the groceries into the passenger seat.