The cold rain fell in torrents as I stood beneath the blue awning. With the raindrops beginning to sound like music above my head, I raised my hands towards my face to wish the rain away. A continuous wall of rainwater splashed against the heels of my shoes, as I counted the rhythmic tone of the rain against the awning. “But nothing is forever,” I murmured under my breath. I saw a faint glimmer of sunshine slip through the amorphous grey clouds. With this fortuitous sign, I came closer to going back home.
Earlier, I had a taste for a mocha latte with extra whipped cream. It was my favorite sweet addiction. Thinking I could beat the storm, I foolishly walked to the Sweet Obsessions Café to satisfy my insatiable craving for something sweet.
Well, I was almost right. I made it to the cafe without spotting a cloud in the sky or a drop of rain. Feeling lucky, I relaxed in one of their lounge chairs and enjoyed a small mocha latte with a dollop of whipped cream and a smidgen of apple pie. As soon as I stepped out of the café, the monsoon arrived, and cornered me beneath this stupid awning. Two blocks from my apartment with no damn umbrella, I was stuck there looking at the rain.
As I watched the relentless rain pour down in sheets, I realized that my cravings were officially out of control. I lied earlier. It was actually an enormous slice of apple pie a la mode, and a super grande mocha latte with a half a can of whipped cream. In my defense, it was extremely good. Grudgingly, I'd be the first to admit that my appetite for sweets had officially spiraled out of control.
As I watched a couple steal a lingering, romantic kiss beneath a gigantic umbrella, I realized that my addiction for sweets was merely a substitute for what I really wanted and needed. A damn man! And with Valentine's Day approaching quickly, I knew I had to do something about it. If not, I'd probably eat my way into a sugar coma by February 14th.
“How the hell could this happen? I'm young, I'm beautiful, I'm sexy, and I'm smart. The world is my oyster and I love oysters,” I said to the pouring rain.
All of that was true, but there was just one tiny problem. I forgot to mention that I was also celibate. In fact, the thumping in my pussy quickly reminded me that I'd been celibate for exactly 1 year, 2 months, 3 days, 12 hours, 45 minutes, and 25 – no, 26 seconds!
It’s a sad truth that I, Serenity Champagne, was a desperate woman in dire need of a man. Not just any man, mind you, but a tall, dark, handsome, scrumptiously delicious, and vanilla chocolate-coated, raging, hard man. Yes! I needed a man in the absolute worst way, and his name was Jonathan Bryant Knight. Those Knight twins were two fine interracial brothers. I was told they were the products of a White Irish mother and an Afro-Venezuelan Father. They had hair the color of toasted almond and sexy light brown eyes with flecks of gold.
Jonathan owned Knight and Knight Fitness Center, a family-owned business he shared with his identical twin brother, Jason.
Let me pause right here to say that the Knight brothers were, hands down, two of the finest physical therapists who've ever laced up a pair of sneakers. I met them 6 months earlier when I joined their gym with my best friend, Shauntay. She was trying to lose 25 pounds of post pregnancy baby fat. I, on the other hand, needed to lose at least 40 pounds of regular old fat.
Trust me, there's a high price to pay for substituting sex with sweets, and I was paying the price for it. After 6 months and a river of sweat, I was a little under 20 pounds from my normal weight – or what everyone else deems normal. Naturally, Shauntay had lost her 20 pounds and was back to her pre-baby weight. She looked and felt great!
Now, I wasn't mad at her, because she worked hard to get back in shape. And even though I was still heavier than I would like, men found me sexy as hell. My fat somehow settled in all the right places to push each and every one of their hot buttons. But I was still painfully celibate and the only hot button I really wanted to push belonged to Jonathan Knight.
Jonathan, Jon for short, was a tall, malted milkshake that stood roughly six feet, three inches tall. He was a handsome, sexy brother with soft, silky, wavy hair, and smooth butternut skin. Did I mention he had thick, black wavy hair? The kind of hair that makes a woman want to reach out and run her fingers through it while he makes love to her.
Naturally, his twin brother, Jason, was equally as fine, with a similar muscular build. The only difference was that he had long, thick dreadlocks that hung midway down his back. Honestly, dreadlocks never appealed to me, but when they were on a succulent piece of vanilla chocolate like Jason Knight, I'd make an exception for his almond-colored locks any day.
Yes, those Knight boys were exceptionally fine. Don't judge me, but I must admit that the thought of being the meat in a hot, Knight sandwich had crossed my mind a time or two. What's the point of being a woman, if you can't fantasize about a man or two? Besides, if you knew the Knight’s, you’d probably think the same damn thing!