Can you make me lose my breath?

Category: , By Glamour Diva & galaxyMafia

"Can you keep up?
Hit me hard, make me lose my breath"
- Lose My Breath, Destiny's Child

. . .In this installment, Glamour Diva finds that she has a competing admirer for her fickle affections. . .

“Adewhat?” GD stared at Miss Sakamoto, incredulous.


“Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. . .you know, Mr. Echo. . .” Miss Sakamoto clarified, fingers flying over her laptop.

“Mr. Echo. . .?” GD said, trying to ignore the delicious tremor that passed through her abdomen as she continued to pretend she had no idea who the hell Miss Sakamoto was talking about.

The truth was. . .she knew more about Adewale than she was saying.

She remembered him from the ground-breaking prison drama, “Oz”, remembered once scene in particular. . .Adawale walking off to the showers. . .even now, in the quiet confines of the Rolls Phantom, she could see his fine, hot black ass.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Wait. . .wasn’t that galaxyMafia’s line?

Anyway, Adawale was a big, scrumptious hunk of dark chocolate, and GD was very much interested in tasting a sample. But, that was something Miss Sakamoto did not need to know.

“You know, the guy from “Lost”. . .the show that J.J. Abrams created.”

GD tsked disdainfully. “I haven’t watched Abrams since he dumped Keri Russell for that ho Jennifer Garner.”

Miss Sakamoto gave GD a skeptical look. “Now you sound like galaxyMafia. I’ve never known you to bash Jenny G.”

“Hmmm. . .well, there are those who think we’re one in the same,” GD mused. “But, matters all that. “What did this. . .Adawale have to say?”

“Girl, I know you ain’t tryna act like you don’t know who he is,” Miss Sakamoto said, in an effort to practice being ghetto. “That man is fine. I thought you knew.”

“Please,” GD said, holding up her hand. “If I want ghetto, I’ll call Wentworth Miller.”

“Are you going to call him?”

“Depends,” GD said, deliberately cagey.

“On what. . .?” Miss Sakamoto said with a sigh, knowing that in order to keep her job, she had to play along.

“On what Adawale had to say.”

“He left a message,” Miss Sakamoto said. “Listen for yourself.”

Reluctantly, GD pushed a few buttons on the cell phone then listened to the message.

“Hello, Glamour Diva, this is Adawale,” came the British accent, as smooth and polished as a brand new Jaguar right off the damn showroom floor! “I know that we have never met but I hope that you will forgive me for that oversight. I saw you in London last month at Richard Branson’s place in Belgravia but I wasn’t able to talk to you. That was my mistake and since I make it a point to never make the same mistake twice, I do hope that you’ll do me the honor of having dinner with me. My assistant will make all of the arrangements. I do hope your response will be affirmative.”

The message ended and GD leaned back against the leather seat, conflicted.

On the one hand, she was glad that Adawale didn’t have that Cockney slur so common in East Enders. As a grammar Nazi, she could definitely appreciate a man who knew how to manage a compound complex sentence, a man who didn’t drop the endings from words.

And yet, as excited as she was about the prospect of dinner with dark chocolate, she nevertheless found that he didn’t hold much glamour for her. It wasn’t so much that he was boring as it was that she didn’t know if she found him interesting enough.

Sure, it would be nice to see the man naked but, from the sound of his message, she didn’t think he was interested in standing in the raw while she examined and scrutinized his every pore and orifice.

Oh, if wishes were horses!!

And then there was Wentworth Miller to consider although why she would still be considering hooking up with him after that trifling-ass message he’d left she honestly did not know.

What to damn do?

“So. . .?” Miss Sakamoto prompted.

“So what?” GD snapped, wishing the little haiku heifer would just mind her own damn business.

“So which one are you going out with tonight?”

“Probably neither. . .” GD said, turning to stare at the fashionistas sashaying down Fifth Avenue.
But, that wasn’t true.

She was in New York for the weekend and a three-day tryst might just hit the spot, especially considering that it was only days before her period, a time when, historically, she was voraciously horny.

Still, she didn’t know whom she wanted to be bothered with. . .Wentworth or Adawale. Time was a precious commodity, one that could never be returned, and she didn’t want to waste it on a ghetto fool, or a Continental bore.

“Why don’t you just flip a damn coin?” Miss Sakamoto suggested.

“And leave my fate in the hands of a United States coin?” GD scoffed.

“Well, you’ll never be able to make a decision,” Miss Sakamoto said.

“Unless. . .” GD said, a plan formulating on the outskirts of her mind.

“Unless what?”

“Unless I put both of them on the chess board,” GD said, smiling wickedly.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Miss Sakamoto asked. “After all, when the pawn – ”

“Spare me, Fiona Apple,” GD said. “I know how to sack king.”

“Listen, why don’t you let me do some research on these guys,” Miss Sakamoto said. “They could be pros. They could allow you to think they can’t play and in the end, you could end up – ”

“That won’t happen,” GD said.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Adawale and Wentworth don’t play chess the way I play chess.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Miss Sakamoto said, nervous.

“Don’t worry Susie Wong,” GD said, patting her assistant’s shoulder. “This will be fun. I have an excellent endgame.”

“But – ”

“No buts,” GD said, resolved. “Now. . .this is what I need you to do. . .”

copyright 2006 - galaxyMafia

 

1 comment so far.

  1. Kati 3:49 PM, May 01, 2006
    oooh get you!!!!!

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