Sexual Suicide __________
Sexual Suicide Copyright ÂŠ 2011 by Brown Essence, Inc. Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system- except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web â€“ without permission in writing from the publisher. Author Aaron Bebo contributed work to Conversation 4. His work was printed with expressed permission from Story Ta Tale Publishing. Sonya Wynn, Alicia Jones, Laura Hodges, Cynthia Hodges, Rachel Anderson and Shunda Staples-Ray contributed work to the conversations. Their work was printed with their permission.
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Time had decided… not to be my friend. I knew Q was clocking my every moment, waiting on the opportunity to pounce, with his “aha!” Q had filed for divorce several months ago and had I not contested it, we would be happily single right now. That would have been a whole lot better than these feelings of guilt racing through my veins. I don’t know why I contested it either. If I were to guess, I would say it had everything to do with the fact that Q didn’t just leave it at we had irreconcilable differences. No! He wanted to cry on the Judge’s shoulders talking about how wrong I had done him. To make matters worse, he brought up the fact that I had fallen in love with Ahmad. I would have tried to argue my point but instead I decided to play hardball. Chrisette Michelle’s Blame it on me couldn’t counsel me then. I couldn’t help but laugh as I recollected the events of that day. “Your honor,” I said with tears brimming on my eye lids. I tugged at my brown vest, then brought my hands to 4
my face and wiped away the tears with all the drama I could muster, “I am so in love with Q.” I looked over at him and watched as his jaw dropped. “I don’t know why he wants to leave me,” I said and took hold of the Kleenex that was being offered by the bailiff, I wiped my nose and continued. “I feel like I am the only one who has put any effort into saving this marriage and now he’s decided to just throw me out like yesterday’s trash.” I sat back down in my seat as if the weight of it all was just too much for me to bear. “We have built so much together and if only for that reason we should give one another a fair chance to work beyond our differences.” Judge Michaels looked at me as if she wanted to cry with me, as if my pain was hers and countless other women’s. She looked at Q, “Mr. Robertson, I tend to agree with Alyssa,” she said. I took note of how she referred to me informally even though this was the first time we had ever encountered one another. She picked up a pen and began writing, “I am going to recommend that you guys seek counseling,” she said, “I am assigning you Dr. Carol Donovan,” she continued before tearing a sheet from her pad and handing it to the bailiff, who in turn handed it to Q. “You’re more than welcome to seek your own counselor as well, but this one is not an option.” She stared us both in the eyes as if we were being parented for some wrong we had done, “I want to see you 5
both back here in 6 months, but I want you to give it an honest try. Okay,” she said as she looked directly at Q. I left with a smirk on my face knowing that all of it was just a game. I no longer wanted Q as I could tell that he sure in hell didn’t want me either. None of that mattered right now as I drove home from Ahmad’s worried that Q would know exactly where I was and what I had done. I wondered what Tee would do in this same situation and then I smiled, today, I was going to try to fill Tee’s shoes. I flew up the back stairs like I had wings; my clothes hit the floor before my feet had a chance to gain steady ground. I jumped in the bed with Q and for the second time that day my head was in a man’s lap. I looked up at Q’s startled expression, but as I continued to place my warm tongue along everything that was his, I watched him relax and give in to the pleasure. I tried to force Q to sex me the way that Ahmad just had. I wanted the aggression the passion, but Q just reverted back to our same ordinary sex. I closed my eyes and envisioned the love I had just made with Ahmad, the way his soft lips touched my body, the hardness of his chest, the memories set me on fire and caused my body to explode. I opened my eyes and looked at Q’s boastful expression. ‘Humph,’ I thought, ‘if only you knew, that orgasm didn’t have anything to do with you.’ I held my tongue and my peace and went to shower with the revelation that my sex life was about to look up. 6