by Robinson, Cheryl; Smith, Meta; King, Joy; Parks, Electa Rome
Glen hadn’t moved from the kitchen table. The plate of Cuban cuisine Sasha had prepared was still sitting in front of him, untouched. The sun had gone down hours ago, but he couldn’t tear himself away from his chair. Sasha’s pregnancy bombshell was tearing him up. It threw a monkey wrench into his plans with Bianca. They were in the beginning of their love affair, and he wasn’t sure if they could endure the unexpected arrival of a baby he was having with another woman. In his heart, he knew that he wanted to give their love a try, but he wasn’t confident that Bianca would come to the same conclusion. Of course, the only way to know for sure was to give her the choice, so he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Sasha had been sitting in the living room patiently waiting for feedback from Glen after she gave given him her news. He’d been speechless.
“I’m going to see Bianca.”
“Do you plan on telling her about the baby?”
“Of course, she has the right to decide whether she wants to continue things knowing that you’re pregnant with my child.”
“What if she doesn’t, then what?”
“I don’t know, Sasha. I don’t even want to think about that. I’m hoping she’ll decide we can get past this.”
“So what, you all can continue on your love affair and then you just throw me out in the streets and forget about your child?”
“Of course not. I’m going to be a father to my child. You don’t ever have to second-guess that.”
“What about me?”
“Sasha, I’ll make sure you’re provided for throughout your pregnancy and after. Honestly, I don’t want you stressing right now. You need to take care of yourself for the baby’s sake.”
“I appreciate that. Good luck with Bianca.”
Sasha sat in the dark preparing her next move as if playing a game of chess. Ideally, as far as she was concerned, Bianca would bow out, not wanting to be bothered with a baby mama, especially one as treacherous as her. But landing a man like Glen was incredibly tempting, and Bianca might decide the battle was worthwhile. If Bianca decided to ride it out, Sasha knew she would have to find another way to lure Glen back. For now, Sasha could tell that the calm, cool, collective approach was pushing the right buttons with him. As badly as he wanted to be mad and flip out on her because she wasn’t pulling the normal card, “If you’re not with me I’ll make your life a living hell attitude,” her calm approach had caused Glen to be cordial, which was exactly what she wanted. That meant all she would have to do was catch him at the right time, when he was vulnerable, and she’d be back in his bed.
As Glen drove to Bianca’s apartment, he struggled with how he would break the news to her about Sasha. This was no way to start a new relationship, but he hoped it would make their bond stronger instead of ripping them apart. He got out of his car and slowly walked to Bianca’s front door. He never thought he would come to a place in his life when he would fear losing a woman, and realized now that’s what happened when you fell in love. He rang the doorbell, and within seconds Bianca answered.
“Hi, baby,” she said. “I’ve been missing you since the moment I left you.”
Glen wrapped his arms tightly around Bianca, never wanting to let go. “I missed you too. I’ve been waiting to hold you again all day. You feel so good,” he said, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he would hold her in his arms like this.
“Would you like me to get you anything?”
“No, you’re all I need.” Glen’s words sounded sweet, but his body language was saying something else.
“What’s wrong? You seem a little edgy. I guess things didn’t go so well with Sasha?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“What’s so complicated? I’m sure Sasha got extra dramatic and probably threatened to ruin your life and mine, but that was her anger talking. She’ll cool down.”
“Actually, she was extremely calm.”
Bianca did a double take. “Calm. That isn’t a word I thought I’d ever hear used to describe Sasha.”
“Me neither. But she was. And she shared some interesting news with me.”
“What news?”
Glen was building up the courage to spill his guts as he paced back and forth.
“Glen, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not trying to. The news is still fresh in my mind, and finding the right words is difficult.”
“Stop trying to figure out the right words and just say it.” Bianca was becoming frustrated, trying to read Glen’s mind. She wanted to know what had him walking on eggshells.
“Sasha is pregnant with my child.”
Bianca’s heart dropped. When she finally found true love, once again the beautiful sorority sister was coming along and taking away her happiness. She stood up and held her stomach as the pain of rejection captured her. “And of course she’s going to have it, and what you’ve decided is to leave me and go back to her?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean yes, she’s going to have the baby, but no, I’m not going to leave you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Bianca.”
Bianca wanted to believe Glen, but a baby put a whole new spin on things. “But she’s carrying your child. I can’t compete with that.”
“I’m not asking you to. I want you to be a part of my life and my child’s. This baby doesn’t change the love I have for you. I just hope it doesn’t change how you feel about me.”
“Nothing can change how I feel about you, and of course I would love your child. But what about Sasha? She’ll use that baby to try to get you back every chance she gets. Every time you go visit your child, I know Sasha will be plotting and scheming to make her move on you.” Glen reached out and held Bianca’s face in the palm of his hands. “Do you love me?” he asked, staring into her eyes.
“Of course I love you. Why would you even ask something like that?”
“Because I need to know that for better or worse you’ll stand by my side no matter what.”
“Always.”
“Then not Sasha or anyone one else will be able to come between us. No matter how many tricks she may try to pull out her bag, our unity will keep our love intact. You have to truly believe that. You can’t allow your insecurities to destroy what we have. The only people that can ruin what we have are us.”
“You make it sound so simple. But love is far from simple, Glen. My heart was broken once before, and I never thought I would be able to trust another man with my love until you. If you hurt me, it would be too devastating.” Tears began falling down Bianca’s face, and Glen kissed each of them away. He wanted her to be secure with the feelings they shared. It was imperative for her to believe his love would never waver.
“Baby, your heart is safe in my hands. I will protect it because now it belongs to me. The only tears I want you to cry are those of happiness, not pain. Now let me make love to you so we can create and bring our own child into this world.”
“You’re ready for us to have a baby together?”
“Nothing would make me happier, except for you being my wife, but we can discuss that at a later time. But, Bianca it’s okay to surrender your love to me,” Glen said, flashing his signature smile.
Looking into his eyes, Bianca finally believed that Glen wasn’t like the football player who had stolen her heart and then broke it. She was no longer the young girl who didn’t understand the difference between love and infatuation. Glen was all man, and she was now a mature woman who could follow her heart. Yes, with love you’d always be taking a chance that the other person might hurt or disappoint you. But what was the sense in living if you weren’t willing to take the biggest gamble of all, experiencing love b-ball style?
JOY KING was born in Toledo, Ohio, and raised in California, Maryland, and North Carolina. She represents a new genre of young, hip, sexy novels that take readers behind the velvet rope of the glamorous but often shady relationships in the entertainm
ent industry.
Joy attended North Carolina Central University and Pace University, where she majored in journalism. Emerging onto the entertainment scene in the late nineties, Joy accepted an internship position, and immediately began to work her way up the ranks, at the Terrie Williams Agency. She worked hands-on with Johnnie Cochran, the Essence Awards, The NBA Players’ Association, Moët & Chandon, and other entertainment executives and celebrities.
In 1999, Joy attended the Lee Strasburg Theater Institute before accepting a job as Director of Hip Hop Relations at Click Radio, where she developed segments featuring the biggest names in hip hop. Joy pushed her department to new levels by creating an outlet that placed hip hop in the forefront of the cyber world.
Joy made her debut in the literary world with Dirty Little Secrets, a novel that is loosely based on her life. The sequel, Hooker to Housewife, will be in released in April 2007.
A prolific writer, Ms. King also writes street novels under the pseudonym Deja King. With the debut of Bitch, Ms. King garnered a loyal urban following who are eagerly anticipating the sequel, Bitch Reloaded, which will be released in 2007.
These Are My Confessions
Electa Rome Parks
This is dedicated to all the keepers of secrets…know that the truth heals.
The Beginning…
“Oooh yeah, baby! That’s right! Don’t stop doing what you’re doing!” Drake was in heaven.
“Okay, babe. Anything you say. You sure you can handle this?” I teased in between licks.
Starting in small circles, I twirled my tongue up and down his shaft, and with each flick reached farther and farther down. When I placed all of him inside my warm mouth, I thought Drake was going to collapse in a heap in the middle of the floor.
“Damn, Kennedy. You do that shit too good,” he exclaimed as his eyes rolled back in his head like he was going into convulsions.
“Who do you love?” I asked, momentarily pausing to look up at Drake. I needed to hear him say it, again.
“Don’t stop now! Put it back in. I was almost there. Put it in,” Drake moaned, trying to place his stiff, massive organ back in the comfort, wetness, and warmth of my eager, accommodating mouth.
“Not until you answer my question,” I stated, shyly looking up at him from beside the sofa in my living room.
“Damn, Kennedy, you can’t tease a man like this,” he exclaimed, pushing my long hair back out of my flushed face. Unsuccessfully, he tried to force my head back down with his other hand.
“Who do you love?”
I took the opportunity to suck down on his tip, just like he had taught me. Not too hard, but with enough pressure to cause him to involuntarily shudder and close his eyes. Drake had patiently and expertly instructed me on everything he liked for me to do to him in bed. The things I didn’t care for, I did them anyway. Just to please him. Cosmopolitan magazine articles revealed what you wouldn’t do for your man, another woman would. Women should learn to be accommodating in the bedroom. I went above and beyond for Drake.
Tonight was costume night. Sometimes Drake and I played games where I’d dress up in costumes and live out his fantasies. It kept the sex exciting and interesting, is what Drake said. I had no complaints. Tonight, I had on a red and blue cheerleading uniform minus my panties and bra. I even sported long socks and tennis shoes to complete the look. As I squatted on the floor with my open, bent legs, Drake manually stimulated me and squeezed my breasts through the thin fabric while I pleased him. My wetness was all over his fingers. I think I was addicted to his dick; it was beautiful, just like him, and I could suck him for hours.
“Kennedy, baby. You know I love you. From the first day I saw you, I’ve loved you,” he exclaimed, rubbing some more on my spot. I felt my knees getting weak.
I let out a slow, sensual moan, closed my eyes and bit down on my bottom lip. “Yeah, right there.” I opened my legs even wider, granting Drake full access.
He reached to push my head back down, and I searched his face for the truth. I knew Drake sometimes told me what he thought I wanted to hear. His confessions, sometimes, didn’t hold an ounce of truth.
“Come on, baby. Work my dick. Do it like I taught you. Suck that lollipop.”
“Hmm, you taste sweet,” I cooed, licking my lips.
“It was love at first sight when you walked through my door. I knew you were the one.”
Drake had told me all I needed to hear. His words were music to my soul. I went to work, harder and faster than before. How many licks does it take to get to the center of the tootsie roll pop? Slurping, wet sounds echoed throughout the stillness of the moment. We never made love with any background music or noise. Drake was turned on by the sensual, raw sounds and smells of our lovemaking.
“Ohhh yeah! That’s it! That’s my girl! Damn!” he screamed out in ecstasy as I moved just in time before he spewed all over me. With his eyes still closed and a big smile on his gorgeous face, Drake collapsed against my sofa, pulled me to him, and caressed my hair and face over and over. He loved to run his hands through my long, wavy locks. Drake despised when I wore my hair pulled up in a ponytail, and he expected me to take it down when I was with him. I obliged. Always accommodating.
“You’re getting better. Go get a warm washcloth for your man,” he said, pulling up my skirt and smacking me on the ass two times, leaving a light red mark.
I stared at him from my spot on the floor. Getting better? I thought he’d enjoyed that. I knew he did. I was on point with all he had taught me. I made a mental note to do better the next time. I had finally gotten my gag reflex under control. Maybe, next time I’d surprise him by swallowing.
“Go on, baby. Hurry up,” he demanded, bending down and taking one of my throbbing nipples in his mouth like he possessed it and absently playing between my quivering legs. “I’m ready to eat some honey because your pussy always tastes sweet.”
I quickly jumped up to retrieve a towel because I knew what was in store for me. My kitty twitched. Twitched again. Drake was off the chain when it came to sexing me. He had turned me out; inside and out.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
In my daze, I glanced around and surveyed my surroundings. In my bed, safe and sound in my tiny apartment. The ringing telephone woke me from my flashback of events that had transpired several months earlier, during happier times. The tingling between my legs was present day and very real. My coochie was having some serious dick withdrawals and feeling like an addict for a piece of Drake. However, that would happen only over my dead body.
Present Day…
Drake.
Drake, I never want to set my eyes on him for the rest of my life. If I never, ever see him, that would be too soon. I don’t know what led me to believe that I’d make a difference in his life and he’d fall hopelessly and helplessly in love with me. What made me think that I’d possess him someday? Drake could never be possessed by a mere woman. I think he secretly hates the female population and only tolerates and uses us for his enjoyment and pleasure.
Snuggling deeper under my comforter and adjusting my pillows, I glanced at the digital clock that sat on my nightstand. It read 7:35 A.M. I had tossed and turned for most of the night with fretful dreams when I did dose off for a few restless minutes. There was definitely no sleeping now; I was wide-awake and antsy. For a second I had forgotten it was a Saturday morning, no work. I reached down beside my bed, retrieved, and once again examined my brand-new leather journal and thought, Why not? It had tons of blank, lined pages to write on. Maybe if I wrote some of my jumbled thoughts down, I could make some sense of the turn my life had taken. But where to begin?
I remember a college professor telling his creative writing class that every story has a beginning, middle, and ending. Simple enough. I’ll start at the beginning. Maybe in the process I’d answer the million-dollar question: What makes a woman want to end her life over a man? These are my confessions:
Dear Journal,
I guess I should start
by telling you something about myself.
Let’s see. There’s really not much to tell, that’s interesting anyway. I’m pretty average in most ways and live a relatively tame lifestyle. That is until recently. I’m twenty-eight years old. Work as a customer service representative for a telecommunications company in Midtown. By the way, it’s a job I don’t particularly care for, but I do my best nevertheless. It could be a cool job, but there is always so much drama going on with the women there. Trivia stuff at that. Why can’t women just get along?
Oh, I’m adopted. Mother and Daddy adopted me when I was two months old. I was born to a teenage, crack-addicted biological mother who gave me up at birth. Signed over her maternal rights. Just like that. With the snap of two fingers. In the blink of an eye. She signed over her maternal rights, and I became a ward of the state of Georgia. She wasn’t even sure who my biological father was. That line on my birth certificate was left blank.
I don’t get it. And believe me, I’ve tried. How can a mother, any mother, give birth to a child that she has carried for nine months, felt her moving around inside her, bonded with, and then, then…just give her up like she’s dumping the trash? Me, I could never do that in a million years. It’s actually ironic, my life didn’t mean anything to my biological mother and I guess it didn’t mean anything to me either since I tried to take it over a month ago. Thirty days ago.
Luckily for me, Mother and Daddy came into my life when I was two months old. Mother said she took one look at me lying all alone in the hospital crib, underweight because I was born premature, and knew she had to have me to love, shield, and nurture. Mother said she’d never forget how small, fragile, and vulnerable I appeared. Like I was calling out for her to love and protect me. And she did and hasn’t stopped loving me in all my twenty-eight years.