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 Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended 


We see more of Noelle and  a whole lot more of Trey.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Sitting in traffic on a hot May afternoon was not Trey Powell’s idea of being productive. He had been in Laurel, Maryland early that morning for his managerial research and design meeting.

 It had been a long day overseeing the new designs for the fifty million dollar radio prototype for the Phoenix land vehicle. It was not the biggest contract that he had with the Department of Defense, but it had the potential of bringing in much more revenue in the future than all of the others.

  He was more than ready to start his long Memorial Day Weekend.  Driving on I-95 on any day was a trial, but a Friday on a holiday weekend was even worse if that could have been possibly.

Trey knew that it would take an extra hour for him to get home from his offices in downtown D.C., where he had mistakenly left his keys to his house last night. 

 He was leaving the city after his dinner engagement tonight with Mrs. Wells; he had planned on taking her to a play to help her celebrate her sixty second birthday. Jayne had worked for him for the past nine years and had been a faithful worker and friend. She didn’t have any family living in the area, so he felt the need to stand in and take her out.

 Her two daughters lived in Georgia and North Carolina with their families, and would be coming to town for the weekend. There had been many a night when he had been invited over to her house for dinner and conversation. She treated him like a son, but was respectful of the fact that he was still her boss. He treated her like a favorite aunt and her husband Cliff who had died three year ago had been like an uncle.

He was not close to his parents but was to his siblings, to say that his parents were distant and cold for most of their life was truly an understatement. They had been more interested in their social and political causes than in child rearing. His parents were better suited to dealing with adults than children.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          There  There was no love lost between the Powell siblings and their parents. They had basically sent their children away to board at The Meriwether Academy from K-12th grade.

Their housekeeper, Mrs. Francis had been more of a mother to the Powell children than their own mother. Trey recognized that he didn’t want a woman like his mother for a wife and mother to his children and he didn’t want to be a man like his father.

  His mother, Gale was a hard and cold woman, only interested in what the people in her social registry could do for her. His father was content to let her do what she wanted as long as she left him to own devices. Trenton II had been an avid boater since childhood and could be found anywhere there was a major boating event.

 If only they could have had such passion for their offspring, life would have been much happier at the Powell residence. 

 Trey realized that he was tired of the women that were in his circle that only seemed to want a relationship with him based on his family name and money. Needless to say it seemed like there were a whole lot of gold diggers in his circle.

 After swinging by his office, he made it to Georgetown by 5:30, but with it being a Friday afternoon parking spaces where at a premium. He drove past the store and found one half a block down from it that was big enough for his Audi Q7 SUV. 

As Trey was buzzed into I.N. Jeweler he was greeted by a dark blond young man sitting at the reception desk.

“Hello sir. How may I help you”? Eric said in a polite tone.

He admired Trey’s stylishly hair cut dark hair, navy waistcoat and silk blue and white striped tie with his white shirt sleeves rolled up to tanned forearms and black shoes in one swiftly appraising glance.

 “Hi, I’m Trenton Powell and I’m here to pick up my purchase.” he said to the young man.

 “Yes Mr. Powell, Let me go and check on that for you.”  While the baby-faced clerk went off to retrieve the gift, a pendant for Jayne, he looked around the store, admiring the jewelry and art work that was predominately displayed around the store.

There were two glass pieces that really captured his attention and he walked closer to read the labels. They were both by Dale Chihuly, one was a glass sculpture called ‘Honey Suckle Blue Persian w/ Yellow Lip Wrap’. The other was called ‘Violet Grey Persian Set with Indian Yellow wrap’.

  The glass sculptures were visually appealing and he made a mental note to see if they were for sale, either one would fit in with the décor of his Bethesda home or Foggy Bottom penthouse.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Powell”, said the clerk and Trey turned, “The pendant that you ordered isn’t quite ready yet. If you don’t mind we can have it delivered to you at your home by one of the associates.” the young man said to Trey.

 “That would be fine. I need it to be there by 6:30.” he told the young man.

 “Yes, sir, it will be delivered by then. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

“That fine, no harm done”, said Trey and after verifying his home address and inquiring about the glass sculpture he made his way out of the store.

Trey decided that since the evening was becoming quite warm that he would pick out a different suit to wear than the one he had already chosen, he didn’t want to wear anything that would be uncomfortable. His apartment was in the Foggy Bottom Community in the Langdon Building which had been in existence since the early 1900’s.

The penthouse was centrally located between his Laurel facilities and his home in Bethesda; he’d lived there since college. Trey drove to the underground parking garage and made his way to the lobby of the twenty-five story building and spoke to the doorman Dennis and asked if flowers had been delivered yet.

“No," Mr. Trey they haven’t yet, but I will bring them up as soon as they arrive.” The older man promised. The man still had a trace of his Irish accent even though he’d lived in the States for years and looked very dapper in the burgundy jacket, white shirt and striped tie that was the uniform of the building.

“I’m also expecting a delivery of jewelry from I.N. Jewelers can you please send them up when they arrive.” He instructed before riding his elevator up.  


 “If you don’t stop calling me, I’m going to take out a restraining order against you Antron!” Noelle Hendricks shouted into the cell phone before snapping it closed.

She couldn’t believe she had wasted three year of her life with a playa like Antron Kendall, newscaster for the local Fox Channel. How a man so smart and in the public eye like he was had expected to keep his affairs with other women a secret was a mystery to Noelle.

She was still fuming over the fact that he had gotten her new phone number when she entered the store lobby to pick up the delivery that Eric had pleaded with her had to be taken to a VIP customer before 6:30.

 Eric wasn’t at his usual post when she entered the lobby of the store to buzz her into the main sales floor and she punched in the code to allow her to gain access. Eric came from the back room with their signature black and silver bag, and saw Noelle had let herself in.

“Hi Eric, I need to go, I’m double parked so can I have the address please?” she said to her colleague. Eric Stanfield was a fellow student at Georgetown working on his degree in International Financing.

“Here you go Noelle and thanks again, I owe you big time. The address is on a piece of paper in the bag.” The dark blonde haired man told her,

“Not a problem, lucky for you I was in the area.” She said taking the bag from him. She had worked for the owner Ian and Nicole Sullivan for year since she had been a teen.

 Noelle missed the admiring stare Eric sent her as she hustled out the door; he had stopped asking her out when she told him that she didn’t date co-workers.

 She was always well dressed and the knee length, spaghetti strapped dress with large blue, black and red flowers on a white background was cool and summery. Her feet were in silver thong sandals and her dark hair was long and loose around her medium brown shoulders.

She had told him once that her ancestors were from Panama and Trinidad and he thought it made for a beautiful combination.

Noelle jumped back into her Audi Q5 thanking the parking gods that she had not gotten a ticket and put on her seatbelt before shifting into drive and pulling away.

She pulled the slip of paper out of the bag and looked at it quickly; it was only about 10 minutes away and she turned up the Brian Culbertson and Avante song she had been listening to before she got the annoying phone call from her ex.

She wasn’t happy that someone had given him the number and she was going to have to be more careful with whom she gave her number to and she was going to block his number as soon as she got the chance.

Noelle was familiar with the area, having worked and attended school at Georgetown for the past three years.

 She had decided to pursue her Master’s degree at Georgetown after completing her B.S from Howard after the untimely death of her parents. She had been an only child and close to her parents and their deaths in a mining accident had been a hard blow for the twenty-two year old.

 Noelle had found it impossible to focus on school and she had taken off a year in which she had volunteered as a reading mentor at program for elementary school kids.  Being around the youthful enthusiasm of the children had gone some ways towards healing the void in her life caused by the loss but she had still gone home to an empty house.

Noelle had finally decided to lease the house to a married couple who worked at Howard while she had bought an apartment in a trendier neighborhood with a younger demographic.

 She left her car to be valet parked and stopped at the front desk to speak to the doorman.

“Hi, my name is Noelle and I’m here to drop off a delivery from I.N. Jewelers to Mr. Trey Powell.” She said politely to the older man.

“Yes, Mr. Powell is expecting you. You take this elevator.” The man told her going over to unlock it with a key he had on a bunch. Noelle thanked him and rode up in the private elevator to the twenty-fifth floor admiring the Impressionist print wondering if it was an original.

 The elevator rose swiftly and soon the doors opened into the lobby of his penthouse and she opened the door with the P1 on the door as instructed. The foyer didn’t give any indication of what to expect as she rounded the corner and a very masculine living room opened up to a panoramic view which included Roosevelt Island.

Her breath was taken away with the décor of the apartment as much as the view. The walls were painted a creamy tan color and several large colorful paintings were hung to break up the monotony and most of the furniture was shades of a chocolaty brown. Two sofas sat flanking a highly polished round table with a glass face where a glass vase sat filled with orange tulips

“Hello.” She called remembering why she was there but received no answer. Noelle wandered further into the penthouse looking for the occupant and realized she could hear an electric shaver running and she walked towards the sound.

“Hello?” she said again, still no reply. Noelle walked into what turned out to be a very masculine brown and cream man’s bedroom with a minimalistic leather headboard and platform raised bed and saw a black suit lying across it. 

 Noelle didn’t want to leave the bag without saying anything to the customer, but this was highly inappropriate. Just as that thought occurred to her the razor turned off and the water turned on in the adjoining bathroom.

 Noelle started to back out of the room when a pair of tight naked buns appeared and she froze. While she had been focusing on the room and its contents, the other occupant of the penthouse appeared in her sight. 

She saw the front of a naked, muscular, well endowed, white man in the large mirror as he rubbed his face with a big hand. He walked to the marble bathroom counter to put his razor down and apply his aftershave.

Noelle stood there in a daze with her mouth agape she had not seen such prime beef cake in a loooong, loooong time.   




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