Authors: Chamein Canton
Not His Type
Up until that moment Cathy had been under the impression
that athletes were to refrain from sex before an important game.
But it seemed that no one had bothered to tell this to Marcus.
Pressed up as they were against the dishwasher, soft and sweet
kisses started bursting into white-hot passion. Just as Cathy tried
to get her bearings, Marcus kissed her neck while he skillfully
unbuttoned her shirt with one hand. When her shirt lay on the
floor, his eyes widened at the sight of her ample caramel breasts.
They were so inviting in her sexy black lace bra.
Thank God I wore a pretty bra,
she thought to herself.
Somehow I don’t think an industrial bra would have elicited this reaction.
Before she could say a word he kissed her neck and breasts.
With sleight of hand, he undid her bra and caressed her breasts
slowly and deliberately.
Whoever said all you needed was a handful
obviously didn’t know what he was thinking about,
Marcus thought.
I’ll take two handfuls any day.
Marcus pulled this shirt off and threw it to the floor. Cathy
suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked good in pinstripes but
shirtless he was amazing. She ran her hands down his toned chest
to his six pack abs; her hands were anxious to explore more of his
tight, muscular body.
Marcus continued exploring the softness of all her curves. He
ran his fingers through her hair, down her neck and then ever so
slowly down her back. He paused to unbutton her pants and
slowly pulled the zipper down. He felt her body tighten as he
inched ever closer to the sweet spot just beyond.
TYPE
CHAMEIN CANTON
Genesis Press, Inc.
Indigo
An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.
Publishing Company
Genesis Press, Inc.
P.O. Box 101
Columbus, MS 39703
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any
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known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of
the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write
Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to
anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even
distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the
author and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN-13: 978-158571-253-3
ISBN-10: 1-58571-253-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all the women out there who are
afraid of rejection, may you be emboldened to take a chance
on love. Your heart will thank you for it.
Writers lead somewhat of a solitary existence. However, no
writer is an island. We need the support, love and encouragement
of our families and friends, to whom we owe so much. I send my
love to:
My fantastic family, most particularly my dad, Leonard
Canton, Jr., who never gave up on me even when I wanted to give
up on myself; my mother, Mary Wallace, whose Southern ways
gave me an odd sense of humor; my younger and only sister,
Natalie Sherman, who has turned out to be my best friend; my
brother-in-law, Donell Sherman, who has made my sister happy
and is a wonderful uncle to Sean and Scott; my brother in spirit,
Joel Woodard, the big brother I never had but love just the same;
to my twin uncles, Calvin and Cecil Canton, teachers who spent
many summers nurturing my love of reading; and to my twin
sons, Sean and Scott, who are simply the most wonderful sons any
mother could have, I love them more than anything. And to all
my family too numerous to mention, but no less important in my
eyes.
My wonderful boyfriend, Michael Bressler, who opened my
eyes and my heart to what real love is.
My grandmothers, Grandma Salley and Grandma Canton;
my great-grandmother, Dorothy Donadelle; my Auntie Ruth,
Aunt Edna and Uncle Willis who, although they’re gone, made an
impression on my life and the woman I’ve become.
To my small circle of friends: Ed Kemnitzer, James Weil and
Eric Smith. Thanks for being there, guys!
To my wonderful team at Genesis Press who put their faith in
me and gave me a platform for my words and stories. You’re the
best!
For my favorite team, The New York Yankees, and to #2 for
being the epitome of style and grace under pressure both on and
off the field!
In the moments before Cathy Chambers stepped out of
bed to get her day started she turned on the TV to see what
The Weather Channel had in store for her. More red than
yellow on the map meant the three Hs, hot, haze and
humidity, would stick around, at least for the foreseeable
future.
Another hot day courtesy of the greenhouse effect.
She
sighed. Then a light smile washed over her face as she
remembered the days when she could count on a fall cool
down in September. Cathy had been one of the nerdy kids
who actually looked forward to going back to school.
Growing up, her summers were filled with religious meetings five times a week and a daily door-to-door ministry
during the dog days of summer. Back to school meant a
reprieve from her summer grind. The only downside was
the end of summer meant the end of the regular baseball
season. It wasn’t all bad, though. Her favorite men in
pinstripes always made it to the post season.
Thinking about the Yankees, Cathy changed the
channel to see the baseball results from the night before,
but the ESPN scroll was showing results from the National
League.
I missed it,
she sighed. Since it was already four
twenty-five, Cathy knew she didn’t have time to waste
waiting for it to loop around to the American League again.
She had a business lunch and staff meeting in Manhattan.
Slowly but surely Cathy’s morning routine unfurled:
She washed her face, put her shower cap on and hopped
into the shower. She preferred baths but the time manager
in her opted for showers as a time saver. After a quick ten
minutes, she hopped out, then dabbed a little Oil of Olay
on her face, a tip courtesy of her mother. Although she
tended to balk at some of her mother’s other suggestions,
this one she followed. Despite being over sixty, Elizabeth,
Cathy’s mother, had very few lines on her face.
Covered by a towel, Cathy stood in front of her closet
and searched for just the right outfit. A full-figured woman
for most of her life, she had a keen eye for what worked
with or against her curves. After studying the closet’s
contents for a moment, she held a Yankee blue v-neck shirt
dress up against her and examined herself in the full length
mirror. The blue complemented her caramel complexion
and the v-neck would enhance her biggest assets, her boobs
.
Good choice,
she mumbled aloud.
It’s authoritative yet
feminine, and a little sexy
. Cathy laid the dress on her bed
and continued getting ready.
Makeup flawless and dressed to the nines, Cathy went
outside to get the newspapers on her way to the kitchen.
She glanced at the headlines, then flipped over to the sports
page before she tossed the paper on the dining room table.
A long time magazine junkie, Cathy’s business was such
that she rarely got the chance to catch up. But this morning
was different; she put the latest
Glamour
on the hutch so
she wouldn’t forget to read it.
One out of eight, I guess that’s
not too bad,
she thought as she glanced at the pile of magazines she had yet to read.
However, there was one important piece of business to
take care of first: her morning coffee, which she fixed in a
flash. With
Glamour
in one hand and her coffee mug in the
other, she sat at the kitchen table. The morning silence was
broken by the sound of her sister rummaging through her
closet.
Ten to one she’s looking for shoes
, Cathy thought,
snickering softly, knowing her sister to be quite the shoehorse.
The aroma of baked muffins from the night before was
still in the air when Anna entered the kitchen. Four years
younger than Cathy, Anna put the idea of the mousy
accountant in the dust. At 6’1 she made a traditional skirt
suit or pant suit look as if it belonged on the runways of
Milan. Her shoulder length brown hair framed her high
cheekbones and perfect oval-shaped face to give her a soft
look that belied her frank and precise nature. Anna was
definitely not the stereotypical accountant and it had taken
a secure brother to win her heart. Her fiancé was Roger
Beckett, an electrical engineer, who at 6’3 loved being seen
with his tall mocha latte, as he called her, a reference to her
glowing, even complexion. “Another morning filled with
fresh baked goods. You know I’m going to gain at least ten
pounds this summer.” Anna patted her thighs.
“It should be so easy.” She checked out Cathy’s outfit.
“You look nice this morning. “
“Thanks, Anna. I’m heading into Manhattan later on.”
Anna nodded her head before turning her attention to
Cathy thought for a moment. “Twelve. I used Splenda
to lower the sugar.”
Anna, an insulin dependent diabetic, programmed the
number into her pump.
“Are the papers here yet?” Anna asked.
“They’re on the dining room table.” Cathy pointed to
the table.
Anna retrieved the papers from the dining room table.
She stopped to giggle.
Cathy looked up. “What’s so funny?”
“You didn’t see this?”
Cathy raised her eyebrows. “You know I’m only interested in the sports page in the morning.”
Anna chuckled. “I’ll never understand why. You
watched the game last night. You know your Yankees won.”
“True, but you know how I am during the season.”
“How could I forget?” Anna paused to read the back
page. “I see your man was on point last night.”
Cathy let out a dreamy sigh. “I’ll say. He was three for
four last night.”
Smiling, Anna shook her head. “Why can’t you be into
basketball like the rest of the sistahs?”
Cathy looked up with a wry smile. “Because basketball
wasn’t our summer reprieve, baseball was.”
Reminded, Anna backed down. “You’re right about
that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“So what’s happening in the gossip columns?” Cathy
said as she turned her attention back to the magazine.
“It seems the gossip columns can’t decide whether
Britney has lost or gained weight after having a baby. Then
there’s another blurb here about a model who had a month
to get the baby weight off for a fashion show.”
Cathy hung her head, disgusted. “Nine months to put
it on and thirty days to take it off. You see why I stick to
the sports page. That’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it.” Anna tossed the newspapers on the
table while she made her tea. “If you’re not reading the
paper, what’s so interesting?”
“An article in this month’s
Glamour
I’ve been meaning
to read.”
Anna sat down with her muffin and tea. “What’s it
about?”
“Sex, of course,” Cathy chirped.
“Figures.”
“The article is fascinating. Women are revealing their
true number of sexual partners.”
“Must be anonymous.”
“Of course, women never reveal such things unless it’s
to complete strangers.”
“So how do we stack up?”
Cathy laughed. “We’re in the embryonic league.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m no heavy hitter, but I can’t be
that bad.”
“You’re also engaged.”
Anna beamed at her princess cut diamond engagement
ring. “True. When’s the last time you had sex?”
“It’s been so long I think I might be a reconstituted
virgin. Mother will be so proud.”
“I wouldn’t go around telling anyone that,” Anna
cautioned.
“With a sex life from the 1800s. We’re not living our
lives to please Mom anymore. We can’t.”
“We couldn’t please her if we wanted to. As far as she’s
concerned we might as well install a revolving door and put
golden arches over our bedrooms.” Cathy leaned back in
the chair.
“You’re right about that,” Anna said sipping her tea.
Ten years ago Cathy and Anna had been members of a
religion that didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays. Dating
was permitted with a chaperone or in a group as long as the
couple intended to get married. This rule applied to
twenty-somethings to forty-somethings and beyond.
Needless to say, premarital sex was definitely way off limits.
After years of feeling confined, Cathy and Anna left the
fold to pursue a more normal adult life without restrictions.
Although they didn’t go buck wild, Elizabeth, their mother,
was concerned that was exactly what they did, and there
was no talking her out of that belief.
“My lack of a sex life has nothing to do with Mom. I
just decided to take some time off from relationships and
dating. I’m concentrating on my health and my business,”
Cathy said.
“You’re hopeless. Ivy League education and this is what
you do with it. You know there is only so much cooking,
cleaning, walking and working you can do to work off your
sexual tension.”
Cathy was floored. “What sexual tension?”
“Listen, sister, I’ve caught you detailing the kitchen
floor grout with a toothbrush at two o’clock in the
morning.”
“So you caught me once or twice, that’s not a big deal.”
“You also bake like a fiend in the early hours too.”
“So? I like to bake.”
“So you had a little after hours energy and you really
wanted to do someone, not something.” She sipped her tea.
“On the other hand, you could be Madison and lose count
of who’s warming the sheets every other night.”
“He’s a legend in his own mind. A divorce attorney with
a capital D. I think he leaves his cell phone on vibrate to
save time on his off nights.”
There was a knock on the door.
Cathy looked at her watch. “It’s about that time. It’s
Madison.”
“What’s up with him?”
“His car is in the shop.”
“That figures. The door’s open!” Anna yelled.
Doing what could only be termed as his George
Jefferson strut, Cathy and Anna’s first cousin Madison
walked in. Madison had been one of the few African
Americans to make
Law Review
. He had since taken his
degree and translated it into a thriving matrimonial law
practice. His reputation as a hard line negotiator and prenuptial agreement buster kept his appointment calendar
full. Always concerned with his appearance, Madison put
the metro in metrosexual long before
Queer Eye for the
Straight Guy.
At 5’6 he was one of the shorter people in the
family. However, what he lacked in height he made up for
in attitude and style, winning over clients and judges alike.
His motto was, ‘Barrister defend thy clients as thy would
defend thyself.’ It was a lesson he learned early after getting
burned by his own divorce. Now Madison lived his love life
à la carte, sampling as many women as humanly possible.
This was a habit which got him in more trouble with
women than it was worth.
Head held high, Madison strutted in. “I could have
melted waiting for you two to open the door.”
“This isn’t the courtroom. You don’t have make such a
dramatic entrance. You surely do not impress us.” Anna
crossed her legs.
“Not to mention you’re wearing your custom suit from
Brooks Brothers.”
Cathy sipped her coffee. “Your car’s in the shop. How
did you get over here?”
“Rena gave me a ride in her shiny new Jaguar.”
“Rena. The one woman you can’t have,” Cathy said.
He grabbed a muffin. “She is a lesbian, you know.
While the thought appeals to me, she’s not having it.”
“Rena has a new Jag?” Anna asked.
“Yeah, even lesbians drive chick magnets.”
“Except they call it a clit magnet and they know where
to find it, which is more than I can say for some men, my
fiancé excluded.”
“You are most certainly not talking about me; I’m
familiar with the terrain.”
Cathy covered her mouth. “God, you know how to
ruin someone’s appetite in the morning.”
“He said terrain. Talk about a misnomer,” Anna
quipped.
“Ha, ha, very funny.” Madison barked.
“I still don’t know why you bought that linen suit; your
pants will look like an elephant’s butt at the end of the day,”
Cathy teased Madison.
Anna burst out laughing.
“I look damn fine. Would it kill you two to agree with
me once in a while?”
“You already have a harem for that,” Anna joked.
He turned to Cathy. “So what are you wearing, Ms.
Chambers?”
She put her magazine down. “Cotton. I don’t want
people to feel compelled to throw peanuts at my butt every
time I get up.”
Anna snickered but again Madison wasn’t amused.
“You’re heading into the city, right?” Anna asked.
Cathy nodded. “We have a staff meeting.”
Madison looked surprised. “You’re not doing the home
office thing today?”
“No.” Cathy sighed at the thought of a long day. “It’s a
mandatory meeting, but I won’t be in Manhattan for too
long.”
Anna stood up. “I’ll call the president on my way to
work and remind her that you’re not going to be home
today.”
Cathy cracked a smile. “That’s right, she wanted to go
shopping. I have to neglect my duties of state.” She tapped
her hands on the table to the beat of ‘Hail to the Chief.’
The president thing was a running joke with Cathy and
Anna. Somehow their mother hadn’t gotten the message
they’re adults.
“Don’t worry, she’ll probably go with Ingrid,” Anna
shrugged it off.
“Imagine that, and I wore the right bra and everything,” Cathy joked.
Anna laughed while Madison looked confused.
“You broke out the industrial brassiere?”
“Definitely. If there is anything I don’t want to hear
anymore, it’s a state of the union address on tits, gravity and
the woman.”
Anna nodded in agreement “Oh yes. The pencil
analogy. If you place a pencil underneath one and it falls,
you’re firm. If it doesn’t fall, you’re drooping.”
“Which in essence means you can double as a bat rack
for the Yankees,” Cathy added.
Madison feigned being uncomfortable. “I don’t want to
hear any more of this talk; it might damage my gentlemanly sensibilities.” He pretended to cover his ears.
“Mr. Vibrating Cell Phone in My Front Pants Pocket
has gentlemanly sensibilities,” Cathy quipped.
Anna laughed. “So you’ll be heading home after the
meeting.”
“Yes, but I’m meeting Jim for lunch before the
meeting.”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s lunch and
not therapy?”
Cathy laughed. Anna thought she was more of a therapist than agent sometimes. “Yes, I’m sure it’s lunch. There’s
always something going on his life.”
Anna picked up her briefcase. “I guess that’s why I’m an
accountant. I know you get a percentage of his royalties,
but it seems to me that you’re more than earning it.”
“Hey, it took two years and God knows how many
rejections before we found a publisher for him and now he’s
writing bestsellers. If he wants to vent and moan that’s fine
with me. Anyway, I don’t consider him just a client, he’s
also a friend.”
“Better you than me.” Anna turned to Madison. “Don’t
you need a ride to the train station?”
“As a matter of fact I do, since you’re offering,” he
answered.
“I know that’s the only reason you came over,” Anna
said.
“Certainly not for my ego.”
“If you want your ego massaged, call one of your little
harem girls.”
He winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.”
“Would you rather we call them your stable of hoochie
coochie mammas?”
“I like the sound of harem better.”
“I thought so.” Anna put her sunglasses on. “See you
later, Cathy.”
“Have a good one, Cathy,” Madison smiled.
“I’ll see you two later.”