Writing

A Tired Soul #tenwordstory #poem 


Photo courtesy of pixabay.com

Tired. Worn shoes. Getting too dark to turn back now.
© Pamela E. Hester

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Writing

If It Doesn’t Kill You, It Gives You A New Chapter To Write About #Quote #tuesdaymotivation 


Hi everyone! I hope you all have been doing well. My apologies for not posting in the last few weeks. Something drastic had happened that I can’t say right now. Please know that since the hurricanes that came and hit, I’m doing okay and so is my daughter. I took the first two weeks of October away from blogging and a few social media sites to do some healing and getting myself together. And to stay positive and happy. I tried getting around to reading most of your blogs, and those I didn’t, I haven’t forgotten you.

With that being said, whatever it is that you are going through or had been through, you are still alive and well. You are strong and blessed. 

“What doesn’t kill us give us something new to write about.” Write it down. Sing. Dance. Do whatever gives you joy and comfort.

Have a wonderful week.

Love,

Pamela ❤

Writing

My Heart Will Always Belong To You #marquessachallenge #love #fiction 


For yesterday’s challenge.

https://www.pexels.com

My heart is ready and prepares for tonight, but my mind is still cloudy from wondering if she still feels the same way about me, about us.

As I put on my black pants with no underwear on, I began to take a long drag of the ganja from the metal tray sitting on the night table, and allow the smoke to fill my lungs.

The night awaits me like a new found freedom, and I anticipated on seeing her since it feels like forever we last saw each other. I miss touching her soft skin, inhaling her rich inviting fragrance, and…and.. I need to pull myself together because they need me downstairs. I won’t wallow in distress. I just want her to love me the way I love her.

Once downstairs, I noted that everyone is becoming acquainted with one another. Laughter is lively and glasses are staying filled. They were all dressed in their costumes for the “What’s Your Fantasy” theme.

The host and hostess of the night, my best friends who are using my house for this occasion, are busying themselves doing what they normally do; keeping everyone entertained and satisfied.

Typhan noticed me and broke free of his wife, Vivian’s hand and hurried my way.

Hey man! How’s it going?” He said with a megawatt smile.

“What’s up? I’m good. You saw Tracee?”

“Yeah. She’s with a red-haired woman.” When he said that, I immediately looked around and saw five women with red hair, but no Tracee. What the hell? I muttered. I turned hastily to Ty and he utters a “good luck” and winks before heading back to Vivian who waves my way and kisses her husband. I didn’t bother waving back; they carried on without a care in the world, unashamedly.

After receiving a glass of vodka from a server, I interacted with several women and men who participated in various activities. Soft jazz music flowed throughout the house, women in leotards sashay and giggle as they pass me, and I’m distancing myself from the crowd in desperate need to search for Tracee.

Not so long as I began my search, I spotted her swaying her hips seductively to the music of Boney James with her eyes closed. She looked so beautiful and amazing as she continues to dance to the beats of drums and the saxophone, opening and closing her robe to tease us. The way she moved had all who were there in a trance, including me.

After her sensual dance, I move over to her, watching her as her eyes watch my every move. She knows I would be here, granted this is my home, and which had used to be hers. I could still her screams still vibrating off the walls when I go to sleep at night.

“Ryan, how have you been?” She said to me. She tried to force a smile but failed.

“I’m sure you know. What about you?”

“Been busy with work and just thinking about things.”

“Things like what?” I had to ask.

Tracee cocks her head, glances down at me, her eyes linger a little too long at my waistband, and said, “You still wanna prove how much you want me to be with you?”

I swallow; hearing those words almost made me regret once saying them. I nodded slowly and walked away. Okay, let’s do this your way. I gave her a flattering smile, trying to act like a lion, but inside I’m a scared kitten.

On a black chaise, I lay wearing only my pants and shoes waiting for her. My heart beat faster when the doorknob turns, and she enters like a goddess that she is in a black and red satin negligee with stilettos.

No words are needed at this point. Tracee arched an eyebrow and stood there with her left hand on her hip. She’s taking no prisoners. She demands an answer. People from her past had hurt her and/or gave false promises. I was no better. She feels I treated her unfairly and didn’t love her. I love her more than anything. I just want her to understand that I’m not used to expressing myself the way she wants.

“Ryan, I’m here and you haven’t said a word. You don’t tell me anything about how you feel about us. It’s like you don’t care.” I can hear the shakiness in her voice. It breaks my heart. Coming here, and telling me how it affected her had let me know all hope wasn’t lost.

“Darling, I love you. I would get on my knees. I would do anything for you. You have to understand how much you mean to me. There’s no one else who can make me feel the way you make me feel. My heart will always belongs to you.  I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love, cherish, and will support you.” Unexpected teardrops fell and it shocked me because I’m not one to cry.

She reaches up and wipes the tears from my face and we embraced. “I love you too,” she moans against my lips. The intense, fiery  energy consumed us. Nothing else matters.

We peel off our clothes and staggered over to the chaise where we made love to each other mind, heart, soul, and body.
© Pamela Hester

Much thanks to Marquessa for putting this challenge for this month together. I am late doing this one, because my internet was down. Hope you all enjoyed these stories and everyone who have participated. Thank you! 😘

Pingback to “I Touch Myself.”

Writing

Where Has Our Love Gone? #MondayBlogs #amwriting #fiction


Continued From- Baby, Your Love Kills Me.

https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-purple-dress-shirt-holding-white-smartphone-during-daytime-115020/

It has been about a week since Andrew and Jessica’s sexual encounter at a friend’s party, and Andrew had only heard from Jessica only once; which was very brief. He missed laying eyes on her and holding her dearly.

No sight no hear. He tried calling, yet received not a sound from her sing-song voice. What could it be? He kept asking himself, thinking back days ago of anything that could have gone wrong. Was it the negative vibes from a few women who sat gossiping about her? Jessica doesn’t give a damn about that. Or, was it the invasion of ants that messed up her so perfect hair after her afterglow? Andrew laughed at the hilarious memory. Nevertheless, they had fun, or so he thought.

Picking up the phone once again, he heard a loud knock at the door. He hurried over hoping it would be his Jessica. He jerked opened the door and found his best friend, Tamia with an upsetting look stretched across her face.

“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” She asked tautly, glancing about the place.

“I’ve been busy,” Andrew simply replied. He noted how distracted his friend was. Her large eyes glimpsed about as if to find a particular something or someone.

“Busy, huh? Oh, please don’t tell me, with Miss Prissy Jessica?”

“Yeah, busy,” Andrew avoided telling Tamia about his feelings towards Jessica’s absence. It would make her day worth living for just to know he’s having issues where Jessica is concerned.

Tamia studies him closer, not believing him for a second. Maybe “busy” worrying over that thot, Tamia thought, seething.

Andrew turned to ambles into the kitchen to fix a drink for them both. Disappointment washed over him that it wasn’t the one he was hoping for. He absentmindedly grabs the Tropicana and a glass. Anxiety began to tear him down. Not one time had he done something Jessica didn’t like. Andrew always went above and beyond for her.

“Earth to Andy!” Tamia yells, hitting her fist against the counter.

“Damn girl! Chill much? Here’s your orange juice,” Andrew shook his head, his nerves fired up. Call me Jessica, now!

Look, you been tripping over something since I walked in here. This is me. Tell me what’s bothering you, or I’m out.” Tamia fussed. She let her fingers drummed against the granite counter.

Sighing audibly, Andrew spilled out his feelings about Jessica and her absence anyway. They always had a bump in the road, yet they managed to work through it. They survived.

“…I know Jessica loves me, but she just have a funny way of showing it,” Andrew was saying.

“A funny way? Jessica don’t care about anyone but herself. She’s a leech, a freaking narcissistic. You have been damn near broke since she entered your life. You are always back and forth with her. Andrew, she’s no good for you.” Tamia prays that what she said resonate with her good friend.

Andrew is a great catch; she can see that. She can see herself with him as well. However, guys like Andrew seemed to fall for the bad girls’ type that broadcast their sexuality on Instagram and Snapchat like it was no problem. Jessica is a woman who wants a man for what he can give her, and once she gets what she wants, she moves on to the next; that is if she hasn’t lost interest.

Yeah, Tamia was sick to her core of those types of women who take the good guys and make a mess of them.

“You are wrong for this, Tamia. You are better than that.” Andrew glance up at the ceiling, hoping that by the time he counts to three, this nightmare with his childhood friend will cease to exist.

“No, you are better than being with a bitch like Jessica-”

“Don’t call her that!” Andrew interrupted furiously.

“How about this changing your mind,” Tamia digs into her Coach bag and threw numerous pictures at him.

“What is all this?” Andrew got his answer as his eyes scanned his scantily-clad woman in the arms of another man. Multiple pictures of the one whom he loves and thought love him, seducing and being seduced by a guy, who wasn’t him.

“I warned you about her. You see, she-”

“You have no right bringing this-” Andrew heard the sound of his doorbell ringing.

He hastily went to the door, still arguing with Tamia. Flinging the door open without asking who it was stood Jessica with a weird look plastered on her beautiful face.

If you haven’t already, read the beginning of their sweet misery of love. 💋