The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception by Brother Dash Read Free Book Online Page A

Leaning on the bar stool is a dapper Chase Archibald. He is dressed in chocolate tweed slacks, a purple and cream striped dress shirt, spearmint cardigan, polka dot green bow tie and snazzy two tone plum and beige suede shoes. Snaking her forearm into his, is Jenae. Her sleeveless, backless, deep purple evening dress hugs her soda bottle hips; it slaloms over her thick ’n fit thighs to shrink wrap at her calves. She is an elegant, va-va-vavoom, sexy. She reaches inside her vanilla leather Jimmy Choo clutch, removes a five dollar bill, and deposits it in the bartender’s giant glass tip jar. She raises a tall icy glass to her lips, slides the mint leaf at the rim to the side, and sips the spicy, sweet adult beverage. Chase waits for Jenae to swallow before swooping in with a surprise, slow and steady, open mouth kiss. He licks, slurps and savors her tongue, treating it like a refreshing popsicle on a steamy night. Her back arches.
    “Mmmm, minty fresh,” Chase says.
    Their eyes hug.
    The applause subsides as a middle aged man in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and a scruffy salt and pepper beard grabs the microphone.
    “Don’t stop now. Come on now pick it back up,” he says.
    The throngs of film watchers in the two story bar, clap and pump their fists. After a few moments the emcee grabs the mic again.
    “Yes, thank you so much. That was incredible wasn't it?"
    “Yeah," A voice yells from the iron overhang.
    "You know we here at the Dabka Lounge are so proud to once again host this year's County of Kings Indie Film Fest .”
    "Whoo Hoo, yeah baby, baby,” a female voice screams.
    “Okay somebody give me that girl’s number.”
    The crowd roars.
    ”We are so proud to bring films like these to not only the greatest city in the world…but the greatest borough in the world, Brooklyn comma New York right?” he says, flicking his index finger like a comma.
    The crowd responds with the local hip-hop inspired chant of “ Broooklyn…Broooklyn. ”
    Jenae slides her hand inside Chase’s cardigan and brings her lips to his ear.
    “After this it’s just a basic meet and greet, networking stuff,” she whispers. “Follow me, I have a surprise for you.”
    Jenae grabs Chase by the hand. He thinks they’re about to leave the bar. Instead she leads him towards the back. They squeeze through hipsters, artists, aspiring actors and film lovers and stop at a velvet roped passageway that leads down a dark spiraling staircase. Jenae hands the heavyset bouncer two hologram stamped passes. He unhooks the rope and they tip-toe down the serpentine, red and black planks.
    The base of the stairs reveals a discreet restaurant lounge. Instead of tables there are seven rectangular pods. Each of these semi-private coves is separated from the other by waist-high, bamboo panels. All are occupied by couples, except for one with a neon fuchsia note card stamped, RESERVED. Chase and Jenae are soon greeted by a tall, gaunt man with a thin mustache. His oil slick hair has a precisioned, fresh part down the middle. It’s as if Moses himself split his scalp into identical, surfboard ready waves of black follicles. He gestures to the loving couple to follow him to the reserved alcove. Jenae steadies herself on Chase's shoulder as they descend into a knee high wooden, parquet pit. Their legs slide in comfortably under a bamboo table; they sit on embroidered silk cushions imported from Afghanistan. The waiter leaves a leather wrapped menu next to the row of flickering tea candles on the table.
    "I'll give you two a few minutes,” he says.
    Chase scans the lounge. He inhales the savory smells of slow grilled seasoned meats and pressure cooked saffron rice. He absorbs the dark amber light of the recessed lighting. His eyes return to, and rest on, his beloved.
    “I like this place. It’s kind of dark and mysterious but still comforting. I would never have thought this was downstairs,” Chase says.
    "You're smiling,” she replies.
    ”You make me