I Met Maureen In A Chatroom


Black-Woman with brown eyes 4

The Time: 1:00 AM.

The Day: Saturday Morning.

The Place: an AOL chat room.

I was into my 2nd Jack and Coke and trolling chat rooms in search of a female that was doing pretty much the same as I was. I came across a conversation between two females. One was venting to the other one about her disappointment in men.

I hit her up with a “Hello would you like to talk?”

Her name was Maureen.

Her profile picture was beautiful.

It was a pic that displayed a torso and face swathed in burnt ebony accentuated by two pools of ivory framed light almond colored eyes framed by cold black shoulder length hair. The pristine sanitized white smile was hypnotic.

“Damn a drink”, I thought, “I want a kiss”.


Ninety-five percent  of the women and men that hang out in the wee hours of the early morning in a chat room are either single, cheating on someone, exiting a relationship or marriage, or scraping the bottom of the early morning insomniac barrel in search of a candidate to start a relationship with.

Maureen was on her way out of a marriage  she said had gone down the drain. She said her Husband just wasn’t the way he started out. Different morning same song right? You better know it.

It was my song too. My girlfriend just wasn’t the way she started out leaving my interest to lead me into the latest in social encounters at the time, the chat room.

Maureen and I were the equivalents of two desolate ships in the fog of the early morning wandering aimlessly through the channels of the World Wide Web.  At 1:00 am on this early morning we dropped our emotional   anchors and requested permission from each other to board the minds and hearts of each other.

Permission to board granted.

 

We each  fixed drinks to fuel the excitement and anticipation of meeting someone new. She stepped away from the keyboard to pour two fingers of Hennessy. I mixed  a Jack & Coke.

My excitement broke all barriers and ran amok.

After some small exchanges about drinks and drinking, we got into the she and me of it. She had a daughter; I had a son. She found the smooth head, almond skin, and mustache in my profile picture nice and wanted to know about the man behind them.

I wanted to know more about this somewhat mysterious woman and I got started doing so by asking her what she did for a living.

Without revealing too much detail, she explained how she had circumvented a distribution network and managed a detoured flow of high-end Timberlands that she procured at a deep discount and passed the savings on  to her customers. She  guaranteed her product 100% certified real dealio. I found this hustle initiative of hers mixed with business savvy kind of sexy.

She dropped her body ballistics.

She was 5’6″, 134 lbs, 32/29/34. She was situated in upstate Connecticut. I didn’t think any Black Women really lived in Connecticut. I didn’t think anyone lived in Connecticut because Connecticut never makes the news like New York, DC, LA, Baltimore, or Detroit.

I reciprocated the gesture in kind sending her a full-length snapshot of myself.

When a woman front streets a full-length profile picture of herself, she wants to be honest. She’s attempting to give you a full tour of the exterior attributes take them or leave them.

In short, she’s ain’t trying to hide anything.

Full-length photos confirm she’s not dodging and hiding some physical insecurity and she’s confident you’re going to like what you see.

The picture was impressive.

It revealed something about Maureen I hadn’t seen in many other women.

She knew the power of dress over the desperation of exposed  flesh. Mystery will captivate, while brash boldness will kill intrigue at every turn.

Maureen was captivating.

The blue and yellow print sundress she wore in the picture was perfectly matched to her white mid heeled sandals that wrapped the prettiest red capped toes I’d ever laid eyes on. Stunning eyes, classy presentation, skilled conservationist and pretty toes at 1:00 AM on a foggy morning got her admission into my personal members only club.

We went back and forth for about an hour bringing one another up to snuff on each other’s background, likes and dislikes. We took turns analyzing what drove her marriage and my relationship to the curve. The chat thread stripped the covers away from two people that knew where they had been and where they wanted to go.

Then Maureen tossed an irresistibly baited line into the waters of text.

“If I give you my number will you call me so we can talk?”

She knew how to arouse a man with impeccably timed questions.

“Yes, give me your number; I would love to see if your voice is as hypnotic as your eyes”

“You’re quite the charmer” was her response.

Time to re up the Jack and Coke and make use of the Motorola Razor. I was feeling this.

— — —-

Two rings…. “Hello”…The voice was one heavily laced with soft nurturing understanding feminine notes.

“Maureen?”

“Oh Wow”

“What?”

“Your voice is magnificent. You sound like a Barry White”. She purred.

“Yours is the incarcerating equivalent of your arresting eyes” I shot back. I meant it too.

We went on a teenager phone run talking until the home office window in front of me was illuminated with the yellow brilliance of the morning sun. It had been ages since I enjoyed talking to a lady so much.

One conversation skill she had was she listened intently when I spoke and didn’t attempt to amend my words by finishing sentences for me before I was finished. And she wasn’t one of these people that felt compelled to promote herself (she didn’t have to). She’d experience quite a bit and all that she hadn’t she didn’t lay claim to.

I learned a lot.

I learned that Connecticut did in fact have actual residents. I learned that in the course of a foggy cool morning I had taken a liking to one of them. She liked steak, I liked steak. She liked writers, I wrote. She wasn’t needy and neither was I. We both liked our coffee like we liked our lovers, sweet strong, deep dark and black. Give the cream to the cat. She’d never been to DC and I had never been to Connecticut, we needed middle ground to say hello.

“How far are you from Newark NJ?”

“A couple of hours by car. Why baby?” She called me baby. See what she did there?

“I’ll be in Newark next week for a business meeting and would love for you to accompany me to lunch and after the meeting maybe dinner. During the meetings you can shop and explore Newark on my dime, of course.”

“I know Newark well. I’ve blown through there a lot of times. Where should we meet?”

“You’re going to come?”

“That depends upon how good you are”.

She laughed at her own response. “Of course, I want to meet you George. While you’re handling biz I’ll shop, but it’s on my dime. Are you staying overnight?”

“No the meeting is  Wednesday and I have to be back in DC for a 9:00 am meeting Thursday morning. I’ll tell you what, though, I’ll reserve a hotel room for Wednesday and Thursday so you will have somewhere to drop all those shopping bags of yours and freshen up between meals.  My dime.”

“You are a gentleman of commendable amenities. That would be sweet. I can finance my own hotel room you know.”

“It won’t be your hotel room, it’ll be ours and besides, I can’t have you running the streets of Newark like a vagabond now can I? The hotel is my dime, no need to debate it.”

“No, I guess not. So what exactly is your business in Newark about?”

A lady interested in my business dealings! Her sex and intellectual appeal  got amped up a couple hundred notches.

“I’m meeting with some execs to deliver some signed property acquisition contracts and identify potential areas of commercial parking infiltration in the DC VA area. It’s a 9-5 thing.”

“I’ll text you when I get in Newark. It should be around 10. The text won’t distract you from your meeting will it?’

“Are you kidding? It will be a welcomed reprieve from the redundant rhetoric that will probably have me nodding”.

“Well then it’s a date Gee. I’ll see you in Newark on Wednesday June –. What street is your meeting on?”

“Washington Street”.

“Gee I know an awesome diner over on Broad that serves the best lunch! Now it’s not five stars, as a matter of a fact it doesn’t even serve alcohol, but they have the best burger in Newark. I make it a point to do lunch there anytime I’m passing through Newark. I do some shoe business in Jersey from time to time and about a year ago met a contact there to do a deal. I was hooked after then.”

“If you like it babe I’ll invest. I don’t require waiters or alcohol if the company and food is good. Where is it?”

“Broad Street. Look for the green facade.”

“What will you be wearing Maureen?”

“Let me see. Hmmm. A blue and white print sleeveless wrap dress cut low on the high and short on the low with navy blue strapless pumps and my almond centered pupils. And you?

“A dark blue pin-striped suit white shirt black dress kicks and black Fedora”.

“That’s almost every businessman in Newark and Connecticut Gee”.

“Not really, I’ll also be wearing 12 red roses in my left fist”.

“A man after my own heart. That will set you apart from all the other businessmen in Newark. ”

“Hey I’ll see you in Newark babe”.

“I’m looking forward to it. You crashing now?”

“Yeah I’ve got an early morning.”

“Can I text you later today?”

“Woman, please. Of course you can”.

“Sleep easy George”.

“Oh, I will. I’ll call you later today”

“Oh one more thing George, do you like silver shimmer hose?”

“What?”

“I’ll see you in Newark George”

 

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Author: Geo Gee

I'm a curious one that finds politics, social issues, and diverse progressive solutions interesting. I believe information and education are the most powerful weapons one can arm himself with. Those two dynamics alone open the doors to opportunities. I also subscribe to each one teach one for a better world for all.

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