I Saw Your Profile Read online

  Her eyes became misty as she recalled a business trip her father had to take when she was little. She had a tantrum and begged him not to go. He left anyway, but she remembered the tears in his eyes as he walked out the door, and the huge stuffed animal he had for her when he came back.

  Her father was her first love and his death was the hardest thing she ever had to get over.

  She always wanted to marry a man just like him.

  That day, she believed Chauncey was that man.

  Chapter Six

  All day Janelle Carter listened to women talk about their love lives while she did their hair. She made them beautiful for their first dates with I-Hope-He’s-Mr. Right. For He’ll-Probably-Come-By-for-a Booty-Call-Tonight.

  And for their weddings to I-Finally-Found-Mr. Right.

  They talked about how good or bad their men were in bed. How many times they made them come. How they couldn’t wait to do it again. How they wouldn’t waste their time.

  To them, she was just the hairdresser who kept their secrets.

  What they didn’t know was she had a secret of her own.

  Janelle cruised LoveMeBlack.com regularly checking out men and taking on the personas of her clients.

  She was never Janelle Carter, the overweight, divorced mother of two who spent most nights home alone. That is unless she was in the chat room for overweight women, the most popular chat room on LoveMeBlack.com on Saturday nights. The topic was usually “Big Beautiful and Loving It,” and they mostly talked about sex.

  Janelle didn’t have a profile. She emailed men who did. When they asked for a picture, she sent them the one taken when she was a hundred and twenty-five pounds at her bachelorette party the night before she married Alvin. When she was cute and sexy. Online she could be anyone she wanted.

  Monica, the five-foot-seven, one hundred twenty-pound probation officer.

  Vivian, the sexy social worker.

  Linda, the tough assistant commonwealth’s attorney.

  Her salon was on Bank Street, near the John Marshall Courts Building so she got a lot of courthouse employees. And their lives were certainly more exciting than hers.

  She never met any of the men she emailed because she’d be exposed. Whenever it got to that point, she just disappeared. She got her fun from the attention she received online.

  Janelle didn’t like to go out. Fat women eating alone in restaurants or standing alone in line at the movies always drew attention, and not the good kind. Pity stares and snickering behind their backs.

  Who needed it? Especially when the World Wide Web had so much to offer?

  One day, as she was checking out men in the D.C. area, she came across a massage therapist using his profile as an ad for his business, Touch You Tender. She was mesmerized by the image of the tall, black stallion.

  And her clients would love what he was selling.

  Massage therapy services provided at reasonable rates. Full or partial body. Egyptian pedicures, hand and foot reflexology. Willing to travel. All in the privacy and comfort of your own home or business. Group rates available. Contact Chauncey.

  The masseuse sent his price list and she made the arrangements. He and his partner would provide their services over two days, Friday and Saturday. She would get a twenty percent cut, and she figured the publicity would generate more business for the shop.

  They had thirty-minute and sixty-minute time slots. Janelle booked mostly massages and a few facials. No one signed up for reflexology because they didn’t know what it was and neither did she.

  She made reservations at a motel close to the salon since he didn’t know the area. They would provide their own supplies, but she had to provide the ambience.

  She cleared out her storage area to make room for the massage tables and used a bamboo partition to divide the area. Two women could receive massages at a time.

  Janelle and a few stylists would keep open their stations since several clients booked hair appointments following their massages.

  Chauncey and his partner arrived an hour before the pamper party to set up.

  “Thank you for having us,” he said. He licked his lips and extended his hand. “I’m sure this weekend will be profitable for all of us.”

  Janelle shook his hand but never saw it because her eyes were fixated on his body, which looked as though it had been sculpted from onyx.

  “Was the drive long?” Janelle asked in her Kewpie doll voice.

  “A couple of hours. We made good time despite traffic. And the accommodations you chose for us are just fine. Clean and affordable.”

  He explained that Tender Touch was a sole proprietorship. He hired masseurs to help him with large parties.

  He introduced her to Max, his partner for that weekend. She shook his hand.

  Max was fair skinned and ripped. Larger than Chauncey, but less talkative. He was pretty-boy handsome with broad shoulders, wavy hair, and a short beard.

  He helped Janelle place incense, candles, chips and plates of fruit and cheese at each station, while Chauncey set up the tables in the back room.

  Chauncey had given four massages when he got a half-hour break in his schedule. Janelle was between clients so he sauntered to her station and helped himself to some fruit and cheese.

  “Would you like a massage? No charge for the hostess.”

  “No thanks,” Janelle said. “I’ve got a client coming in twenty minutes.”

  “How about twenty minutes of reflexology, then?”

  “What exactly is that?”

  “It’s an ancient healing art. When you treat the big toes there is a related effect in the head, and treating the whole foot can have a relaxing and healing effect on the whole body.”

  “Okay. How much harm could a little foot rubbing do?”

  Janelle had no idea how erogenous feet could be. It was all she could do to keep from having an orgasm on the spot.

  “How many parties do you do?”

  “As many as I can. At least one a month. I’m on the road a lot.”

  “Do you only do parties?”

  “No. I have regular massage clients, too.”

  Chauncey stopped rubbing her feet when Janelle’s client arrived.

  When he stood up, she noticed him staring at her. She felt her face.

  It was warm and she was breathing slightly faster. She wondered if he could tell that her insides were throbbing.

  He smiled. “How do you feel?”

  Janelle was embarrassed. She jumped up and hurriedly began straightening her station with her back towards him.

  “That was relaxing. Thanks,” she said without turning around.

  When Chauncey finished with his last client, he asked her to dinner the next evening.

  Her eyes opened as wide as quarters. Based on the rave reviews from the women he serviced that evening, he could have anyone he wanted. She figured he’d gotten at least a dozen phone numbers.

  Without accepting his dinner invitation, Janelle wrote her home number on the back of a business card and handed it to him.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Why me?” Janelle’s insecurity oozed through the phone line when Chauncey called her the next morning.

  “Why not you?”

  “I’m sure you had your choice of women from the pamper party. Women a lot prettier than me.”

  “You are just as pretty as any of the ladies I met last night, and it’s not what’s on the outside that matters to me.”

  “Since when are men not interested in a woman’s looks?”

  “You have obviously been dealing with the wrong men. And someone has hurt you pretty badly if you can’t believe that a man would find you attractive. I enjoyed talking to you and I’d like the chance to get to know you better. So will you have dinner with me tonight after the pamper party wraps up or not?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Don’t knock me down with your enthusiasm.”

  “I’m sorry. Sure, I’d love to
have dinner with you.”

  Chauncey and Janelle had dinner at the Hard Shell, a seafood restaurant in Richmond’s cobblestone historic district. Afterwards, they went to Shockoe Bottom, a trendy section of Richmond, for drinks and a live show.

  At one in the morning, they found themselves talking in his truck outside her condo. They were both born in the Caribbean and raised by single mothers. She never knew her father. He spent little time with his.

  She left Jamaica as a child and was sent to the states to live with a family friend. She became a citizen, married young and wrong. Two children. Divorced. Looking for Mr. Right.

  He left Barbados as an adult and spent several years in Europe before coming to America on a temporary visa. He was divorced with one son.

  She liked his accent. She knew little of her own culture and what accent she did have, she lost growing up in Miami.

  He suggested she spend time in Jamaica.

  “I’ve been there a few times to see my mother. But our relationship is so rocky; I’ve never stayed that long. I would like to, but it hurts.”

  Chauncey lifted her chin with his finger and turned Janelle toward him. “Water does run, but blood does clod.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a Barbadian saying. It’s like when Americans say, ‘blood is thicker than water.’ You’ll work it out with your mother one day. Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  He got out of the truck, walked to the passenger side and let her out. He held her hand as he escorted her up the stairs. Chauncey took her face in his hand and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “Goodnight, Janelle.”

  “I had a good time,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad. Maybe next time I’m in town we can see a movie. I’ll call you.”

  Chapter Seven

  K

  enny’s cologne lingered on Arianna’s dress. The scent turned her on even though its owner turned her off.

  She stepped in her bedroom shower and got the water as hot as she could stand. She poured a glob of body wash onto a sponge and scrubbed herself from head to toe.

  The steam enhanced the scent of the soapy liquid. She inhaled deeply, allowing the aroma to travel through her body and soothe each muscle on its way down.

  She washed and conditioned her hair. As the conditioner set, she pulled the shower nozzle from its perch, leaned against the wall and opened her legs.

  The water tickled her spot. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Michael’s tongue. She moaned.

  She slid to the floor and put one leg on the wall and the other on the shower door, a position that allowed her to feel the full force of the water pressure.

  Her body jerked up and down and side-to-side like she was having an epileptic seizure. Afterwards, she snatched the tongue away and lay there until her breathing returned to normal.

  She opened her eyes, stood up and leaned against the wall while she got her bearings. She returned the showerhead to its home and rinsed the conditioner from her hair. For the first time that day, she was completely relaxed.

  Then the date started replaying in her head. Suddenly no amount of aromatherapy could protect her from the image of an obese Kenny.

  In all that time, it never occurred to him to say, ‘By the way, if you’re not into Budda bruthas I ain’t the one.’

  For a moment, laughter replaced anger as she grabbed a jar of homemade sugar scrub and exfoliated her skin. As she stepped out of the shower, her laughter turned to guilt. Should his looks really matter that much?

  Wrapped in a towel, Arianna went to the kitchen and made a cup of peppermint tea. She took it to her bedroom where she slipped into a black, silk nightshirt and grabbed the Pearl Cleage novel her book club was reading. She lit a jasmine incense stick before sliding under the covers.

  She tried to read, but Pearl couldn’t take her mind off Kenny.

  What did she have to feel guilty about? She couldn’t help whom she was attracted to.

  She wasn’t just mad at him, but at herself, too. She wasn’t usually one to hold her tongue.

  Why didn’t I tell him the truth? I was so worried about sparing his feelings; I let him get away with lying to me.

  She yanked off the covers and went downstairs to her office, turned on the computer and logged onto her email account.

  Her inbox contained mostly junk and a few shout-outs from guys at LoveMeBlack.com, but Kenny Washington had all of her attention. She clicked the mouse to compose an email.

  Kenny,

  I wanted to tell you this at dinner, but I didn’t want to come off as rude or insensitive. The fact is I don’t want to be more than friends with you because I am not attracted to overweight men. You lied to me and I don’t appreciate it. You had many opportunities to tell me about your weight and you never did. The pictures that you sent gave no indication of what you look like today. I don’t know where we go from here, but I had to get this off my chest.

  Arianna

  She hit the send button and went back to bed where sleep fell on her like a magic spell.

  The cordless phone on the nightstand shrieked, tearing Arianna away from the nameless, faceless lover in her dream.

  “Shit! Who the hell is calling me this time of night?”

  Once she was shocked back to reality, the details of the dream escaped her. It annoyed the hell out of her when she couldn’t remember her dreams. The vague memory would haunt her all day like a melody that gets stuck in your head, but the words remain elusive.

  She snatched the receiver from its cradle.

  “Hello!” Bass notes drowned all traces of femininity from her waking voice.

  “Uh – is Arianna there?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Arianna? I thought you were a dude. It didn’t sound like you. This is Kenny.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s about quarter after two. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “If you didn’t want to wake me up why are you calling me so late?”

  “I just got your email.”

  “And?”

  “And I wanted to talk about it.”

  “It couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow?”

  “No. I wanted to talk about it now. I can’t believe what you said.”

  “Look, Kenny, I am not about to have this conversation with you this late at night. I’m going back to sleep. If you want to talk about this when the sun comes up, call me back. Goodnight.”

  She slammed down the phone before he had a chance to respond. This time, she didn’t give a damn about his feelings.

  The shrill sound of someone wanting to communicate yanked her from dreamland again at seven.

  The caller ID told her it was her mad friend from Delaware.

  “What’s up Kenny?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry about calling so late, but I was really upset.”

  “Well, now you’re calling earlier than I like to answer the phone, but go ahead, I’ll let you get this off your chest.”

  “Did I really turn you off that much?”

  “I didn’t say you turned me off, Kenny. I said I’m not attracted to overweight men. And you weren’t honest about it. That’s what really pisses me off.”

  “I thought I told you that I gained a few pounds?”

  “No, you didn’t. And we’re not talking about a few pounds. You are much bigger in person than you were in those pictures you emailed me.”

  “Is it really that serious? I’m the same guy with the same personality you’ve been spending hours with on the phone. Does the weight make that much difference?”

  “Kenny, we’ve been communicating for three months. You know I’m into health and fitness. I work out every day. And I watch what I eat. I told you all that. Now, you told me that you didn’t work out, but you damn sure didn’t tell me you had a weight problem and the pictures you sent didn’t tell me that either. So basically, you lied.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

&n
bsp; “Whatever. You deceived me. Call it what you want. The sin of omission versus the sin of commission.”

  “Why are you being so damn superficial?”

  “Don’t turn this around on me. I’m not superficial. I can’t help who I’m attracted to. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to be the only person in the relationship with breasts. My thirty-six double Ds should be enough for the both of us. ”

  Kenny laughed. “They’re that big, huh?”

  “Let’s keep it real. Most men don’t want to date fat women or women with flat chests or flat butts. There is some physical quality a woman must have before they will date her. And you probably have one too. If I were ugly or fat, would you have responded to my profile? Be honest.”

  “Probably not. I don’t know.

  “Probably? Come on, Kenny. You know damn well if I were the one weighing over two hundred pounds you would have kept going right past me to the next profile. You men kill me. It’s okay for you to have your preferences, but when a sista is choosy, she’s either stuck up or a gold digger.”

  “All right, you made your point. Tell you what, since you are the queen of fitness, how about you work with me to help me get fit, too?”

  “As friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  Arianna smiled. She was relieved to unload those feelings, and since she had enjoyed Kenny’s company, she was glad they would be spending more time together.

  The drama with Kenny made Arianna nervous about seeing in person anyone else she met online. Most of her friends and family thought her experience was funny and didn’t hesitate to share their opinion.

  Her cousin thought talking online was okay, but actually meeting someone was too dangerous. Her sister-in-law knew two women who met their husbands online and suggested she keep trying.