Damian surveyed the room. Dressed in an Italian cut, black three-button tuxedo made from Merinos faille wool with double satin besom pockets, he cut a dashing figure. The moss green vest, matching bow tie, and pocket-square served to bring out the green in his hazel eyes. The Crystal Ballroom at the Knickerbocker Hotel was filled with the local movers and shakers of the corporate world. Quite a few dignitaries from across the country were in attendance as well. The sheer gold accented opulence of the room bespoke of the importance of the evening.  Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the arched ceiling above.  Each table was covered with a white linen tablecloth and adorned with a four feet high floral centerpiece. 

     He took a sip of his Bombay Sapphire martini and noticed a group of associates he hadn’t seen since the last big social event. He wandered over to join in the conversation. After greeting the familiar faces and being introduced to a few new people, he joined in the usual political debates. At affairs like this one in support of the United Negro College Fund, the issue of affirmative action was always a hot topic. Damian was in the midst of expressing his opinion when his eyes fell on a stunning woman walking between the tables on the far side of the ballroom. He paused only briefly, and then continued to make his point. A mental note was taken of a midnight blue gown and long wavy brown hair and a task assigned to follow up and seek her out at a later time. Damian’s mind worked like an expensive day planner. 

Trevor joined the group. He was similarly attired in a black tuxedo, but chose a spread collar shirt with a graphite gray silk tie and matching vest. He’d spent the last forty minutes or so networking and making a few new contacts. He was eager for the dinner to be served so he could make his excuses and leave. 

     Both were oblivious to the stares of the women across the room for which they were a hot topic of conversation. Fine, Black, financially sound, eligible bachelors were a rarity.  Damian and Trevor were chocolate and caramel twin towers of male perfection. Their clothing alone let women know these Brothers had class and money. Damian had a smooth milk chocolate complexion, perfectly aligned pearly white teeth and hypnotizing hazel bedroom eyes. He was six feet four inches of rock solid muscle carrying a very trim two hundred and forty pounds.  Trevor was an inch taller and every bit as handsome with deep brown eyes, sloping lids and long lashes. Caramel in complexion with chiseled features, and neatly trimmed mustache, he was a walking, breathing fantasy. Trevor and Damian stepped away from the group to converse privately. Trevor asked Damian what his plans were for after the affair. There was always an after-party somewhere for a select few and Damian always had the hookup.

     “I’ve got a room upstairs and I plan on finding a sweet honey up in here to share it with me,” Damian said smoothly checking out the crop of women in the room.

     “Damn, don’t you ever take a break?” Trevor asked. 

     “I’m thirty-five years old and I ain’t thinking about a break,” Damian said, surveying the crowd once again. “Ah ha! There she is,” he said and indicated in the direction of the woman in the blue gown. “The honey in the dark blue with the long hair.”

     “Have you seen her face yet?” Trevor asked.

Damian darted a quick look at him. “No, have you?” he asked.  He couldn’t imagine anyone with a figure as fine as that wouldn’t have a face to match. He took in the shape of her curvy hips and long legs. She was at least five feet eleven, and her dress dipped daringly in the back exposing smooth pecan colored skin. “But you know now that you mention it. I swear I’ve seen that ass before,” Damian laughed. 

     “Well, you would know better than me,” Trevor replied and shook his head. “It looks like she’s talking to Chantel from the corporate office. Why don’t you go on over and ask for an intro.  I’m hungry so I’m going to find our table. We should be sitting down soon.”

Damian made his way across the room towards the group of women. The closer he got, the more certain he was he recognized this woman’s figure. He stepped up to the group. Deliberately ignoring the woman in the blue dress, so as not to appear obvious, he greeted the administrative assistant for the firm. 

     “Hello Chantel, so nice to see you again,” he said, and reached out and shook her hand.

     “Hi Damian,” she replied. Damian was big fish and no matter how hard she baited her hook, she had never been able to gain his interest. She was curious why he crossed the room to say hello.

     “Are you enjoying your evening?” he asked, then feigning as though he did not realize he interrupted them, “I’m sorry, ladies. Pardon me, I did not mean to interrupt.” His eyes quickly scanned the group, still avoiding eye contact with the woman in blue standing directly next to him. He noted she was wearing a Tiffany fragrance and smelled positively edible.

     He hadn’t moved away and Chantel felt compelled to make introductions. Going slowly around the small group of women she introduced him to everyone. The names went in and out of his head as he shook hands and smiled charmingly, while he waited patiently for her to reach the woman at his side. Chantel stepped in front of the woman in the blue dress and Damian finally turned to face her. Apparently, she hadn’t paid close enough attention to him either. She pegged him to be a rich playboy who was used to women falling over him and maintained her conversation with the woman next to her.  Finally, she turned to look at him as he faced her for the first time. Their cordial smiles immediately froze in place. Agnes’ eyes frosted over and Damian’s eyebrow arched quizzically.

     “Agnes Garfield, I would like you to meet Damian Adams.  Damian is the Regional Sales Director for our West Coast region and Agnes is a tax attorney with Martin and Claymore,” Chantel said and turned her attention back to the group.

     “Martin, Claymore and Garfield,” Agnes corrected, “I made partner last month.”

     “Congratulations,” Damian said politely. He chided himself; he knew her body was familiar, intimately familiar.

    “So, your name is Damian?” Agnes asked with thinly veiled agitation.

     “Yes, it is. May I offer you a drink, Ms. Garfield?” he asked in an attempt to draw her away from the group.

     She didn’t want to have a public discussion with him any more than he did with her. She had a lot of questions and she wanted answers. She agreed to go with him. They walked towards the bar.  They were a stunning couple. He was tall and elegantly handsome.  She was tall, beautiful and statuesque. He placed a hand on her elbow to guide her through the throng of people. She flashed him a quick warning look. 

     “It isn’t as though I haven’t touched you before,” he said quietly. “Lighten up.”

Damian regained his footing a whole lot faster than she did.  When he thought about it, he realized it was only sheer luck he hadn’t run into her before now. She’d been using his services for almost six months. They traveled the same business circles.  He stepped up to the bar and ordered a Cosmopolitan for her and another Sapphire martini for himself. They walked in silence to a secluded corner.

     “You’re a tax attorney?” he asked.

     “You have a real job?” she retorted and took a sip of her martini.

     “Touché,” he said. “You’re looking extremely attractive this evening. Could we perhaps call a truce for tonight?”

     “I’m not sure, Mike. You’ve been taking quite a bit of my money for the last several months. It does not appear you even need it. So why do you do it?” She asked.

     “It’s a job and you’ve been getting quite a bit for your money,” he countered smoothly. “For obvious reasons, you can stop calling me Mike.”

     She stared into his hazel eyes and wondered why she hadn’t noticed before how attractive he was. His smile, when he smiled, was magnetic. He looked extremely handsome in his finery and he smelled very good. She studied the cut of his tux and calculated the cost of the expensive material. He had good taste as well.  

     He was making nearly the same mental assessment of her. When she wasn’t filled with attitude, she was a very attractive woman. He always appreciated her well-formed body, but he was taking a second look now. She usually wore her hair tied up. He liked it down and loose like she had it tonight. It made her appear softer, more feminine. He always thought she was smart, but a partner in such a prestigious law firm he would not have anticipated. He wondered what turned her into such a bitch with men. Why was she so bitter? 

    “Well then, Damian.” She leaned in close to him and whispered, “Tell me what led you into a life of crime?”

     “I’ll tell you. If you tell me why a hottie like you has to pay to get fucked,” he whispered back in her ear.

    She leaned away from him and fixed him with an angry glare.  This was not working. He had an answer for everything. She couldn’t gain the upper hand and she didn’t like it at all.  Maybe she should get up and walk away. Yes, that was a good idea, she thought. Just walk away from him. She remembered the last time she was with him. Looking at him tonight, she reluctantly admitted, she wanted him. She wanted him badly.  Agnes shook her head slightly and took a bigger gulp of her martini than she intended. She gagged on the liquid. Turning away from him she coughed several times. Tears stung her eyes as she fought to catch her breath.

     Damian immediately realized what was happening. He took her drink from her hand and began massaging her back. She wasn’t choking. She had taken in too much air with the drink. A good belch was all she needed. She continued to walk in a circle trying to cough up the excess air. In a few minutes she emitted a very unladylike belch. Damian handed her a glass of water and she took a few sips. She coughed a few more times and then was able to stop.  She smiled at him weakly, embarrassed by the incident. 

    “God don’t like ugly, sweetheart,” he said and returned her smile. He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.

     She dabbed lightly at the corner of her eyes and handed it back to him. “I’ll agree to the truce, for now,” she said. “I have to get to my table. They will be serving dinner soon.” She cradled the water glass in her hands and started to walk away.

    Damian reached out and touched her arm, “I’d like to continue our conversation after dinner.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then replied, “I’ll meet you in the Martini bar later.” She walked away and made her way back to her table. Damian watched her for a few moments and then sought out Trevor at their table.

     Two hours later he was sitting in the Martini Bar nursing another drink, when she slipped onto the stool next to him.  He nodded in her direction to acknowledge her presence, but said nothing. He signaled the bartender in their direction. “What would you like?” he asked her.

     “Just a glass of water with a slice of lime, please” she replied. The bartender quickly prepared her water and set it in front of her. She wasn’t sure what kind of mood Damian was in, because he wasn’t speaking. She thought he would have so much to say after dinner. But he sat there pensively staring into his drink, barely acknowledging her presence. “I thought you wanted to continue our conversation?” she asked.

     He turned in his seat to face her. Allowing his eyes to travel the length of her body from head to toe and settling back in on the deep v-neck in the front of her gown, which exposed a generous amount of cleavage. “Yeah, I thought about it, but then I decided it would be a waste of my time. I don’t feel like trading barbs with you for the rest of the night,” he replied.

    “Oh well, then I guess I’ll be on my way,” she said slipping off the bar stool and reaching for her small evening bag on the counter. 

    His hand closed over hers on the counter. He leaned in close to her so only she could hear him. “I didn’t come here to talk and neither did you. We both know where we plan to end the night. If you want to get started, then I’m ready,” he said, and stood up. He reached into his wallet and laid a few bills on the bar. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her out to the hallway.

    Agnes didn’t care for his assumption. She especially didn’t like that he was correct. Upsetting him now would only result in her going home alone. She really didn’t want to go home yet.  She silently followed his lead.......

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