Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Blue Christmas

A cautionary take of what happens when Christmas and depression cross paths.

Blue Christmas

The Thanksgiving holiday has come and gone in a blink of an eye.  The Monday after the days of turkey and tryptophan, I walk into an office that’s awash with every decoration of the festive Christmas holiday known in the universe: snowmen, angels, mistletoe, stockings on everyone’s cubicle, and everything else one can think of. I hate it, and I don’t want any part of it!

The day before we all took off for Christmas, the big boss threw a big party that lasted all day.  Everyone within their cubicles played holiday music, ranging from religious pieces to secular.  To drown out everyone trying to sing, I put on my headphones and began listening to the classical radio station.

Lorna, my closest friend in the office, came over to my cubicle with an antler headband on with bells hanging on them. “Chastity, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lorna, the time between Thanksgiving through the first week of January, I get the blues,” I said.  “Since my miscarriage, it’s escalated and turned me into a sour puss.”

“Aww, Chas. I’m so sorry to hear that.  Come join me in Bill’s office. He has a box of those fancy-pants chocolate mints you love so much.”

Smiling, I eagerly followed Lorna into Bill’s office. Once inside, I saw several boxes of my favorite mints stacked up on the floor, and a table with a ton of presents on there.  Bill was conversing with Melissa, Sallie, and Grace in a Santa hat with his name in green glitter.  Smiling like a Cheshire cat, bill came over to me and hugged me. It felt nice being in his arms again, only for a brief second. Looking up, I saw that he was standing under the mistletoe. I played along, kidding him on the cheek that made the women in there seethe with anger.

Breaking the mounting tension, Lorna squealed in delight.

“What’s going on?” Bill asked.

“You have the good mints here,” Lorna said excitedly, “and you have several here with Chas’s name on them.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Chastity, five boxes of the mints is yours, and a stocking full of other goodies you will like.”

“Thank you, Bill,” I replied.

“Chas, don’t be sad. It’s a celebration! Have some wine and cheer up.”

“Bill you sure do know how to make a woman feel special.”

Melissa gave me a nasty look as I took the stocking and mints from Bill, as he sat in a chair and pulled me down with him. “So, Chastity, what do you want for Christmas?” he asked.

I want our child back, I wanted to say.  “I want to beat the holiday blues I get every year.”

“Well, little girl, I don’t know how to do that. What I can do is make sure you have fun tonight at the party.”
“I would like that. Thank you, Bill.”

Bill handed me a stocking with some candy and I kissed him on the cheek.  Grace and the other girls shot daggers at me and Lorna, but we didn’t care. Bill was enjoying himself, as everyone should.

“That was fun,” I said to Lorna as we got back to my cubicle.

“The looks on those faces were priceless,” Lorna giggles. “It put a smile on your face knowing that you got to straddle bill for a couple minutes.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Don’t forget about the debauchery at five.”

“My camera batteries are charged and ready.”

Five rolled around and everyone was on a sugar and wine high.  Stefan brought his DJ equipment and turned the office into a night club.  Catered food came in, and the alcohol began to flow like Niagara Falls.  John and Lorna went into a closet and haven’t come out for air yet.  Grabbing a brownie and a cup of hot apple cider, I sat at one of the conference tables and stared out at the falling snow.  The moment The Carpenters’ Merry Christmas Darling filled the office; tears started falling down my cheeks.  Packing my belongings, I briskly walked to the elevators and almost ran into Lorna and john.

“Chastity, what’s wrong?” Lorna asked.

“I can’t listen to the music or wear a fake smile on my face anymore,” I sobbed.

“I understand.  Call me when you get home.”

“I will.”
“Take care of yourself, Chas,” John said to me.

“Thank you both. I really appreciate it.”

I got on the elevator and a flood of tears ran down my face.  Since the miscarriage and getting dumped on my birthday, I’ve been an emotional wreck.  Seeing couples holding hands, mothers pushing their babies in baby strollers get to me, especially during this time of year. I want so badly to beat this depression; I don’t know what to do.  The last thing I wanted to do was end my life and join my unborn child in heaven. 

I went home to my semi-barren apartment and flung myself on the couch.  After about an hour, I looked around and spied a bottle of vodka and antidepressants. Changing into some sweats and gym shoes, I popped a few pills, washed them down with alcohol, and repeated the routine until both bottles were empty. I got back on the couch, fumbled for my cell and sent a text to both John and Lorna, and closed my eyes.

I woke up several hours later in the emergency room, hooked up to an IV unit. Lorna and John’s faces came into focus as the doctor came into the partition.  “Well, Miss Meyer, you’re very lucky to have friends that care about you,” the doctor said. “You were within five minutes from dying from an overdose of pills and alcohol poisoning.”

I looked from the doctor to bot John and Lorna.  Reading the question on my face, John says to the doctor, “Chastity has had a rough year with a miscarriage and getting dumped on the same day and this holiday season just pushed her over the edge.”

“I see. We get a lot of people who try to attempt suicide around this time. She needs to stay here for observation. She’ll give you a call when she’s discharged.

“Thank you, doctor.”

When the doctor left, Lorna hugged me. “Chastity, I know you’re upset at Bill for dumping you when you need him the most, but it’s no excuse to kill yourself.”

“Yesterday’s kind gesture from him was completely fake,” I said finally. “He’s waking up with those two-bit bitches and holding another fuck session, not caring about the child I lost because of him.”

“The best thing for y now is to get better and return to work sooner than later. Forget bill and his stable of attention whores. Work on you and the business you’re about to open up. That’s how you get back at him and those girls.”

I smiled at my friends. “I have one question. How did I end up here?”

“When I got your text at the party, I grabbed John and headed over right away. We found you under the afghan with a very faint pulse. I called an ambulance and they brought you here and pumped your stomach. You need to get some rest. We’ll be back for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, both.”

The next day I went home with john and Lorna. Christmas and New Year’s came and went and I didn’t bawl my eyes out this time.  Throughout that year, I continued to work and saved up enough money to open up my own café. I long forgot about Bill, what he’s done to me, the miscarriage, and his girlfriends.  I worked overtime to get the café up and running.

I left the company to work in my café full time, and I’m happier doing that.

 
 

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Roommates With Benefits

Note: This story was written in June 2011. The sequel is coming soon. I already have the story copyrighted and it has a digital fingerprint on it.


Roommates With Benefits
copyright 2011 All Rights Reserved.

“Damn, that was good,” I say to Jayson as I light a cigarette and pass it to him.

“I knew this arrangement was going to work,” Jayson replied, taking a drag.

“Yeah, and everyone thought it wasn’t going to work.  Little did they know about the little arrangement we have made prior to you moving in.”

Kissing me, Jayson says, “I’m going to get us something cold to drink.  I’ll be back.”

As Jayson got us drinks, I took a drag from the cigarette and basked in the after-sex glow of what transpired last night, and what led up to this moment.  It had to have started when I put an ad in the neighborhood magazine.  Out of all of the emails I received, I came across Jayson’s two weeks before Halloween.  In the email, he has moved from upstate New York to Chicago a few years ago to expand his business. He was looking for a room to stay in while his home is undergoing a huge renovation, thanks to a freak severe thunderstorm that blew through the suburbs for the past few days. At the bottom of the email, he left his contact information.  The next day I called Jayson and set up a meeting at a coffee shop in the neighborhood. The day I met him was on an unusually hot day for fall, let alone October. I spotted a guy wearing a baseball cap and typing something on his laptop. He was a little over six feet tall with brown hair and brown eyes, with a hint of naughtiness in them, and a smile that can make the most prudish librarian cream her granny panties.  A successful website designer, he often works from home and would need to meet his clients in a home office for a few consultations.  Taking that into consideration, I told him that I was going to let him know my decision next week.  Jayson thanked me and went on his way. I called him on a Tuesday and left him a message on his answering machine.  He called me back that very day, saying he will move in over the weekend.

Several weeks of living with Jayson has gone by where we’ve gotten accustomed to seeing each other in various states of undress.  One Saturday morning sticks out in my mind vividly.  I was going to the bathroom to take a shower and Jayson was coming out of the bathroom and stood in front of me stark naked.  The only thing I did was gawk at his penis: an eight-inch marvel with a wide girth.  I got wet immediately, despite not wearing any panties under the long shirt I usually wore to bed. 

“Good morning, Sharon,” Jayson greeted me with a smile.

“Um, uh, morning, Jay,” I stammer, looking from his penis to his face and his chiseled chest.

“Like the view?” he asked and wiggles his dick in his hands.

This guy is freakishly tall, I thought to myself.  Even if I wore my highest stripper heels, I would still have to look up at him. What is he, six-two, six-three?  Finding the words, I spit out, “Excuse me.”

Running into the bathroom, I had to catch my breath.  I did not want to see my roomie in a state of undress like that.  I turned on the shower and got in.  As I showered, his penis kept popping into my brain.  All of a sudden, I was having fantasies about me wrapping my tongue around that gorgeous tool, feeling the veins and the foreskin in my moist mouth.  Men who are uncircumcised are a huge turn-on to me.  Personally, uncircumcised penises fill the pussy up a whole lot better than those who are circumcised.  Reaching into a cabinet, I pull out a silver waterproof vibrator, tuned it on, and placed it on my clitoris.  I moved the vibrator on and around my womanhood. I didn’t stop getting off until I closed my eyes and saw stars as I came.

The hot water running cold was my signal to get out of the shower.  I go into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.  Jayson was at the kitchen table, working hard on a new website design for the coffee shop I met him at. He looked from his laptop and says, “I’m sorry for my behavior this morning. I understand it if you want me gone.”

Putting down my coffee mug, I go over to      the table and sit across from Jayson.  “It was nothing, and I don’t want you to leave.”

“Yay, you love me! When are we going to fuck? I bet you’re all nice and juicy down there.”

“That’s for me to know,” I laughed.

“I’ll find out one way or another.”

“No you won’t.”

“We’ll see.”

We spent the New Year watching the ball in Times Square drop on the plasma screen, and drank an insane amount of champagne and wine.  When the clock struck midnight here, Jayson and I kissed as though we were lovers.  Tumbling into Jayson’s room, we dry-humped each other clumsily and made out until we both fell asleep.  I woke up the next morning without my shirt on and his left hand down my jeans.  I removed his hand, found my shirt and raced into my room to nurse a serious hangover.  Jayson poked his head in my room an hour later and said, “I told you I was going to find out how juicy you are down there. Next time, you’re going to be mine.”

Everything came to a head on a humid summer day in July.  There were severe thunderstorms left and right, knocking out power for days at a time.  The brownout that occurred the other day knocked out the air conditioning unit of the building, Internet was down and the only thing we could do is listen to was the hand radio I owned.  Jayson turned on every ceiling fan he could find, but the fans just blew hot air around. The box fans and oscillating fans offered no signs of relief; just reduced power even more.  I went into my room to change my clothes to wear something lighter.

Taking off the tee shirt and jeans I had on when I went to work, I threw on a strapless summer dress I bought three years ago I never worn.  The dress was short and stopped at mid-thigh, showing off my legs I had worked hard on at the gym.  Being of African descent, my skin was already a milk chocolate color that was only enhanced by getting toned up including firming up my natural 42DDD chest on a five-foot-five inch frame. During the summer, I would always turn into the darkest shade of brown known to man.  I had no need for a bra for the dress; I was going to yank it off of me if it got hotter tonight and just sleep in my black mesh thong.
 
I went onto the balcony with a magazine and a glass of ice water, and looked out at the haze over the city.  The ice water turned lukewarm in the heat and the ink got on my hands as I flipped through it.  I went back inside, and wondered what Jayson was up to. Seeing the door to his room was open, I found him sitting on his king-size bed wearing boxers. He was plugged into his laptop either writing code or watching a movie or listening to music.  On the night stand was a small bowl filled with melting ice cubes, and the ceiling fan was on, again blowing hot air like some of the politicians in this city. 

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

Looking up, Jayson lets out a cat-call whistle. “Getting hard looking at you in that dress. You must have set up a really hot fuck session with some guy you work with.  For real, I’m watching a movie,” he explained.

“May I join you?”

“Sure. I hope you like B-level horror flicks.”

I got in next to him and he put his arm around me.  It was the first time in a long time I was this close to a guy, New Year’s not counting.  Throughout the movie-which didn’t make no sense at all-I was starting to burn up a bit.  Cursing having no air conditioning and the fans blowing hot air around, I turned off Jayson’s laptop and set it on the side of the bed next to him. He smacked my ass, forcing me to jerk my head up and look at him.  The devilish tint in his eyes began to show itself, and a Cheshire cat smile came across his face.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“To get a reaction out of you,” he responded.

I maneuvered myself around so that I was half-straddling him to face him. “Oh, really. What would you do if I wasn’t reaching over you?”  I asked in a half-threatening manner.

“Yank down your dress so I can see how big your cans are.”

“You would love that.”

“What would you do if I did it?”

“Punish you.”

Jayson yanks down my dress, letting my breasts breathe in the stale air.  “Goddamn, your titties are big. What size are they?” he asked.

“They’re big enough for you to hold,” I answered.

“Ebony girl, I’m six-three with big hands. I think I need another pair to hold these things.”

He tweaked my nipples until they were pointing into the thick heat.  I fed him one breast and he took to suckling on it happily, while his hands massaged the other breast.  I rubbed my shaved pussy as Jayson bit down on my breast, eliciting a moan from me.  Jayson pushes me onto his bed so that I was lying flat on my back.  He ran his hands up my legs, stopping at my knees.  Gently, he pried them apart and continued on his track.  Stopping at the junction between my legs, he dipped his head and took a whiff of my pussy.

“MMMMMM smells sweet,” he murmured. “I wonder how it tastes.”

He licked me through my thong, and I drenched them right away.  Tearing the fabric of the skimpy thong, he rubbed my mound, loving the feel of a freshly-waxed pussy.  He later inserted two fingers into my pussy, feeling for my G-spot and I drench his fingers. I take his fingers out of me and put them in my mouth.  I lapped up my juices, moaning in delight. He smiled as I climbed on top and kissed him, tasting my juices and making him hard instantly.  Giving him one of my famous gotcha smiles, I pull his dick out of his boxers and licked it like a lollipop.  I heard him mumble something, but I ignored it and devoured his dick, bobbing my head up and down until he unloaded his spunk in my mouth.  I swallowed a lot of it while the rest dribbled out of my mouth and onto my chin.
                                               
Smacking his lips, Jayson licks his cum off of me and kissed me.  I wanted him inside me: fingers, tongue, the eight-incher-I wanted it all.  He lays me on the bed, not breaking the kiss.  His hands roam my body, massaging my breasts.  Our tongues dance in each other’s mouths as I feel him explore my body.  My legs were parted once again as he rubbed my throbbing clit with a thumb.  One tap sent chills up my spine.  A couple of fingers were moving in and out of me, forcing me to squirm under Jayson’s body.  He allowed me to come up for air; the only thing I did was say, “Oh, yeah.”

Taking that as his cue, Jayson went to town on my ever-waiting pussy.  His tongue darted in and out of me as I held back the orgasm that was building up inside of me.   Jayson looked at me, grinning like a cat that just caught a mouse.  He thumbed my clit fast, to the point where I couldn’t take it and I shouted, “Fuck me, now!”

Hoisting my legs into the air and spreading them wide, Jayson thrusts himself in me, and pulled out.  He then inched his dick in me and pulled out, purposely driving me mad with suspense.  I reached down and rubbed myself as he inserted his whole length in me.  He took his time, moving in and out of me.  I ran my fingers through his hair as he rolled over, never breaking the hold my legs had on him until he was flat on his back.  I was moving up and down on him, creating more stifling heat than there was both outside and inside the room.  I leaned down until I was eye-level to him and whispered, “I hope you like how my juices taste when it’s mixed in with yours.”

With that, Jayson turned over again, pinning me down and pumped in and out of me hard until he came deep inside me, triggering my long-held orgasm as I squirted hard.  Giving both breasts a squeeze, he found his way back to my pussy and lapped up both of our juices.  I look over at the night stand, where the bowl of ice has long melted and I spot a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  Taking one, I light the cigarette and take a drag from it, and passed it to Jayson.

Here we are, back to where we started.  Taking another drag from my cigarette, I pondered our next romp in the sack.  Jayson came back with a couple of bottles of beers, both of them opened. I forgot that Jayson filled the coolers with ice and food in case the refrigerator stopped running.  We clicked bottles and drank from them, with beer dribbling down my chin.  He leaned over and licked the beer off of me, saying that the mix of my sweat and the beer is an intoxicating taste to him. I start to feel a cool breeze come through Jayson’s room.  I look up, and the ceiling fan was spinning at a faster rate than it was earlier.  Looking at each other, we go turn on the rest of the fans and other electronics to confirm in our minds that power was restored.  Sure enough, the radio I left on was announcing the restoration of power and a cooling trend is coming through the metropolitan area. 

Turning off the fans, I opened all of the windows and Jayson asked, “Does this make us roommate fuck buddies?”

“Don’t matter to me,” I answered.

“What’s your plan for relieving sexual tension?”

Jumping up to straddle his six-three frame, I kiss him. “Well, we can always come in each other’s bedrooms,” I suggested.

Holding me up, Jayson walks toward my bedroom and kisses me back.  Going inside, he places me on my bed and closes the door and the window.  Turning off my ceiling fan, he says with a sinister smile, “I think we need a repeat of what happened earlier. I want to see that chocolate body of yours sweat and squirm again under my basketball player size.”

I hope you all enjoyed that story. Get ready for the sequel to this story. You'll love the ending.
Love,
Sylvia



Monday, December 12, 2011

Holiday Reads and Creepfest

I'm finishing up the two stories I want to post on here and the sites I belong to, after being ill for a few days.  Two stories I have up my sleeve are in the last round of edits and plan on getting those two posted for reading, just in time for Christmas. One of the stories is a tale of incest that takes place on the family farm.  You have to read the story ti find out who in that family are bumping uglies with one another. The second one is a tale that began as a young photojournalist taking in a web designer and they become more than just roommates.  I'll have that story posted within the next day or two.

A friend of mine, Michael C. Laney, has kicked off his 12 Days of Creepfest blog tour.  A writer of erotica horror, Laney crafts a horror-day story that's guaranteed to leave you speechless and turned on at the same time.

I hope everyone takes time out and read Laney's works. I'm getting started tonight.

Love,
Sylvia

Monday, December 5, 2011

New Job

I received an opportunity to expand on my writing skills. I will be a guest blogger for After Dark Online, a site that hosts stories by other independent writers in the erotica genre.   I haven't decided what topic is going to cover yet, the owner assured me that I can write on a variety of topics. I also have a poem coming out in an anthology next month so I'm happy about that.  It's a nice way to end 2011 and usher in 2012.

A great friend of mine, Naomi Shaw, just released her debut e-book on Smashwords.  I have yet to read it and give it a review.  I told her I'll give her the link to my blog and I'll link hers to mine.  Speaking of which, I should do a Blogroll on here of my friends' pages that are independent writers as well.

Time to go back to work and finish out this semester of school!

Love,
Sylvia 


Thursday, December 1, 2011

Welcome to Sylvia G. Walker's Blog!

Welcome to my page.  I will post original short stories, poems, and essays as I go along on this journey.  Soon, I plan on having guest bloggers join me here to discuss their writings and links to their pages as well. It's going to be a wild ride.


Sincerely,
Sylvia