by B. M. Hardin
Every Woman has a Price
B.M. Hardin
Copyright © 2012 Brenda Hardin
All rights reserved.
ISBN:1479305219
ISBN-13:978-1479305216
*Every Woman has a Price*
~*This book is solely a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination. If there are any resemblances or familiarity to actual places, locales, events, or persons, whether living or dead, it is nothing more than coincidental.*~
*Dedication*
~*I find it only valid to dedicate this novel in memory of the woman that taught me this very lesson, my wonderful grandmother Mrs. Brenda Wilson Murrell. You may be gone, but clearly you or your words have not been forgotten. Love you now, forever and always*~
*Acknowledgments*
~*First and foremost, I would like to thank my heavenly father. He equipped me with the skills, the talents and the patience to make my dreams my reality.
I would especially like to thank all of my brothers and sisters this time: Tangela Brown, Angela Houser, Shanta McDowell, Mardregues Knox, Tony Jackson, Cassandra Jackson and Antonio Jackson. I love you guys and thank you for all of your support.
To Mrs. Evanie Clay once again, thanks for the constant push and pulls toward success.
To Decloria Richardson, Bethany Campbell, Lisa Massey, and all my family, friends and readers, to you I say thank you. I hope and pray that you have all you ever hoped for. I’m a witness, dreams do come true!*~
With all of my love,
B.M. Hardin
~*Chapter One*~
I rolled my eyes as I caught sight of the pink disconnection notice hanging by a rubber band on the door knob.
Lord, can a sista' get a break....damn!
Okay, so maybe cursing in the same sentence as the word Lord wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I’m sure he understood my frustration.
It was just always something.
When I first moved to Charlotte, NC, three years ago, from a small town in Chickasaw, Alabama, I thought I was coming to live the American Dream. I had a degree in Business and I was ready to live a better life, buy me a house, find me, or in this day in time, buy me a husband, have a few kids and settle down. You know, live the good life.
But let's just say things didn’t quite work out that way. Let me tell you something, back home, a degree, hell almost just having a high school diploma would get you almost any job in town. But here, that just wasn't the case. Degree and all, the competition in this city for a good job was unbelievable. The only jobs I had managed to get these last few years were fast foods, Wal-Mart and now as a waitress. I mean I was an intelligent, educated woman, but that just didn’t seem to matter at this point and time. If you had the education and no experience you fell short, and if you had the experience and no education, your chances were almost always slim to none.
So the past three years, I had been stuck working dead end jobs just to make ends meet, and I was barely doing that. And as of today, making ends meet was now going to be an even harder task, since I had gotten fired. And it wasn’t even my fault. Tell me something, if a man just out of the blue, smack you on the booty what would you do? I tell you what I did...I smacked his ass back. I can’t stand disrespect and that was beyond disrespectful.
Of course, I was fired so here I was jobless again.
I tried not to get upset just thinking about it, but the fact of walking into an apartment with no lights sure as hell wasn’t helping my mood.
Once inside, I scurried to do what I could before the sun went down. It was only March, but it was already starting to get a little hotter than it was supposed to be. Being that I couldn’t even plug up a fan, I stripped butterball naked, found a pen and paper and started to make a list of things to do. Getting electricity was at the top of my list so I made plans to get up extra early to catch the bus downtown to a few of the many Outreach agencies, to try and get some assistance with my light bill. It was so embarrassing to me to be a grown woman, begging for help, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t survive but for so long without lights or water. Even though I didn’t quite expect to receive much help from the government assistance programs, it was worth a try. They didn’t seem to help you unless you had kids which, I did not. I was twenty eight years old and still childless...by choice. Trust me; the abortion clinics were all too familiar with my face. But I refused to have a baby unless I was stable...financially.
I had gotten my first abortion, well, homemade abortion, at just the age of fourteen. And it was the best decision I ever made. I refused to be a statistic. Call me what you want, but I watched my mama struggle to raise seven kids on her own and I vowed that I would never put my child through what I had to endure.
Coming up there was never enough. I mean don't get me wrong, my upbringing definitely made me grateful and it taught me how to be a survivor. More times than not, we didn’t have enough to eat and would take turns walking to the grocery store to steal food. Can goods, fruits, whatever we could. Some of the older siblings were even able to get meats. At, nights, when mama would come home, we would have her hot plate ready and never did she ask how or where we had gotten it. My thoughts were that she was just thankful that she would at least get a meal that day, since most days she went without so we could have at least something in our stomachs. Thoughts of how we would prepare for the power to be turned off troubled my mind. She would fill up totes, jugs, and buckets full of water, enough to last a week or two to bathe, drink and whatever else we needed it for.
She would also get plenty of batteries for the flashlights and the 'tap' lights, of course so we would have some type of light. The trash bags that she would buy would be for when we had to do the 'number two'. Being that the toilets wouldn't flush from the lack of water and electricity; we would place the trash bags inside the toilet, use the bathroom in them, and then take the bag full of our waste to the dumpster. Thinking about it now, it was nasty as hell, but it was life.
Our life.
Nevertheless, we made it the best way we could. Life was hard but we learned the value of family. How to be thankful for each and everything and each and every blessing that came our way.
But when talking about having kids, I was they only one out of the five girls without any. Yes, I wanted them so, so bad; more than anything in the world but just not under these circumstances.
Anyway, back then, I had gotten pregnant on my very first time by a guy the neighborhood called J-Easy, but I called him Johnnie.
He wasn't too much older than I was. He was around twenty or twenty-one but he was already like so many others at that time, living the big boy life. He was living the fast life. Johnnie sold a little of this, a little of that; a little of everything. Hell he would even sell you if you would let him. The fact of the matter was that he was prison bound, whether he wanted to be or not. Though he was a rough neck, he had still managed to sweep me off my feet. You see, I had gotten to know him, the real him, and not just his tough guy image. He was so romantic, and a poet. He wrote the most beautiful poetry I had ever heard. And he could sing too.
That boy could sing you right out of your panties. For real. We dated almost a year before I finally gave myself to him. I had allowed him to brag to his friends as if he was already tearing this ass up but he and I both knew that he had never gotten anything more than my kisses.
The night of our first time was the day I realized my true love for him and his for me. He was so gentle, and he took his time with me. He had always been so patient. He even took the time to give me step by step tutorial on how to please him with my mouth. And trust me, to this day; I believed that’s why I was so damn good
at it. The saying goes, Suck a dick, make a friend, well, let’s just say if I got on my knees, I came up with more than a friend. I tell you that much. A sista’ would have them wanting to marry her, I ain’t lying.
But that night, not only did we make love, we made a baby. A few weeks later when I told him the news, he was so excited. I couldn’t really understand why. I was going crazy, crying every chance I got while he walked around with a big ass Cheshire cat smile on his face. He said that he was going to get himself together, get a job, marry me and take care of his family. It all sounded good but we all know things never seem to go the way you want them to. That same exact night that we had gotten our good and bad news, he was busted and ended up getting fifteen years in prison. I saw it as a sign. So being that I wasn't a fan of having a child in poverty, I did what I had to do.
I had my great grandmother to make me ‘the drink’. Everyone in my family knew what 'the drink' was. With it being at their disposal, I found it strange that my mama's generation didn’t seem to use it much, if at all because they all had five plus kids. Anyway 'the drink' was some family secret, old school remedy that she mixed up to kill a baby in just twenty fours and to date I had taken it four times, and it hadn’t failed me yet. Though with everything came side effects and after the last time of getting put in the hospital behind it, I decided terminating a pregnancy professionally was the safer way to do it. Still, either way, I was baby free.
But with my luck lately, not having kids didn’t seem to make my situation any better. I found myself asking God why. Why was I always in a struggle? I was such a good person; better than most. I was humble and not in the least bit was I greedy. I shared anything and everything, with any and everybody. I just wanted to have enough, stability. I was always grateful just for stability.
But here lately, it seemed like I couldn’t even get that much. Lady luck just didn’t seem to be on my side; financially, or relationship wise.
My last relationship had been months ago, maybe almost a year. At the time I was working as a cashier at Wal-Mart, and he happened to come through my check out line.
I'll never forget him, for varies reasons. His name was Deondre Phelps. He was one of the finest men on God's green earth; tall and handsome. I usually didn’t go for the light skinned brothers but for some reason I couldn’t help myself. But trust me...I would never make that mistake again.
Deondre had the whitest, brightest smile I had ever seen and the most built body that God himself had ever created. He had broad shoulders, big arms and a six pack. Boy, it's something about a man with a six pack. A fine ass man with a six pack could make you forget your own damn name; which was exactly what I done.
“How you doing today beautiful?”
I heard him talking but I couldn’t do anything but smile. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Yes, a bitch was speechless.
“I’m Deondre and you are?”
I still couldn’t say anything. It was so embarrassing but more so than trying to remember my name, I was trying to focus on the tingling sensation in between my legs. I didn’t want to walk around looking like I peed on myself and with the flood going on between my thighs, things seemed to be heading in that direction. I hated getting turned on in public.
“Oh, I see it on your name tag, Kasey.”
All I could do was nod. I remained quiet the whole time as I scanned his items and even as I bag them, and gave him his change.
He proceeded to walk off but I was so glad when he looked back and asked me what I was doing for lunch.
Well, that was the beginning.
Deondre and I ended up being a couple. He was actually the first real relationship I had had since I had moved out here to North Carolina. We hit it off rather quickly and at first things couldn’t have been better. He was smart and charming. And each and every day I grew more and more in love with him. For a while, I actually thought he was the one and I was almost positive that he felt the same.
It was his birthday and I had planned something special.
He was a police officer but tonight I was going to be the one doing the arresting. After having the key to his house for a few weeks ad never using it, I finally decided to put it to some good use for the first time. I prepared his favorite dinner, steak and baked potatoes.
Soft music was playing in the background, candle light, and I had pulled out his favorite wine. I was all dressed up in my naughty cop uniform because as soon as he was done eating, I wanted him to have his desert. When he walked in and seen everything that I had planned out just for him, he smiled and instantly reached out to embraced me. His reaction would have made you think that no one had ever really taken the time to do something special for him. Sad.
“Thank you baby, I love you. You're the best.”
“I love you too. Now eat so I can get you naked.” I smirked but placed my hands on my hips to let him know I meant business. He did as he was told and I swear it had taken him no more than five minutes to gobble down a whole plate of food.
“Okay, I'm ready for my desert.” he said walking toward me, coming out of his clothes along the way.
“Shut up and put your hands where I can see them” I demanded, forcing myself to stay in character and not to laugh.
He halted and allowed his boxers to fall to his ankles, giving me more than enough view of his thick and rapidly swelling manhood. Slowly, seductively, he placed his hands in the air and then behind his head.
I walked toward him, twirling the handcuffs in my hand as I began to recite him his naughty rights.
“You have the right to make as much noise as you want to, as long as it’s from the pleasures of my mouth or my other woman down south.” I winked to make sure he knew I was talking about my pus box. He understood.
“You have the right to pull some hair, smack some ass and even cum a time or two, everywhere, anywhere your heart desires. Nothing is off limits. You have the right to use me and any part me any way you want and that includes my mouth, my kitty, and my personal favorite, my booty.” I laughed and bent over, taunting him because I knew he didn’t have any free hands to smack it.
“You have the right to pull hair, ---”
“Do I have the right to tell you to stop talking and come put something in your mouth?”
I didn’t even have to answer the question; instinctively I was on my knees and doing my duty.
Deondre moaned loudly, as always, getting his penis licked and sucked seemed to be his favorite. And I'm sure the way I did it made it all the more enjoyable. Nothing was off limits. I licked and sucked everything in sight, balls and all. Even that little area behind the sack but before the butt crack, you know that little in between place. I discovered throughout all my years of dick sucking that if you tease it just a little with your tongue and then massage it slightly with your knuckle, men tend to go crazy.
They absolutely, positively, loved it. In the wonderful world of oral sex, it was right there next to deep throating. And we all knew that that was at the top of the list.
It didn’t take long before I tasted the pleasures of his aftermath. I held my tongue still as I allowed his juice to race to the back of my throat. I swallowed slowly and introduced his fluids to their new home in the pit of my stomach.
“Take these handcuffs off of me.” he demanded out of breath.
I did as I was told, knowing that things were about to get, hot and dirty just like I liked them.
He laid me on my back and moved my black, lace thong to the side. Rubbing my clit, the more aggressive he became the more I became aroused. As my pleasurable whining became louder, he ripped the thong clean off. I went to my secret place as he pleased me with his tongue.
Never in all my life had a mouth been as golden and chosen to eat kitty cat as his. He was the best; I was willing to bet on that. Though I was overly enjoying his tongue, I wanted my explosion to come from none other than his rock hard penis.
“Put it in” I begged.
“I
was just waiting for you to ask” he smiled and with that said and with one quick motion, he entered me and for the next half hour, my insides became his very own personal playground. We were always on one accord sexually because at the exact same time, the very same minute, both of our moans grew louder. I cursed, he cursed, we both cursed and the rest is unwritten. He collapsed beside of me out of breath and proclaimed this to be his best birthday ever. I smiled. It better had been.
After a while it was time to make my exit. I made it my business not to stay over every single night. I didn’t want to invade his space more than I knew I already was.
Of course he begged me to spend the night and when I declined he handed me his car keys so I didn’t have to catch the bus, snuggled deep under his covers and bid me good night. Once home and showered I realized that I had left my cell phone. I didn’t need it...but I did need it. You know, it was a just in case thing for me. I never knew what was bound to happen so I at least tried to be near it all times. And besides, now that I was home, I was feeling a little lonely so that was my perfect excuse to go back and cuddle.
Pulling back up at his house, it was a little after ten o’clock but a black car was in his drive way that I didn’t recognize. I was surprised since when I left he appeared to be going to bed but I didn’t think too much of it being that he was just not the type to have to worry about. He was truly a sweetheart and I had never had any reason to believe that there was another woman in the picture. Well... at least I had been right about that part.
He hadn’t heard me open the door, nor was he anywhere in sight but I could hear him and somebody else arguing.
A guy.
They both seemed to be yelling at the top of their lungs. I couldn’t quite make out what the argument was about but I sure as hell was going to find out. I inched closer to see if I could get a better listen at their conversation.