Limousine Confessions: All Out In The Open Read online

  LIMOUSINE CONFESSIONS

  Nicety

  Copyright © 2014 BLACK CHERRY PUBLISHING

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  This E-novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual events, real people, living or dead, organizations, establishments or locales are products of the author’s imagination. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission from the publisher and writer.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication, and may no longer be valid.

  Copyright © 2014 NICETY

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  I WOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS NOVEL TO EVERY MARRIED COUPLE WHO HAS EVER HAD A PROBLEM IN THEIR MARRIAGE. WHETHER YOU’VE TRIED TO FIX IT, WORKED IT OUT, AND/OR REMAINED TOGETHER, AS LONG AS YOU KNOW YOU PUT IN THE WORK AND GAVE IT YOUR ALL THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS. KEEP REACHING FOR LOVE.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  SPECIAL SHOUT OUTS go to my family and my friends

  who have supported my dream of becoming a published writer.

  They believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself years ago.

  I’m making you proud now! Also to my dedicated readers for

  without you there would be no me. I love you all!

  To some very special people who have been rocking

  with me and supporting me from day one, your love knows no bounds.

  Much love goes out to my editors Latosha Scruggs and Samantha Kennedy.

  You ladies are truly a blessing.

  Jackie Figueroa, the CEO of #TeamNicety, I couldn’t do it without you diva.

  Thomasa Coleman, the VP of #TeamNicety, you’re the best doll.

  If you rep #TeamNicety, then this book is for you.

  THE BIG PAYBACK

  “But I love you. How you gonna play me like that?” I questioned with tears flowing from my big dark brown eyes.

  “It’s over, you need to deal with that. I told you this shit was not supposed to go down like this,” White responded yanking his arm from me as if my very touch grossed him out. "Hey you got what you wanted too. I bought you tennis bracelets, and nice clothes. Everything you ever wanted."

  As my frustration grew, I looked over at the clock on my nightstand, 3:25am. He stood there as if he was waiting on an invitation to leave or some shit. I buried my head in my black satin pillow and released a greater river of tears, heartbroken at the fact that he didn’t love me anymore. At least not the way I loved him. I was good enough to fuck for the last three years but I wasn’t good enough to be his woman, his one and only. I had everything she had, tits, ass, a pretty face, and long dark brown hair that was my own and went well past my shoulders. I even looked a lot like her. So I couldn’t understand why he hated me so much.

  "Have I not been good to you?" My voice was eerily deep and calmer than usual.

  "What?" White turned looking back at me angrily. "Good to me? This was straight fucking! Don't you get it? You actually thought we were going to be together? You were a piece of ass honey, nothing more."

  “So all that bullshit you said about loving me was all lies then, right?”

  “When did I say some shit like that? When my dick was deep in it? In your dreams maybe but not in real life,” he retorted.

  For a split second I had forgotten who he was to me. I was so blinded by the love I thought I had for him that I couldn't see past the vile, disgusting pervert he really was. I leaned back on the bed raising my long white t-shirt above my inviting supple breasts. I toyed with them as my body temperature rose and my kitty cat purred for more.

  "So fuck me then. You took this pussy like I was a whore, so what’s stopping you now. Take it like you did the first time you tasted this sweet ass," I moaned leaning my head back in enjoyment feeling as though it was the only way to keep the relationship going.

  White mounted me without hesitation. He was so used to banging this pussy that his manhood grew every time he even thought about it. He was hungry for me as I was he. He bit my neck and yanked my hair, grinding on me like the horny dog that he was. My eyes glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, 3:40am. I smiled as he flipped me over ripping my pink cotton panties completely off. I waited as he shuffled through his belt buckle and fly to whip his junk out on me. He stroked it like he was preparing it for battle and then inserted it into me nice and rough. The pain was always unbearable since his dick was fatter than I was used to but I took it like a pro every time. He rammed deeper and deeper inside of me pulling my hair back and squeezing my tits like they would squish through his fingers.

  "You know what I like to hear. Say it, you nasty tramp!" White was more forceful with his words on this night. Flipping me back on all fours, he spit on the back of my neck then licked it up like ice cream. He yelled it again and again then spat again.

  "Fuck me dirty!" I finally gave in.

  "Yeah, say it again, bitch."

  "Fuck me dirty!" I thought after five years I would be used to saying it but I wasn't.

  It still brought tears to my eyes but this time I was determined not to let them fall. He only wanted to fuck me and toss me away like trash. A part of me started to believe the shit after awhile, that I was nothing more than trash in a back alley. Thinking of all the heartache he caused me, it was evident that he would never be mine. He has been fucking me since I was seventeen years old and I could see myself being with no one else. He broke my virginity and told me that we would be together forever. Looking back at the way he said it, I guess that was nothing but a bunch of bullshit.

  "Put your face in the pillow and toot that ass up. You know how I like it," White ordered slapping my ass and palming it firmly.

  The clicking sound behind us didn't seem to stir him one bit but as I did what I was told, I heard it wondering what it was. The three loud shots that came afterwards, however, couldn't be mistaken. I could feel the warm goo of blood trickle down my back. I thought I was dead but yet I was still breathing. White's body slowly slumped over on my body like a dead fish. I remember feeling relieved that it was finally over, relieved that three years of my step dad's special love had come to an end.

  At twenty years old, I should've known better than to think that he was ever going to love me the way I wanted him to and so for that he had to pay. I looked at the clock again, 3:45am, my mom's graveyard beat was right in the area and she always made it home like clockwork, always trying to keep him happy. He didn't like the fact that she was a cop so he used to beat her until she promised to beat the sun home every night for his own selfish pleasure. I knew she was coming home thus setting him up for the perfect demise. Though, I didn’t know that she’d react so deadly. I pushed his lifeless body off of me as it made a crunching thud on the floor.

  I remember looking up into my mother’s eyes, seeing her angelic facial expression of shock along with her trembling hands. Her eyes were empty, staring at me blankly. I smiled back at her trying to soothe her pain and let her know she had done a good thing. I reached out one hand to her as I covered my naked body with my blanket with the other hand. Words couldn't express how happy I was to see her. She had finally been able to rid each of us of White's domineering hand.

  Click.

  And one final shot rang through the air as she shot me
.

  ****

  "Damn lady. All that shit happened to you for real?" The driver asked as I drunkenly flopped my head over on the seat.

  "Sounds interesting don’t it?"

  "I'll tell you one thing, you've lived one hell of a life. But that's no reason to go out getting drunk everywhere you go and letting men use you as a toilet seat."

  "I'm not drunk. I'm just a little tipsy," my lip exhaled a faint sigh as I struggled to sit up. "And men don’t use me…at least not anymore. I’m giving up on men and I’m giving up on you. Alright? Listen, just get me home already and you'll never have to worry about me again."

  "Why's that, lady?"

  "Cause your nosey lame ass is fired." I pointed waveringly. "That's why."

  "Well, you are home already, lady. We've been sitting here for fifteen minutes."

  "Then get the hell out and open my fucking door." My words were slurred.

  He immediately rushed out of the town car to my side as he opened my door and held his hand out to help me out of the car. My head rose looking up into his beautiful brown eyes and milk chocolate skin as I pulled down my tight blue cocktail dress. His eyes were dreamy, much like the ones those guys had on those cheesy teenage movies where the girl first notices her true love crush. I wanted to kiss him, slobber him down right there on the street, but he was so tall that I couldn't reach him.

  "You have beautiful eyes," I smiled, feeling nauseous.

  "Thank you miss." He wrapped his big arm around my back, helping me to my door and extending my arm to the doorman. "Please make sure she gets to her apartment safely."

  "Aye, hey, wait. That's it? You're just going to leave me with the doorman and send me on my way?" I waved hysterically.

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm fired. Remember?" Even the half smile perched upon his face was dreamy.

  The next thing I remember was pushing the doorman up off of me and stumbling to the elevator then my apartment. Once I got the right key in the keyhole, I fumbled my clothes off of my body and onto the floor. In the darkness, I sat on the sofa staring at my huge king size bed in the other room wishing I had the energy to make it there. As I drifted off to sleep, all I could think about was that tomorrow it was back to my boring drab life.

  THIS SUCKS

  It was 6:15am. The sun grazed my face gently. I looked out the window of my downtown Chicago loft apartment and wondered what my life was coming to. I was a twenty eight year old magazine managing editor at Sazz Magazine and I was single with no kids. All of my friends were off living extravagant lives with their husbands and families, taking family trips and planning dinner parties. Me, well I was busy planning my next story idea and vision to submit to my editor in chief.

  It wasn’t me, the reason why I was still single. It for damn sure wasn’t me cause I was modelesque height with a thin waist and a firm ass. I had perfect 36 B breasts and hair that flowed a little bit past my shoulders that was all mine. Hell my body should have been banging for the amount of time that I put into the gym, working out six days a week. If it weren’t for the thin scar flowing from the top of my right eyebrow on down over my cheek and ending right by my bottom lip, I would probably be gorgeous to any man. It was one of the reasons why I never approached men. I guess I was just too insecure about my scar. The bullet I took years ago, scraped the side of my face. I was lucky, damn lucky that it didn't kill me and that my mother got fifteen years for what she did. But most of the men that I dated couldn't see past it, which caused me to grow thick skin and not give a fuck.

  The bastards who I did get into relationships with, however, always had an addiction to every other woman but me. One even went as far as to slip his wedding ring on and off. He fucked up when I surprised him at his job for lunch and saw pictures of her and the kids all over his office. It was then that I swore off men. At least the ones that made my life a living hell. I needed to focus and get my mind back right. So, I haven’t dated anyone in four months, which means I haven’t had sex in that long either. My well was running dry and my mind was running rampant. I often thought about paying a high end escort for some great one night stand dick, but the thought of how many women had already paid for their services a week made my skin crawl.

  “Tamika Rawlins,” I answered the phone, rising from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

  “Hey girl, it’s Dena. I’m sending a car service for you. And, I don’t wanna hear about how you don’t need a car service because getting on that train everyday is not cutting it. Kathy is holding a mandatory editor's meeting this morning and she said if you are late this time she will have your ass.” Dena rambled on and on about my tardiness. “Are you listening, girl?”

  “I heard something. She's always calling these spur of the moment meetings. Anyway, I don’t need a car. I'm so not going through that again. I’m up early and I’m leaving out early, so don’t get your panties in a bunch. Tell her I’ll be there.”

  I hung up on Dena, scurrying around the house trying to get myself together. Summertime in Chicago always yielded blazing hot weather, forcing the downtown buildings to turn their air conditioning on frostbite. I found a middle ground, choosing a bright red sundress and a blue jean crop jacket. My hair was curly from the shower, prompting me to tussle it a little with fingers before grabbing my Louis satchel and heading out the door. I figured I could apply a little makeup on the train.

  The train was always packed at that time of day with folks shuffling and scrambling to get to work. I hated to rat race but it was better than trying to think of things to say to the drivers from the car services. Even when I wasn't in the mood for talking they always found a way to spark a conversation. To me, it was the worst thing known to man and even more so since I didn't remember much of what I said to the one that drove me home from the Burberry Benefit that my job hosted every year.

  A couple sat in the corner seats of the train comfortably necking, as strange business suited bodies pressed up against me. The train forcibly swayed their bodies into one another while we held on for dear life, hoping not to be one of the ones that get launched onto the floor as the train makes its abrupt stops.

  Apart of me wished for a water balloon to appear in my hand just then, so I could launch it throw the crowd hurling right for their asses. I bet they would think twice next time they decide to gross people out with their mushy love acts. The train reached the Grand Avenue stop just as the two had begun swallowing each other's tongues and opening their mouths so we all could see the darkness of their mouths. My eyes rolled as I pushed my way through the crowd and up the stairs, rushing to get out of the underground tunnel.

  "I'm here. I'm here." I waved my hand plopping down in one of the office chairs at the long oak oval table.

  "Damn girl, you're dripping. You must've bolted from the train," Dena whispered, as she flicked her long blonde hair.

  "Um," Kathy cleared her fifty-year-old throat. "Now that everyone is here, maybe we can begin."

  As usual, Kathy had her projection movie ready as she clicked to the first page and dimmed the lights. The presentation went on for thirty minutes, since Kathy was one who had to explain each detail on the screen. She had very little patience for questions she had already given an answer to. Still, at the end of her presentation, she found herself asking the age old question.

  "So, does anyone have any questions?" She gritted through her teeth, searching the room finding no hands raised. "Excellent. Tamika, your topic is Sexually Frustrated: Freakiest Ways To Give Yourself a Great Orgasm."

  "Huh? Is this a joke? Am I being punked right now?" My lips curled over slamming the red folder she slid to me on the table. "Why would you give this to me?"

  "Well I figured you would personally give this topic your all." The smile that formed on her face after she spoke the words made me want to drag her through the Dan Ryan Woods by the strands of her short spiked salt and peppered buzz cut.

  I wanted to curl up in the corner and seriously die. She could've stamped "single and sexle
ss" right on my forehead in bright neon pink ink and it still would've been better than what she had just done. There was no way I was about to take on this article after she had so eloquently put me on blast in front of six of my other colleagues. When the meeting was up moments later, I bypassed Dena’s inquisitive look and made a B-line for Kathy.

  “Hey, Kat. I don’t feel comfortable doing this topic. Is there anyone else you can find to do it?” I kept my voice in a low tone so as not to alert anyone else to the contents of conversation.

  “Why should I find someone else to do it? I found you. Now go out there and make me proud.” She slapped me casually on the ass with her manila folders before heading out of the conference room.

  “Damn girl. Tough break. Just be glad you don’t have to do my topic. Why Men Like Pretty Feet? I swear if this job didn’t give me the flexibility I need, I would’ve found another fashion magazine to work for long ago.” Dena whispered in my ear before leaving me to my thoughts.

  As if her comment made me feel any damn better.