by Lucinda John
Love Don’t Have to Hurt
By: Lucinda John
Copyright 2015 by Lucinda John
Published by Shan Presents
All rights reserved
www.shanpresents.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales or, is entirely coincidental.
No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writer permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Prologue
With an attitude, I blew out all the candles and cleared the table of the meal I’d spent hours preparing. For the first time in six months, Lucas missed dinner. No matter how hard he worked, he always came home at seven each night so we could sit and have dinner together. We would talk about school, his day at work, and other silly nothings that I cherished. If Lucas was too busy, he would leave after giving me the dick that I’ve fallen in love with, then go back to the office. This no call, no show shit was new to me. On top of everything else, his phone was sending me straight to voicemail.
Just as I prepared to wash the dirty dishes, my phone began to ring. Rushing to it, in the hopes of it being Lucas, I picked it up. Disappointment sank in when I realized it was Shanice and not my husband. Ignoring her call, I finished my chore of washing the dishes. I sipped the expensive Chateau Margaux 2009 Balthazar that I purchased at Total Wine for four thousand dollars, directly from the bottle. Lucas had expensive taste in wine. His taste buds could single out cheap wine with just one sip.
After our trip to Italy, Lucas and I became inseparable. I was no longer his assistant, I was his woman. Owning the title of Lucas Stinger’s woman came with a lot of perks. Three months into our relationship, he surprised me with this house. It was a six bedroom, six-bathroom mansion that sat directly on Fort Lauderdale’s beach. The home was originally designed for a client, but once he saw the finished product, he decided to buy it for himself.
Shortly after moving in, we were married. Lucas couldn’t stand that he was living and having sex with me out of wedlock, so we made things official. After only four months of being together, we were already married. A lot of people called us fools, but fools had the ability to fall in love, too. Lucas became not only my lover, but also my best friend. He became my shoulder to lean on. He came into my life and turned my terrible situation into smiles and giggles.
My mother was very fond of Lucas. With his help, she was able to open a very successful daycare center, Tiny Tater Tots. He upgraded her out of the place she and my brother were living in and bought them a house in the same neighborhood as his parents. Our house was the only one separated from everyone else’s. That was because Lucas was a very private person. The only time we entertained guests in our home was on the holidays.
Once the kitchen was nice, clean, and smelling of bleach, the way Lucas liked it, I walked into our massive master bedroom and began changing out of the lingerie that I was wearing. Slipping into a pair of sweats and a tank top, I grabbed my textbook and began studying. Since Lucas had been in my life and I didn’t have to work, the majority of my focus was on school. I picked up extra classes and went to school with no breaks, cutting my graduation time in half. In three more months, I was going to graduate with my degree! I couldn’t be happier.
It was one in the morning when I finished studying, and there was still no word from Lucas. I began to panic when I called and kept getting the voicemail. Just when I was about to call his office, the alarm chirped, letting me know my husband was home.
I heard him walk into the kitchen. I knew he was inspecting everything, making sure it was cleaned to his liking. I heard the microwave turn on and the chair being pulled away from the table, scraping across the floor. This motherfucker walks in the house six hours late and warms up food to eat before coming upstairs to greet me. Upset, I marched down the stairs to read my thoughtless husband his rights.
“It’s one-fifteen in the morning. Where were you?” I asked, with my arms across my chest.
“I was working,” he shrugged.
“You were working? That is the only explanation you have for your wife?” I asked, getting in his face.
“I’m a grown ass man, I didn’t think I needed to explain my fucking self!” he yelled.
“I am your fucking wife! When you walk your black ass in my fucking house at hoe hours, then yes, you owe me a fucking explanation.”
WHAP!
Lucas slapped me hard across my face, splitting my lip. He then tuned back to his food and began eating like what he just did was acceptable.
“You hit me?” I asked, shocked.
“I sure did,” he shrugged, taking his empty dish to the sink. “Clean that up.”
“You just put your hands on me, I ain’t doing shit but packing my things.”
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
He punched me, making my head spin.
“You’re going to do what?” he asked, kneeling so that we were eye level.
The burning in my jaw prevented me from talking. Tears mixed with blood ran down my face as I tried to make sense of the situation.
“I’m talking to you! Answer me when I fucking ask you a question!” he yelled, grabbing me by my hair.
“I’m going to wash the dishes,” I mumbled.
“Good girl. Next time you try to spit some hot shit about you leaving me, remember, only in death do us apart,” he said, tossing my head back.
“Make sure you get that fucking blood up off my damn floor,” he said, walking up the steps.
I tried to get up off the floor, but my head spinning made me lay back down. Balling up in the fetal position, I cried my eyes out. How could someone so loving hit his wife as if she were a man? I asked myself. Lucas didn’t peg me as the abusive type. In fact, up until today, he had been very gentle with me. He wasn’t aggressive and he didn’t make me feel unsafe. This one-eighty-degree change in his behavior confused me. Afraid that he might come back down and finish me off, I forced myself to get up off of the floor. Crawling to the kitchen, I used the sink to pull myself up. With shaking hands, I washed the single dish that was in the sink, then grabbed the Clorox spray to clean the blood that stained our very expensive Italian marble flooring.
“I’m sorry baby,” he apologized once I walked up the stairs. “I lost a big client that I spent all night trying to please and I was just so angry. I should have never put my hands on you.”
Grabbing my hands, he led the way to our adjoining bathroom, and put a rag under hot running water. Squeezing the excess water out of the rag, he placed it on my face and cleaned up the bruises he’d caused to my face.
“Are you going to leave me now?” he asked with tears in his eyes.
I was afraid to answer him for fear of what he might do to me. This wasn’t my loving husband standing before me. This was a monster. There was a stranger in my home and I wanted the intruder gone.
“Aimee Lee Stinger, are you going to leave me?” he asked. The tears that were in his eyes started to fall, tugging at my heart.
“No baby, I’m not leaving,” I whispered.
“Good,” he said, kissing me on th
e cheek as he finished cleaning my face.
When he was done, he rid me of my bloodstained clothes and laid my naked body on the bed. Spreading my legs wide, he licked my pussy until I cried out in pleasure. Moans escaped my lips, as tears dripped from my eyes. I prayed whatever this outburst was would never happen again. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the feeling of my husband tickling my insides with his wicked tongue.
Chapter 1
Aimee
Grabbing the cash from the petty ass paycheck I just received, I thanked the bank teller and walked over to my beat-up 2000 Toyota Camry. Before I could get to my car, my check had already been spent. Between helping my mother with the bills, caring for my brother, and paying for school, there was nothing left. I was lucky if I was able to scrape up a few dollars to get something done to my hair.
“Oh God, no! What are you doing?” I asked the man as he hooked my car to the tow truck.
“You’re illegally parked ma’am,” he replied, proceeding with doing his job.
“I know. I’m sorry, but please, I’m here now, can I just go?” I begged.
“I’m sorry, I have to do my job,” he replied as he finished hooking up my car to the back of his truck.
“Well, where am I supposed to go and pick up my car?” I asked frantically.
“On Oakland and Andrews. If you hurry up and beat me there then the charge to pick it up will only be one hundred and sixty dollars,” he nonchalantly replied, like one hundred and sixty dollars wasn’t a lot of money.
“Only a hundred and sixty dollars?” I laughed, unable to believe this shit.
“Yes. I’m sorry,” he shrugged before getting in his car and driving off.
Letting out a deep breath, I called Uber and waited for my ride so that I could go get my car. I had just cashed a check for six hundred dollars and already one hundred and sixty dollars of it was being thrown in the trash. I still had to pay the two-hundred-dollar light bill, mine and my brother’s phone bill and I had to pay four hundred dollars for my classes in order to start on time. I’d been pushing back returning to school, but it was something I needed to do. I didn’t want to spend my life scrubbing white people’s floors, making little to no money, and living paycheck to paycheck.
When my Uber pulled up, I read him off the address and sat with my head against the headrest. To be only twenty-three years old, I’ve been through hell. My parents weren’t bad people. My father died of colon cancer when I was eighteen, which landed us in the debt we’re in now. When my father died, my brother Ashton was only five and had no clue what was going on. CPS threatened to take him away from my mother because she wasn’t in her right mind, causing me to drop out of Juilliard. My hard work had earned me a full dance scholarship, which I had to let go of because my family came first.
“That will be nineteen-ninety-five,” the driver said once we pulled up to the impound lot.
I handed him a fresh twenty. I got out of the car and walked through the glass doors of West Way Towing.
“Hi. How may I help you?” the perky white lady asked.
“I’m here to pick up my car.”
“Year, make and model?” she asked.
“2000 Honda Accord.”
“What is the color of the vehicle?”
“Black.”
“Thank you,” she smiled, typing the keys of her computer.
“License, please.”
I fished through my Walmart brand purse and pulled out the matching cheap, yet fashionable wallet. Handing her my wallet, I waited for her to put in my information.
“Since the truck just got here, it is only going to be sixty-three dollars, and that’s the service fee.”
“Thank you,” I smiled, silently thanking the Lord.
I handed her four twenties and waited for my change. Once she gave me my money, she led me to the driver that was now lowering my car to the ground. After checking my registration, we quickly checked through my car and I was handed my keys and license.
“Thank you,” I smiled before getting in my car and burning rubber.
Since I had some time to spare before picking my brother up from school, I decided to head to my best friend Shanice’s house. When they said opposites attract, they had Shanice and me in mind. Shanice and I were like night and day in terms of personalities. She was loud and outspoken, while I was shy and timid. We both studied at Broward College in hopes of bettering ourselves and finding more promising careers. While I worked for Molly Maid Service, Shanice was a stripper at a night club called Rol-Lex. I never judged her for what she did, if anything, I admired her because she never missed a day of class and her GPA was always on point.
“Hey bestie,” Shanice cooed when she opened the door for me.
Shanice’s occupation allowed her to live comfortably. She lived in a nice area near the beach, while I lived across town in Fort Lauderdale’s slums. We were on subsidized housing. The rent to our three bedroom-three bathroom was only three hundred dollars a month, so there were no room for complaints.
“What’s up,” I replied, making a beeline to the kitchen.
Shanice was going to school to become a chef. Her dream was to be a personal chef to celebrities who were rich and too busy to cook for themselves.
“Mmm, it smells so good in here,” I groaned, looking through the pots.
“Girl, if you don’t close my pots, I know something,” she fussed.
Grabbing a meatball and popping it in my mouth, I closed the meat sauce that was bubbling away in the pot.
“You won’t believe the day I had,” I sighed, taking a seat on one of her decorative barstools.
“Spill it.”
“My car got towed,” I sighed, “so I ended up spending unnecessary money out of my check.”
“I know you might say no, but with everything going on, why don’t you consider dancing at the club?” she suggested.
“No!” I yelled.
“Why not? I mean, you can just do it on the weekends. Last night, I made five thousand dollars and I didn’t even work my full shift because I had to come home and study,” she replied.
“But…”
“But nothing. Society makes it look like strippers are just lazy hoes looking for a quick come-up. Some of that may very well be true, but in our case, it’s a way out. Instead of laboring at your job for chump change, you can be making hella cash money at the club.”
“I don’t know.”
“Listen, Aimee, I love you like a sister. I wouldn’t bring you into anything that I knew wouldn’t help. This making six hundred dollars every two weeks is stressing you out. You can barely pamper yourself like you deserve to,” she continued.
“I don’t even know what to do. I don’t have a body like yours,” I said, putting my head down.
Shanice had the body of a goddess. She stood 5’5” and was stacked like a brick house. Her body resembled Toya Wright’s, only her ass was meatier and she was thicker around the waist. Her deep, dark skin was free of blemishes and glowed all the time. Her weave was always laid to perfection and her nails and toes stayed on point. Shanice was one of those girls that you would see on the arm of a famous rapper.
“Come on, Aimee, don’t do that. Your body is amazing. You’re in great shape. You’re a dancer,” she reminded me.
Examining myself in her hallway mirror, there was no doubt that I was beautiful. Although I didn’t have the voluptuous body Shanice possessed, I still had a nice frame because I was athletic. My stomach was flat and tight. My breasts were double D’s, and my ass poked out, turning heads every time I walked past. I stood tall at 5’9” with smooth, almond butter skin. I had deep dimples in my cheeks that appeared without me having to smile. I was what they considered built thick; I had the thickness of an athlete.
“Girl, you’re Serena Williams thick. I swear you could have Drake drooling over your ass,” she said, causing me to giggle.
“I wouldn’t even know what to do,” I shrugged.
“I’ll show yo
u,” Shanice replied, disappearing into her room.
When she came back, she was dressed in her dancing gear, with a pair of pumps on her feet. She hit the button on her stereo, and flipped a switch on the wall. Colorful lights displayed across the room. A pole descended from the ceiling.
Fetty Wap’s “679” began to play, causing her to rock her hips. The way Shanice moved was calculated, yet seductive. The dancer in me put all of her moves into eight counts as I learned the art of twerking. I was more of a contemporary ballet dancer, so this was kind of out of my element; however, I was a quick learner. Dance was dance, and a dancer’s biggest accomplishment is mastering different dance techniques.
Shanice grabbed the pole, then climbed all the way to the top, spun three times, then slid all the way down into a full split. She bounced her ass up and down in the split before gyrating her hips into the ground.
“See, it’s simple,” she said, still bouncing her ass to the beat.
“I’ll think about it. I have to go pick up Ashton,” I said, rushing to get my bag.
“Wait, let me fix y’all some food,” she said, stopping me.
I waited as she grabbed a huge Tupperware container and filled it with spaghetti, crab cakes, fried shrimp, and garlic bread.
“Thanks bestie,” I said, grabbing the bowl from her.
“Anytime. Here, take this,” she said, slipping a band of money in my bag.
“I can’t, Shanice.”
“You can and you will,” she smiled, winking at me. “That’s what friends are for.”
“I really appreciate you,” I replied, hugging her.
“This friendship is forever.”
“Roger that,” I replied and we did our famous handshake.
Shanice walked me to my car and watched until I pulled off. When I made it to North Side Elementary, there was already a line of cars waiting to pick up their kids. I allowed the sweet sounds of Mary J. Blige to occupy my mind as I waited for the bell to ring. I was almost in a deep slumber when I heard my car door open and close.
“Hey, Aimee!” my brother greeted me before putting on his seatbelt.
