Musings in the Dark

3/17/2011

Rage, the Flexible Bullet


I’ve had the fortune (or misfortune; depending on the way you swing) to know some people who are so twisted with anger that they are barely visible to the rest of the world.  The genesis of the rage finds its way constantly into conversations; while the details are a bit sketchy, I’m able to grasp how and why these people became so mad.

I know what true rage means.
Anger in small doses is excellent; it clears your mind, focuses your thoughts and is a wonderful motivator.  But just like a car engine that has to cool after being driven, anger must be allowed to dissipate.  It will naturally if left to its own devices.  It takes work to stay mad.  You have to constantly remind yourself of the people that did you wrong or the situations that you were deliberately or inadvertently put in that caused the break.  You’re always revving the car and making it run hot.  What ends up happening is that you eventually burn out the engine.  The brain and the mind are no different.  For people who are constantly, consistently mad, I imagine that they wake up thinking about ways to assign blame to others just to keep the emotions high.  They may even put themselves into situations so that their pain isn’t allowed to end.

I love astronomy, so forgive the metaphors.  But they’re relevant. The energy an angry person uses is equivalent to fusion in the core of a supergiant star.  It burns and burns until the star goes supernova, and then there is nothing left but a tiny black cinder.  This is equal, IMHO, to the soul or the heart of a person who has stayed mad for years and never allowed the hate to die.  They’ve allowed the rage to consume them and it spews forth in vituperative rants that are caused by the slightest perceived insult.  They go off at the drop of a hat and lose their focus of the initial conversation; what typically results is some bastardized version of what went wrong in their lives.

Most people don’t want to be around this.  Everyone hurts or has been hurt in some form or fashion; some deeper and more extensive than others.  I am in no way disregarding their pain or making light of their situation.  I’m speaking of people who don’t know any other way to be but upset.  A person can’t go on forever manufacturing ways to perpetuate their rage.  It will consume them, burn them out and make them a shell of their former selves.  It isolates them because no one wants to be around a person who is pissed off every minute of every day.  It’s futile because the kind of stress that prolonged anger puts on a person can make her/him physically and mentally ill.  Regardless as to what someone thinks is owed to them, the fact of the matter is that the situation may never get resolved to her/his liking.  And the truth is that s/he may never know about it.

Stephen King once described madness as a flexible bullet.  The projectile is fired into the world to hurt others, but it eventually rebounds and kills the person who shot it off in the first place.  The same can be said of prolonged rage.  Individuals who are always angry throw darts—verbal and physical, metaphorically speaking—to hurt those around them, but they eventually are destroyed by the emotional barbs they shoot off.   Some think a change of scenery (or, gasp! a man) will make everything better, but no matter where you go, there you are.  

To a person who is so consumed by rage, please get some help.  Seek out counseling and work those issues out with someone who can be objective about your situation.  A lot of people want to belittle the mental health profession and discount the fact that there are millions and millions of people who truly need psychological help.  If you are so warped by past hurts that you can barely see life passing you by, call your insurance provider and get them to refer you to an in-network therapist.  Get some help and get yourself together.  The people who love you will put up with you, but only for so long, and only until the bullets you fire hurt or kill them.

If you think I have absolutely no idea of what I’m talking about and I’m just regurgitating some bullshit I read from somewhere else or heard from another person, then you could not be more wrong.  Game recognizes game, or in this case, takes one to know one.  

3/14/2011

Book Review: As You Wish

As You Wish is a delightful romantic tale about a male Djinn and a female artist.  I haven't read many stories (especially lately) that feature a genie as a protagonist, and Nichelle Gregory's Vander is an absolute delight.  He's sardonic, sexy and fine as hell; the combination of which can make a woman's panties wet.  That pretty much sold me.  3/5 stars.

Read more:  Goodreads        BookBlogs

3/12/2011

Into the Void

Any author can tell you that there are times when the muse is awake, the story flows like water.  And then there are times when writer’s block is so severe that s/he believes the dam will never break.  Being an author, of course, I have those same issues.  What I’ve learned during reflective periods is that when my muse is leading me, I am in a place where I’m more alive than at any other time in my life. I’m somewhere I always want to be; yet I cannot visit very often due to the understated danger of that wonderful strange place.  I suppose that is the point, because when I’m there, I’m completely there.  I call it the void.
 
Let me try to explain.

When I look back over my previous works, be they fanfiction or novels (and I could argue that there is a significant overlap), I’m always stunned at the layering, complexity and continuity of what I’m reading.  I read and go, “I wrote this?  Where in the hell did this come from?”  I’m not trying to blow my own horn or put my questionable talent on blast, because I certainly do not have the bank account to show for it.  What I’m trying to say is that when I’m in the void, I’m able to produce work that, by my normal standards, is impossible to replicate.  And not from lack of trying.

I can say this: when I’m in the void, it is just that.  It’s a dark place, a black place, a silent place, a raw nerve ending where my emotions are volatile and precarious.  There is no noise and there is no light; just the rapid reel of my thoughts, my pulse and my breathing.  I’m usually on the verge of tears, or they are streaming down my face.  Standard functioning is at a minimum: I don’t sleep, I barely eat, and I do not remember how I get through my days.  Nothing else is important.  Everything falls by the wayside.  All that matters is being in the void and telling the story that’s in me at that time.  It’s a metaphorical bloodletting; so much has built up that I have to bleed out or die from the overload. And sometimes I bleed for weeks.  Even months.

When I’m in the void, my muse is light-years ahead of me.  I’m not aware of very much beyond the frenetic movement of my hands.  I’m not in control; she is.  She’s like a wild mustang, a wayward missile, a rogue comet, and it is all I can do to hold on to her.  She pulls philosophy, thoughts and dreams from the dark undercurrents of my subconscious, combines them with one or two random unrelated and uncorrelated concepts and turns this miasma into a novel.  Pain is usually the other result; I guess that is where the tears come from.  But I feel better afterwards.

You may ask, “If I feel better afterwards, then why is the void dangerous?”

I’ll have to answer that in a later post.

Book Review: Women of Darkness II

The second Women of Darkness is not as good as the first, in my humble opinion.  While the theme of Volume II was more prevalent than Volume I, it was not as balanced.  More than half of the stories didn't register on my interest meter, but there were a few standouts.  I rate Women of Darkness II 2/5 stars.


Favorite Story?  "I Know What To Do" by Yvonne Navarro.


Read more:  Book Blogs       Goodreads

Up Next:  As You Wish by Nichelle Gregory, Dirty Little Secrets by Shiree McCarver, Folklore and Other Stories, and Purple Jars of Rice by Ankhesen Mie.

3/02/2011

Book Review: Women of Darkness

So I've reviewed my first book on Goodreads and BookBlogs: Women of Darkness.  I gave Women of Darkness 3/5 stars.  It's worth a read, but not something you need to hurry up and get.  I found it on Amazon for $.35, and I can say it was worth way more than that, based on the concept alone.  I really enjoyed at least six of the 20 stories, and liked at least half of them.  Take a look:  Goodreads          BookBlogs

Favorite Story? "Cannibal Cats Come Out Tonight" by Nancy Holden.


Next on my list of books to review:  As You Wish by Nichelle Gregory, and Women of Darkness II, also edited by Kathryn Ptacek.

TELA Smutty Outtake, part deux...

Previous chapters...


He didn’t even need to ask.  Kit helped me get up and I got Jelani to his room and put him to bed.  Kit handed me a damp cloth to wipe his cheeks and forehead.  I tucked him in and turned on his mobile and the bed camera.  Then I walked out and quietly closed the door.  Kit followed me back to my bedroom, putting his hands on my waist.  As soon as the door was closed, he had me up against the wall and we were kissing passionately.  I throbbed all over, and from the feel of him, he did too.
We made it to the bed, where he tore off my panties and I pulled off his shorts.  To have him naked and on top of me was unspeakably fantastic.  We kissed fervently; our hands in each other’s hair, our bodies pressed together in a scintillating vortex of heat.  I always knew from the moment where we put our feelings for each other out there that our coming together would be explosive.  It took a month, but the shock wave from our union would spread forth like that of a volcanic blast, and would have the same ripple effects.
He broke the kiss and looked at me.  I was so wet; it was like I was drowning in my own juices.  Kit stared at me; his eyes were dark and as shiny as a moonlit midnight, and he pressed his lips to my ear and said, “You’re marinating.  You’re so wet for me.  I can’t tell you what a turn on that is, what it does to me.”  He reached down and slid the back of his fingers against my lips, brushing against my swollen clit.  I nearly shrieked in response before grabbing the back of his head and kissing him.
“Kit,” I breathed.  “I don’t know how long I can hold out…I want you in so many ways; I don’t even know where to begin…kissing you, stroking you…where to start?”
“Zuri,” he said, kissing my neck while angling my hips, “Calm down.  Just let me pleasure you.  Come if you want to come, but don’t hold back.  Let me know when I make you feel good.”  He pulled my arms up and pinned my wrists to the bed.  Then he bent down and took one of my tender breasts in his mouth, running his tongue around and the nipple in slow delirious circles before affixing his magnificent lips around it before sucking.  It was like there was a direct line between my tit and my girlfriend; the moment he started nipple play, she started gushing.  He released my hands and pushed my breasts together and buried his face in my cleavage. 
“Zuri,” he moaned.  It sounded like he was beside himself.  It certainly felt like he was.  He started sucking the other nipple while tugging on the first.  Incoherent sounds escaped my lips as I felt myself go.  I couldn’t help it; it has been a damn long time since I’d been touched like thiscome to think of it, I’d never been touched like this.  I groaned and cradled his head as he exhaled his pleasure.  Kit bit my nipples and I gasped; the sultry mix of pleasure and pain made me gush again.  “Oh!” I cried.  “Oh, Kit, ohhhhhhhhhh!”  I locked my legs around his hips and could not stop myself from climaxing.  Number one.
“Mmmn,” he groaned, making his way across my cleavage to savor my other nipple.  I arched so that my breasts buried his face and he could access freely.  He let the other nipple go with a muffled ‘pop!’  “Mmmn,” he said again, “Zuri, so good…”
He pressed a hot kiss in my cleavage and licked his way down and over my navel, swirling his tongue in the dip.  Then he looked up at me; that smile creased his face and made my heart soar.  “Come down to the end of the bed so that I can get on my knees.”
I didn’t need any help, but Kit helped me scoot down to the end of the bed anyway.  Kit got down on his knees before me and dropped sweet, painful kisses on my thighs as he unrolled my stockings.  He spread my legs and looked up at me, working his way close to kiss my chest and my belly.  He moved with elaborate slowness as his soft hair and softer lips slid across my skin; the two sensations were mind-blowing. 
“Jesus, Kit…” I was about to climax once more.  Apparently, he sensed it, for he dipped his head and smelled me.
“Don’t do it,” he warned, pressing veed fingers against me.  “Wait another minute or so.  Wait for me, Zuri.”
“I’ll try,” I said, bracing myself against the bed.
He chuckled and dropped a kiss on my belly.  “We’re going to take our time, make this last for as long as the baby is asleep.”  Kit maneuvered my hips until my pelvis tilted and he slid his arms underneath my hips and over my torso me so that he could fondle my breasts.  He tossed my legs over his shoulders and it was all I could do to keep from squealing.  I gripped the bedcovers as sweat popped out on my forehead; I was breathing like a steam engine and flowing like a rapid mountain stream.  I couldn’t move my hips or my legs; Kit’s obvious pleasure at giving me head was more than enough to send me over the edge.  I couldn’t stop the torrent that was my impending orgasm.
“Kit,” I moaned, “Kit, move your head…I’m going to come.  Please, I don’t want to—”
“So come,” he ordered.
In his voice, I heard the command of a senior FBI agent; someone a criminal wouldn’t want to fuck with, and it drove me crazy.  I tried to hold back; I tried to keep from drenching his face, because for sure I was going to squirt this time.  He wouldn’t let me go.  He felt me tense up and paused long enough to say, “Don’t be embarrassed to climax, Zuri.  That’s what I want you to do, what I want to make you do.”
“I don’t want to come all over your face…!” I moaned.
I want you to come all over my face,” he said.  “I want that.  So give me what I want.”
Then he buried his face between my thighs and slipped his tongue inside me, wiggled it, and that did it.  I exploded.  My toes curled and uncurled, matching the grip of my hands and Kit’s name left me on a long, low moan as I climaxed once more.  Number two.
          I fell back on the bed, winded, hands hurting from gripping the covers so hard.  “I can’t believe you made me do that.”
          He stood over me, his erection a beautiful brown exclamation point.  ““You’re delicious.  I’ll make you do it again, if you want.”
          “You’re asking me?”
          “I’m a gentleman,” he said.  “A gentleman treats a lady exactly how she wants to be treated.  If you want to come that hard again, I’ll make you.”
          I closed my eyes and moaned, staring at the moisture on his lips and his cheeks.  “Kit…”
He checked the nightstand and found the condoms.  Kit came back to the bed, staring at me.  He caressed my face.  “I have to be inside you, Zuri.  Now.  I’ll be as gentle as I can, because I know it’s been a while, but be advised that all I really want to do is just bury myself deep inside you as quickly as possible.  Put the condom on for me.” 
I grinned wickedly and took the package, then laid it on the bed.  He stared at me.  “Zuri?”
“Turnabout’s fair play, don’t you think?”
“Do you want to give me head?”
I slid my fingers around him and licked the tip.  “What do you think?”
“Sassy,” he said, his breathing constricting.  “And sexy.  Suck away; I won’t stop you.  But I do want to come inside you, so if I pull away, it’s because I’m about to bend you over.”
I murmured in delight, glad to take over.  He felt so good in my mouth; so hard, so right.  I slid my hands around his waist and relaxed my jaw, moving my head in a slow, seductive rhythm.  Soon, he had double handfuls of my hair and guided me over the landscape of his dick.  He tasted good; light and salty, a flavor I could get used to.
“Zuri,” he moaned, trying not to move my head faster.
I ran my tongue around and around, flicking the tip over his frenulum and the back of it over the head.  Kit stiffened, and just as he’d said, he pulled away from me, pushed me to the side, grabbed my waist and bent me over.  I love a man who isn’t afraid to manhandle me.  Lord knows I need it. I heard the quick rip of plastic, then another moment and he was inside me.  My back arched to accommodate him and he grabbed my hips, smacking my ass.
“Zuri,” he murmured.  “Zuri…”
 I closed my eyes and met his rhythm, popping my hips against his every time we connected.  “I feel you; you feel so good, it’s like you’re filling me up, Kit.  Mmmm….harder.  Pull my hair.”
A moment and then my neck was yanked back as he pulled my hair.  We moved faster, enjoying the smacking sounds our bodies made and the sounds that emanated from our mouths.  The bed bounced, knocking against the wall.  I spared a glance at the monitor to see if Kit’s and my noises woke Jelani, and was glad to see they hadn’t.  I’m an aural lover, and there was nothing like the music of really good sex.  I bent lower, putting my arms down on the bed and spread a little more.  My breasts were leaking.  I reached back and began to play with my clitoris.  He hissed and banged against me like a wild man.
“Zuri,” he said, his breath coming in hot hitches.  “Zuri, I’m about to come…I’m going to…”
I closed my eyes, pinched my clit and clamped down on his dick.  He felt the caving of the sugar walls and from that, burst.  I burst as well; running from the top and the bottom.  Kit trembled and stumbled forward, collapsing on top of me.  I grunted as I took his weight.  He covered my body and his limp dick slid out of me, mixing with the remnants of my third orgasm.
“Your ass is so soft, Zuri.  You’re so soft; every curve, every line, every bump…I love touching you.  I know that I’m heavy, but I could stay here with you like this.”  He rolled off me and removed the used condom.
I turned over and looked at him, swiping my sweaty forehead.  My breasts still dribbled, but not much.  Kit looked at me.
“You leaked during sex?”
“A couple of times; especially when you made me come.  I sprayed the bed a few seconds ago.
“I wish I’d been under it,” he said.  “That’s a kink of mine, Zuri.  Do you mind?”
“You have a breast milk fetish?”
“It’s a turn-on.  Are you leaking now?”
“Yeah.  Jelani will be up soon, so I should get cleaned up.”
Kit ran a hand over my back before lifting my arm.  He rolled in such a way that I was over him and he kneaded my breasts.  Soon, thin dribbles of colostrum escaped my nipples and he licked it off my skin.  He didn’t press hard and he made sure not to spray; he just gently licked the beads of liquid that formed on my nipples.
“If I were your son, I’d never give up the breast.”
“Whatever, Kit.  You know that greedy little fatboy is getting off the tit within the next three months.”  I remained over my sexy, quirky lover, immensely pleased.  “You make me feel good, Kit.  You know how to do it, do me.”
“I’m your man; I’d better know how to do my woman.  I don’t want another man trying to find out your sweet spots and your sexy secrets.”
I smiled and then a scream cut the air.  I looked over at the monitor.  Jelani was awake and wiggling out from under the blankets.  I sighed.
Kit gently kissed both nipples and slid off the bed.  “Go on and wash up.  I’ll get him.”
When he brought my squalling son into the room, Jelani was freshly changed.  He was on Kit’s shoulder and I watched as a few soft words and a couple of strokes on his back calm Jelani down.  Kit kissed the baby’s head and handed him to me.  I lay back down and arranged him against me.  Jelani started sucking and this time it really hurt, for I’d discovered that Kit too, was a hard sucker.
“You owe me, I said.  You suck hard too.”
“I promise that you can suck anything hard of mine anytime you wish.”
“Sure,” I said.  “Of course you would.”
Kit sat beside me, covering us with the sheet.  He kissed my ear.  “Zuri, that was beautiful.”
“I thought so too.”
“Were it not for the baby, we’d be at it again.”
“We would.”
“I’m spending the night.”
“I hope so.”
“I want this; I want all of this, all of you, every bit of it.”
“Kit, it’s already yours.”  I wasn’t about to play games with this man.
“I’m going to see to it that it stays that way.  He adjusted so that I fit in the curve of his arm.  We lay together and I found myself dozing against him while my baby nursed.  “You like it hard, don’t you?”
“I do, at times.  When the mood calls for it.”
“I’ll do what you want when you want it, Zuri.  Now get comfortable, let’s go to sleep.”
I couldn’t argue.  Kit made me come three times.  I wasn’t fit to do much else.  We lay back and I adjusted Jelani so that he could lie on a pillow.  I wrapped around my baby and Kit wrapped around me.  And we were like that, comfortable, happy, and as close to in love as two could be.  I wouldn’t put labels on what we had; Kit and I were together, and that was fine for me.
“Do you want more, Zuri?”
“Meaning?”
“More out of this, what we have here.”
“Kit, as long as we’re together and you’re good to my son, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said. “I want what you want, and if that changes, then I’ll change to adjust to it.  I’m with you, and I want to continue to be with you.  I’m so crazy about you.  Let’s have something; let’s really have a life together.”
“All right,” I said.  “What does that entail?”
“An open mind and a man you can trust.  Completely.  Do that and I’ll do the rest.”
I ran my hands down Jelani’s back, thinking of how Kit supported me and helped me bring forth my son.  How he had defended me time and again; how he had saved me.  There was no reason not to trust him.  I looked into this man’s eyes; the potential father of my child, as far as I was concerned, and saw all I needed to see.  “Let’s do it.  Give me everything, Kit.”

fin.  For real this time.

The End of a Love Affair: Smutty Outtake

A/N:  I thought I was done with Kit and Zuri, but the other day, they demanded that I allow them to have sex.  So, for your reading pleasure...  Rating: NC-17 and a fetish warning.  Not for the squeamish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The plan was to actually try and go out for the evening.  Kit didn’t mind Jelani being a part of the date; he wanted to include my child in nearly everything we did.  It made our dating plans interesting, for they had to accommodate a three-month old baby.  But for the mere fact that Kit wanted Jelani around made it quite easy for him to get anything he wanted out of me.  Not that he has; ever since that beautiful night in my bedroom where we put our feelings out there, the most we’ve ever done is kiss and make out.  He’s been busy working cases with J____, and I recently reported to Quantico for my new job as a firearms instructor.  And he didn’t want to rush, which was fine with me.
Kit made an effort to see me at least twice a week; we actually planned our time together.  On those days, we were determined to leave work at a decent hour (it’s more difficult for him than it is for me), and he came to my house.  I’ve been to his apartment a couple of times, but he prefers coming to me so I don’t have to lug Jelani’s diaper bag and carrier around.  Either way, when we see each other, there’s a pressure in my chest and a tingling in my extremities.  I wanted Kit in the worst way; kissing him leaves me with an ache, a void, a sweet pain that nothing in the world could eradicate, except for one thing.  The woman in me; the one he’d unleashed, screamed for him and I could deny her but so long.
  Kit made arrangements for a Brazilian restaurant that I’d been dying to go to, and it was a place where I’d be comfortable with Jelani.  My precious baby boy bounced in his little seat and made happy little noises while I made up my face and fixed my hair.  I haven’t dressed up in months and it felt good to do so.  I wanted to look good for Kit; I wanted to be irresistible to him.  I wanted him to look at me and think what a sexy woman I was; how fortunate he was to have such a hot babe as his girlfriend.  What I really wanted was for him to be unable to keep his hands off me.  I bought condoms and stuck them in my nightstand because if I had my way, we would have sex this evening.  Jelani slept in his room now, and I had no fear that he would hear us getting it on.
The doorbell rang once; to let me know he was there, and then I heard him come in.  I gave him a key to my house two weeks ago.  I stepped back and looked at myself; the dress was a classic Badgley-Mischka LBD; simple, elegant and just the right amount of clinginess to accentuate my curves.  I wore it with thigh-high seamed stockings and a pair of black patent B-M heels.  My boobs were huge; Jelani was still on the tit and he was a greedy little boy.  I did the best I could to harness my cannons and wore nipple pads just in case I leaked.  Kit made no secret about his fascination with my breasts, but I did want him to look me in the eyes at some point during our evening.
“Zuri?”
“I’m in my bedroom,” I said, turning this way and that, tugging, pulling and tucking to make sure I looked my absolute best.  Jelani bounced happily in his rocker and made ga-ga sounds, as if to emphasize how good his mother looked.
Kit entered the room and stopped at the door just as I finished securing my corset.  “Hi, Kit.”
He stared at me for a very long moment, and I took the time to appreciate the utter fineness that was my boyfriend.  His hair was down; I liked it loose, and he wore a black suit, Kenneth Cole from the look, with an open throated white shirt.  I closed my eyes as I felt my womanly recesses begin to burn.
“Zuri…”
“I haven’t had a chance to dress up for you,” I said.  “You’ve seen me looking beat to shit and my hair a hot fire mess, and you still want me…I thought it would be nice for you to see me in all my feminine glory and wonder if you’ll want me still.”
“If I told you that it wasn’t necessary to go out; that I’d be willing to have my dinner right here…” he waved his hand in front of me, “…would that answer your question?”
I blinked.  “I didn’t cook anything.”
He came towards me.  “I didn’t mean that, Zuri.  You look so…you look amazing. If you said, ‘Let’s stay here,’ then I’m willing to do it.  I’ll do anything you want, you know that.”
“It took me two hours to get ready, Kit.  Including the time it took for me to get Jelani ready.  So, we’re going out to dinner.  I didn’t pour my wide ass into this dress just to turn around and take it off.”
He put his hands on my waist and pulled me in for a kiss.  I put my arms around him and kissed him back, leaning into him.  Kit’s hot, solid, sexy and considerate.  He’s the kind of man any woman would be fortunate to lose herself in.  And I wanted to lose myself in him.  His hands slid down and over my ass.  He gripped my cheeks and I murmured against his lips.  He had never grabbed my ass before; nor pressed me into him so that I felt his arousal.  Kit broke the kiss and looked at me.  He had lipstick on his lips and I wiped it off, knowing my own were smeared.  I’d freshen up in the car.
“Zuri, I want you more every time I see you.  I need to be with you; I need more than the sweetness of your mouth and the softness of your skin.  I want you; all of you, every inch of you.  Let me make love to you tonight.  Please.”
I pressed my forehead to his and considered the fact that it really wasn’t that difficult to get into the dress, and it wouldn’t be hard to get it back on.  The stockings were thigh highs; I could conceivably leave them on, and the heels if he wanted me to.
“Kit, I need you too,” I said.  “I want you; I need you…and you owe me another chance to wear this dress.”  I turned around so that he could slip it off me, and he did so, kissing my bare shoulders.
“Zuri, Zuri…what you do to me…”  He unhooked my corset and it fell down by my feet.  I moaned as his hands came around to caress my breasts, which had started to ache.  I watched us in the mirror; Kit’s dark head bent over my shoulder, dropping tender kisses.  His body heat was intense; as if he were a sun and I was drawn in by his gravitational pull.  He stepped back to remove his jacket, slacks and shirt and I turned to be treated to the hardness of his body and the softness of his lips.  My hands found their way into his silky dark hair and his once again found their way to my ass.  He gripped me hard, and bit my bottom lip.  I gasped, overcome with surprise and desire at my body’s response to his aggressive actions.  His breathing grew rapid and his kisses intensified.
“Zuri,” he broke off, nibbling the tip of my nose.  “Change of plans.  I don’t want to make love to you.  I want to fuck you.  Do you mind?”
Who was he kidding?  I was tingling all over from the bite to my lip.  To ensure he understood, I bit him back and nibbled his chin.  “That answer your question?”
When my feet left the floor is beyond me.  My back was pushed into the firm comfort of my bed and then Kit was all over me.  We kissed; hard, hot and heavy and he was between my spread legs, gripping my bare upper thighs so hard I knew bruises would form.  I still wore my panties and he his boxers, and we ground against each other like it didn’t matter.  He stroked my breasts and fingered my nipples; making them ache even more and I groaned with unreleased need.
Kit liked to kiss, and he was damned good at it.  He took his time with my mouth, but there was nothing tender about the way he ravaged my mouth and nothing sweet about my response to it.  I longed for him to be inside of me; my body throbbed and I’d arched my wet panties up into him enough so that he’d know for sure how horny I was.
“Kit,” I moaned as he kissed and licked my throat.  I slipped my hand into his shorts and caressed him; his dick was warm and hard and it felt like heaven in my hand.
“Zuri,” he breathed.  “Zuri, please…”
I started to stroke him as we kissed, really wanting him free so I could grip him good, but our desire was shattered by the cries of my infant son.
“Damn it,” I said, my hand still around Kit’s erection.  “Jelani…why?”
Kit kissed me once more and rolled off.  I wanted to scream in frustration, but got up to tend to my baby.  He was crying and I picked him up.  He had soiled his diaper and he was hungry.
“Kit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, getting up to come stand behind me.  “We’re going to be fine, my dear.  He can’t help it.”
“Can you get me a diaper, some wipes and powder?”
Kit went to get the items and I removed Jelani’s adorable little outfit and the smelly diaper.  I cleaned him up while Kit disposed of the mess, and then washed my hands.  Then I lay down on my bed, irritated while Jelani rubbed his face in one of my breasts.  Sighing, I attached his mouth to the nipple and cradled him.  Kit came back in and saw me.  For what felt like an hour, but could have been no more than seconds, he watched me nurse my son and then got in bed with us.  He told me to hold on to Jelani and adjusted us in bed so that we could lock legs and he could support me.
“Kit?” I asked as he resumed kissing the side of my face and slid a hand down my thigh.  “Maybe we should have gone out to dinner.  Perhaps that’s why this little guy decided to cut the ape and ruin the moment.”
He chuckled.  “It won’t be the last moment he ruins.  Besides, if you want to go out, we still can.  If not, I’ll definitely take you out to dinner tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
He shrugged.  “Half the time, J____ doesn’t need my assistance.  He takes off on assignments at will.  It used to annoy me, but it doesn’t anymore.  He can do without me for another day.  I want to spend quality time with my lady and her little boy.”
At this, Jelani waved his fat little fist.  I couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I want to spend time with you too, Kit.  Apparently, so does my son.”
“Good,” he said.  Then he started kissing the side of my face as I switched Jelani to the other breast. “It looks like he’s getting sleepy.”
“I hope so.  He’s a hard sucker.”
“Is that right?” Kit said.
I smiled and cradled the baby.  “Yes.”
Kit’s hand slid under my arm and began to stroke my nipple.  “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” I said.  It was the truth; Jelani’s jaws were strong and he had a tendency to clamp my nipples.  I sometimes had to apply cold compresses to my breasts when he finished feeding.  I didn’t know when I would wean him, but it wouldn’t be long before I started.
“What about now?” Kit said, moving his kisses to my ear.
I closed my eyes and squeezed my legs together.  “It hurts in an entirely different way.”  This ache I didn’t mind.
“Is that right?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I murmured, praying Jelani was asleep enough to be put down.
He pressed a kiss to my ear.  “I have to admit, Zuri, that watching you nurse your baby is a turn-on,” he said.  “I could watch you with him all night.  I’m so horny for you right now.”
“Really?” I said.  I knew that he watched me feed Jelani sometimes, but I never knew it made him horny.  “That’s a bit of useful information, don’t you think?”
“Well,” he breathed, starting to pinch my nipple, “I’ve tried to stay away from you whenever you do it just because I don’t think I could stop myself from jumping you.”
“What about it do you find exciting? The way I look or the way he feeds?  Or is it just my boobs being on display?”
“All of it,” he said, moaning as a dribble of milk leaked onto his fingertips.  I whimpered in response and instinctively flinched.  Jelani’s head moved and his lips pulled away from my engorged nipple; still making sucking motions.  Milk streamed out and sprayed his little face.  But he was asleep.  Kit watched this and groaned, squeezing me tight.  “I have to have you now, Zuri.  I want you so bad that I can taste it.  Please, please put Jelani down for the night.”

2/28/2011

Shortie: Her


        You ever have the feeling that you’re competing with another woman?  Real talk, ladies.  I mean you know that there’s another woman, but you can’t prove it?  How many women know what I mean?  Well, that’s how I feel.  And the stupid thing is that I know that my husband has never ever stepped out on me.  I trust him and I know he hasn’t.  He’s a wonderful husband and provider, and truth be told, I know he loves me.  Our sex life is good, healthy, and relatively frequent.  He comes home to me every night.  Our anniversary is never forgotten, nor birthdays and major holidays.
But.
I know he has feelings for someone else.  I know it.  I know her.  That’s not to say that she has done anything at all to jeopardize our marriage.  She has not.  I mean that I know who she is, and what’s bad is that I like her.  She’s intelligent and funny and reliable.  She always sends gifts to our children on their birthdays and holidays and has always been supportive of my family.  She isn’t married, isn’t even dating from my understanding, and I have never known her to make a move towards my husband.
          But.
They’ve been friends for twenty years.  I heard about her on our first date.  Her talent, her accomplishments, her responsibilities.  When he talked about her then, there was a look in his eyes that made me think at that time that date would be our last.  He never talked about her so much as to make me uncomfortable, but I always knew what was going on with her.  And when I met her, she was ebullient and quite pleased to meet me.  It seemed that I was meeting her to get her approval, and if I didn’t put my best foot forward, I wouldn’t, and would lose him.
I didn’t lose him.  We got married a year and a half later, six months after the birth of our son.
She was there from the beginning.  She’s always been there, a silent presence hanging over my husband.  A reminder of what might have been.  He has always stressed that they were friends, but the light that comes in his eyes when he speaks of her or to her in their monthly phone conversations makes me think otherwise.  I know that their friendship has never crossed physical boundaries, but…
         But, but, but…
She had a lot of emotional baggage that kept her out of serious relationships for years.  He had been there for her as friends ought.  We began dating right before her father died of bone cancer, and I had a regular report of her actions and state of mind.  Our relationship at that time was casual and even then I wondered if I was merely filling space or killing time for him.   Now, seven years and three children later, I’m sure that I was.  Even though our relationship is solid and strong, I know that if she had been mentally ready for a serious relationship, he would have left me years ago.  Before I got pregnant.
I know what you’re thinking.  That I got pregnant on purpose.  Honestly, I did not.  It was one night, a great evening, heated exchanges and we went for it.  I was on the pill, and apparently that one percent failure rate included me.  I got pregnant and he decided we would get married.  Hindsight being what it is, I know he did it to do the right thing by me and our son.  He loves me.  But I don’t think he’s ever been in love with me.  I believe in my heart of hearts that he is in love with her.  That light in his eyes is reserved for our three beautiful children and her.  I’m not a recipient, never have been.  Not even on our wedding day.
She’s a research chemist at the CDC, specializing in toxins.  She’s the director of her unit, accomplished and well paid.  She’s single, childless and successful.  She has average looks and an average figure, not bad.  One would think that the way my husband is about her she must be a Beyonce or a Zoe Saldana, or some equally beautiful starlet sexpot.  She isn’t. 
I want to hate her but I cannot.  She appears to be genuinely happy for us.  She has never indicated otherwise, but I wonder how she truly feels about me.  When she calls our house, we chat for several minutes; she asks about my career and the children, asks if they need anything, and asks about everything.  I can hear the feeling in her voice and I know she’s sincere.  Maybe the feelings were one-sided.
One night I accosted him about the true nature of their friendship.  He told me that they had been friends for years, nothing more.  He appreciated her talent and her solidarity.  She was the same with him.   There had never been any untoward feelings on either’s part.  I heard him, listened to him, but still I can’t help feeling that but for Damian’s appearance, he would have been with her.
I happened to have met, by accident, one of his other ex-girlfriends.  She was nice and to the point, and shared interesting sentiments:  1. He raved about some other girl he didn’t even date.  2.  She had to meet the girl; he brought her to the girl’s house and introduced them.  And, he had done that with every girl he dated.  3.  She wasn’t even pretty.  4.  If she had been in position, he would have been dating her instead.  5.  The ex felt as if she was merely filler while he waited for his friend to get her head right.  She decided that she didn’t want to compete with another woman that wasn’t even the other woman and broke up with him.
Am I settling?  I don’t know.  I love my husband and I don't want to consider breaking up my family.  But I don’t want a love I can live with; I much prefer a love I can’t live without.  I deserve that.  A man is only as good as his options, and perhaps she would have made him the best man he could possibly be.  With me, he’s just a good man.
I’m afraid to bring it up again.  I feel like I might put a strain on our marriage that we can’t recover from.  He’s given me no reason to distrust him, and if he thinks I do, he might leave me.  There’s no doubt in my mind that he would go to her if he did.  Do I rock the boat?  Should I put my heart and my family on the line and demand something from him that maybe he’s already giving me?  I shouldn’t have to share my husband with another woman.  Mental adultery is far more painful than physical adultery, because while you can stop sleeping with another person, you may never ever stop thinking about them.  It’s in the mind where cheating starts.  She’s been with him longer than I have; could it be he thinks he’s cheating on her with me?  A woman could go insane thinking about this.
I have three children.  My children love their father and he loves them.  He provides a safe and happy home and we have a good life.  I don’t want for anything.  Other women see me and want what I have.  Is our relationship tenuous at best?  If it isn’t, then why am I scared that I could lose him if I said anything else about her?  If I could lose him, then was he ever really mine?  Am I better without him? 
What do I do?  What would you do?

2/26/2011

Transformations...

So one year ago this week, I'm ensconced in the dark quiet of my sitting room (named Tahiti), pouring out my heart and soul into a Spock/Uhura fanfic that recently won the 2010 S/U Best Smutfic. I wrote "Sexy Beast" at a feverish, breakneck pace; posting 5000-word chapters almost every day.  I wrote it from the void, in the dark, out of time and space. It consumed me to the point where I didn't sleep, barely ate, and could focus on nothing but the next chapter. I wrote a third of it with tears streaming down my face. It was a catharsis; an emotional rollercoaster of a regurgitation of feelings, thoughts, heartaches and pain buried underneath years of self-denial. Subconscious secrets, dreams and desires surged forth and I was able to speak those things out loud. It took me six weeks to finish and when I did; it was like a weight off my chest. I could breathe again and the tears dried up. And I began to transform.

It’s because of that infamous fic that I’m sitting here, blogging. A year ago, blogging was something others did. A year ago, I didn’t own a business. A year ago, the only work I edited was my own. A year ago, I would have never considered posting pictures of myself on the web, or creating an alter ego through which to express and exercise my overwhelming creative spirit. But a year after the conception of Sexy Beast (of which I have to thank Gerri Grant for), I’m a blogger, a business owner, and an editor. You’re reading my blog. I co-own a publishing house, Middle Child Press, with my friend and fellow lunatic, Ankhesen Mié. And I edited my very first anthology, The Sultry Court. Not to mention the fact that I met some extremely wonderful women: Noob, Neets, Gerriv and Ankh to name a few. All within a year.


I’m a woman of faith. I always knew that I would be published one day. I knew that my particular gift was God-given and it was meant to be shared. I also knew that there were priorities and other considerations that kept it from happening when I thought it should. But God delivered me from my awesome responsibilities and put my dreams (and then some) in my hands all in one fabulous year. Instead of facing (again) the arbitrary hurdles of getting a author contract, I can now publish my novels any time I want and I don’t have to deal with the standard publishing bullshit. I can interact with like-minded individuals who share my vision. The decades spent honing my craft and dealing with the industry can be of benefit to new and struggling writers to keep them from going down that exact same path. I’m an author, editor, and a businesswoman. And, as the blog informs, a Dark Dreamer.  That particular description is a subject of a future post.

The most important thing in all of this is that I am transforming into the woman I’m supposed to be.  I am becoming, finally, the woman that I saw in my mind so many years ago.