Lipstick Diaries

by Anthony Whyte

  “Couple million dollars,” I answered.

  Gamby’s eyes popped wide open as he repeated like an echo, “Millions? I see why you on death row.”

  “Anyway,” I said brushing his comment aside. “Do you want me to continue or not?”

  “Yeah go ahead.” He said eyeing me and leaning back.

  My anger peaked. Not only did he make war between me and my husband, but my husband was now getting ready to file for divorce. The following day I went to the gun shop and purchased a .22 caliber shotgun. I couldn’t bear losing my best friend, my husband. I decided that I was going to take the four million dollars since Nick had already placed his signature on the card. I was going to New York to kill Mr. Riggs and his wife, and then try to plead with Nick. If he wouldn’t listen to what I had to say, I would kill him and shoot myself. Then make it look like a break in. I had it all planned.

  I met with this hit man to do the job. I was too chicken-shit to do the job myself. He wanted fifty thousand for both murders. I paid him half the money and the other half was to be paid when the job was complete. The following day I got a call from the hit-man asking if we could meet for lunch. When I got there he had information for me. The good news was that Riggs and his family had been murdered. The bad news was he hadn’t pulled the trigger. He found them dead upon breaking into the home.

  I left and immediately boarded a flight back to Philly to meet up with my husband to see if things could be worked out. When I opened the door, I found my husband slumped over the sofa, hands bound behind his back. He had been shot in the head, execution style.

  “Okay now this is becoming weirder by the moment.” Gamby said pulling his chair closer to the cell. “How did you end up in prison?”

  The news flash ripped through Philadelphia and NYC like a heat wave. When I got off the Amtrak train, I was greeted by my cousin, and two plainclothes detectives.

  “I’m sorry the reward was too great.” My cousin said.

  They found my prints on the door, the gun that I purchased had prints on it. It was the gun that was used to kill my Nick.

  “If you didn’t kill them, then who do you think...?” Gamby leaned forward in the chair and asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said gripping the bars.

  “I never believed inmates when they tell me their story, but for some reason I believe you.”

  I was given my last meal and was pondering all the things I could have done right. It was too late for that. After I finished this meal I’ll be walking to the death chamber.

  “Do you want to see a priest or a reverend?”

  I shook my head.

  “We got one standing by, just in case.” I was told then strapped to a gurney.

  There were a bevy of people around me including doctors and officers. I saw the closed curtain. Then it slowly opened and I saw faces. None I knew and didn’t care to know.

  “Any last words, Miss?”

  “I’m innocent.”

  My arm was set in place and the IV needle attached then inserted into my arm. The phone sounded loudly as it rang. It was the governor. I had been granted a stay.

  Epilogue

  Warm sun rays caressed my back. I stood on the balcony of my San Diego home. The smell of coffee lingered. I tied the string of my white robe, and read the newspaper. I was due to go shopping in another hour. I was waiting for my girlfriend, Tiffany to stop by.

  The governor stayed my execution and I was able to win my freedom because the blood at the crime scene didn’t match my own. When they checked the hotel records at the time of the murder, they saw that I was in my room. I wasn’t a murderer.

  “Oh well all that ends well, is definitely well for me.”

  You see the trick to this was, I hired a hit-man to kill the Riggs but knew later on he would snitch. So I hired professionals. I used one and half million to hire a detective from the force of thirty years to carry out the killing. The other million was paid to a forensic scientist who helped to contaminate the crime scene. I allowed the hit-man to go there and see the bodies because that way he wouldn’t have a guilty conscience. He didn’t commit the murders, he got paid for the job as if he did it, and he was living comfortable.

  Nick? He had to die because he had too many connections in high places. He would’ve hunted his father’s killers. I couldn’t stand losing the millions in the account and this life insurance. As for my time in jail, some things have to be staged in order to make it look real.

  “Such a nice day outside,” Tiffany said kissing me hard.

  “Heard from your father lately?” I smiled returning her kiss.

  “You mean the governor?”

  We hugged, laughed and walked into the sunlight.

  biographies

  Genieva Borne is a single mother of two who once lived in Baltimore, Maryland. Ms. Borne resides in New York City where she attends college. She credits Alice Walker’s The Color Purple as the book that had the most influence on her. “Writing is liberation from the hardship that comes with life. I hope other people are able to relate to what the characters are going through in my stories.”

  Sharron Doyle is a hardworking writer from New York City. She wrote four titles while incarcerated. Her debut titled, If It Ain’t One Thing It’s Another, hit stores fall 06. Sharron stays busy in Harlem searching to write the perfect novel. Trini is her nickname. Ms. Doyle is proud of her Trinidad and Tobago roots. She lists her mother as a strong influence in her life. “I feel like I can take it to any level I want to, when I’m on top of my writing game.”

  Kineisha Gayle was born in Kingston, Jamaica. She earned a BA in Forensic Psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. “I developed a passion for writing at nine years old. I started out writing poetries and short stories.” In 02 she completed King of Spades, her first manuscript. The novel sold very well. “Writing is a major part of my life.” Deadly Freaks & Queen of Hearts are her upcoming titles.

  Joy Leftow grew up in Washington Heights. Since the early nineties, Joy has been hitting the NYC poetry scene with her unique prose style. A Spot Of Bleach & Other Poems and Prose (05, Big Foot Press) is her current release. Joy holds a BA and MSW from Columbia University. Some folks accuse me of being post modernist…others say my prose depicts the harder and sharper sides. My ability is mitzvah. It’s my love…the finished product, the offspring.

  Princess Madison was bitten by the writing bug after she read Ghetto Falsehoods, a novel by Anthony Whyte. “Truthfully, I thought I could write and had dabbled. After reading the novel, I analyzed the characters and the story. It really stirred and influenced me.” Princess Madison’s debut title Gangster Bitch, is due fall 08.

  Vanessa Martir grew up in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Her journals became her escape while coping with the shock of leaving New York at the age of thirteen. Vanessa studied and lived at Wellesley, MA. A graduate of Columbia University in NY, Vanessa completed her first novel after the birth of her daughter. The hot debut, Woman’s Cry ~Llanto de la Mujer, is due fall 06. “I want to do spoken word again. Anais Nin said, ‘To write is to taste life twice.’”

  Justice Mejia was born in New York City. She currently resides in Brooklyn. She wrote her first poem Rainbow at age eight. “I think the way words are used is art. They can make you feel, cry, laugh, or even open your mind to another world.” Justice is inspired by Emily Dickinson, Zane, Robert Frost and most importantly life. “I think life is already written; we can at times adjust the words but the outcome remains the same.”

  Tri Smith’s signature is the unexpected twist. She is the author of adult best-sizzlers: They Call Me Miss Divine and The Bristol Ho-tel I & II. Ms. Smith is a professional magazine and book editor, and feature writer. Published poet (Blind Beggar Press) and spoken word performer (Aretha Franklin Award 2005). She is working on the completion of her fourth novel, an intriguing murder mystery. Read free chapters of her erotic fiction and order copies at www.trismithbooks.com.

  April D. Stokes was born i
n Pittsburgh, PA where she began writing poetry and short stories at the age of 7. She attended Cornell University where she received her Bachelors degree and has continued to pursue her love of writing. She currently lives in Atlanta, GA and enjoys swimming, traveling and art. She is currently working on her first novel which is a continuation of the story: Immersion.

  Leah Whitney writes and edits from Queens, NY. “My need to fix the document spurred me into the field of editing.” A graduate of Pace University, Leah is influenced by Zora Neale Hurston, James Baldwin and Toni Morrison. Leah is the editor of novels such as Road Dawgz by K’wan, Blinded by Kashamba Williams, A Hood Legend and its sequel, Menage’s Way, both by Victor L. Martin, Booty Call *69, by Erick S. Gray and If It Ain’t One Thing It’s Another, by Sharron Doyle.

  Crystal Lacey Winslow is a Brooklyn-born author who began writing creatively at an early age. Her unique storytelling technique is evident in her deeply personal spoken word/poetry book Melodrama, and her character-driven and remarkably visual novel Life, Love & Loneliness. Crystal earned her baccalaureate degree in Legal Assistant Studies. She started Melodrama Publishing in 2001. The Criss Cross, Wifey, Still Wifey and Menace To Society, are some recent titles.

  Special thanks to the Augustus Manuscript Team aka the Dream Team: JayClay, Tamiko Maldonado, Sofia Urena. Thanks L. Hyatt for the title suggestion.

  Go hard or go home...

  5

  “I’m not feelin’ your man, bella,” Anais said as she affectionately pushed my hair behind my ear. Her other hand was around my waist. “This is about me and you beautiful.” She kissed my neck.

  “But…” I hesitated and pulled away. I looked back to see if Fabian had parked the car. “He’s my man. He’s gonna wanna get down. I thought you understood that.”

  “I don’t want to cause any friction between you and your man, boo, but I have to be real. I’m just not diggin’ him like that. His whole vibe bothers me. It’s hateful and vicious. I came because I want you. I need to feel you.” She drew me close. “I want to please you in a way you can’t imagine. He can watch if he wants but that’s it.” She wrapped her tongue around mine and made me forget about Fabian. Neither of us saw him approach.

  “Can I have some of that?” Fabian grabbed both our asses roughly. Anais cringed and tried to hide her repugnance but the quickness of her withdrawal gave it away. Fabian looked at her perplexed but before he could say anything, I planted a wet kiss on his open mouth.

  “Wanna play, pa?” I asked, caressing his crotch.

  We went upstairs together with me walking deliberately in between Fabian and Anais. When we entered the apartment, I lit candles, put Sade’s Greatest Hits on the surround sound, and served us all tall glasses of Grey Goose and cranberry. I excused myself and went into the bathroom where I prepared a bath of jasmine essence and rose petals in the Jacuzzi.

  I could feel the tension in the living room when I reentered. I heard Anais’s pleasant raspy voice singing along to Sade’s Smooth Operator and looked over to see Fabian rolling a huge L of ‘dro. Anais and Fabian sat on opposite sides of the butter leather coach, not looking at or speaking to one another. We puffed the blunt while Sade’s silky voice sang in the background.

  When we finished puffing, I led them both to the bathroom. I pecked Anais and sat her down on the edge of the hot tub. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” I said with a flirtatious smile. Before I could turn around, I heard Fabian swiftly unzip his pants, rip off his shirt, popping buttons in his haste, and splash into the hot tub.

  Damn, talk about thirsty! ¡Que lambón! I thought unamused, arching my eyebrows at his annoying over-eagerness. I looked over at Anais. Her expression revealed that she was thinking the exact same thing.

  Fabian looked at us both with a huge grin, shrugged and asked, “Y′all joining me or what?”

  “Now you gotta wait for us,” I responded.

  Anais and I slowly began to undress one another in between kisses to the lips, neck and breasts. Fabian bit his bottom lip as he watched. We stepped into the tub. To Fabian’s surprise, I placed myself in between him and Anais. I remembered what Anais had said to me and could tell from her body language that Anais was serious about not getting down with Fabian. I hurriedly kissed Fabian and jerked him off trying to distract him while with my other hand, I discreetly stimulated Anais’s clitoris. Anais grabbed the loofah, poured some Victoria’s Secret Forbidden Fantasy body wash on it and began to gently scrub my shoulders and back.

  Fabian stood up and rammed his rock hard penis into my mouth. I gagged and tried to pull back but he grabbed me by the nape of my neck and wouldn’t let go. My eyes watered but I let him manhandle me. I knew that if I tried to stop him, he’d go into a rampage and would kick Anais out or worse, get violent with us both. I sucked him off until he came, which wasn’t long because despite his constant bragging, the truth was he was a three minute man.

  Fabian clenched my hair, forcing me to keep his eight inches deep in my throat until the last drop of cum spewed from his dick. When he was done, he carelessly got out of the tub. “I’ll wait for y’all in the bedroom,” he muttered without even a glance back. I hadn’t noticed that Anais had stopped bathing me and was staring open mouthed in shock.

  “What the fuck was that?” Her voice held a mixture of anger and sadness.

  “That was nothing, ma.” I tried to hide the sorrow. “Now he’ll leave us alone for a while.”

  Anais looked at me forlornly and cradled me in her arms. We bathed one another and kissed for what seemed like forever. By the time we went to the bedroom, Fabian had fallen asleep on the chaise longue opposite the California king size bed. We were both relieved but neither said anything.

  We fell onto the silk sheets into each other′s arms. Anais grabbed me by the wrists and held them over my head rendering me motionless. She bit me gently but firmly on the lips and neck.

  “There’s velvet rope in the top drawer,” I whispered, coyly motioning towards the night table. Anais slipped the smooth cord around my wrists and in between the brass headboard, making it a point to leave them loose enough so she wouldn’t have trouble changing my position. She then proceeded to slowly and methodically lick and nibble me from head to toe.

  I whimpered as Anais worked her way down my torso. She left no inch of my body untouched. When she reached my pussy, she licked my Brazilian waxed bikini line and stroked my clitoris but mischievously proceeded to kiss and bite around my crotch and on my inner thigh, not stopping until she reached the point of each toe. She then turned me around and did the same to my back.

  I quivered and moaned uncontrollably when Anais reached the small of my back. This was one of my weak spots. I gasped in delight as she began to lick my ass and finger me from behind. Several times I felt like I was about to cum but just when I was about to reach the height, Anais withdrew and began to lick another spot and stimulate another area. I glanced at her, dizzy with rapture, and saw my juices dripping down her chin.

  “Release me, please,” I whispered desperately in between each pant of breath. “I wanna touch you, taste you. Let me go.”

  “No, bella,” Anais tormented lovingly. “You’re in trouble now.” She flipped me over and began to eat my pussy in a way no one ever had, flitting my clitoris rapidly with her tongue while thrusting her middle finger into my pussy. I wriggled uncontrollably. All at once I wanted to pull away and push Anais further into my crotch. Anais tongued my clitoris and fingered me with increasing vigor until I squirted milky white cum. She licked it up and continued to enthusiastically stimulate my clit and g-spot while I shuddered wildly with orgasmic spasms. She made me cum another two times before finally relenting. She then ran her fingertips lightly over my torso and breasts while I, sweating and wheezing in excitement, caught my breath.

  Anais pulled herself up towards my face. She loosened the rope while she kissed me intensely. I tried to mount her but she stopped me. “No, it’s okay, bella. This wasn’t about me. It was about y
ou.”

  “But I want to please you,” I pouted with disappointment.

  “Oh you did. I came twice just watching you shake.” She licked my lips. “You are exquisite, mami, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  We held one another, so caught up in the moment that neither noticed that Fabian had awoken and had been filming us.

  6

  I opened my eyes sleepily and squinted trying to force my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight shining through the bay windows. I smiled, remembering the night, and extended my arm, expecting to feel Anais’s soft skin. I groped the silk sheets but came up empty. I opened my eyes fully and looked around the room. Anais was nowhere to be found. Her clothes that had been lying on the red divan across the room were gone as well. I looked over at the chaise longue and saw that bare as well.

  “Where is everyone?” I wondered.

  I got up slowly and walked lazily to the bathroom. My pussy burned as I urinated; it felt like I had rug burn in my crotch.

  “Ooooh,” I winced loudly. “That bitch tore my pussy up,” I said laughing. “Put this ass to sleep.”

  I ran the shower and let the warm water cascade over my body. I touched my clit and shuddered, reminiscing about my encounter with Anais. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my side.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, you fucking whore?!” asked Fabian furiously. He jabbed me in the ribs again and grabbed me by my hair. I struggled to break free. Before I could scream, Fabian punched me in the stomach and ribs, sending ripples of pain throughout my small frame and trapping my shriek in my throat. I collapsed into a heap. He pulled me to my knees by my hair and spat in my face. “What happened? I’m not good enough for you? I’ve never heard you scream like that when I fuck you? That bitch better than me? Huh? You fucking sucia!” He threw me down and spat at me again. He glowered at me pathetically as I balled myself into fetal position and sobbed quietly into my knees. “You fucking dyke!” he yelled as he threw a crumpled up sheet of paper at me. “Your lesbian lover left you a little note before she bounced. And she left you some money too, you fucking prostitute!” He threw the crumpled bills at me and stormed out.