Her car smelled like the joint she was currently smoking, Purple Haze. It killed her that she had finally given into her co-workers demands to set her up. She hadn’t dated in a while and hadn’t caught any fish even when she tried. She wasn’t ugly by a mile but her full lips couldn’t help but fit perfectly around her foot. For the life of Carmen she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself especially when it was a guy she thought was unattractive, in behavior or conversation. There were plenty of sexy men who felt their looks traveled further than their ugly viewpoints on black people especially when they realized she was Afro-Latina like Amara la Negra and not Rosie Perez. Many of her friends who’d set her up on dates would lead with that hoping it would sell well when all it did was set her up for an awkward date. Hopefully this one landed better because she was slightly high.
Parking in the lot of the sushi place, she pulled her large spray bottle of vanilla and blueberries to douse herself. The smell of Purple Haze would only be on her breath but he shouldn’t be that close to smell it anyway. Still she popped a mint and looked down at her gold Kate spade watch. It was a quarter to 7. Time to go.
Looking down at her stomach in her dress she sucked in her diaphragm until she could comfortably breathe. Her dress, one of her more classier date night outfits, was close to her body banded and wrapped like she was a mummy except in the light shade of teal. She could barely separate her thighs from each other without making a sticky noise; she was a bundle of nerves of already. Her silver heels felt melted into the concrete lot as she walked to in a cloud of haze. She finally felt the knots in her stomach release gas and burped loudly as she entered the restaurant.
At the door, the host greeted her warmly.
“What can I do you for?” She smiled
“I’m on a blind date waiting for my date” she slightly whispered hoping no one behind her caught on.
“Oh yeah. That guy is already here. Good for you girl” she winked.
That was a good sign, she thought.
Walking through the restaurant they turn to the open sushi display where they fillet the fish.
Finally. She sees him and he’s not what she was expecting at all.
“Here you go Miss. you two take your time and let me know when you’re ready” she passed him the menus as she placed down my glass for water.
“Hey. I’m Marcel. Nice to meet you” he reached out a large hand.
“ I’m Carmen” she smiled back, trying not to stare.
“You’re a friend of…” she waited to see if she was on the right date
“Bryan? You’re on the right blind date” he smiled at his menu.
She giggled with relief but that made her even more confused. Bryan knew her taste.
“I’m sorry not to be rude. Are you Dominican?” She genuinely needed to know.
“ I am. Afro-Latino” Marcel says scooping up his accent on the way, “why?”
Carmen chuckles to herself, “ it’s nothing.”
Marcel shifts in his seat leaning forward towards her, “obviously it’s something? Are you also Dominican or Afro Latina or something?” his smile widens and his brown eyes shine. He genuinely looks interested. Too bad Carmen couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“No, we’ll actually yes I am Dominican but I don’t usually date Dominicans. I mean Latinos in general which is why this is so…weird” she blurted out playing with her chopsticks before looking up.
Marcel’s face had fallen. His mouth now crumbled into a wrinkled line erasing the smile. “That is weird. Some call it internalized racism?” He took a sip of water.
Carmen’s eyes widen realizing some Dominicans actually understood racism as it was popular joke they did not. She hadn’t realized she believed the joke, saying it out loud sounded foolish.
“No-maybe colorism” she continued on knowing she should probably shut the fuck up. Only, she was curious to see how much this “woke” light skin Dominican knew about colorism.
“Colorism? I’m almost the same shade as you” he brushed his hand against mind to see the contrast but Carmen could only focus on his smell, syrupy and smoky, as he leaned in. Marcel’s scent invaded her lungs and made her hold her breath as she waited for him to pull back. Except he didn’t. He left her there to burn as he caressed her arm with his forearm.
“Are y’all ready to order?” the older waitress asked. Instinctually, Carmen withdrew her arm in embarrassment and touched where his skin melted hers.
As he ordered, she noticed smaller details about his face. He had a strong striking jaw and cafe con leche complexion that no one in her immediate family carried. His lips although full were somehow slightly thin at the same time. She noticed the cut above his right eyebrow that framed it as if was the Mona Lisa of eyebrows. Those thick brows shaded warm honey combs that stared right back at her daringly. She looked back at the menu.
“Umm just two salmon rolls please” she handed over the menu back to the waitress.
“Am I ugly?” His eyebrows perked
“No, why would you say that?” She frowned.
“Cause you were looking so hard. Is it hard to believe I’m Dominican?” he threw down his napkin almost in frustration.
“Not at all. You are literally screaming it at me. Also you have an accent sorry to break it to you” Carmen replied lightheartedly even though Marcel hardly looked amused.
“So I’m cute but I’m Dominican that’s your problema, no” he questioned biting the wrinkled bottom lip.
“I didn’t say you were cute” Carmen lied. His last statement was too close to revealing her card.
“You’re funny. I like this date” he pointed at her as the sushi rolls came in on a large platter.
“You really like sushi, huh?” she tried to ignore his comment and return to normal date conversations.
“Slightly. I also had a feeling you’d order less but still might be hungry” he dropped a roll in his mouth.
“So presumptuous. I ordered enough for me to take to go” Carmen revealed.
“You’re leaving? That date hasn’t even started really? The Dominican thing is that bad ?” he shook his head in disappointment.
“ Its nothing personal. I just don’t date Dominicans” Carmen said as she looked for the waitress behind him.
“I’ll pay for the whole thing on my way out I promise. I’m sorry for wasting your time” she pulled out her wallet looking everywhere but him.
Marcel was perplexed, “why? Give me 1 good reason”
She turned back to him, “Did Bryan tell you I was Afro Latina before this?”
“No. He just said he knew someone who he thought would be special for me” his eyes softened, making her almost forget her point.
“I’ve dated a few Latino men before and they’re all colorist or sexist or… internalized racists” she left off abusive. He didn’t need to know that part of her.
“So a few represent the majority, got it” he dipped another roll in soy sauce.
“No. I just have had bad experiences. You know like if you’ve had bad sushi, it’s hard to try it again”
“So sit down and try it again. I promise it’ll be a great experience” Marcel said firmly and stood up revealing his full build.
He appeared even taller when standing. Closer to 6 ft than she liked he stood a wall of muscle from his neck down which didn’t surprise her. She knew many Dominican men worked out vigorously at Planet Fitness which is why she stopped going. His cream colored shirt highlighted the red hues that dotted his skin tone. Wearing burnt orange-brown pants and green Yeezys.
“That’s not fair” she said out loud biting her bottom lip at her mistake.
Marcel smirked. “Tampoco estas jugando limpia.” You are not playing fair either.
“You don’t have to translate for me. I understand. I just don’t speak it or have an accent” she apologized.
“No worries, mi amor. Our time together will be memorable no matter what sounds come out our mouths” his eyes focused on her full lips as he pulled out her chair for her to sit.
“You mean languages” biting the full bottom lip she felt her chest rising faster from his attention.
“What did I say?” He smirked at her knowingly.
“Please take a few of my rolls. You look hungry. You’re biting your lip.” He licked his lips as his eyes quickly roamed over the soft lumps of flesh exposed in the teal sleeveless scoop neck dress.
She took a sip of water and recrossed her legs under the table again. For the first time, Carmen was stunned into silence. He must have found stopping her amusing because he flashed a devilish smile. It was too unsettling for Carmen who prided herself on being put together. He was unraveling her.
Marcel knew why Bryan had set him up with Carmen the minute she came into view. She was beyond beautiful and up front so he knew she wouldn’t play games. Her shapely body had him itching to touch any part of her to quell the heat spreading in his pants. Her honesty was not only refreshing but hilarious and sexy. It made him want to kiss the smirk off her swollen red bottom lip. She has been gnawing on it all night making him eat more sushi than he liked. Trying to keep his mouth busy instead of putting it on hers.
Not liking Dominicans made him chuckle. It didn’t bother him because it was a lie she told herself cause some lame hurt her. He wasn’t a lame though. Marcel knew he was a different type of man. One that wasn’t easily intimidated by Carmen’s curt comments. Marcel enjoyed the debate, the fire she lit with her tongue. It enticed him.
Hilariously, she reminded him of a Sour Patch commercial. First she had been put off by his heritage but now she was showing her sweeter softer side that made his mouth water. Sitting across the table from her was suddenly too far. He wanted to know if the blueberry candy smell came from her skin, her hair or her lip gloss. Marcel needed an excuse to find out.
“Let’s go dancing. Do you dance?” he picked at his food watching her slowly eat her salmon roll.
“I do. What kind of dancing?” She swiped some soy sauce off her bottom lip.
Staring at her mouth, Marcel decided he would do any activity that would place her plush body against his in private or public. Marcel knew Carmen was a different kind of woman that required more than one night to truly savor. He wasn’t used to a woman who could feed his physical and mental appetite. Marcel needed more time to enjoy his new favorite meal.
“Anything. I know a spot. Let’s go” he pulled out six twenties way more than the cost of the food.
“I said I was going to get this since I ruined the date” Carmen interrupted his cash counting.
“Of course not. You didn’t ruin it. You made it interesting. Let’s go” he grabbed the leather jacket he was wearing as he stood towering over their table.
“Umm my shoes aren’t really made for long term dancing so don’t make it an EDM club cause I like these heels” she pushed in her chair and wiggled down her short dress. Marcel was trying to be the gentleman but Carmen was making it harder for him to resist his lust.
“I’m coming” she hustled out the restaurant following Marcel back to her car.
“We’ll take your car. I’m not worried about how I’m getting home” he commanded.
“I’ll drive but we’ll take my car because… I want to” Carmen said slowly stopping her speech, realizing she was arguing about nothing.
He enjoyed shutting her up. Stooping her.
It brought him joy to see her confused about her attraction to him and his aura. He didn’t understand why she was fighting it but it didn’t matter. Marcel knew it wouldn’t be soon before Carmen was wrapped around him and under him.
“You’ll love La Virgen” he leaned back in the passenger chair “it’s a great mix of hip hop, dancehall and dembow” he couldn’t wait to see the real Carmen show out on the dance floor.
“What the hell is dembow? I might need a few drinks to do that dance” a sweet bubble of joy popped from her lips and it made Marcel feel relief. Although she had presented as an volcanic level eruption of hurt, he was finally starting to see the softer side that Bryan warned him would make Marcel a romantic man. He wanted to make her laugh again, he wasn’t sure she did it often enough. Marcel wanted to know why the wall that she put up at dinner even existed. It probably kept a bridge between her and men who just wanted her for the night. He wasn’t just looking for a night though. Carmen’s biting attitude just made him want to bite back. He knew he was already infected with a deep attraction to her that went beyond her dangerous curves. All Marcel had to do now was spread the virus to her and take the remedy that befell her sweet lips.
“We’re here. Get out” Carmen spoke loudly shaking him out of his fantasy.
La Virgen was a club owned by his Uncle, Isidor, who was a black sheep in his Dominican Catholic family. The club came from money he won after a NYC MTA bus ran over his foot. It would be easy to get Carmen in but hopefully he’d be the only family member on the dance floor.
Dawning the painting of the Virgin Mary on the door, La Virgen was a place the Virgin Mary would have prayed for. Entering Marcel grabbed Carmen by the waist as they entered the club skipping the line and fist bumping the bouncer, Hector, before hearing the loud reggaeton bouncing off the walls. Brick walls covered the room making it feel hotter than he knew it was. His Uncle claimed it would make people buy drinks trying to cool themselves only to burn on the dance floor from the heat and alcohol.
Marcel looked at all the men eyeing Carmen. She was a virgin to this place and to his touch. Her skin glowed differently under the colorful fluorescent lights and made his mouth water. She had know idea how beautiful she was to him. Her insecurities came across strong at dinner but they were too superficial to top her charming beauty.
“I’ll get you a drink. Talk to no one” Marcel whispered in her ear smelling the perfume that graced her skin. She smelled like sweet honeysuckle and blueberry flavored candy, he was tempted to suck on the spot underneath her ear but licked the skin instead to test her, to mark her in front of all that watched her closely.
She jumped to grab his hand frozen by his mouth near her neck. He wanted to keep her melting all night until he had a proper place to lick her all up.
Marcel knew he had no right to go there but he couldn’t fathom leaving Carmen alone for his Tio’s tiegeres or hoodlums to make their move on her. He needed her to also know what type of man he was in front of other leering men. Marcel wished someone would try to talk to her while he was getting them drinks. He’d never felt so possessive but he had worked hard to get this beauty to stay with him all night so he wasn’t going to lose Carmen to a pigheaded idiot.
“That’s yours” the bartender, Javiel asked.
“She will be.” Marcel grabbed the two rum and cokes feeling his stomach tighten with anticipation of what the night might bring.
The fast-paced energy in the club already enflamed his blood as the reggaeton song transformed into a popular hip hop song. The black and brown bodies of the club only seemed to grind faster and closer together on the dance floor.
“Here you go. Did anyone mess with you? ” Marcel looked around Carmen to see her sitting in the corner with three women by her. Her Afro smaller than before haloed around her face and perspiration beaded on the skin that he had licked. Instantly he wanted another taste.
“Now, do you own this place or something?” Carmen questioned taking a sip of her drink. She must have questions about how they entered so easily.
“My Tio Isi does. Family business” Marcel explained “ I own a barbershop. Other family business”.
Carmen’s coughing and almost choking expression worries Marcel until he hears her laughter.
“You really are a plantano” she laughs harder at the concept.
“What? Cause I own a barbershop” Marcel said jokingly, he knew the stereotype fit but he’s a business man.
Tears in her eyes, she’s almost doubled over with laughter but all Marcel felt was a tightening in his chest at the sound . Marcel ignored the weird swish in stomach and placed blame on the rum mixing with the sushi. Although the feeling was strange it was not uncomfortable and it warmed him differently than the liquor. Marcel wanted to hear more sounds of joy fall from her lips. He had to make sure this went beyond a simple date. He ensured her a good time and he promised to do that to the best of his abilities, using all his abilities.
“Do you want to dance?” He pulled her closer wanting to feel her warming against him in a dance.
“I don’t know how to dance to this song.” Carmen refused more easily than he liked. He thought he’d been wearing her down with the charm.
“Do you have two left feet? Are you a black girl who can’t dance?” Marcel teased hoping she knew how to whined her hips on and off the dance floor.
“I can dance. I just can’t dance to this” Carmen sipped more of her rum and coke looking around the club. Marcel sensed she didn’t want to embarrass herself.
“Baile conmigo. They’ll play bachata soon” he whispered in her ear.
Moving his hips slightly to the merengue beat, he grabbed her glass and put it down.
“I know you know how to move that ass” he whispered again, placing a kiss on her neck.
Carmen gasped at his comment as he pulled her on the dance floor. She could act unaffected all she wanted but Marcel knew that her body was responding to more than just the heat of the club; it was responding to his touch. He couldn’t wait to feel her soft skin as they grinder against each other, spreading the heat she had sparked in him from the moment the date started. Marcel knew he needed to cool down, but it was too late. He liked the way it burned between them too much to leave her alone. She’d have to let him set her on fire again and soon, preferably before the night was over.
Carmen had hoped the liquor hit her harder by the time he asked her to dance so she could blamed her lack of Dominican dance skills on her inebriation. Unfortunately, she was barely tipsy which made her painfully aware that all she knew was bachata as Marcel dragged her to the dance floor. He said his Uncle owned the place so without a doubt, someone from his family was watching them. She could feel their glares lingering as soon as they entered the club. Carmen hated walking into anything unprepared and this night had been a “Groundhog Day” of surprises. Her first surprise had been discovering her date’s ethnicity, her second surprise had been discovering her date was a snarky “woke” Dominican and her third surprise had been discovering her growing attraction to him despite Marcel being a walking list of red flags. Carmen wasn’t blind. Marcel was handsome in a pretty boy way that she had never before thought was sexy. Used to being the boss in her professional and personal life, Carmen was struggling to not take instruction from Marcel and keep him on his toes. She was stumbling over her words like a teenage girl. Carmen was determined to make the dance floor her revenge and have him in a daze from her hips. Ignoring the storm brewing in her stomach, Carmen tried to focus on the beat of the music but Marcel wasn’t making it easy. She wasn’t going to succumb to the allure of his smell, warm and rich, and the invitation of his hips.
Reggaeton was not her speciality but shaking her ass was a skill Carmen received from her mother’s side. Whining her hips in a circle 8, she pressed her backside against Marcel’s and almost stepped on his feet. Carmen couldn’t remember a time she was so thrown off in the club.
“Sueltalo” he whispered cupping her hips, “let me” he guided her hips as the beat changed to something faster.
Although Marcel was all visibly muscle, his body moved like water on the dance floor. Thrusting harder against her ass as the tempo picked up, Carmen responded by bouncing her cheeks to the beat. Looking around Carmen saw plenty of women gyrating to the rhyme and a bunch of men doing fast feet movements. Everyone was lost in the sound reflecting off the walls, she relaxed a little more adding a swirl to her twerk. The liquor, finally revealing itself, made her feel slick everywhere. All she could focus on was his dick pressed up on her ass as she gave him her best Meg thee Stallion impression. Carmen tried to ignore the creeping fear that always lingered when she played with alcohol since her early 20s. She felt too loose, too comfortable in this club.
Standing up she turned around abruptly her legs almost giving out from the force of his thrust, “ I’m going to get something to drink from the bar” she pointed to the barely empty bar across the room.
Not waiting for answer, Carmen began to move out the crowd opposite of the bar. Trying to remain calm in a wave of a sweaty bodies heightened her anxiety about the bar. Carmen felt claustrophobic. Fighting her way to an open space, Carmen sucked in her first non-hookah breath all night. Marcel was on her heels grasping at her hips as she tried to escape him for the second time that night. Expecting his anger and annoyance with her behavior, Carmen braced for the “cocktease” like slurs that would follow her abrupt distant behavior. Instead Marcel pulled her in close against his sweat stained shirt absorbing her in.
“Are you feeling better?” Marcel’s correct assumption that his touch would calm her only made Carmen still in his warm embrace. Trying to prove him wrong Carmen attempted to pry herself off him with a big thrust against his shoulders. Marcel chuckled in her ear, the sound causing the beads of sweat she swore was from dancing race down her spine.
“Let’s go somewhere you can cool down” his wide palm spanned hers ushering out the back door of the club.
As the cool air of the night sky kissed Carmen’s sweaty skin, she thanked God for an actual escape route but now she needed one to end this date properly. There would be no second date. No walking her to the front door. No hot scorching kiss that would douse her growing desire. None of that. Carmen was determined to ignore the heat between them and listen to her logic. She dated men like Marcel before so now she knew better; Carmen knew how to spot a fuck boy. Marcel was too good looking to not be sinking into something new every weekend he visited his Uncle at his club. Carmen observed how all the ladies with pasties for bras stared at Marcel when he entered the club; she wasn’t stupid. She knew Marcel didn’t need to be set up on a blind date but yet here she was. Marcel approached her, brushing back a sticky curl from her forehead.
“What troubles you, llamita?” Little flame.
“Nothing” Carmen glanced around at the alleyway Marcel rushed her out to.
“You mean why I left. I just…” Carmen starts her ridiculous lie looking anywhere but his smoldering gaze.
“What are you running from, little flame?” Marcel tipped Carmen’s chin up forcing her to meet his intense stare.
Before she could open up her mouth to respond, Marcel added “don’t fix those sweet lips to lie to me either.”
He was asking for more of her than she was willing to offer. It scared her that she was scrambling to give him the easiest truth about her to swallow when he didn’t deserve it; he hadn’t earned her trust. Carmen quickly recovered, remembering herself.
“Are you calling me a liar? From the looks of this shady “club”, you come from a family of liars.” Carmen shot back her best insult.
Marcel’s lips tightened at the mention of his family and took a step back, Carmen silently cheered successfully ending the date.
“I thought you were an honest woman. Yet here you are lying and scared?” Marcel shot back.
“Scared of what? You barely know me. Where are you getting all this from?” Carmen sucked her teeth.
“You dance too carefully. Like someone’s always watching.”
“Cause someone always is. It’s called double consciousness. It’s a thing most black people have.” Carmen silently judged Marcel’s unawareness.
This is why she didn’t date outside her people. She knew this man wasn’t “her kinfolk” from the minute his accent vexed her.
“I apologize llamita. I was too busy watching your soft flesh ripple under me. Too besotted on the sway of your hips to dembow beat” he stared down at my figure nostalgically as if we hadn’t just touched moments ago.
“Even now your eyes communicate passion but you suppress your true desires.” Marcel cuffed my waist pressing his toned body against mine to whisper roughly against my ear as if we weren’t alone in an alley.
“Not me though”. He chastised, “I don’t lie about my desires” Marcel’s darkened eyes fixated on her lips.
“I can’t” Carmen whispered not understanding what she was saying no to.
“You can, you will and even better, you’ll want to.” Marcel predicted as he crushed his full wiry lips against hers. The heat that rivaled the inside of the sweaty club returned tenfold as Carmen’s safeguarded walls thawed.
This was his plan all night, Carmen tried to reason before lust took over. Marcel was intent on making her boil under his gaze, his questions, his hips and now under his lips. Giving in temporarily, Carmen enjoyed the pressure of his hard body against hers as his lips caressed hers with a tenderness that made her resolve liquify. It was clear Marcel was no stranger to a dumpster hump as he thrusted Carmen against the brick wall housing his Uncle’s club and continued to cultivate the fire between them. The idea that this was all going according to his plan turned Carmen malleable lips into stone as she pushed him away.
“Use to mauling black girls in cheap alleyways for fun or is this your first time?” Carmen accused Marcel immediately to push him even further away.
“If I was mauling you, what were you doing to me?” Marcel motioned to his muddled unbuttoned shirt .
“I didn’t do that. I didn’t do anything.”” Carmen huffed, confused by her body’s response to him.
“I certainly didn’t do this myself and my lips aren’t swollen for no reason.” Marcel licked his bruised lips to taste her one more time.
“Come here, llamita. Let the fires burn.” Marcel smirked knowingly. Carmen surmised it was all a play in his game book.
“No. I’m going home. I won’t be groped in a back alley way like some call girl.” Carmen marched toward her car.
Marcel, no longer amused by her denial of their chemistry, chased after Carmen adjusting himself to speak with reason not lust.
“You’re too drunk to drive. I’ll call you a cab and bring your car to your home tomorrow.” Marcel offered re-buttoning the mess my hands unconsciously made.
Trying to ignore the hint of blues and red in his prominent chest tattoo, Carmen looked for her car even more.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good” Marcel stated.
“I’m not drunk and if I am, I’ll call myself an Uber. I’m not giving you my address, weirdo.” The rum was not her friend and not her usual drink.
“My boy will drop us off. I promise you’re safe with me. I won’t stalk you or whatever else you think bad Dominican boys do.” Marcel tried to assuage her fears.
“No. I already called it but I’ll pick up my car in the morning. If your uncle tows it, you’re paying for it Marcel. Intendes?”Carmen stepped into the street and waved her phone in Marcel’s face to show the Uber was 2 minutes away.
He snatched it up! “Give me back my phone” Carmen bounced up and down jumping to reach his 6’3 frame as he typed in her phone.
“Do not cancel my Uber. Give me back my phone now Marcel. I’m not playing with you.” Carmen shuffled around him to see what he was doing.
“Here stubborn llamita. Now I’m shared in your Uber ride so I know that you’re home safe. That’s all I care about.” His heartfelt reply made Carmen doubt herself again but she wised up.
“What about my car? No tow. No tickets Marcel. Intiendes?” She repeated ignoring his little Uber safety check.
“I’ll drop that off tomorrow. Now that I have your address and the keys.” He held up the keys he picked from her during their little chase.
“Marcel. Give me back my keys. I need to get open the door!” Carmen pouted. The alcohol was wearing her down.
“You still have your house keys but if you really want to come back all way to the bar when you live so far away before work tomorrow, you can” he dangled the key in front of her.
“I’ll take my chances. I’ll be by at 11. I work from home tomorrow.” Carmen revealed snatching her keys as her Uber arrived.
“You never even told me what you do?” Marcel joked. “I guess we’ll find out on a later date, huh?” Marcel flirted the idea of a second date.
“Good night Marcel. It was definitely interesting.” Carmen closed the door of the Toyota and sped off into the night.
Marcel looked at her address chuckling, she lived next to the business he was renovating. He’d make sure to see his little flame for one more taste of her fire.