The Man of My Dreams chpt 3

The Man of My Dreams chpt 3

Renee finally meets the man of her dreams. . .


Romance / Women's fiction

Author Image

Ronda Heard (United States)

"I don't know how I let you talk me into this," I said to my lifelong friend Brionne.

"Aw girl, please! You need to stop worrying 'bout Sean and the wedding and do something for yourself. It's not like you haven't said 'I need a break' a thousand times." All I could do was nod in agreement.

"Well, aight then. What better than doing something that relaxes you?"

"Yeah, but a dance class? You know how clumsy I am. I can trip over air for crying out loud!"

"Girl, you crazy!" Brie's cackle ricocheted through the car. "Besides, Ms. Bertha is cool. I've been taking dance lessons from her for years. And she has a way of making non-rhythm having folk, such as yourself, feel right at home."

"Oh, you got jokes." I playfully punched Brie in the ribs.

"Ouch! Dang, girl, you so sensitive." We laughed the entire way there.

"I wonder if you can see this building," I said sarcastically as we pulled up to the studio. It was painted sky blue, bright yellow, mint green and powder pink. As we emerged from Brie's candy apple red Jeep Wrangler, we were greeted by a beautiful, round, dark skinned woman.

"Welcome, welcome my children to Big Bertha's Woman of Substance Boutique and Dance Studio," she said with a thick island accent.

"Hey, Ms. Bertha," said Brie as the two of them embraced.

"Hey, baby. And who is dis?"

"This is Renee. You know the one I'm always talking about. The one who thinks she is superwoman."

"Oh. So dis is Renee." When I extended my hand to her, she looked quite offended.

"You better get over 'ere and hug me neck."

She took me to her ample bosom and beckoned for us to come inside. I stood still for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. Ms. Bertha and Brie were so busy "shooting the breeze" that they didn't notice I hadn't followed them. As I stood there, I noticed that the only source of light was from the myriad of candles placed around the room. All of the candles must have been scented because their almost overwhelming fragrances permeated the room. . There were many small paintings of tropical flowers and typical island scenes. As I continued to look around, my gaze fell upon what I thought was a photograph. It was a painting of the most breathtakingly beautiful sunset I had ever seen. The sun was red-orange and had almost completely disappeared on the horizon. The sky was filled with varying shades of red and purple.
I knew that sunset. It was as if I had seen it before. "It's the same sunset in my dreams," I thought aloud. Then instantly, I was transported back to the exact place and time of that particular sunset. I found myself in Mombasa, on the southern coast of Kenya. The Mambazi people and the Motutu, my people, lived there. I had just finished washing clothes in the Indian Ocean and was walking back to my village. The weight of the basket I was carrying made my arms ache so I put it on top of my head. When I did, I felt a draft on my breasts. That's when I noticed the clothes I was wearing. They were made of soft, supple leather; probably the hide of a wildebeest or water buffalo. The top I was wearing was nothing more than a strip of cloth. The asymmetrical skirt covered a little more skin, but not much more. I didn't have on shoes or jewelry. My hair was jet black, long and wavy and was held in place with a comb made from wild boar teeth. Brie walked up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder. When I didn't acknowledge her she called my name.

"Renee." I nearly jumped out of my skin!

"I'm sorry, girl. I didn't mean to scare you half to death."

"That's ok," I said holding my chest. "What's up?"

"Ms. B is calling for you. Besides, you can look at that ol' picture anytime.”

Brie led me down a long corridor to a back room. When we walked in saw that Ms. B had changed her clothes. She wore a multi-colored mu-mu and no shoes. Her shoulder length, honey blond dread locks were pulled high atop her head with a scarf made of the same material as her dress. She took me by the hands and looked deeply into my eyes.

"Me am very pleased you 'ave come today. You 'ave de soul of a great dancer." She nodded to Brie to turn the music on. "Now, dance for me."

An eerie feeling washed over me as Ms. B's last words echoed in my head. 'Now, dance for me, dance for me', they repeated like a Gregorian chant. Before I knew what was happening, I was spinning and leaping around the room. The music, like the painting, was so familiar. When the music stopped, I found myself on the floor, gasping for air.

"Yes! Wonderful! Excellent!" Ms. B rushed over to help me up. "Me told you, you 'ad de soul of a dancer residing inside. Never deny it, my child. It must live. It must be free to show itself or it will consume you!"

I was taken aback by her words, but was put at ease by the gentle look in her eyes. After my lesson, Ms. B told me all about life in the Cayman Islands.

The tingling of the bell above the entrance to the boutique let Ms. B know that someone had come in. She scurried to the front room to assist her customer. When Brie and I began to walk back down the corridor, I noticed that my ring was gone.

"Oh, snap!

"What? Brie looked over her shoulder.

"My engagement ring is missing."

"It's probably in the dance studio. Let's go look for it."

"That's alright, Brie. Why don't you just go ahead and get in the car. I'll go look for it." While Brie made her way to the car, I looked all over the studio and finally found the ring in a corner. “Must have slipped off while I was dancing.” I left the room, again and headed for the car. I was so busy polishing my ring, that I didn't notice the guy walking toward me. I walked smack dab into him.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized as I looked up into HIS face.

"No harm done," he replied flashing that magnificent smile.

He gazed into my eyes for just a moment, then turned and walked away. I stood there, dumbfounded! My mouth hung open and my eyes popped out. I took a deep breath because I realized that I had stopped breathing when I saw those raspberry chocolate eyes.

'Can it really be him? Ataji? The man of my dreams?'

"What's de matter, child? You look as if you've seen a ghost." Ms. B looked quizically at me.

"I'm fine. It's just. . .never mind."

*** *** ***
"These are beautiful Ataji, but I cannot accept them. I am not worthy."

"Not worthy? Nonsense! My desire to give them to you makes you worthy. Please take them or you will break my heart."

"Thank you very much; I will wear them with honor." Ataji took three steps toward me and stopped.

"If you need anything, just ask."

"I will, I promise." I seductively touched his arm. Ataji smiled sweetly, blushed bashfully and left quickly. I smiled victoriously as I twisted a lock of my hair around my index finger.

"I acted like an idiot! She must think I am a simpering fool." Ataji scolded himself. He went to his bed chamber and washed up. He decided that he wanted us to match, so he took a piece of the same purple and gold cloth and wrapped it around himself toga style. Then he prepared the table for dinner. Normally, someone else would have done this for him, but he felt the need to do it himself. He even cooked dinner, which consisted of roasted boar and yams. 'I must be really falling for Renalla.' Just as Ataji finished setting the table, I materialized in the doorway of the bath chamber. My hair was freshly washed and held in place with the gemstone comb he had given me. I wrapped the purple cloth around me like a sarong and had chosen to wear two rings on my toes instead of my fingers. When Ataji saw me, he nodded with approval.

"You are so beautiful!"

"Thank you. And you are very handsome."

"Please come and have dinner." I sashayed over and sat down. Ataji reached for my plate to serve me.

"Oh no, Your Majesty. . . I mean Ataji. I can do it myself." All my objections melted away when he flashed that smile.

"Don't be silly. You are my guest."

Competition: Friendly feedback, Round 1



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