Follow You Down (Farfalla Book 1) Read online

  “What type of poetry do you write?”

  “Well, my poems tend to reflect what I see as some of the ills the US is going through. I think our country is in a slump right now, and it seems many of us can’t get moving…we’re stuck. Maybe we’re at a crossroads. Don’t know. I also try to focus on eternal themes, like peace and happiness. And justice. I like poems to mean something, and not be just decorations. Poetry should be…dangerous.”

  “I think it’s great that your work stands for something.” He had turned his shoulders and was looking at my profile. I couldn’t quite turn my head to return his gaze. “Are you from New York?” I was glad he changed the subject.

  “Queens. I live with my father.” Crap…why did I mention that?

  “Ah, and do you teach there also?”

  “Yeah…it’s home. But I love it here in Manhattan. If I can break away from teaching, I’d like to move here.”

  “So do you mind if I ask? What’s your heritage?”

  “You mean my race?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  I paused and considered the question. If it was somebody else, I might’ve been offended. “My dad is black…from Atlanta originally…and my mom was British.”

  “Where in Britain was she from?”

  “Birmingham.”

  “Ah, a Brummie! I’ve been there. Tough city…hardworking, blue collar. Kinda like the Bronx.”

  “I’ve never been there—to Birmingham.”

  “No?”

  “No. My mother was pregnant with me when my parents came back to the States. Dad was in the Army during the war and they stayed there for a while after. But it was hard for them, so in the 50s they moved back so Dad could start his business. And here I am. My mother used to promise to take me England, but she passed a while back.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “It’s okay…I was twelve.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence. I nervously sipped my drink, which was nearly empty. He spoke again.

  “You shouldn’t worry, you know.”

  “Worry?” I turned my face to his. His eyes glittered at me.

  “Yeah. I see in you the same fear I had just after I graduated. ‘What will I do? Where will I go?’ I know the fear. You’re not doing what you want to do, and you’re worried you never will. Things are tough right now with this economy, but it will improve. I think you should take a chance. I was afraid to take the leap myself, but I eventually found my way. You will too.”

  And the way he said it, I believed him. Instantly, and without reservation, I knew he was telling me the truth. He was so direct and confident, I would never be able to doubt him.

  “I know…I need to. I guess I’m afraid of that first step. Or leap…”

  “Listen, I gotta go. I’m meeting my sister for brunch tomorrow. I was wondering, though, if you wouldn’t mind having dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  My heart started slamming inside my chest now…I felt a huge rush. I tried so hard to sound confident and calm. “Sure. I’d love to.” My voice broke when I said it. I hadn’t been on an actual date in a long time. Darnell liked to have me cook for him.

  “Great. I’ll get your number from Frank and call you. Does seven o’clock sound okay?”

  “Sure. Yeah, fine.”

  “Okay, see you then.” I was facing forward, watching the city. Trying to pretend this was no big deal. But it was. He moved past me and then into the apartment. I didn’t move. Now that he was gone, I could relish the flush and the tingling feeling all over my body. I could feel my blood coursing through me. A gorgeous man just asked me to dinner. Confident. Handsome. A bit of mystery. Every woman’s dream, right? It’s safe to say I was crazy for him already. I stood on the balcony and giggled softly to myself…I was giddy with the thrill of it all.

  I finished my drink and looked out at the city. I didn’t go back in for some time. I was enjoying the little fantasy I was having about David. In my mind, I ran through all the scenarios. Dinner. More dates. Hearing his stories. Taking him to meet my family and friends. Engagement. Marriage. Having his children, all of whom had his dark, hawkish eyes. Growing old together. Yeah, I was in deep already.

  I had no idea, though, what was in store for me…for us…

  3

  On our date the next evening, David continued to impress. So as to avoid David meeting my father, I was waiting for him out on the street, down half a block. My father had no hang-ups about my dating, but still I was living at home, and I knew there would be questions about any man I was going out with. Plus, he knew Darnell, and I wasn’t ready yet to have those worlds collide. So I lied to him and told him I was walking to a friend’s house. He was already asleep in his chair when I slipped out the door.

  When David pulled up, he got out and moved around the car to open the door for me. I first noticed the car…a blue convertible Corvette. I didn’t know cars then (still don’t!) but I knew what a Corvette was. I was very impressed, and told him.

  “It’s my brother’s car. He lives in Jersey. He let me borrow it.” So he borrowed his brother’s car to impress me?

  As he opened the door and I climbed in, I could see him up close. He had combed his tousled hair, though it was still a little wild. I could smell aftershave, and his face looked smooth. His black sport coat covered a white dress shirt. He then surprised me more.

  “You look gorgeous!” he said as I slid into the seat. I was wearing my only good little black dress. I wore the highest heels I had, as he was much taller than me. I hoped I wasn’t wearing too much perfume. Or too little. I had spent the time on all the little details a woman does on a first date—hair, nails, makeup, shaving. I wanted everything to be perfect, no matter where the date went.

  He made sure I was in before he closed the door. He walked around to the driver’s side and slid in himself. The smell of the leather seats and his aftershave made me lightheaded. If he would’ve slid over and kissed me, I would’ve let him take me right there, but he didn’t. He started up the car, and then looked at me. I saw him stare at my legs, and then work his way up.

  “You really do look beautiful tonight, Rachel.”

  Two comments on my looks! “You look great too, David,” I said. Crap. I was trying to play it cool.

  We moved into traffic. He looked so cool behind the wheel of the Vette. Unfortunately, the wind blew my hair in all directions. I pulled it into a ponytail and held it for the rest of our drive.

  “Sorry…should’ve put the top up,” he said, smiling.

  I had spent a lot of time on my hair, and would’ve normally been very upset. To David, though, I said, “It’s no problem…don’t worry about it.” My hair was so wild that it took me a lot of time to make it perfect. Too bad…it was already chaos tonight.

  We crossed the Queensboro Bridge, and the water looked so beautiful. Moving through the streets, I took in his movements driving the very powerful car. He had a lean gracefulness in everything he did, even driving. Each movement of his arms. Each gear shift. Checking mirrors. He was graceful and sleek. Everything he did looked so perfect.

  When we pulled up to Sparks Steak House on 46th Street, I felt like a movie star. A valet took the car and parked it. He gave me a moment to collect myself and adjust my hair, while he simply looked at me and smiled. That confident smile! I’m sure most women will understand what it’s like to be with an extremely handsome man. There’s a certain pride a woman feels when she’s with a man that beautiful. In many ways, it’s a validation of us. This amazingly gorgeous man could choose any woman, and he chose me. I imagine it’s similar for a man with a beautiful woman on his arm. He held the door for me, and we entered the restaurant.

  Sparks looks the same now as it did then. A long bar with hundreds of bottles of all types. Small tables, too close together. We were shown to our table by a middle-aged man with a large belly and leering smile. Though a bit noisy inside, the steaks cooking smelled amazing. David took my wrap, hung it on the rac
k near the door, held my seat for me, and then seated himself. There was a buzz of conversation and the clink of silverware on dishes.

  As we ordered, we kept the conversation light. Family. Life in New York. When our steaks arrived, he surprised me again. He was pulling a small white card from his shirt pocket.

  “I hope you don’t mind…I have a friend who is a literary agent. I told her I knew someone who was putting together a poetry collection. She said she’d like to talk to you about collecting your work and publishing it. Are you interested?” He handed me a card. Stella Metz, Senior Partner, Abercrombie Literary Agency. He talked to them on my behalf?

  “David, Abercrombie is a top literary agency.”

  “They’re okay. They represented my book last year. It bombed, so maybe Stella owes me one.” He chuckled lightly.

  “Well, it’s a tough market right now.” Like I knew anything about it? Meanwhile, my head was reeling. An agent wants to talk to me?

  “Nah, I think nobody really wanted a picture book of my travels. It was a vanity work. But you know how it is…we feel compelled to create, right? How’s your steak?”

  “It’s delicious…too big, though…I can’t possibly finish all this.”

  “Well, just do your best.” He flashed that smile again.

  “David, I feel awkward…being referred to Stella Metz like this…I mean…” That was the first truly honest thing I’d said up to that point.

  “Why would you feel awkward?”

  “Well, I haven’t ever collected all my poems, and many aren’t good enough, I think.”

  “Frank told me your work was very insightful…and Stella will help you collect them and focus them. She’s good at helping writers refine their work.” He spoke as if it was already decided.

  “Well, and I like you…” there, it’s out now, “and I hate to feel like I’m using you.”

  “Rachel, no matter what happens between us I want to help you. And I hope that maybe there’s something more for us. But for now, consider this just a friend helping a friend. Most people get jobs and book deals and other career support from friends and connections. So why would you be any different?”

  I didn’t know how to reply. I had so many thoughts swirling in my mind. “Thank you.” It sounded so hollow. Inside, I was a torrent of conflicting feelings. And did he really say, And I hope that maybe there’s something more for us? That little validation meant a lot.

  “There you go! You’re welcome. Now, I think we need another bottle of wine.”

  And why not? He was right…getting published was and is about having connections and knowing people. Why not enjoy this connection? Still, I was so interested in David…falling quickly for him…and I hated to add business to our relationship.

  I was too embarrassed to shovel down the entire steak, but the wine was tremendous, and I probably drank a little too much. I found myself giggling awkwardly at everything he said. I knew I was probably a bit too tipsy. I also knew I drank too much because I was losing my nervousness. Still, whenever I looked into those dark eyes, I felt he could see every secret inside me. I found myself too often looking away from his steady gaze.

  “Rachel, I know this is probably a bit forward of me, and I want you to know that whatever your answer, I totally understand.” Oh, the vibe got heavy all of a sudden. “I’d like to take you back to my apartment. I’m very attracted to you.”

  There was a very awkward silence that seemed to go on forever. Remember, this was 1979. The rules were very different then. “David, we just met. I think it’s too soon.” My protest was weak…very weak. Had he insisted, I would’ve said yes. I knew I wanted him, and I knew I would give him anything he wanted. But I was also thinking long term, and I didn’t want him to think I was a loose woman. A woman who slept with someone on a first date had a horrible stigma in 1979. I was no virgin, for sure…but the free-love days were gone.

  “Sorry, I understand. And I really appreciate your honesty.”

  “Don’t be sorry. When the time is right, it will happen.” Crap again! I gave myself away already.

  He smiled at me. I smiled back. I tried to hold his gaze with my own, but I again looked away. Looking at him directly was like looking at the sun.

  We finished our wine, and David paid the check. He put my wrap around me, and we went out to the street. The Corvette pulled around, and we were on the road. This time, the top was up. I was surprised when I found we were on the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we’d go sit at the Bridge Park. Is that okay?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  The view from the park was and is amazing. We sat and watched the water and the majestic bridge. The breeze picked up a bit, though, and I found myself shivering. When he felt me trembling, he pulled off his coat and wrapped it around me. Corny, right? Not in the 70s. These little things made a huge difference in those days. No man had ever put his jacket around me like this before, and it felt amazing.

  And his coat smelled like him. I wrapped it around me. I smelled him all over me, and it made me incredibly aroused. I felt like his arms were around me, and I wanted that. I wanted to have him wrapped around me so badly it ached. I put my head on his broad shoulder, and he tilted his head on top of mine. Even though he was only in a dress shirt, he felt so warm next to me. I smelled him…I drank in his earthy smell. I felt the world turning all around me. I felt a burning inside me. Deep inside me.

  I was consumed by him at this point. I was intoxicated with his scent and his warmth. His voice reverberated through me. His touch lit me on fire. I couldn’t fight my feelings a second longer. I turned my head up to him and kissed him. His lips met mine, and I felt myself melting to his kiss. His soft, firm lips sent warm shockwaves through my shivering body. His tongue met mine. I put my arm behind his neck and pulled him to me. He wrapped his strong arms around me, and we were pressed against each other in hot, passionate kissing. His face warmed—he felt like he was on fire. I was melting against his heat; no longer cold, I was warm in all the right places. I felt my now-heated blood coursing through my veins. In one place, I felt hot. My body was awakening. The predator was about to have his prey.

  I was no virgin, but I was relatively inexperienced. I had only been with a few men, and none of those was satisfying. I honestly didn’t enjoy sex that much, and thought it wasn’t something I would ever really enjoy. Sex was overrated, in my mind. All this fuss and bluster about fifteen minutes of sweating and discomfort…instead, I thought it was a duty for a woman, there to please her man. Darnell, my current boyfriend (or “guy I was dating”) had never brought me to orgasm, and other men had left me mostly unsatisfied. But I felt like it could be…would be…different with David. His touch moved me in a way I had never experienced. It sent a fire through me. His lips were passion and need…desire and fire.

  This was the pivotal moment when everything was about to change. This moment redefined my entire life. Had I rejected him at this moment, I can’t imagine how different my life would’ve been. Had I asked him to take me back to my home, I would be a different person than I am today. You’d have to have lived in this time to truly understand the leap of faith I was taking at this moment. I would take many other leaps very soon.

  “David, take me back to your place.”

  “Let’s go.”

  4

  I was dizzy with thoughts and emotions on the ride. I couldn’t believe I was going to sleep with a man I had just met. Good girls never put out on the first date. We had to be chased. Courted. Flowers, movies, and chocolates. Good girls didn’t go back to a man’s apartment. I hardly knew him! Who was this guy? What would my father say? What would Darnell say? Those are such silly societal pressures, but in 1979 they were lodestones.

  But I was in heat. I felt my body radiating warmth. I was wet. I was tingling. I was ready. I had been aroused a bit in the past, but had never felt this way before. The men I had slept with before were rough an
d awkward and didn’t understand a woman’s body or needs. They simply wanted to rip my clothes off, get inside me, and finish. I never enjoyed that, but I honestly thought that’s what sex was. My girlfriends would tell me about having orgasms, but I was rarely even close. I often found it painful. As a man forced himself inside me, I would usually wish it were over. It was usually over just as I was starting to feel good. Sex and I hadn’t gotten along. I understood myself well enough to know it was arousal that is the key, and I was most certainly aroused now. I knew this would be a different encounter than all the others.

  I looked over at David. He was driving a bit aggressively, and we were moving through traffic too quickly. I still wore his coat, and could see the toned muscles under his dress shirt moving with each turn of the wheel. His lean, athletic build looked so intriguing. I wanted to touch it. I wanted him to touch me. For the first time, I was craving the touch of a man. He wouldn’t have to force his way into me…I was ready.

  “We’re just a block away.” He smiled as if to reassure me.

  “Okay.” Now I felt awkward. We were close. I was going to give myself to a man I barely knew. I was hoping this would not be another mistake. Even if it was fast and uncomfortable, I felt it would still be worthwhile, because it would be with him.

  He was, of course, amazingly beautiful.

  In the elevator up, he pressed into me, and began kissing me. I was already accepting him. As he pushed against me, I leaned back, and opened my legs to him. It pressed against my belly. He kissed my mouth and then my neck. I was warm tingles, head to toe. I drank in the smell of his hair. He pressed his hand on my breast, and I could feel myself getting wetter. I pushed myself against his leg…I ground myself against his leg. I wanted him to have me. I wanted to feel him inside me.