SHORT FILM BASED ON BOOK "Slow Burn"
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ebony Farashuu, a Tulsa, Oklahoma native is a spoken word poet and award-winning author. In 2003, she received Honorable mention in the Self Published Author Awards Poetry Book of the Year for her debut book: Butterfly Kisses: Poetry for the Many Faces of Love. She is the Co-host of The Corner Bookstore, an hour-long segment on Tulsa radio station 1340 The Groove. She is an active member of the Tulsa chapter of Sisters Sippin' Tea, an international African American literary group. Her interviews with best-selling authors such as Omar Tyree, Karen E. Quinones Miller, and J.D. Mason have appeared on TheGRITS. com and in The Philadelphia New Observer.
Ebony recently won the Shades Of Romance Magazine’s Readers Choice Awards 2008 in the following categories, Best Multi-Cultural Fiction Book, for her novel, SLOW BURN, Best Multi-Cultural Fiction Author of 2008 and Best New Multi-Cultural Fiction Author of 2008.
Chapter 5 of "Slow Burn"
Ayzha Nicole Darwin
Thunder is the sound that lightening makes. I saw him leaning towards me smiling his electric smile, and heard his voice telling me all of the things I thought I wanted to hear. The low rumblings made me shiver. His cautious touch sent a jolt of raw energy through my body.
“So, when can I see you again?”
It reminded me of an old Babyface song. I loved the acoustic guitar on that track; and as I sat inside of Tyree’s car watching storm clouds slowly descend upon the park where we’d chosen to meet discreetly, that song played over and over in my mind.
I wasn’t doing anything wrong. We talked. I didn’t touch him, not even when he placed his hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. I didn’t squeeze back so I was pretty sure it couldn’t be called holding hands.
“You shouldn’t be seeing me now,” I said glancing over at him.
His dark eyes flashed with amusement and a satisfied smirk eased itself over his face...
“I do believe the lady is still afraid.”
“Of you? Whatever.” I dismissed his assessment of my emotions with a wave of my hand.
“I want to kiss you.” He said it so simply he may as well have been telling me that he liked the color blue.
“What makes you think that I want to kiss you?”
“You’re here.” Tyree fingered the lace at the hem of my pink skirt.
He had no right to touch my skirt, had no right to squeeze my exposed knee, but I did nothing to stop him, just took a controlled breath and stared at his hand stroking my leg so familiarly.
“I’m leaving,” I said evenly.
“Now, you know you’re not leaving until I get my kiss.”
“Then I guess we’ll be stuck here for a very long time.” “Would that be so bad?” Now, he was tracing lazy circles on my bare arm, “Stuck here with me in the middle of a storm?”
I didn’t answer. I reached for the door handle. He reached for my hand. I froze.
“I have to get back. I’ll be late.” I almost sounded as if I were begging.
“I know. The sooner I get my kiss the sooner you can leave.”
I took another deep breath, and then another, and then another. Panic was beginning to sink in but I couldn’t allow him to see the affect he was having on me...