Unmasking Charlotte (a Taboo Love series) (5 page)

“He was a black guy…” I start, but Delilah cuts me off.

“Was it Calvin?” she asks suspiciously.

“No, definitely not.
This guy was shorter and not as muscular,” I assure her. “Anyway, I went up to the room with him, and as soon as he shut the door, he grabbed me and tossed me on the bed. He was only being playful but my mind flashed back to DeShawn and I freaked the hell out. I screamed and scrambled for the door. The poor guy was completely confused, he tried to grab me again before I got to the door, and I could see that he wanted to say something, but I was too far gone by then. I shoved him back and ran out,” I admitted quietly.

“So
, what are you saying?” Delilah asks, a bit confused going by the look on her face.

“Ever since the whole DeShawn incident, I’ve only slept with white guys
, and I’ve never had a problem. But I wanted to give this guy a try and apparently I can’t do it. So that’s why I’m staying away from Calvin. Because I know that if I let him near me, I’m going to freak out like I did before. I feel like such a fool,” I say softly.

Delilah reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve been traumatized, but you don’t know for a fact that
you will freak out with Calvin. You won’t know unless you give him a chance.”

“LaL
a, I can’t. If that happens to me with Calvin, and he tells Nick and Parker, I will die of mortification,” I croak.

“Calvin is not that kind of guy, Charlie,” Delilah chides softly.

I wave that away. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not even going to put myself in that position again.”

“Calvin is not DeShawn,” my best friend says, her hazel eyes sympathetic as she looks at me from across the table.

“I know that, my body knows that, but my brain doesn’t care.” I sigh in aggravation.

Delilah nods in understanding. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry LaLa.” I frown.

She gives me a small smile. “I still love you,” she teases.

“Gee, thanks.” I snort and go back to eating my Panini.

When our hour is up, Delilah and I make our way toward the door. I get a refill on my coffee before heading out. I walk out first, my head turned so that I can say something to Delilah, who is behind me. What I don’t see is the guy walking into the coffee shop at the same time. I walk smack dab into
a wall of muscle, knocking me back. My coffee knocks up and pretty much pours straight down the front of my shirt.
God dammit!

I gasp as the hot liquid scalds my skin. Delilah is pissing
herself laughing behind me. I bend forward slightly so that my shirt doesn’t stick to me, and the guy that I walked into is apologizing like crazy. His voice is really familiar, I know that I’ve heard it before. I look up to see Calvin King in front of me, looking distraught.

“Aww
, shit, Charlotte. I didn’t even see you! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing a bunch of napkins off the station next to the door where you can fix your coffee with cream and sugar.

“Other than my skin me
lting off, I’m fine,” I mutter bitterly.

Calvin starts dabbing at my chest with the wad of napkins. He starts just under my chin and works his way down. I don’t even think he realizes what he’s doing, but at the moment he is wiping the napkins over my breasts. The fire returns
, and this time it’s not from the coffee. I snatch the napkins away from him.

“I got it, thanks,”
I snap.

Calvin winces. “Shit, sorry.”

I start wiping at my ruined shirt. There is no way I can go back to work like this. I glance up to see Calvin staring at my chest. I snap my fingers in front of his face.

“Yo, asshole, eyes up here,” I say, pointing to my eyes with two fingers.

Calvin blinks and a slight blush actually creeps up onto his cheeks. Instead of apologizing again, this time he seems obstinate. “Dammit, Charlotte, I can see your bra through your shirt.”

I drop my head down to look at my shirt. Sure enough, I can see my pink lace bra. I curse and glance at Delilah, who is leaning against the coffee station with her legs crossed as she continues to cackle. Wench.

“You need to cover up. Take my shirt, you can’t walk around the city like that,” Calvin says as he starts to unbutton his shirt.

“What? No! Then you won’t have a shirt!” I squawk.

Calvin smirks. “First off, I’m a guy, I can walk around with no shirt, and second, I have on a wife beater. You are not walking around New York City like that so every horny guy can see what you got under there.”

He sli
ps out of his green plaid short-sleeved button down shirt, revealing a massive chest and biceps. He holds it out for me. My eyes rake over him from head to toe. I falter slightly when I get to the front of his jeans. Is that a chubby I see forming? Heat washes up my face. I swallow hard and slowly reach for the shirt, my eyes unable to look away from his incredible body. I put the shirt on and button it up. It’s like wearing a dress, but at least my bra isn’t on display for the world to see. I pull in a deep breath, getting a nose full of his delicious scent from his shirt.

“Thanks, Calvin,” I say gratefully.

“Anytime, Pinky,” he smirks naughtily and winks at me.

I groan at the nickname, but it’s better than him calling me Charlotte, so I let it go. Before I can say another word, I hear a shrill voice call Calvin’s name. Calvin, Delilah
, and I all turn toward the door at the other side of the coffee shop to see whom it is. I hear Calvin mutter a vicious curse. I want to turn to see his face but I’m having trouble taking my eyes off the woman coming toward us. She’s like a mix between Fran Drescher and J-Woww from
The Jersey Shore
.

This chick is wearing high-wasted zebra print leggings with a hot pink half shirt. Her giant fake tits are popping out from the top of it. Her heels are ridiculously high and I have no idea how she doesn’t break an ankle walking in them. Her skin has that
not so cute fake bake orangey glow, her hair is permed, teased and hair sprayed to perfection, and her nails are long and claw like. How does she wipe herself with those things? And more importantly, how does she know Calvin?

J-Woww to the fifth power saunters over, practically shoving me aside as she makes her way toward Calvin. She grabs his face and plants a big disgusting kiss on his lips. I fight back the urge to gag. Gross. Why has he been trying to take me out when it looks like
he has a carrot to fuck?

“Oh
. My. Gawd! Calvin, why don’t you ever answer your phone?” asks Fran Drescher on crack, heroine, and crystal meth. She’s straight up North Jersey, going off of her accent.

Calvin speaks quietly to her and I can’t hear anything he’s saying over the cow chewing and gum
popping just behind me. I grab Delilah, who I think just peed in her pants with hysterics, and make a dash for the exit. Calvin catches my eye before I walk out the door. He seems to be pleading with me not to leave him here. I shoot him a shit-eating grin and mouth “thank you” before following Delilah out the door.

Fucking Murphy and his god damned Law.

Calvin

I gape at Charlotte and Delilah as they leave me here to deal with…I can’t even remember her name…by myself. Okay, so I slept with her in the past
, and it was only two months ago, but still, I could have used some help getting rid of her. This chick doesn’t know how to take a hint. She has been calling and texting me non-stop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I slept with her, I was definitely not in the right frame of mind. She just screams “clingy.” I was drunk at the time, not that that’s an excuse because I still should have known better, but I was horny and she was more than willing. Now, I can’t get rid of her. Karma…that bitch!

I stare at Charlotte’s back and her flowing golden hair as she walks down the street. The sight of her in her wet shirt
is burned into my brain. That pink lacey bra she’s wearing is just…holy shit! I swear I saw a hint of nipple through it. My cock is throbbing in my jeans after seeing those creamy white breasts cupped so lovingly by that pretty bra. Damn, I wish it were my hands. Fuck, I am jealous of a mother fucking bra!

“Calvin!
Are you even listening to me?” says zebra pants, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I slide an irritated gaze in her direction. “No, what is it that you want?”

“I want you to start answering your damn phone when I call. I’m not some whore you can fuck and then toss to the side, ya know!” she squawks.

I close my eyes and sigh heavily. Kill me now. “I told you when we hooked up that I wasn’t looking for a relationship and that it would only be a
one-time thing.” It’s standard practice to explain it in detail when sleeping with some chick I don’t really know.

“Yeah
, well, I’ve changed my mind. I want more, and you will not walk all over me like I’m a piece of garbage. So you better start treating me right,” she says, her North Jersey whiny accent, completely grating on my nerves. Charlotte doesn’t sound like this at all. She has a New York accent for sure, but it is sexy and sultry. She could read me the dictionary and I would be turned on.

“Listen, I don’t even remember your name
. You can forget about getting more from me, it’s not gonna happen,” I stay and turn to leave.

“What? How dare you!” s
he screeches, stomping her foot. “I’m gonna tell my brother and he’s gonna come kick your ass! You hear me?”

I don’t even bother acknowledging
her as I head down the block to my car. Forget getting coffee, I will never see coffee in the same light again. Coffee is only good now when it’s poured down the front of Charlotte’s shirt. Or when I am sucking it off. Or licking. Or biting. Shit, I need a cold shower. She is killing me that Charlotte Fisher. I will have her…and soon.

Chapter Two

Calvin

I’m dragging my feet as I walk up the steps to my parents’ house. It’s always the same old shit every time I come for dinner, and no doubt tonight will be no different. I got so distracted from my run in with Charlotte that I didn’t even stop at the bakery to grab something for dessert like I was supposed to. I’m gonna catch hell for that, too.

I open the front door of the house that I grew up in and step into the foyer. The smell of a home cooked meal wafts through the air and my stomach starts to rumble. It’s probably the one thing that I miss most about living at home, the biggest downfall of living the bachelor life – lots of eating out. Fortunately, I have a great chef at the club who makes me dinner a few nights a week.

My parents have remodeled a couple of times over the years. The
brownstone has a very open and modern look to it, but my mom kept it decorated very traditionally and homey. The walls are painted a neutral brown, and the furniture is all warm tones of browns and beiges. It is very upscale looking, but comfortable at the same time. The perfect balance. Kind of how I like my women. Definitely, how I see Charlotte
. Shit! You are talking about furniture dick weed. What does that have to do with the delectable Charlotte Fisher?

I kick off my
shoes next to the door because my mother would have my head if I scuff up her new hardwood floors. I hear the usual voices in the kitchen and head in that direction, following my nose.

My mother, Dr. Yolanda King, is flitting around the kitchen, preparing dinner as I walk in. My father is lingering close
by, hoping to get a taste of whatever she is making. My sister, Carla, is sitting at the table with my grandfather – my dad’s dad - yakking it up. My grandmother passed away when I was twenty-three from lung cancer. All four of them look up when I enter and I do my best to smile politely. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family to death, but sometimes I just get tired of the nagging.

“There you are, Calvin! You’re late!” My mother starts. “And where is dessert?” she asks, seeing my empty hands.

“Sorry, Mama, I got sidetracked while I was out,” I say as I give her a kiss on her pretty cheek.

She glances at me curiously. “Sidetracked how?”

I smirk. “I bumped into this girl I like, literally.” No point in lying to her, she would know.

She smiles wide. “Oh, yeah? Who is this girl? Do I know her?”

“Nah, she’s a friend of Nick’s fiancé,” I say, shrugging one shoulder dismissively as I turn to shake my father’s hand. He somehow ended up next to me, probably trying to steal a piece of pork from the pork loin that my mom has just placed on the counter.

“What are you, some kind of thug now?” My grandfather huffs as he eyeballs my wife beater and jean
s ensemble in disgust.

“No, Gramps. I gave my shirt to this girl because when I bumped into her at the coffee shop, she spilled her coffee down the front of hers,” I explain.

“So? Why did you need to give up your shirt? Did you even know the chick?” Carla asks, raising an eyebrow in question.

“What the hell? Why am I being grilled about a shirt? Yes, I knew her and her shirt was see-through when it got wet. I couldn’t let her walk around the city with her bra on display for everyone to see!” I snap, completely irritated by this whole conversation.

Everyone stops moving to stare at me in shock. Rarely do I ever lose my cool.

“Damn, Cal, no need to get your panties in a bunch,” Carla snorts.

“Then stop asking me a million and one questions about my shirt!” I huff and sit down at the table.

“You really have a thing for this girl, don’t ya, son?” My dad chuckles, clapping me on the back.

I send him a dirty look over my shoulder, making him laugh. “I like her, yes.”

“So ask her out,” my mothe
r says, as if it’s that simple.

“She’s dating Parker,” I mutter.

“Aw, hell no! You stay away from her!” my grandfather exclaims, pointing at me from across the table. “Never go after your friend’s woman!”

I bite back a smile. “I know, Gramps.”

I help my mother carry all of the food into the formal dining room. It is painted a deep ruby red, similar to the color of my club, and has bright white chair rails with vertical striped wainscoting and matching crown molding. There is a spectacular crystal chandelier hanging centered over the ten-seat teak table. I actually bought that for them. I had it made by the same guy who created my bar top at the club. Unbelievable craftsmanship this guy has. What a talent.

My mother places all of the food on the table and everyone takes a seat – pork loin, asparagus spears, potatoes au gratin
, and homemade cinnamon bread.
Damn, I am going to have to hit the gym hard after this meal
. All is quiet for a little bit while everyone is loading up their dishes and taking their first bites. My sister starts talking about a case she is working on and I tune it out. I’m so tired of hearing about court and cases and snarky douchebag lawyers.

Then I hear something that is worth my attention. While Carla is blabbering to my grandfather, my father speaks quietly to my mother. My father is sitting at the head of the table, I am to his right, my mother is to his left. I keep my eyes glued on my food and pretend that I’m not listening to anyone, but I’m tuned into everything that is coming out of my father’s mouth.

“Remember that case I had about twelve years ago, Yolanda? The one with the young girl who got raped and I had to prosecute her father for beating the shit out of her attacker?” My dad murmurs quietly.

“Mmm hmm, how could I forget?” My mother muses softly between bites of her food.

“I just heard that the piece of shit may be getting out soon, actually a year early for good behavior,” my father growls. I can clearly hear the disgust in his voice.

I risk a glance at my mother to see her staring at my dad, her lip lifted in a silent snarl. No words necessary. She obviously finds it as disgusting as my father does. So do I, but I’m not supposed to be listening to their conversation, nor am I supposed to know anything about the girl they are talking about.

“…I need a pimp’s opinion…Calvin? Are you listening?” Carla asks, breaking into my thoughts and parents conversation.

“Carla,” my mother hisses.

“Huh?” I reply, sending a bored glance her way.

“I said I need a pimp’s opinion. Are you available for comment?” She teases, nudging me with her elbow.

“Is that supposed to be funny or something?” I snap, completely fed up with everyone and their fucking comments about my career choice.

Carla’s smile falters and she glances around at everyone before looking back at me. “Uh, yeah, Cal, it was just a joke,” she says uncertainly.

“Well, ya know what? That shit’s not funny anymore!” I bark and stand up.

“Come on now, Calvin,” my father says, holding out his hand to try to calm me
down.

“No! I need all four of you to listen to me right now! That case that you were just talking about with mom is the reason I dropped out of law school,” I say, looking my dad square in the eyes.

He frowns. “What?”

“You heard me. I dropped out of law school because of that case. Because of that girl. Not because I want to be a pimp
. Not because I am a pervert or a sex addict. Because of that case,” I say emphatically, making sure that I got my point across.

“I don’t understand, dear,” my mom says quietly, her eyes questioning me further.

“I heard you that night, the night that you came home and were in your room telling mom all about that horrific case. How horrible you felt for having to prosecute her father.”

“But you went to law school after that happened,” my father responds, confused.

I nod. “I know. I still thought that I was going to be a lawyer at the time, make some kind of difference in society. That is, until I actually had to study the case. Then the reality of it all hit me. Up until then, I told myself that it was just a story. That a person could never treat another person like that, that a man would never treat a woman like that. But that kid, that kid was a disgusting animal,” I spit bitterly.

Everyone is quiet. Probably stunned silent, so I just continue. “That’s when I decided to drop out and open the club. I wanted to create a place where people could go to do their thing, consensually and anonymously, and hopefully, possibly, prevent something like that from happening to another woman or girl. I mean, I take every possible precaution to ensure the women’s safety, and the men’s, too, for that matter. I do background checks on all new members and anyone with any kind of criminal or violent background gets rejected.”

Once I finish, I take a deep breath. If feels so good to let out something that I have been carrying around for so long. I feel the weight lifting off my back.

My parents gawk at me for the longest time before my mother speaks up. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I guess I thought none of you would understand.” I sigh and scrub a hand roughly over my face.

“Sit down, Son. Finish your dinner,” says my father in a tone that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I look down to see him watching me, his eyes sympathetic, understanding, and proud. He nods and I lower myself back into my seat. Not another word is spoken. And really, nothing needs to be said, everything is right there in my father’s eyes. When I look at my mother, it is in her eyes, too. They understand now why I chose the path that I did and they are proud of me for it.

I glance over at my grandfather. He gives me a nod of acceptance. I breathe another sigh of relief as the last weight that I didn’t even know was there lifted off of my shoulders. Conversations start up again, this time any
thing having to do with work left out of it. Football, Carla’s dumbass boyfriend, and my grandfather’s thoughts on kids these days were the main topics.

Since I forgot to grab anything for dessert – I blame Charlotte for that - my mother pulls out a package of Oreo cookies that she has stashed in the cabinet. We all sit at the dining room table with a glass of milk and a stack of Oreo’s, moaning and chewing away at the delicious treat. This may be the first dinner at my parents’ in years that I have actually enjoyed pretty much the whole way through.

After staying and chatting for a little while longer, I make my rounds, saying goodbye to everyone. My mother gives me a big hug and kiss, and whispers that she is incredibly proud of me in my ear.

I shake
my grandfather’s hand, give Carla a playful punch in the shoulder, then go to my dad. He pulls me into a hug.

“I love you, Calvin. You know that, right?” My old man whispers.

“I know,” I murmur in return.

“You did good.”

“Thanks, Pops,” I smirk as he lets me go. “Hey, don’t forget poker night.”

“Hell, no! I would never miss the chance to take Nick’s and Parker’s money.” My dad laughs.

I chuckle and say one last goodbye before heading home.