Quick Pitch: In book one of three, a 29-year-old career exhausted Nia is reborn on the beaches of Miami–thanks to a life-altering ménage à trois with a married couple–and she’s no longer looking to fit in but to live out her most savage sexual desires even if that means losing a best friend and a true love along the way. It’s a journey of self-assurance, testing her dedication to lust over love and figuring out what life can be if there are no sexual boundaries — no box or label to contain a woman’s purest instincts.
Word count: 55,000
Market: Upmarket, African American erotic, women fiction story
Edition: Book 1 of 3
Chapter I – Freedom Defines Itself
The nightingale sings of freedom.
Under the stars, under the moon’s smile.
She goes to his call willingly,
Without thought or sense, just hope she’s held for a while.
In spite of what the darkness might hold,
She remains steady in her flight.
For she hears of freedom, soulful awakens.
Everything that finally felt right.
-Nightingale
My pen kisses my notebook like the Miami sun rays on my soul. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like writing. It’s been even longer since I’ve really felt anything other than short deadlines, broken promises and jealous views from the sidelines. But the words are just pouring out of me, just like back in college.
My first year there, when I thought I was going to be a singer or something musical, I used to write for hours on hours, just waiting for the right line to fall on to the paper. And it did many times, but I never did anything with those words. I never tried to sing their song. I never even tried to get someone else to read or feel them. They became just words that I placed away in an envelope, or maybe an old school folder. I can’t remember. Either way I did nothing with my heart’s song.
In Miami, I started hearing the notes again. The melody started growing louder like horns blasting up and down Ocean Avenue and then, almost like I was back in my early Nightingale dreams, the ones where I would do an impromptu poetry slam or the top artist would choose my lyrics for their album, I heard the rise of notes. New notes though, that weren’t innocent, but intense and sensual. The silence has been broken and I refuse to let anyone shut me up again.
I’ve brought it all back with me. I’ve had to. I already know that no one will believe that me, the conservative workaholic who was married to her computer and cheating with her “employee of the year” parking space, not only travelled by myself to the land of sun and fun, but I let that old, constraining persona float away with the morning tides after understanding that my mind and my body deserved so much more.
One weekend. Two long, sweaty nights. Three souls elevated to constant ecstasy.
Finally, I learned to lived, letting go of needing to know what’s next or even the worries behind what others would think. I completely let my mind and body loose on the city.
I smell the sweet aroma from my blooming white Hydrangea from across my room. Much like my soul, the petals reach for the sun and take in each beautiful ray.
The warmth of the new day pleases us both.
My sensual senses are alive. I can’t write enough words to describe this feeling and it’s such a beautiful problem.
Who knew that an unexpected meeting with Andrew and Monroe Robinson on the plane would be the precursor to events that would shift my being to something raw and sexy? Even now, I can feel Monroe’s petite hands caressing my breasts as Andrew explores my pink palace where fountains overflow and only kings can enter. He now owns a permanent spot on my royal guest list.
Their marriage is one that I’ve never seen before but it works for them, and that weekend, it worked for us.
They introduced me to a woman I’d never met before; Savage. I don’t know her actual name but she lives deep within my instincts, constantly clawing at my thoughts and purring at my progress. I imagine that she lives under the canopies of tall and wide Wimba-like trees that shade not only her but the creatures roaming nearby—they are drawn to her essence and worship each step she takes. They coo her to sleep at night and she wakes from their morning songs. There it rains daily as she baths in the warm pool nestled next to her cave. She thrives in her natural habitat, aroused by its raw scents of citrus and lush ferns blowing against her skin as she stands to embrace the sun. I’m not sure why it took so long for us to meet but I’m excited to finally connect with her. And the great thing is, she’s amazing. So amazing that I’ve decided to let her roam free with no limitations.
Everything about this woman is beastly; she thirsts for attention, their attention, and she receives all the attention she can savor. From the first night with an insatiable Ménage à trois that satisfied new urges in the fem savage, to a weekend full of laughs, liquor, and love. Love for the new connection made and a weekend we could never forget.
But, it’s time to get back to reality. The world with them was fun and now my secret. They’ve taught me so much in our short time. Beyond the unforgettable way that they melted my body with tender kisses and warm touches, they’ve shown me that what the world wanted only mattered if it was what I want too. And it’s not. I may be getting back to a normal workweek, but the old me is gone.
I want to live free every day. Not bound to my desk or to other’s desires or needs. Not captured in the opinions of what and how a successful professional black woman should act. The limitations to my desires have been a ploy by society to keep my real beauty from showing. The beauty that runs deeper than my skin tone, and wider than my hips. I must create a new normal.
Or, maybe I should just roll with this feeling and do what I love overseas under an umbrella, on a beach in Mykonos, sipping a frozen drink and planning a visit to Mykonos Vioma to taste the honey and look for a nightingale or two. Then maybe later that night, I would find the right guy to spend time with making conversation that couldn’t keep us away from a bed too long. There is where I would introduce him to the Savage. Her hums in my ear would drive me to do all that I wanted and get all that I could feel from him. Her hands would become mine and we would taste him together, savory every ounce of his desire. She’s powerful and I plan to make that power my own.
What a welcomed transformation. What an incredible teacher. And I have the Robinsons to thank for my feeding my growing affliction. My urges continue to grow and the Savage continuously claws at my reality.
After Miami, I really don’t have a choice. Freedom is all I want and yearn for; No matter what the world thinks. Shit, the world is more than welcome to join me on my freedom ride to a new life full of mental, spiritual and physical independence. Or they can just stand by and watch this nightingale take flight.
….
7:30 A.M. The alarm is blaring but the thought of walking back into the office delays my desire to get up. Today is the day I go back to the black hole of monotony. I just can’t wait.
Turning over to feel the rays grace my face, I debate if this whole working thing is for me.
I’d prefer laying in my bed with a beautiful man next to me, still pushing inside of me from our previous night of delight. I flip over to the other pillow and image him, laying there with beads of sweat still rolling down his chest and a smile bright enough that it could embarrass the sun. His eyes would worship my face and his hands would adorn my skin, connecting us in every way.
What a perfect dream.
But around my room, in my two-story townhouse owned and paid for by me, stand mirrored furniture that I’m still paying on and a closet full of clothes that all look the same I hate wearing.
Fuck that closet, the Savage snarls. She’s right because do you know what’s really in that closet? Shit that I was told I should wear. Pants suits and long skirts with button-up blouses. Oh, and cardigans, so many cardigans because showing too much skin was so “unprofessional”. At least that’s what my professor told me in college. It’s a closet full of costumes that I’ve collected over the years to make others feel more comfortable around me. Not too sexy. Not too much attention. Not too much personality.
Fuck that closet and those who love those constraining ass clothes. I couldn’t agree more Savage.
Well, if I want to replace everything in that closet, I’m going to have to work, right? I do have bills to pay and a lifestyle to keep up. Wait, not keep up, to recreate. So, I’ll go for now, but I will see my dream lover soon. I’ll feel the depths of freedom before I know it. There is too much life out there; too much pleasure to give and receive to keep going like this.
I’m such a fool. I shake my head at this newness, this new thought process and all. Not working wouldn’t have crossed my mind three weeks ago, but today it seems feasible. It’s only a matter of time before I’m willing to free myself on all levels. But for now, I’ll be patient and see where this new journey takes me.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I look into the vanity mirror and see something glowing in it. My skin. New and fresh. I wonder how long I can keep this look?
Just last week, my reflection intimated me. Scars in all the wrong places. Scars that used to remind me of my darkest moments now energize me and move me to a higher plain. They’re badges for the path I survived—reminders that there is only up from here. It’s my time to enjoy myself.
I rub my dent under my lip for the first time in years; a scar that used to embarrass me so much I was willing to walk around with a big-ass bandaid on it in high school. And once I was in college, I’d pour makeup all over it. Anything to make it disappear for a few hours. Funny thing is, from this angle it looks more like a meticulous stroke in my new masterpiece.
Heat continues to creep through the window shades, crawling around my thigh, over my stretch marks and up along a dark wound on my belly. Residues left from gaining my “grown woman weight” as my mother called it and surviving a near-death tragedy, all within my college years. This morning I see hints of glitter cover them. Is my black girl magic finally showing?
I don’t need anyone to tell me that I “look different” because that’s apparent. I do wonder what Alexi will say.
Miami was a week ago and with the additional time I’ve taken off, I’ve tried to embrace my newness. Beside my sexual revitalization, I’ve been writing my thoughts, wants and fears in a journal. Without the Robinsons, I’ve needed something to capture my intimate thoughts. I can’t afford to disregard who I really am – salacious urges and all. I have to continue to embrace these desires and emotions at every turn.
As the sun glides over the horizon, I can’t help but want to watch it in the warm August air. On the walk to my patio doors, I make a quick cup of Cafe’ Bustelo—a little piece of Miami that will now become a staple in my kitchen. The rays climb the sky as I step outside the doors.
Inhaling and exhaling each beautiful beam, I bask in the new day. Work or not, it is going to be a good day.
“Hey Nia, how was…oh shit!”
I heard Bruce’s voice, my BFF of a neighbor. Through the gate, I see him timidly looking away from the fence. Reminds me of when we first met, he wouldn’t look at me in the eyes and I’ve never known why. Here he goes again.
Wait. Looking down at myself I realize that I forgot to put on pants or a shirt or even a bra. I laugh like a pastor who just cussed in front of his congregation—not quite embarrassed because he knows he can talk his way out of it. Shit, I don’t have to explain myself. The way my skin was glowing and how it feels outside, he should be thanking me for a little morning delight. Running inside to throw on clothes to make him feel comfortable ain’t the answer. I’m finally comfortable with me and just like the rest of the world, he’s going to have to get comfortable with all of this.
From your messy bun down to your hot pink toe nails, Savage nods.
“Hey Bruce! How are you?” I yell back at him trying to continue the conversation. One of his eyes peeps through a gap between the fingers of his blocking hand. Maybe he’s trying to see if I’ve finally clothed myself, or maybe he’s just getting another good look. He quickly turns his head again. It must be the first part.
“I’ve been fine. You know. Fine. Just fine.” He blurts out.
Ha! Let me take a sip of this perfect Cuban coffee and test this man. Taking a few steps closer to the fence, I wait for our next words.
“So, Miami was good?” He asks.
“Yeah, it was great! Great weather and great people. It was a freeing experience.” I saunter toward him, trying to peek through the fence and catch his glance just for a moment. I wonder how long he is going to continue to not look. Savage giggles at his behavior and then walks away, unimpressed. How childish of him?
Briefly, his hand falls from his face and he takes in another full view of my shimmering caramel skin under the rays. Then again, he puts it back over his eyes. Come on Man, you can do this. Stumbling back, he falls over a crate with a loud thud. He’s trying so hard to be polite. That’s cute. Impervious to his coyness, Savage shakes her head and walks back into her cave.
“Hey, I’ll talk to you later. Okay? I’ve got to…uhhh…I’ve got to go fix my plumbing. I mean to wait on the plumber. I’ve got pipe issues.”
“Really?”
“Okay.” Gliding back to the patio door, I try to calm his mind. “Maybe I’ll come by later and we can catch up on our show. I missed the last two episodes.”
“Yep sounds good.” His fading voice was evidence that he couldn’t get inside his house quick enough.
Before I step back in the house, I grab a few more moments with these rays. Probably for the last time today. It feels good to finally be me. The new, happy with what I got and confident about what I can get me.
I hope Bruce gets his “plumbing” properly taken care of. Maybe I’ll stand out here for a moment longer to help.
—Two Hours Later—
Work starts off as it normally does; boring with early meetings about meetings from last week. Then a recap from the meeting last month, which means setting up two additional follow up meetings to figure out why those things still haven’t been met.
After having ripped apart my worthless closet, I found a mid-length dress, snug in all the right places and a bright blazer to complement its trim. I knew it would get me the looks I wanted. As soon as I stepped off of the elevator, whispers about there being something “new” or “refreshing” about me fill the air. Damn right there is!
“Nia, I hope this doesn’t come off or out the wrong way, but you look absolutely stunning. Did you get a tan?” Quinn, the regional director and my boss, always attempts small talk. Anything to make it seem like she cares before dropping a shit ton of work on your desk. I want to say “None of your damn business, so what do you want,” but I just settle on, “Thank you and yes. I believe I got a little one at least.”
Her smile reaches so far and wide across her face that for a moment, I think she might have snuck down to Miami and found out my secret. There’s no way she should have known. Could she? I start walking backward, trying to escape the conversation.
She continues on about her own tan, which she received from the tanning spa up the street. It was an odd conversation. Tanning seems to be a cultural faux pas between Black and White people. I never knew that White people could tell when black folks get a little sun-kissed, let alone felt comfortable in saying so. You learn something new every day. Or maybe my “new” vibe made her a little more comfortable in being herself. That’s cool too.
“So where did you stay? On South or North Beach? Did you meet someone…I mean that is if you aren’t already with someone?”
That’s a friend question. We are close colleagues but not friends. My glow must be captivating her because she never keeps a conversation going with me this long, let alone, about my personal business. But let me remind her that we aren’t on those terms.
“South Beach and I met a ton of people.” That’s all she needs to know. I could add, “but none who are relationship material,” to throw her off but there’s no need for me to lie. Half-truths are good enough. And who I met was much more than just relationship material. They were marriage material, at least for each other. My part in the relationship is still up for debate.
“Wow. Well, I want to know more like where you ate and if you went out to any bars or clubs. My boyfriend and I are trying to go next month. But, I’ve got to run off to this meeting.” With laptop and phone in hand, she quickens her pace almost to a sprint. That’s the director I know. Before she’s completely out the door she turns to yell back at me. “We’ll catch up more later. Okay?”
With a sure-whatever-the-fuck nod from me, she disappears down the hallway.
Heading to my desk, Alexi catches up with me. I’ve been looking for her all day.
“Hey Ms. M.I.A.!” She shouts alerting the entire floor that I’m back.
“You’re so freaking loud,” I answer her.
Alexi’s loudness isn’t a shock or surprise just another a friendly BFF observation. Everyone should have a friend that is outgoing, absolutely beautiful, outspoken (to a fault at times), and completely outrageous. Alexi is that friend for me. My best friend for over a decade, almost two to be exact.
“What!? A bitch can’t miss you?” She gives me one of her good-God-I’ve-missed-you-hugs and I know there is a story around it. Probably some freaky tale from the weekend.
“Are you good?” I ask.
“Nope!” She halts my questioning with a swift hand to my face. “We’re not starting with me, Bitch. What and who did you fuck in Miami?”
One day we’re both going to get fired. Her for being inappropriate and loud and me for backing her up, no matter how crazy she gets.
“Girl…stop.” I want to tell her about the trip, but it’s not a good time yet. I’m literally just sitting down at my desk since a week ago.
I control-alt-enter and log on.
“Come on Nasia Rhapsody Simone Carlie!”
I turn and flash my eyes at her for using my full government name in public. Everyone needs to know me as just Nia. Nothing more and nothing less.
“Are you really not going to tell me? I know you had a great time. Not only because you got away from this hell hole,” she swipes her hand at the cubicles circling us, “but as a pre-birthday celebration. Come on Nia…please give me the dets.”
You’re not ready yet, Sweetie. You’re just entering the pool. The sly voice of Savage whispers behind my ear and she’s right. I’ll tell her but not now. Not yet.
I let a blank stare rest on my face.
“Well since you ain’t sharing yo shit,” she pauses for an eye roll, “let me tell you about Mickey.”
Alexi starts in on one of her new salacious bedtime tales and she never spares the details. I do what I normally do when she gets going on stories about how “he did this with his tongue” and that with “three fingers and a thumb” making magic come out of her pussy; I start reviewing my emails.
Two-hundred and thirty-eight emails. Are. You. Serious? A flash of me from a week and half ago when I was at my computer spitting out emails and tied to the chair plays in my mind. I was a machine. A focused, boring-ass bot who had to answer everyone immediately, so they would know that I’m on my shit. But, I’m not a bot anymore. I’m a woman who is tired of acting like a machine.
“You know what,” I stop Alexi in mid-conversation. “Let’s go get some coffee.”
She steps backs with a grin on her face. “Say what?”
“Let’s go get some coffee.” I stand up and dig around my purse for my wallet.
She looks at my screen and then at me. “You don’t want to check some of those damn emails clogging your inbox?”
I look over at the screen and then at her. With a sly grin, I politely answer, “Nope.”
“I’m not sure what happened on your vacay, but something did.”
She doesn’t probe me with any follow up questions because she knows I won’t tell her until I feel like it. That’s what you get when you’ve been friends with someone since elementary – respect, support, and acceptance. The true definition of a sister from another mister. My story will be told one day; but first, coffee.
I wrap my arm with hers and head to the break room. “So, tell me again what he did with his thumb.”
Chapter 2 – Freedom’s Reign
This work week has drained all my senses. I was starting to feel like my old self, which was bullshit. I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it now.
I refuse to go back in my shell. Not now.
Normally, I would take myself on a date to the movies or maybe to my favorite seafood restaurant. Or, I would put on Sade, light some incense and finish the book that’s been resting on my nightstand for a couple of weeks now. Something low key and quiet.
Boring. Ass. Shit. Savage reminds me as she turns over to go back to sleep.
I can’t go back. Today is a different day. I pace the room, hoping that walking in circles will lead me to a different night. Tonight, has to be another step forward, not back. I look at the nightstand. Cleopatra’s Rise looks back at me. No. No reading tonight. Let’s work on Nia’s rise.
At my vanity, I place today’s jewelry in its box and notice an old movie voucher. When a book couldn’t cut it, I would take myself on a date. Yep, I’m only missing a cat or two.
But not tonight. No lonely theater or burnt buttery popcorn. No movie that I could have waited to see on red box.
No movie, unless it’s something directed by our hands, Savage suggests. Now that’s an idea.
I walk into the bathroom and stare at my reflection.
“If not that tonight, then what?”
Grabbing my makeup remover, I circle my cheeks with the wipe, slowly removing a workday look. Then I remember; I didn’t put makeup on today. The clean, glowing reflection in the mirror was me. Natural me. Free me.
I laugh with myself, by myself. If anyone was around, I’m sure they would think that I’m bat-shit crazy. But, what a feeling! Who knew this could feel so damn good? And it’s only the beginning.
So what now, Nia? Savage asks and before I can think back “nothing,” something hits me.
I face the dark cave holding clothes that I hate with almost every bone in my body and feel something calling me to the back. With a flick, the light is on and I am searching, ripping clothes down and looking for something. Anything.
Then I see it and know exactly what I need to do tonight. Racing back to my bedroom, tripping over a single flip flop that finally made it out of my suitcase, I launch for my phone on the bed.
“Call Alexi!” I yell at the phone.
One ring. Two rings.
“Hey Boo. Whatcha doing?” She answers.
“Getting ready to hit them streets and you are too.” I flip onto my back and smile. I’m sounding more and more like her every day.
The long pause that follows is necessary. She has to digest what is coming through the phone.
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Let’s go dancing or people watching. Just something where I can get cute. No, sexy.”
She gasps. “Sexy? Shiiiidddddd! What really went down in Miami, Nia?”
It’s such a valid question but one she would not know the full answer to yet. Maybe I’ll just blurt it out tonight.
For now, I just answer, “Not much,” another half-truth “other than me realizing that there’s a world out there that I’m missing. I don’t want to miss it anymore. Let’s go out. Pleeeease!”
“Girl you don’t have to beg me. I was going to swing by Mickey’s and break my own one-night rule, but divas before dicks. I’ll set something up.”
I knew she couldn’t resist. Alexi went out every weekend. Bar hopping with co-workers, throwing hundreds at a stripper or two thanks to her weekend sugar daddy, or just enjoying top shelf drinks in some celebrity’s VIP section. She was exactly who could help me with tonight’s desire. Some weekends, she’s exactly who I’ve wanted to be.
“Wait, I just remembered, Jared and Ken are having a party at this spot that just opened. We can make an appearance there first and if you’re not too tired after that, we can see what else pops off.”
“Sounds great!” My excitement and expectations for an epic night were growing. It wouldn’t be like Miami, but maybe I could get close.
Venue. Check. Now time for my outfit.
“What do you think about me wearing that pale pink mini?” It was the piece that had called me to the closet earlier.
“You mean the one you haven’t touched since. . .” she pauses to think and so do I. “Shit have you ever worn it?” Another good question. I’ve always worn loose and long dresses, something that didn’t bring too much attention to my frame. Mental baggage from my mother, but that’s not the case tonight. I’m yearning for all the attention.
“Nope, but tonight I’ll break it out.”
“I don’t know who or what has gotten into you, but Bitch, I like it!”
I like it too, growls Savage. The truth shall set me free. She’ll know soon enough that Andrew and Monroe are the “what” and “who” that got into me.
She speeds off the phone with an “I’ll be by around 9,” then we hang up. I put the phone down and look back in the mirror. There is something powerful sitting behind my eyes. Maybe confidence or a growing sexual appetite. Either way, I love how it makes me look and can’t wait to see how it makes them feel. Some will probably be scared, cautious of who I could be while others may fall under a spell and can’t disregard this new me. With eyes as pure and clear as ours, they will be lucky even if we let them taste us, purrs Savage.
—-One Hour Later —
The dress is flawless around my curves, so much so that underwear is unnatural for the look. Or maybe it’s just an unnatural thought at this point.
My shimmering watch tells me there are only ten minutes before Alexi arrives. Time for the finishing touches. I need something different to accentuate these big bold lips and newfound freed spirit. Something that makes it evident that this is a different night. Something that says I’m a new woman; an ambitious soul looking for an adventure.
Searching through the vanity, I pull out a color I wouldn’t touch before. I remember when Alexi made me buy it. It was trendy and scary as shit for me to think about wearing it, but tonight was the perfect night for me to introduce it to my lips. Reading aloud the color’s name warms my thighs and makes my mind roam.
“Succulent.” The perfect name for this deep plum and my lips. My juices were flowing, perfectly ripe for this exotic adventure.
The doorbell rings. She’s on time for once. I grab my nude stilettos and race down the stairs.
To my surprise, it is Mr. Clumsy, Bruce. He must have just gotten off work since he is still in his security uniform. A tight uniform at that. Oddly enough, I’ve never noticed his biceps before. The shirt hugs his muscle, highlighting not only their sizable form, but the light veins that run around them.
When did he get creamy butterscotch skin?
“Hey” he squeaks still sounding like that morning. It’s been almost a week since he peeked at my freedom, but I guess maybe he is still a little shaken.
“Hey B, what’s up?”
He looks me up then down, seemingly trying to understand who is this woman standing in front of him.
“Nia, you look…Unbelievable.”
He makes me blush. B’s a polite man and truly like a brotherly type to me so I’m not expecting that response. But, I guess I’m not expecting those beautiful arms of his, either.
“Wow,” I say, throwing a little dose of my own enthusiasm back at him. “Thanks B. I’ve never heard you say something like that before.”
“I’ve never seen you like this before. Totally different from earlier this week, you know, with clothes and all.”
We laugh and I’m happy to see that he may actually be pass it.
“But what’s up?” I try to hurry him along. “Alexi and I are heading out tonight.”
“Word. Well, I won’t hold you up.” He hands me a stack of mail. “Here’s your mail from those days you were gone. I was trying to give it to you early this week but…um….I couldn’t focus…I mean, I forgot to hand it to you when I saw you.”
So, he really enjoyed the view. Remember that, Savage advises.
When he hands me the stack, I notice another first; his hands are large. Specks of amber shimmer on his skin under the last rays of the sunset. I can’t help but look closer. His long fingers and clean nails make me wonder if he gets a manicure. Then I follow his sleeve, past his bulging bicep, up to his thick neck where a tattoo lurked.
Reaching my hand up, I move his collar down for a closer look. And he lets me.
“It’s my mom’s initials.” His voice changes from squeaky to clear and brass. Bruce is adopted and his relationship with his adoptive parents is strong. So much so that only a few people in the world know he is adopted; God, his parents and me. But, this is the first time I’ve noticed this beautiful gesture.
“You have a tattoo?”
I never imagined he would have the guts to do something like that. Not quiet B. I’d assumed that tattoos, piercings, or anything that involved painful pleasure just wasn’t up his alley. B’s usual boyish demeanor must have distracted me from the man who now stands in front of me.
“Yeah, Miss Judgmental!” He griped at me. With a cocked neck and a sly smile, he continues, “I actually have a couple.” He points to the left side of his chest and then his upper back.
“Really? I had no clue.” Intrigue is building and I can hear Savage’s footsteps creep to the front of my mind.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Nia.” His eyebrows furrow and his lips fall from a smile to a serious hard line. Not angry but intentional.
It’s so funny how a second or two, can be so full of change. In that second, B’s adolescent attitude has disappeared and an intense, beautiful man stands gazing into my soul.
Savage’s eyes open wider, wondering where this side of him has been too.
Butterflies stretch their wings in my stomach and my heart thumps a little louder – all in those seconds.
“Hey B, how about you come by this weekend, you know, to catch up on our show War Games? My question is mostly honest, except my body is looking to introduce him to a new game where he’s the storyline that I’m trying to catch up on.
Eyes wide with a Kool-Aid smile, he nods “yes,” seemingly answering my stated and implied questions.
Bruce Edmond now has a new meaning to me—a man of intrigue—and I am dying to find out more of what I didn’t know.
The blast from Alexi’s horn interrupts our seconds. He says goodbye and I wave at him as he walks across the lawn.
Huh, I’ve never noticed that before either. He has a cute ass.
“Bitch is you ready or nah!?” Ratchet Alexi is out in full effect.
I wave for her to come inside and head back up my stairs to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. In my room, I open my nightstand and pull out a vintage condom. The package is a bit faded so I rub it. Old but still oily. I’ll take it, just in case.
——- Hours Later ——-
“Where the hell is everyone?” Alexi yells over the blaring music. Fat Joe and Remy Ma would sound so much better if there was actually someone to enjoy them with. It is 12 A.M. and the club is only a quarter of the way full.
“I thought Jared and Ken were doing something?” I yell back.
“I just texted them. They said they’re on the way.” We glare at each other, side-eyeing their lame response. They said they were on the way over an hour ago.
“One more Sex on the Beach, please.” I request from the bartender. With an empty bar, he quickly takes care of my request.
The fog machine kicks on and it makes the place feel more deserted then it already is. Cologne mixed with hair stray join the fog and I choke on their concoction. When the fog starts clearing, I can see straight through to the other side of the club.
Such bullshit. This was not the night I had in mind. When I’m finally ready to go out into the world and show it who I am, the world stays at home. It’s like going to the store with money, ready to spend it and nothing cute is there, even on the sale racks. Savage is in full hibernation. Too bad. Maybe I can wear this dress another night soon.
Luckily, as my drink arrives, so do Jared and Ken and with them is an entourage that packs out the rest of the club.
“Fucking finally!” Alex shouts at me. She waves at the door trying to get their attention. Ken’s eyes hit hers and he gestures for her to come to them. Their section is on the other side of the room.
“Let’s go,” she rumbles. Her frustration is evident, but we aren’t going to let this night go to shit quite yet.
As I hand my card to the bartender, he throws his hands up. What!? With my head tilted to the side and confusion spilling out, I demand an explanation.
“It’s already taken care of,” he drawls, then turns and points down the bar to a man at the corner.
He’s dark and extremely tall, towering over everyone nearby. In his black and red graphic tee with “It’s just different” on the front, he’s definitely cute but still very average. I mean, not too bad on the eyes. Savage opens one eye, roused by what I see.
Look closer, Savage demands. She sees something I don’t, just like after my first night with the Robinsons. It was then that she showed me a purer being, someone whose body was imperfect in its more perfect form.
And now, I must look closer because she has yet to show me something I didn’t need to see. I was overlooking so much.
I watch as strobe lights glide over his clothes and then his face. I get a glimpse of his high cheekbones that lead to his grey eyes, shadowing his creamy dark chocolate skin.
He sharpens his smile and stares into me. He stands strong but lean, reminding me of a story about a black knight; one that sat at King Arthur’s round table. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned his name, Sir Morien, but I don’t plan on it taking me years to learn this ebony knight’s name. Or maybe it will.
A name is not necessary for our pleasure, Savage exhales.
My imagination takes him to a different place, one full of sunlight and warm breezes. He stands in a valley, lilacs and daffodils blow behind him. His shoulders are draped in silver armor with gold strappings pulling it together, glistening beneath the sun’s blaze. He doesn’t sweat even though he can feel a battle heading his way. He resets his stance, placing one hand on his scabbard and the other on the hilt of his sword. It’s only when he reveals another smile that I realize that he’s not ready to battle but to conquer; I am his desire to have and rule. His eye full of intent, look over my body, examining the specimen he wishes to slay calling about la petite mort; satisfaction at its highest.
Now, do you see?
I do Savage. He’s such a rare and welcoming sight.
A flood of new people crowd the space between us like a mirage. We stand locked in a glance with what seems to be maybe five steps between us, not thirty or fifty bodies. Blood rushes down my arms into my fingertips, wanting to reach for him just for a single touch. Anything to confirm that he is real. The swirling of music and chatter creates white noise to help me focus on the beautiful being in front of me. I inhale this opportunity, filled with possibilities. My lungs fill with anticipation of his lips pressing on mine, feeling his pulse jumping across my lips and wanting them in other pulsating places. I purse my lips and let a quiet grin grow. Lifting my glass, I nod “thanks” and wait for his next move.
“Girl come on! I don’t want those other bitches to take our spots.” Tugging at my arm, Alexi pulls me away from the ebony knight, but he isn’t done yet. Eyes still locked with mine, he steps away from the bar, tracking our next steps.
The Savage, now awake, enjoys his tenaciousness. Look, he can’t run from our essence. You are what he dreams about, the queen he desires to serve. Your rule is inescapable.
The VIP section was huge and seated right next to the stage in the elegantly renovated old opera house. The club takes on a different face now; bubbling with people dancing, drinking and laughing—full of life and vitality.
“Are you ok?” Alexi wakes me, aware of an old smile now plastered on my face.
“I’m good now.” I smile and refocus on my original agenda.
“It looks like you have a fine-ass admirer.” She points to the ebony knight. I almost forgot about him.
With remnants of Andrew still clinging to my reality, my tunnel vision kicks in on the ebony knight. His slow rock back and forth to the music, matches my sway. UGK’s “International Players Anthem” seeping with deep tones and raw lyrics, feed the heat growing between us. Let the blaze grow.
“I’ll be back,” I yell to Alexi who barely notices my departure. She’s enjoying a quiet, close conversation with her crush Ken in the back corner. She’s been working on him for weeks now and it looks like she’s finally getting ready to fulfill her wildest, wet dreams.
Pushing my way through the thick, overcrowded section, I attempt to step down. A hand reaches through the crowd to assist and guides me safely into his arms, away from the thirsty VIP onlookers. I happily follow his lead.
Pulling me further away from the section and closer to the center of the dance floor. I feel Savage pacing and prowling. Yes, go with him and show him who you really are.
The bass line resonates through my hips, making me gyrate at each drop. Good thing he was there to catch them. His arms tighten around my waist and we move in unison to the LP. Smoke fills the air around us and the faint smell of sweat circles us. Women on men and women on women work the dance floor. Blinking and strolling lights roll over us as we sync our bodies together; rolling and swaying, feeling and taking our time.
Tighter and tighter, he holds me. His air is warm with a hint of paradise. Closing my eyes, I fall onto his chest. With sensational wants running up and down my skin, I only want him to touch me more. And he does. His lips softly graze my ear, tickling possibilities— of unlimited ecstasy.
“Hi,” he whispers. Words that send an electric wave from my head, between my breasts and down my belly to find a home between my legs. His voice is raspy and low, but clear even under all the loud melodies.
Mouthing “Hi” to him, I save my voice. Let’s see where this energy takes us. Savage is focused and I need to keep up.
Slowly with my arms around his neck, I let my fingers seek out what he enjoys. Stroking his neck up and down, I feel him melt as he shuts his eyes and lets a delicious grin fall over his face. Found it. Savage purrs.
Unclasping my hands, I let them fall down his back, gently clawing at his shirt. His wide back is chiseled into the finest art. Muscles flex that can’t hide under his polo. I want to spin him around and rip off his shirt to kiss each intricate line, but Savage insists not yet. I follow her direction.
I could travel his back forever. My body heat wakes up his hands and he gradually moves them from around my waist and lower to my hips where he guides my body the way he wants it. Back and forth. In and out of him. Yes, please.
Then his hands slip further, gliding softly under my ripe peach. My natural juices heat up. His touch becomes more than what I want. I need it. One hand reaches further under my dress, meeting my skin with his.
Go further, Savage whispers laying on her side, waiting for me to do what she knows I’m yearning to try.
Who knows how many songs played or even what was playing then, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could break our melody.
A flash of Andrew’s arms locked around my hips, as we danced to Miami’s anthem, conjures up my freeing spirit.
Taking his other hand, I lead it to my left peach, coaxing it to join in on the fun. Then I take control, moving it as I desire, pushing it further under—skin to skin. Now his skin falls into my waterfall and the water is just right.
I look into his stormy eyes again and with parted lips, inhale his yearning air. His eyes lock on mine.
With his hand now feeling what I’ve been hiding, he lets two fingers slip through, parting my favorite pair of lips.
Yes, more please. Savage stands tall with her arms stretched to the heavens, begging the clouds to release its mighty storm.
Shots of lighting strike up and down my thigh, making it hard to stay in rhythm with the music; I focus on staying on beat with his fingertips. The ease and warmth of his fingers splashing in and out of me drives me crazy. Savage beckons to the sky. More now!
I pull his face into mine to taste his lips. So delicious. A little lick turns into a little peck, and then into an unforgettable kiss. His tongue in my mouth and me taking all its twist and turns. Fuck all this teasing.
Grabbing his wet hand from under my dress, Savage leads the way. Moving further and further into the darkest part of the club, past the masses entranced by the melodies, I eye our next stop—the men’s bathroom. The door slaps open as we pushed through.
Was someone in here? Who the fuck cares!
Turning to him, with his eyes wide and willing, I force him against the wall.
My eyes scan his body a second time, gazing from his perfectly lined haircut down to his golden Hermes belt buckle. My eyes dart a little lower. Interesting. I notice something thick and long captured between his thighs; I must release it.
Our lips meet again, this time forcing my tongue on his. While I enjoy his flavor, I use both hands to unbuckle and then unzip his pants.
No underwear. That’s new.
It was easy to find the caged beast, but its girth made it take longer to guide it to my safety. So unforgettably warm in my hands. I feel his heartbeat, much like I felt my own, growing between my legs.
Freeing my new friend, I spin around and place it softly between my cheeks, allowing him to greet my peach. It’s only the polite thing to do. I can’t be rude.
Bend over now, Savage yells, and I obey. His hands reach into his pocket to pull out a gold foil.
Savage covers her giggle with a hand. That’s not going to fit, but you can go with it.
With one smooth but quick thrust, he is inside of me deep and steady, feeling every warm inch inside of me. His arms hold me tight and I squeeze him tighter from inside. We share a perfect moment of silence before the show begins.
Am I really doing this? Do I even know his name? Hell, did I even ask? But this wasn’t my fault. My body was on its own mission. A mission that did not include reason or doubts.
Squeak. The door opens and two men walk in.
Oh. My. Shit! Reality hits me. My knight stops and so do I…but only for a moment.
So, what? You betta work, Bitch. Savage reminds me I am no stranger to company during sex.
Slowly, I bounce up and down on him, coaxing him over his hesitation. Turning to the men who were also in disbelief of what they had entered into, I realize I have the upper hand.
I direct the next scene. Time to have fun.
Looking at them, I lick my lips and direct my ass to do what it has patiently waited to do on my knight. What an exhilarating feeling. Freedom once more.
Soon I feel him again coming back to me. His drive is strong. My moans are sweet and in control.
Don’t let go yet, Savage hisses.
With a wink and smile to the men, I turn and fall to my knees in front of my knight. I kiss and lick my new friend. Then I take him in my mouth, deeper than I remembered I could do.
Andrew was the first man that I tried this with, and the only way I was successful was with Monroe’s coaching.
“Relax and hum. He can fit.” Monroe’s voice echoed through my mind.
He begins to shake from his imminent eruption. One of the men whispers, “shit” and at that moment, I wish I could have an outer body experience; standing back to watch myself do what I never thought I could. Freedom was taking me to new heights and more pleasurable flights. I must outdo my last organism by any means necessary and I’m on my way.
Lick. Taste. Kiss. Over and over again until he can barely hold himself up. Finally, he uses those wonderful back muscles to pick me up off the ground to thrust right into my sweet spot. I can no longer control my waterfall or my moans.
“Yes! Give me more.”
“More,” he grunts, bouncing me faster and faster on him. “More.”
My cove’s at full capacity. He’s coming and so am I. Together we let our electricity loose and free, jolting back and forth between our bodies. I collapse forward onto his chest. His arms shake from our impact and my legs dangle from the ecstasy.
I hear the door open and watch the two men slowly limp out the bathroom as they had been caught in the line of our monsoon. The clouds clear and we breathe in our warm air. Savage exhales and finds a bed of leaves to rest on.
“Wow,” my knight pulls me in closer to whisper but I’m much too busy enjoying our sweet steam. “I guess the show is over, huh?” We close our moment with a unified chuckle and one last embrace. He is right or now. Savage is satisfied for the time being. Lucky for him.
Chapter 3 – The Dedication
Dear mind,
I dedicate my body to your needs
To your dreams
To your desires.
Forgive me for taking so long
For prolonging singing the right song
For enslaving you for too many years.
My eyes and heart are open and yearning.
I’ll keep searching
I’ll keep moving toward a lifetime in this state.
You deserve it
I deserve it.
We will flourish and stay nourished
By the kiss of today’s glorious sun rays
And tomorrow’s promise that they will never fade.
With love and desire,
-Nightingale
The reflection of my glowing soul is an amazing sight this morning. I’m living what I’m thinking; what I’m wanting. Living it to its fullest and without hesitation or thought of consequences.
Consequences. The one thing that keeps Savage away. The thought that my actions will have some sort of a negative or unknown response, but still some repercussion, right? Maybe or maybe not.
Maybe that’s what society wants me to think. Maybe that’s what Mom was taught and she just passed it on down to me. And what a lie. A false perception of what actions have true consequences. How could being me and loving who I am and what I do have a consequence? Either you love me for who I am or you don’t. The real ones will always stick around.
Life is finally good for me now. My decisions don’t seem as bad as they looked months ago. I’ve been judging Alexi for her hoe-ish lifestyle but really, maybe she’s been free all these years and I’ve been the one behind the curve.
My vision is so clear now. I can see so much more than I was willing to see then. It all makes sense, not just on a sexual level, but on the simplest physiological level. Sex. We all need it as much as air and food but for years, I’ve denied myself such nourishment. Or when I did decide to enjoy with my first love, it was for his pleasure only—something to keep him around and make me feel okay. Mediocre at best.
No more. I’m getting to know what I really need and desire. I’m getting to know what I am willing to take and give.
Which is why this morning I choose to take Ronnie.
—
Office crushes are so cliché: You see a guy and he’s gorgeous. He works only cubicles away from you in the establishment where you’re not only making a lot of money but you’re highly respected. Layer that with being a black woman who is continuously ducking and dodging the Triple B—or colloquially known as the “Black Boss Bitch” stereotype—I’ve learned to speak up but in a low, non-imitating tone and to direct any spotlight to my business acumen and not personal affairs.
So, I have sucked my feelings up. I let my fantasy of taking out all my pent up silent desires on someone in some luxurious hotel room, among the lights of some romantic city, leaving me sore and satisfied for days at the office front doors. Work relationships are risky and not worth my time or career.
For years, I’ve hushed the feelings I’ve felt since the first day Ronnie shook my hand. That is, until Savage got a whiff of our possibilities; time to take what I want.
—Friday Morning—-
Fridays should be off limits for morning meetings. I mean, who wakes up on a Friday excited or even prepared to talk business when really you’re only focused on getting a margarita or two at 3 p.m.?
Fri-daze office meetings are the worse of the worse. Dragging on like a horrible porn flick—a lot of unnecessary moans, groans and no end in sight. There was an art to getting to the point, but my organization doesn’t have a creative bone in its infrastructure. It’s agonizing.
Today’s presenter spices up the flick just a little bit. He could have been the beautiful twin of Ron Jeremy in his prime. A smoky-eyed Italian guy to discuss event logistics who apparently wants to also present his soft curly-haired chest through his silky unbuttoned shirt. His jeans hug his waist low enough for me to guess where his low V begins and with each turn to the board, I see how his morning squats have been treating his ass. See you’re getting it my dear. The world is filled with beautiful creatures, you just have to know what you’re looking for, Savage reaffirms.
His look keeps my attention, but the business proposal pouring out of his mouth is no fun.
Good thing Ronnie is here to distract me. He’s such a good guy. He’s actually paying attention. How cute. With a profile perfect for a spread in GQ magazine, Ronnie feasts my eyes with the clinch of his strong jawline, and the twitch sneaking from his goatee.
He has some ambiguity about him. I believe he’s black, but maybe he has some Asian ancestry too. Or maybe some Latin blood moves through his veins. Either way, I knew he has come from a long line of fine-ass men. His straight edge short black hair against his auburn skin salute his exotic look.
How can we get to know him better? Savage chimes in. Our thoughts exactly.
My imagination starts taking my mind and body for a spin. Let’s see how creative I can get in these last twenty minutes of the meeting.
Dipping my mind’s brush in the cool auburn of his tone, I slowly stroke away his blue button-down shirt revealing broad shoulders and a thick neckline. Taking extra care to outline his pectorals with light shading from the office’s fluorescent lighting, I re-wet my brush with red and blue to slowly draw in his thumping veins. They add texture to his amazing canvas.
Then I allow the brush to dip back in light brown to focus on an even more detailed portion of his work. First, his lower abs are delicately drawn and stroked. I imagine my finger filling in his abdomen, circling left to right and then up and down.
My imagination soars to new heights. With no true reference available—oh how I wish for a real moment on this canvas—I set the brush down and pick up the pencil. This part of his masterpiece calls for meticulous detailing before a brush touches it. I draw his torso with unrelenting curves down pass his navel, on to his prevailing piece. My line goes longer, down along the middle of his thigh.
“Do you agree, Nia?” A question interrupts my artwork.
Everyone in the room waits for my response. To what, I have no clue.
“Yeah, it all seems to add up and make sense.” Such a generalized answer should out my lack of attention to the pornstar’s discussion, but everyone was agreeing with it. Another point for the Triple B. Now, back to my masterpiece—a masterpiece worth looking at and interpreting day after day.
Looking back up, I catch his eyes. He’s looking at me or maybe through me? Or maybe inside of me? Can he see my thoughts about his beauty? Can he foresee where my brush strokes were headed next? I hope so.
We could get right to the point, Savage suggests.
Soon the meeting ends with me even more confused about why I had to attend.
“Hey, Nia!” Thank God. Ronnie’s voice was a welcomed distraction from the thought of the hours I’ve lost from this worthless meeting.
“Hey,” comes out my mouth while I want you pours out my eyes, thanks to Savage.
“What did you think about that meeting?”
I thought about you, is what I want to say but only “It was fine…I guess,” comes out.
“Oh really? I thought it was pretty fucking boring. There was something more interesting that I noticed toward the end of it though.”
Really? Look at this guy. I’m shocked that he let the f-bomb drop so quickly, seeing that he always seems so shy. Maybe he was reading my mind. There’s something interesting going on with him, but what?
“Well, I zoned out for much of it. Did something happen?”
“I’ll just say this—a person’s eyes speak much louder than their voice could ever yell.” He steps further into my cubicle. I can’t help the smirk growing on my face.
“You can learn so much through a single look. Like what someone wants and who they desire. You know, like a peek into their soul for a quick moment.” He says as he comes in closer and I don’t know whether to move back or meet him halfway, so I just sit still and wait.
He leans in so close that the mint from his breath teases the back of my tongue.
He looks me over from my heels to my hair and meets my eyes back where he left them. I want him to touch me, but that would be harassment in the office—harassment that I desire very badly right now.
Refocus, Nia. This must be a ploy or test from the evil office gods. Maybe a manager or someone on the executive team saw my googly eyes and wants to bait me into an HR write-up. Or, is this just a sick joke that Ronnie is playing, testing my urges, only to leave me hot and bothered? I have no clue what blue balls feels like or if a woman can get an alternative feeling like “tight clit” or “pink slit” but I’m not going to let him juice me up even if Savage dares me to.
I spin back to my computer screen. “Sorry Ronnie, I have a ton of work that was just dropped on my desk.”
“Oh, my bad.” His voice grows dim. “Sorry to bother you.”
The momentary silence confirms his exit. I turn around as Alexi is walking up.
“He’s so dumb.” She mumbles to her chair.
“Who?”
“Ronnie. He had this big-ass grin on his face. I asked him what was up. He said ‘nothing’ but it’s something. That sly-ass smile won’t fool me. Oh…and his teeth are so damn white too!”
My fake laugh was so dry that I’m sure it would throw up a red flag, but it doesn’t. Thank God. Savage stretches and then curls up to lie back down.
I’m in control but Savage’s appetite is growing. Don’t get reckless Nia. Devouring Ronnie would be reckless, but what the hell was that all about with him? If it was a test, damnit I passed with flying colors. And if it wasn’t, did I just miss out on something delicious?
We’ve never had a quiet one before. You’ve yearned for him for a while now. You promised to stay free…but look at you now. Savage’s words haunt me for the rest of the day. No matter how many emails I send, how many phone calls I make, I can’t break my mind away from Ronnie’s innuendo. Is he really interested in my desires? And if so, how much?
Are you willing to find out? Savage asks with a demonic twist in her voice.
Maybe. I mean no. Possibly, under the right conditions. I don’t know.
You promised to stay free, rang through my head again. Yes, yes okay. I will find out. Next time.
Turning back to my computer, “yes” was now ringing through my head. Then I notice an email from B.
Subject line: Good morning.
He must be going out of town. That’s the only reason he emails me. I open the message.
Hey Nia,
I don’t mean to bother you but in case you forgot, you’re going to get your ass whooped this weekend at our annual Game Night! What do you need me to bring? I’m bringing Dirty Dee as usual so you know what’s about to go down.
Darion Jackson, or Dirty Dee, B’s best friend is guaranteed straight hood-ass fun at its finest. It’s so weird that he’s B’s right-hand-man. They seem so different. It’s got to be a Jay-Z and Kanye thing; what we see on the outside will never tell of their quiet talks and brotherly bond. I read more of his email:
Let me know what time we are starting and what to bring and we’ll be there.
Last question, should I come with or without a shirt? I didn’t know if you were starting a new trend in our friendship. You know, just coming as we are. Just j/king…I think.
B
It was a good joke. One I haven’t thought much about until recently—B without a shirt that is. It’s a picture that I wouldn’t mind peeking at but, how could I? It’s only B. But a girl can dream.
My response was going to be as witty as his. Game Night is always the best. Let me remind Alexi too.
I turn to Alexi’s cube and I’m met by the clicks of Quinn’s heels on the hardwood.
“Nia, I’m so glad you’re here.” She’s in rare form this afternoon with a black and white striped suit. The wide legs cover her gorgeous black Manolo Blahnik heels and her V-neck blouse isn’t disguising her recently bought double D’s, like they were earlier. She’s upgraded her look and must be trying to impress someone. Here we go.
“I just got a call from James in the West Coast office and he is sending a new potential client our way this evening. He could be a new multimillion-dollar portfolio.”
I smile through my annoyance since I know exactly what’s coming next.
“I know you just got back from a vacay but can you run this meeting with me?” She bites her lip in anticipation of my answer but she knows I have to accept. If I don’t, who knows what bullshit she will give me next week. I’ve always been clutch around here; that one person you call when no one picks up. I’m the last minute save, there is no one else who would even think to break their current plans.
It’s a gift and a curse. Mom drilled in the importance of being accountable and responsible. Two things she had to learn the hard way when Dad died. And above all, be loyal. Loyalty keeps me available for late night meetings and weekend projects. Honestly, it’s more like If I make them, or Quinn happy, then they should leave me alone, even if it means biting a bullet or putting on a mask.
To everyone else, I was married to my desk and a parking spot, but I wasn’t working hard for my job, it was more to please others. Alexi sees right through it, which is why she made me go to Miami. She saw what I couldn’t, pieces of me evaporating to please others. I have always been the woman behind the work dying to be “loyal” to others. But what about me?
Exactly! What about your loyalty to us, your loyalty to living a life that’s dedicated to you? Savage surfaces from her pool of purity, walking and talking me through another step down this path. Thank you, Savage.
“Quinn unfortunately, I’m not available tonight. And if I’m being honest, I’ll only be available with some notice. I’ve started working on some important projects outside of work so, if you want me to attend things of this importance, I’ll just need a little cushion. You know, to fit it into my schedule.” I fight hard not to end it with “does that work for you?” seeing that I don’t give a damn if it did or did not.
Her eyebrow arch and a grin crawls up one side of her mouth. I wasn’t expecting that.
“You know what, I do understand.” She steps back and gives me two slow nods. “I appreciate you being honest and I promise next time to give you a heads up.” I nod back. A mutual understanding with her is a bit shocking but necessary.
She finishes the conversation with a good evening salute and turns to walk away. Two steps down the aisle she turns back to me.
“Miami was good for you, huh?”
“Absolutely.” I smize out.
….
The Chronicles of DNC 