Miscegenist Sabishii (8 page)

I gave him a worried look. “Do you think the chauffeur’s going to know what we were doing back here?”

“With the way you were yelling? Yeah.”

“Oh my God!” I said, mortified.

“Baby, it’s not anything he hasn’t heard before.” He handed me a fresh glass of Cristal and we drank quietly listening to music and eating strawberries until the driver announced over an intercom that we had arrived.

Through the tinted windows I saw that we were at the airport.  I looked at Tony surprised.

“We’re at the airport, T!”

“What?!” He exclaimed. “I told him to take us to the bus station!”

I rolled my eyes and then we both laughed. When the driver opened the door, he kept a blank, but polite face.  Of course, I was positive that he had kept the intercom on and had been listening to every moan! I glanced to see if he had a tell-tale erection. He didn’t.

T would not tell me where we were going until we got to our terminal and I could see for myself that were on our way to New York; Manhattan.

My eyes got big. “You’re taking me shopping in New York?!” I squealed and gripped his arm. We boarded after a time and T led us to first class. I’ve never ridden first class before, so it was a treat! The flight attendant brought us nuts and cookies, and then once the curtain was pulled separating us from the rest of the plane, she brought us drinks. I ordered Hennessey on the rocks. T had the same.

“T, I’m having so much fun!” I exclaimed as we soared about the clouds. “Nikki, have you ever heard of the mile high club?”

When the plane landed, there was another limo waiting for us. T had arranged for a series of appetizers to be waiting for us since it was past dinner. There was chicken wings and French
fries, shrimp cocktail and vegetable dip. I am not going to lie; between the two of us, we ate every bite! Sex twice in as many hours makes one ravenous!

The limo took us to the Hilton Hotel of all places! Talk about opulence. The lobby alone was enough to make me want to never stay at another Holiday Inn.

T checked us in. “What about our bags?” I asked.

“They should be waiting for us in our suite.”

“Suite?”

“Oops. I have big mouth. I had them shipped ahead.” He took my arm and we strolled through the lobby; T looking right at home, me barely able to catch my breath because I was so excited!

“T! I can’t believe this…”

“I thought maybe we’d get cleaned up then go out to eat.”

“Yeah, I can use a bath.”

When we got to the room, again I was more impressed than before. Oh my God; fireplace, living room with wet bar, big screen TV and

state of the art sound system. Double doors led to a bedroom in royal reds and golds. A king-sized bed, sitting high up and canopied, was the focal point. The room was breath taking! Our luggage set on luggage holders, champagne, chocolates and roses set on the bedside table. The bathroom made even T whistle. Double vanities, marble, round Jacuzzi already filled with bubbles. I sat on the side of the tub and placed my hand in the water. Damn…It was hot.

We stripped down and luxuriated in the tub together. I was a little tired but there was no way that I was going to let a little fatigue cause me to miss out on the New York nightlife!

We dressed and headed out. It was just after 9:00, but New York never sleeps! Since we weren’t really hungry, we had dinner at a small pizzeria; the best pizza ever! We bought some subway passes and rode up to Greenwich Village where walked around hand in hand taking in the sights and sounds.

“I’ve never had more fun T. Ever. I love this city.”

“I do too. I come here once or twice a year to shop.” He said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to come with someone.”

“I can’t believe it’d be difficult to find someone willing to go shopping with you in New York.” He smiled.

“No…just someone special.” He kissed me lightly.

We headed back to the Hotel and decided to put the champagne in the fridge for tomorrow. The next day I got us up extra early. We had an excellent continental breakfast then I put on my walking shoes and prepared to do some serious shopping.

We hit Harlem first. I must have stopped in fifty stores! T whipped out his platinum card and wouldn’t let me purchase so much as a tube of Mac lipstick using my own money!

When I started thinking that I had hit my limit, he began pointing out things I should buy. The only time he got the slightest bit annoyed with me is when I kept asking him if he was spending too much on me.

“Nikki, I’ll tell you when you hit your limit. I do have a limit in mind, and you haven’t hit it yet.”

Okay…At the hair store, a tear actually ran down my cheek. I bought eight falls that I have yet to see back home! T was so loaded down with packages that we took a taxi back to the hotel.

After depositing our packages, we stopped at a coffee house in lieu of lunch and I saw Tony drink coffee for the first time. He got latte and I had a caramel frappucino.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to another waiting limo.

“How do you do that?!” I screeched. How did he arrange all of this?! He just smiled. He then took me to some of the most expensive stores in New York.

“Are you crazy?” I whispered seriously when I looked at some of the price tags. Hey, I was content shopping in Harlem. He just smiled.

We went to the men’s department and entered a private dressing room. T shopped from a catalogue and a salesman brought out his choices for him to try on. T was a fool for Armani, like I was a fool for fake hair. He found himself two suits that looked so expensive I wouldn’t even peek at the price tag. But damn, did he look good. I refused to buy anything after checking out what he was buying for himself. The only way he got me to agree to allow him to buy something more for myself was by telling me he had tickets to an exclusive dance club and he started dropping names of stars and R&B and rap singers that showed up there regularly.

I bought a tan suede pants suit and matching cap. T insisted on me buying two pairs of shoes to match the outfit; one, a pair of matching suede ankle boots. The second; copper sling backs.

The limo took us back to the hotel once again, and once again, a bath was waiting for us. We were getting frisky in the tub when the doorbell rang. T put on a robe.

“That should be the masseuse. Dry off.” I got out of the tub no longer surprised at anything T planned. How can anyone ever top a weekend

like this?! A table was set up for each of us and

we received a complete massage. It was nice, but it had nothing on what T could do!

Later, a stylist came up to do his hair and my make-up. Since I would be wearing one of my new wigs, she didn’t need to do my hair.

I couldn’t hang anymore; I took T into another room and insisted he listen to me. “T I’m not comfortable with all you’re spending! You don’t

have to do all this-”

“Nikki, I would love to take credit for all of this, but it’s a trade out package.”  A trade out is when we give our clients something they want and they give us something in return.  “I negotiated this package as part of my bonus right in time for Sweetest Day.  So all of this is free; the limos, hotel, romantic dinner for two and massage and stylist.”  He gave me a crooked smile.  “You ruined it, you know.  I could have taken all of the credit.”

I squirmed, embarrassed.  He gave me a suddenly serious look.

“Not many women would have a problem with spending my money.” He said plainly.

I gave him a sincere look. “Those women aren’t planning on keeping you forever.” He kissed
me.

Later, during our romantic dinner, I got up and dug in my bag for T’s sweetest day present. I was so happy that I had spent the extra money on him.

“Happy Sweetest Day, T-baby.” I sat on his lap kissing him.

“What? You didn’t! When did you have time to do this?”

“Back home.” He carefully unwrapped the gift, eyes widening when he caught sight of the watch.

“Nikki…” he looked at me, impressed. “This is some serious bling.” He lifted the watch and looked at the underside. “Platinum! Nikki, you shouldn’t have!” I laughed and hugged him.

“Look who’s talking!”

Later at the club we lived on the dance floor. I saw pro sports players, rappers-- most of whom Tony had to tell me who they were. We even got our picture taken in front of one of those fake back drops that are supposed to look like you’re standing in a nuclear sunset, or on some pre-historic beach.

On our last night at the hotel, T made love to me slowly, making it last hours. I knew that I would no longer prefer the swift, spastic sex of the first few weeks. We had passed a milestone.

We’d gone to New York with a bag each and returned home looking like we’d been traveling around the world!

Remember when I said that you don’t tell your girls too much about your man? Well, when I got home I TOLD!!

TONY

After the weekend in New York I was more convinced than ever before that I wanted to be with Nikki forever. But I felt like a man and woman should date at least 6 months before leaping into such an important decision. Still, I contemplated asking her if she wanted to live together.

I prayed that dinner at the parent’s house would go well. I knew it would hurt Nikki’s feelings if she didn’t find a common ground with my mom. But, regardless, I’d made up my mind that I would not allow their relationship with each other affect me; affect us.

Sunday Nikki was cool and collected as we drove to my folk’s house. She got her period and plus was drained from the hectic weekend. I knew all she really wanted to do was snuggle in bed.

“I hope your mom’s not cooking anything…different. My stomach’s queasy.” Silently, I hoped she didn’t want to be funny and serve squid in ink sauce. Even I was squeamish about that.

When we got to Bond hill I pointed out points of past interest, like where me and my buddies played basketball, the park where we used to get drunk and high, and she remembered the house her favorite cousin and my old friend used to live. I pulled up into the driveway of my parent’s brick two bedroom house. It was small but one of the nicer houses on the street.

“Mom! We’re here!” I entered without knocking.

“Toi?”

“Yes, Mom. I am an only child, remember?”

“Nikki? You here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Yakamoto.” She poked her head out of the kitchen as we entered the living room. She flipped her hand for us to stay out of the kitchen.

“Sit. I bring tea.”

My dad ambled in from the family room where I’m sure he had been watching football.

“Hi Nikki. Nice to see you again.”

“Hi Mr. Yakamoto. How are you today?”

He smiled at her. “Good, wishing for retirement.”

Mom brought out tea and sat it in front of us. “You too young to retire.”

“Tell it to my old bones,” he replied.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked, not recognizing the smell.

“Pot roast.” Dad and I stared at her.

She just returned the look. “What? You not like pot roast? You always cry for American food, now you not want pot roast.” She winked at Nikki. “You like pot roast don’t you, with potatoes and carrots?”

“I love pot roast, Mrs. Yamamoto.” Nikki smiled. Now what is my mom up to?

Dinner went wonderful. Mom asked Nikki a lot of questions about herself; what she liked to do. And Nikki asked Mom questions about living in Japan and Japanese culture. The food was the best. There’s not anything like going to your parents for a good home cooked meal.

After dinner Nikki insisted on helping Mom with the dishes so I was comfortable with following Dad to the family room to watch the rest of the game. I knew that if Mom would just make the effort she’d like Nikki, and vice versa.