replaced it.
Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.
Bianca noticed a large and shiny pick-up truck behind her in her rearview mirror. She paid it no mind until the driver began to blow the truck’s horn and motion out thewindow with his hand.
Bianca checked her speedometer. She was doing fifty-five. Humph . “Better go around,” she muttered with attitude.
As the truck passed, Bianca noticed a man wearing aviator shades and riding in the back. The man and his pose looked straight out of one of those Ralph Lauren print ads—even done to the chocolate lab sitting dutifully at his side.
The man made Bianca want to do something naughty, like suck her finger or blow him kisses.
Ruggedly handsome, his salt and pepper smooth hair was cut very low. His beard and mustache was more a five o’clock shadow. She knew his hair was prematurely silver because there was no denying the youth and vitality of the man. She figured him to be in his early thirties, and his deep bronzed caramel complexion perfectly suited that beautiful hair. He had strong features. A lighter version of that male supermodel, Tyson.
Bianca wished his shades weren’t in place.
Her eyes took in the black tank he wore and the way it snugly fit his chest and emphasized the steely muscles of his arms.
Just before the truck accelerated and left her behind, the man waved at her before setting his arm atop his bent knee. The move drew her attention to the large tattoo of an eagle on his upper right arm.
“Ooh, come here, you,” she said to herself, waving back with a beguiling smile and a little toot-toot of her horn.
Good girls always loved bad boys, and there was something untamed and wicked about the man that drew her in. “Sexy silver self,” she said in a low voice to herself.
Did he like what he saw as well? She couldn’t helpbut get excited at the thought that he did.
Moments later the truck became a spot in the distance.
“Whew, he was fine,” Bianca moaned, just as she decelerated the car to turn it down the long and winding dirt road leading to the ranch.
The grove of trees lining the road offered enough shade to make one think it was suddenly late evening and not early afternoon. As a child Bianca would play among that blanket of trees, feeling like a princess in her own secret garden. Even when it rained the tree’s branches were so densely intertwined that nary a raindrop broke through to touch the ground.
Then the trees ended. Before her sat her childhood home, the King’s Castle as her father used to call it. The two-story home was an impressive structure. A huge wrap-around porch and so many windows that the sun glinting off the glass looked like the twinkle of diamonds. The navy blue shutters crisply contrasted off the white of the home with the underskirt of the home trimmed in red brick.
The mahogany front door opened and her father stepped out onto the porch, his arms already opened wide. Bianca flew out of the car and ran up the stairs to him. He enveloped her. She clung to his large impressive frame and to a past when there was no distance between them.
Although Bianca hadn’t returned once since she left college.
Although she owned a house in Atlanta just as large as this.
Although she swore to never return if things hadn’t changed.
Her first thoughts were, I’m home .
As Kahron Strong stood in the doorway of his bedroom and looked at the naked woman lying there like she was posing for Playboy , he wondered who he’d have to pay to get a housekeeper on whom he could rely.
This woman laying before was Erika—the fifteenth housekeeper/cook he hired since he moved to Holtsville, SC. He tried everything from the old to the young, male, female, and a few that could swing either way. He always got the same result—they did something to get on his last nerve.
Whether it was stealing, or being disrespectful, or watching more of his digital cable than actually working, or foolishly trying to seduce
Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.
Bianca noticed a large and shiny pick-up truck behind her in her rearview mirror. She paid it no mind until the driver began to blow the truck’s horn and motion out thewindow with his hand.
Bianca checked her speedometer. She was doing fifty-five. Humph . “Better go around,” she muttered with attitude.
As the truck passed, Bianca noticed a man wearing aviator shades and riding in the back. The man and his pose looked straight out of one of those Ralph Lauren print ads—even done to the chocolate lab sitting dutifully at his side.
The man made Bianca want to do something naughty, like suck her finger or blow him kisses.
Ruggedly handsome, his salt and pepper smooth hair was cut very low. His beard and mustache was more a five o’clock shadow. She knew his hair was prematurely silver because there was no denying the youth and vitality of the man. She figured him to be in his early thirties, and his deep bronzed caramel complexion perfectly suited that beautiful hair. He had strong features. A lighter version of that male supermodel, Tyson.
Bianca wished his shades weren’t in place.
Her eyes took in the black tank he wore and the way it snugly fit his chest and emphasized the steely muscles of his arms.
Just before the truck accelerated and left her behind, the man waved at her before setting his arm atop his bent knee. The move drew her attention to the large tattoo of an eagle on his upper right arm.
“Ooh, come here, you,” she said to herself, waving back with a beguiling smile and a little toot-toot of her horn.
Good girls always loved bad boys, and there was something untamed and wicked about the man that drew her in. “Sexy silver self,” she said in a low voice to herself.
Did he like what he saw as well? She couldn’t helpbut get excited at the thought that he did.
Moments later the truck became a spot in the distance.
“Whew, he was fine,” Bianca moaned, just as she decelerated the car to turn it down the long and winding dirt road leading to the ranch.
The grove of trees lining the road offered enough shade to make one think it was suddenly late evening and not early afternoon. As a child Bianca would play among that blanket of trees, feeling like a princess in her own secret garden. Even when it rained the tree’s branches were so densely intertwined that nary a raindrop broke through to touch the ground.
Then the trees ended. Before her sat her childhood home, the King’s Castle as her father used to call it. The two-story home was an impressive structure. A huge wrap-around porch and so many windows that the sun glinting off the glass looked like the twinkle of diamonds. The navy blue shutters crisply contrasted off the white of the home with the underskirt of the home trimmed in red brick.
The mahogany front door opened and her father stepped out onto the porch, his arms already opened wide. Bianca flew out of the car and ran up the stairs to him. He enveloped her. She clung to his large impressive frame and to a past when there was no distance between them.
Although Bianca hadn’t returned once since she left college.
Although she owned a house in Atlanta just as large as this.
Although she swore to never return if things hadn’t changed.
Her first thoughts were, I’m home .
As Kahron Strong stood in the doorway of his bedroom and looked at the naked woman lying there like she was posing for Playboy , he wondered who he’d have to pay to get a housekeeper on whom he could rely.
This woman laying before was Erika—the fifteenth housekeeper/cook he hired since he moved to Holtsville, SC. He tried everything from the old to the young, male, female, and a few that could swing either way. He always got the same result—they did something to get on his last nerve.
Whether it was stealing, or being disrespectful, or watching more of his digital cable than actually working, or foolishly trying to seduce
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