Chocolate Finesse

Chapter 1

Summer Deep

"One thing at a time, I have to learn to hide, one thing at a time, emotions running high" Drake: Finesse

The left foot of my retro 1984 banned Nike Air Jordan's pressed down heavily on the clutch while my right foot is slightly hovering over the gas pedal at the traffic lights.

Miami Blue Porsche Targa, v8 engine rumbling and submerged with Mary J. Blige's harmonic vocal cords while being sun-kissed through the glass roof.

Eagerly waiting, sitting there looking like a young black Sgt. Slaughter in my skinny camouflage combat trousers and a plain Jane khaki t-shirt.

Periodically glancing at the traffic lights through yellow polarised aviator shades, just anticipating the green light like a typical boy racer, ready to go.

Partly ego-driven to pull away first at the lights for the fun of it and partially to eradicate the possibility of having someone driving miss daisy ahead of me.

Squeezing the breaks before I could even throw it into fourth gear rather than jumping the next lights at a blatant red.

I followed my gut instincts from a slight subconscious whiff of bacon in the air. A few seconds after stopping at the second set of annoying traffic lights, the blue lights in the grill of an unmarked ford in my rearview mirror lit up. Then they pulled out the lane from behind me to my left. The co-pilot shot me an evil look while leaning in towards his radio and his driver looking left to right like the high school bully about to cross the road to exercise his power over others as he jumped the lights.

Apart from the Benson and Hedges gold that I pulled out the box in between my teeth and sparked it up as the lights changed, that was a close shave but no cigar.

Off I went with the pedal to the floor, right past that little extra dip you get like when you push the tip of your penis between the entrance of her uterus. Although her push back palm on your lower abdomen is not the same as your head being pushed back on to the headrest from the g-force. The engine seems to cut out momentarily as it takes a deep breath before screaming down the street.

Coming up towards Vauxhall and caught by another set of pedestrian lights, totally irritated. With an ambulance bobbing and waiving through the traffic in my rearview. Vehicles were pulling out of its way, the lights changed again just as it zoomed past me. My inner renegade kicks into full swing, and I'm flying right behind the ambulance it in its slipstream like Lewis Hamilton in a F1 Grand Prix street race. I was taking advantage of all the vehicles that were clearing the path for the ambulance.

You'd think after flying past numerous faces screwed up like a Cartier Santos, that I'd rather just keep my head straight facing forward, but I'm glad I didn't.

As I hit the breaks on the approach of a speed camera, I noticed a specimen of a lady coming out of the corner shop.

There she was, chocolate wrapped in a formal suit. Definitely, a city girl I thought, that wasn't a high street store manager type of vibe oozing from her buttoned-down and tucked in, white-collar shirted, navy blue suit.

As we both passed each other in what seemed like slow motion. I immediately understood how and why summertime has the highest accident rate. With my eyes entirely off the road and making eye contact with Ms semi-dark chocolate skinned slash hazel brown eyes.

I could never have imagined or predicted at that point how much both our worlds were about to collide with blissful loving ecstasy, jealously and the full concoction that comes with the highs and lows of a rollercoaster summer romance. Nor could I have fathomed all the trouble we were literally about to get into. Or the amount of times we'd admit each other into The Heartbreak Hotel when it all turned toxic.

An emotional wreck in a long term relationship that was a bit rocky at the time through no ones fault but my own but an emotional wreck none the less. Do I really wanna make the situation in my current relationship any more complicated than it already is?

I told myself I'm jumping the gun and it won't even get that far. I'll just take Veronica's number and not call as usual, but only if I'm fortunate enough for her to give it to me.

I gotta try my luck. This is one of those situations that will bug your soul all day if you don't even try. Continuously replaying her beauty back in my head and torment one's self throughout the day or even week depending on how much you get around.

But this is summer, deep in the middle of summer, late August, bank holiday weekend creeping up and the world-famous carnival. Let's get the show on the road, right?

I looked up again and saw her crossing the road in the far distance in my rearview mirror and instantaneously thought fuck it, hit the breaks, locked the steering to the right and did a wild u-turn in the middle of the road and restarted this smooth vibe, kehlani track from the top.

I pulled up on her with my most gentle approach, on my best behaviour type of flex. But I know she spotted the wolf in sheepskin because for a start, I stopped in the middle of the road in broad daylight to talk to her while holding up traffic with my hazard lights blinking. Not a care in the world.

I jumped out and crossed the road to meet this beautiful queen. Angry commuters behind me blowing there horns in rage as they'd stopped to close behind me to pull out and drive around me. They clearly not the type to route for the bad guy in the movies.

I totally ignored the chaos I left behind me arrogantly but also mesmerised by her unblemished, single-toned flawless complexion and her nervousness as I approached closer.

Hi, I'm Billie, what's your name? She replied Veronica and counteracted with nah your gorgeous, can I call you gorgeous? Yes, I hit her with the double entendre, but she didn't let it fly. With a smirk, she asked "you wanna call me gorgeous, or you wanna call me, call me?" while making the universal phone sign with her thumb and little finger. I chuckled at her pause and said both while handing her my phone with the dial keys on display. As she put her number in, I was busy giving her the full up, down, down and up scan for good measure.

Slim model figure with super long legs. She was literally more legs than anything else. Hair pulled back in one. Eyebrows to die for, and again I can't express how flawless her skin was, no makeup. If I took a picture, one would think she was airbrushed.

I asked her where she's from, and she replied area or country, and I replied both. Trying to appear interested in all but what I really wanted to map out was where I'd need to consider going too to pick her up from or send Uber's also. She replied around the corner and Cuba.

She seemed a lot younger than I anticipated initially. So when she said 24, as pleased as I was, I still thought she could be telling a porky. I had a 23 years old minimum age limit, and I had every intention to request for identification the next time am in contact with her.

I held her hand, and it was as soft as a queen would be. As my fingers slid off her fingers in while parting ways in opposite directions, I can only imagine mine must have felt like sandpaper in comparison to her butter-soft palms.