It was eight in the morning on a Wednesday and I was sitting at my desk sorting through the mountain of mail that had been collecting. While still dealing with the odd sensation in the pit of my stomach that I've had since losing Michelle, I feel rested and refueled. I smiled as I acknowledged how Azmir had had a hand in it.
Atlantic City was nice. We stayed in a beautiful and most spacious suite at the Borgata. The suite was exclusive with a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean. We ate very well and were able to catch a few shows on short notice. We also shopped out there. There were countless designer boutiques that Azmir insisted we indulge in. The shopping was primarily for me as I learned that Mr. Jacobs has a personal stylist who does all of his shopping. To say that I was thrown was an understatement. How much did this man earn that he didn't buy his own groceries or clothes that he donned oh so well?
And about his appealing nature: days and nights alone with Azmir were equally torturing because of my orders to abstain from sex until the end of my next cycle. I still had some time to go. Azmir never attempted anything with me, it was my feverish ass that seduced him. We were able to resolve several 69 episodes to provide much needed release. That man loves my private areas; he tends to them so well. He worked on them as if he were starved. And I enjoyed every bit of it. He’s an extremely passionate lover.
Today would be long, they’d be this way for weeks to come. I had so much catching up to do with patients, records, and housekeeping details. But I was prepared for it. I could use all the distractions available to help me cope.
I was tending to Mr. Saunders' injured rotator cuff when my phone alerted me of a text. It was Azmir.
How's your day treating you?
Busy. I didn't realize the time. I haven't lifted my head since I clocked in. How are you?
Merging and acquiring. What time do you think you'll be done?
I finished up with Mr. Saunders' prescription before returning to his text.
Perhaps 8:30PM. Errrrrrrrrrrr... I replied frustrated by the prospect.
Hit me up when you're walking out. I have someone I'd like you to meet.
Hmmmmm...
Mr. Jacobs, I regret to inform you that I'll be in no mood to exchange pleasantries with a stranger. Can we arrange another time? I hit send as I walk into my next appointment.
I greeted Mrs. Henson and sat at the workstation to view her chart when my phone goes off again.
No. I don't think my pal wants to wait. We'll meet you at your place. Peace.
My place! Why is he bringing a "pal" to my house? What the hell?
“Ms. Brimm?” Mrs. Henson called out.
“Ummmmm...yes?” I snapped back into our conversation.
“Your figure. You seem to have lost weight. What are you trying new?” Mrs. Henson beamed with wonder in her eyes.
Azmir had commented on my weight as well. My clothes were less fitted as of late. He didn't like it, neither did I. But I didn't think Mrs. Henson was being malicious with her inquiry, just curious.
“I've been so busy lately that I haven't been completing the six basic food groups as I should, you know?” I offered as an answer.
She gave a warm smile, “Well, you're still a lovely looking woman, Ms. Brimm. Take care of your youth. It will dissipate before you know it,” she admonished. I gave her a full smile and nodded in agreement.
It was eight fifty-five p.m. when I was turning off my office lights. My stomach had been grumbling, which oddly reminded me to text Azmir while en route home.
As I unloaded the tacos out of the bag, I heard the doorbell. I knew it was Azmir and opened the door. He stood there in all of his 6 feet and 4 inch magnificence towering me. He wore black denims, a black T-shirt, Gucci belt, and black high top Lavins. And there was that coochie creaming smile.
He is sexy as hell. No...no...no! I couldn't succumb to the sexual energy between us. I have to abstain until the end of my cycle that I'm still awaiting.
“You're beautiful...and hungry,” he observed. I wore a pencil skirt, silk sleeveless blouse and was still in my panty hose. But what he was referring to was the taco that I was chumping down on as I answered the door. I blushed in embarrassment. I was starved.