Mocha Confidential

Chris turned to her and thought she looked very attractive; the dress hugged her body in ways he had not noticed until just then. Gently, with both his hands, he teased her with a pat on her bottom. Leah warmed up and yawned. She caught a glimpse of his hairless chest and laugh sardonically as if remembering something meaningful. “What,” he smiled; “What?” he repeated, this time half smiling, the soothing flattery falling from his face, upon realizing that Leah was now grimly laughing. “What is it,” he insisted genuinely perplexed. Leah sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs with a long grin on her beautiful face. Chris felt shaky and muttered that his dad had died. He zipped his pants, frustration was building on his face-not because his dad died; he hardly knew the stranger-but rather at Leah’s puzzling smiles and childish grinning. He swayed unreflecting at her hysterical chuckling; Chris was brimming with icy anger by now. “What?” he insisted, clenching his pearly white teeth. Leah hung her head, covered her mouth and pointed amicably under the bed. “Are you ready to go yet?” he growled furiously under his breath, with a sharp look of impatience inching across his face. “What’s wrong with you anyway?” he demanded again. Chris was puzzled and confused. Leah leaned over, ran her hand under the bed and dangled a pair of boxers from her fingertips. “Chocolate stripes and skid marks!” she said, laughing hysterically. Chris’ eyes flashed a wrath she’d never seen before, his face was drained of blood, his lips slowly pursed “Real funny, huh!” he cried savagely unimpressed. “Real funny, isn’t it! My dad just croaked and you’re joking about skid marks!” “Lighten up, you never liked him anyway!” Leah stated defensively, dropping the boxers.