Deisel, A Jamaican Love Story – Part 11

First Episode - DEISEL
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Episode Eleven

The Complete Series

  2019 ©    All rights reserved.



She exited the restroom.  We almost bumped into each other.  The other young lady, her friend, I would have assumed, exited the restroom also.  She glanced at me through the corner of her eyes, in a blushing sort of way, and then she walked back to join the guy at the table.  And then I focused my eyes on her friend, the one that’s standing before me.  I was somehow attracted to her naive guileless look.  I loved the brown linings at the end of her dark shoulder-length hair, I loved her dark brown eyes, which seemed clueless as to what, where or whom to focus on.  I had such high regards for that short red velvet dress she had on, the way it cloaked her almost-petite body like a chocolate wrapper but truth is, too much of that beautiful skin of hers was in hiding.  If Hale-berry had a long-lost sister, then this could be her, here in Jamaica.  I want this girl, tonight, no matter what it takes, I sad in the back of my head.


She was about to walk past me to rejoin her friends over at the table.  I needed to say something to her.  I was at a lost for word; this was so unlike me.  The words would just come and then they’ll flow, and that’s when I approach women (the few times I do).  They do the approaching most times.  Now was different though.  This girl, maybe no older than 22, had me muted in adoration.   Had to say something to her, if it was even some sort of crap, before she rejoined her friends at the table.


    “I see your date stood you up tonight, hasn’t he?” I uttered.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, looking me over from head to toes.

My heart skipped a beat or two.  “A beautiful evening like this is something never to be wasted.  Why would he even not show up?”

“What…what are you talking about, Mister?  And, who are you again?”

Maybe she wasn’t so naive.  The way she folded those lips it was obvious she wasn’t a ‘born yesterday girl’.  I was liking this.  And those lips, how comes I didn’t take notice of them? I said in the back of my head.  I needed them.   I wanted them.

“Forgive my manners.  I’m Sloan.”  I extended a hand.

She was obviously examining the fingers on my left hand.  And then she accepted my handshake.  Smart girl.  I wasn’t wearing a ring.  Lucky me.  She tilted her angular chin upward, warily looking me in the eyes. Cautious girl, isn’t she?

“Didn’t get your name?”

“That’s because it’s not a big deal.”

Ok then, so my new friend is a ‘little-miss-hard-to get’.  “If you want, I could accompany you to your table.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary, Mr….Sloan, or whomever you say you are.”

“I understand how hurt you are because your boyfriend didn’t show up this evening.  Maybe it’s unforeseen circumstances.  Forgive him. We men are a piece of crap at times.”

She smiled. Yeah, I got her to smile. That’s the first step to success. And then she said, “and what do you know?”

“Not much,” I grinned, “but I’ve figured a thing or two.”  Now, I had been accompanying her to her table.  The poor thing didn’t even realize.


“Hi, all.  I’m Sloan,” I greeted after pulling her chair out. She looked me over, from head to heels again.  And then she took her seat.

The other female at the table greeted my eyes with interest and then she leaned over giving me a handshake.  She held my hand firmly.  “I’m Marcy, Deisel’s friend…”  She was given this sharp eye-pierce from Deisel, which she ignored.

So that’s your name, I whispered.

And her friend went on, “ and this is my boyfriend, Marlon.”

Marlon and I touched fists.  “Greetings, Bro.”   I really couldn’t help noticing his wedding ring on his finger.  Isn’t this something all of us men do?  We have varying reasons but we do it.

“Could I borrow your friend for a little while, like having her sit at my table?”

Marlon looked at Marcy and then they both looked at her.

“It’ll be my honour to take good care of her and I promise I’ll return her,” I laughed.  I was serious though, about taking good care of her. About returning her – I wasn’t too serious.

“Oh, sure. Go on Deisel.  Have fun,” her friend said.  Deisel looked on as if she could punch just Marcy on the lips.

I held my left hand akimbo, waiting for her to join me.  She got up and then she walked toward my table.  I followed and upon reaching, I pulled the chair out for her to sit.  I liked her legs but I was going to keep my eyes under subjection.  I wasn’t going to make them lead me astray, at least, not yet.

I sat, facing her.  I needed to stare into those pair of eyes.  And I needed to continue loving those lips of hers, from a distance.  Sitting beside her would have made it so easier for me to touch her velvet skin but right now just seeing her was more important.  Touching her would be for later that night.

“So, Deisel… Quite a rare name you’ve got there.  That’s the reason you refrained from giving it to me?”

Sitting around the table, she rested her chin on her folded knuckles.  Beautiful fingers.  I want to have them pedicured twice per week, I mumbled in the back of my head.  And if her are toes are even half as pretty as her fingers then I’ll lick them every day.

“Why would I want to give away my name to you? I love I my name, Mister Sir.”  She would take intermittent glances at her friends at the other table across the room.

“I could give you mine…my last name, that is.”

I heard the way her chair grated against the ceramic tiles.  She was about to leave the table but I said, “Earlier, you said your name’s not a big deal but it is.”


She stopped. “And why’s my name a big deal?”

“Because it’s beautiful.  I’ve never heard that one before.”

She smiled.  “It’s spelled – ‘Deisel’ but pronounced ‘Dis-elle’.

   “Wow!  Lovely.”

“So, you don’t think my name is stupid?”

“Course, not.  It sounds European. I guess there must be some interesting story to you, a Jamaican girl, being given this pretty name.”

“Well, yes, but I won’t get into that now,” she fanned.

“When I see you next, you make sure you tell me the story behind that name.”  I extended a finger toward hers.


“Next, as in tomorrow?”

“I see you’ve got jokes, Mr. Sloan-Charming.”

“What can I get you to drink?”

“No, thanks. I really don’t sit with strangers, much less accepting drinks from them.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything heavy.”  I swiftly looked through the menu. “You could have cranberry cocktail.”

“Look, Mr. Sloan.  It was a pleasure talking to you.  I, think, I should be joining my friends now.”

We both looked across the room.  “Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Deisel,” I smiled. “Maybe your friends could use a room upstairs.”  Marcy and Marlon kissed as if they had been in a room by themselves, a world by themselves.


Deisel tried smiling off her embarrassment after seeing her friend, Marcy’s, legs in the air even though she had still been around that table.

“Sloan, I’m nothing like her, ok?”

“Who said you were, Deisel?”

She folded her arms. “Just letting you know, just in case you had hopes of putting your hands underneath my dress.”

I coughed. And then I cleared my throat. “You’re kind of blunt, Deisel.”  Well, of course, I had that in mind. In fact, I had planned on putting much more than my hands.  “Deisel, listen, I don’t just jump on women like that.  I’m more interested in the story behind your name than what you’re wearing or what you didn’t wear under your dress.”

She breathed relief but she pursed her lips.

“So, can we go for walk?  The pool to the back is lovely.”

Another glance at her friend’s table made her realize she would have now been out of place if she had returned.  They weren’t ready for Deisel to return yet.  She needed to have tantalizing fun of her own.  And, that’s where I come in.

“Ok, we’ll go for a walk, a walk and nothing but a walk, but let me warn you, Mr. Sloan, I don’t know you and I didn’t bring my pepper-spray, but if you ever think of trying something, then I just want you to know I have a few skills,” she pointed.

“Someone’s watched the movie ‘Taken’, I grinned.




The End Of Episode Eleven.

Come back next week to see what happens.


This fictional series contain the names of characters, places, events and a storyline that exists only in the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual events, persons alive or not is a coincidence. 

This publication is intended for readers who are twenty one years of age or older and was created only for entertainment.

All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, duplication or copying of any part of this publication in any form or by whatever means is strictly prohibited unless consent is given by the author.


Individuals pictured are models and are used for illustrative purposes.


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