INTRO

Tonight was the night. Club Odyssey's Annual Valentine's Day Poetry Mixer. We had barely opened the doors and the place was already packed with singles and couples. From the bar to the tufted leather chairs and sofas, every available space was covered by those looking for love, nursing broken hearts, and celebrating with their significant others.

Odyssey was the place to be tonight. Anyone who was looking to be out on Valentine's Day was here and I was the man of the hour. This wasn't the first time I had hosted this event, but it was the first time I was nervous. Tonight, my woman was going to be in the building.

The last year and a half hadn't been easy. I wasn't a man that was used to being in a serious relationship. I didn't explain my actions and I preferred to keep most of my thoughts to myself. I was what my woman called "emotionally unavailable," and she had had enough of my shit. I ignored all of that until she was almost out of the door. Just thinking about her leaving was enough to send me into a panic.

"You ready, baby?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I turned towards the woman that held my heart and soul between her perfectly manicured fingers. "I don't know, Isis. I'm a little nervous."

Sidling up to me, the chocolate beauty straightened my blood red tie and dusted off imaginary lint from the white dress shirt I wore. I looked at myself in the mirror hanging above the massive wooden bar and critiqued my appearance. Flawless butterscotch skin, piercing grey eyes framed by thick lashes, freshly cropped sandy brown hair and goatee, my lanky 6'3" frame was swathed in a tailored charcoal grey three-piece suit. With a gleaming two-carat diamond stud earring in each ear, I had to admit that I was looking mighty handsome, but nothing compared to the woman standing in front of me. Her statuesque frame sheathed in a sheer lace dress that matched my tie; Isis resembled the Egyptian goddess of healing and rebirth that she was named after.

"You have no reason to be nervous, baby. You got this." Glancing at her watch, Isis kissed me on the cheek. "It's almost time. I'm going to go grab us some drinks."

I watched as she walked away from me. Hips were swaying and five-inch heels were tapping out an ancient rhythm as she made her way to the bar, the golden glow from the recessed lighting illuminating the deep hue of her skin. Taking a deep breath, I glided around pockets of patrons until I made my way to the stage. The lights began to dim and everyone scurried to their seats. In front of the stage was a black leather sofa with red pillows. Isis took her place on the sofa and crossed her legs. Her thick thighs were on display thanks to the split in her dress. I couldn't wait to have those thighs wrapped around me later on tonight.

Cracking my knuckles, I shook off my nerves and made my way up the three steps that led to the stage. The lights surrounding the stage obscured my view of the audience, easing some of the nerves that were assaulting my system.

2

"Good evening and welcome to the Odyssey's Annual Valentine's Day Poetry Mixer. I'm your host, Omari Rhodes." I grinned at the deafening applause, whistles, and the few catcalls that were showered upon me, boosting my confidence. "We have a few veterans here that are ready to bless us with their verses. But, to all my newbies out there, don't be shy. All night will be Open Mic. So, feel free to come up and tell that special someone how you feel. Or, for those of you flying solo, use this mic to spit game to that lovely lady or handsome man you spotted when you walked in. Now, before I take my seat and open up the mic, I'd like to kick things off with a poem of my own titled Cycle of Love."

Again, the audience roared with excitement. I was one of the premier poets in Chicago and hosted many events. I used to be at all the Open Mics and Slams, working out my issues through prose. Over the last year and a half, I had shut down. My creative juices dried up. I had writer's block like a motherfucker. It wasn't until recently that I had begun writing again. Tonight was the first time in eighteen months that I would speak my truth in rhymes that touched an audience's soul.

I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and spoke to my heart…

Cycle of Love

By: Jasheem Wilson

As long as she's happy, I think, as she gets ready.

When she walks out the door, my heart gets heavy.

She tells me she'll be back; that she's going out with friends.

But I've followed her before; I know all about the other men.

I just don't know why; what could it be?

Am I not giving it to her good enough?

Is she replacing me?

I give her everything but she still goes astray.

I'm afraid to confront her about it because she might run away.

So, I sit back and watch her change and I know it's a shame.

The way I cover her tracks and act like I don't hear her call his name.

I know I'm a good man. Any woman would be happy with a man like me

But something is making me stay when I know I should leave.

She comes back in the morning around three

and I guess I'm happy she comes home to me.

I have to support us and go to work; I hate leaving her alone

so when the day is over, I rush home.

And there she is, right where I left her, making my heart heavy.

As long as she's happy, I think, as she gets ready.

I opened my eyes to dead silence and then earsplitting clapping and praise rained out from the crowd.

I was back!

I quickly made my way down the steps and came face-to-face with the love of my life. Tears streamed down her gorgeous face and I kissed them away without hesitation. Shame and shock clouded her pretty brown eyes. She thought I didn't know. How could I not? I knew this woman almost as well as I knew myself.

"Omari," Isis breathed against my ear as I settled into my seat.

"Hush, love. We'll talk about everything later. I promise tonight's going to be a memorable night."

As we watched the first poet of the night take the stage, I was determined to keep this promise...

...I Miss You

They were all looking at me. Judging me. I knew it was stupid to think that they knew who was in the urn. It was also stupid of me to care.

The entire night I'd pretty much kept to myself. I sat in my corner and listened to the poetry filling my ears. Each was reminding me of Lyrica. I looked at the urn and took another shot. It was all my fault. The consequences of playing with a woman's heart.

I was happy when the distraction of the commotion of a woman dressed like a Christmas Tree was fireman carried out of the club. Trying to figure out what happened after the fact gave me something to do; something else to think about. Something besides my first love sitting on the bar to my left.

As I finished my fifth shot of gin, I heard a familiar voice over the air and turned around quickly. I looked around at the urn first and then back to the stage. I stood to my feet slowly as the woman spoke about the L word.

Shielding my eyes as I squinted towards the stage my heart pounded. I knew it wasn't her, but she sounded just like her. Though the chocolate beauty on stage sounded just like Charity, it wasn't her. No, she was far from the woman who crushed my heart.

Chapter 2

"Fuck you, you ole limp dick ass bitch," Charity yelled from my guest bedroom. "I hope you, that bitch and y'all syphilis burn in hell."

I looked up at the three police officers standing by while my in-home care worker Charity banged around in my spare room.

Charity came to work for me when I came home after I wrapped my Beemer around a tree. All the doctors I'd seen told me I would walk again, but after a month of no progress, I'd all but lost hope. My legs and most importantly my dick didn't work like it should have. I was a mess and Charity was there. Charity was the woman that sat there sucking my dick though it didn't always respond. Needless to say, she went above and beyond her job description, and I had to admit, I liked it.

"Oh, dirty dick nigga!"

I'd been warned about this, scorning a woman. I was warned about playing with a woman's heart.

What goes around comes back around I was warned.

But I never understood what I was doing to the heart of these women because I didn't fall in love. Something I couldn't say was the same for Charity as I waited patiently in my wheelchair.

"Oh and get this mutha fucka," Charity said walking out of the room with two full duffle bags. "The two times in the last six months you could almost get it up, I faked it you crippled bitch." Charity walked to the door and threw her bags out into the hall before starting back to the room. "You never gone find another bitch like me, I took care of you nigga. I-"

"You did your job Charity," I mumbled under my breath.

Charity had been packing for more than thirty minutes. I knew at this point she was just walking back and forth running her mouth only to prolong her stay.

"MY JOB!" Charity yelled, stopping before she walked back in the room and turned. Damn, I didn't think she'd hear me over all her yelling. Charity looked between the three officers who looked at her before she turned her eyes on me. "Was my job to suck your nasty ass shriveled dick?"

"Ma'am," one of the female officer sighted impatiently. "You've already had thirty minutes to collect your things. You can take another quick look around to make sure you have everything, but, then we need you to leave."

Charity looked around the room at the three officers in disbelief. Charity's anger quickly faded away, and tears filled her eyes. "Is this what you want? Is this how you really want this to end?"

It wasn't. I felt bad. I really did. But, Charity was becoming a little much. Not to mention she was certifiable. Coupled with the fact that she was looking for something I was not willing to give. The only reason she got as much of my time as she did was because I was stuck in this damn apartment since my car accident.

I'd hoped that after a month, three months at the longest that I'd be able to at the very least stand on my own. At that point, I wouldn't need any type of in-home care, and she would then be forced to leave.

"Ma'am, I'm going to tell you again, please grab your things and get ready to leave," the female officer instructed.

"I love you, Tommy," Charity whined, tears streaming down her face. "Don't do this Tommy; we can work it out, make it better. I don't have to be your worker. I can quit." Charity started towards me, and the female officer who was speaking had a hand on her shoulder. Charity swatted at the officer's hand as she pulled away, "Don't touch me!"

My mouth slowly opened as I watched the two female officers pounce and start manhandling Charity out the door.

Chapter 3

Men can be damsels in distress. We just don't recognize it when we are. When I look back, my moment came when I thought I was going to die.

I was moving around my apartment in my wheelchair with ease. I didn't need Charity; I was determined to prove it. I'd once been hot shit. Standing at 5'11 with a solid 180 pounds I was a man's man; God's gift. I was on my own and had my own. I went to the gym four days out of the week, two of which I played ball.

I didn't need Charity.

With more effort than I was willing to admit I managed to make myself some dinner. After dinner and a successful trip to the bathroom on my own, I decided to take a bath and get ready for bed. I turned the bath water on and brushed my teeth.

I could bench more than twice my weight, so it wasn't that hard getting into the bathtub.

I didn't need Charity or anyone. I could take care of myself.

It took me a bit of time and a great deal of energy to bathe myself. But I did it and lay back letting the warm water relax my sore muscles. I closed my eyes. I needed to walk again. No, not to work because I was set for life. A few good investments by my parents coupled with their life insurance allowed me a healthy trust fund. I needed to walk to get back to my life, so I could be free and leave this damn apartment.

As I soaked, I started thinking about the man I once was and all the women I'd had. I wasn't a bad guy. It wasn't like I forced these women to have sex with me. It wasn't even like I tricked them. On the contrary, I was an absolute gentleman. I wined and dined them. I pampered them and showered them with gifts. I treated them like queens if even for a short while.

I started to rub my inner leg. I could feel the pressure of my hand as I grabbed my dick. Flashes of women danced through my mind getting me half hard. I squeezed my shaft a few times thinking of my physical therapist Lisa. I could picture her in her white coat with nothing on underneath.

Lisa was a freak. A white freak.

I started stroking, slowly trying to coax more blood into my penis. There was a time when I hadn't used my hand in over two years. I didn't need to. I tried to block Charity's words out of my head. Though I sat there calmly, it affected me because I knew it was true. I wasn't the man I once was. Back then the wind could blow, and I'd get hard.

Water slashed out of the tub as I rubbed my dick viciously as I tried to replace Charity's words with women from my past conquests. I felt my back slide down a little, but I didn't stop. I could feel myself fully erect. I didn't want to lose it; I wanted to get my nutt. I had to.

The last thing I remembered thinking was I didn't need Charity before my legs bent and I slipped under the water.

Chapter 4

I couldn't get myself back up. I couldn't straighten my leg, and I couldn't get a grip on the side of the tub. The soapy water had my eyes burning as I tried to gasp for air but I was swallowing water. I couldn't even yell out for help; it wouldn't matter if I did, no one would hear me.

I don't know how long I was fighting for my life before the fight faded out of me. My vision tinted as I settled under the soapy water. I couldn't believe this was how I was going to die. I would have thought my car accident would have taken me out, not drowning at the bottom of my bathtub.

The sharp pain in my chest told me the air was almost completely out of my lungs.

As I watched the last of the air in my lungs escape in bubbles to the surface of the water, my life started flashing before me. The sharp pain in my chest began to subside as the bathroom grew ever darker and darker. There was a flash of lights somewhere off in the distance. Before everything went black, I saw an angel looking down at me. The most beautiful face I'd ever seen. I smiled up at her soft angelic face before everything went black and I let her take me.

I was in total darkness, total absolute darkness. I knew I was dead, even when I started to feel the constant sharp pain in my chest again. As the severe pain grew sharper and sharper, my eyes shot open. I jerked up straight and leaned over throwing up water.

Coughing as my lungs tried to suck in as much oxygen as it could, I felt a hand on my back.

"It's okay. Breathe," I heard as the hand patted my back.

Charity? I thought trying to wipe the water out of my eyes and ignore the stinging.

"Are you okay Mr. Brush? I called the ambulance; they'll be here in a minute."

"What?" I managed in a painfully raspy voice.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I slipped," I answered squinting to get a lock on her face. I was sure it wasn't Charity, but, "Who are you? How did you get in?"

Every word was painful.

"I'm Lyrica Hernaez," she responded, and I could feel her patting my face with a dry towel. I grabbed it and buried my face into it, coughing and patting at my eyes. "I knocked but no one answered, and the door was open. I'm your new in-home care worker and, oh-"

"What?" I asked removing the towel and getting a real look at her.

Though my eyes burned, I couldn't close them. I was mesmerized. The angel I'd seen in the water was Lyrica. Her skin was soft and smooth. Her skin tone was a perfect caramel set around eyes that looked so black you'd fall in. Her hair was soaking wet and curly. My attention started to wander to her damp shirt but was quickly drawn back to her wide eyes.

She cleared her throat and looked down. I followed her eyes down to the floor. I looked back up at her beautiful face.

"What?"

This time trying to keep her eyes level with mine she tilted her head down. I searched the floor until my sights fell to my lap. My dick was standing tall and strong.

Chapter 5

I was back. Despite the embarrassment of almost killing myself trying to masturbate, I found a silver lining. My dick got hard, like really hard. And I knew it wasn't a fluke this time because after the paramedics left me alone with Lyrica, I got hard again.

Lyrica was the most beautiful, sexiest woman I'd ever met and now she was living with me. I knew that my dick was standing up for her, because later that night after she helped me to bed, I was able to get hard again. I could still smell her in my room. She smelled like flowers, or what I would imagine flowers should smell like.

I closed my eyes as soon as she shut the door and did what I'd been waiting to do since I saw Him back in action. I took Him for a test drive with her smell lingering in my nose and the thought of her wet shirt clinging to her double Ds in my mind. It took me no time to rub one out. By the time I started my second test drive I knew the perfect way to celebrate.

Lyrica.

The only problem was Lyrica seemed not to want me. She took playing hard to get to a new level. I was pulling out all of my stops, well, all the ones I could without leaving the apartment. Under the guise of gratefulness, I convinced her to have dinner with me. After learning that she was Vegan, I told her she had the night off and to relax. I was going to take care of dinner.

With a little help from Door Dash and five Vegan women under my belt, I ordered everything on the menu at Gracias Madre in San Francisco. I figured we'd need the leftovers since there was nothing close to Vegan in my refrigerator.

Our first dinner went well. Though I knew it wouldn't be that easy to get in Lyrica's pants, I was sure she heard all about Charity from the agency that sent her. I'm pretty sure she'd been warned.

But still, I didn't want dinner to end.

Though I did the majority of the talking, her shy giggles were cute and had me on rock under the table almost all of dinner.

"Well, thank you for dinner," she said after a brief pause in one of my monologues. "But, I need to get to bed and so do you mister. I-"

"Ah come on, it's such a relief to have someone I can talk to," I admitted. "And I been talking so much, you didn't get a chance to tell me your life story."

She laughed revealing deep dimples which she quickly covered with her hand. "No, don't cover your smile. It's beautiful."

Trying to straighten her face she rolled her eyes, "Look, I've been seeing a therapist since I was eight and she doesn't even know my whole life story. Now, you may be at home, but I'm at work. I-"

"No, I gave you the night off," I smiled at her. "Just have one drink with me. Come on; you saved my life."

She looked at me with those deep black eyes and racked a hand through her hair. Fingers ran through her thick mane absentmindedly as she looked me up and down.

"Come on, just this once. No strings." I had my hands up in the air to show nothing up my sleeves.

"Don't think that you saved my lifeline is going to work much longer," Lyrica said with a smile and a wink as she stood up and left the table.

I took a deep breath and waited for a second for my dick to go down before wheeling off after her.

Chapter 6

One drink turned to two, to three, to four.

I discovered so much about her that night. I learned that she liked football because of her father, who raised her in Chicago and died five years ago. She loved video games, especially sports games.

I was ready to turn on the PlayStation after another drink, but she'd had enough. I convinced her to let me put myself to bed and rolled her to her room. I told her how much I enjoyed her company. She really was a breath of fresh air.

"I haven't been able to talk to a lot of people and my last in-home care worker," I shrugged thinking about Charity. "We just couldn't talk."

"I understand," Lyrica said leaning against the door frame to the spare room I noticed she'd cleaned. "Well," she yawned. "We better get to sleep."

"Okay," I smiled up at her. The alcohol did nothing but make her even more beautiful. "Maybe we could do this again." I was flirting a little.

She didn't respond. I tried to locate her eyes, so I scrunched down in my chair to catch her eye. "What do you think?"

Lyrica bit her lip, and I looked down to see the tent pitched in the front of my sweats. I quickly covered myself with my hands embarrassed by Him for the second time. I really wanted her, and from the look she was giving me, she wanted me.

I knew the look, and I knew it well.

Snapping out of her lustful drunk haze as if she remembered something she said, "Goodnight," and quickly shut the door.

I did the Roll-of-Shame back to my room as silently as I could. I didn't want her to think I was a stalker and was just sitting outside the door. I threw back the covers and hopped in my California King, stripped and pulled the covers back up. It was almost midnight. As my body relaxed, I closed my eyes and fell asleep with Lyrica running through my mind.

And then she was in my bed.

I didn't open my eyes for fear that she would change her mind like she'd done at her room door. I could imagine it. Our eyes would lock, and she would realize the mistake she was making. Instead, I let her warmth envelope my penis. I moaned out loud as my head tingled as I pushed deep inside of her. I was laying on my side gripping her hips tightly. Pulling her closer, I started breathing heavily trying to hold back my nutt. But I couldn't, I was gonna-

Chapter 7

Feeling the sensation of my release I opened my eyes to my dark room.

Alone.

I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. It was ten past two in the morning. I looked at my bedroom door which was still closed. I looked around for any sign that anyone had been in my room since I'd got into bed.

I found none.

My clothes were still thrown haphazardly on and around my wheelchair.

What the fuck? I thought. But, she was just here.

I reached under the blankets still in disbelief at how real my dream was; how real it felt. My hand brushed something wet, and I pulled my hand up quickly. I peed.

Fuck!

I threw my covers back and turned on the light on my nightstand. Searching my sheets, I quickly found a small wet spot. Lifting it to my nose, I smelled.

It wasn't urine.

I looked down at my penis still glistening from the seamen around the head.

What the fuck? Did I just have a wet dream?

Chapter 8

The next morning Project Lyrica was in full swing. I needed to clean myself up. I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep; I decided to order Lyrica some breakfast.

After I cleaned myself up, I went into the kitchen to straighten up our dinner mess. But everything was already cleaned up and put away.

When had she done that?

I rolled to the living room and peeked around to see if her door was closed. Extremely relieved I scheduled a Door Dash delivery from a Vegan place which had Vegan Chick'n and Waffles. It was six in the morning. I was pretty sure Lyrica was up later than me cleaning the kitchen, so I thought she would sleep for another hour or two.

So, I decided to get her something nice. A quick email to one of my jewelers got me a beautiful rose gold tennis bracelet. I had him charge it to my account, and he told me he could have it sent the next day.

I flipped on the television to catch up on some college ball stats. I watched the TV as my dream about Lyrica ran through my mind. I could feel my dick pushing up the hands I had folded in my lap when I heard Lyrica's door open. I pushed my erection down and turned my head.

"Good morning," I called from my seat in front of the television.

"Morning," I heard her call back in a deep raspy voice. It was cute in contrast to the high pitch her voice usually took.

I turned my chair around, waiting to see how she looked in the morning. It seemed like I was waiting forever for her to walk out, but I was rewarded for my patience. Lyrica walked out of the room making bed head look like it belonged on the red carpet. Though her face was a little swollen from sleep, she was still beautiful.

Her dimples appeared as she smiled at me. She came out in a thin robe.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked wanting nothing more but to spend the day as we did the night.

"Good, that bed in there is everything," she laughed and so did I.

Now that I wasn't drunk, I realized that her laughs were infectious. Cute and airy; free.

"You should try mine," I threw in.

"Oh, you wanna trade?" she joked. "No, I was just coming to see if you were up and what you wanted for breakfast." The television got her attention. She slowly started towards my 70' Curved TV. Sounding distracted she said, "I was gonna run to the store and grab a few things to cook. Damn, I knew Chicago State wasn't shit."

"No, don't worry. I ordered us a little something for breakfast," I told her. "I thought it'd be nice to wake up to something other than leftovers."

She eyed me out the corner of her eye suspiciously before speaking slowly. "Mr. Brush I've-"

"Tommy, you can call me Tommy Lyrica," I sighed with a small impatient laugh.

"Oh yeah, look, Tommy, I thank you for last night, it was wonderful," she smiled toothlessly but her dimples still showed. "But I am here to take care of you. I am here to clean and help you get back to full health. I can't have you buying me things and-"

"It's just that I'm so grateful. You might not think it's a big deal but, I could have died," I said sincerely.

"Didn't I tell you last night that wasn't going to work much longer?"

Chapter 9

She meant it too.

But one thing Vegans hate more than animal products is letting good Vegan food go to waste. I was sure that she would eat each and every time I ordered us food, but she asked me to stop.

I didn't force myself or my ways on any women.

So, when she told me she wouldn't accept the tennis bracelet from me under no circumstances, there were no more gifts either. Lyrica was determined to keep things strictly professional.

As weeks passed and Lyrica gave me nothing. I was no closer to knowing her, finding something we could commonly relate on, or build from. Sure, there was football, but, that was football. We didn't do anything more than talk shit about one another's teams.

Project Lyrica was all but dead until the following week. Lyrica had been trying to talk me into going back to physical therapy, something I hadn't done since Charity found out about Lisa and I. I would have been a fool to believe that she would have kept her mouth shut after the way she was drug out. Though Lisa hadn't reached out to me other than to tell me that I missed another appointment and if I wanted to continue, I'd need to call and set new appointment dates. Lyrica already called and had the dates set.

"I don't want to retire here," she laughed rolling her eyes. "So, I'm going to need you to walk. I'll go with you, and we will do it here together."

"Okay, okay," I gave in. "I'll go back to physical therapy, under one condition."

"What?"

"You go on a date with me."

I expected a quick, "no," instead I got a slow one.

She started by shaking her head, "I'm sorry Tommy but, I don't mix business with pleasure. This is my job."

"I know, but, I just, I don't know, you're different," I admitted to her spitting game.

"Believe me; I know that more than anyone," she laughed. "Now, if you were walking then that'd be different." She shrugged, "Who knows?"

"Deal!" I said.

I was going to walk again, even if it is just so I could smash.

Chapter 10

I told her I didn't want her to come with me. Lyrica eyed me suspiciously but respected my wishes. She took me downstairs and waited until the transportation van was driving away.

I got to Stanford Rehabilitation Center within thirty minutes. I nervously wheeled myself into the waiting area, but I didn't check in. Instead, I sat, thinking.

I didn't know what to expect from Lisa or what to say. I looked up at the clock on the wall in the waiting room. It was two twenty-five p.m.; I still had five minutes until my appointment. With every tick of the clock, the sensation to leave became greater and greater. The thoughts of my prize, Lyrica kept me in place until the thought of Charity popped into my mind.

What if Lisa acted like Charity? Or worse?

By the time it was two thirty I was on the elevator on my way back down. I called my driver trying to think of something to say to Lyrica. I couldn't tell her I didn't go. I could just go out somewhere for the next two hours then return home like I'd been working hard.

Thoughts swirled around my mind. I only found one on the way back to my apartment. I would tell her that I needed to get a new physical therapist. I'd tell her that Lisa was now so booked that I wouldn't be able to have a consistent schedule.

I was nervous as the elevator in my apartment took me to my floor. I wheeled into the apartment silently closing and locking the door behind me. I looked around listening for Lyrica as I silently glided to her door. It was cracked.

"Lyrica," I called in a voice I was sure she wouldn't have heard if she was staring straight at me. I wheeled a little closer and lifted my hand to knock just as lightly as I spoke. I didn't hear her inside. "Lyrica," I mumbled again rapping lightly. So lightly that no sound was heard, but the door opened a more few inches.

Not able to help myself I leaned forward and peaked inside the room. I was looking around the room when I saw Lyrica walk out of the bathroom.

Naked.

Chapter 11

I was frozen to the spot. If she had of looked towards her door, she would see me staring. I couldn't look away as blood filled my dick.

Lyrica was standing in the doorway of the bathroom drying her hair with a towel. My mouth dropped open as I stared at her perfect breast sitting up high. Her waist was thin and then there was her hips.

She was perfect from head to toe. I took her whole body in lingering on the little patch of hair over her vagina.

I was a second away from pulling my dick out and getting it right there like a creepy voyeur when she wrapped the towel around her hair and put on a rob before walking out the bathroom.

I ducked back a bit to catch my breath. Then I leaned forward to resume my peeping.

Lyrica was sitting on the bed with her back to me. I tried to steady my breath as I watched her put on lotion. She occasionally stopped to lean to the right, doing something out of my field of view.

It didn't take long for the mystery of what she was doing was answered. After she'd finished with her pampering, she stood up with a black and white composition notebook.

I swallowed hard knowing I needed to stop watching. I could get caught.

And then what?

But I couldn't stop looking, especially after I heard her speak.

I heard her says something I couldn't catch over and over again. I locked my chair and leaned as close as I could to the door and strained.

"Forbidden Desire," finally became clear. I lifted my eyebrow as I listened to her recite a pose that screamed out to my soul. I'd found my in. She was a poet. I sat silently listening to her pain about not being what everyone wants, but needs. That meant she was a helpless romantic at heart. I'd had a few poets and writers before; I knew the scene they liked. I'd been to my share of Poetry Slams just so I could slam. The only difference was, Lyrica wasn't as stupidly, hopelessly romantic as the other women I'd fucked.

But I knew what I had to do.

Chapter 12

Of course, I didn't let on that I heard her poem or that I knew she wrote poetry. I knew Lyrica was going to take time and every time I closed my eyes and saw her perfect naked body and smelled her sweet scent I knew it was worth it.

I told Lyrica I went to my appointment and me and my physical therapist decided it was time I get a new one. Lyrica didn't like it, but she understood. Over six months and no progress didn't sit right with her.

So, while Lyrica busied herself with the task of finding me a new physical therapist, I went to Poetry Home School 101. I grabbed my notebook and my laptop and read everything I could find on Google about poetry until I was seeing double. I ordered books from Amazon, and after a few months, I was writing my own pose.

And they were good according to the multiple chat rooms I floated them in.

Lyrica found me another physical therapist at Stanford. I was happy they were not in the same building as Lisa. I allowed Lyrica to go with me to my first consult with the doctor because she'd done so much in finding him.

"He's good," Lyrica told me reassuringly. I could tell she was trying to reassure herself more than me.

I knew Lyrica was right and her mind was at ease the moment Dr. Adams started speaking.

"There is no medical reason you shouldn't be able to walk, but that doesn't mean medicine cannot help," he said leaning back in his chair. "I don't know why this wasn't done before, but, I'm suggesting we give you a Prednisone shot to give your muscles a little more strength. I suggest we continue physical therapy twice a month. The majority of the work will be done at home to keep your muscles in use."

I nodded numbly to what he was saying, "What does that mean?"

"When will he be able to walk again?" Lyrica asked bluntly.

"I don't see why we couldn't have him standing by Christmas," Dr. Adams said after a brief pause as he studied his calendar.

That was in three months.

Chapter 13

There was a change. It was as if Lyrica was more loose, more comfortable with me. Though she still got me hard and I had a plan in motion, I kept my hormones at bay and listened.

I spent a lot more time in my room reading and writing, the times we had together were becoming less forced. We started to talk at the table. And this time she shared more. It was a two-way street.

There were laughs.

I almost forgot my mission, almost didn't want to do it. But I couldn't abandon it. I didn't have much time before I would be walking again, and I still needed to write a poem that would steal her heart. I was determined to find it before I was able to take my first step.

But I wasn't ready.

I'd gotten my steroid shot and was given exercises to do in between our sessions. Had Lyrica not been on it I would have opted out of the home exercises because I was trying to get my words together. I started feeling tingling in my leg, but I was told it was from the Prednisone.

It was the beginning of November. We'd stayed up late and watched scary movies together for Halloween. We laughed and screamed and jumped at the shit on TV.

I enjoyed myself. When I woke the next morning I was amazed at how much I enjoyed myself without sex. Yes, sure I was trying to get there, but I never had this much fun with a woman.

Wondering if all women were like that without sex, I threw my legs out of bed. I was using the nightstand to help me over into my chair when I felt a sharp ache in my legs. They buckled, and I did all I could to stop myself from falling, and that was stand up.

Chapter 14

I said nothing.

I just needed a little more time.

I was almost there.

I planned to leave the poem somewhere she could find it. And after that, I'd let the chips fall where they may. I'd tell her she promised to go out with me if I stood and then I'd stand for her.

I had it all planned out, except the last piece was my piece. After rejecting several rhymes about how she made me feel and how beautiful she was, I had an idea. I would focus on me. Poets loved talking about themselves and only loved to hear about themselves when they were the ones telling it.

So, with the help of Google, I found a poem I was able to tweak. I'd worked on the poem for more than two weeks before I felt I couldn't work on it anymore. It was time to put the plan into action.

I stopped going to physical therapy, but Lyrica didn't know. So, before she took me downstairs to my driver, I dropped the poem in the kitchen beside the island.

Chapter 15

Three hours later I was at the door with my key hovering near the hole that I started to think of what awaited me behind the door. I began to think of my motives behind it all.

Was I really just going to fuck her and then walk back to my room?

No. I enjoyed our time together. I actually liked her, her company. She was like one of the homies, and she was beautiful to boot.

More than beautiful.

She was perfection.

Deciding to let the chips fall where they may I opened the door.

"I'm back," I called. No one responded. "Hello? Lyrica? You here?"

I rolled to her door and knocked.

"Tommy?" I heard her call from the living room.

"Hey," I said rolling into my large living room. Lyrica was sitting on the chaise lounge with my poem in her hand.

"Invisible…" she read.

I swallowed, sweating bullets as she continued to read. I rolled my chair closer as she read. I'd yet to read the poem out loud, however, even if I had, I don't think it would have sounded the way it did as she read. She added a pain that made it seem like she'd written the poem.

I parked my chair a few feet away from her and stared at her beauty. I followed the curves of her high cheekbones and lingered on her petite nose. She continued to read.

She stopped and looked up at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Then I was struck by a thought.

What if she knew the original poem?

Chapter 16

"You wrote this?"

I nodded feeling it was a loaded question.

"You, I didn't know you wrote poetry," she said the words I predicted she'd say. "This is beautiful. Where did your inspiration come from?"

"Everywhere, you," I flirted, and I could see her blush. It was as if she were looking at me differently. As if I were now a different person in her eyes.

She hung on my every word and even followed me back to my room to look at some more of my poetry. Even the poems I first started writing she said she loved. I'd told her that I'd been writing poetry for the better of ten years and I hoped she didn't notice that my notebooks weren't ten years old.

We stayed up until midnight when she insisted we pick up in the morning. She even told me she wanted to share some of her work with me. I was actually excited, and when I wheeled her to my bedroom door, I was satisfied. Yes, the plan was to smash, and it still was. But I didn't see any need to put a rush on it.

"You might not be who I originally thought," she said doing something that surprised us both. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

I instantly got hard and grabbed her hand before she could pull away. She looked shocked as she looked down at her hand and I quickly let it go.

"I'm sor-"

The words didn't come out of my mouth before she was straddling me in my wheelchair. I wheeled us back for more room and returned her passionate kiss. But the moment I started to kiss her back she stopped.

She covered her mouth and jumped off of me.

"I am so sorry," she said backing out of the room.

"No!" I said. "It's okay, I want-"

"No, but we cant, I can't," she said still leaving.

"No, wait. Lyrica!" I called rolling down the hall.

"I'll see you in the morning, Tommy," she said turning away.

I managed to get to her before she closed her room door.

"Lyrica? What is it?" I asked blocking the door.

She was strong but no match for my wheelchair.

"Lyrica talk to me," I pleaded.

"About what?" she finally yelled giving up on the door.

"This, I don't do This. I can't I'm not like regular girls Tommy. I'm different," she said starting to cry. And I didn't cringe or feel like running away.

Instead, I asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not like these women you can buy or flash a pearly white smile at," she said. I didn't interrupt her because I cared about how she felt. "I'm not like these other women Tommy, I have secrets and I just can't. I already know where this is going. If we get past the fact that I'm celibate, then we have more pressing matters to discuss."

She was talking about the L-word.

Love. My kryptonite.

Chapter 17

That night I went back to my room because she asked me to. I was just about to stand up for her when she asked me to give her the night to sort out her feelings. Something I knew I needed to do myself, problem was I was scared she wouldn't be there in the morning.

I'd never ever been in love or even loved somebody other than myself. My parents died when I was young, and I was raised in expensive Year Around Boarding Schools. I started to think how this all started out and what my intentions were. The longer I lay there wondering if she will still be there when I woke up told me that I didn't want her to leave. That was the ball in my stomach that felt like a cramp.

Tossing and turning I forced myself to stay in my room until ten in the morning. I ventured out of the room, but there was no signs of Lyrica. I sat in the living room with the television on mute waiting for her to make a sound.

She walked through the front door around twelve, and my heart went through a few emotions. I was heartbroken that she left, yet overjoyed and hopeful with her return.

"Hey," she said walking into the living room.

"Hey," I said turning my chair around. "You ready to talk?"

Lyrica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The sigh that followed told me what her answer was before she did. "I'm sorry Tommy, but you are my client, and like I told you, I am celibate meaning I am not having sex until I am married. And even if playa Tommy Brush could get past that. Then there are my flaws and-"

"Then I'd marry you."

She rolled her eyes, "Sex is not why you marry someone, Tommy."

I didn't mean it like that.

"Whatever, I've already moved my things out," she said, and I could feel the ball get tight, and my chest start to hurt. "They will be sending you someone new tonight, and I told them to-"

"No, I don't want someone new."

"Tommy," Lyrica sighed. "This is not right. I can ruin the little career I have. Do you know how hard it is for women like me to be respected?"

"Then go on a date with me," I blurted out grasping at straws, anything to see her again. Before she could decline my offer I reminded her of our deal. "You said you'd go on a date with me if I walk."

"Tommy, this is not a date. I can't live like this, trapped in this place," she said, and I hadn't known how my being a hermit was affecting her.

"So if I get up out of this chair right now and ask you out on a date, not in my kitchen or living room, you'd go?"

I sat silently waiting for the answer.

Chapter 18

"I'm sorry Tommy, but, no, I choose me," she said. "I already know how this ends for me."

"Tell me you don't feel something here, I do," I admitted.

"No, its some type of weird version of Stockholm Syndrome," she said. "We were close to one another, so we projected our feelings on one another, and that's okay."

"Then go out with me," I told her. "If I get up out of this chair and walk over to you, you will go out with me. Just friends, that's all, one time. It's not like you work for me anymore."

She sucked her lips as she thought. After a few seconds she finally said, "Okay, get up and take me on a date."

I swallowed nervously. Yes, I could walk, but this was the first time I was walking with someone, because of someone. No matter how twisted the reason, she became my reason to walk again, and it was her who found Dr. Adams.

I used my arms to take my feet out of the footrests. I put my arms on the sides of my wheelchair and pushed myself up slowly.

"I made you my reason to stand," I said taking a step towards her. "Then I made taking you on a proper date my reason to walk."

I made it across the living room to her with more ease than I thought. She looked like she'd just witnessed a miracle. I reached out and grabbed her hand, "Please Lyrica. Will you do me the honor of going on a real date with me."

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up into my eyes. I bent down slowly and kissed her passionately. I grabbed her little body and pulled it closed to me. I took in her smell and tasted the inside of her mouth, devouring her.

When I released her from my pent up passion and looked down, her eyes were closed, and her lips were still puckered. I could tell I'd taken her breath because it was taking everything in my weak legs to keep us both up. When she opened her eyes, she started shaking her head.

"I'm sorry Tommy, I just can't," she said pulling away from me.

"I love you!" I called. She stopped. "Since the moment I saw you hovering over me under the water. I am a player, I don't treat women right and I damn sure don't learn Shakespeare for any ole woman. I am not asking you to date me, nor marry me or even have sex with me. I respect your celibacy and who knows what the future will hold for us. But, we at least deserve to try."

I was sure she was going to walk out. In fact, she did. But just as I felt the heavy weight of her loss my door opened again.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "Tomorrow, I'll pick you up at eight for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. Dress nice and leave your wallet because I'm paying. I'm not like these other girls, I am independent, and I know how to treat my friends."

She put extra emphasis on friends, but I didn't care. I was in there, and I could feel my stomach shaking as her perfume wafted in and out of my nose.

Chapter 19

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. I'd been pacing around my apartment so much that my legs were screaming. I'd damn near walked a line down into the apartment underneath me. I spent the entire day in my closet and on the internet looking for trends. I ordered some flowers though I wasn't sure if I should give them to her. I'd never been this nervous going on a date.

When she messaged me she was downstairs, I was dressed in my best Armani slacks and blazer. I was back. This was my first night on the town. What better way to celebrate being back, than having Lyrica on my arm?

Sure, she was only taking me to the Cheesecake Factory, but still, I wanted heads turning.

Lyrica was on her way up as I was boarding the elevator.

"Oh, hey," she smiled.

"Hey," I walked on. We were both blushing like school kids as the elevator went down.

"Thought you might need a little help," she admitted.

"Nope, I's a big boy now," I joked, and we both laughed.

"Right," she laughed as the doors to the elevators opened.

I was the first to stop laughing. Standing in the basement was Charity looking distant and vacant. She looked nothing like the woman I'd remembered. But it was definitely her. When she saw me, her eyes narrowed.

"Tommy," Charity said. "Step out of the elevator; we need to talk my love."

"Charity, what are you doing here?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Charity said. "You sent me to jail; I lost my job, my house and, let's just talk Tommy. Step off the elevator, Tommy."

"Tommy," Lyrica called. "Who is-"

"Who are you?" Charity asked looking at Lyrica as if for the first time.

"I'm Lyrica," Lyrica said before I could stop her. "His in-home care worker."

"In-home care worker?" Charity asked turning her head to the side.

I didn't see it coming. And I was sure neither did Lyrica. Charity, quick as lightning, pulled out a gun and started pulling the trigger.

Had Charity not jumped back while she was shooting and the doors hadn't closed I would have been dead.

I was on the ground, and I couldn't feel my legs all of a sudden. I knew I was shot. I looked around for the source of all the blood.

"Lyrica, help me, I'm bleeding," I called touching my legs and my face. I followed the puddle of blood under me to the source. "Lyrica please we-LYRICA!"

Chapter 20

I ran to the hospital right next to the EMTs. I would not let her go. I'd just found her. We were rushed to the operating room where I was stopped and promised that they would do everything they could to save my wife.

I'd told them that because they already knew we weren't family. And they said that only family would be able to ride in the ambulance with her. So, I lied.

I stood outside the operating room trying to listen for any news on her condition. It was four hours later, and my legs had fallen to sleep on the ground when a doctor came out in blue.

"You the, hus-band?" he asked staring me in my eyes as I nodded. "So your wife? I'm sorry she identifies as your wife correct, not your husband?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, no offense," the little red doctor said. "It's just in this day and age you have to ask. And I find it covers all bases, so I don't offend anyone when I'm dealing with members of the LGBTQ Community, if you know what I mean."

"LGBTQ Community?" I said confused.

"Yes, you and your wife. She's trans right?"

I laughed. It was all I could do not to knock this little man out.

"Trans? My wife is not a transsexual, one look under her clothes would tell you that," I said. "Now-"

"I did," he said, and I looked at him squinting. "Post-op."

"Post what?"

"Your wife is a transsexual, post-op, so that means she has all the female parts on the outside."

"No, no, no she, but, no," I said backing into a wall and sliding down. I looked to my left as someone walked out of the operating room. I turned, and through the flapping double doors, I could see Lyrica, laying peaceful holding my heart in confusion.

Not like other girls.

Chapter 21

I looked out at the audience and shielded my eyes from the spotlight with the hand holding my drink. I had Lyrica held snugly to my chest with my left hand.

There I was, a drunk fool, holding an urn.

I didn't know what I was doing up there, or how and when I got up there. I must have wondered up while I was thinking about Lyrica and her poem Forbidden Desire. I thought about just walking off the stage, but I couldn't. I might as well say my piece, for Lyrica. After all, I went as far as to bring her home to spread her ashes.

I took a deep breath, and after swallowing the rest of my courage, I decided to do it for Lyrica. I decided to talk to her and this time do it from my heart.

I sat my glass down and heard someone yell something up at me and start a clapping frenzy. I took a deep breath still holding tight to Lyrica. I closed my eyes thinking about the piece I'd written for her; the poem I had written to try and sleep with her. The audience settled down, but I kept my eyes closed. I was standing there, holding Lyrica. I smiled at her, leaned forward and explained to her why I could never fall in love again…

Love was insanity.

"This is What Love Is…"

What Love Is

By: Jasheem Wilson

Imagine you're floating peacefully to heaven

Imagine the sweetest smell you've ever taken in

Imagine the angels singing you to sleep

Imagine God's kiss on your cheek

Imagine being happy and feeling safe

Then imagine falling from God's Grace

Imagine falling so fast you can't breathe

Imagine not being able to smile or see

Imagine never laughing or being happy again

Imagine losing your best friend

Imagine the worse way of dying

Then imagine you're floating, flying

In a false sense of security and peace of mind

just to fall again another time.

If you can imagine or remember this

then you know what love is.

I kept my eyes closed. I could see her, right in front of me; smiling. I swallowed ready to reach out and touch her.

That was when I heard the thunderous applause and my eyes snapped open.

Just like that. She was gone.

As the audience cheered and applauded I bent over and picked up my glass. With a heavy sigh, I lifted my glass to the bright lights burning my eyes and making me dizzy. It was as if the audience thought I was toasting them and grew louder.

I threw the last of my drink back, bent over and sat the glass back down on the stage. I walked off the stage to loud whistling and applause that followed me all the way back to the bar.

I sat Lyrica down onto the bar before I lost my balance and fell back onto my stool. By the time I righted myself the chatty bartender with the shiny dress was back.

“You know honey,” she said putting a glass on the bar and filling it up. “I told myself if you came back over here trying to drink I was gonna cut you off.” She tucked the bottle under the counter and slid the glass over to me. “But after that performance,” she paused and I looked up. I squinted at her shiny face but it was a wrap. The more I tried to focus the more dizzy I got. Grabbing a napkin off the bar she dabbed at her face, “I felt your soul. This one’s on the house.”

I don’t know how long she was staring at me before I grabbed my drink. I don’t even remember when she left. I took a long sip and welcomed the burn.

I’d brought her home to Detroit. Now, all I had to do was leave her.

Before You Walk Out of My Life

A'sha

"While all the time that I was loving you, you were busy loving yourself," Mary J.'s rich voice filled the room. "I would stop breathing if you told me to, now you're busy loving someone else…"

I sat at my vanity cross-legged in a sheer robe and panty set. I was forty years old, 5'8 130 pounds and looked every bit like a thick Asian in her mid-twenties. Though I was a product of a black father and a Chinese Exchange Student mother, the only thing black on me was my hair. Something every black woman who saw me with Jermaine made me all too aware of over the years.

They all looked at me like I was an outsider; like I stole one of their men. I knew the looks they gave me and what they meant. I knew because I gave the same looks to the white girls I saw hanging off one of our brother's arms.

I stared at my reflection as I lotioned my arms and legs getting ready. I was a few hours away from sitting across from the love of my life to listen to just how much he didn't love me. After twenty-five years my husband of twenty is now ready to divorce me.

All because of one horrible mistake I made; because I was vulnerable. Just one mistake.

Lotioning my neck, I stared at the reflection of the six-carat diamond next to my wedding band.

It started as a simple single carat engagement ring twenty years ago. Jermaine had proposed to me while he was in jail and I accepted. It was upgraded for the first time after he got out; thanks to the THOT Shontal. We were going through a rough patch. He wasn't able to get a job and was feeling insecure; vulnerable. He met Shontal and well, I found out about it real quick. He told me that he'd made a mistake and I believed him and then married him.

I got my third carat after my first miscarriage trying to give my husband a child, and another soon after when I found out Shontal was pregnant. The fifth carat came after another failed pregnancy. The sixth carat I thought was given to me when I finally managed to give him a baby girl. But now I realized it was just a downpayment on all the time and attention he was going to be giving to his work and trying to keep us living nice. It was a downpayment on the nights I would spend alone while he tried to get the stupid firm-he created after I helped him through school-up and running.

So yes, just like Vanessa Laine Bryant, I accepted each upgrade my ring got. You see, it wasn't about the ring, as a matter of fact, I could do without it. I resented it actually. The weight of his mistakes and my hurt as a constant reminder wrapped in beauty around my finger.

Just like me, pain wrapped in beauty around Jermaine's finger. I was genuinely, madly, passionately in love with him. But, after twenty-five years, I knew love wasn't just mushy feelings and pain.

No, love was a business, a partnership. Love was a lifestyle. One that I wasn't ready to let go of.

Chapter 2

A'sha

A few weeks ago...

Why did doing the wrong thing feel so good? Despite my looks, I wasn't an innocent little housewife. No. I was everything but. Everyone thought I was living the dream. They would never understand that I felt trapped in a gilded fucking prison.

Sitting on the desk in my home library, I undid the tie to my wrap dress and allowed the gossamer-like fabric to fall from my shoulders. Fully exposed, I trailed a black and gold acrylic nail between my lace covered breasts and down to my panties. I pulled the damp red fabric to the side and shivered as the cool air caressed my folds.

"You're beautiful, A'sha."

The words caused me to shiver. They were the balm to my bruised soul. How did a woman who looked like me and lived the life I had, end up like this? Well, the short answer was loving a man that apologized with material things but never corrected his behavior.

I held Jermaine down while he was in jail, put him through school, helped him start his business, and helped him achieve every goal he had. What did I get in return? Cheated out with a porn star lookalike. A stepson that he just dropped on me like I was supposed to be okay with it. And endless lonely nights while he was "working." Yeah, I got the money, jewels, cars, and the big ass house. I also got the major insecurities to go along with that.

So, baring my toned body in front of this man that reminded me of my husband when he was still crazy in love with me helped ease the vulnerability. Hearing the words from his mouth that my husband barely uttered anymore made me feel like I wasn't lacking.

My lover's hands reached for me and I arched into his touch. My body burned as he deftly unhooked my bra while his lips and tongue trailed up my neck to my ear.

"I've wanted you for so long, baby girl."

Baby girl. The nickname my husband used to call me. Terms of endearment were only showered upon me on my birthday and our anniversary.

If Jermaine actually remembered.

My lips crashed into his, cutting off any other words he thought about speaking. I didn't need the conversation. It was bringing up too many memories of what used to be. Right now, I wanted to forget. I wanted to feel needed, loved, and desired. I needed to lose myself in this man who was eerily similar to my husband and yet so different. So damn different.

Thick fingertips peeled my panties off. The brush of denim against my inner thighs sent sparks straight to my pussy. My eager hands slipped underneath his shirt and I groaned into his lips as hot flesh scorched my fingertips.

The jingle of his belt made my pussy weep in anticipation and arousal sing in my veins. He tore his lips from mine and captured a nipple in his hot mouth. I moaned at the sensation and then shrieked as ten inches of pure steel invaded my body. It felt like too much and not enough all at the same time.

My nails scratched at his back while his dug into my hips. "Damn, A'sha," my lover groaned. "I knew you'd feel so damn good."

I could only moan in reply. Words were stuck in my throat and my mind whirled. My clit rubbed against his pelvis with each thrust. I was so fucking close.

He pulled out of me and I cried in protest. "Please," I begged, all semblance of shame long gone.

Flipping me over, my breasts crashed onto the cool wood. I grabbed on to the edge and shook my thick ass in invitation. He laughed before slapping me soundly. "Don't worry, baby girl," he rasped while slamming back into me. "Imma give you what you need. Oh yeah. Imma give you everything your man couldn't."

I spread my legs, arched my back, and threw that ass back at his young ass. If he was going to talk shit, then he better be able to back it up. "Hurry," I moaned.

I closed my eyes tightly as his finger found my clit and circled it quickly. Yep. I was just about to cum.

"A'sha!"

My head jerked up as I heard my name being yelled by my husband throughout the house. "Hurry," I hissed at my lover.

My husband shouts grew louder as I tumbled off the cliff with my lover right behind me. There was no time to relax in post-climatic bliss. Scrambling, my lover and I threw on our clothes. I fixed my hair and sprayed some air freshener. I had just sat down in an armchair on the other side of the room when Jermaine busted into the large library.

"A'sha, you didn't hear me yelling for you?"

I looked up from the book that I had in my hands and glanced at my husband. "I'm sorry, honey. I was reading. I wasn't paying attention." Jermaine looked at the other occupant in the room and I shifted in my seat. "Is there anything you needed?" I asked sweetly.

"Nah," he said absently. "Hey J.J."

My lover smiled smoothly at my husband and leaned back in his chair. "Hey dad," he said before slipping the same finger that circled my clit into his mouth.

My pussy clenched with desire and I felt my already wet panties become soaked. Why did doing the wrong thing feel so good?

Chapter 3

Jermaine

I watched as A'sha showed up looking just as fine as the day I met her. It wasn't easy and I knew it wasn't cheap to stave off time and gravity, but she did it. She hid her green eyes behind large black sunglasses and I knew why. She couldn't bare to look at me after what she'd done, not to mention her lawyer trying to take everything. I wouldn't be able to face her if after I messed up and then had the nerve to try and take everything she worked for.

It wasn't like I was leaving her with nothing. Twenty-five years meant something to me and she was the mother of my little girl. I would always provide for mine; I just couldn't be with her anymore.

Though she looked the same, she was not the same person she was twenty-five years ago. We were not the same people we were twenty-five years ago. We'd been growing apart for years and her sleeping with my son was more than enough encouragement to finally tell her I wanted a divorce.

"Is this really what you want?" I heard A'sha say in the silent shuffle of our lawyers' paperwork. "You really just want to throw twenty-five years away. After all that we've been through, that I've been through. I was there when you were in jail, I was there when you cheated on me and had a child and I was the one up late at night double checking your work and writing your business proposals. I am the reason you were able to be so successful at your firm and I am the reason you were comfortable enough to leave with some of their employees and more than a few of their high profiled clients."

"You are also the woman who had an affair with my 18 year old son," I told her feeling a host of emotions I didn't expect to feel. Loss, despair. I loved A'sha; I just wasn't in love with her anymore.

A'sha opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off, "I know, I know it was my fault. I'd abandoned you in a big house with a Nanny and a Maid to raise our daughter on your own. You were feeling insecure and unloved and he reminded you of me. Regardless."

I took a deep breath.

"Even if I could forgive you for sleeping with my son," I explained staring at my own reflection in her dark lenses. "It's been over. We've been growing apart and I love you, I really do but I am no longer in love with you. And all you're doing now, it's making it harder to see the love I still hold for you."

"Love may build relationships but it's not what keeps them going. It stopped keeping us going a long time ago," A'sha snapped. "Love is a business agreement that becomes more difficult to exit the longer you're together. Yes, love kept me by your side when you were in jail but all the other bullshit was just me protecting my investment. An investment that I am giving you the opportunity to keep your stake in. But I will not lose my love, even if you must step out."

"And I must," I sighed. "I don't love you anymore. A'sha, I don't want to be with you anymore."

The room was silent. I felt horrible about how harsh I sounded, but I had to end it. She needed to let me go.

"Now, if you love me or ever did, then you would let me go," I said trying to soften it up. I saw a tear fall from the sunglasses down her face. Stumbling for words I thought about the settlement. "The settlement is more than fair; you get the-"

"Keep it! I don't want anything with your name attached to it, not even your money. I'll keep what's mine; you take what's yours. Just like in a prenup."

Before I could respond or get more of an explanation, A'sha wiped her tear, stood up, grabbed her purse and left.

Chapter 4

Jermaine

I took a week off from the world to both celebrate and mourn my failed love. I guess because it was a long time coming that there was less mourning than I expected. Yeah, I felt sad every time I thought about A'sha but, I was also relieved. It was that relief which usually made me feel the worse.

I owed everything to A'sha, but I also owed something to myself.

I rolled over to look at the sleeping beauty next to me. Karen's dark hair covered her equally dark face as she slept with silent snores. I guess she was also part of the reason I did less mourning than I that.

Karen was the head of Marketing at Nike and one of the many high profile clients I took with me when I left Mega Marketing.

Feeling the need to forget about A'sha, I snuggled up close to her when we both jumped.

"DAD! DAD!" my son J.J. was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"It's okay, go back to sleep," I whispered patting Karen back down to sleep.

Jumping out the bed I pulled on a pair of boxers and rushed out of the room. My heart was pounding as I ran down the stairs to my son's screaming voice. He was standing at the open front door.

"Why are you screaming-" I stopped as I rounded the door and saw the Sheriff standing there.

J.J. handed me a piece of paper. Before I could read past the words "EVICTION" on the top, my attention was drawn to my driveway. There was a towman walking around my car.

"What the fuck! Aye!" I yelled as my heart dropped. Before I could get to my car, I had to get past the officer at my door. "What is this?" I asked the officer trying to get my thoughts together.

"It's an Eviction Notice from the property owner," the tan Sheriff said.

"I am the owner," I tried to laugh the mistake off as the towman backed up to my car. "I mean, my company does. The company I own, owns this property. Jamaine Hamilton Marketing. I'm Jermaine."

The officer took a moment before responding, "Okay, well, I guess you can clear that up down at the County Courthouse. Just bring your title and they should clear it up."

This wasn't my first eviction; I knew that was about all he could tell me. Besides, I needed to get to my car. As soon as the officer moved I was through the door, marching across the grass in my boxers.

"Aye, bruh!" I yelled.

The large hairy Mexican guy stopped working on my car.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked ignoring the officer who leaned against his patrol car to watch.

"I was sent to pick up this car," he explained handing me a brochure. He gave me enough time to read the Asset Recovery Management ontop the brochure before he spoke again. "I don't know; maybe you forgot to pay your-"

"Pay? I own the car!" I yelled louder than I intended.

"Let me see," he said grabbing a clipboard from inside the truck. Scratching his beard and looking down he said, "Looks like the car is owned by Jermaine Hamilton Marketing."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm Jermaine Hamilton. I, am, Jermaine Hamilton Marketing."

The man glanced at the officer now standing four feet away as if he were going to tell him what to do next. He glanced down at his clipboard, "The only thing I can do is call my supervisor and see if I can wait while you call Asset Recovery Management. See if you can get this cleared up."

I was hot. Straight heated. There was only one thing keeping me from going bad in that white neighborhood, with the white people now watching. The fact that this was all one big mistake.

Chapter 5

Jermaine

A simple mistake with an increasingly complicated solution.

I spent the entire Uber ride to my offices in San Francisco on the phone with Asset Recovery Management. As my car was towed away, I was assured that I would be able to pick it up from their storage facility in Daly City. I walked into the high rise which housed my office buildings getting the fax information so that I could send my proof of ownership. The small old black lady behind the security desk waved at me. Ending my call with Asset Recovery Management I gave her a wink before disappearing behind a wall.

I jumped on the elevator with a man in a construction suit. He pressed the tenth floor; the floor which housed my officers. I didn't think anything of it as I called my attorney again.

"Steve, this is Jermaine again and I don't, know..." my words trailed off as the construction worker got off on my floor.

I stepped out of the elevator slowly as I lowered the phone from my ear and hung up. There was another construction worker behind the receptionist's desk taking down the raised letters on the back wall.

"Hey!" I called as he pulled down the last letter of my first name.

"Mr. Hamilton," Marcy, the receptionist asked appearing out of nowhere.

I sighed when I saw her, relieved at her familiar face.

"What's going o-"

"You're the first to arrive for the meeting," Marcy said as we slowly started walking down the hall on the left towards my office. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it since you took the week off."

"Meeting? What meeting?" I stopped walking to look at her. I didn't know anything about a meeting.

"The Emergency Board Meeting," she said slowly. "At nine."

"Nine? I didn't know about no Board Meeting, who called it?" I asked as a construction worker excused himself and walked passed us. "Nevermind, just stop these people from destroying my offices while I figure out what the hell is going on."

I walked after the construction worker going towards my office. My head was spinning; I was getting more and more stressed out the box. A man with paint supplies passed me and it was becoming more and more challenging to keep my cool. I needed to get to my office and close the world away just like A'sha taught me.

I couldn't help but think of her. The one thing she has always been was my quiet in a storm. She was always calm and level headed. She always knew what to say and what to do. I knew she would know what was going on in a matter of seconds and have it fixed just as quick. She was always there, even after hours.

It was the thought of A'sha which stopped me from going off on the man scraping my name off my office door. Instead, I took a deep breath and put a hand on his shoulder, "How about you take a break while I go in my office."

He looked at me through his tight Asian eyes, shrugged and walked off. Taking a deep breath, I opened my office door welcoming the-

"A'sha?"

A'sha was sitting in my once brown, now a steal grey office, behind my desk talking on the phone. Leaning back in my large leather chair she put up a sharp black nail silencing me. I closed my door a little relieved to see her.

"I'd be honored to come," she said writing something down. My relief was becoming short lived as I closed the door and she thanked whoever was on the phone and hung up.

"Jermaine, have a seat," she said waving me towards the front of my desk.

"A'sha?" I said again standing behind one of the chairs in front of my desk. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

"Running my company," she responded sitting back in my chair and crossing her arms.

Chapter 6

A'sha

It didn't take Jermaine long to put it all together. I could see the little wheels turning in his head. I was actually surprised he hadn't figured it out sooner. He was a smart man, that was indisputable.

The thing was I was smarter.

It took a smart woman to control a man. Whether it's a mother, daughter, sister or wife, behind every powerful; successful man has been and will always be a woman. It just sometimes took men a little bit longer to realize it.

"Have a seat," I instructed knowing he would need one.

I was just about to bring his whole world crumbling down, like he tried to do me. I loved him and I didn't want to see him hurt, but sometimes we have to discipline our men.

With each step closer I could see the anger creeping through his body making him tense. Oh, I knew him so well. Shaking his head, he started to massage the bridge of his nose. Something he did when he was trying to keep his cool and think.

"A'sha, this is not your company. I know you put in a lot of work to help me but, this is my company," he explained as if talking to a child. "What is this? What's your endgame here? My house, my car, it'll only take a phone call to clear that up. This-"

"And how's that going for you?" I smiled knowingly.

I thought it was cute when men tried to take charge and be dominant. Especially when they thought they were in charge. I decided to let his ego stretch its wings before I clipped them. Besides, it was turning me on.

"You're crazy," he said laughing condescendingly.

"I don't disagree," I said keeping an amused smile on my face. He still hadn't sat down.

"You do understand that once I show up at this secret Emergency Board Meeting and let them know what's going on, this sloppy little, take-over if you can call it that, is over. "

"I disagree."

"You do understand that all it would take is one phone call to Security and you'd be thrown out on your ass? Now-"

"I'd like to see you do that," I said trying to push all his buttons.

"Don't push me A'sha," he snapped.

"Now things are getting interesting," I laughed, lifting an eyebrow and crossing my arms. "Did you want to use my phone?"

I smiled as we stared at one another waiting for the other to move. The anger in his eyes told me that he wasn't scared, which meant he had no idea I had him by the balls. All it took was the raise of my eyebrow for him to know I was calling his bluff. He snatched the phone knocking it off its cradle. I giggled as he scooped the phone up and dialed a few numbers.

"Yes Angie," he said staring me in my eyes. "This is Jermaine Hamilton, Jermaine Hamilton Marketing 10th floor. I need help removing a nuisance." I smiled at the sound of him referring to me as a nuisance. "Thank you."

And he hung the phone up.

Chapter 7

A'sha

"Now, that you're done with your temper tantrum, have a seat," I instructed once more as we waited in silence.

"A'sha-"

"Or stand," I shrugged. It was time to stop beating around the bush, after all, security was on the way. "It'll be easier for Security to remove you."

"Why?" Jermaine screamed startling me. "Why A'sha?"

"Because you seem to have forgotten where you've come from; you forgot who was there for you while you were in jail for dealing drugs," I explained. "Because you forgot about respect. I made you." I gave him a little smirk. "You need to learn that I can break you too."

"Oh A'sha," he laughed finally taking a seat. "I was upfront. They know who I am and all about my drug charges twenty years ago. I hope you have more than that to try and convince the board to fire me."

"Oh, I don't need the board's approval to fire you, nor do I need to snitch," I told him pouting out my lips.

He looked so cute when he was wrong and thought he was right. I enjoyed his smile and laughter for a moment longer before I took it. I hated what I was about to do but a woman had to do what a woman had to do.

"You remember those drug charges which stopped you from applying for the business loan you needed to start this place?" I asked.

"Yes and if it's about the money I will just cut you a check and buy your loan out," he said sitting back in the chair and unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Problem solved."

"Except it's not," I winked. "You forget darling. That wasn't the only thing you couldn't get without my name."

I sat back and let my words sit for a minute. As realization brought his face down, I opened the top desk drawer and pulled out three stacks of papers. I dropped the first of the three down on the desk with a thud.

"I was your wife," I explained to him as he looked at the Article of Incorporation for Jermaine Hamilton Marketing with my name on the top. The next was the actual business license I took out of his office safe along with the application. "Yes, you signed these, all of them. Thing is, we were married, you signed them because I allowed you to. As you see, my name is the applicant."

The intercom came to life and Marcy said, "I have Security here."

His eyes went from the desk to me and finally, he looked scared.

"Send them in," I smiled sitting back in the chair and taking a deep breath. "Too bad California makes it almost impossible for a felon to get rehabilitated."

His head dropped when he realized that on paper, I owned Jermaine Hamilton Marketing. He was only able to sign everything as a technicality, one he was happy to exploit when he couldn't get a business license or anyone to lease him office space.

The door opened and two burly white security guards walked in trying to figure the situation out. Jermaine didn't turn around; he was defeated. I smiled up at them and put up a finger. The two men nodded and stepped back out the door to give us privacy.

"So, I bought a club," I said changing the subject as I reached into a side drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. "Called Odyssey, it's in Chicago," I said taking my ring off and putting it inside the envelope. "I'll be there Valentine's day you know, checking on my investment."

I slid the envelope across the desk to him and for the first time since he got the full picture he looked up at me. He looked down at the envelope and then back up at me.

"You bitch, I'll never love you ag-"

"Oh baby," I laughed loudly. "What's love got to do with it?"

Chapter 8

A'sha

It had been a month since I had Jermaine escorted out of his own offices. But as I sat in my booth, in a dark corner of Odyssey drinking, alone, I wondered if I'd gone too far.

Was I wrong? Would he really leave it all because of love? Did he love that bitch Karen he was shacking up with? Would he give it all up for her?

I nursed my drink as I watched the poets spilling their hearts. With each performance and ticking hour I knew the answer to my questions. I glanced down at my empty ring finger as another performer came to the stage. I wouldn't have thought twice about it but the man had an urn. As creepy as the urn was, I couldn't help but think it was also sweet. Sad, but sweet. The pain on his face told me all I needed to know before he spoke.

And when he spoke...

He hit what love was right on the head. Love just was. It was a rollercoaster. I poured myself another glass of vodka as the room began clapping for urn guy. I glanced down at my Michael Kors watch for the time. It was almost eleven thirty, I'd been here for an hour and Jermaine was nowhere to be seen.

I drained my glass. For the first time in this whole process I felt I didn't have control. I just knew that once he realized that everything was in my name, he would come back. I thought that he would understand his mistake and not throw away twenty-five years.

But the more I sat there drinking; something told me I was wrong.

I poured myself another glass thinking I should have taken up that Tiffany girl on her Love Potion stuff. It was worth a try.

But he wasn't coming; he said he didn't love me. He told me love had everything to do with it. I planned to get it back. After twenty-five years you don't need just love.

I'd tossed back another glass when I heard a familiar voice. I started looking around until my eyes fell on the stage.

"I've never done this before," Jermaine said holding flowers in one hand and adjusting the microphone in the other.

He was looking so sexy in the grey suit and red tie he was wearing. It matched my red evening gown perfectly.

I smiled as the crowd clapped encouragement.

"I wrote this a few minutes ago, it's dedicated to my wife," he said to more applause.

He looked out and pointed towards me with the flowers. I couldn't help but smile. I never expected him to get up and perform a piece.

I just knew we could get us back. This was validation.

I heard someone yell, "Get on with it," and there was more clapping.

"Okay," he laughed and so did I. "Thin Line."

Thin Line

by: Jasheem Wilson

She swore to me,

that we were friends.

She swore no matter what,

she would be there in the end.

But she lied to me and that's not fair

she wasn't my best friend but my worst nightmare.

The line between foe and friend,

has never been drawn so thin.

Until you're in,

the relationship I'm in.

She swore to me,

that we were in love.

She swore that,

I was all she thought of.

But she lied to me,

left me alone

and with someone else

she made home.

The line between love and hate

has never been drawn so thin

Unless you're in,

The relationship I'm in.

Jermaine jumped off the front of the stage and made his way to my table with scattered applause and wandering eyes.

"Happy Valentine's Day baby," Jermaine said with a smirk on his face.

I took a shot as he threw the flowers on the table. Digging in his pocket, he took out a ring box and tossed it on the table and took a seat.

Before he could get comfortable, I was getting up and straightening out my dress. He stood and waited for me to stand and get my balance.

"There," I said wiggling my finger and smiling. "Now you can present it to me."

This time it was my turn to smirk. He knew he was supposed to behave. Biting his lip, Jermaine grabbed the flowers and ring box. Just like a kid with a temper he took a deep, steadying breath and sighed. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and got down on his knee, then popped back up as if thinking twice.

I lifted my eyebrow as he reached for my glass and poured him some vodka. He tossed it back with ease, made a face and got back down on his knee.

After another dramatic sigh, he opened the box revealing my new seven-carat ring.

Good boy, I thought with a smile as he took the ring out of the box and grabbed my finger.

I knew he said he didn't love me. But as I looked down at my new ring on my finger I thought to myself.

What's love got to do with it?

>End of Sample<