Chapter 2

            A few days later . . .

            The sun had set. Layla sat on her front porch watching Mercedes, Escalades, Cadillacs, one Aston Martin, and one Rolls Royce SUV drive by her home and pull in front of Katelyn Austin’s brick house.

            She let out a sigh as she cocked her head down the street to watch the semi-formally dressed guests get out of their vehicles under the streetlights and saunter up the Austin’s long walkway. Then she noticed several neighbors coming out of their homes dressed in cocktail party attire.  

            Layla’s upper lip curled. She was watching the activity so intently she didn’t hear Damien come outside. She jumped when he said, “Izabella is going to stay for another hour or two to watch Keisha so we can enjoy a little quiet time together out here.”

            “Good grief,” she said loudly as she placed her hand on her chest. Damn, now everyone knows I’m out on the porch watching everything.

            “Sorry, baby,” Damien said with a sheepish smile. He was carrying a wine glass and the bottle of wine she had served with their lasagna dinner.

            “Hey, guys,” Corey said as he and Lacey walked by.

            “Hey,” Damien said with a smile and a wave.

            Lacey smiled and nodded.

            Layla did the same.

            “What are you two drinking?” Corey asked as he slowed the pace of their walk.

            “California Riesling,” Damien answered. “It’s a light white wine that’s usually served with Italian food.”

            “Sounds great. I’ll have to pick some up to try it. You two have a good night,” Corey said.

            “You do the same,” Damien said and sat down in the chair next to Layla. “You want me to top you off?”

            “Yes, please,” she said as she held out her glass.

            He filled her glass halfway and then filled his own. He set the bottle on the porch floor.

            She sipped as she quietly watched her neighbors chatting happily as they walked in their finest wear. For the past few days, she had wracked her brain for ideas on how she and Damien could get the doors of society to open for them. She had thought about volunteering at the local homeless shelters and food pantries like she did in DC, but she had the feeling that it wouldn’t be enough for Tampa’s high society. Layla had to make a big splash to really get noticed by the right people. She had thought about hosting her own semi-formal party, but since she wasn’t well connected, she was afraid no one would show up. Then it finally hit her. She could host a charity event to benefit the hospital. Damien was a partnered doctor there. The money raised could be donated to the neurology department.

            “Baby!” he shouted.

            Her body jerked. “Huh! What?”

            “You haven’t heard a word I said.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said as her nerves simmered down from being startled again.

            Damien exhaled. “If you are that bothered by us not being included in social functions, then throw one of your own here at the house.”

            “It won’t be enough.”

“Can’t we get some sort of recommendation or something? It didn’t bother me before, but I think I’m missing out on some good investment opportunities and networking benefits because we are not well known.”

“I don’t think it works that way, but I think I know what will work,” she said as she looked around at the well-maintained homes.

            “Lay it on me. I’m all ears.”

            “We’ll host a charity event for the hospital’s neurology department. I can place blurbs in the paper and the local magazine.”

            He nodded. “Not a bad idea, but it would be better if we do it for the oncology department. Most people like supporting functions and donating money concerning cancer.”

            “Yes. That’s a great idea. We can have an auction and serve a three-course meal afterward. How does that sound?”

            “Sounds good, but what will we auction?”

            “I can go around to local businesses asking them to donate items from their inventory. After all, I am the wife of a local doctor,” she said with a smirk.

            He chuckled. “All right, but before you do anything, you should consult with the marketing department at the hospital. Oh, and the hospital foundation. They handle all charity events and donations.”

            “They won’t take over the event, will they? We need to be able to take full credit for this.”

            “Oh no, they’ll probably advise you and help you where they can. The marketing department will help with promotion of the event.”

            “Well, looks like we have a plan,” she said with a grin.

            “It looks like,” he agreed and leaned over.

            They kissed each other on the lips, and then clinked their glasses together.

            They casually chatted until they ran out of wine. They stood to head inside when Izabella came out. She was in her early fifties and overweight. Her olive skin glowed as she looked at them. “The little señorita was tired this evening. She fell asleep an hour early.”

            Layla nodded. “I’m not surprised. Keisha didn’t take her nap today.”

            “Ah. I’m heading home. See you Monday. Adios.”

            “Adios,” Damien and Layla said in unison.

            Izabella headed down the steps as the married couple went inside. Izabella was in the states under refugee status. Parts of South America had been taken over by corrupted officials and gangs who demanded monthly protection money. Izabella and her two adult children had fled their country after the cartel killed her husband for not paying enough money from his restaurant business.

            Damien went upstairs while Layla dropped the wine bottle in the kitchen trash and rinsed the glasses out. She opened another bottle of white wine and carried it and the glasses upstairs. She wasn’t drunk, but she was a little tipsy – and horny. Layla slinked upstairs and went into the bedroom. Damien had stripped off his shirt and blue jeans and left them on the floor as usual. She set down the items on the nightstand and picked up the clothes and placed them in the hamper. The shower started running.

            Layla was glad he decided to take a shower because it gave her time to change into a sexy black number she picked up three weeks ago. The teddy was silk, and it made her C-cups look like Ds. She brushed out her jet-black hair and poured the wine. She pulled the covers down and lay on top of them. Layla nursed her drink as she waited for Damien to get out of the shower. When she heard the water turn off, she took a hefty swallow of wine and set the glass on the nightstand. She lay flat on her back, propping her head on her hand as she let her elbow rest on the pillow. She crossed her ankles and waited. It had been a month since they had made love. When they did make love, Layla had to be the one to initiate it. She wasn’t sure if it was always like that with them. She figured he didn’t want to push himself on her because of the accident that caused her memory loss.

            The bathroom door opened. She plastered a big sexy smile on her face. Damien emerged wearing his loose, plaid pajama bottoms. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her in her sexy pose. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”

            “Now that I have some help around here, I have a little extra energy to devote to . . . your personal needs.”

            He chuckled as he strolled to her side of the bed. “That’s great, but what is that you’re wearing?”

            “It’s a teddy. Lingerie,” she said sultrily.

            He cocked his head to the side.

            “You don’t like it?” she asked tentatively.

            “You know I think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but you know that I’m not into the sexy undies thing. It’s just a waste of time. It’s going to end up on the floor,” he said with a smirk as he sat on the edge of the king-sized bed.

            She gave him a small smile. For the past three years, she had tried different things to get Damien to be a little more sexually aggressive; lingerie, costumes, and ideas for different places to make love. Nothing seemed to rev his engine other than a blow job, and he only wanted that once in a while. He didn’t even like trying new positions. Missionary style, and if he was in the mood, he would let her get on top for a few minutes. The disappointment must have shown on her face because he cupped her cheek.

            “I want to make love to you. I’m just saying that you don’t have to go through extremes to get me to have sex with you. I want you all the time and just the way you are,” he said sweetly.

            “Ah,” she sighed softly. She knew that he loved her and found her attractive. But she yearned to surprise him sometimes – and to infuse their sex life with a little passion and excitement.

            Damien leaned down and kissed her. She loved the way his thick, dark mustache would tickle her nose. He was always a good kisser. His full lips stroked hers so gently. When he lifted his head, the room was dark. They always had sex with the lights off, letting the streetlight flood the room to create a soft ambiance. He slowly peeled the straps down on her teddy and smoothed it down her body. Damien’s soft palms glided down her bare breasts, the front of her tummy, and then her thighs, as usual. He stood and dropped his pants, and then he mounted her. She fought from rolling her eyes from boredom of the same old, same old as she reached down to grab his partially hard pole. She fisted him and stroked as he breathed heavy.

            After a few minutes, he patted her hand. That was his signal that he was ready. Layla opened her legs. He let out a satisfied groan as he entered her. Luckily, she was moist from the fantasy she had while he was in the shower. Her idea of how this was supposed to go was him coming from the shower and tearing the teddy off her, rolling her on her back, and slamming her from behind.

Not that Damien was a bad lover. He was a nice size, she supposed. From what she read o****e, some women had to endure their men being so short that it was barely inside. It felt good as usual, but she never had that earthshattering orgasm that she would read about in erotica novels.

            Oh well, it is just fiction. I should be thankful that I have a husband who treats me right and doesn’t complain about how much money I spend. He works hard to provide for Keisha and me.

            Damien nuzzled her neck and started whispering the sweet things he always whispered in her ear. You feel so good. You’re so soft and warm. Your body is beautiful. You smell like flowers. She liked his murmuring. It made her feel special, like he saw her as a one-of-a-kind woman.

            He pumped faster. He never gave her hard thrusts. He was gentle – always gentle; like she was a tight virgin who had to be handled with kid gloves. But it felt good when he went faster. It was the highlight of their lovemaking. She held out on the moaning as long as she could, but a squeak seeped out. Layla cursed her lack of self-control when he started grunting. Knowing what was about to happen, she widened her legs and lifted them in the air to give him more access for when he stopped to release inside her. And he did.

            A deep groan echoed from the back of Damien’s throat as his body shook like he was being electrocuted. His body was moist. Then he rolled over and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him like he always did.

            “Mmm, baby,” he groaned as he stroked her back with his fingers.

            She smiled against his pec. Oh well, at least he’s satisfied.

            “Are you still on the pill?”

            This is new.

            “Yes, why?” she asked softly with a hint of hesitancy.

            “I’ve been thinking. I would like to give Keisha a little brother or sister. What do you think?”

            Her lips parted with surprise. This was the first time he had mentioned that he wanted another child. Layla wanted another child, but she didn’t feel the time was right. Her first real appointment with the therapist was Thursday, and she was hiding it from her husband, and they were both trying to increase their profile in the community by hosting an auction that she knew would be a lot of work. Plus, she wanted her memories back before she kept moving forward with her life. She was sick of feeling like a blank slate. Layla raised her head to look at him. “I would love to have another baby, but I don’t think now is a good time. First, I would like to wait until Keisha is a little older. Maybe when she starts kindergarten.”

            Damien’s dark eyebrows rose. “That won’t be for another two years.”

            “So? We’re still in our early thirties. Plus, I think it would be a lot for me to handle a newborn and a toddler at home at the same time.”

            “You’re still in your early thirties. I’m thirty-nine.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty-one,” she complimented.

Damien smiled. “Well, Keisha will be in preschool if we wait for a year, not two.”

            She gazed upward, thinking about his reasoning. “I suppose if I get pregnant when she is in the middle of preschool, the baby would come around the time that she’s in kindergarten.”

            “Sooo,” he enunciated. “How about waiting a year instead of two then?”

            She thought for a moment. It wasn’t unreasonable, and she really did want another baby. By that time, she would recall her past or not. Either way, she would go on with her life knowing that she tried every possible avenue to remember her past. A smile curled on her lips. “One year, Dr. Miles, and not a minute before that.”

            He laughed. “You got it, Mrs. Miles.”

            They smiled at each other.