She Ain't The One

by Carl Weber

  “Oh yes, baby! Give it to me. Fuck me harder,” she pleaded. She was extremely loud. “That’s it, Jay! Harder! Harder! Please, I need it harder!”

  My dick felt like a rock it had gotten so hard. I spanked her ass a few times, and then she asked for more, begging me to slap it even harder. I felt like I was giving her all I had, but she kept screaming for more. I’m not going to lie; the whole damn thing was intoxicating.

  “Harder! Harder, Jay! I need you to beat this pussy up. C’mon. Is that all you got? Just imagine I’m that bitch of yours. I bet she won’t let you fuck her like this.”

  I was pissed, but extremely turned on. The more shit she talked, the harder I’d fuck her. I pushed her face into the mattress, then banged the shit out of her. She met me for every stroke, and we continued to fuck like we were both possessed for at least a half hour. Finally, she began jerking and trembling as her pussy tightened up around my dick, releasing warm, soothing female come all over my dick. Before I knew it, I’d come too.

  Ashlee’s legs had given out on her. She lay on her stomach, and I collapsed onto her back. We were both sweating and panting. “Was that what you were looking for?” I asked, still breathing heavily.

  She turned over to look at me. “Yes, and thank you. God, that felt good.”

  After several minutes, Tracy ran across my mind. I began to feel guilty about being there with Ashlee because I had truly enjoyed it. I wanted to jump up and go home, but I was too weak. After catching my breath, I rolled off her.

  I got up and walked over to her purse. “So, you’re gonna leave us alone now, right?”

  She sat up slowly with attitude. “Excuse me?”

  “You promised. You said you’d leave my family alone after this.” From the look she gave me, you might have thought I’d told her to go fuck herself.

  She grabbed a pillow, then popped me in the face. “I know you aren’t saying this is it, are you? Not after the way I just fucked you.”

  “It was good, but it doesn’t change anything. I want you to leave us alone.” I opened the purse and took out the envelope.

  “Get the fuck out of my bag, and get you ass over here. You ain’t going nowhere. We need to discuss our future.”

  “Don’t play games, Ashlee. We already had this discussion. We weren’t here to rekindle anything, and you know it.”

  “So, even after the sex we just had, you can just drop me?”

  “Ashlee, you knew. You said just one more time. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but I’m telling you, you better stick to your word. I’m not going to tolerate you messing with my family.”

  I started to put on my clothes, quickly tucking the envelope in my pocket. Ashlee sat on the bed, looking possessed. Her hair was a mess, and her eyeliner was smeared like black tears down the sides of her face. I tried to ignore her, but she started laughing.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at?” I asked.

  “You and your pitiful ass,” she said. “You love that heifer, don’t you? Or you’re with her because of the kid, right? Yeah. I should’ve known. It’s the kid. I knew I shouldn’t have brought him back.”

  I did a double take, then stopped buttoning my shirt. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” she said, laughing. “You were scared shitless, weren’t you? I took your kid, but after I realized how pathetic you were looking for him, I returned him. If I had known you were still gonna walk out on me, I would’ve duct-taped his mouth and his entire body, then thrown him in the Dumpster.”

  “You’re fucking crazy!” Before I had time to really think about it, I ran over to Ashlee and grabbed her neck. I pushed her back on the bed and mashed my knee into her stomach. “Leave us alone, Ashlee,” I said, watching her turn shades of blue and purple. “You hear me? Stay the fuck out of our lives.”

  I released her. She sat on the bed, coughing, trying to take in some air as I put on my shoes. I heard her manage to laugh a few more times in between gasps for air, but I tried to ignore it. All I could think about was getting the fuck out of there.

  I had started toward the door when she called out to me. I acted as if I didn’t hear her, but she caught me at the door and slammed it shut and blocked my exit.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch my face.

  I slapped her hand down. “Move, Ashlee, before I hurt you.”

  “Jay, I said I’m sorry. Why are you treating me this way? Is it because of that brat—I mean, surely you know I’d love your son too.”

  “I’m only gonna say this one time. If I think you’ve come anywhere close to me and my family, I’ll kill you.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, smirking. “Now, I’m getting a little tired of you. I’m going to give you one more chance to get back in bed. After that, I’m going to ruin your life and that bitch’s for good.”

  “No, you’re not.” I drew back my fist, but then caught myself. “Ashlee, I swear to God.” My fist was inches from her face.

  “Go ahead. Hit me. Do it! If that’s what you want to do, then do it.” She laughed and taunted me. “You’ve already raped me.”

  “Huh?” My hand dropped to my side. “I didn’t rape you.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  I opened the door, but was stopped when she slammed into it, headfirst. She was on the floor, startled and holding her head.

  What the fuck?

  She shook her head rapidly a few times, then got up. What started as laughter turned into a piercing scream for help.

  “Shut up! What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked.

  She made sounds like a growling wolf, then ran face first into the wall. Pictures fell off the wall, and she bounced onto the floor. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Ashlee got up and went into the bathroom. I couldn’t help but follow to see what she would do next. She had to be having a nervous breakdown. Her entire face was bloody, but that didn’t stop her from crashing her forehead into the mirror. Her face was covered with flowing, bloody stripes, but she continued to laugh. Before I could get out of the way, she latched on to me. She buried her face into my shirt and held on to my waist as she continued to scream.

  “Why?” she cried. “I know I said I didn’t want you anymore, but you didn’t have to rape me like this!”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “Look, Ashlee, this isn’t funny. I know what you’re up to, and it’s not going to work. No one is going to believe that I raped you.”

  “They’ll believe me now.” She reached out, scratching her fingernails across my face. “If I can’t have you, she sure as hell isn’t going to have you.”

  “Don’t do this, Ashlee. This isn’t funny. My life is not a game.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?” She took a deep breath, then screamed, “Rape! Somebody please help me! He raped me!”

  For the first time since I’d gotten there, I was truly scared. I ran out of the bathroom and headed right for the door. When I reached the hallway, I could still hear Ashlee screaming. What the fuck had I just gotten myself into?

  CHAPTER 28

  Ashlee

  So it’s been said, so I am living proof, women are smarter than men. What made Jay Crawford think he could give my dick and my engagement ring to another bitch, and I’d disappear at his command? So you’re gonna leave us alone, right?

  Looking back, I saw that Tracy was the reason Jay had asked me that night at Zanzibar, “Do you think a man can be friends with his ex?” His ass knew before he screwed me that he wanted to get back with her. I wasn’t some fuckin’ dog on a leash waiting for Master Jay’s instructions. My life wasn’t a game he could play at his leisure.

  Sit, Ashlee. Stand, Ashlee. Roll over, Ashlee. Fetch, Ashlee. Lie down and lick your wound, Ashlee. I was fed up to my blocked, manure-stuffed nostrils with whorish men rubbing my face in their bullshit.

  I didn’t give a damn if Webster’s dictionary defined a female dog as a bitch. From now on, I would be that female that sits only wh
en she gets good and ready, I’d stand when I fuckin’ well pleased, and I wasn’t rolling over for no man or begging him to love me or validate me!

  Never again would I be the victim. From now on, any man who used me, I’d serve him justice, branding his ass with my infrared pussy for life. Jay Crawford would never forget the third-degree burns of Ashlee Anderson. In about two minutes, he’d have zero doubt as to who wore the pants in our relationship.

  Ha! I marveled over my own performance in the bedroom. And the winner for best leading actress is…Ashlee Anderson. Yeah! Bravo! Great job! I actually heard voices cheering in my ears. All Jay could do once I started riding his dick was hold on and take his pussy-whippin’ like a man. After my baby finished making love to me, why’d he have to go and bring up his family? He wasn’t thinking about his family when he was busting a nut inside me.

  There was no way in the world Jay could resist my tight, juicy pussy. I realized a nice booty and a cute face were worth more than any man could afford. All men, no matter how rich, how broke, how famous, how confident, how insecure, how straight, how gay, how smart, how dumb; there was one thing they shared in common—a weakness for sex. Many men would lie, others would kill, some would die, and several men, like Jay, would serve time behind bars.

  Which price was greater? Murder? Suicide? Depended upon what the man valued most. In Jay’s case, obviously he valued his son and Tracy, maybe. Or perhaps he claimed them more, using them as his way to get rid of me. Jay didn’t love me, Tracy, his son, or himself. That snotty-nose kid yelled, “I want my mommy,” the entire time I had him, not once asking for his daddy. Whatever.

  If I was lucky, Jay would get the same sentence as Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence in the movie Life. Solitary confinement, sodomy, tossing salads, and knowing firsthand what it was like to be somebody’s bitch would give Jay’s ass plenty of time to wish he’d done right by me.

  A cheating man could make the nicest, sweetest, most innocent woman an honorary top-notch forensic scientist who could stage any crime scene, making him the culprit and the victim at the same time. I didn’t solicit Raymond’s assistance for my plot against Jay. I’d done my homework, and of what I found in reference to D.C.’s first degree sexual assault laws, I made sure I had all bases covered.

  Worst-case scenario, whatever happened to the woman who cried rape? Not a goddamn thing. That’s why I kept laughing in Jay’s face…ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…sucker! Rape was the only charge where a woman could lie under oath and never perjure herself. All I had to do was create doubt in the minds of the jury, and it didn’t have to be reasonable. I’d already established a convincing case, and Jay wasn’t even fingerprinted yet. A woman’s balls were always bigger than a man’s. Most women just didn’t know it. Thanks to Darius and Jay, I did.

  I knew when Jay stepped through my hotel door that he was doomed. I recalled thinking, This is going to be easier than I thought. I didn’t need a fishing rod. I reeled Jay in like a guppy on a string. That softie didn’t even put up a fight. He didn’t have to. His dick did all the talking I wanted to hear. Once a man’s dick got hard, a woman could stroke both heads to her advantage. Sure hope Jay didn’t drop the soap that night because he was being booked with every charge I’d read in the law books.

  My fifteen minutes of fame lasted about thirty seconds; long enough for me to run out of my hotel suite behind Jay, screaming at the top of my lungs. With blood pouring from multiple gashes in my once beautiful face, my ripped shirt barely hanging on to my mutilated body, and my most important asset—womanhood—in ruins, who wouldn’t believe me? I made sure my tittie, the one Jay had bitten, was completely exposed. Red-skin girls bruise easily. I smiled at the purple-and-black ring around my nipple. And being hit from the back hard, well, that would cause enough vaginal bruising to convince any doctor.

  I started screaming hysterically, “Heeeeeelp! He raped me! He beat me! He raped me! Look at my face! Oh, Jesus! I’m gonna die!” I cried louder, forcing tears, gasping, while pleading, “Somebody help me!”

  An elderly white man shouted, “Holy mackerel! Mildred, quick! Get yourself back inside and call the police!”

  Everyone started echoing, “Call the police!”

  If Jay were in my position, all of the twenty witnesses trying to help me would’ve run back into their rooms and locked the doors. And instead of calling the police to help Jay, they would’ve tied up the house lines calling the front desk. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Not many citizens would come to the defense of a black man, even if he was the victim. Good for me. Unfortunate for Jay. When a man knows better, he should do better. Breaking a woman’s heart is a serious offense. Jay knew I loved him. He just didn’t care about me no more.

  The hotel security guard raced to my aid while others stared in disbelief. My new rescuer wrapped his jacket around my partially naked body.

  “My God, lady, who did this to you?” the security officer asked as he dialed his phone.

  “His name is Jay Crawford. He’s my ex-boyfriend, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  I swear I didn’t move a muscle the entire time. I think I missed my calling. I should’ve been an actress. Halle Barry didn’t have shit on me. I could hardly wait for Act Two in the courtroom.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jay

  When the bailiff escorted me into the courtroom, all eyes were on me. It had been six months to the day since Ashlee falsely accused me of rape. Today I would finally learn my fate. I wondered what most of the people in the courtroom were thinking. Probably that I was a dead man walking, because that’s how I felt. My fate was in the hands of twelve people, five sistas, three brothers, two white women, and two white men who didn’t know shit about me other than what the judge would allow into evidence, and half of that was bull. This was a so-called jury of my peers. How comforting could that be?

  My attorney pleaded a hell of a case, despite the mountain of false evidence against me, and like he said, it would only take one vote to hang a jury. That all sounded good during the trial, but the jury was coming back with a verdict, which meant there would be no hung jury today. I was going either home or back to my jail cell for good.

  I sat next to my attorney, Michael Brown. He patted me on the back. Michael was the best attorney that my boy Kyle’s money could buy. But in all honesty, I was not sure if he was good enough to defeat Ashlee’s lies.

  “How you doin’, Jay?”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ll be doing a whole lot better when this is all over.”

  “Well, the jury will be out in a minute. They’ve been deliberating for five days. I think that’s a good sign. Hang in there.”

  “I’m trying. Believe me, I’m trying,” I said, turning to look at the faces of my loved ones. I’m not going to lie. I felt like crying. Seems like I’d been doing a lot of that lately, especially late at night in my cell.

  My boys, Wil, Kyle, and Allen, were all there, with their wives, too. They looked like they were at my funeral rather than my trial, but I nodded and gave them a confident smile—one that truly took some acting to pull off. I loved those guys. They’d been there for me when no one else had. Each one of them offered to put up his house for my bail. Unfortunately for me, Ashlee’s politically connected parents put a stop to that by somehow forcing the judge to hold me for the past six months with no bail. Some justice system, huh?

  I remembered the day my boys tried to warn me about Ashlee. I wish I had been smart enough to listen. Wil’s voice kept repeating in my head. And I’m telling you now, you need to listen to your boys. God, if I could just do it all over again…

  Sitting just behind my boys was my ex-wife, Kenya, and our girls. Kenya hadn’t been to any of the trial, so it was a surprise to see her there now. I don’t think she’ll ever know how much I appreciated it. Our girls were our glue, but I couldn’t take away anything from her as a mother, nor could she say negative things about me as a father.

  If only she’d been called as a character wi
tness. She would’ve made the jury understand I’m no rapist, I thought. Not that it mattered. My attorney had at least fifteen of my friends, relatives, and coworkers on the stand as character witnesses. They all made me sound like Mother Teresa up there on the stand. But I didn’t know how they stacked up against all the doctors that testified on behalf of the prosecution, or the DNA evidence inside her, the vaginal bruises from our rough sex, the blood on my shirt, and the hotel’s security tape of me leaving that hotel like a bat out of hell.

  My girls waved at me while Kenya nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. As I returned her kind gesture, my eyes slid one row up to Tracy and Jason.

  Tracy had Jason sitting on her lap. She looked as if she’d been crying. I winked and blew her a kiss. She blew one back, but she didn’t flash a smile. I wished there was something I could do or say to fix the way she was feeling. I could see pain in her eyes, but my girl, Tracy, knew how to hold up despite the fact that she was going through a lot of guilt and self-blame.

  During the first two months I was in jail, Tracy wouldn’t even come see because she thought I was guilty of raping Ashlee. I couldn’t blame her after the way the news reporters and press were portraying me. Not until Kyle, Wil, and Allen sat her down and explained what really went down, including the fact that I slept with Ashlee to save her career, did she finally understand. She had already seen Ashlee’s lies in action with the false HIV test, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe Ashlee could be lying about this. It took another month before Tracy came up to the jail, because she was so embarrassed. Ashlee had taken everything from her, including her shot at winning Pop Star, and I’ll always hate her for it.

  You see, when I got back to my house that night, the cops were waiting for me. They found the envelope in my pocket, and with Tracy being my girl, and about to go on Pop Star, the whole thing became tabloid news. What really pissed me off was that Ashlee’s name was left out of the news because she was supposed to be the victim. Something about the rape shield law. To be truthful, it was bullshit. Tracy had been practically seconds away from fame, and we were minutes away from being happy together for the rest of our lives.