What a floor it was. Chandeliers dotted the ceiling and bathed the room in a soft, almost dim gold light that still managed to be exceptionally inviting. The floor was a rich, dark hardwood and served as the perfect dance area. An exotically designed carpet ran the perimeter of the room. Booths were located there to service dancers and onlookers with drinks and hors 'd'oeuvres. Waitresses, decked in black pumps, tap pants and tuxedo jackets weaved amidst the crowd delivering orders.
Corner booths were twice the size as all the rest. Pitch and Candace spent a few moments marveling over the space. They didn’t linger for long and were soon strolling arm in arm toward the crowded dance floor.
Imani and Roman slid into the booth. Imani absently pushed the wrap from her shoulders while taking in all the sights of the club. She danced in place for a while to the sounds of The Rolling Stones “Jumpin’ Jack Flash’.
“Isn’t this a beautiful place?” She asked Roman.
“Very,” Roman agreed but his eyes never left her.
Imani’s strapless, black jumpsuit left her arms and shoulders gloriously bared. Though the rest of her was thoroughly covered, there was no hiding her generous bosom, small waist or long legs. Her braided hair was trussed up in an elaborate coil that emphasized her graceful neck and the eye-catching gold and onyx necklace adorning it.
“Do you dance?” She asked.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Why not?” She laughed.
“Never had a good enough reason.”
“Am I a good enough reason?”
Roman took Imani’s hand then and rubbed his thumb over the gold ring that circled hers. “You’re the best reason,” he said.
In spite of the words, he made no effort to escort her from the booth. Imani didn’t mind. It was obvious that the booth seats were for more than enjoying refreshments. She could see that many of the other occupants were already engaging in far more illicit activities.
The music had changed. Now, Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour” filled the air. Boldly, Imani moved closer to Roman and pressed a kiss to his ear. She barely had time to sit back before he’d used his free hand to grip her elbow and pull her back to him.
She smiled while they kissed. Elation circulated her veins as her mouth was steadily taken by the deep, possessive strokes of his tongue. She tried to give back what he gave, but failed. The potency of his kiss kept her too breathless, too incapable of doing anything more than receiving and taking great pleasure. She sensed weakness, even in the pitiful way her fingers curled into the neckline of the black shirt he sported with dark trousers.
When he pulled back suddenly, her light touch heated and she drew a fist. “I’m leaving in less than a month, Roman,” her temper spiked and lent a certain ferocity to the reminder.
He gave her a small shake in return. “Don’t you think I know that?” More than temper flavored his voice.
“I want to be with you,” she said.
Sleek, long brows drew in over his deep set gaze. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do,” she countered.
His expression carried more than a trace of arrogance. “Trust me, Princess, you have no idea what you’d be in for.”
“Then show me.”
He let go of her hand, landed back heavily on his side of the booth.
“Roman-”
“The conversation is over, Imani.”
She bristled. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Why do you get to choose?”
“Because I do,” he invaded her space then. “If I wanted you in bed, I’d have you there.”
She seemed to wilt. “You...don’t want me?”
She sounded crushed and Roman winced when he saw her expression. “You’re killin’ me, Imani.”
Concern captured her expression then. “I don’t understand.”
“Imani, your father will see you married to a really good guy. That guy deserves to have his wife come to him...whole,” he rolled his eyes and managed a grin. “Please don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”
She grabbed a wad of his long sleeve when he would have moved. “My husband will have every part of me forever. Don’t I get to have one thing of my own? Just once?”
Roman had no chance to respond-not that he had a response to offer. He was too busy reeling from the reality of some other man having every part of her. Forever. Besides, Pitch and Candace were returning. The couple appeared happy and exhilarated from their dancing.
“JC found us on the floor,” Pitch said. “He’ll be over in a minute to say hey.”
Imani scooted from the booth. “I’ll be back,” she said.
Roman followed, catching up easily. Her rapid steps halted when he moved in front of her.
“Pouting doesn’t work on me, Princess. I’m not your brothers.”
Again, Imani bristled. “May I at least go to the bathroom?”
