50 Shades Of Black: A Fictitious Exotic Journey For “The Best Part”

Souls Uniting Under an African Sky

A surprise museum trip leads Zena and Maximus to an evening of deep conversation, wild passion, and heavenly bliss.

Zena lies in bed — thinking of a turn of events that is wonderful, unexpected, and a little bit scary.

I never knew that a great conversation could lead to the most electrifying kiss that sends waterfalls flowing into the crevasses of my thighs. My thoughts are racing toward a future I have always dreamt of — but the reality of the situation makes me apprehensive.

Oh, my God. I can’t lose my job. Was the kiss at the Taco Take Out a momentary situation to be forgotten in the morning? I will see and give me the courage to face the truth.

That was the best night’s sleep I have had in a long time. I am so glad today is Saturday, because I can’t imagine facing Maximus in the office. We probably need time to think about the kiss we shared and where we want to take this. Or maybe he is not thinking about it at all? Who am I fooling? He has probably done this before with other “fine” sistas who have worked at his firm. I need to wake up and stay woke.

Zena reaches over to get her phone from the nightstand.

Wow, it’s already 11 a.m. I need to get up and get to the gym. I wonder if Maximus has my cell phone number — he didn’t ask for it. But I feel energized.

Traffic is getting so bad. You know it is when it’s a Saturday and I’m still driving. My body is feeling that workout. I will go home and make me a chicken breast and eat a small salad. I wonder if Maximus has a Facebook account.

Oh! I never knew I could look at his page without being added as a friend …

The car behind Zena honks the horn impatiently. Okay, I’m going. People have no patience. Get on my nerve.

Zena rushes into her apartment to finish looking at Maximus’ Facebook page.

Who wants to look at nature on Facebook? Maximus must be the only brother alive who doesn’t put more of his personal business on Facebook. Let me look at his photos. I know there must be a photo of his girlfriend or girls he has dated. I wonder if they look like me. Am I his type?

Bing! Zena’s phone lights up with a friend request.

Oh my God, Maximus must have some magic powers. Can he see me looking at his page? I never know about this Facebook stuff. Let me add my man.

Immediately, a message: “Had a great time last night with great conversation. Best time in a long time. But, never got your number? Maximus.”

Okay, what’s my number? I never call myself. I am so crazy.

Zena messages back: “Yes, I also had a great time. Just got back from gym. (Yes, keeping it tight my brother. Ha-ha). My number is 404-555-1869.

The text comes in an instant: “I’m going to a museum later this afternoon. You want to come? Max.”

Hell yeah I do. But I can’t say that — don’t want to seem thirsty.

“What time?’

“Well, if you are busy, I understand.”

“No, I am not too busy and I can be ready around 4 p.m., if that is good.”

“That will be perfect. Text me your address and I will be there at 4?”

Zena takes a deep breath and thinks about something profound to message, but realizes she is taking too long to respond. She texts, “OK.”

I was all ready to see some art by Picasso, but we arrived at the African Art Museum that I am embarrassed to say I never knew existed. Maximus parks right in front of the museum and I was surprised that no other cars were there. He came around to the passenger side and opened my door and grabbed my hand to help me to my feet. This is a nice place I never knew about it.

Maximus gently takes his hand around my waist and leads Zena to the front door of the museum and then pulls some keys from his pocket to open the door.

“Is this your museum?”

“Well, you could say that. I am one of the investors. I love art — especially art that represents our ancestors.”

When we walk in, all is dark — and then Maximus turns on the lights and the magnificence of the colorful art and finely made sculptures takes my breath away. Maximus takes me on mental exploration journey, and describes the many artifacts in our gaze. The various rugs on the floors represent the different regions of our African motherland.

As we enter another room of the museum through beautiful French doors, I see a table for two set up with wine glasses, white tablecloth, white candles lit, and a bouquet of white roses. I placed my hands around my month in complete awe.

“I wanted to surprise you. No tacos tonight. I fixed one of my favorite dishes—I hope you like it?”

Yes, Lord. He cooks too.

Zena whispers to herself: “This is beautiful. Wow, this is absolutely fabulous.

“I thought we could finish our conversation about the world while enjoying this meal together,” Maximus said. “You are very special, Zena — and I want to get to know all of you. Your thoughts, your likes and your passions. All of it.”

Wake me up. He can’t be real. But we did just that. We ate, drank the most fabulous wine, and continued our conversation about my life and his travels around the world.

It was in Africa where he got the most unique artifacts. And what added to the perfect evening was the majestic Donny Hathaway music playing in our perfect “black” ground. I couldn’t help but notice the large fluffy rug in front of our table. He noticed my glance.

“That’s my favorite Alpaca rug from Peru. It is the softest rug I have ever touched.”

Maximus lays on the rug and reaches his hand out for me to join him. His dark skin looked like the Nile against the white rug that cradled his body. I felt my ancestors sing as our souls joined under the museum ceiling reminiscent of the Ivory Coast.