At 11:55am, Elle sat straddle a bench in the ladies locker room at Blast Sports Club tying the laces on her gym shoes. She’d been stuck here for the past ten minutes; working to calm her excitement at having Kinte close to her again.
She lingered, exploring the source of her fascination. He was remarkably easy to be around and ‘slap-yo-mama’ sexy. But it was something beyond the obvious that captivated her. The mass of brawn and swagger aside, he possessed a tenderness that she had never known in a man. This was the origin of his charm; unexpected gentleness wrapped in a package that suggested thug. Upbringing aside, it seemed Kinte was a born nurturer and Elle adored being on the receiving end. But loving it too much was something she intended to avoid.
Willing her way out of the locker room, she made a beeline to the last stair climber in the last row, way at the back of the gym; as if she could somehow hide and unclear about why she felt the need to.
Looking up, she saw Kinte at the front of the gym. He was glancing at the row of machines where she usually warmed up, craning his neck, and apparently searching for her. After spotting her, he walked in her direction and gazed up at her face.
“What you doing way back here?” he asked, as a smile broke open.
Elle shrugged and bit her bottom lip.
“Come down, crazy,” he said.
She pushed the stop button and he reached for her hand, helping her down.
“Hey you,” he said, as their eyes met. Elle felt an intense desire to wrap both arms around his neck and pull him close. She resisted.
“Why the hell you all the way back here?” he asked again.
“So you would have to look for me?” Elle said, catching his eye from the corner of hers.
He grinned and brushed against her shoulder. “I don’t mind looking,” he said then leaned back as if to study her entirely.
She smiled wide but suppressed the flightiness that swirled beneath.
“C’mon cutie.” He grabbed her hand while they walked towards the boxing ring in the left rear corner of the space. “How's your morning?” he asked.
“Improving,” she replied, glancing down at their fingers, interlaced. Kinte tickled her palm with his thumb.
“Hey…you’re not wearing your official Master Trainer's shirt,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “I missed my work out this morning. One of my clients got the dry heaves and passed out.”
“Oh my God, is she alright?” Kinte had no male clients.
“Yeah, she's cool…but it was intense. The ambulance came, I rode with her.” He shook his head. “She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday — the woman had no fuel.”
“I’m glad she's OK.”
“Me too,” he said. “So can we train together today? That's why I’m in work out gear. It's your hour and if you’d rather not, that's cool.”
“No, it's fine,” Elle said. “But look,” she stopped and grabbed his arm with her free hand, “God knows I’m not interested in puking or passing out.”
Kinte laughed. “I got you, baby.”
They headed to a small, roped-off section next to the boxing ring filled with specialized equipment.
“We’ll do complimentary sets,” he said. “I’ll adjust yours accordingly.” He paused to pick up a beach ball-sized ring with handles on each side and passed it to her, adding, “When we’re done, if you have time…let me take you to lunch, sort of a trade for sharing your session with me?”
Elle grinned acceptance. She couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the next few hours.
As always, Kinte guided her through the movements and machines. First he set her up, explaining motion and form then stepping aside, he began executing a separate task on his own. They’d switch and he’d modify the task to her ability. Still he paid careful attention to her, offering verbal direction while he was working; even occasionally stopping to correct her form or assist when she was faltering.
When the session ended, they went to the locker rooms for hot showers and a change of clothes. Elle was glad she’d stuffed cute jeans and a gray cashmere sweater into her gym bag, instead of her usual warm-up.
Meeting in the lobby, they walked to the parking lot, engaging in small talk while Elle, without thinking, confessed to having eaten two cheeseburgers with fries over the past week.
“What?” Kinte said, frowning. “Girl, you better stop messing with my masterpiece.” He bumped her playfully with his elbow. “In that case,” he added, “I’ll choose lunch. I know a place downtown where can get some serious turkey burgers. Sound good?”
“You said you were choosing,” Elle teased. “So choose.” Just then the lights blinked on a Black Cadillac Escalade parked some ten yards away. She stopped to look at him. “Now that's a whip that suits you!”
“I like caddies,” he said, while following her around to the passenger side, opening the door and helping her in. Elle tried to remember the last time a man (who wasn’t a parking valet) had bothered to open a car door for her.
Once the engine was running, he drove for about a mile then pulled his SUV into a parking lot on LaSalle Street, right next to the pub English. Elle hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, and was altogether surprised when they arrived. English was her favorite turkey burger joint bar-none. More startling, it was her usual burger and martini spot with Darien. At once she thought to suggest a different restaurant, anxious because they were just a few short blocks from Darien's office, which meant there was a realistic chance of him showing up. But Elle had asked Kinte to choose and she didn’t want to supersede him. Besides, did she really plan to adjust her comings and goings with an eye on where Darien might be or what he might think? Hell to the no!
Now inside at the hostess’ podium, Kinte was asking a tall blond in a crisp tartan jumper for a window table in front when Elle touched his arm and suggested that the window tables upstairs had better views.
“Upstairs then,” Kinte said and nodded to the hostess.
Elle was willing to take a risk, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew that the upstairs bar and dining room was way less populated during lunch, and that she and Kinte would enjoy more privacy. Plus the restrooms were on the lower level, so if by some cruel twist Darien happened to show up, the odds of him coming upstairs were slim to none.
The pair climbed the stairs and was seated at a corner pub table flanked by windows. The hostess provided menus and said Roman, their server, would be with them momentarily.
Kinte peered across the table. “So you’ve been to this spot.” It wasn’t a question.
“A time or two,” Elle said, avoiding further explanation.
Then a tall slight man sporting a bald head and pencil thin mustache approached. “Good afternoon, my name is Roman.” He paused to set down glasses and fill them with water. “I’m your server today.” Then he rattled off the specials before taking their order of turkey burgers, sweet potato fries and pomegranate infused ice tea.
Kinte drank from his glass then spoke, “So Ms. Elle…” he grinned, “here we are.”
“You know,” Elle began, then sipped her water, “I think you’re gonna have to stop calling me Ms. Elle.”
He laughed. “Fair point…so what's been up since I last saw you? How's the thing at work?”
Reality barreled back. “There's progress.” She shrugged. “I’m planning to meet the General Counsel…he's the corporation's head lawyer. Based on the research I’ve done, I’m guessing he’ll see me… but after that, anything could happen.”
“What's your end game?” Kinte asked.
Elle shared the details of what she wanted, then shook her head. “Even if they give it to me… I’m just, feeling some kind of way about the whole situation. I’ve been at this corporate thing for so long, I mean…so many bullshit games.”
Kinte was watching her intently. “You know, when I was growing up,” he began, “most folks around me worked at Ford or GM. And I remember hearing my father and his brother talk about it when I was a kid…to never trust the white man you worked for. Because whatever he gave you, he could always take back. I didn’t really understand it then, but it made me want to find another way.”
Elle, poised to ask a question, didn’t because Roman showed up and started placing their food on the table. When finished, he asked. “Can I get you anything else?”
Kinte looked at Elle. “I think I’d like a beer, would you like a beer?”
“I’d like a beer,” she said with a smile.
“You have 3Floyds?” Kinte asked, his eyes trained on Roman. The bald server nodded. “A couple of Gumball Heads please.” Roman went off to get the drinks.
“Gumball Heads?”
“Local brew,” Kinte said, reaching across the table to stroke her hand. “You’ll like it, I think.”
For the next few moments, they made mention of the unusual tin ceiling and the gigantic carved-oak bar, while adding lettuce, tomato, and other fixings to the burgers. Elle had been preoccupied with Kinte's full, perfectly-shaped lips since they’d sat down, the memory of how sweet they tasted clear in her mind. She pushed the onions and pickles aside, blithely anticipating the opportunity for a kiss.
Then taking a big bite, she closed her eyes to chew, making sounds that exposed her pleasure.
Kinte let out a bright laugh. “Hungry?”
Elle giggled and dabbed her chin with a napkin, then nodded because her mouth was too full to speak. When done chewing, she asked, “What did you mean before…when you talked about finding another way?”
Just then Roman arrived with the drinks. “Thank you,” Elle said in a pleasant tone, even though his interruptions were beginning to annoy.
“Are we all good here,” he asked, wiping his hands on his plaid apron. They nodded and he left.
Kinte picked up his beer, offering a toast. “To playing hooky on a Tuesday afternoon,” he said, “with your sexy ass.”
Elle let loose an enthusiastic giggle as she lifted her glass in kind. “And yours,” She said, taking a drink, “Yum.”
The corners of Kinte's mouth curled. “So…you asked about my early decision not to become a company guy.” He then took a man-sized bite. “My people always had a side hustle,” he said, chewing between words. “Pops was a contractor, painting, carpentry, that kind of stuff. But my Uncle Clay, he's retired from the Cadillac division…well, he was more innovative.” He stopped and downed a third of the beer.
“How so?” Elle asked, leaning forward.
“About eight years in, he’d saved enough to open his own garage. At least that was the cover.”
“The cover?” Her eyes widened.
“Yep,” Kinte said, the rest of his burger balanced between both hands. He eyed it before continuing. “Uncle C ran a chop shop for about 15 years. A real successful one…never got busted either. I grew up working there.”
Elle's mouth fell open. “You worked in a chop shop? C’mon.”
Kinte had just mauled the burger and was stuffing his mouth with sweet potato fries. He nodded. “Started when I was eight, went most days after school and cleaned up…man that sucked. But I always loved cars, and damn near every day when I finished, Unc C handed me a ten dollar bill. After a few months, I was promoted to parts.”
“Promoted to parts?” Elle chuckled while she dipped fries in honey-tahini sauce.
“For sure,” he said. “I labeled ‘em and organized ‘em…then his boy, Dollar Bill, he was in charge of sales, would dig-up buyers. It was always a high-end shop, Caddies, Lincolns, you know. But Unc was a straight-hustler, sometimes fencing parts for Aston Martins and Ferraris, even an occasional Bentley.”
“But it was Detroit. Isn’t that sacrilegious or something?”
Kinte laughed. “Making money ain’t never sacrilegious. And Unc C made a ton of it. By the time I was twelve, he was paying me a $100 a week.”
“Bullshit!” Elle said.
“No…real talk.”
“But what’d you do with all that money?”
Kinte drank the last of his beer. “Bought model cars and video games…got a smooth-ass bike too…saved some of it, gave some to moms.”
“But you’re doing the corporate thing now…why’d you change your mind?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “Just needed some legit experience in the fitness industry before I branch out on my own.”
Elle finished off her Gumball Head then asked. “OK, I’m all jumbled up here…you love cars and sold stolen parts… so why the training thing, where's the connection?”
Kinte had finished eating and was leaning back in his chair. “Damn you full of questions.” He grinned sideways and folded his arms. “Tell you what…how you doing on time…you going back to work?”
Elle shook her head.
“Good,” he said, leaning towards her. “I wasn’t ready to let you go anyway.” He smiled and Elle felt like every single drop of light the sun could offer was shining just on her.
“I got a surprise for you,” he said. “So let's get up out of here.”
“Excellent!” Elle said then looked around. “Now where's our boy Roman?”
They traveled north on Franklin Street directly under Chicago's Elevated Train route. Elle was playing with the buttons on the Escalade's touch screen and Kinte was teasing her about being technologically challenged.
“Hey, I sell millions of dollars worth of technological shit…” she began then burst out laughing. “But you right…I have no idea how this damn thing works.” Kinte grinned and talked her through the process. Then he found a spot on the street and eased his gleaming black caddy in. After they got out, while he was feeding the meter, Elle asked, “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”
Kinte grabbed her by the hand. “Uh uh,” he said, “then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He leaned over to give her a kiss.
Elle was intrigued for sure, but more than that she was just pleased to be enjoying such a carefree afternoon. The sun was riding high in the western sky, the breeze blew just right and the city was dynamic and alive. All nature's gifts acknowledged, Kinte was still the most appealing aspect of this splendid autumn day. They walked hand in hand under the El tracks for a couple of blocks until turning onto a brick-paved alley. There wasn’t a single car in sight and the alley was so narrow that only small vehicles could’ve made it through. Awnings hung over doors, signs showed through windows and lots of other people were walking down the bricks as well. In fact, the place was filled with businesses; a used book store, art gallery, and tea house among them, as if it were an actual city street.
Elle saw a flower shop and wanted to go in. “Let's…” but before she could finish, Kinte gently said, “the surprise first, OK?” and he continued guiding her until they were halfway to the end. Then he stopped before a large industrial door painted red. Positioned above it was a bold black and red stripped awning.
“Here we are!” Kinte said, grinning.
Elle grinned back. “We are where?” she asked, mimicking his inflection.
“You’re crazy,” he said and dug in his pocket to remove a set of keys. First he unlocked the heavy diagonal metal bar that blocked the door. Then he unlocked the door itself and pushed it open, gesturing for her to enter. Stepping in after her, he closed the door and flipped on the lights.
“Oh my God,” Elle's hand went immediately to her chest. She stood silent for a minute taking in the surroundings. Then noticed a few short rows of cardio machines, a small boxing ring further back and several sets of glass doors leading to other rooms. “Is it…” She looked at him.
“It is,” Kinte said, beaming.
“Oh my God,” Elle said again. “It's yours?”
“Well, the space and equipment are leased…but yes…it's mine.”
Elle moved further into the studio and stopped again to absorb the details. The floor was hardwood, old and distressed, but coated with thick ultra-shiny layers of lacquer. Under the equipment was what looked like a carpet of cork on top of the hardwood providing a much-needed cushion. The walls were vintage brick, but mostly wrapped in tall mirrors, the brick showing at the top and bottom, and just a tad in between the reflective glass. In several spots, there were no mirrors, just huge colorful tags, like the ones often placed under bridges or along highway embankments by up-and-coming urban artists.
Kinte was standing near Elle, watching her. “What do you think?” He asked, leaning over to see her face.
She looked his way, shaking her head, “I love it,” she said. “It's incredible.” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears.
He touched her arm. “You OK?”
Elle nodded, “Yeah…I’m good.” She exhaled. “I’m just…thrilled for you. I would never have imagined.”
He smiled. “C’mon, let me show you around. This is the main studio,” he said, and pointed to the various locations, “cardio over there, power weights here, and boxing in the back.”
Elle walked closely beside him, only half-listening. She was awestruck. This is what he meant by finding another way. At just 24, he was bold enough to navigate his own path; taking what he needed from working for the man and using it to free himself. She knew that deep down she had yearned for that same freedom, but had never been strong enough to even entertain it.
Kinte wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Elle re-engaged in the moment.
“Wait till you see this,” he said. “I call it…The Dawg Den.” He opened one of the double doors and they walked through.
Elle took it all in. “This is unbelievable,” she said.
The room's brick walls were strategically tagged in an array of vivid colors, and a gigantic flat screen TV was mounted high in front. Huge, low contemporary couches, ottomans and chaise lounges were scattered throughout, upholstered in what looked like a deep chocolate velvet-like fabric.
Elle stroked one of the sofas. “Is this mohair?”
“Yeah,” he said. “When I picked it out from those little squares, what do you call ‘em…swatches, I didn’t know what it was… but turns-out it's mohair, which is thick and durable, I guess. This is where the bruhs can hang and watch sports after their workouts.” He pointed to the left, “Juice bar over there…BYOB of course,” he grinned.
“Of course,” Elle agreed. “It's beautiful, Kinte. How long have you been working on it?”
He spoke as he led her out of the room. “The construction's been going on a little more than four months. It was a black hole when I found it. Pops and his crew hooked it up, mostly financed by Uncle C. But I threw in a chunk of change.” He began walking towards another set of closed doors. “They’re saying it’ll be ready in six weeks…launch party set for January 4th.” He glanced up at a bunch of exposed pipe. “Still a lot of shit to finish before then.”
Opening the doors, he revealed a small but elegant yoga studio. He turned to her as they entered, ‘Yoga's big in the city,” he said. “This will hold about 20.”
The walls were a singular bluish-green, no exposed bricks here. And they were covered in huge words; Peace, Power, Progress among them; stenciled on in the same color as the wall, except with a shiny finish, allowing them to stand out from the otherwise matte surface.
“Was it your idea?” Elle asked, looking around while wondering whether there was a woman in his life who might have suggested it.
He nodded. ‘I practice,” he said, “so far only the sweaty variety…something about the heat drew me in.” He chuckled like a child excited to begin a new adventure. “I think I’ll do Kundalini next.”
Elle was struck dumb. Yoga...he does yoga? Immediately she wanted to touch him, make sure he was real and not some sexy apparition floating nearby.
Kinte was standing behind her and she turned to face him, placing her right hand on his cheek, she gazed into his stunning eyes, which seemed greener, and more clear than running water. “You’re amazing,” she said.
He smiled and wrapped his magnificent arms around her waist, pulling her close until there was nothing between them except the air they shared. Then he kissed her, squeezing her even more. His mouth was warm and sweet, and his embrace so intense that she felt like nothing in this world could harm her. The kiss endured until Elle pulled away and laid her face on his chest, just alongside his chin.
“Come,” he said, and led her to a corner of the room where two columns of large, square floor-pillows were stacked high. He began pulling them down, one-by-one, and placing them on the floor while Elle stood by. When he finished, they sat on the thick, soft make-shift bed and Kinte untied his classic Jordan sneakers. Having already decided to let joy rule, Elle slipped her feet from suede ballet-flats.
Before either spoke, Kinte placed a strong hand just at the base of her neck and pulled her face close to his. “You know I’m feeling you,” he said.
Elle nodded; her breath taken away. She studied his beautiful lips, brushing them several times with her own. Then she kissed him, taking his bottom lip in her mouth and sucking gently while turning her gaze to his half-open eyes. Warmth rose from the places where they touched; his powerful hand curled at the nape of her neck, her arm draped around his shoulder; and their lips, together, still.
He laid her down and moved his hands to her breasts, kissing her face while she pushed her body towards him. He tugged at her sweater until she crossed her arms and grabbed the cashmere's finished edge, pulling it over her head. Wearing bras only when necessary, she was without one today. Unfastening her jeans, he eased his hand inside, until she felt his fingers lightly stoking her labia. Elle sighed, her arms resting on the pillows while he tickled her tight opening, a rush of moisture building within. He tried to slip in a finger, but her jeans were too snug, so he tried again, with more aggression.
She grabbed his wrist. “Patience,” she said. Still lying down, she lifted her hips and used both hands to push the denim below her ass, then raising her legs straight in the air, removed the jeans, first over one foot, then the other.
Kinte stood, removed his sweater and undid his belt. Then he took something from his pocket and stepped out of his pants. In an instant, he was back on the pillows, his hands caressing her ankles and traveling up the back of her calves until reaching the insides of both thighs. He placed wet kisses near her navel and progressed upwards, leaving a trail of rising chills. Elle moaned in anticipation. When he got to her lips, she felt him slide one finger, perhaps two inside and use them to tenderly ready her, while she wrapped her arms around him and rocked to the rhythm of his caress. Once wetness emerged, Kinte stopped and ripped open the condom. He placed it then shoved his way in. He was beyond thick and oak-solid, as in her memory, and she struggled to accept all of him. Breathing into the resistance, she willed comfort and relaxation lower, until she held him with more ease.
Kinte retreated just a bit, and then pushed further; he pulled and pushed, pushed and pulled, until every corner of her was filled. Arching her back, Elle clutched a handful of his locs while shifting with the flow, some moments with ease, others more demanding. For what felt like a long time, she received him, determined to realize every inch, even as she felt an intense, erratic pulse of pain. Kinte bit her cheek, gently. Elle whimpered. Then a brief nibble under her jaw, cushioned by a kiss.
Moving his mouth to her breast, he took tiny bites from the outside moving in, and Elle knew she could take no more. As forceful waves swept from their hiding place, she writhed and twisted until she lay breathless beneath him.
Kinte had to know she was done and placed his hands on either side of her face, seeking to capture her gaze. But she was exhausted, in search of recovery and closing her eyes as she breathed.
“Please look at me,” he whispered. Barely, she obliged. With that he pushed forward, strong but tender, peering deep into her, to the edge of her comfort. Then wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he moaned, quivering as he found completion.
After a moment, he fell sideways on the pillows and pulled her close. He held her for a time in silence. Resting easy, Elle opened her eyes and several of the words scribed on the walls came into view, Warmth, Brilliance, Passion.
“Hey,” she asked. “What you gonna call the place?”
Kinte's eyes still closed, he answered, “Urban Grind.”
A giggle slipped out and Elle thought, exactly.