7 comments/ 4862 views/ 2 favorites Light Skin, Long Hair By: sunsetmimosa Snap! Alexis posed for yet another selfie, this time pouting, showing off her plump, juicy lips, wearing her signature pink color. The light shade complimented her yellow-golden skintone very well. Her dense head of long natural curls was styled up into a bun. She was wearing a skintight hot pink dress and was all primped up and ready to go to the nightclub with her friends, who would be coming by her apartment any minute. Right as she was snapping another, her friend Bria walked right in. Apparently, she hadn't used the doorbell. "Bitch!" she called playfully. "I know yo' ass is not in here taking another selfie!" "Shut up, bitch!" Alexis yelled back, laughing. "You know I'm the selfie queen." She posed for another, making the obnoxious "duck face" this time, just to spite her friend. Bria shook her head and walked into the kitchen. "So you know we turnin' up, right?" Alexis could hear Bria shuffling through her kitchen cabinets. "What you got in here?" "Smirnoff and Everclear. Wait for Janelle to get here before you get anything, though." Alexis's well-lit bathroom made for the perfect picture-taking studio – there was no need to even add a filter. She chose the best shot of the crop she had taken tonight, which was one that showed just the right amount of her ample cleavage, and posted it to Instagram, with a cute caption to accompany it. The doorbell rang. Alexis primped her hair one last time, and then stood up to take a final look at herself in her full-length mirror. Alexis stood at a respectable height of 5'6", but with her nearly 5-inch heels, she looked even more striking. Alexis had a body type that was often referred to as "thick" in the black community – with a great DD bust, thick hips and thighs, and big, juicy behind. Her figure was the one most idolized by rappers, whose adoration of a full, round behind was so pronounced in the lyrics of their music. Satisfied with her appearance, she headed out to the living room. "Yaaasssss!" hollered her friend Janelle, looking her friend over and snapping her fingers for effect. "You look fabulous!" "Don't I?" said Alexis, twirling around. "Work it!" Bria laughed. "Okay, let's not pump up her ego anymore than it already is. Let's have some drinks." "I have Smirnoff and Everclear," said Alexis. "Smirnoff," said Janelle. Bria nodded her head in agreement. "Alright," said Alexis, going to retrieve the bottles. The vodka was a sweet-flavor variety, so there was no need to mix. She got them three glasses, and they all poured their drinks. They sat in the living room sipping before heading out, a practice known as "pre-gaming," which was intended to save money by making expensive club drinks unnecessary. Alexis looked down to her phone, and checked her Instagram feed. In just ten minutes, she had gotten 70 "likes" on her photo already, and several comments from guys saying how fine they thought she was. Satisfied, Alexis put her phone back down on the table and finished her drink. She looked both of her friends over. Bria was about an inch shorter than Alexis, with a curvaceous figure. She had brown skin and short, natural hair that was just long enough for her to pull up in a puff at the top of her head. She was somewhat tomboyish, the exact opposite of Alexis, and enjoyed playing basketball and other sports. This figured into her style as well – she normally wore jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket, and always wore large hoop earrings. She rarely wore bright or girly colors. Tonight, she was wearing a dark blue dress that showed off her athletic figure well. Janelle was what most would describe as "cute," having a short, petite frame with a nice shape, caramel skin, shoulder-length straightened hair, and big, pretty brown eyes. She wore a deep purple dress and red lipstick. Though they were not as hot as her, they weren't bad accompaniments for her on outings. It was important to Alexis to have friends that looked good enough for her be happy to be seen with them, but not so good that they threatened her status as the most attractive in the group. But that was an extremely rare situation for her anyway, and it certainly didn't apply with these girls. As the one with the lightest skin, the longest hair, and the most bangin' body of the trio, Alexis was more than confident in her position as the alpha girl. "Alright, let's go," Alexis said, putting the glasses and bottle away. The girls left the apartment and climbed into Alexis's car, where they headed off to the club. Once they got there, Alexis checked her Instagram feed one last time before heading inside. 200 likes. Yup, this was going to be a great night. "Alright, Jake, we're going to have you cover the Sanders story in the upcoming edition," said Susan Barnes, head editor at the newspaper. "We know how much you love politics." Everyone in the boardroom chuckled as Jake mouthed a silent "Yes!" and pumped his fist. "Mallory, you're going to go on location to St. Mary's high school and interview some students face to face on how the teacher scandal is affecting them." Mallory timidly nodded toward her boss at the head of the table. "Mr. Allendale, our business guy," said Susan, looking at the young man who sat to the right of her at the table. "I want you to cover the story on the new development near the mall. Get both perspectives. Local residents that are opposed, and the business interests that support it." "Sounds great. Will do," Allendale responded. "And Jasmine. Last but not least," Susan addressed Jasmine Moore with a chiding smile. "We're going to have you follow up with the diversity at Hilton Academy story. Get stats on student backgrounds – race, and socioeconomics. Include a few interviews, especially from the minority students. Then, get a little info for comparison on Southern." "Alright. I can do that," said Jasmine, not showing any signs of emotion, but inside feeling frustrated. "Yes. Stories like that sell big. They're of great interest to the community," said Susan. "Alright! Well, everyone's got their assignments, so, does anyone have any questions? If not, get to work!" Jasmine sighed as everyone got up from the table. At age 22, she was a recent college grad and one of the youngest journalists now working at the major city newspaper. It had always been her dream to become a journalist. She had majored in journalism at her alma mater, a prestigious historically black college, and had landed a coveted position at one of the nation's most influential newspapers. It was a dream come true. But sometimes dreams came at a price. As the only black woman on her department's staff, she sometimes felt like she got pigeonholed into only doing "black" stories. There was nothing wrong with that, per se, but she got the feeling that most of the time, the paper did not intend for these stories to be done with the black community in mind. Rather, they were done either for the paper to drive home some point about race relations in the city, such as "blacks are more likely to commit crimes," or "blacks score lower on standardized tests," or to stir up controversy about race issues, and sell papers. The assignment she had been given today, she surmised, was one of the latter. Hilton Academy was the city's most elite prep school. It was very highly selective and was known to turn out students who then went on to attend some of the best colleges in the nation. The angle of the story was that there was a selection bias against minority and low-income students, and that perhaps the school should look into an affirmative action policy to increase diversity. It was the kind of controversial story that would surely stir up emotion and get people talking – and papers flying off shelves (or read online). Chatter broke out as people started to disperse. "Yeah, I guess they're going to need a 50 minority minimum if they want to keep their funding," Jasmine overheard someone snicker behind her. She turned around to see Phillip Allendale and his buddy George Stevens sharing a chuckle. "Oh, hi, Jasmine," Phillip said, not-so-discreetly looking her over. "I guess you got the pothole story again, huh?" Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Again? For your information, Phillip, covering the African-American Art History Museum's fiftieth anniversary was not a pothole story." Jasmine threw her purse over her shoulder as she walked past Phillip and George, toward the door. "Well, excuse me," he said, following behind. "Oh, come on, Britt. You know you don't want to cover stories like that. You know you want to chase the big time news." "Actually, I am happy covering stories that are of interest to my people," said Jasmine. She wasn't about to let Phillip Allendale know how she felt about the assignments she was given. "Okay, relax. You know what I'm saying." "Yup," said Jasmine, continuing to walk without looking back at him, as if his words were having no effect on her. "Besides, does affirmative action really benefit the black community? I mean, really. Think about it. When things are just handed out to someone, does it really help them in the long run? You've heard that saying, teach a man to fish? Think about it!" Jasmine sighed again as she rounded the corner to her office. "Have a good day, Phillip." As they walked away, Jasmine glanced up and looked at Phillip. He was, without a doubt, the best looking man on their staff – tall, with an athletic build and WASP-y good looks. He was obviously from money; had probably attended elite prep schools all his life, then an Ivy League college, and now he was a young hot shot in the firm, poised to become the next big name in journalism. Shaking her head, Jasmine entered her office and closed the door behind her. In doing so, she got a good glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror hanging behind her door. Jasmine was tall – about 5'8". She had a medium frame, with a C cup bust, and a nice hourglass figure with a full behind. Her light, almost cream complexion was framed by her dark natural hair, which she had pulled up into a neat bun for work. She normally liked to wear it wild in an afro or twist-out, but she recognized that she needed to be more conservative for work. This was, of course, due to the racist standards of what was acceptable and "professional" in corporate America. She didn't like it, but as she knew, chasing her dreams came at a price. Jasmine was strong in her convictions, but she was also insecure. Even at her young age, she could already start to see changes in her body, like her hips widening, that let her know that the days of the fast metabolism were over, and that she was going to have to start working hard to maintain a desirable weight, lest she start to look like her mother and most of the other women in her family. They had become vastly overweight and now struggled with health problems like heart disease, high blood pressure, and breast cancer. Her mother had once had the same long, slender, heart-shaped face that Jasmine now stared at in the mirror, and those same big, beautiful light brown eyes framed with long lashes had once been so filled with happiness and joy. But once Jasmine's dad had been killed while in prison, they lost all life, and she had turned to food for comfort. Jasmine was determined to bring some pride back to the family by achieving her dream of becoming a journalist known the world-over. She sat down at her desk and began to work. Her thoughts returned to Phillip. She and Phillip had once had a fling – they had gone on just one date before hooking up. Jasmine was not proud of this in retrospect, but he had seemed like great guy – at first – and didn't see the problem in having a little innocent fun. That was, until she heard him cracking racist jokes with George at the office. If that was how he felt about her, she had asked, then why would he even date her at all? It was just a joke, it was just a joke, he had insisted. But she just couldn't shake the feeling of hurt she had felt after hearing his remarks. She also saw him flirting with all of the office women. It was clear that he didn't take their budding relationship seriously at all. So she stopped trying. He still flirted with her, but she mostly rebuffed his advances, because she knew that he didn't really respect her. He only wanted one thing. Jasmine was so tired of the lacking dating scene. As a college-educated black woman, it was so hard to find a black man with her level of education and income that was still single. Because they were so rare, once they hit the market, they got snatched up quickly. This put most educated black women into a quagmire: either stay single, settle for someone who doesn't meet up to her standards, or date outside the race. Jasmine just refused to settle, and the whole interracial thing hadn't quite worked out either. So it looked like she was just going to stay single for now and focus on her career, until Mr. Right came along. It was college night at the club, and this meant that Alexis and her friends, rising seniors at their college, got in for a reduced price. Alexis was socializing at the bar – she had been offered drinks by several guys, and she decided to take one up on his offer. They stood around chatting, but didn't have any chemistry, so he went back to the dancefloor, and Alexis finished up her drink at the bar. Right then, Alexis turned around and her eye landed on a young man who was looking in her direction. He started to approach. He was tall and well-built, with broad, strong shoulders, thick biceps, and a cut torso. His skin was super smooth, and a sexy shade of dark chocolate. He was freshly dressed, wearing a white blazer, blue jeans, and brown leather shoes. He was, in a word, fine. And he was headed her way. "Hi, there," he said, smiling. "I'm Deon. What's your name?" "Well, hello there, Deon. I'm Alexis. Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you too," he said, giving her the once-over. "You know, I saw you from across the bar, and knew I had to come over and introduce myself." Alexis giggled. "Well, I do like the bold ones." "Yeah," he said, licking his lips. "You seem pretty bold yourself." "You read me like a book." He chuckled. "Would you like a drink?" "Sure. I'll have an apple martini." "Appletini? How did I know that's what you were going to say?" Alexis giggled again. She was liking this guy. He had a certain swagger about him that made him even more attractive. They chatted some more at the bar as they sipped on their drinks before heading off to find their friends. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Alexis. Let me get that number." Alexis gave Deon her number, and then hugged him before saying goodbye. Alexis danced the night away with her girls as usual, enjoying the carefree vibe. As the night wore on, she found herself scanning the crowd for Deon, but to no avail. She didn't see him anymore that night. She hoped that he would call. That Saturday, Jasmine found herself back in her favorite downtown coffee shop, getting cozy in her favorite leather armchair with her laptop. While sipping on her cappuccino, Jasmine was doing some background research on another assignment she had been given. This time, it wasn't another race-baiting story, so she figured that if she proved herself to be worthy of handling better stories, she might gain some more respect at the office. She had just stumbled upon a potential great primary source when she looked up and saw a very attractive young black man walk in. He was tall, with a sculpted, hot body. He had this smooth, sexy, dark chocolate skin. He looked delectable, like he would taste sweet if she licked him. He was wearing jeans and a tight black T-shirt that showed off his muscled torso. He wore a beret on his head and carried a cross-body messenger bag. Nice, thought Jasmine. He was fine, and she liked his style. She figured that he was a poet or something else artistic. She watched him walk up to the counter, smile charmingly at the female cashier, and order. Yeah, he's cute, but I don't have time to think about guys right now, Jasmine thought to herself. I've got to focus on this story. She took another sip and got back to work. "Is anyone sitting here?" Jasmine heard a voice say. She looked up, and saw the good-looking guy, pointing to the leather armchair beside her. "No, go ahead," she said. "Thanks, miss," he said, smiling. Jasmine nodded, somewhat surprised by his use of the term "miss", and returned to her laptop screen. From her peripheral vision, Jasmine could see that the guy was sipping his coffee, looking in her direction. She tried to ignore it and focus on her reading, but at last, she gave in to the urge to look up. "Yes?" she asked, when he didn't look away when their eyes met. "Oh, I'm just looking. Am I allowed to do that?" he smiled. "Maybe. Who are you?" "Deon. What's your name?" he extended his hand. "Jasmine." Jasmine gripped his hand gently, and shook it. "Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you, Jasmine. What are you up to there?" Deon asked, pointing to the laptop. "Just some stuff from work." "What's work for you?" "I'm a journalist at the Post." "Oh, wow, aren't you something? You know what? I think I read one of your pieces in the paper last week. About diversity at the prep school." "Did you enjoy it?" Jasmine asked. "I sure did. Wow. I never figured I'd run into a big shot at the coffee shop." Jasmine chuckled. She had to admit that the guy had some smooth lines. "So what do you do, Deon? Poet? Artist? Underground rapper and classical violinist on the side?" "Nah, none of that cool stuff. Just a graduate student, and I work at the record store downtown part time." "That's pretty cool. What are you earning your degree in?" Jasmine asked. This conversation continued and ended in the two of them exchanging numbers. He was artsy, it turned out, and he did write a few bars of poetry from time to time. There was nothing sexier to Jasmine than a man who could craft and mold words into beautiful works of art. She would definitely follow up with him. Light Skin, Long Hair Ch. 02 Jasmine looked up from her menu to steal a glance across the table at her date. Deon was dutifully engrossed in his when she looked up, but soon he met her eyes, as if he could sense that she had been staring. She smiled and went back to browsing her menu. She hated to admit it, but she was really enamored with this guy. She and Deon were out at a seafood restaurant downtown for their second date - her choice, her favorite place. For their first date, they had decided to keep it casual and go to a cheaper restaurant. The food was not spectacular, so the conversation had been the focal point of the date. It had totally made it worth it. Deon was a great conversationalist. He was able to have a higher level of intellectual conversation, which was something that Jasmine needed in a mate. At the end of the date, they split the bill, and then took a moonlit walk in a nearby park, continuing their conversation. They had come to a bridge over a small, rapid creek. "So, Mr. poet, let me hear a few bars," said Jasmine. "Alright," he said, clearing his throat. He began to recite a poem he seemed to be making up as he went in an oratorical tone. "Not bad," said Jasmine. "That was right off the top of my head, too!" "You'll have to share some of your written work, too." "You're right." Deon began looking around, as if in a haste to find something. He settled on the sky. "There's hardly a cloud up there." "Huh? Oh, the sky," said Jasmine, looking up. "Yeah, it is a pretty clear night." "You can see nearly all the stars." He began naming some of the ones he knew. "Right, if you say so." Astronomy was not a subject in which Jasmine was well-versed. They started walking again. "So I guess you've got to work on your paper all day tomorrow, huh?" said Jasmine. "Pretty much. It has to be submitted online by tomorrow. I'm such a procrastinator." Jasmine sighed. "Yup, I remember those days. So glad to be out of school. At least for now. The real world is pretty grating, too." "I believe it." "What's your paper about, anyway?" Jasmine asked. "Come to think of it, I can't believe I haven't asked you this. What are you studying?" "Literature." "That's pretty cool. What kind of literature?" "19th century African-American literature." "Oh, awesome!" said Jasmine, getting excited. The writings of blacks in the 1800s was a subject that Jasmine found fascinating, and she had spent a good amount of time studying it in college. She almost considered declaring an English minor just so she could study it more for credit. "That stuff is so interesting. I'm sure you're really enjoying it. What's your paper about?" "Oh, you know, it's a research paper. They're all about the same. Just a lot of references to stuff no one really understands or cares about." Jasmine couldn't imagine that an aspiring scholar of literature wouldn't care about the works he was no doubt discovering in his studies. "Okay, I guess." She inquired further. "Are you sure you're really into it? If you don't like doing research papers, how are you going to get through your thesis?" Deon sighed. "Yes, Jasmine, I'm sure. I'm just a little burnt out. You understand that, don't you?" "Of course." "Alright then," he said with a note of finality to his voice. Jasmine knew to drop it. They walked back to the parking lot. "Well, Deon, I had a great time tonight," she said once they reached her car. He took her hand in his, and drew her close, then kissed her. "Me, too," he said. "We'll have to do it again sometime." Jasmine raised her eyebrows. "I agree. Actually, I was thinking that maybe I could come over to your place? Since you're such a great cook and all." Jasmine gave him a playful pinch on the arm. He chuckled and looked down sheepishly. "Yeah, maybe at some point. But next time I think we'll give your cooking a try." "Okay. I'll be the brave one," said Jasmine. "After you finish with your exams this week, come by my place, and I'll nourish your soul with a meal made with my TLC." "Alright," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Sounds like a plan." "Okay. See you then." They gave each other a final peck on the lips, and then Jasmine got in her car and drove home. Jasmine really did want to visit Deon's place, but she was fine with having him come over to her place too, she supposed. She'd just have to dig in those old boxes in the closet and pull out one of her mom's old cookbooks for a recipe that would go straight to his heart. Monday morning, Jasmine woke up with a vengeance. She was feeling energized and up to the day ahead. She had to be. Today she would be putting the finishing touches on a major assignment, and she was going to make sure that the work she did was excellent. The assignment she had been working on at the coffee shop last week had turned out well: "Jasmine, you did a really good job covering the new charter school proposal last time," Susan Barnes had said at the previous meeting, looking at Jasmine from the head of the boardroom table. "It looks like we've really found your niche here with education-focused stories." Mallory, the timid redhead who sat across from Jasmine at the table, looked from Susan to Jasmine and back again, with a worried frown on her face. Each member of the team had a "niche", and until recently, Jasmine's niche as a staff writer had been "black interest" stories, and Mallory's had been education. "But I want to change it up a little bit. How would you feel about covering the mall development this time?" The new development near the mall was a hot-button issue in the city, and until then, Philip's story. "Sure, I'd be happy to do that," Jasmine had said, without thinking about what she was saying. She saw that Philip had his eyebrows raised in surprise. Susan had given him another assignment that was also business-related, but it was clear that he hadn't been expecting the change. She was almost done writing the piece, and needed just one more interview to make it really perfect. She dressed in a blazer and slacks - typical reporter garb, made up her face, and pulled her hair back into a bun. She drove to the location, conducted the interview, and got good notes. Then, she headed to the office to work on the finished product. ***** "So, he's coming over tonight?" said Jasmine's friend Sheila, with a big grin on her face. "Yeah, but it's not what you think!" said Jasmine, chuckling, and wiping her brow. The two of them were in the gym downtown working out on side-by-side bicycles. "I'm just going to make some dinner, we might watch a movie, and that'll be it." Shelia looked dubiously at her. "Mhmm. Right. That's what you're saying now. But tomorrow, I bet you'll be saying something different." Jasmine chuckled again. "Nah. See, I know better now than to give it up too quick. That's the number one killer of relationships." "You are right about that. But you guys have been on how many dates now, four? How long are you going to make him wait?" "Naw, girl! Just two. This is only our third date. It's way too soon for that." "Okay... if you say so. What are you cooking for him anyway? You know that food is the best way to a man's heart." "Just some salmon and mashed potatoes. Nothing too serious," said Jasmine, trying to sound nonchalant. "Salmon? Fancy! Look at you!" "Girl, shut up." Jasmine gave her friend a dismissive wave. "What? I'm just saying." Jasmine rolled her eyes as they walked to the locker room. She showered, and changed back into her regular clothes. She bid goodbye to Sheila and left the gym. It was six o'clock when Jasmine got back to her apartment. Two hours until Deon would arrive at the house. She showered again for good measure - this time using her strawberry body wash. She released her wet, wild, curly hair from the tight bun it had been in, and let it take on its natural mane-like state. Jasmine donned the dark low-cut top she had worn earlier in the day, but swapped out the pants for a comfortable skirt. A cute, but still comfortable look. She re-did her makeup and added just a touch of fragrance, and headed to the kitchen to begin preparing the meal. Now it was six-thirty. Jasmine really was secretly fretting over this dinner. She had cooked this meal before, but somehow it was a much more complicated affair now. Should she give it a little extra spice, lest it be too bland? How should she lay out the food? Plates already made, on the table? That was trying too hard. Food still left in pots and pans on the stove, completely free-for-all? Maybe that was too casual. Serving plates, maybe? She caught herself thinking about this and told herself to stop acting like a little girl, and just be confident. She seared the salmon to perfection, and made the mashed potatoes and green beans just right, a result of very careful cooking. By the time Deon arrived at eight, had the food laid out in a pretty array of serving plates in the kitchen, complete with a dessert of assorted fruit. "Well, hello there," Jasmine said playfully as she greeted Deon at the door, giving him a hug. "Hey, sexy. Smells good in here. What do you have for me?" "Oh, you're hungry?" "Damn straight!" Deon followed Jasmine into the kitchen. "Alright, big boy. Help yourself." She handed him a plate. They both made their plates and sat down at the table. "Wow. This salmon is delicious," said Deon. "Glad you like it," said Jasmine. "I'm really impressed. I guess you really can walk the walk." "Yup. Now it's your turn." "Oh," sighed Deon. "Yeah, about that... I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Jasmine laughed, and dropped the subject. "So, how did your midterm go?" "I think it went well. I put all of my effort into writing that paper, so hopefully my professor will give me a good grade," said Deon. "How did your assignment go?" "It went well. It was kind of stressful, but I got it done in time. I never knew just how passionate people were about that shopping center going up," said Jasmine. "It's going to be right in their neighborhood! Of course they're passionate. Before that mall went up, there was nothing out there - it was completely country. Then the mall came and made it all commercial. And now, they want to put a Walmart out there too? That's just too much. Imagine all the traffic. They're really hurting the community." "I suppose, but I would think those developments would make their property values increase." Jasmine shrugged. "But, hey, whatever. I'm just there to report, not take sides." "Yep. That's a good journalist." "Exactly. How can you be a good reporter if you're biased?" said Jasmine, thinking of Philip, whose conservative leanings were apparent in just about every piece he wrote. "How are things going at work?" asked Deon. Jasmine sighed, and smiled. "I love it, and I hate it. Lots of work, but, I finished with my last piece, and I think I did a good job. We'll see how my boss likes it." Deon nodded in understanding, then took the last sip of his juice. Jasmine took his plate and took the dirty dishes to the sink. So far, so good, thought Jasmine. Dinner was a success. "Now, because you're so awesome, I'll let you pick the movie," Jasmine said, leading the way into the living room. "Great!" said Deon. They sat down on the soft upholstered sofa and scrolled through the Netflix library until they found something that Deon liked that Jasmine could also stomach. It was an action movie. Not Jasmine's favorite genre, but she tried to stay engaged along with Deon. They wound up snuggled up close and reclined on the couch, with deon leaning against the armrest, and Jasmine curling her legs up on the couch and resting her head on his shoulder. As the movie went on, Jasmine took notice of Deon's hand sliding lower and lower down her side, but didn't say anything to stop it. At last, his hand came to rest just above her ample behind. He rested his hand there for a minute, but did not go any lower. He brought his hand back up to her waist, and tightened his grip on it, pulling her closer. They kissed, tenderly at first, and then became more passionate. He was a great kisser. His thick lips were smooth and soft. Jasmine slid her hand up his neck, and extended her fingers into his hair, giving his scalp a massage. Deon moved his hand all the way down to her behind this time, and gave it a little squeeze. They lay back on the couch. Jasmine rubbed up his hard chest, getting the first glorious feel of his chiseled pecs beneath his tight tee, and his small, hard nipples poking through the fabric. She straddled him, and pressed her breasts into his chest as she lay down on top of him. She attacked his mouth, kissing him deeply, nibbling a little on his thick lips. She moved to his neck, kissing his soft, smooth skin. She began to grind on him, and he gripped her behind for leverage, raising his hips into her in rhythm. She felt his hardness through his jeans pressing into her bare thigh underneath her skirt. He slipped a hand under her skirt and to her inner thigh. She felt a finger graze her crotch through her panties, which were by now, very wet. She realized that things were quickly going further than she had planned. She was quickly losing control. Jasmine gripped his wrist as she felt his hand slide under her shirt. She pushed his hand back. "Why don't we call it a night," she said softly, smiling. He looked at her for a second and then returned her smile. "Alright, miss. If that's what you want." He sat up. She gave him an empathetic caress on the back, and a peck on the cheek. "Thank you." She stood up. "Thank you," he said, following her as she led the way out of the room. "I really enjoyed dinner. And you." This made her blush. Jasmine opened the front door for Deon, who took a step outside. "Good night," she said, giving him another peck, this time on the lips. "Night. Talk to you tomorrow." She listened to Deon walk all the way down the stairs before shutting the door. Now, Jasmine's mind whirred, as her heartbeat finally slowed. Had she gone too far with Deon? Would he lose respect for her now? See her as a cheap lay? Worries fluttered through her mind once again as she washed her face and pinned up her hair for the night. Could she ever rest with this man in her life? ***** The wet sounds of gurgling and slurping filled the room. It was music to Deon's ears, as Alexis's juicy lips wrapped around his thick cock, working hard to accommodate his big member. She gave the best head he had ever had. She could suck hard, just the way he liked it, and could actually handle all of him, with the ability to take him to the very back of her throat. She pulled back and stroked his dick with her hand, taking a moment to catch her breath. "You like that, big boy?" she said sexily, licking her lips, showing off the shiny metal stud in her tongue. "Hell yeah," he said. She took the hard member and placed it between her big tits, and smacked them together, completely engulfing the dick like a hot dog in a bun. She pushed them in together and used them to stroke it. "Oh, shit," he said, watching his member disappear between her fluffy pillows, and reappear, pressing up against her chin. She stroked him with her hand again and jumped right back into sucking. This was their third round that night. Deon figured he would spend his last load on a great blowjob. Deon had already enjoyed the pleasure of Alexis's deep, wet pussy, from a variety of positions. He loved when they did it doggy style, because then he got the pleasure of feeling her jiggling ass, which he was always sure to give a few smacks, and when she was on top, because then he got a great view of her big, jiggling tits. Alexis loved it hard and deep, and he gave it to her just the way she liked. She was always hollering his name and how good his dick was. This did wonders for his ego. She kept working her magic and before long, he was shooting his last weak jets of cum into her mouth. Alexis swallowed it, no problem. "Ahhh," he sighed, laying back on the bed, satisfied. "That was great. Hope you enjoyed it." "Yup," said Alexis. "Anytime I get some of that good dick, it's a good day." She was gathering her clothes from around the bedroom, putting them back on. Deon chuckled. Alexis stepped out to use the restroom. He was tired, and his eyes began to close before she came back to the room. "Deon," she called sternly, waking him back up. "Huh?" he said with a start. "I'm leaving." And? Thought Deon. And then he remembered. "Oh yeah. Okay. Let's go." He threw on a T-shirt and his boxers, and led the way to the front door. He opened it, allowing Alexis to walk out. "Alright," Alexis said, standing on the doorstep of the house. "Alright," Deon responded, beginning to close the door. "No!" Alexis exclaimed, putting her hand on the door to stop him. She extended her arms to give him a hug, with raised, expectant eyebrows. He gave her a hurried embrace and then drew back to shut the door, but she planted a kiss on his cheek before he could close it. "So I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" said Alexis. "Umm, tomorrow might be a little busy." "Okay then. Doesn't have to be tomorrow. But soon. I'll talk to you soon, okay?" "Okay." "Goodnight!" Deon sighed of relief as at last he was able to close the door. He returned to his bed and lie down, happy to have it all to himself. He enjoyed sex with Alexis, as they had been meeting to do for the past couple of weeks, but that's all it was to him. It was just sex. He didn't really want anything more with Alexis. She seemed to think that there was something more between them, and that annoyed him. But he figured he would put up with it for a little while if it meant that he could keep getting good pussy. Especially since the woman that he was really interested in, Jasmine, was holding out on him and showed no signs of letting up any time soon. Light Skin, Long Hair Ch. 03 Click, click, click. The sounds of Jasmine's leather pumps striking the marble floor of the building ricocheted off the walls. She was already a tall woman, but the three-inch stilettos, as well as the well-tailored suit in navy blue she wore made her look powerful. And very professional. Distinguished. With the augmented salary that came along with her promotion, Jasmine was now able to afford better clothes and shoes, and it showed. She believed in the old adage, "dress like you have the job you want", and so she dressed to impress every day. She was definitely one of the best dressed women in the company. In just three short months, Jasmine's position at the company had radically changed. She had gone from a fresh-faced underling who got bum stories, to a respected full-fledged member of staff who consistently covered issues that mattered. The promotion definitely came with an increase in respect – she found herself going out to lunches with higher-ups in the company and being invited to their barbeques – and a move from cubicle to real office. That was where she was headed now, after the weekly board meeting. "Jazz," she heard a voice call after her. She looked back, and saw it was Philip. "Going to lunch?" "Yes, of course. Why?" she said once he caught up to her. "Want to do Leo's?" Jasmine thought about it. Why would Philip want to go to lunch with her? Something had to be up his sleeve. Nevertheless, it couldn't hurt to have lunch with a fellow coworker, even if it was Philip. "Sure, why not." "Great. I'll come by your office at twelve, and we'll head out." "Okay. See you later." Jasmine arrived at her office, and immediately resumed her work. She was well-liked among her coworkers, but she didn't have much time for socializing. Jasmine was all about her work. However, there was one person in her life that she wanted to make time for. That person was Deon. However, things had been rocky between them. They had been dating for the past three months, but Jasmine somehow got the sense that Deon was hesitant to get close to her. It seemed like he didn't want to open up, like there was something he wanted to hide. Every time she asked if she could come over to his place, there was some excuse. His air conditioning wasn't working. It was messy. His friend from out of town was staying over. There was always something. Jasmine remembered from her mother that one of the first signs that something is fishy about a man is if he won't let you come over to his place. Usually meant he was married, with a wife and kids. Jasmine doubted it was that drastic, but she knew that something was definitely up. Philip knocked on her door at exactly noon. "Come in," she called. She continued working and did not look up when Philip came in. "Oh, a busy bee, are you?" said Philip. "We can push it back if you're still working." "No, it's alright. We're just going to run to lunch," said Jasmine, finally looking up at him. "No, really. We can go tomorrow if you're too busy to take a real lunch break." "Philip," she said, frowning. "It's okay. We can go." She shooed him out of the room as she grabbed her jacket off the coat hanger on the back of the door. Why is he acting like this? she thought. He's never this cordial. "So, how's your day coming along?" Philip asked as they walked down the hall. "Pretty good so far," said Jasmine. "Productive. Getting lots of work done. How about yours?" They had arrived at the elevator and she pressed the button as she spoke. "It's been decent. I have a lot on my mind, though," said Philip. He sounded pensive, like there was more that he had to say, but he was leaving it out. They stepped onto the elevator. Jasmine felt there an awkward silence, like the words Philip didn't say were hovering between them. They didn't speak any more until after they stepped outside into the brisk fall day. "It's chilly out here," Jasmine remarked, wrapping her arms around her body. "That jacket you've got is pretty thin," said Philip, seeing her virtually shiver as a mean gust of wind blew by. "Do you want my jacket? I'll be fine if you take it. I'm a husky boy." Jasmine chuckled. "No, Philip. Keep your jacket." "You sure? Three blocks." "I'm good. Thanks, though." "Okay... suit yourself," said Philip. They arrived at the restaurant after walking three blocks. It was crowded inside and, much to Jasmine's delight, warm. They waited for a few minutes before they were seated. "What do you like to get here?" Philip asked once they got their menus. "I like the ham sandwiches. The chicken salad is also great," said Jasmine, not looking up from her menu. "I like that turkey club, too... and that tomato soup," she continued, really more thinking out loud than answering Philip's question. When she looked up to take a sip of her drink, she saw that Philip was staring dead at her, smiling softly. "What?" she asked crudely. "Nothing," said Philip, shaking his head and peering back at his menu. "Nothing at all. Just thinking." "Okay..." Jasmine looked back at her menu. Finally the waitress came. Jasmine decided on the turkey club. Philip ordered, and she took the menus away. They chatted about work for a few minutes, and then the food came. "How's your sandwich?" asked Philip. "It's good. It's pretty hard to mess up a sandwich," said Jasmine. "Good." "How is your soup?" "It's good. Nice and spicy," said Philip, licking his lips. Jasmine couldn't help but feel a brief spark of attraction to him. His dirty blonde hair fell over his face as he bent down to take a sip of his drink. He tossed the fringe back into place. "Got any big plans for this weekend?" he asked. "Nope. Just work, work, work. I'll probably hit up my favorite coffee shop. That'll probably be about it." "That's all?" "Yeah. What, were you expecting something?" "Actually, I was going to ask you if you would like to go out to dinner tomorrow night." Jasmine raised her eyebrows. "Dinner?" Philip chuckled. "Yeah, dinner. You know, that meal you eat in the nighttime?" Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know, that Philip. But why?" "Why not? Is there something wrong with a guy asking a beautiful woman out on a date?" Jasmine blushed. "Come on, Philip. Stop playing around. It's just too weird. Me and you, out to dinner? Come on. We're coworkers. We see each other every day." "So what? Coworkers date all the time. That doesn't mean anything." Philip paused before continuing to speak. "What, is there someone else?" Jasmine sighed and shook her head, as if dismissing this question. "No, Philip, it's just that..." she hesitated. "We've done this before." She gave a patronizing smile. "And, it just doesn't work." "So what?" "No, Philip, you don't have to..." Jasmine objected as he put his card into the bill to pay for both of their meals. It was too late, the waitress took the check. "Thanks," Jasmine said awkwardly. "That was then. This is now. We've both changed. Are you still stuck in the past?" "Of course not." "Okay then." Philip placed some bills on the table as a tip. They walked out of the restaurant. "Why not give it a shot?" Jasmine smiled. "Thanks, Philip. I appreciate it. I really do. But, I just can't. I'm sorry." Looking down, Philip shrugged his shoulders. It was the first time Jasmine had seen him look humbled. "Okay. Suit yourself," he said again, this time in a very subdued tone. They walked back to work in silence. Jasmine was exhausted by the end of the day. She wanted to see Deon tonight. It was just the pick-me-up she needed. She decided to give him a call. "Hey, baby," she said when he answered. "Hey, babe. What's up?" said Deon. "Are you doing anything tonight?" "No, not really, just chilling. Did you have something in mind?" Deon asked with interest in his voice. "I was hoping I could come over tonight and visit." "Oh, you want to come over..." "Yeah. That alright?" "Um, actually, tonight is probably not going to be a good night for that." "Why? I thought you just said you weren't doing anything." "Well, I'm not, but my friend is in town and needs a place to stay tonight. I don't want to have you over while he's there. My place is pretty small." Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Is it? I've never been, you know." "I know, baby. I'm sorry," he said, hearing the irritation in her voice. "Look, we'll get together later this weekend, okay? Okay?" "Alright. Bye." Jasmine hung up. It seemed like with Deon, there was never a shortage of excuses. One thing after another. Jasmine was getting more and more suspicious. And frustrated. I don't need this shit. I can do better, she thought to herself. She logged off the computer, grabbed her jacket, and left the office. In the hallway on the way to the elevator, she saw Philip. She felt her adrenaline rush, and made an impulsive decision. "Philip," she called to him. He looked back. "Hey," he said, slowing down. "I would love to go to dinner with you tomorrow night." He raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said, a big, smug grin crossing his face. "I guess you decided to come around after all." "I guess I did." "You won't be disappointed. I know an excellent place we can go. Text me your address, and I'll pick you up at eight." "Great. I'm excited. See you then," said Jasmine, as they exited the building. ***** "Please, Marcus!" Deon pleaded from the doorstep. "No. You're done." Marcus disappeared back inside the house, and reappeared at the door a few seconds later with a small luggage bag. "That's it, bruh. That's all of your stuff. Now, you've got to go." Deon looked into his brother's eyes. He just couldn't believe that his older brother, who had always protected him, guided him, and kept him under his wing would just put him out like this. It was so cold. So unlike him. "Please, man. I'm begging you. I don't have anywhere else to go!" Marcus shook his head. "Naw, man. No more. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you bringing these drugs into my house, and all these women coming and going at all hours of the night. I'm tired of you coming back drunk every other night and acting a fool. No more, man. You're on your own. I wish you the best, and I hope you get it together." Marcus shut the door. "Please, man! Please don't make me go!" Deon yelled, banging on the door. "Please!" But Marcus didn't answer. He stood there for twenty more minutes, begging, but the only thing that changed was the sky getting darker. At last, Deon gave up. He picked up the two bags carrying all of his belongings, and walked to the nearest street corner, where he hoped a taxi would roll by. ***** "So they finally get on the plane. And then, the wife asks, 'where do you want to sit?'" "Uh-huh," said Philip, amused, taking a sip of his wine. Jasmine took a long drag on hers before speaking again. "And... and then the husband says, 'a seat'. A SEAT!" She burst out laughing, banging her fist on the table. Philip smiled dotingly while watching her. "I... I guess you didn't find it too funny," said Jasmine once she recovered. She took another long sip of her wine, and finished it off. She pushed this glass next to the one she had already finished. "Oh, it's funny, alright," he said. "Oh, shut up, Philip," said Jasmine, giving him a playful shove across the table. "What!" Just then, Jasmine's phone began to vibrate. She looked down into her lap to see who was calling. It was Deon. Nope, she thought. She let it ring. She and Philip continued to talk and enjoy their dinner, which was quite delicious. And he could afford it. That was something Jasmine really appreciated. With her higher salary, she definitely wanted someone who was at least on par with her in terms of earnings. Deon called again. And then again. Philip noticed and finally said something. "I think someone's calling you." "I know. I'm ignoring it." "Is everything alright?" "Yeah. It's nothing." "You sure?" he asked. He looked concerned. "Yes, I'm sure. It's no problem." "Okay," said Philip, and then took the final sip of his wine. "Do you want desert?" "Hmm." In her slightly drunken state, Jasmine, who was still very hesitant about allowing herself to feel feelings again for Philip, began to feel very attracted to him again. Those old flames of desire had never been fully extinguished. Her mind wandered back to when they were lovers, and how erotic sex with him had been. He liked to take his time, making sure that she was satisfied, and when it was his turn, he received graciously. She remembered how soft his lips were on her neck as they made out his couch after their very first date. She had been drunk then, too. She lay back on the bed, propped up against his pillows. Philip was between her legs, holding her around her waist, as he kissed her neck. Her heartbeat sped up as he squeezed tighter and kissed more firmly. He slid a strong, warm hand underneath her blouse and up her belly to her chest. He cupped one of her breasts through her bra, and caressed it gently. He slid his hand back down across her side, and to her behind. He rubbed it, appreciating its full, rounded shape, before giving it a squeeze. Jasmine reached around and squeezed him around the middle, bringing him even closer. She kissed his lips, and as they kissed, she ran her hand through his slick hair. She loved the silky feel of it between her fingers. His solid body pressed into hers, and she could feel his hard chest rub against her nipples. He now dipped his hand between her thighs, and slid it up, under her skirt, into her inner thigh, which he began caressing. He massaged the sensitive flesh with relish, before grazing his fingers across her pussy through her wet panties. Jasmine moaned as he found her clit and began to rub it through them. "Do you want me to finger you?" he asked. "Yes, Philip," she responded. He slipped his fingers inside her panties, and rubbed her wet sex. He pushed one thick finger inside, and thrust it deeply, curling it upward as he did so. She grinded into him, thrusting into his finger so that it went deeper. "You like that?" he said, starting to do it more firmly. "Oh, yes," Jasmine said, closing her eyes. "Mmmm..." He pushed another finger inside. She threw her head back and drew in a sharp breath through her teeth as a strong orgasm ripped through her body. She slipped both of her hands under his shirt, and wrapped them around his sturdy body as best she could, and pushed his shirt up and off over his head. She caressed his firm abs, and then his chest. He exhaled as the palms of her hands grazed over his nipples. She wrapped them around his neck, and pulled him back down to her. He once again slid his hand under her shirt to do the same. Once her shirt was off, he slipped his fingers, still moist from her sex, under her bra to take that off too. As he reached around to unclasp it, Jasmine unbuttoned his shorts, and pushed them down to his knees. His package stood at attention and looked like a tent under his boxers. He was clearly well-endowed. She slid them down too, completely freeing his manhood. She pushed him back so that he now lay on his back. She positioned herself between his legs, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. She stroked him gently, sliding the flesh up and down the hard shaft. She then licked it, coating it with saliva, and teased the head with her tongue, while gently massaging his balls. She could feel him tense up as she worked on him, building up his excitement. At last, she took him into her mouth. She gave him a good blowjob, bobbing her head rhythmically up and down his shaft, and brought him cruelly close to the edge, but didn't let him cum, because she wanted more for herself. She climbed on top of him and straddled herself over his now fully erect manhood, which stood straight up like a tower. He held her by the hips and guided her down onto it. Jasmine winced slightly at the momentary sharp pain, but almost as soon as it had come, it was gone. She started riding him. He set the pace, moving in rhythm with her and guiding her motions with his hands on her hips, pulling and squeezing. She dismounted and then positioned herself on her knees, and bent over the headboard. Philip positioned himself behind her, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. He gripped both of her thighs for leverage, as he banged his haunches into her plump ass. With every thrust, she could feel his balls swinging up and smacking her sex. She hollered through clenched teeth. He squeezed her thighs tighter, and gave one a little smack. He fucked her harder now, yanking her back against him as he thrust, while she pushed her ass back against him. The sex had gotten wild. Jasmine banged her fists into the pillows, before grabbing onto the headboard for leverage as she thrust back into Philip's wildly thrusting hips. The bed creaked loudly as it rocked back and forth, and Jasmine could barely control her own volume. Soon, Philip lost control completely and then the sound of the wet smacks grew louder and slower, as Philip slowed down, panting. Finally, he collapsed on the bed. The image of his chest swelling as he took one big breath, and a sleepy, satisfied smile crossing his face stuck with Jasmine. She looked at Philip now across the table and remembered everything all over again. "Your desert?" said Philip, bringing Jasmine back into the present moment. She smiled. "Desert. What do I want for desert. Let's see." Looking at him, she licked her lips, and then looked back at the desert menu. "I want the chocolate cake." "Me too," said Philip. "It's delicious. Let's split it. I doubt you can eat the whole thing by yourself." "Sounds good." The waitress came and took the orders, and then came back a few minutes later and placed the cake on the table. Philip and Jasmine scooted closer to share. "Ladies first," said Philip, nodding at the cake. Jasmine sank her fork into the tip of the cake and drew up the bite to her mouth. "Mmm," said Jasmine. "It's good." Philip had some. "It is. I told you it would be good." "I didn't doubt you," said Jasmine, looking into his eyes, smiling knowingly. Catching the hint, Philip smiled and raised his eyebrows, then returned his attention to the cake. After they finished, Philip paid and they left the restaurant, and drove to Jasmine's apartment. He walked with her up the stairs to her door. "Thank you for dinner, Philip," she said. "It was great." "No problem. I had a great time," he said. He held her hand, and then kissed her. "Good night." "Good night, Philip. See you Monday." Jasmine walked into her apartment. She set her purse down, and fished out her phone. When she turned it back on, she saw sixteen missed calls and seven texts – all from Deon. Light Skin, Long Hair Ch. 04 Deon sat down on his hard, lumpy, creaking bed, and put his head into his hands. He took a deep breath. After spending the last few weeks moving around from shelter to shelter, he was finally able to secure himself a lease in a shoddy apartment. He had one bedroom and a bathroom, as well as a small kitchen. It wasn't anywhere near ideal, but at least he had a place to live now. Deon had hit rock bottom. He knew he had to get his life together, and fast. Unemployed, with no job prospects, and battling addiction and drinking problems, there were so many things wrong in his life. The story about him being in graduate school and working part-time had all been lies to cover up the sad truth, which was that he had absolutely nothing. He had come from another city when he had gotten a job in town, and his brother had been kind enough to let him live in his home for awhile while he got back on his feet, but when Deon returned to his old ways, Marcus grew tired of it and kicked him out. After showing up to work drunk one too many times, and racking up a few drug-related charges, he had been fired. And now he was on his own. He wanted to reach out to someone, and he figured it was time to come clean. Jasmine had ignored him when he tried to get in contact with her earlier, and understandably so. She was getting tired of his excuses. They hadn't spoken in a few weeks, so maybe she would give him a chance after taking a break. He called her on her phone. No answer. So he left a voicemail. "Jasmine, it's Deon. I want to talk to you. No, I need to talk to you. Look, I know you don't want to hear from me right now. I get that. I messed up, and I'm really, really sorry. But I'm done with that now. I'm ready to... get serious. Just let me come by and see you. I promise I'll tell you everything. No more games. Alright? Let me know. Bye." Deon continued to unpack and place his belongings in their places in the apartment. An hour later, he heard his phone ping. When he checked it, there was a message from Jasmine. "8:00." was all it said. * * * * * It had been a few weeks since Jasmine and Philip's date, and so far, thing were going well in their new, budding relationship this time around. They talked on the phone and had gone out a few more times. They were flirtatious at work, but no one knew about their involvement; they were able to keep it discrete. As much as it surprised her, Jasmine was starting to think that maybe things could actually work out with Philip. That's why Deon was the furthest thing from her mind when he called her that evening. She didn't have high expectations for him or his visit, but figured that she at least owed him some closure about the end of their relationship, so she decided that she would let him visit. He rang the doorbell at eight. "Hi," he said when she opened the door. His face looked so incredibly somber and his eyes so full of emotion that Jasmine couldn't possibly turn him away. "I'm really glad to see you." He gave her a warm hug, and then walked inside. Jasmine closed the door and watched him from behind as he slipped off his shoes in the hallway. "What do you need?" she said coolly, trying to hide the sudden rush of feelings she felt upon seeing him. "You," he said, gripping her around the waist. Jasmine gasped, shocked at his forwardness. "Deon! Let go of me. I didn't say you could..." But he cut her off, putting his mouth on top of hers, and kissing her deeply. After a few seconds, she pulled back from the kiss, out of breath. But before she could speak, Deon kissed her again, this time, tightening his hold on her waist, pushing her back against the wall. Giving into him against her strong will, Jasmine found herself pulling him closer. They backed up the wall until they were in Jasmine's bedroom, and Deon pushed her back onto the bed. They made out fervently, and before long, they were down to their skivvies on the bed. Deon really was the Adonis Jasmine had pictured him to be. She couldn't help but to survey the rugged terrain of his cut abdominal muscles, kissing and licking them, and tracing the V where his abs met his groin with her tongue. He trembled with anticipation as her tongue approached his manhood. She licked back up his body until she reached his neck. "You're going to learn to stop teasing me," he said playfully. She laughed as he hastily took charge and pressed her back onto the bed. She wrapped her legs around him, letting him know exactly what she wanted. He gave it to her. They made love for hours that night, and loud too. Jasmine was sure that her neighbors would hear them, but she didn't care, because the sex was so good. They had to have done every position in the book by six AM, the time that they finally went to sleep. When they awoke at ten, Deon was in a hurry. "Jasmine," he said, kissing her on the cheek, and waking her. "Hmm?" she responded sleepily, smiling up at him. "I've gotta go. I completely forgot that I have a meeting with my advisor this morning." "Oh. Okay," she said, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. "That's fine. I'll see you again tomorrow, right?" "Yeah, definitely. I'll come by. Maybe you can treat me to some of your cooking again?" Jasmine laughed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we'll see about that one. Alright. Have a good meeting." They kissed. "Bye. I'll see you tomorrow." Jasmine fell back asleep, feeling completely blissful. If Deon was going to get his act together, and it looked like he was, then they could resume their blooming relationship. There was still the matter of Philip, but that was for a different day... Deon was sorry that he had lied to Jasmine again, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell the truth about his whereabouts after last night. The truth was, he had to appear in court for a charge, and he had completely forgotten about it. He could delay telling the truth, but for how long was the question. Eventually, he knew, everything would come to the light... * * * * * The next day, Jasmine had a glow about her at work. She got lots of compliments that she looked pretty, even though nothing had changed about her appearance. Just her demeanor. She couldn't wait until she saw Deon later in the day... she was quite honestly craving him. When the clock finally struck five, she hurried out to her car to leave. On the road, she saw a car that looked a lot like Deon's. She looked more closely at it and determined that it was, in fact, him. Chipper to see him earlier than expected, and curious as to where he was going, she decided to follow him and surprise him. She kept an eye on his car, and made sure to keep at least two cars between them to be discrete. Soon, she noticed that they were headed into a sketchy part of town. What's he doing over here? She wondered to herself. He lived over by the college, where he attended graduate school, he had said. But by the looks of it, they were going to either a liquor store, or a housing project, because that was all that was over in this corner of the city. Deon pulled past the visitor parking area, and into the neighborhood. He was going to someone's house. Now her curiosity was piqued. Jasmine pulled into a spot in the visitor lot and hopped out, quickly patrolling the area on foot. Between two buildings, she saw his green car pulling off the winding street of the neighborhood into a parking spot in front of another building. She cut between the two buildings quickly, and stealthily. She watched from behind a tree as Deon got out of his car, climbed up some stairs, and turned the key to walk into an apartment unit. He lives here! Jasmine thought. He's been lying! Now it all made sense, as to why he didn't want to invite her over. She felt so hurt and betrayed, that her worse fears had turned out to be true, this whole time. It was time to confront him. She climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Deon opened it, and before he could get any words out, his mouth hung open. "How could you? You've been lying to me this whole time!" Jasmine yelled. "No, look, I can explain!" "Explain, what? You told me you lived by the college." "Jasmine, no, this is my brother's house, I promise—" She interrupted before he could finish. "Just stop with your lies. I know this is your place. That's why you never wanted to invite me over. What else have you lied about? Are you even in school at all?" He didn't say anything, and then looked down. "I knew it. Liar. We are finished. For good this time. Don't call me anymore, don't contact me at all. I don't ever want to see you again." "Wait! Jasmine, please! I'm so sorry! I promise, I'll change! I love you!" Deon pleaded. But it was too late. She had turned her back on him, and was walking back down the stairs. As he watched her go, he became filled with rage. Yeah, he had lied, he thought, but he was still a great guy! A girl like her would never have given him a chance if he hadn't faked himself up anyway. So why was it his fault? Now she was gone, for good. Another woman walking out of his life. The rage intensified, and for a second, he felt compelled to do something violent as she walked in heels down the steep stairs, but restrained himself and went back into his apartment, where he punched a hole in the wall instead. After fuming about this for an hour, he settled down, and decided that Jasmine was a stuck up bitch anyway, and that he didn't need her. There was still Alexis. She had been pretty devoted to him, even though he hadn't reciprocated at all... but maybe she would still care for him. He called her and asked her to come over. At first, she thought that it was for the usual reason. But when he gave her a different address, she was surprised. He said that he had something important to share, so she agreed to come over. He gave her a hug when he greeted her at the door, a first for him, showing affection for the woman who had at one time been nothing more than a booty call to him. However, this time, something was different. Alexis was usually thirsty for his affection, but seeing his place seemed to make her cold. She hardly hugged him back. She looked around, and an ugly look crossed her face. "Well, come in," he said, waving her inside so that he could close the door. But Alexis didn't budge. She just stood there at the threshold. "What in the hell kind of place is this? I thought you lived all the way across town." "I moved, okay? Look, just come in, and we'll talk about this." "In here? I wouldn't set foot in this place if you paid me," said Alexis, with disgust. "What? But I thought you loved me." Alexis laughed sarcastically. "Oh, no. You've got it mistaken. See, I thought you were a smart brother who was going places. That was when I loved you. But it turns out that you're just a scrub. So, no. Goodbye." And with that, she turned on her heels and walked away. For Deon, this was too much. The woman that once would have kissed his heels was now turning on him in disgust, looking down on him. Laughing at him like he was less than a man! In a blind rage, he grabbed the lamp that sat on the table beside the couch, and struck Alexis in the back of her head with it as she descended the stairs. * * * * * "I just can't believe he pulled one over on me like that!" Jasmine lamented to her mom on the phone, as she cooked dinner for herself that night. "You're still young, sweetie. You have to live and learn. Everyone will go through disappointments in life, especially when it comes to relationships," said her mother in her comforting tone. "Yeah, I know, but still," Jasmine complained as she stirred a pot. She heard the evening news starting from the TV in the living room over the counter island. "Hang on, mom. I'm going to turn up the news." She went into the living room and picked up the remote to turn up the volume so that she could hear the news from the kitchen. "Alright, I'm back," she said as she walked back to the stove and resumed stirring. "What about that Philip fellow you went out with? He seemed like a nice fellow." "Yeah, he's great—hang on a second, Mom," said Jasmine as what looked like a familiar face appeared on the news. "A local man... severe blunt force trauma... critical care," were the words that Jasmine managed to make out before she got to the TV. Deon's mugshot was shown clearly on the screen. "Deon Watkins, 31, is being held in the county jail without bail," the reporter said. Jasmine's phone hit the floor.