Love Lost

There was a knock at my door. Sharon came in with a young, smart looking Caucasian woman wearing a pinstriped skirt suit with wide pale legs and blue flats. The rectangular frames of her glasses fit her facial structure well.


"Ms. Brimm, this is..." Sharon turned to the woman.

"…Mya Dolson," the young woman helped her out with a sharp and cold tone.

Michelle spun her body around to the two women at that curt correction.

"Yes. Mya Dolson from Klien Medical Center. She has parcel that could only been delivered directly to you." Sharon looked flustered. She was very much like me in that she didn't like surprises. She's authorized to sign off on all of my mail.

"Ahhh...okay?" I gave noncommittal shrugged. I was caught off guard.

Mya spoke up. "We typically don't share such sensitive information at Klein Medical Center, but a client insisted that it came directly from our office to your hands." She handed me a large manila envelope with the word CONFIDENTIAL plastered all over it.

"Sign here." She tendered a confirmation of receipt form. I did as she asked.

"Good day, ladies." Mya left my office with Sharon on her heels but not before Sharon giving a strong rolling of the eyes at Mya's obscure visit.

"What the hell!" Michelle exclaimed adjusting the glasses on her face.

"I'm not sure," I said before tearing into the large package with an envelope knife.

After scanning the first sheet I immediately located Azmir's full name and then saw formal names of various diseases, all STD's I presumed. "NEGATIVE...NEGATIVE...NEGATIVE…" was typed in all corresponding columns.

"Shit!" I bellowed out as I went through the small pile of papers.

"Well?" Michelle demanded, clearly on edge.

"Apparently these are Azmir’s STD test results."

"Fuck. Does he get tested for Ebola and the fucking measles regularly, too? That's quite a stack of papers!" It was obvious that she was just as perplexed as I was.

"No. Each sheet represents a test year. They go back eight years with his latest test being…” I shifted anxiously through the papers. “…three weeks ago."

"Holy mother of god!" Michelle breathed out.

"Yes! And according to these dates, he’s tested every six months almost to the week! Shit. Do I now feel outdone." My jaw dropped. I was in awe as I read over the papers. I saw his full name, age, height, weight, and date of birth among other sensitive tidbits.

"Well, you'll be fucking and sucking a sterile man...not in terms of reproduction of course," she quipped.

"Well, I'll be damned!" I gave a loaded exhale being just as silly as I went to grab my cell to text Azmir.

I received your sexual history reports minutes ago.

Seconds later, as Michelle was packing up to leave, my phone pinged and read,You're clean. I'm clean. Now we can get dirty - officially.

I felt a salacious pulling in my belly. This man had me going.

All in due time, Mr. Jacobs...all in due time.

Indeed.He texted back his signature closing.





Chapter 9


Rayna

The big day was the first Saturday in June and that date was just around the corner. Petey got back in touch with me about the party and put me in contact with the party planner they had hired. I had Jimmie speak with her about the arrangements. She explained that she wanted my performance to include the rapper. From what I understood, the dance wouldn’t involve him at all but he would have a hand in the performance. I sighed with relief. I am no professional.

I rehearsed at Cobalt the week of the party. I wanted to make sure my game was tight. I also made plans for my time with Azmir that night after the party. I conspired with Petey and was sure it was difficult for him to blindside his dear friend. There were formal invitations going out and I was sure that Azmir could easily make subsequent plans with other friends or acquaintances. Our plans worked hand in hand in throwing Azmir off and pulling off that element of surprise. Azmir was to think that a celebrity friend was renting out the club for that night. As the time passed, I grew more excited about the big night and not just because of the party. It was the after-party I was preparing for.

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