by David Weaver
She was undecided about whether she should throw up in the toilet or drown herself in it. All of the cheating she had done on her husband had arrived at a dead end. It was over, and after her current predicament was discovered, she was sure that her husband was going to kill her. There was no questions about it, and there was definitely no way to lie about it.
She grabbed a curling iron and threw it as far as she could. It went about five feet, but if the mirror hadn't been there it would have went fifteen feet. She stood up and staggered, drunk from the discovery of her condition. There were a thousand broken mirror chips lying in the sink and on the countertop. It was an analogy to her life.
Her life was once one happy picture, and now it was in a thousand sections. It was shattered in too many places for her to patch up. She thought about how this news was going to devastate her husband. How this news was going to uproot his entire
foundation of trust. How it could
permanently disable him from loving another person for the rest of his life. She'd never meant to hurt Richie like this.
She would have rather left him than to hurt him. Would rather have moved on to where the grass looked greener but was artificial before she hurt Jamal's brother. Her husband. Her vow sharing soul mate. She had broken her vows into more sections than the mirror, had crushed her agreement like a paper plate and slipped it into the furnace. She thought about the events that led up to her current situation. She thought about the way Jamal had stopped seeing her.
His abrupt withdrawal leaving her to expose herself as an addict. The orgasm was just like heroin, but cheaper and harder to find. She had found it finally, and consequentially realized that it was easier to find, but much more expensive. It had costed a lot. It was going to cost her everything.
Only if Jamal hadn't caught the love bug with that Lisa Lee bitch and suddenly wanted to do the "right thing," this shit wouldn't have happened. If only she had just worked on her problems with her husband. All she had to do was communicate. All she had to do was honor her marriage vows like she agreed to do initially.
If she had honored her wedding, she would never have slept with Markees out of desperation. It was a pathetic move, but she wanted a guaranteed orgasm, and who better to get it from than a professional player. If only... If only Markees hadn't given her HIV.
******
5-12-2002 Jamal had given it his very best effort to stay faithful to Lisa Lee. He had attempted to give his deceitful ways up for good. He'd done excellent for two and a half weeks straight. During that time frame, Jamal had done everything in his power to treat Lisa with respect. Out of the love for his unborn child, he was going to even consider marriage.
But after a few weeks of sleep walking, he had finally opened his eyes. When he could see, he noticed that all Lisa wanted was sex. All she wanted to talk about was sex. It baffled him how she was able to do her job when she had nothing but sex on her mind.
"Lisa, we need to talk... seriously." Lisa got up off of the love seat and put her shoes on before she responded, "Can it wait Jamal?"
"Wait for what? We're both here, there's nothing to do... there's no reason to wait... Where are you going? Sit down Lisa!"
"Man look, I'm about to go to the club." "The club? What the fuck do you think this is? A game?"
Lisa stared at him defiantly. "So I can't go to the club Jamal?"
"What? Hell no you're not going to a club, sit your pregnant ass down!" Jamal was piping hot. Angry enough to step outside of his character and swing on her as if she were a man.
"I don't see what you're trying to keep me at home for... I tried to kiss you on the neck and you pushed me off! I tried to slide my hand in your boxers and you pushed my hand away! And now you're trying to keep a bitch from going to the club? You got some nerve boy!"
Furious, Jamal said, "I stopped you from touching me because that's all you do. Constantly, over and over you grope me, grab me, touch me. In the morning you try to get me aroused. As soon as you come home instead of cooking, you wanna fuck. In the middle of the morning, I wake up and find my dick in your mouth. It seems that we're unable to have a civilized conversation because either we're both asleep and
exhausted from the sex, or you're at work."
Lisa put her hands on her hips, held it there while she held Jamal's gaze without
flinching.
"Well, I guess that's the problem then Jamal."
"What? What's the problem?"
Lisa took one hand off of her hip and pointed her finger at Jamal while she spoke, "You don't have a damn job. You sit around my house all day like the bills are going to pay theirselves and thinking that I'm going to pick up the slack for that big DUMB ASS car you got sitting out there! Who does that? You think I'm paying for that? What were you thinking to invest into something like that? That's so stupid! Over the last few weeks, I have started to come to a few conclusions about us!"
"Conclusions like what?"
"Wait Jamal, first let me ask you
something... What job did you get laid off from that you thought you could afford a $300,000 car?"
Jamal was so mad that a trickle of saliva had started to seep out of his mouth.
"I didn't get laid off from a job, I quit my job. I quit my job out of respect for you and our child. I was a motherfucking professional player!"
Lisa held her stomach and let out a
disturbing laugh.
"That was the funniest shit I have ever heard! You think you have what it takes to be a professional player? You? What a joke! I'm an educated woman who makes six figures every year with ease. Been making that type of money for five years straight. My bank account is stacked up, and basically the only thing you can do for me is make me nut for a dollar. So that's why I treat you as such!"
Jamal jumped up abruptly, his intentions to kill Lisa Lee showing through his expression. He stood in front of her and stared. His breathing came in short and quick bursts. A vein showed on the side of his neck and through his temple. His skin had dampened, nature's own attempt to cool him off a little.
"Bitch you was a muthafuckin' layover for me! I needed a place to rest and a slut to dump come into and you raised your hand to be picked. You thought I was soft because I treated you with respect? I was trying to change for you! For us! You think you're the baddest bitch alive because you're a local star? Bitch, the next time you see my name, it'll be in bright lights on a big platform. You're lucky I don't spit in your ugly ass face!"
Lisa was irate, "Get the fuck out of my house! And never come back! If you ever want to see your child this lifetime, go to Facebook!"
Jamal grabbed his things and vowed that he would spend the rest of his life making Lisa pay for her venomous words. She was already successful when they met, so he faulted himself for not knowing that her arrogance would destroy any attempt at a real relationship. He left the house plotting how he was going to rise to the top of the world just so he could look down at Lisa.
He would always provide for his child, but would make it his duty to destroy his child's mother. He glanced back at Lisa one more time, then slammed the oakwood door so hard that it sounded like a gunshot. That gunshot signaling that it was the death of their relationship.
******
Richie
5-13-2002 Richie navigated his Dodge Magnum through the busy downtown traffic. He had his window cracked slightly so that he could inhale Pittsburgh's finest odors. He slowed down when he reached Kashi's jewelery store, tempted to go in although he knew that he couldn't afford any item in the store. He drove a half block further and took a right so that he could park his car and get a haircut.
He paid the parking meter for 2 hours because he knew he couldn't afford to get his vehicle towed. Financially he was already at the crusher, taking care of his wife and kids with the proceeds of every hard-earned check. He thought about his brother and how his life was perfect, even though he did wrong every day of his life.
He started walking along th
e cobble stoned street and admired the beautiful women as they passed by him. Look, but don't touch was his motto. He was a married man and wouldn't knowingly do anything to disrespect his wife. He knew things had been bad between them lately, but he thought that it was a result of him being so stressed out from working at the steel mill. It was a strenuous and dangerous job, and it made him paranoid even in his own home.
Tonight things would change though. He was going to get a haircut, a dozen roses, then go home and treat his lady like a queen. It was their anniversary and he didn't want her to think that he had forgotten. He was also planning on getting Tammy's name tattooed on his arm.
"Hey Mikey!" Richie greeted his barber when he entered the establishment.
"What's good with you Richie?"
Richie smiled at Mikey and shook his hand.
Richie said, "Same old two step Mikey, just a new song."
"I hear that, I hear that."
Mikey had just finished a guy's haircut when Richie came in, so he immediately skipped him to the front of the line.
"Heeeeeyyyy, I was next!" A light skinned man with skinny jeans on raised the issue with a threatening frown on his face.
Mike wasn't concerned, because he was a master at handling situations like this.
"Excuse me player, this right here is the owner of the barbershop, so you know I gotta' knock him down. You're next though, and it won't take long at all. Alright?"
The light skinned man reluctantly nodded his head in acceptance.
"That's cool... I didn't know that he was the owner of the barbershop... my apologies."
Mikey smirked at Richie, who could barely contain his laughter. He thought it was hilarious because Mikey always did the same thing every time he showed up at his barbershop. It was one of the reasons that he had kept the same barber for eight years.
"Richie.." Mikey said. "What has your wild ass brother been up to?"
Richie shook his head disgustedly before answering, "Man, Jamal is crazy as shit. He still running around tricking these women. Him and that clown Markees got into it over some newscaster chick and Mar-"
"Wait a minute man..." Mikey was looking at Riche with a surprised look on his face. "Some newscaster chick? The broadcast lady on TV? Lisa Lee?!"
Richie sighed, he was visibly irritated by his brother's antics. And the admirations given to him by other men in the city certainly didn't help fix the problem.
"Yea man... Lisa Lee... Boy I tell you one thing... If Jamal don't get his stuff together and stop playing games with these women, something terrible is going to end up happening to him."
Mikey nodded his head, but didn't agree with what Richie was saying about his brother. It was well known all around Pittsburgh that Jamal was the greatest player to represent the city since the 70's when Jack the Mack ruled. Every social circle spoke highly of Jamal and it was known that the only man who didn't find Jamal's style amusing was his brother.
Even some women loved Jamal's
straightforward and honest demeanor.
"I keep telling my brother to chill. I keep telling him to get a good woman like I got and marry her like I did. I want him to experience life the way it was meant to be lived."
Mikey didn't respond to Richie's spiel, instead he changed the subject.
"You want your hair cut the same way right?"
Richie nodded. "Just like usual playboy... just like usual."
Mikey grabbed some antiseptic and a small brush and started cleaning the clippers. He always made sure to keep his shop sanitary. He kept his shop so clean, that it was often said that he was running a barbershop in a hospital room. Richie sat back in the soft leather chair and relaxed. There was a steady stream of people walking by the glass door wearing the latest fashions.
The vehicles were moving extremely slow, which was customary for downtown Pittsburgh. You never knew when someone was going to walk out in front of a vehicle like their body came with air bags.
The traffic pace went even slower, until eventually it stopped. Old trusty traffic light. Richie thought as he closed his eyes. He heard the gentle buzz of the clippers and waited to feel the soothing tingle running across his scalp.
"Oh shit!" The light skinned man with the skinny jeans on broke him out of his reverie.
"What is it?" Mickey and Richie both asked in unison.
"Oh... nothing, I see Markees just got him a new purple Cadillac with white seats and white and purple rims... it was nothing..."
This got the attention of Richie. "What kind of Cadillac?"
"Oh it looked like a CTS. One of those small Cadillacs."
Richie took a deep breath. He let the air out calm and peacefully before asking, "Uhmm, did that car have a dent in it?"
The light skinned man smiled at Richie. "Oh you saw that shit too? I thought I was seeing shit!"
Richie's heartbeat sped up to the verge of explosion. He knew that if it sped up any quicker, it wouldn't be long before he passed out. He immediately started sweating, prompting Mikey to ask him if he was o.k.
"Oh... yea I'm fine Mikey... I'm good."
Mikey gave Richie a skeptical look.
"Richie, if you want me to, I can drop by your house and give you a haircut later tonight sometime. If you got something to do, or if you're not feeling well, go take a nap. You're my partner man, I'll look out for you."
Richie got up out of the seat and turned to face Mikey. Richie's eyes were bloodshot and had the eerie look of death in them. Mikey found it strange how Richie's entire
demeanor had changed in less than a minute.
"Thanks Mikey... I gotta run."
Richie turned and ran out the door with the barber cape still fastened around his upper body.
"My capppppeeee!"
But Mikey was wasting time screaming for his cape because Richie was gone.
******
Richie Richie grabbed his 9 millimeter from under his seat and made sure that it was loaded and ready. For the 5th time he tried to call his wife's phone, but she refused to answer. If the guy at the barbershop was right, then that punk Markees was driving his wife's car around. And if he was driving her car around...
It pained Richie to think that his wife would even think to try to pull a maneuver like this. He was tracking her exact location down with the GPS app on his iPhone. He was driving like a mad man, going 20 miles per hour over the speed limit. After about 15 minutes, he realized that his wife was heading to their home.
She thought I was at work today... she wanted to cheat on me on our anniversary... she won't answer my phone calls... I'm a fool.... I should have listened to my brother...
All of these thoughts and more took seize of Richie as he rode up a steep hill going 70 miles per hour. He saw his wife's car and thought about slamming his Dodge Magnum into it. He slammed on brakes right before he crashed into it. Richie grabbed his pistol and jumped out of his car with murderous intentions. If Markees was fucking his wife, he would have them both buried within the next two hours.
****** "Ohhhhhhh Godddddd! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you so damn muccchhhh. Ahh. Ahh. Ahh. Shitttt!"
Mya was laying on her stomach while Jamal stroked her from behind. He was straddling her in such a way that the majority of his lower body weight packed pressure on his strokes. He would pull out all the way; leaving just the head in, and dig back down into the depths of her wet vagina.
"I'm coming Jammalllll! Uhhhhhhh!" Saliva was leaking from the corner of Mya's mouth while Jamal's dick stretched her walls to new widths. He leaned in and caressed the rim of her earlobe with his warm tongue. He kissed her softly on the ear, knowing that the soft and intimate sound of a kiss would send waves through her body. Jamal knew he had to pull out every trick in the book if he was going to correct his mistake and keep his Rolls Royce. His car payment was due in two days.
"Uhh. Uhh. Uhh. Yessss. Ahhhh. Ahhhh shitttt. Ahhhhh shitttttt babbbbyyyyy! Damn I hate youuuu. I hate youuuuuu."
Mya was crying w
hile Jamal rocked her body with perfected ecstasy. He had pulled out all the stops. Rose petals were on the bed, candles were lit, dinner was prepared, and promises were being made. While Jamal was stroking her, he would notice the exact moments when she came. He counted on average, about seven long and slow strokes before his dick wet up again.
She had come so much that a few of the flower petals were glued into the sheet. The sheet was cherry red, but with a large circular dark spot from her orgasmic solution.
"Ahhhhhhh. Ahhhhh. Ahhhhh. Ahhhh." He could feel her vagina squirt its
appreciation when he went deep towards her G-Spot. Could hear the soft splat of his thick and hard organ entering her small and wet canal. He kissed her on the back of her neck softly. Jamal was a professional, and knew that timing was always important in the art of being a player.
He had a talent for saying the right thing at the right moment, and this time was no different.
"Damn you feel so good to me baby," he whispered in a raspy tone, "you got the best pussy I ever had..."
It turned Mya on even further. He knew that Mya was an emotionally driven woman, and he used this to his benefit.
"Ohhhhh shittttt. U mean datttttttt?
Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Mya's breathing had sped up and she was starting to become dizzy from the pleasure; the pleasure so good that she wished that she could pause the sensation and keep it for the rest of her life.
"Argggghhhh! Argghhhh! Ahhhh. Uhhhh. Uhhh. Uhhhhhh. Jamalllllll! Why youuuuu doooo thissss toooo meeeeeee?"
She was having her biggest orgasm ever, her feminine secretions going haywire and releasing ecstatic lubricant like she had an oil leak. In the middle of her orgasmic release, Jamal reached his hand around and started rubbing her clitoris in a soft but firm circular motion. He felt her body buck from the extra pleasure, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Her nails gripped the sheets; dug into them like they didn't exist as she started mumbling incoherent phrases. Jamal knew that it was time to put the icing on the cake. He kissed her behind her ear towards the end of her orgasm, then whispered to her, "I love you Mya. I never want to leave you baby."
