I thought about creating a synopsis for this and even telling you what the story will be about before you start reading but I think I’ll maintain a bit of mystery with this 😏. Plus, I think the title gives some hint anyway. This story is a step outside of my usual and is probably only the beginning.
If this is the first story you’re reading that was written by me, know that this story WILL get explicit. There will be light bdsm elements (edited to say: by part 5), very mild, that will still be offensive to prudes 🤷🏾♀️ lol. Either way, enjoy and let me know what you think!
Hazel waited at her front door with her arms in a tight fold. She glanced down at the crate of gold bubble mailers, bulging with custom made African head wraps.
“Where are they?” she asked herself. She followed up with a long grunt.
On a sunny Monday morning in May, Hazel stood there waiting for the mail carrier whom she arranged to pick up her packages. After one long year, her business was finally taking off. Quitting her day job to sit at home, cutting and embroidering the seams of African fabric. Creating stylish head wraps and selling them online.
Finally, her hard work was paying off. And it was obvious by the amount of bubble mailers she piled into the crate and left at her door, ready for pickup.
“Are they kidding me right now?”
Normally, she’d drop the stuffed mailers off at the post office herself like she’d been doing but that week she received more orders than usual, more than she’s ever gotten before. That was a good thing. So for the first time, she scheduled a pick up from a carrier service instead.
Her success as a businesswoman hinged on getting her customers’ head wraps out on time.
She smirked at herself realizing what she was stressing about. No more was she worrying over spreadsheets being prepared in time for meetings at the old textile company where she worked as a secretary. Managing other people’s calendars were a thing of the past as she stood in front of her townhouse’s door, waiting. At least she worried about something she didn’t mind worrying about. Things associated with her own business.
As she turned toward her cell to call up the carrier service’s customer service line, ready to give them a piece of her mind, she spotted the mail truck turning onto her block.
Hazel thought for sure they’d be on time. She lived in Cobble Hill now. Everything was supposed to be nicer and speedier than it was on the other side of town.
She made enough to put a down payment on a townhouse the winter before. Her dream home. Life was finally looking the way she envisioned it although it came at a sacrifice, men. No dinner dates meant minimal interaction with the opposite sex, but that didn’t bother her much.
She watched as the truck’s wheels slowed its spinning, the driver veering closer to the curb in front of her home. From her view, she spotted the driver’s arms first that bulged from his company’s short-sleeved shirt.
“Hmm,” she hummed to herself.
The fold in her arms loosened a little, only a little, when she got a good look at his face.
The mail carrier with autumn-brown skin stepped out of the truck, already making eye contact.
“Mmm,” Hazel hummed this time.
He was average height but his build wasn’t average at all. He wore the same uniform mail carriers before him who delivered to Hazel’s home wore but this man wore his uniform different.
“Very different,” she whispered to herself.
He walked at a quickened pace with a clipboard in his grip but to her he moved in slow motion. She captured every detail of him, studying his form like he was a part of a lesson plan. Her eyes trailed up from his strong legs to the muscles in his arms that resembled rolling hills. Took her time ravishing him mentally as she salivated at the body art etched on his biceps. And when she finally got to his face, she had to reach for her door’s handle to help keep her on her feet. So fine, he made her knees weak.
Damn, she thought.
Between her thighs came alive the closer he approached. The passing air brushed against his skin and brought the endearing scent of his cologne to her doorstep before he could get there himself.
Come to think of it… fine was an understatement.
“You’re Ms. Hazel,” he said as he climbed the final step and stood opposite her. His voice deep, husky like he was seven feet tall. He glanced down at his clipboard. “Hazel Lockhart, right?”
He smiled at her and she bit her tongue to keep from smiling back.
“Yes. And you’re late.”
He snickered, pulling the black ballpoint pen from the top of his ear. “I apologize. There’s a short delay—”
“Don’t care.” She forced a smile.
He wrinkled his brows and laughed to himself. “Are these the mailers you needed picked up?”
“And that wasn’t obvious by the crate with your company’s logo etched on it?” She kicked the crate to him and waited for a reaction.
Instead he only shook his head, never changing face. He bent his legs at the knees just enough to grip each side of the crate.
His muscles flexed in his arms and he grunted a little at the weight of the crate full of mailers in his hands. “A lot of orders, huh?”
“Do I need to sign anything?”
“Yup.” He hiked up a leg to balance the crate using the wall beside her door while handing her the clipboard and pen. “You can initial on the line next to your address.”
She did just that, sneaking peeks of him from her peripheral. Hazel drew in a shaky inhale through her mouth then pushed the clipboard and the pen in the mail carrier’s direction.
“I’m Sebastian Cuffington by the way. I’ll be the one picking up your packages whenever you schedule pickups.”
She huffed. “Well, hopefully you’ll be on schedule next time.”
He stared at her and smirked and the look he gave her made the walls inside her spasm.
“See you next week then Hazel and enjoy your day.”
Sebastian had already reached the bottom of her townhouse’s stairs when she mumbled, “yeah, whatever,” to herself.
She took a deep breath as she watched him load her crate of mailers into the back of the mail truck, gawking at every part of the man she could make out from a distance. In those few seconds, she’d already created vivid scenes in her mind starring them two. In all of those scenes they were nude and sweating, their bodies so close not even air could pass between them.
He glanced to his right to see her staring and as he lifted his arm to wave goodbye, she closed her door quick.
“I hate men,” Joslyn spat, pressing the speed button on her treadmill so the machine could move faster.
“Girl, you already know my views on them,” Hazel replied as she ran beside her girlfriend.
“Can we not make this another one of those type of workouts,” Laila said to Hazel’s left. “This reoccurring conversation is old, no?”
Sunday afternoon while most of Brooklyn were sitting in pews in churches listening to pastors speak the good word, Hazel and her two girlfriends were working up a sweat at a nearby gym only a few steps from Hazel’s home. Neither Laila nor Joslyn could afford the membership fee for the gym Hazel worked out at but they sure enjoyed the perk of the visitor passes she received every month.
“I went out on that date last night. You know the one I told y’all about? The one I was so excited about going on? Well, I ended up regretting the decision and life,” Joslyn said through heavy exhales. “He offered nothing. Not even good conversation.”
“Hmph,” Hazel huffed.
“Couldn’t think of one thing he wanted to achieve in his romantic life in five years but could tell me five different positions he wanted to twist me in by the end of the night.”
“Typical,” Hazel chimed in again.
Laila shook her head at the two.
“He really expected to get ass. We only met up like an hour before. Can you believe that?” Joslyn asked. “Like it was some kind of obligation on my part.”
“The fact he expected it is my problem with dating,” Hazel added. She switched her treadmill to walk mode. “If you two were going to have sex, he’d know it would happen. They should never have to ask or even mention it. That’s so damn wack.”
Laila sighed as she sped up her treadmill and plugged her ears with her iPhone earbuds.
“Ugh! What am I doing wrong?” Joslyn whined, switching her treadmill to walk mode like Hazel. “I’m putting myself out there. I’m going on every date I can set up. I’m smiling at strangers, appearing open. What the hell else is there to do to find someone serious?”
“Aim higher,” Laila said, ripping her buds out of her ear. “Have a stronger backbone, maybe?”
Laila said that loud. Loud enough to turn heads in their direction. The gym was fairly crowded, nothing unusual for a Sunday. The usual crowd kept it filled. The ones who drank and ate on Saturday like the world was ending only to drag themselves through the doors of the gym the very next day. Booze and garlic oozed from their pores as they prepared to sweat all of it out of their systems. Their stomachs turned afterwards from the release of toxins but it was their routine. They weren’t whole without it.
Hazel turned her head so quick in Laila’s direction she heard the bone behind her neck crack. “Excuse you? Was it not you the other day giving me heat on my views on how to treat these men? Like the shit they are?”
Laila sighed. “You’re just mean, okay? And you,” she said pointing over at Joslyn, “are too generous.”
Hazel and Joslyn glanced at each other before staring back at Laila.
“You consider men to be like toys, Hazel. Like the thought of them having feelings is unheard of. You’re cold.”
Hazel scoffed, stepping off the treadmill. Laila followed close behind.
“Hazel, I’ve watched you be like a man eater, a bully to men who show you nothing but respect… sometimes even love.
“Often that love is superficial,” Hazel said. “Because most men have mastered the art of balancing their hearts on the tip of their dicks.”
Laila sighed. “You had your heart broken once—”
“Twice,” Hazel corrected.
“However many times, and you hold every man accountable for the other men’s fuck ups.”
Hazel shrugged. “They’re all the same. I’ve yet to see one prove otherwise.”
“And what chance have you given them?”
Hazel shook her head as she picked up a fresh white towel and cleaned her face.
“Somehow, you keep attracting these men who like being dominated by you. You think you like it until you don’t. Get bored and go back on the prowl looking for the next which often ends the same way. And you, sis, need a challenge.”
Hazel looked over at Joslyn and they both laughed.
Laila said, “The problem is you haven’t met your match. Someone to tame you.”
“Tame me?” Hazel hollered. “And what am I? Some kind of cat?”
“No but you have a pussy that I’m sure you’re getting tired of petting yourself.”
“Ha!” Hazel grinned. “That never gets old when you know what you’re doing.”
Laila rolled her eyes. “You haven’t found the right one to get you to submit.”
Hazel cringed. “I hate that word.”
“To give in,” Laila added. “To relinquish control. Which you might actually like.”
Hazel scoffed again.
“Well, I give in,” Joslyn said over Hazel and Laila’s shoulders. “And I sometimes relinquish control to men and they still ain’t shit.”
“You, are a whole different beast.” Laila turned to face Joslyn.
The three ladies walked up to the juice bar to place orders for their usual protein shakes they liked to have after their workouts.
“Granted,” Laila continued, “you’re not a bitch like Hazel.”
Hazel shoved Laila. “Hey, do not push it, okay?.”
Laila laughed. “But, Joslyn, your selections are the reason you keep getting the same results. One thing always remains the same, you like accepting dates from men with a certain amount of zeros in their checkings account.”
Joslyn kissed her teeth. “So a white woman can go after men who have the finances that makes her secure but I do it and it’s suddenly a problem?”
“Didn’t say that,” Laila countered.
“Might as well,” Hazel chimed in.
“So then, what? I’m supposed to date someone broke?” Joslyn challenged. “For? Love? I’m sorry but love is not an acceptable method of payment. I checked. It’s declined everywhere.”
“See.” Laila pointed at Joslyn. “You refuse to budge on that. And I’m not saying to date broke. I’m saying to dive deeper than his bank account. Moral check maybe? Your problem isn’t in dating rich men. It’s that you like dating the emotionally unavailable rich men.” Laila placed her hand on Joslyn’s shoulder and Joslyn shrugged it off.
“Joslyn you want a man to have all the stuff you don’t have and that you’re not even working to get on your own, and you expect for them to respect you. You’re dating these guys for their money and they’re dating you for your body. They see it as an equal exchange. You honestly think they don’t see that you’re attracted to their wallets and their drive to make their wallets fatter? I think you surprise them when you don’t go along with the exchange. They have good money which you want and they want good pussy… which you seem to have.”
“Look at you.” Hazel turned to face Laila. “You get in one relationship that hasn’t even lasted more than a month and you wanna play dating expert.”
Joslyn laughed. “I know right?!”
Laila shrugged. “Joslyn asked what else she needed to do, and I thought it was only right to let her know.”
“Hold down that relationship for longer than I’ve had these running sneakers and maybe we can talk about what Joslyn and I need to do.” Hazel laughed.
Their drinks arrived, and they all slurped quietly through their straws. Laila’s words played in Hazel’s mind on repeat as she tried her hardest to find flaws in Laila’s suggestion.
Submit? Hazel thought to herself. Never.