Enticing Mr. Wrong - Ch. 17.2

Bonz continued to feast upon Aisha’s loveliness in his blue t-shirt. Though the shirt dwarfed her slender frame, reaching all the way pass her knees, she looked sexier to him right now than all the pictures he’d seen in her portfolio. Well, except for the honey photo. That one was in a class all by itself.

“Did you need anything else?” Bonz forced out over the thick lump in his throat. He held the black towel tighter about his waist.

“Yes.” Aisha nodded. She looked away from the gorgeous sight of him in that towel, swallowed hard, and added, “I need to talk.”

“About what, Aisha?” Bonz asked, staying as far away as he could from that bed. Especially with the heat in his body rising…among other things.

“About what happened on the roof tonight.” Aisha forced her gaze back to him.

“Okay,” Bonz replied, also ready to deal with the silent elephant in the room. “But after I change into something more appropriate first. I’ll meet you in your room in about five minutes, all right?”

“All right.” Aisha rose to her feet and quickly left, as if she was afraid of losing control again. Afraid of snatching that towel away to see what he really was working with.

Bonz exhaled in relief, turned around and went back to take another cold shower. A quicker one this time. When he had a reasonable amount of control over himself again, he went next door.

“Greg, first of all, let me apologize for how I reacted on the roof,” Aisha began when they were both seated on opposite sides of the room. She, on the bed. He, in full pajamas and in the ladder-back chair near the door. “I didn’t expect things to go so far or so fast between us. It threw me for a loop,” she added.

“I’m sorry I pressed you to do something you weren’t ready for,” Bonz replied, extending his own apologies as he accepted hers with a nod. “But you puzzle me, Aisha. I don’t know what you want from me. With the kind of ride you have, you obviously don’t need my money. With the kind of career you have, you clearly don’t have time to have my baby or any other man’s. So what gives? Why try to get to know a guy like me at all?”

Aisha looked away for a few seconds before turning back to him. “You’re right. I don’t need your money and I’m not looking to have a baby any time soon with anybody. My career is too important to me for that kind of responsibility at present. Plus, with new opportunities coming my way every week, a long-term relationship would be impossible for me to maintain, which is why I’m not really looking for one right now, either.”

“I respect that, but you still haven’t answered my main question yet,” Bonz said. “What do you want from me? A street hustler, someone completely out of your usual social circle.”

Aisha’s gaze didn’t waver. “I want your body, Greg. Not your hand in marriage, not your money or your baby. Your body, plain and simple. I’ve wanted it since the night we met. Your occupation has not and does not deter that desire one bit. It didn’t for the first hustler I dated many years ago, either.”

Bonz inhaled sharply. Desire flamed in his eyes. “You could have had my body anytime. Especially tonight. Why didn’t you take it?” His voice was husky when he spoke.

“Because I don’t sleep with men I hardly know, even if all we’ll ever have between us is sex. There are things I have to know about a man before crossing that threshold. Things like if he’s abusive, disease-free, drug-free, and stalker-free.”

So Racker was right after all, Bonz mused. He silently acknowledged the fact that Jarrett might have been right, too, since Aisha only ruled out a serious relationship because she just didn’t have time for one right now. Bonz didn’t even want to think about how he would have responded if she had wanted a commitment from him. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing to know certain things about a potential lover,” Bonz finally replied, satisfied with her answers to his questions. “And for the record, I’m absolutely free of all those things you mentioned.”

“But there’s no way I could have known that in a week’s time,” Aisha replied. “I haven’t seen the results of your last HIV test. I don’t know your personal history with women. Whether or not you’ve ever put your hand on them the wrong way or stalked them at some point in time. Nor have I been around you long enough to know if you get high on your own supply.”

Bonz had a ready answer for her. A truthful answer. “I can produce the results of my most recent HIV test and my last physical right now. I have them both in my top drawer along with a whole carton of condoms. I’ve also never hit or physically hurt a woman in my life. I don’t plan to start now,” he replied. “And my only vices are a few drinks on the weekends and the occasional cigarette when I’m feeling really stressed.”

“And what about the stalker stuff?” Aisha asked, giving him the semblance of a smile.

Bonz grinned, pleased with how well this conversation was going. “First of all, if you really thought I was a stalker, you wouldn’t be here right now. Secondly, for the sake of an argument, let’s examine the main traits of a stalker together to see if I fit any of them.”

Then he began to name those traits:

1. Won’t take no for an answer.

2. Has an obsessive personality.

3. Above average intelligence.

4. Has no or very few personal relationships.

5. Lacks embarrassment or discomfort about their actions.

6. Low self-esteem.

7. Sociopathic thinking.

8. Has a mean streak.

By the end of the list, Aisha wanted to know how Bonz even knew such a list at all. And so well.

“Because I had a stalker-chick once in my teens,” Bonz replied. “She nearly made my life a living hell until she found some other dude to become fixated upon. A dude with a bigger pocket.” He sighed in relief. “I can’t tell you how glad I was to be a lowly, struggling hustler back then since it meant finally getting rid of her.”

“So which of those traits do you have?” Aisha asked, relaxed enough in his presence now to actually lounge on her stomach instead of remaining in an upright position.

“Honestly, probably numbers 1, 3, and the occasional number 8, if I really feel threatened in some way,” Bonz replied, relaxing in his seat as well. “But then again, a lot of people are persistent, have a high I.Q. and can succumb to the occasional mean streak, especially when provoked. Don’t you think?”

Aisha nodded with a smile. “I think you’re right. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking I might lean more towards numbers 2, 3, 4, and 8 myself at times, depending on the situation.” She laughed.

Bonz laughed, too. “But seriously though,” he said, quickly becoming somber again. “If you decide that you still don’t want to go out with me again, I won’t bother you. I’ll let you go your way and I’ll go mine. I only like willing vessels, Aisha. Any woman I got to make be with me, I don’t need.”

“Here, here,” Aisha replied in complete agreement.

With this light-hearted banter setting the tone for the rest of their nighttime talk, Bonz went on to tell Aisha a few other things about himself. Things like the fact that he was twenty-eight years old, an only child, and had no close family to speak of. Bonz also told her that he considered himself a ghetto poet, but couldn’t rap to save his life, and about how he would really, really like to go out with her again.

Aisha couldn’t help but smile at those last two things. She also couldn’t help but agree to start dating Bonz again…after he showed her a few test results first.

© 2005 by Suprina Frazier

I’ve included a link below, if anyone wants to learn more about the traits of a stalker. I had one once and so I know that it is NOTHING to take lightly. Please be informed and beware for your own protection (as well as for your loved ones):

http://www.esia.net/Common_Traits_of_Stalkers.htm