Miasha - Secret Society

“What about you? Where do you stay?” Michael turned the interrogation on me.

“I live in a town house myself, right off of the main line,” I told him proudly.

“Do you have any children?” he asked.

It was funny how men first wanted to know if a woman had children and women first wanted to know what a man did for a living.

“No. Do you?”

“I have a seven-year-old son,” Michael said.

Although I was disappointed, I said, “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Well, he lives in Boston with his mother. My job requires me to do a lot of traveling, so we agreed it was better and more stable for him to stay with her,” Michael told me.

I was relieved. I mean, it wasn’t that I had a problem with children. It was just that I wanted no parts of a man’s baby’s momma drama.

“So, I’m curious…Celess, right?”

“Right,” I answered.

“What made you respond to my ad? I mean, I’m pleased that you did, don’t get me wrong. But it sounds like you have things in order. You shouldn’t have a problem getting a man.”

“If that is your way of asking if I’m ugly, then no, I am not. In fact, I’m very attractive. I would even bet that I look better than any woman you’ve ever dated, including your son’s mother,” I said with sass.

“Ohhh,” Michael said. “We’ll just have to see.”

“What about you, mister?” I teased. “Why did you even place the ad? I think that’s a more desperate move than me responding to it.”

“To be quite honest, I’ve been in Philadelphia for every bit of two years and I have not found one woman that I could see myself in a relationship with. I guess I do sound kind of desperate, then, huh?” Michael chuckled. “No, but really, I’ve been on a few dates, and the women either didn’t click with me or weren’t my type, or one time it turned out that a woman was with me for my money,” he continued. “So I placed the ad. Now tell me, why did you respond?”

“I responded to your ad because I’m tired of picking up men at clubs. Well, that and because another woman offered me sex today as if I had the words lonely and horny tattooed on my forehead,” I answered honestly.

Michael and I shared a laugh at our seemingly desperate selves. We ended up talking for about two hours, getting to know each other better. We ultimately made plans to have dinner the following day. I was anxious to see what he looked like and prayed it was every bit of the six-foot, brown, muscular description he placed in the ad.

It was a beautiful evening. The air was thin. It wasn’t as humid as it had been for the past couple days. Delaware Avenue was lit up and busy. I was dressed in a chic black BCBG shirt and skirt, with black leather BCBG open-toe stilettos and a black Gucci clutch. My hair was pulled back in a bun, and I went modest on the jewelry: some platinum and diamond studs in my ears and a platinum and diamond bangle. I wore a black flower on my neck, so a necklace was unnecessary. I was going for the sophisticated, sexy look. From the parking garage I took the elevator up to Hibachi.

“Hello, reservations for Michael LaBlanc,” I said to the hostess with a polite smile.

The short Asian girl scanned the reservation list. “Yes, right this way,” she said as she led me to a two-person booth in a secluded spot in the restaurant.

Hibachi was casual but classy. It had nice Asian-influenced decor. That night all of the attendees were dressed up and looked wealthy.

“You must be Celess,” Michael said as he stood up to greet me. He kissed me on the hand gently. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I said, smiling.

“I have to say, when you described yourself over the phone, I thought to myself there’s no way she can be this beautiful, but wow, you’re even more beautiful than you described,” Michael commented.

I blushed something terrible. “Thank you,” I said.

Michael was good-looking too, but in a different way than what I was used to. He didn’t have the cute-as-a-motherfucker sexy-ass thug look like O, James, and Darrell, and he didn’t have the mature, handsome look like Tariq. He had an actor’s look. His body was very well maintained and athletic. He had a perfectly shaved head and face. He was just all right in the face, even a little on the unattractive side, but there was something about him, his demeanor, his poise, that captivated me.

“Hello, can I start you two with something to drink?” the waitress asked.

Michael motioned for me to order first. He was a perfect gentleman.

“I’ll have a water for now,” I said, skimming through the menu.

“And you can bring me a flaming volcano,” Michael said.

The waitress punched our requests into a handheld computer and took off.

“You look very nice,” Michael said, looking me in the eye.

“Thank you,” I said redundantly. “You look nice yourself.”

“Thanks. Are you hungry? Because I’m starved,” he said, opening his menu.

We ordered our appetizers and entrées, and before we knew it we were ordering dessert.

“This has been a wonderful evening,” Michael said as we walked hand in hand out of the restaurant.

At that point I was a little tipsy off of the volcano Michael convinced me to order. I was full of laughter and corny jokes.

“An evening full of wonder, yes,” I agreed.

Michael laughed. “I haven’t had a date like this in a long while.”

“You and me both,” I said, stumbling out of the door.

“Where did you park?” Michael asked, holding me up by my waist.

“Valet, the only way,” I said. “Ooh, that rhymed. I should be a rapper,” I added.

I started searching through my purse for my ticket. “I think you had too much of my volcano,” Michael finally realized.

“No, that volcano had too much of me,” I said with sass.

I pulled my ticket from my purse and gave it to the parking valet.

“Are you going to be able to drive home?”

“Better than I’d be able to walk,” I said.

“I think you should let me drive you to my house until the morning. You’re pretty messed up,” Michael suggested.

“Are you planning on taking advantage of me?” I sang flirtatiously as I played with the button on his Polo shirt.

“Not at all. I mean, I’ll drive you home and take a cab back if you want,” Michael said.

“You don’t drive?” I asked, confused.

“Well, I do own a car, but I drive very little. Only when I’m going to Boston or somewhere far from my house,” he answered.

“Oh, ’cause I was about to say, you have to have a C-A-R if you want to be with me.”

“Isn’t it J-O-B?” Michael asked, referring to the song.

“Isn’t what J-O-B?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think I will drive,” Michael said.

I woke up with a pounding headache. I looked around the room and thought I was lost. I looked down at the bed I was lying in and panicked. There was no one beside me, but I wasn’t in my bed. Then it hit me. I was in Michael’s house and oh, my God, I was not wearing my clothes. I started touching my private parts to make sure they were still intact. I was in a pair of oversized shorts and a T-shirt. Who put these clothes on me? I wondered. I jumped up, still scared. Michael couldn’t have helped but discover my secret if he had undressed me. I tried hard to remember what went on, but the last recollection I had was in the restaurant. I decided to hurry up and get out of there, but just as I attempted to get out the bed, Michael came into the bedroom. He was carrying a tray with a large knife sitting on the edge of it. I didn’t look at his face to catch his expression because I was too busy keeping my eyes on the knife. I was nervous as all hell. And all I could think about was him chopping my penis off with that knife. I had to get out of there.