“Hey, Carlos, man. Soon enough. Look, I’m headed out on an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Godfather’s okay with that. You know you my nigga, they don’t get no bigga.”
“Fa sho. Peace.”
The chirp of my auto alarm sounded just before I opened the driver-side door to toss my briefcase over upon the passenger seat. What caught my eye was something resting upon my windshield, tucked behind my driver side wiper. It was a dingy white envelope that looked like it had been through hell. I shut the door, mindful of my need to get to the hospital, and snatched it from its place.
On the front of the worn, torn envelope, written in what looked like pale purple chicken scratch, these words greeted my eyesight as my heart bounced like a rubber ball in my chest. For the second time in my life, my normally cool hands were shaking. With enlarged eyes, each word saturated my brain.
I will get my daughter if it’s the last thing I do. This I promise you, Dr. Feelgood. This I promise you. Love, Delicious.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I hope you enjoyed the ride inside of the life of a playboy! As you can tell, this story is part of a series trilogy. Dr. Feelgood is to be continued, so please stay tuned. The tentative titles are, Chain of Fools and Freeway of Love.
For now, this story ended right where it needed to, but I do have an idea of the types of wild twists and turns that will take place in the lives of Makkai, Mary Jane, Monday, Georgia, Salina, Carlos, Corrine and Al, Roosevelt, and even Erskalene. More drama for yo’ mama!
In my first novel, May December Souls, I wrote about a hormone called oxytocin. It actually does exist, so please feel free to look it up if you’d like. It is sometimes called the love hormone, and it bonds us, particularly during sex. It can affect human attachment and make us sane girls, crazy girls. We end up with Mr. Wrong for years, breaking up and making up in an addictive fashion, without knowing why. (By the way, there will be a new relationship-type book that delves deeper into this theory.)
With Dr. Feelgood, I wanted to show how these four women, who’d definitely bonded to him sexually, behaved while possibly under the influence of an oxytocin bonding. So, even though Dr. Makkai Worthy has his own set of problems, these women had their own issues, too. It’s not just the men who trip, okay?
Today, I heard it said that to love is to risk not being loved in return. Unrequited love or a relationship that ends is hard to handle once we’ve bonded. Sometimes, people literally trip out. And characters, just like real folks, are flawed and rejected and loose and dishonest and horny and caught up, all the while, hopefully searching for peace of mind. That is what brings about the fiction friction, as we authors call it.
I promise to deliver much more dramatic fiction, and even some sexy new erotica. Just give me some time to bring it all to you. And, I’ll definitely bring back more adventures of the ever popular and talented, Dr. Feelgood.
Please reach out to me if you can, at www. MarissaMonteilh.com, and sign my lovely guest book. I’d love to hear from you!
Love, peace, and hair grease!!
From Crush
“Wanted: You” by Lutishia Lovely
In stores April 2011
Dear Chaz,
I’m still burning. I thought that if I wrote my feelings down on paper, and mailed them to you, that it would be enough. It isn’t. In fact, seeing my desire in the form of the written word only increased my ardor. I WANT YOU NOW!
If you were here, I’d strip naked. Then I’d remove your clothes. We’d take a long, leisurely bath, where I would get to know every inch of your perfect frame. After drying off, I’d allow my tongue to travel where my hands had been, from your manicured toes (they are manicured, aren’t they?), to the top of your immaculately shorn head. I would suck, and lick, and explore some more. I would bid you enter my coital chamber, and spread my legs wide as further invitation. I imagine our kisses, hot and wet, as you plunge your massive manhood—
“Good morning, Lois.” Chaz’s voice was rich and deep and, Lois determined, entirely too close.
She gasped, hurriedly folded the paper, and turned around to face him. “M-Mr. Covington,” she stuttered, guilt written all over her face. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“The carpet soaks up footsteps fairly well,” Chaz said, a smile scampering across his face as he stated the obvious. “Besides, you seemed quite engrossed in whatever you were reading.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Lois’s mouth closed up tighter than a sprung mousetrap.
Chaz’s face remained neutral but inside, his mind churned. What is going on with you, Lois? You’ve been skittish all week. His investigative instinct kicked into high gear. Chaz was determined to get to the bottom of his usually unflappable assisstant’s rather flappable behavior.
“Is this all of my mail?” he asked, picking up the neatly aligned stack in Lois’s outbox.
Lois simply nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.
“Great. I need to write a motion and wish not to be disturbed. Text me my schedule, and when I’m finished, I’ve several letters to dictate.”
“Okay.”
Lois waited until Chaz’s door closed. Then she hid the latest nasty note in her pocket and hurried to the employee restroom. By the time she opened the lavatory door, her hands were shaking and she was precariously near tears. She clumsily toyed with the lock on the stall, finally pushing it into place. She sat on the stool, took several deep breaths, and tried to calm down. So much for keeping my mind on Jesus. She knew she shouldn’t, but Lois couldn’t resist unfolding the paper and finishing the crude yet necessary task her boss had interrupted. It’s my job to know what’s going on, she told herself as she skimmed the part of the letter she’d already read. I will protect him from wenches like these who are up to no good! Lois took a deep breath, and continued reading a lettter that was almost twice as long as the first one that had been sent.
… as you plunge your massive manhood into my heat. We’ll make love for hours, and when we’re done, and you’ve rested, we’ll begin again. I want to sip you like a fine wine, until you are thoroughly satisfied. You’ll gladly return the favor, your tongue a sword as it laps my nether nectar.
I am so hot for you, Chaz Covington. I don’t know if I can keep my identity a secret much longer. But how can I possibly reveal myself? Is it possible that you’ll be as attracted to me as I am to you? Maybe one day we’ll see. If dreams come true …
Until then I am and remain forever,
Yours
Lois only became aware of the tears as one fell from her cheek and plopped onto the paper. She shook herself, as if from a dream, and quickly brushed them away. Why am I crying? After dabbing her eyes with a moistened paper towel, she straightened her suit jacket and then her shoulders, determined to carrry out her duties as executive legal assistant to Chaz Reginald Covington to the best of her abilities. And I will not let a piece of smut-filled paper get in my way!
* * *
“Mrs. Smith!” Lois was surprised to return to her desk and find Delicia sitting in the mini sitting area directly across from her work station. She was even more surprised at Delicia’s markedly changed appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“I know, I should have called first,” Delicia said, a slight hint of red creeping into her butterscotch complexion. “But I just wanted to drop off this thank-you gift to Mr. Covington. He was so kind to arrange that celebration on Monday, and I felt just horrible that I didn’t … thank him more properly.”
“He’s asked not to be disturbed. I’ll be glad to take the gift on his behalf.”
“Oh. Well, I …” Delicia nervously twisted her purse handle. “Of course he’d be busy. It’s just that I took the bus down here, and it will be a while before one comes that’s heading back to where I live. Do you think I could wait? Maybe he’ll take a break.”
“His schedule is pretty full.” Lois took in Delicia’s crestfallen face and continued. “But I guess it
would be all right for you to wait a few minutes. If I get the opportunity, I’ll tell him you’re here. May I get you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
“Cream and sugar?”
Delicia nodded.
“Be right back.”
After watching Lois retreat down the hall, Delicia hungrily eyed the closed door to Chaz’s office. No one had cared for her the way Chaz Covington had since her father died in 1977. Thirty-eight years old, Delicia had been separated from a no-account husband for five years. The only thing that had stopped her from finalizing the divorce was money. But in a few short weeks she’d have more cash in her account than she’d ever dreamed possible, and soon after that, Delicia would be free.
Before her settlement, Delicia would never have considered herself worthy of someone like Chaz Covington. Not only was she poor, but she wasn’t your typical Barbie doll beauty either. Delicia had junk in the trunk and years of fries on her thighs. During the trial, she’d been too focused on the case to care about her looks. This had probably worked to her advantage in gaining the juror’s empathy. But things were different now. Life held newfound possibilities. Which is why she’d borrowed three hundred dollars from her sister to make sure she showed up for today’s visit in style. She wore a simple navy, knit jersey dress (that thanks to Spanx hugged her size sixteen curves in all the right places), three-inch pumps (that were killing her feet after missing her bus stop and having to walk back two blocks), and a fried, dyed, and laid to the side haircut (the first such style sans braids or weave since Outkast apologized to Ms. Jackson). When Delicia had left the small, two-bedroom apartment that she shared with an eighteen-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son, she felt pretty good about herself. But now, in the midst of the elegance that epitomized the Covington law offices, she wasn’t so sure she could ever belong.
Lois eyed Mrs. Smith as she brought back her coffee on a tray containing cream, sugar, and a choice of pastries. She saw the apprehensive way this former client eyed her boss’s door, and her stomach clenched. Of course! I should have known! Lois found the thought of this overweight woman being interested in her boss repugnant. She’d always seen Delicia Smith as a struggling, middle-aged single mother who’d been dealt a raw hand (no pun intended), and for whom Mr. Covington had sought and found justice. Now, Lois was beginning to see something else. When another thought popped into her head, Lois almost dropped the tray she carried.
“Oh! Are you all right?” Delicia asked, as she hurriedly placed a steadying hand on the tray, before taking it from Lois and placing it on the coffee table.
“I’m fine, just, um, stumbled.” You wrote the letters. That’s why you’re here! Lois turned and walked to her desk, lest her expression betray the sudden contempt she felt for a woman she once pitied—and who Lois realized that with this new look was not only rather attractive, but maybe not as old as she’d first believed.
I’ve got to get her out of here. After giving Delicia five minutes to eat her donut and drink a third of the coffee, Lois took action. “Mrs. Smith, I hate to rush you, but I shouldn’t have told you it was all right to stay. It’s really impossible to see Mr. Covington without an appointment so if you’d—”
“Lois, I need the petitions that we filed on the Scott case,” Chaz began, as he barreled out of his office.
“Mr. Covington!” Delicia said breathlessly, as she stood.
Chaz turned around. “Delicia! What a surprise, And don’t you look lovely.” He walked over with an outstretched hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I know I shouldn’t have come without calling, but”—Delicia reached down for her purse—“I have a gift for you, just a small token of my appreciation. I was just getting ready to give it to Lois to give to you. She said I needed to make an appointment….”
“That’s normally true. But I make exceptions.” Chaz winked at Delicia, causing her legs to almost buckle beneath her. Chaz looked at his watch. “I have a couple of minutes. Step into my office.”
If looks could kill, Lois would have faced murder charges for the daggers she shot at Delicia’s retreating back before Chaz closed the door. She opened her desk drawer, pulled out the newly created file marked “Miscellaneous-N” ('n’ for nasty, of course) and fingered the lone paper inside. So far, Lois had thought either Gina, ex-wife Jennifer Covington, or socialite Elizabeth Stein was behind the notes. But now, she knew that another name needed to be added to the list.
From Suspicions
by Sasha Campbell
In stores May 2011
1
Tiffany
“Guuuurrrrrrrl, I met this dude from Jamaica last weekend. Trust and believe me when I tell you, he was a straight-up Mandingo!”
“Peaches, sit still before I burn your ear!” Damn! How was I supposed to style her hair if she kept moving? Besides, I don’t know what made her think I wanted to listen to her talking about getting some from a dude she barely knew.
“Oops, my bad!” Peaches chuckled. “It’s just not often that I find a man with some good dick.”
“Ooh! I know that’s right,” cackled some toothpick with a jacked-up weave, sitting in the chair beside her. “I ain’t had a man with anything worth talking about in a long time. They either can’t get it up or when they do, it ain’t worth my time.”
While everyone on the salon floor started talking about men’s private parts, I simply pursed my lips and kept on flat ironing Peaches’s hair. I don’t know why my clients always think I wanted to hear about their sex lives.
“Shhhh-shhhh! I don’t know if y’all know this or not, but … Tiffany don’t know nothing about getting laid.”
I grabbed a comb and pointed it at Debra, ready to cuss her behind every which way, but decided not to waste my breath. She’s the newest stylist at Situations and unfortunately my booth happened to be right next to hers, which meant she had eavesdropped on one too many of my conversations. In fact, it was a bad habit I was determined to break. “Debra, nobody asked you to be spreading my personal business,” I mumbled. What she needed to be worried about was that no-good baby daddy of hers.
Debra gave an innocent look, then had the nerve to wave her hand like she was dismissing me. “I don’t know why you getting mad. You should be proud to let everyone know you’re not getting none.”
“Not getting none?” Peaches’s head snapped in my direction, her bubble eyes big as saucers. “What’s up with that?”
Now all eyes were on me. Damn, why she all up in my business? “I’m just not out there trying to give it up to everybody.” I wasn’t yelling, but I had definitely raised my voice.
Debra started laughing. “Everybody? Hell, you haven’t given it to anybody.”
I gave her a nasty look. With God as my witness, before long, she and I were going to have it out. “Some of us were raised to hold onto our virginity for the right man while others weren’t.” I don’t know why I was even trying to explain to a bunch of chicks who wouldn’t understand that some of us didn’t believe in giving it up to every Tom, Dick, and Jerry they come across.
“Okay … lemme get this straight. You saying you’re a virgin?” Peaches asked for clarification and swung her seat all the way around so she could look at me dead in my mouth. Thanks to Debra, they were all trying to get in my business.
“Did I stutter? I’m saving myself for the right man,” I replied with a mean glare. “Now turn around.” I was done discussing my personal life. Unfortunately, Peaches wasn’t finished yet.
“Hold up, Tif. What about that cutie pie who picked you up the last time I was here?”
I glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. The last thing I wanted was one of these trifling females in the salon to try and push up on my man. “What about him?” I said with attitude.
“I know you gotta be getting some of that,” she said, like she’d caught me in a lie. “Sheee-it, I would.”
“Puhleeze,” Debra cackled. “Tiffany ain’t gave h
im shit!”
“You lying?” Peaches’s mouth was hanging open, then all of a sudden she and Debra looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Dayuumn, Tiffany. I ain’t mad atcha!” I was seconds away from telling Peaches to get the hell out my chair because I didn’t give a damn if she believed me or not, but she was one of my best clients and times were hard.
The skinny chick sitting in Debra’s chair threw her hands up in surrender. “Hell, naw! I heard it all.”
The conversation wasn’t anything new to me. My girls had always thought it strange that I was twenty-seven and still a virgin. All of them couldn’t wait to fall in love and have sex while I had the willpower they didn’t have to say no. I won’t say it had always been easy but it was either wait or deal with Ruby Dee. My mother was one woman you didn’t want to mess with. If she said keep your legs closed then you better do it. Her fist was the only chastity belt I had ever needed.
I glanced around the floor then took a deep breath before I said, “Why is it if a woman says she’s a virgin, she has to be lying?”
“Damn, Tiffany, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. It’s just, well … almost unheard of,” Debra said on the defense.
When Peaches finally stopped laughing, she said, “Also, there is this thing called being horny. Hell, I lost my virginity when I was fourteen.”
And that’s why she had four kids. I reached for a brush. “So what? Everybody ain’t like you. My mother taught me that what I have is precious and I needed to make a man earn the privilege after he makes me his wife.” I probably sounded like I thought I was all that, but so what. Women needed to have more respect for themselves.
Debra sucked her bucked-teeth like a horse. “I know that’s right, girl! Make those niggas beg for it.” That wasn’t at all what I meant, but I doubt Debra would know the difference.
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