Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility)

“Is he in here?” I asked, walking towards Azmir’s office.

“Uhn-huhn,” she eagerly and politely confirmed. Once at the door, I knocked. I didn’t want to just barge in. No matter what Azmir and I had going on, he was a respected businessman first.

“Yeah!” Azmir barked, sounding annoyed. My eyes bulged and lips pouted rapidly in response to his curtness.

I slowly opened the door with apprehension. I never attempted to be overly-familiar with him in his places of business. As I walked in, within seconds, I make eye contact with him. He’s sitting behind his desk with his back straightly aligned. Azmir, while as gorgeous and alluring as ever, looks stressed, very rigid. He visibly registers my identity and immediately looks relieved. A strong exhale escapes through his mouth. I guess that means he’s happy to see me. All tension leaves my body. I close the door behind me.

“Hey...” I say with concern.

“Hey yourself. I’ve been trying to call you for the past thirty minutes. I was beginning to worry,” he’s partly scolding me. “Come here,” he gestures with his hand and a loose and rapid wave of his arm. He isn’t wearing his typical coochie-creaming smile or panty-snatching smirk. I’m concerned.

I pull out my phone to check it as I walk over to him. Sure enough, I’ve missed three calls from “A.D.” I hold up my phone, showing him. “We’re all downstairs waiting for you. I know you’ve been excited about tonight!” I say with sheer excitement. Even I’ve built up anticipation after experiencing the energy from down there.

Azmir pulls me into him until I collapse on his lap. He wraps his long and comforting arms around me. In a natural response, I pull my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my neck. His breath against my skin brought those trustee currents through my body. A sensation I try extremely hard to fight off, feeling it being inappropriate. Something is wrong.

“Heeeeeeeeeey,” I whisper. “What’s wrong?” I pull up with my index finger from his chin so that I can look into his beautiful face. He softly exhales again and I am overtaken with yet another current as his breath hits my face. My eyes close to let it pass. What in the world does this man have on me that causes my body to respond so lasciviously to him? He quickly catches on to my reaction and in response he looks at me with a slight squint in his eyes.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah!” Azmir barks again.

The receptionist girl opens the door and I freeze. Azmir and I are in a somewhat compromising position. I squirm in his lap, prepared to get up. He grips and pins me to his lap, telling me not to move.

“Yeah, Molly?” Azmir inquires of her presence. I then notice that Molly is a cute, young, butch girl. She wore pinstriped slacks with a chain in the belt loops and white, short sleeve T-shirt. Her classic black and white Converse sneakers were sloppily tied. And her multiple piercings and forceful husky voice sealed the deal.

“Mr. Jacobs, Ms. Taylor wants a word with you,” Molly muttered, and before Azmir could answer, Dawn swings her head of bouncy curls in the doorway followed by her small frame that was draped in a red fitted, midi length, full sleeved dress, matching her lips. When she notices me and registers my position on his lap, she suspends in motion. Dawn quickly catches herself and retracts her steps outside of the doorframe.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were preoccupied. I’ll just wait until you’re done,” Dawns spoke apologetically. I can tell the last thing she expected was seeing me perched in his lap. I feel a twitch of victory deep down. Azmir never utters a word to Dawn.

He really is in a foul mood.

“Is there anything else, Molly?” he bit out.

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