Jordan picked up his fork and started stuffing his mouth as well. "I have a couple people going out in my place. Taking pictures and video."
"I'll be okay. I want you to go."
"I go every year and it's the same old thing. I won't be missing anything," he said, licking his lips. "Besides, I would rather be here with you."
"That's sweet." She smiled. "Thanks for everything."
"So, what's new in your life?"
"Nothing much. Same old, same old," she mumbled. "What about you? Planned your next yearly vacation yet?"
"Busy working. You know how that is. Back and forth between the dealership and the car shop," he said, downing his glass of wine. "And yes, me and my crew are going to Atlantic Beach Black Bikers Weekend in a few weeks. It's not really a vacation, just one of the celebrations we attend every year. But, I'm looking at going to Vegas before the end of the summer, at least."
"Vegas? That would be fun!"
"Yeah, plans are still in the works. Once I have the details, I can let you know. The more people we get going the more affordable it will be for everyone who wants to go, so you can tell your friends as well."
"Okay, I'll let you know."
"You found your dream job, yet?" He poured another glass of wine for himself.
"No, I'm still working temp an accounting firm. Why? You got work for me?"
"We have an opening in the finance department at the dealership. But, I don't think that's something you want to do."
"How do you know?" she said, putting her fork down. "What? You don't want me working with you or something?"
"If you want to know the truth, I would rather not mix business with pleasure. I guess that's being a little selfish. If you were my woman, I wouldn't want you working a day in your life for no one, but me."
"Pleasure? Who said anything about pleasure?" She was only teasing him when she said it, but his expression made her believe that he took it to heart.
"You know what I mean. And we talked the other night about what my intentions are with you when we were at that party," he replied.
She ignored his remarks about the special moment they had shared on the balcony of the mansion that night. "Is that not sexist? To assume that all women want to stay at home, cook, clean, and have babies and not work a day in their life."
"That's not what I said. I'm not trying to say that all women should be … slaves to their husbands. I was just brought up to believe that men should bring home the bacon, not women. And now that I'm grown, I still believe that."
"Well, I'm a career-oriented woman, Jordan. If I stayed at home twenty-four hours a day, even with all the money in the world, I would go crazy. Even if I had a husband that made enough dough to support the whole family, I would still want to work and at least do something."
What she didn't want to tell him was that she already had all the money she needed right now and didn't need anybody to support her now or in the future. She closed the container, indicating that she was done with her food.
"You're a smart woman." He put down his fork. His plate was empty. "You only ate half. Not that hungry, huh?"
"Just leaving room for cake."
"Well, let's dig in," he said, getting up. "Where are your plates?"
"In the corner cabinet, closest to the microwave. Before long, you're gonna know where everything in my kitchen is. If that's the case, I'll have to ask you to come back and be my personal chef."
"I'll be happy to be your personal chef. But, I hope you like Chef Boyardee."
She busted out laughing at his comment. "You're funny."
"I'm not playing," he said, seriously. "I can boil water, yes. But anything else complicated is a mystery to me."
"Well, we won't be much of a match, ‘cause I'm not much of a cook, either," she said, watching him cut two slices of cake for each of them.
"Well one of us will have to learn, won't we?"
After they ate their cake, Jordan helped her clean up.
"How's your leg?" he asked, after they had placed the last plate back in the cupboard.
"It still hurts when I walk, but like I said, it's nothing that I haven't felt before," she said, looking down at her feet.
Jordan surprised her by picking her up, cradling her in his arms. He grabbed up the rest of the bags off the counter and began walking towards the couch.
"What are you doing?"
"You'll see," he said, putting her down on the couch. He reached in his bag and pulled out a tube of first aid cream and bandages. "Where does it hurt?"
"My ankle … there." She pointed to her ankle.
He carefully took her foot in his hands and began massaging her foot softly. "Right here?"
"Ooo. That feels good," she said. His hands felt so soft, yet so strong. She felt a sense of security with her small feet swallowed up in his big hands.
"I'm pretty good with my hands."
Oh, yes he was. "You think so?" Annette could think of a few other places she could use his massage. The thought of his hands on her most private areas, sent tingles up her spine.
"You have cute toes. First time I've seen someone wear diamonds on their toes," he said, admiring her toes.
"There not actual diamonds, just little silver sparkles. I just got them done."
"Whatever they are, I like them." He rubbed some of the cream into her ankles as she watched. She didn't want him to stop. It just felt so good. No one, except her pedicurist had ever rubbed her feet. And even now, the sensation she felt was not the same as getting a regular foot massage from the pedicurist. Something about this man's hands smoothing her skin made her whole body respond.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She nodded. He rested her feet in his lap. Her toes accidentally brushed against the huge bulge in his slacks. This time she could see the size of it a little better. The thin fabric of his slacks revealed that he was obviously well endowed. He opened a bandage and covered the small scratch on her ankle. He placed her feet back on the floor and was getting ready to lift himself up.
"You forgot this one," she said, pointing to the scratch on her knee that he had missed.
He smiled. "Oh, yeah?" He pulled her other leg and placed her foot on his thighs where the other foot had been. He ran his hands slowly up the length of her leg to her knee and massaged just below the scratch. She watched as he squeezed a small amount of cream on his fingers and smoothed it over the scratch on her knee. He placed another bandage over that scratch as well.
This time before placing her feet back down, he bent down and placed a single kiss on her knee. "Better? Does anything else hurt?"
"No, almost everything's all better for now," she said.
If he only knew the ache she felt in her body. But, it wasn't ache from the two little scratches on her ankle and knee. It was ache deep down in her loins. An ache that could only be satisfied by release of sexual tension.
"I got some movies," he said, reaching in his bags and pulling out several DVDs.
"Which ones?"
"Just picked up a couple classics from Redbox. I wasn't sure if you had Netflix or anything so I came prepared. I got Scarface, the Matrix trilogy, and American Gangsta."
"I haven't seen Scarface in a while. Let's watch that," she said, lifting her legs on the couch.
"Good choice." He tore the plastic wrap off the DVD and put it in her DVD player. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and stood over her. "Can I join you on this chair?"
"Yeah," she said, moving over and lifting her legs to her chest so that he could sit next to her.
He sat down next to her and pressed the play button on the remote. He pulled off his shoes and lifted them on the couch behind her. "Come here." He gestured for her to come closer.
"What?"
"Come closer."
Annette moved so that her back was rested on his chest. His body was firm and warm. She wanted to stay there forever wrapped in his arms. She felt completely relaxed as she laid her head back on his chest. They talked to each other throughout the movie about the different scenes and about how it was one of the best gangster movies of all time and agreed that Al Pacino was one their favorite actors. They were surprised that they both knew the whole movie, including some of the characters' scripts from beginning to end.
The movie ended and they both watched the credits roll as if neither of them wanted to leave the embrace of the other. She hadn't even noticed that Jordan was holding her hand. He lifted her hand up and stroked her finger where Anthony's ring had been. The imprint from the ring was still there, but the ring was long gone.
"Hm?" It wasn't really a question for her, but he mumbled it as if he was wondering to himself why she wasn't wearing it.