Missy Donovan has the kind of life many women only dream of having - being a stay at home mom, watching her teenage daughter Kayla grow into a great dancer, and getting to go out with her husband of sixteen years, TJ. But not everything is as it seems, when Missy discovers her husband has a secret burning desire - for black women. Missy thinks it will help her husband get it out of his system, when she agrees to setup TJ with an escort to go to dinner with him. But she has no idea what she’s set in motion when she contacts her best friend to arrange a date for him through her escort service.
Cocoa Jefferson has her own set of problems. She’s unemployed, laid off from her job as a school teacher, and doing her best to find teaching work. But the best she can do so far is to become an escort with The Jessica Barbour Agency, where her chocolate beauty is available to the discriminating gentleman - for the right price. She has no problems with hanging on the arm of a white man, because she secretly loves white men. But Cocoa, twisted up in knots because of guilt, won’t whisper any of this to anyone, especially not to her black husband. She just does the job. So when she gets the plum assignment of accompanying TJ Donovan to an afternoon of dinner and drinks at Giorgio’s, she treats it as one more job. But sparks fly when Cocoa meets the handsome TJ Donovan. Sexual sparks.
Missy thinks getting what he wants will get black women out of her husband’s fantasies. Cocoa just wants to get through this situation with her morals intact. But will either woman get what she wants?
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The Favor
Copyright © 2011 Jon Bradbury
ISBN: 978-1-55487-828-4
Cover art by Angela Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Smashwords Edition
The Favor
Tarot: Eight of Wands
By
Jon Bradbury
Dedication
To Victoria, my boo.
Missy
As we crossed the street to the Events Center, I asked my husband, “So, honey, what seats did you get for us?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
My husband looked super-smooth, wearing a black blazer over a grey turtleneck shirt with black slacks, even big black shoes. At age forty, my husband was a dreamboat, a tall blond muscular surfer dude in a suit, just like when we first met.
Certainly the dress I was wearing might have garnered some attention, as well. In fact, several men turned their heads to look at me as they passed by.
Even though this dress was fairly conservative, I had to be pretty brave to wear it. Since it was a halter dress, although the fitted empire waist kept everything secure, I had to go bra-less. Thanks to the Pilates sessions, my breasts stayed in place and didn’t sag, even without a bra on. So, while I wasn’t exactly in the habit of going bra-less, I could do just that, with confidence. At age thirty-six. Eat your hearts out, guys. Now you might think I was trying to show off a little. Maybe I was! I felt pretty. Beautiful. Sexy!
My dress, made of shimmering satin, was chocolate brown, to go with my eyes, and the hem nearly swept the floor. My arms, shoulders, and back were bare. In the front was a plunging neckline, giving anyone who wanted a chance, to see some beautiful cleavage in between the halter straps, if I do say so myself.
Along with the dress, I was wearing a pair of paper-thin ankle-strap sandals with five-inch stiletto heels. They not only made my butt stick out, but made it possible to put my arms around my husband’s neck, who stood almost five-ten, and towered over me. I’m only five-five. Trust me when I say I’ve long since gotten used to wearing five-inch heels.
My dark, lustrous shoulder-length brunette hair styled in luxurious curls was down for once, which hid the diamond stud earrings nestled in each earlobe. To complete the look, I carried a little matching brown satin clutch purse, wore full makeup including lustrous red lipstick, and I was glad about getting my nails done at the salon when I took Kayla to get her hair done. My nails were natural, thank you very much, no acrylics, but I wasn’t above going to the salon to have them shaped.
Like I said - eat your hearts out, guys!
We went inside the glass doors, into the huge atrium, where all the vendors were. The door person scanned our tickets and we went further inside. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of downtown, which looked incredibly romantic with the setting sun turning everything gold.
TJ stopped at a vendor selling programs and bought one for me. It was the size of a magazine, printed on glossy paper. Then we continued crossing the lobby. At the entrance to the show room, we approached an usher, who said, “Hi, folks. Can I help you find your seats?”
TJ said, “Yeah, please.”
The usher looked at our tickets and said, “Come with me.”
TJ took my hand, as we followed the usher into the show-room itself, and around to the far side of the room. I’d heard the first show was sold out, and so I was determined to be happy with whatever seats he’d managed to get - even if it was up in the balcony. I was absolutely thrilled when the usher took us to a small table near the dance floor, where I would be able to see everything! I couldn’t keep myself from squealing with excitement.
I dropped my purse, turned to TJ, and gave him a big hug and a kiss. “Oh my God, honey, thank you!”
TJ grinned a mile wide. “No problem.”
As we sat down, I took a good look around.
The show room was dominated by a large rectangular dance floor, about the size of a basketball court. There were additional small tables lining the dance floor where other couples sat. Behind them were larger tables for small groups. Further behind were regular seats, and a balcony above that. Across the way and at the end on our right were more seats. At the far end on our left was the band. All around the room were long strings of clear lights, hung from the ceiling far overhead, giving the room a soft indirect glow, like candles.
All around us, people were talking and laughing as they found their seats. The excitement level in the room was obvious. Even my husband felt it as we talked about it. In the middle of our conversation, a woman suddenly walked straight across the dance floor towards our table. I thought she was quite brave to do something like that.
Her skin was the color of butterscotch pudding. The line of her jaw and neck looked as if it were sculpted, like her whole face, which was shaped like a heart, with high cheekbones, almond-shaped coffee-colored eyes, a small chin, and a small slender nose. Her lips were exquisitely shaped and plump with lipstick that matched her skin tone. Her entire look was flawless, as if a makeup artist had done it for her. Her pretty french-manicured fingernails were, however, a little long for my taste. Long straight sleek gorgeous black hair framed her face and fell to her shoulders.
She was dressed in a white slip-dress, which stopped two inches above her knees, and what a lucky dress to be worn by a woman like her. Long smooth buttery brown legs and hourglass hips moved the material with the easy precision of a metronome as she walked across the floor. Open-toed sandals with rapier-thin five-inch-high stiletto heels matched her dress, and she carried a matching white clutch purse.
She came right up to our table and said, “Why, Mr. Donovan! What a surprise!” Her voice had a rich, slightly husky quality to it.
TJ rose from his chair and they hugged an obligatory sort of hug. My husband said, “Miss Rae. It’s nice to see you.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you, too! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”
TJ kind of grinned. “My wife wanted to see the show. I just came with her.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, I see.” She looked at me, and I sensed that I was being sized up. Then she said to TJ, “I was wondering if I might borrow you for a few minutes. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
“Can’t it wait? We’re here to see the show.”
I spoke up. “If it won’t take too long, I wouldn’t mind if you go talk to someone.”
TJ looked at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! You two go right on ahead.” I looked at the woman, and smiled at her. “Just be sure and bring him back when you’re done, ok?”
She laughed. “I will. I’m Jillian, by the way, but my friends call me Jill.”
“Nice to meet you, Jill. I’m Missy Donovan. Please call me Missy.”
“And it’s nice to meet you, Missy.”
I put my hand out to shake hers, but Jill stepped around the table instead, and extended her arms, to give me a hug.
Not wanting to appear rude, I stood up to accept her hug. I saw at once that we were the exact same height. I reached out to put my arms around her shoulders, to give her a sort of hug I might give to someone I’ve just met.
Jill slipped her arms around my waist and held me against her. She held me quite close, her hands resting on my back. I found myself smelling her hair, noting the scent of fruit, and liking her skin. Jill had the type of skin that most women only dreamed of having.