After what some called “stealing” the majority of her former employers’ clients, it had only taken Monica ten months to establish herself as Atlanta’s go-to promoter. She hadn’t stolen her employers’ clients, they were hers, she’d put Fleming’s on the map. Frustrated and more importantly, bored, Monica clawed her way from lowly secretary to the most sought after promoter Fleming’s had to offer. Even still her then boss, the hollow faced Adira, refused to acknowledge her worth and often brushed her ideas aside. Monica wanted Fleming’s to be the catalyst in next generation promotions with the glitz and glamour of New York and casual coolness of Los Angeles. But Adira and her constipated reverence for the Old South won the day. So, what was a girl to do? She gracefully bought her time, served her clients well, forged side deals with vendors and businesses, rubbed shoulders with the who’s-who, branded herself as the new ‘It’ girl, and drug her best friend Sharon along for the ride.

In the beginning, Sharon was uncertain their scheming would pay off but she soon found herself sipping drinks with music moguls, film producers, artist and photographers. Monica fit right in with this crowd, she wasn’t insecure and rather enjoyed having the emaciated women eye her—what could a full figured Black woman have over them? If they only knew. Unlike Monica who oozed confidence, Sharon took a second to warm to people. It was time for a complete image overhaul and Cody, Monica’s stylist, was just the guy for the job.

“Honey!” he shrieked spinning her around in his chair like a rag doll. “We gonna be here for a while! Somebody, get me a bowl ready!” He shouted and stood back raking his eyes over Sharon’s questionable attire with passive disgust. “You’re pretty enough, a little high yella and short but you can’t be blamed for that—you have a cute nose and your eyes aren’t bad. Don’t you worry, Cody’s gonna have you tighter than a virgin before prom night!” His fierce eye for drama and Merlin-like skills with weave was well worth the humiliation. In a matter of hours, he’d buffed away Little Sharon Douglas from Backwater, USA and out popped Sharon. She was officially an “It” girl—a one-namer like Madonna and Cher and, thanks to Monica’s connections, she had the wardrobe to match.

Nailing The Links Club account, the oldest affluent and vastly influential ladies organization, sealed the deal. The days of catering to Adira’s ego and her Overies: Over indulged, over plucked, over processed, and over medicated clients, were finished. The day came to turn in their letters of resignation and to add insult to injury; they affixed their simple yet elegant Tiffany blue and coco business cards emblazoned with their company’s name, Cara; and offered Adira free consultation.

More than before, clients began beating down their decadent doors once The Links, as they preferred to be addressed, buy in hit the society pages. Cara flourished but Monica’s love life come to an ear blustering halt—not that she cared, she hadn’t the time or energy to devote to another breathing creature. She and Scott saw one another from time to time but between their schedules and his whacked out ex-girlfriend, Courtney, time was an issue.

Scott and Courtney were on the outs when they’d meet that faithful night but Courtney refused to let him go. Losing him because of her overbearing neediness was one thing but losing him to someone she deemed to be inferior was quite another. She proved to be a level five stalker: calling Monica at random hours, magically appearing in restaurants, even turning up at one of her events. That was the last straw. In no uncertain terms, Monica informed Courtney that if she continued to harassing her, she’d kill her…she was only half joking and had the shovel and duct tape to prove it.

Consequently, there were no sexual liaisons between Monica and Scott during the stalker period. Yes, they chatted quite often, daily even, but scheduling conflicted impeded any intimacy from occurring. And it wasn’t as if they moved in the same circles; Scott was a firefighter, Monica was, for all intended purposes, a party girl…though ‘girl’ seemed a bit of a reach seeing she was well into her thirties. In fact, as far as she knew their friendship with Sharon was their only commonality which made his call confirming her attendance at a friend of a friend’s party that night that much more confusing. She hadn’t planned on going but seeing him was just the sweetener she needed.

It was a fabulous party being held by an acquaintance in his big house in Stone Mountain, just the right size for a good party, with maybe fifty or sixty people, none of whom either knew very well. There were some couples, a few single people, and plenty others looking to flirt, drink, and misbehave. As usual at such parties, most of the guests are divided between the kitchen, where most of the booze and the food were stationed, and the room where the music played, which currently held twenty or thirty people dancing and a few stragglers hanging about the halls. Drink in hand, Monica roamed the rooms speaking politely to people she hardly knew and avoided the unsavory characters lurking in the corners. Usually not one to behave at parties, she was up for some flirting and if she didn’t spot Scott soon she was pouncing on the tall grinning redhead who couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” Monica heard a hoarse and very sexy voice say from behind. She turned to see Scott smiling down at her; the light caught his blue eyes just at the right moment.

“Hey!” she hugged him genuinely happy to see him. “God, I’ve missed. You look great.”

“Thank you,” he stepped back admiring her short black skirt and black lace bra peering through a chiffon top. “And you look good enough to eat.” He said no bolder than normal, stepping closer. “Are you on your own tonight?”

“Yeah, Sharon’s out on a dated.” The look in his eye and the smell of his cologne made resisting the temptation to wrap her legs around his shoulders more difficult. “Are you alone?” He didn’t reply, he was fascinated by the way her lips moved. “What, what is it?” she asked coyly.

“Nothing,” he whispered through a pleasant, almost wishful smile and his eyes flickered into hers in a way they’d never done.

“Ohmigod, Scott Harrison, do you know who this is?” came a blood-curdling whinny with a bouncy blonde attached, flashing a Colgate smile.

Oh God, she’s an Overie. Monica thought. Minimal eye contact.

“Yes, Amanda. I know Ms. Galloway very well.” He angled his body between them. “We were just about to have this dance so…” he handed Monica’s drink to her and prompted her to step aside, guiding Monica to the floor with the other couples. They moved in close, arms wrapped lazily around the other and swayed dreamily to the music.

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

“It’s what I do for a living.” Scott fought to hold a straight face but failed miserably. “I can’t lie; it was a completely selfish gesture. I wanted to get you alone.”

Monica tossed her head back and gave a humorless laugh. “At least you’re honest. Most of these people don’t know me and the ones that do only want to give me their business cards.

“I’ve never lied to you, Monica.”

The sincerity in his tone melted her bones. “Kissing You,” she said abruptly. The look on his face prompted her for further explanation. “Kissing You, it’s the name of the song. I haven’t heard it in a long time. It was one of my favorites. He brushed a stray hair away from her face and leaned in gently for what Monica presumed would be a kiss, instead his lips grazed her jaw and rest his cheek on hers and crooned the songs’ lyrics into her ear. This man is gonna make me have his babies. She wagered.

Finally, he tilted her chin up until their lips met. She responded easily, kissing him long and slow, their lips sliding deliciously together, letting the rhythm of the music guide them teasingly against one another, the heat and sensuality of tasting the others lips after such a long time was unbearable. Monica whimpered as his hands gently drifted over her body, silently willing each gentle caress to linger just a little longer than the last. Whether she realized it or not, her kiss betrayed her. It was the kiss of a woman who’d gone without the touch of a man for far too long; the kiss of a woman who needed intimacy from someone who understood her. And tonight that man was Scott.

The song tapered off, and a faster tempo began. Scott pecked her lips twice and suggested they move to the sitting room for privacy. Taking her gently by the hand and walked into the dimly lit room. There was another couple seated on the large plush sofa in an adjunct corner but they left within minutes of Scott and Monica’s arrival. They sat and don’t talk for very long before they were kissing again, more sensually this time, their lips sliding together, his tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her, his fingers running through her hair softly, as the kiss becomes more passionate. Suddenly, he pulls away.

“I want to apologize, again, for Courtney’s behavior.”

Who the hell is Courtney? Oh yeah, that bitch. Monica frowned disappointed that he’d interrupted her face-sucking time for BS. “You don’t have to apologize. Like you said, you never lied to me. I knew you had a girlfriend when we first met.” She tried to kiss him again but he leaned away.

“It was over between us but we were still living together.”

Monica sat up, clearly frustrated but trying not to appear so. She placed a kind hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, are you seeing her now?”


“Are you seeing anyone now?”

“No.” He smiled. “I can’t believe it’s been almost since we’ve spent time together.” He pecked her lips. “I’d do anything to make it up to you.”

Monica could feel each part of her body ignite as he eyed it. “Anything?” She felt his hand slip slowly along her inner thigh, surely he would stop but he continued until his fingers brushed against her panties. “Be careful what you say.”

His words came smooth and purposefully between kisses. “Monica, I would do anything, anything you wanted, to make it up to you. Anytime, anyplace.”

Just as she was giving in to him, she heard a door open, suddenly remembering they weren’t alone and who she was. She couldn’t carry on in someone’s house like a common harlot, these were potential clients. “No,” she whispered, “Not here, too many people. I live in Smyrna; you’re in Buckhead...shit!”

“What’s the problem?”

“I can’t wait that long. Look, I have goose bumps,” she giggled holding up her arm for inspection. He kissed it. “Can you still do that thing with my G-Spot?”

“Baby, I told you. I’ll do anything you want.” He lips found her neck while his finger found her clit.

Monica stood abruptly. “Alright, let’s wrap this up. We gotta go.”

Back at her place, it didn’t take them long to get out of their clothes and into bed. She was a vision laid before him and he savored every inch of her. From head to toe, his tongue worshiped her. Slowly, seductively, his kisses burned a trail down the center of her body, as she lie back on the soft pillows, surrendering and arching to meet each soft kiss, and each lap of his tongue. His hands slipped down the inside of her thighs, parting them. She looked down at him for a moment, her face a picture of lust, watching as his tongue traced over her shaven mound.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he nibbled her inner thigh.

“No,” she said breathily. “Take your time…oh!” managed just before he drug his flattened tongue slowly upwards, and gently teased the hood of her clit back with his fingertips. Gingerly, he opened her lips and ever so sweetly eased her clit between his lips and patiently sucked her into silence. She gasped a little as his tongue flicked slowly and sensuously around her clit; his fingers wandered down to her pussy and stroke her. There she lie with one of the most beautiful men she’d seen, with his face nested between her thighs and the deliciously reverential sounds of his mouth making love to her pussy filling the room. It was too good to be true. “Please...Scott,” she whispered and fell mute, anticipating his next move. His tongue circled her clit softly and moved further down to her slit until it played between her wet, pouty lips, licking until he felt them part around the tip of his tongue. He lapped at her greedily. She took a handful of his hair. “I’m cumming!” she screamed, he licked…she panted and he sucked...she surrendered and he grinned and kissed up her naked body, between her open thighs.

Resting was not an option. He couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed the swollen head of his cock between her lips and began sliding deep—back and forth.

“I’m such a whore,” She gasped.