The Heat Seekers
“Thanks, Geren.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, looking genuinely concerned. “You want something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
Geren sat down beside Tempest on the sofa and picked up one of several remotes. “Want the TV on? I don’t have a huge movie collection like you do, but I have cable and a few tapes I forgot to take back to Blockbuster about six months ago.”
“Six months?” Tempest giggled. “I’m surprised they haven’t sent 5-0 out to look for you.”
Geren shrugged. “Naw, they just charged the full price out to my credit card when I didn’t return them.”
“Shame on it all!”
“Instead of TV, how about some music?”
“That’s cool with me. This is your place, after all.”
Geren got up and walked over to a stereo cabinet. Tempest was shocked when he opened the doors. It was packed full of the latest audio equipment, everything from an MP3 player to a rewritable CD player. She noticed they were all manufactured by the Phoenix Corporation, just like the computers in his office.
“You really have a thing for Phoenix stuff, huh?”
Geren pretended like he didn’t hear her and plopped in Prince’s 1999 CD. “You remember this song?” he asked as “International Lover” started pumping through the speakers situated throughout the room.
“Boy, do I!” Tempest giggled like a teenager. “Janessa and I were in the sixth grade, and you couldn’t tell us we weren’t the shit.”
Geren laughed. “Yeah, I remember those days. Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
“You look tense.” Geren walked up behind Tempest, sat on the arm of the sofa, and started massaging her shoulders. “Let me help you relax.”
Tempest was getting into the music and the massage, which was banging, until Geren’s hands slipped from the nape of her neck down to her breasts. “Ummmmmmm, I don’t need to relax that much!” she exclaimed, pushing his hands away.
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nbsp; “Sorry, nothing beats a fail but a try.” Geren looked embarrassed and pulled Tempest back toward him. “I’ll just stick to your shoulders.”
Tempest shut her eyes and let him work the tension out of her. “You have nice hands,” she commented. “Soft for a man.”
“Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone. They might think I’m gay.”
They both laughed. “Naw, no way,” Tempest replied. “I can spot a homie-sexual a mile off. My radar would have gone off the moment I laid eyes on you in the club.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Geren replied. “I was reading this article the other day about men doing other men on the down-low.”
“Hmph, sounds like interesting reading material.” Tempest smirked, glad that someone finally just put the shit on out there. Brothas had always been on the down-low, fakin’ the funk and cheatin’ on the sistahs with other men. In her book, those men were right up there next to the men who deserted their children in the shitty-ass section.
“It was wild.”
Geren started going for the tits again, and Tempest sat up. “I feel so dirty.”
“Why?”
Tempest turned around and eyed him suspiciously. How on earth could he not know why she felt dirty? “Well, maybe it has something to do with all that garbage tumbling down on my head,” she said sarcastically.
Geren fought to suppress a smile. “I see.”
“I know I smell stank. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.” Tempest lifted the front of her shirt up to her nose so she could take a whiff. “Dizammmmmmm!”