Healer!

HEALER EXTENDED DEFINITION
Overview
Healers are introspective, cooperative, informative, and attentive. Their tranquil and reserved exterior masks a passionate inner life. Healers care deeply about causes that interest them, and they often pursue those causes with selfless devotion. They are highly compassionate and empathetic to the needs of others, seeking to bring peace, health, and integrity to their companions and to society at large. They want to heal the problems that trouble individuals and correct the conflicts that divide social groups.
Healers tend to be private individuals who have a strong sense of right and wrong and an idealistic worldview. They are deeply committed to things that are positive or good and may be inspired to make extraordinary sacrifices in attempts to achieve their ideals. They are prone to errors of fact as they follow their feelings more than they follow logical analysis. However, following their feelings also means that Healers seldom make errors of feeling.
Healers are often misunderstood as children.[1] In practical minded families, their devotion to idealism may be frowned upon and may even be punished. Most other role variants can shrug off the parental expectations that don’t fit them, but healers are greatly affected by it. They want to please their parents and their siblings and, in attempt to do this, they may mask or hide their differences. This can create inner turmoil within the Healer. Healers are often better at detecting this inner turmoil than other role variants. Healers seek unity of mind, body and spirit, perhaps because of the inner turmoil caused during their upbringing.
Healers are adaptable, patient with complicated situations, and welcoming of new ideas and information. They are impatient with routine details. As they are aware of people’s feelings, Healers relate well with others. They are also comfortable working alone given their private nature. Healers have an interest in scholarly activities and often have exceptional language skills.
Occurring in only about one percent of the population, Healers can easily feel isolated. They value harmony and integrity in human relationships, but often find these values to be out of step with the more concrete pursuits of the rest of the world. Feeling "different," they may wonder whether something is wrong with them. But those differences—an ethical nature, a devotion to ideals, a commitment to harmonious interaction—are in fact some of their greatest strengths.
Love and relationships
One of the rarest of the types, Healers can be both extremely romantic and extremely independent. They are likely to want a mate who won't shrink from their expansive imagination. They are often attracted to those whom others have overlooked, given the Healers' rare ability to see the positive qualities that lie beneath the surface.[2]
In romantic relationships, Healers generally seek mates who, like themselves, have a highly developed inner life. An ideal mate must be open to the Healers' expressions of unique ideas. Healers may need long periods of privacy, followed by periods of intense intimacy, so they are best suited to a partner who can adapt to these changing needs.[2]
Generally thoughtful and considerate, Healers are good listeners and put people at ease. Although they may be reserved in expressing emotion, they are deeply caring and genuinely interested in understanding people. This sincerity is sensed by others, making Healers valued friends and confidants. They do not like conflict and go to great lengths to avoid it. In conflict situations, they place little importance on who is right and who is wrong. They focus on how the conflict makes people feel, a trait that can make them appear irrational and illogical.[3] In such situations, Healers may benefit from stepping out of the situation temporarily so they can reflect and replenish their reserves.
Work and career
Perfectionists, Healers have very high standards. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don't give themselves enough credit. They may have problems working on a project in a group, because their standards may be higher than those of other members of the group. This can lead them to become overly controlling. Healers are often well served to balance their high ideals with the requirements of everyday living. [3]
Healers tend to be flexible, unless one of their values is violated. When their value system is threatened, Healers can become aggressive defenders of their cause, and any project or job that Healers adopt is likely to become one of their causes. Although Healers do not generally focus on specifics, they cover every possible detail with determination and vigor when working on a project that engrosses them.[3]
Healers are often talented writers. Some may be awkward and uncomfortable expressing themselves verbally, but demonstrate a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper. Healers appear frequently in social service professions, such as counseling or teaching.[3]
Almost the very definition of who I am...
Who are u?
 

Heart too big...

I was driving home from clinicals today just completely beat. My mind, body, and soul are exhausted to the point of no return. I have always been told I have a good heart and a kind heart but now I fear that it may have led me to this new batch of trouble I am in. I always want those closest to me to be happy, to have what they need, and to just smile. I try too hard to make that happen and it has cost me big time. Not just financially but emotionally too. I hate to see someone I love in distress it triggers something in me to do all I can, even when I really shouldn't or really can't. I have always been a hopeless romantic in almost any given situation waiting for the silver lining.
I realize now that perhaps (a little too late) there were some who didn't need me to race to the rescue. Not because they didn’t need me, but because I couldn’t afford to do it. Ok partially because I was enabling them to crawl instead of walking for themselves. Lesson learned (I sure hope so)! I can't afford to wait for people to start repaying the favors I bestowed, that was never my intentions in the first place. It just felt really good seeing frowns become smiles. I am an addict for happiness even if I am mooey unhappy! I used to keep a smile on my face no matter what until I really did have something to smile about. (Ask Charlyce) I would smile thru tragedy! Not so much now!
I used to let people believe I was a pessimist but in secret I was always an optimist, waiting on that Hail Mary to save the day. I don't believe in that much these days especially as the world scrambles to keep itself together and the list of "have nots" keeps getting longer I find more comfort in my pessimistic side. At least this way there is some sense of self-preservation even if I find this now dominating side of me repugnant, it's comforting to expect the worst and get the worst. Expecting the best but constantly getting the worse will dull your appetite for "Hail Marys".
I am not bitter; bitter implies anger and I am not angry. I am much more realistic this way at least I think so. Which means my writing will be filled with much more realism and even more hope. Because with characters you can shape them and make them do the things you can't or couldn't without changing your beliefs. As I have been focusing on getting back to the nursing program my writing has taken a backseat BTW! I refuse to purposely write garbage even though I am so close to wrapping up my last story. It means too much to me to just put a bow on garbage and call it mines.
The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised. ~George F. Will, The Leveling Wind

If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say, in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well, this isn't too bad. I don't have my left arm anymore, but at least nobody will ever ask me whether I am right-handed or left-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of "Aaaaah! My arm! My arm!" ~Lemony Snicket

Always borrow money from a pessimist; he doesn't expect to be paid back. ~Author Unknown

Just Thoughts...What's your fantasy?

I was told that a good writer writes every day. I try really hard to write every single day. I worry that as I head back to school for the fall semester I won't find the time. Writing means a lot to me even if no one ever appreciates it. It's cathartic to say the least and expressive to say the most. I have been thru a lot in my 36 years and it would make for some juicy reads but I am not quite ready to spill those beans. I prefer to insert a little of myself in every story I write (unlike Sister Souja) I won't be putting my whole self in my stories.

It's funny I feel like my female characters while flawed are better than me. They are the strong women I want to meet and be around and hope to become. They are intensely passionate, educated, and aware! Their Achilles Heel is usually "Love" a weakness most of us are in denial of possessing. No one wants to admit they are looking for the ONE!

Is that a weakness now? Or worse have we all given up or given in and settled? Oh the horror of that scenario. I refuse to give up on love even though I had to admit to today while talking to my sister there was two tops, men in the state of Michigan I could ever see myself being happy with. However the timing is so off that I think a change of location is in order. The Michigan population is 9,883,640 and I can only name 2 men who I could potentially see myself with TRAGIC!

I guess for now I can write about love and live vicariously thru my imagination and fantasies...

WHAT'S YOUR FANTASY?

Dark Closet pt 2- a little extra

Okay so today I had to hit my bill paying job a little earlier. But I got to stop off at JJs on the way home for a quick bite to eat and two lovely Long Beaches w/ a splash of Peach Schnapps YUM YUM get you some! How was I buzzing off one drink? Not quite sure but the two drinks have definitely got me buzzin and thinking about some alone time with my New Boo my Waterproof Bullet (trust me it has to be waterproof lol)!

A toy seems infinitely better when you compare my choices. Let's see I could go to my Jump Off's but ah that's a problem because he is secretely the kind of guy I would like to end up with or I could go to my neurotic jealous ex's house but do not feel like that drama or I could see if my young tenderoni is available but alas I don't feel like that right now (No CT's~insider)! So my Waterproof bullet is the final and best option! I don't have to worry about it letting me down nor give up my current celibacy what's it been like two months or maybe three wow sucks to be me!! LMAO! Sike no it doesn't just found a fresh pack of AA batteries....GOOD NIGHT! READ ON!
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THE DARK CLOSET PT 2

“Wait please”, I manage to stammer. I am not sure what we are waiting for but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I have been in this closet for over an hour with this man and now we are kissing. Can you say too fast?
                “Wait for what?” He asks this question as he is kissing me again.

“I am not sure why you are kissing me”, I reply breathless.

“I want you so badly. Since we stepped in this closet”, he said kissing me again.

“But I do not know you.” I can’t move my face away from his lips there is nowhere for me to go.

“Yes you do know me.” He pulled me so close I could honestly say I got to know something else. I tried to pull away but I only found the stool as he leaned me down to it. Kissing me was his only goal for the next few minutes and I obliged him. Perhaps I could chalk it up to temporary insanity brought on by a stressful situation. His mouth was just so wonderful and he kissed expertly. 

I tried to find a way to pull myself out of the kisses but I couldn’t I liked them too much. When his hands went to work I tried not to moan but my mouth had other plans. His hands neatly folded down the front of my dress exposing my breasts.  As he toyed with my nipples any restraint or logic I had flew out our little secret closet.  I turned into this aggressive monster snatching his jacket off going for his shirt soon thereafter. He worked on my neck and nipples simultaneously as I peeled him out the shirt. His chest was expansive, strong, and extremely carved. I enjoyed running my hands along the ripples as I went to work on his neck. Which as it turned out was a weak spot for him. His grunts with every kiss only served to inspire more kisses from me. 

His hands were no longer on my nipples which rubbed casually against his chest now. The small of my back, my ultimate weakness, he found it with such ease. I wrapped my arms around his neck bracing myself; the Prada’s could not keep me standing properly. His hands slipped down gripped my ass with some spilling over. I told you I wasn’t fat but I wasn’t skinny either I have some rearrange. I dared my hand to touch him as it leisurely strolled down his chest to his waistband. I allowed my hand to slide down the front panel of his slacks caressing him as I did. He groaned and I quickly withdrew my hand for fear that was going to far. He sensed my hesitation and while I couldn’t visualize his face in the darkness I could feel him boring into me.  He was staring at me no longer kissing me or groping me. I didn’t know what to do so I pulled away thinking the little impromptu session was over. It wasn’t over by far.

Moist lips were on my lips as his hand guided my hand back to the front of his slacks. I hesitated and he helped me relax by moving his mouth to my nipples. I screamed out unable to control the volume of my voice. He moved my hands with no hesitation on my part as I reached for his zipper. I wasn’t sure where I was going with this other than to actually touch him. And then it was decided for me in a matter of minutes. He was in my hands strong, hard, and ready. His hands stopped their exploration of my body to slip my panties down. I tried to protest but it fell on deaf ears. I heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper and I couldn’t stop it now, I didn’t want to.  He lifted me to the stool and wrapped my legs around his waist. I bit my lip as he teased me building the anticipation to an astounding crescendo. I moved my body closer to him the temptation was too great forcing him inside me. We both groaned with that first thrust as he lifted me off the stool completely.

The time for tender kisses and gently stroking was over as he went full caveman on me. I held onto his neck as best I could as he continued his wonderful assault on me. I felt that wave of euphoria you feel right before that big moment as my legs went numb. The shaking and squeezing proved to be his breaking point as he exploded into the condom calling out my name repeatedly. Our bodies kept moving against one another as our mouths reconnected. His tongue was warm with the last remnants of strawberry flavor being absorbed by me. I didn’t want it to end as he pulled out of me, still kissing me. I had no idea how either of us was going to recover from this. We just screwed inside a closet during a hostage situation; surely we are going to hell for that.

After we managed to haphazardly dress I was unable to find the words to describe what just happened. He didn’t know what to say either and for a while we let the darkness do all the talking. His phone ringing was the perfect distraction to the awkwardness.

“Hello this is Officer Roberts. We are clearing the building and our officers will bring you two out. Please do everything they say”, he said confidently. “Just hold tight a few more minutes and this ordeal will be over.”

I felt like a dirty girl. I was so glad he hadn’t called like five minutes ago, that would have been a very ill-timed interruption. I looked at his face still partially hidden by the darkness wondering what this man looked like with a regular sixty watt bulb in use. I wasn’t sure if that made what just happened hotter or if it made me feel sluttier.  I just fucked a virtual stranger in a closet while people’s lives were in jeopardy. Was there anyway to spin this story were I wasn’t a complete skank? Nope! I realized lost in my thoughts that Mr. Mysterious hadn’t said anything. He was so talkative and opinionated earlier now he probably just wanted out of this awkward situation. I made up my mind to leave well enough alone. I wouldn’t pressure him to take this any further than it had already gone. I would mark that down as an adventure for me and leave well enough alone.

It occurred to me when I stopped contemplating this situation I could hear noises emanating beyond our closet. I was grateful we would be free soon and that was what it appeared we both wanted right away. I managed to get my purse and bottle of twenty-four karat Sync in my hands before the door was pulled open. They asked us to raise our hands as they pointed guns at us. We both obeyed as they led us out into a room that was still quite dark. The flashlights led the way as we walked out with me in front. I was eager to snatch a look at him before I planned to walk away. But he beat me too it. Several police officers herded me out of the building and I was taken to a nearby police car for safety. I looked around for him but when I was being honest with myself I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I felt really stupid when every voice that spoke to me caused me to turn abruptly. They weren’t him; he beat it out as fast as he could. Just as well I wouldn’t have known what to say to him anyway.

My phone ringing snapped me back to reality. I answered it quickly knowing it would be Evelyn. A little part of me was hoping by some miracle it was him.

“Are you ok? Where were you when the shit hit the fan?” She questioned quickly.

“Scion invited me to that VIP area and it was dark. I was there with another guy and we heard the commotion and hid in the closet once we heard the gun shots”, I explained.

“Oh my God, are you ok. I was so worried I couldn’t find you.”

                “Yes I am fine. We called the police on his phone and they told us to stay put. We were in that damn closet for almost two hours. He was a nice guy so that made it easier”, I lied, and he was damn terrific.

                “I am so glad you’re okay. Go home and get some rest. Call me and let me know you made it home”, she implored.  I thanked her for her concern and promised to text her the moment I got home.

                Driving home was difficult my mind kept replaying the closet as much as I wanted to let it go I couldn’t. I didn’t remember putting the key into the lock or walking into my apartment.  What I did remember was sinking down into the bubbles of my wonderful tub. I tried erasing my mind as my body tired from stress and sex begged for sleep. I slept fitfully as my brain refused to let go of the act in the closet. I wanted to see his face and have him inside me again.  I woke up wanting dinner, conversation, and sex in a bed with him.  Instead my boss left me a message that I could take the day off after that ordeal. Evelyn had informed him I was trapped inside the whole time they were negotiating with the gang. 

                It turns out that the men who ambushed the party were former friends of the men that them held hostage. They left the gang to do something positive with their lives and incurred the wrath of the remaining members. The police were able to get the recording artist out but they had been beaten. I felt really bad knowing I was hiding in a closet fucking. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to get him off my mind. I decided to write not in my journal but to finish some freelance work with my free paid day off.  I’m so greedy but those new Jimmy Choo shoes are not going to pay for themselves.  Hey I am very good to me, do not judge me. By the time I called in my order for Chinese food it was almost six pm. I was starving but productive, three articles done and sent to the various editors. 

                “Hey just calling to check on you. How are you doing?” Evelyn asked.

                “I am fine. Just working as usual”, I responded.  I poked around my plate of rice while I talked on the phone.  As much as I tried to put him out of my mind he kept resurfacing throughout my day. The guilt was eating me up that I was having sex while those performers were getting pistol whipped.

                “Why are you working on your day off? Geez take a break girl”, Evelyn begged.

                “Evelyn something happened”, I say calmly, “I feel so terrible, well sorta.”

                “What did someone hurt you?” Her voice was frantic with worry.

                “No he definitely didn’t hurt me”, I said smiling slightly.  I relayed the events of the closet to her trying desperately to find some sense of my actions. “I don’t know what came over me Ev.”

                “I do a hard dick and from what it sounds like a good hard dick”, she said crassly.

                “Yeah I had reached that same conclusion. I thought you were going to give me some slack for being in a crisis situation”, I said solemnly.

                “Nope, ok maybe a little but not much. You could have said no and stopped at kissing. He wasn’t going to risk alerting the kidnappers to your location. Do not worry about the artist I am sure Scion is going to milk this whole incident and make a pretty penny.”

                “Of that I have no doubt.  Just can’t believe I went out like that, no dinner, no date, no romance panties off”, I said exasperated. I pushed the plate away eating was not going to happen.

                “Oh I wouldn’t say there was no romance. There sounded like plenty of romance before all the fucking started”, she laughed loudly. “You’re a square I am glad to hear you have a wild streak.”

                “Shut up Ev, this is serious”, I pleaded. I had to get out of my home office I headed to the living room looking for the remote. Perhaps I could fall asleep watching TV and put this behind me.

                “What you did is not the end of the world. You had a one dark stand in the closet big deal. Think of the bright side no awkward encounters or trying to make something that isn’t really there. It was your barest instinct and you went for it. It’s done now move on”, she demanded.

                “It was that good that I can’t Evelyn. I don’t want to be naïve but we definitely had a connection”, I defend.

                “Yes you sure did. You connected your vagina to his penis and moved until orgasm.”

                “Your right I’m over thinking this as only I can do. It was a very fun albeit intense moment. No more, no less. Alright lady I’m going to veg out with a movie. I will see you at work tomorrow”, I said.

                “See you tomorrow my skanky new best friend”, she said roaring with laughter. “I love ya girl.”

                “Love you too see you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone glad that very few people like my parents knew I was involved in that hostage situation otherwise my phone would be blowing up. Instead I got through a whole movie before I received a text message.             I didn’t know what to say but I do now can you meet me for a drink?  Me.  I didn’t know what to say back to that. Of course I wanted to meet him for a drink. Hell, he could have said meet me for a dill pickle and I would want to go. I felt stupid I truly couldn’t remember what he looked like. I sat for a few minutes before he texted back a question mark. How the heck did he get my number? That really didn’t matter I was very glad he had the number.  I finally texted back. What time and where?  I waited for a response and a few minutes later he named a local jazz club that wasn’t too far from my apartment. I agreed to meet him in an hour. Geez what was I going to wear? I wanted to get there earlier than him so he would have to come up to me.

                I put on an ivory gauze pleated chiffon belted skirt and a pink chiffon short sleeve tie belt blouse with pair of pale pink sling backs. The shirt was multilayer so I thought it would be sexier without a bra. I re-thought that as my investments jiggled all the way to the car. I truly hope I didn’t appear desperate. I ran a quick finger through my auburn hair giving it a little lift. It looked purposefully messy which I studied as I applied a thin layer of lip gloss.  My Honda Accord made it in record time to the Music Note, the jazz club he mentioned. The valet took my keys as a casually dressed doorman opened the door for me. The music poured out but it was going unappreciated as the bar was virtually empty. I figured it was still quite early and the after work crowd had just cleared way for the night crowd.  I took a seat at the bar inspecting the remaining patrons. I was sure about one thing he wasn’t here yet.

                Thirty minutes later I paid my check for my two Absolute and cranberries feeling totally defeated as I made my way to the door. How could I have been so stupid to think that was him? For all I know it was a joke from Scion and I am now amongst their hoes. I tried not to let one tear fall as I handed the valet my ticket.

                “I guess you don’t have your phone on you”, the voice said smoothly. I waited to answer feeling stupid, very stupid. “I called to say I was running late.”

                I turned slowly mostly because of fear but because I wanted to remember this moment. And there he was I didn’t recognize his face but I recognized his lips, his hands, and the rest of him without even touching him. I started at the Gucci loafers before making my way to his blue/gray Armani suit which was neatly pressed as was the ash gray shirt underneath. I tried to stop my mind from exploring “underneath” as I took in the rest of him. Chocolate lips and hazel eyes caught the rest of my attention as I waved away the valet reaching for his hand.

                “I thought you were making me suffer cruelly like Mary Ann Dashwood”, I replied smiling. I wasn’t sure if he knew what I looked like or not but he knew who I was which made me feel much more relaxed as he took my hand. Inside we found a less obvious spot at the end of the bar.  I sipped my Absolute and cranberry slowly as I had already had two before. He sipped his Remy Martin on the rocks gingerly without saying much.

                “Are you disappointed?” He asked after a few uncomfortable minutes of silence. 

                “Absolutely not! What I am is confused? I am not sure how we could have what we had in that closet and not be able to speak outside it.” I usually had no problems holding a conversation.

                “This is why I didn’t come up to you at party. I don’t know how to do this”, he admitted.

                “Are you playing a game with me? We talked like old friends in that closet”, I said confused.

                “Yes we did in the complete darkness. I was able to be myself.” He looked at his drink and then back to me. I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or pulling my leg.

                “Seriously? I wouldn’t think you had problems talking to any woman. You’re beautiful.”

                “Believe it or not I am shy. I saw you when you came in with that lady in the flower dress. I wanted to talk to you so badly but I didn’t know what to say. I asked Scion to get you in the dark room. He thought he might want you for himself and I swore I would make him a poor man.”

 I can’t help but laugh at the last line. He was so damn fine I couldn’t believe he would have a problem talking to women.  I don’t know why but I find myself moving closer to him. I want to make him remember me from the closet and not clam up on me. He tried to compose himself and find his bearings when I touch his hand gently.

“You can talk to me. Anyone who can recognize a Jane Austen reference is cool with me”, I say nicely moving closer to him. I figure we have already bumped pelvises it’s too late to keep up pretenses. He moves nervously the closer I get and I can only imagine when he is at work he is a beast.

“Really”, he stammered rather late. “Yes really”, I responded moving his hand altogether so I can stand directly in front of him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No. Okay I am just a little nervous”, he says shaking his head. “I don’t think I can do this. I am not that confident guy you met in the closet. I don’t know how to date. I have been with only one woman and that was my ex-wife.” He stands up taking out his wallet to pay the check but i stop him.

“There is nothing more for you to do. We have already been introduced. You have already shown me that you’re charming and funny. Now all we do is keep that going until we decide to do something else”, I say in my most reassuring voice. His finely chiseled face looks pained. I pull him away from the stool taking him to the back of the bar where it is darker. I can see him and he can see me but there are shadows bouncing off the wall.  I lean in and kiss his lips, not bust slobs but a nice kiss.

“Do you remember my lips?” I ask pulling away from the kiss.

“I couldn’t forget them if I wanted to. Not that I want to”, he said as his voice moves up and down in volume.  He silently berated himself for that sentence.

“Good I wouldn’t want you to”, I say as I take my hand and put it in his hand lacing our fingers together. “Do you remember my hands?”  He nods unable to form the word yes. I move my body close to his wrapping my arms around his neck. “Do you remember my arms around your neck?” He nods yes again and I kiss him. This time it resembles the kisses from the closet. When he realizes he has let his guard down some he fumbles the kiss away. I can see he is ready to bolt out the door but I don’t release my hold on him.

“Sorry I told you I am so new at this”, he apologizes.

“Do you want to leave?” I ask him because he has a pained expression on his face. He nods the affirmative. I pay the tab and we walk back out to the valet to retrieve our cars.

“Are you going to go home?” I ask in my most seductive voice. I can feel him looking at me.

“Yes it’s getting late and I have meeting in the morning”, he said honestly.

“Can you follow me somewhere first? I promise I will have you back in a little while”, I ask using the sad puppy dog eyes.  He reluctantly agrees to follow me. I am happy to see him in my rearview mirror as I drive back to my apartment. I know it’s crazy but I want him to be comfortable and my apartment is just that.

“Is this your apartment?” He asked slightly panicked. I nod yes taking his hand almost forcing him to my door. His hesitation is enough to stop me and I turn to him.

“I just want to talk and I think you will be more comfortable here than at that bar.” I don’t give him a chance to say no and pull him into my apartment. The ride up the elevator is quiet and I point out my apartment before I unlock the door. When he takes a seat I fix him a cognac from my little bar. He gladly accepts the glass as I pour myself a wine.  I sit across from him as he sips his drink wondering what she did to this man.

“I am sorry I must really make that guy who talked nothing but of himself look really good right now”, he said finally. I laughed and shook my head “no”.

“That guy was the worst and this is nowhere near the horror of that date”, I explain. I moved next to him hoping I wouldn’t scare him but I just wanted to touch him.

“Please do not tell your friends about me”, he begged.

“Please tell me you are not still married”, I said in horror. He put his glass down quickly on the coffee table, “Hell no, I am not still married. I meant that to say they will definitely laugh.”

“Whew, you had me worried for a second”, I say picking up his available hand. “I like you and I am not just talking about sex. I liked you before I saw you remember?”

“Yes I do. I am not that suave brother you met in that closet. I had all the confidence in the world in that closet because I didn’t have to face you.”

“But am I not what you imagined?” I point purposely to my shirt.  I can be naughty when I want to be. He tried not to stare too hard when he does look. I watch him shift nervously again.

“I saw you first walking in and you walked right past me without noticing me”, he said.

“I was trying to get myself together for another rapper-liquor release party. I am always hit on by the professional t-shirt thrower with the gold teeth in the front. Out of the whole entourage, that’s the guy who wants my number.  When I decline I am called names like stuck up and bourgeoisie.” He couldn’t help laughing at that image, not only could he picture it but he knew that guy. The laughter helped him relax enough to hold my hand instead of me holding his.

“I don’t usually attend these things I prefer to stay in the back but I am tired of being alone”, he admitted. “I want to get out their again and meet people. I feel like my previous relationship has robbed me of enough time.”

“Then get out there and meet people. Get a fur coat made out of some ridiculously expensive animal and some bling bling. With your good looks you will be beating them off with a stick”, I say giggling.

“Easier said than done but I am trying. I am sitting here with you on your couch”, he trails off as his nerves reappear. They quickly disappear when he starts kissing me. I of course being Susie Slut do not object and take every kiss he gives me. I taste the cognac on his tongue as he gives me that as well. His hands aren’t sure what to do so I straddle him on the couch. His hands find my hips which I move slowly over him as he continues to kiss me. If he is playing a game like “shy brother” from Five Heartbeats he deserves me as a prize because I have fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

He easily unknots the tie on my shirt unraveling it slowly driving me insane. I honestly didn’t bring him back here for sex but uh, okay. My brain stops lecturing itself when I feel his hands on my nipples. That familiar feeling comes rushing back to body as my lower region heats up considerably. He applies more pressure to my nipples and I cry out.

“Stand up”, he whispers in my ear.  I obey him and stand before him. He pulls at the ties on my skirt as it falls to the floor. I am vulnerable in front of him in only an ivory thong and my pink sling backs. He slips each foot out of its shoe and I find myself shaking a little whenever he touches me.  He takes his suit jacket off stopping to run his hands up my legs as my knees buckle.  I feel his warm lips on my thighs then up to my belly button where I feel moist tongue on me.  He stands abruptly and I look up to him biting my bottom lip as a smile spreads across his handsome face.  He’s not nervous any more I can see it when he loosens his tie. I finish taking it off then unbutton his shirt admiring his chiseled frame in the light.  He slides my panties down and I step out of them unsure of what to do next. I feel nervous now and unsure as he admires my body.

His smile is almost greedy when he lays me down on the neon pink comforter on my bed. I undo the button and zipper on his slacks while he kisses my neck moving rapidly to my breast taking his time there. The only thing that stops the attention on my breasts is when I hold him in my hand. He gasps as I stroke him gently and then faster it makes him crazy. He is on his knees in front of me I reach for a condom in my nightstand handing it too him. I slide his slacks down to his knees and finally his black Tommy Hillfiger briefs and it’s too much for us both to be so exposed. The condom is on in record time and he is inside me even faster. I call out his name as he attacks me with no intentions of letting up. His hands are on my shoulders securing me to one spot as he repeatedly pounds into me. I cry out unable to form English words of any comprehension. It drives him deeper into me but not to be undone my body bucks against him. He grunts and growls as I do so holding tightly still to my shoulders. I can see it happening.  I orgasm as my body furiously shakes under its power. He follows suit loud as he actually picks up speed and I come again as he does. The only things moving in the room are my quivering legs and our hearts beating rapidly. His hand eventually runs through my hair as he kisses me.  And then it happens. He talks to me for hours with the lights on.

The Dark Closet

To say I was tired of dating was an understatement, probably of the year. The last date was with an accountant in a friend’s firm. He was a beautiful chocolate man, well groomed, and extremely educated. Sounds perfect right? Well let’s start he was also pompous and pretentious with just a hint of being facetious. The entire conversation was about him, him, and oh him. I felt like a job interviewer having only asked one question. “Linda of course told me a few things about you. Tell me something she probably didn’t”, I asked displaying a bright smile. He told me alright, for two straight hours! Thank God he had to pause and eat intermittently or I would have died of boredom.  When we got to the movies he had the nerve to “shh” me when I only asked if we could switch seats. After the movie he apologized if that’s what you want to call it. “Sorry I like to watch movies in peace to absorb every little detail. Just remember that for next time”, he said, waving his finger at me. Next time? Did I just hallucinate? He probably didn’t remember my name or what I did for a living because he never asked. I thought maybe I was being too hard on him but then he said, “I know you probably want to kiss me but I am not really into kissing so a handshake will have to suffice.” Kiss you? Kick you is more like it. I just nodded and walked to my car. That’s right the chump didn’t even walk me to my car.

That type of date has been the bane of my existence.  In the last year I have had seven dates here is how they breakdown. One was missing two of his show teeth, the ones in the front. Two were nice but when their angry “baby’s mamas” played on her phone for several days at a time sending her pictures of them in compromising positions I backed off. One was just like the date described above unbearable. And less we forget the obvious gay guy who has since become one of my good friends. He was trying to be straight for his parents but it was obvious when he actually met two guys on our date. The last man I dated for three months was almost quite perfect but it didn’t work out. He wasn’t ready to settle down and I didn’t want to be a part of his harem.  He said, “I am not ready to commit to just one woman. Life is short and I am enjoying it. I would like to still see you and be with you.” He had the nerve to wink his eye at me, the sex was good but it wasn’t good enough to be in line with God knows how many women.

I thought about all this as I wrote in my journal, something I have done for over five years. Since graduating from college I have wanted to document my life. Now as I sit here sipping a Chai tea in a Starbucks with my laptop sitting before me I wonder what’s wrong with me. I am twenty-seven years old and I work as a writer for a popular magazine. I am in charge of the entertainment section of the magazine and two other writers. I also do some freelance writing on the side which gives me extra money. After this last date my new past time I have decided will be collecting shoes. I have always loved a well-made shoe especially putting it together with the right outfit.  After shedding my freshman fifteen I am finally comfortable with my size eight body. No I am not fat but I am not skinny either. I have real woman curves and thanks to a little surgical intervention I have breasts that sing touch me.  I consider myself “brown skinned” right in the middle of light and dark, a bit of mocha.  My skin compliments my naturally reddish brown hair that I enhanced with a little auburn and cut relatively short. I hate blending in with the crowd but I do not want to stand out so much people are scared of me.  So there it is in a nutshell. I am a professional brown skinned woman who has both education and decent looks but alas single as the day is long.

Don’t think I am one of those women whose biological clock is ticking. Nope, not me, I want children someday but I am enjoying my time.  I am not racing down the aisle hoping for a few carats on my finger either. I would just like to have someone that I can love and be around. I hate going to company or business functions solo, shallow I know but true. But more importantly I hate, and I know it sounds corny, not having anyone to share all this love with. I have seen enough bad relationships to know that if the love isn’t genuine it will end in disaster. I know I am a great catch so why doesn’t anyone want to catch me? That’s a question I have tried to answer and even when I am being brutally honest with myself, I come up with minor attributes I need to work on.

Oh happy day! My job is launching a new ad campaign for some new rapper endorsed liquor. The events are usually quite fun but I always end up getting called “bourgeois” by someone in the entourage because I don’t want to leave with him.  I usually just try and stick to my friend Evelyn who is happily married to a very busy doctor.  Evelyn is one of our copyright editors who double as my best friend. Some how she managed not only to stand by her college boyfriend through four years of undergrad and four years of medical school, but through his philandering. I had my doubts when they got married but to my shock and surprise he has been the model husband. I do not; I repeat do not use this as a method of finding a man. If you need to sleep around I am out, I do not have that kind of patience to wait until it’s “out of your system”.  So Evelyn will be my pretend girlfriend should I need to make myself completely unavailable.

Tonight’s event requires me to be sexy but not skanky.  I slipped into a Dolce &Gabbanared silk babydoll belted tank dress and my favorite and only pair of Prada black patent leather platform t-strap sandals feeling very sexy.  Before leaving my little two bedroom apartment I spray on a little classic Chanel No. 5. Evelyn looked stunning in a Taylorcitrus floral detailed silk-linen sheath dress with a pair of MiuMiu yellow slingbacks.  Her beautiful long black hair was pulled into what looked like a purposely disheveled chignon.  “You look gorgeous”, I said giving her a quick hug.

“Thanks looking pretty hot yourself little mama”, Evelyn replied.  They made their usual rounds to the editor and a few other key personal before being introduced to the sponsor of the liquor. The new tequila was called, Synchronicity, or Sync for short it came in an hourglass shaped bottle to hype up the product image.  The rapper that was responsible for the liquor was a really big name this time. Scion, got his start on the Brooklyn streets then traveled all over the country looking for someone to sign him meeting up with the worst the industry had to offer. He finally headed back home started his own label and shot to stardom. Now as a “retired” music mogul surrounded by his music minions he was releasing what would prove to be another financial success.

“It is nice to finally meet you”, he said extending a bejeweled hand to me. “I really like the piece you did on my clothing line it was nice how you tied in the Sync with that as well.”

“You’re welcome. I had help from two other writers. We thought it would be nice to tie all of your many entrepreneurial ventures into a nice full feature in the entertainment section.  I am glad you enjoyed it”, she said beaming with editorial pride.

“Did you get a bottle of Sync for your table?” One of his closer minions quickly placed a bottle in his hand to pass to me.

“Uh yes we did”, she said to Evelyn who nodded dutifully. “Thank you.”

“Well here take one of my special twenty-four carat bottles. It has flecks of edible twenty-four gold inside”, he insisted. “It’s the least I can do for that wonderful article and beautiful smile.”  Was he flirting with me? Wow that was a new one. I was totally not interested but I have to admit having a zillion dollar music mogul flirt with you was really nice.

“Why thank you, on both accounts”, I said quickly as Evelyn darted off to talk to another writer on our staff.  Scion motioned for me to join his private party which was secluded away from the main party. I didn’t want to be rude but I was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well. I tried to think positive and enjoy the attention. Scion introduced me around and a few of the artist that I wrote about eagerly shook my head for the awesome reviews. I genuinely liked the new artists he had on contract; they gave me an old hip hop feel. They weren’t full of goofy hooks and represented the throwback sixteen bars from the old school hip hop I love so much.  Scion walked me to the exclusive area that was dark with only a few individuals lingering around. I took a seat on an oversized loveseat alone because Scion was called away back to the main party.  I figured I would wait fifteen minutes offer an excuse and get back to the bigger party. The problem was that it was very dark in there I could barely see my watch. I wanted to pull my cell phone out of my purse but it appeared that the few people around liked the darkness and wanted it to stay like that.

“Are you trying to figure out how long you have been sitting in the dark?” A smooth voice asked.

“Uh yes whoever said that”, I replied nervously.  I tried to stand but it seemed as if it got even darker within those few minutes. I also thought I heard some moaning I really wanted it then but I had no idea were to go. I felt a hand touch me and jumped almost dropping my twenty-four carat Sync bottle. 

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you. I can help you get out of here if you want me too”, the voice said softly. He was too close, I could feel his breath on my neck, and smell strawberries. He was eating strawberries before he came over to me, whoever he was.  I tried reaching for him but I ended up touching his shoulder my aim was too high. I pulled back quickly slightly scared not knowing where to move.

“How are you going to lead me out of here if I can’t see anything?” I said in a hoarse whisper.

“I know a way out if you trust me”, the voice said calmly. “I am trustworthy just so you know.”

“Yeah I am sure you are; just get me out of here. I think someone is having sex in here”, I said tight lipped.  I heard him laugh slightly before taking my free hand guiding me away.

“I am kind of glad I can’t see that”, he laughed again.  They moved around several pieces of furniture before coming to a door.  She heard him jiggle the door knob with no success.

“I don’t think you know where you are even going”, I hissed, snatching away my hand.

“I thought this was the right place. I am sorry”, he said grabbing my freehand back. I almost dropped the bottle again. I tried putting it in my purse but it stuck out it was too big. Before I could contemplate that further there was a huge commotion from the other side of the room. We could both hear yelling and shouting coming from the main party area. He magically found a way to get the door knob open and we both ducked inside the small closet. The commotion outside the room continued and I was pretty sure whoever was sexing in that room was rudely interrupted.  I scrambled for my cell phone but there were zero bars in this tight closet.  I was scared and tried not to panic it would use the available oxygen in this closet to fast.

“Oh my God, do you have a phone with reception”, I yelled. “Please find out what’s going on.”

I saw the light on his phone pop on and he dialed calmly. I tried to make out his face but it wasn’t enough light and we were much too close.

“Hey man what is going on out there?” He asked sternly trying to control the volume of his voice. I was close enough to hear the voice whisper back that there were people in the building with guns holding a few of Scion’s artist’s hostage. Apparently when they descended upon the building they let everyone go except the five men.  Scion’s security guard hadn’t found me or the guy so they locked the door just in case we were still inside.

“This is Officer Roberts. If you have a good hiding spot just stay put until we defuse this situation”, the officer said taking the phone from his friend. “They do not need any additional hostages.”

“We have to stay here in this tight ass closet?” I asked angrily. 

“We will have you guys out as soon as we can please stay were you are”, the officer insisted.

I tried to think positive; at least we were sort of safe in this closet no one knew we were here. I didn’t have to use the bathroom and I wasn’t hungry more positives.  Mr. Mysterious here still smelled like strawberries so that was good. He had reception in this closet so they knew were here.  I was running out of positives in my head so I rested my brain hoping for the best outcome.

“So how did you end up in what is now considered a hostage situation?” He asked nicely.

“I am a writer for the magazine. I did a full entertainment piece featuring all of Scion’s many financial ventures”, I said softly. “How about you?”

“I am a business partner of Scion’s. I guess you can say I manage the money.”

“Oh glad I didn’t say anything derogatory about Scion, not that I would have.” I wanted to look somewhere else but I didn’t have anywhere to really move. I was able to get some use what appeared to be a broken stool to lean on to take the pressure off my feet some. Gotta love Prada, their shoes are so beautiful but no good in a hostage situation.  He kindly moved back as much as he could to give me a little more room.

“Thanks”, I said very grateful. I refused to take my shoes off no idea what was on this floor.

“Do write anywhere else?” He was trying to keep me calm and my mind off the gun wielding maniacs beyond the door.

“I freelance write for a few other magazine so I can afford shoes that are no good in hostage situations”, I said joking. He laughed and continued asking me questions. It didn’t take me long to let the hostage situation handle itself, my worrying wasn’t doing it any justice.  I asked him questions some of which he evaded by answering with a question. Automatically we spoke in lowered voices no need to alert anyone we were in this closet. I had to control my giggles when he made me laugh. He was very funny without trying to be.

“Your boyfriend is going to be mad not being able to reach you”, he said casually.

“That’s an easy one. I don’t have a boyfriend. Single, single to mingle”, I joked. “No seriously I do not have a boyfriend.”

“I find that hard to believe. There must someone making you smile”, he inquired further.

“Nope. The last date I went on he forgot to come up for air talking about himself. He didn’t even remember my name”, I explained. “It was a disaster to say the least. So I am done for now.”

“No more dating because of one bad date. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Not because of one bad date try several, ten. It was worse”, I said. I relayed the entire date to him and he concluded that maybe I should lay off the dating scene for a while to recover. We kept up the conversation until I tried to turn the tables and exam his love life. He clammed up immediately.

“So how long have you been married”, I asked knowingly.

“I am not married. I am divorced actually going on six months now Miss Know-it-all”, he answered.

“I was so close! So are you seeing someone”, I asked feigning interest. I could barely make out his face but I liked talking to him. Leave it to me to like someone I couldn’t pick out of a line up. He finally relented and relayed the details of his divorce and I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. It appears Scion not only was a brand but he was a bastard as well.

“I am not mad at him for that really. My wife should have stayed faithful to me, she feel for all the fake hype and attention. He did me a favor really”, he said.

“Bullshit you believe that completely. You didn’t want to punch him at all for sleeping with your wife? What are you some kind of saint?”

“Ok I did want to hit him but what good would that have done. I am in charge of all of his money so I could do more damage than a punch”, he explained. “In the end I just let it go. I realized that women do not want a good man. They want some thug that’s going to put them in a video and give them diamonds.”

“What the hell? That’s not true of all women. I most certainly do not want a thug and I only want a few diamonds”, I said with a slight smile. He shifted uncomfortably and I offered him the opportunity to switch so he could sit on the stool thing my feet weren’t hurting any more. He declined and tried to appear as if he was fine. The light from my phone was no help in the dark closet I could still barely make out his face. We wanted to conserve the battery on his phone so the police could reach us if necessary. It felt like we had been in the closet for hours but in reality it had barely been a half hour.

“So what do you want in a partner?” I thought about that question and realized I hadn’t covered this topic in my journal. I would surely do so as soon as possible.

“I want someone who knows who he is first. I want a man who is not afraid to laugh, be laughed at, or make me laugh. I want a man who wants to be loved and can give it back without force.”

“That’s not too much. Is that all?”

“I just want someone who is ready to be in a relationship and put forth the effort with grace not pressure or force. Hopefully all the other things will fall in place.”

“What other things?” He had what I thought was a puzzled look on the part of his face that I could see. It was the first time I noticed his lips, full and supple. “Stop that”, I chided myself.

“Well for starters he will know how to pay attention, listen, and be a good friend to me. He will also know what I like intimately speaking and what I don’t like.”

“What is intimately speaking?” He said in a mock of my voice. “We are adults speak.”

“He will know how to touch me and if he doesn’t he will be eager to learn”, I said blushing.

“Really and how do you like to be touched? Sorry too personal. Skip that question. What else will this man possess? I haven’t heard you mention anything about his money or car.”

“Thank you I will definitely skip that question. I am not going to pretend when it comes to a job. I don’t need him to be wealthy just have his own job and car. Is it too much to ask that he bring at least what I bring to the table?”

“Double standards! Women can bring nothing to the table and get married right away.”

“Isn’t that the guys fault not the woman’s. If you accept a woman who brings nothing to the table then you were prepared to take care of her. I am not a gold digger if I want my partner to have at least what I have which isn’t much.”

“Fair enough but seriously how many women think they should bring a lot to the table?” His voice rose slightly I knew his wife had been a “homemaker” when they got married.

“I can only speak for myself. I bring a decent career and the ability to contribute to the table”, I said honestly. “Other women do what works for them. I like having my own but usually that means I end up on my own. Men do not like women who are independent. You liked helping the damsel in distress.”

“Who me? No I thought I was getting a partner for life someone to grow old with. Instead I got this demanding, needy, cheating shell of a woman I could barely recognize”, he said defensively.

“No part of you thought you were rescuing her and providing her with more than she could get on her own. Did she work before or after you were married?”

“Ok if we are being honest. I have to say I liked being the breadwinner in the house and she didn’t work after we were married. I was just being the man. You know king of my castle type stuff”, he said smoothly.

“And you got a queen just what you wanted. Men say they want women to evolve in theory but no they want us to sit around dependent on them and then complain when it gets to be too much.”

“Wow you are highly opinionated and by no means did I want her to just sit around and do nothing. I had hoped she was preparing our home for a family”, he believed with some hurt.

“So independent women ruin the fantasy of the castle? Men want a woman they can control and manipulate by being the sole breadwinner. She becomes dependent on you and you decide you don’t like if after a while.”

“Well what is there for a man to do for a woman who has everything she needs? If a woman is too independent she doesn’t need a man really.  I don’t want her to forget how to do everything for herself. Before I knew it we had a housekeeper and she never cooked any more”, he stammered defensively.

“Ah ha we get down to it. So if I can care for myself then the man has no place. If I cannot care for myself then he has a place until he is tired of that place. And y’all call women drama queens”, I retort.

“No but men and women have their places whether you want to admit it or not”, he irritably.

“How long were you married?” I was starting to feel sorry for him; this subject was definitely sensitive for him. I could understand his hesitancy in discussing it so soon after his divorce.

“We were married for five years. Three of which were pretty nice. The last two was a desperate attempt to hold on to what we had lost. Then she finished by completely losing her mind and sleeping with my client, Scion.”

“Sorry about that. Did you have children?” I felt like I was stepping into dangerous territory.

“No we didn’t and maybe I was guilty of kinda wanting to be her sole provider. So let’s get back to you and your dateless life”, he said happily changing the subject.

“There is nothing else to say. I will lose my bloom and end up a spinster like Eleanor”, I said quoting one of my favorite books Sense and Sensibility.

“Ah she is a Jane Austen fan”, he replied. I could barely contain my joy. He actually knew the reference my heart fluttered a bit. I tried to reign it in I was still in a hostage situation but this was the best conversation I had with the opposite sex in quite a while.

“I am impressed. Yes I am a huge Jane Austen fan. I re-read her religiously”, I say smiling in the dark closet. There were very few men I could remember who even knew who Jane Austen was.

“I have to confess I never read the books but I do like the movies”, he admitted. “That’s how love should be, chased, demanded, and then guaranteed.”

“I agree that she knows love but I think she was a bit of a fledgling feminist. Her female characters were much stronger than the women around them and they weren’t afraid to demand love”, I say knowingly.

“But the women in her books are damsels in distress. The Dashwood sisters are poor with their father’s death and left to wither in a cottage”, he said boastfully.

“They weren’t necessarily unhappy they just hated losing the things they held dear and it wasn’t money”, I say not believing I am having a debate in a closet about Jane Austen.

“Ok so you don’t want a man with money. You want a man who gets to know you and knows how to love you. Am I forgetting something? Oh he has to make you laugh, right?”

“Check, check, and check.” My hand makes imaginary check marks in the air as I speak. Before I can say anything else he is on me. I can feel his lips on mines as my brain struggles to comprehend. His hands are around my waist and I can feel him against me. I am no longer being supported by the stool. I feel light-headed and I do not stop him from kissing me. I absolutely do not know why I don’t stop him. It’s because his mouth feels fabulous on mines. His tongue is warm against my own and I can taste the faint hint of strawberries. It isn’t until my knees weaken that I pull out some restraint although there isn’t far to go in this closet.

WRITING AT MIDNIGHT

IT'S MIDNIGHT AND I AM HOME FROM WORK. SORRY TO BE WRITING IN ALL CAPS JUST EASIER FOR ME AT THIS HOUR LOL..


Ok that's being lazy I won't do that to anyone who reads this. I decided to write this blog to help me with the writing process. As much as i want to become a nurse the desire to write is so overwhelming. When I get a story trapped in my head I can't let it go my brain just keeps adding to the story, visualizing the characters, and giving them life. It becomes almost unbearable because I can't just write what's in my head I need whatever comes out in Microsoft Word to be good. I check facts, get inspiration from pictures, and I'm constantly proofreading. I know I don't write in the traditional novel format with all the grammar in the proper place but I write with something better, I honestly write from my heart.

I want the characters I have created to be really human: flawed and uncertain. As I continue to write I want them to do the one thing we all wish we could do every day. I want them to learn from their mistakes. I want them to become better, better than me.

I am in love with love, while I do not think that I will ever find the kind of love I am looking for I am hopeful that I can give that kind of love not only to my children but to my characters. I am undoubtedly the most confused optimistic pessimistic romantic you will ever meet. I believe that there is someone for everyone to love however the infinitesimal chance that you will find that person is what gives me my pessimistic quality.

So I hope you will read this blog and take this journey with me as I try to officially make it as a writer...