"You should have been on the pill!" "You should have worn a fucking condom!" "I was stoned!"

CHAPTER 5.
YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ON THE PILL

1.
Anastasia was exhausted. She’d spent the last 10 hours cleaning Benji’s bachelor pad. At one point she’d thought: Maybe it would be a better idea to burn this bitch down. This was ironic as years later his apartment burned to the ground as a result of 3 lazy, 40-year old niggas who still lived with their mom—who smoked weed in the basement rather than going outside as their mother wouldn’t allow drugs or alcohol in her home.  She headed to the bathroom and noticed that the ceiling fan was more dust than fan. Fuck that. He can clean it. She began to turn on the shower but decided against it; given her current situation. She ran a bath and climbed in for a soak. 

Later she was awakened by the tell-tale jingle of keys. She looked at the clock. It was 6:00 PM when she climbed into the tub. It was now 7:15 PM Fuck! I was in here for an hour?  “Holy shit! What happened?” Benji said. His place was sparking clean. She had scrubbed every nook and cranny of his tiny studio apartment. “Honey? Are you still here?” he asked. “Just a minute!” she said. Benji tossed his bag on the floor. “I fucking heard that. Pick up your god damned bag, and your shoes and put them in the closet! I worked my ass off to clean this place!” she yelled from the bathroom. “Damn. Sorry!” he said. He walked to the closet and tossed his items in. 

“I got some really strong weed!” he said. “No thanks. I’ll roll you one though.” she said from the bathroom. “Ok. Weird. Not like you to turn down weed.” he said. “Hey we need to talk. Pass me a towel.” He went to the closet and snagged a clean towel from a pile he assumed she had just washed. “Shit! You did the laundry too! I fucking love you!” he said. “How else was I supposed to take a shower? You have to step up your game B.I.G!” she said. “B.I.G? Huh?” he was confused. “It’s an acronym for your name. Benji Idris Gillis equals BIG. I decided that Benji sounds like a dog’s name and Benjamin is too formal. It sounds like a 18th century lawmaker.” she laughed. She left the bathroom and headed to the closet. She tossed the towel into the hamper and rifled through his clothes until she found a shirt she could slip into. “Oh so you are you are spending the night?” he asked. She slipped on a short sleeve with a band logo. “No. I just really really really like ‘The Hush Sound’.  I love them.” she said flatly. 

“Mine too! How come you never told me—oh you’re being sarcastic.”
“Yup.”
“Fuck you.”
“No.”
“God damn it Anastasia! I can never tell when you are joking or not.”
“It’s one of my charms.”
“You have none.”

“Bitch I’m adorable!” she said “The weed is on the table, I’m going to shower.” “Okay.” she said. Benji headed to the bathroom as she went to his tiny coffee table and retrieve the bag. She opened a drawer and found his rolling papers and a pack of White Owl cigarillos. “Do you want a joint or a blunt?” she yelled. “Dealers choice kitten.” he said. She initially decided on a joint as she felt a blunt was a waste of weed—but considering the news she had to break she wanted him faded. She grabbed the blunts and removed one from the 3-pack. She then split it open with one of her longer nails and dumped the tobacco into the trash. She found her weed grinder in her purse and turned 1.5 grams of the sticky bud into a course powder. A few licks later and she had a fat, perfectly rolled blunt. She inhaled deeply. God damn it I am going to miss this!!  

Saying that she loved weed wasn’t good enough. In fact on their first date Benji asked her to describe how much she loved weed. She thought about it for a long while before she replied. “Put it this way—if ‘weed’ were a good looking man—I would crawl naked across glass—to eat the pussy of the last girl he fucked. That is how much I love weed.” she said. He instantly loved her. 

Maybe just one puff? I mean how much would it hurt? I mean my mom did heavy drugs when— Benji interrupted her train of thought. He walked into the room wearing boxers and a t-shirt with a multitude of holes. “Oh god damn it Benji buy new shirts!” she said. “Aint nobody got not shirt money! Between textbooks, rent and utilities I’m left with -34.00 dollars every month.” he replied. She couldn’t even argue. He was right. Chicago was a terrible place to live if you weren’t rich. 

Many of the aid programs they offered were given exclusively to the friends and family of those who administered the funds. Sure they would help a few random people—but this was just for show and to keep the feds off their backs. Anastasia couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from the city. “Damn baby!! You rolled half the bag of weed!” he said. “No I didn’t. I used my grinder which allowed me to spread the weed evenly. It just looks bigger because there aren’t random clumps.” she said. “Hmmph. I should get a grinder.” 

“BIG, do you know how much weed you waste by not using a grinder?”
“A bunch?”
 “Yes. A bunch.” 
“Get me one for my birthday then.”
“No. We have more important things to be spending money on.” 
“Huh? Like what?”

“Just stuff! Smoke the damn blunt. I like the smell.” She was getting visibly frustrated with him. If Benji noticed he didn’t show it. God damn he is oblivious. She was right. He was the quintessential guy in that regard. In fact he had no idea that they were dating. She had to sit him down and explain it to him after a week. “I don’t make it a habit of fucking men I don’t intend on dating you idiot!” she had said. She was angry as hell until she realized that he really was sincere about not knowing. “I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t think a girl like you would want me.” he had said to her. “I normally wouldn’t. But you’re confident and I like that. You should probably stop over thinking things.” Of course he never did.
“Shit! I am high as fuck! Are you sure you don’t want any of this?” he asked; offering her the rest of the blunt. “I’ll pass. How are you feeling?” she said. I’m ok. Work was a bitch. I met Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy today. Bob brought him into the store. They are touring with them. I hope he gets me on the list when they come back to Chicago.” 

A silence lingered between the pair. “Fuck it. One drag won’t hurt.” she said; snatching the blunt from his hand. She took a long haul off the blunt that damn near burned it into a roach. “Damn baby! Slow down! Wait won’t hurt what?” he said. She climbed into his lap and kissed him; blowing her exhale into his chest. The method is really the only way couples on a budget should smoke weed. You get more bang of your buck, waste less weed, and you get to kiss your loved one. It’s win-win. He slipped his hand under her shirt. She grabbed it and twisted. 

“Ouch! God damn it why are you so strong?!” he said thinking back to a time when he saw her lift his oversized sofa bed with one hand. “Not that kind of party cowboy. We need to talk.” she said. “About what?” he asked. “Finish your blunt.” she said. He complied. When the blunt was finished he was so high that he drifted off. “BIG!” she yelled. He woke up abruptly. “Damn baby! What?!” he said. She straddled him and spoke.

“I’m pregnant.”
“Huh? Wait. Who—? Wait what? 
“Who? Me stupid!”
“W-wait, are you, are you sure?” 
“I took seven pregnancy tests.”
“Seven? What? Why? Huh? But did you go to the doctor?”
“Yes. He confirmed it all.” 
“What!! How! I mean I know how but like—you can’t be!! When?
“Calm down. I’m 100% sure.”

Benji’s posture began to waver. “Anastasia. We can’t have a kid.” he said. “Oh I 100% agree, but it’s done now. We’re going to just have to work with the little bit we have.” she said. He felt faint. A solid 20 minutes of silence passed. She sat still—resting in his lap—her head on his shoulder. “Anastasia” he said; feeling faint. “Yes?” she said. “You have to have an abortion.” he said. A millisecond later he passed out. 

2.
Benji rose an hour later. Everything was foggy. His vision was blurry and out of focus. “H-hun? Are you here?” he asked. “Yes.” she said from the desk in the adjacent room. She stopped playing candy crush and headed back to the living room. “I must have crashed out when I got off work.” he said. “Oh yeah?” she said. How was work?” she asked. “It was…..I don’t remember. They must have worked my ass off today. It seems like I had something important to say.” Anastasia said nothing. She had a blunt in her hand and sparked it. She took a drag and passed it to him. “Enjoy.” she said. Benji notice a hint of annoyance in her tone—but he had that affect on her often, so he paid it no mind. 
She sat down next to him and crossed her legs. She was now wearing a pink wife beater a blue jean vest and jeans. Her hair was buzzed short and she had reinserted her lip ring. “You want a hit beautiful?” he asked. “I’ll pass. Are you high?” Benji felt a bit dizzy. “I think—I dunno. I feel weird.” he said. He attempted to stand but found himself back on the couch a second later. “Damn! This weed is strong.” he said. “Yeah? Hey we should talk.” she said. “About what?” he asked.

“Us.”
“What about us?”
“Where this is going.”
“Hun, this will go wherever you want it to go. I’m just glad to have you around.”
“That’s nice. I’m pregnant.”
Benji laughed. “Ha ha! You’re funny.”

“I’m not joking. I took several pregnancy tests and I went to the doctor.” 
“W-wait. What?! Are you fucking serious? How did this happen—I mean I know how this happened—but how did this happen?” Benji was frantic. He felt woozy. “Well you see when a man and a woman sorta like each other sometimes they get really fucking high and forget to wear—“ she began. “I get the how! I mean. Oh my god! Fuck my life!” he exclaimed. The room was spinning. He was short of breath. “Hun. You have to have an abortion as soon as—“ He passed out before finishing his sentiment.

3.
“Benji.” the voice said. “Uaaarrrghhhg.” he replied. “Was that even English?” Everything was black. He could hear; no—he could communicate, though not with his mouth; he didn’t have one. The place he currently resided in was formless. Everything was black. Everything was silent. He was nowhere.

“Where am I?”
“You are in the ether.”
“W-what?”
“You are in the void. The Twilight. Keep up kid.”
“Huh? This is crazy! What is going on?”

“Lots. I’m a psychological fail safe that your psyche created to force you to see reality when your ego hides you from the truth.”

“Yeah cause that isn’t weird. Listen I don’t have time for this bullshit, so I need to have a nice dream with Mya, and Erykah Badu in a 3-way or I need to get REM sleep. Either way, I don’t have time for whatever this is. I have class in the morning.”

“You talk too much. Also this isn’t a dream.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
“It’s not.”
“Sure it’s not.”
“Not at all. This is a pocket dimension your psyche created long ago. Do you remember the trauma that first created this place, as well as me?

“I don’t even know what the fuck you are talking about much less where this is.”

“Good. You didn’t want to remember the incident. But right now you are caught in a pretty fucked up situation. Deep down you know what is happening but your ego is protecting you from the truth. I intend to change that.”

“Uh sure. Can I wake up now?”
“Listen. You are being very childish about a certain situation and normally I’d let you do you, but I’m afraid you are going to end up dead.”
“Seriously where the fuck am I?”
“Are you even paying attention?”
“I would be if you would stop speaking in riddle!”
“Look nigga I don’t have time for this. You have no idea what is coming in the next few years. It’s my job to prepare you.”
“Prepare me for what?”
“Do you remember the trauma that created me?”
“I don’t even know what the fuck you are talking about!”
“God damn it you are frustrating! Think back. You were 4. Think about the pain. Think about the betrayal. You came here then and haven’t visited since. Still, we’ve been watching you.”
“We? Huh?”
“Is huh the only word you know?”
“Huh? I’m kidding seriously what the fuck is going on. Am I on acid again?”
“No.”
“Mushrooms?
“No. Benji….”
“Yeah?”
“Try to remember the knife.”

The memories flooded in; storming across his consciousness. He was in complete turmoil. He remembered. He was so young. He had buried the memory so deep that he had forgotten it existed. “W-why are you doing this. Why did she do it?! Why did she do it?!” He was emotionally wrecked. “She had to. You were a rotten child. But that is all I can tell you now. You have a more immediate problem that needs to be addressed.” the voice said. “Like what?” he asked. “Well for starters you keep smoking weed and passing out. I’ve counted twice so far.” 

“Ok. But why? None of this makes sense. Seriously, who the fuck are you and why can’t I see you.”
“If you would shut up for a second I will explain.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You don’t have ears right now you are in the ether. You know what? Nevermind. When you wake up you are going to remember none of this. I reside in your psyche so I see things you do not.”
“Go on.”

“As I said when you wake up you won’t remember any of this so I am setting a condition in your subconscious that will trigger a particular group of memories. The moment you hear the word B.I.G. you will remember it all. You won’t remember this conversation or me but you will remember this.”

“God, just tell me already!”

“You know what? If I wasn’t a part of you I wouldn’t tell you shit.” The voice began explaining the situation. Benji was shocked to hear what was happening to him. He found it unbelievable though he was still certain that this was a dream but he went along with it. 
“Now remember, when you hear the name ‘B.I.G’ you will remember everything aside from what we talked about.” the voice said. “Got it. Wait, but what that name? It sounds like something—“ 

“BENJI! WAKE UP!” Anastasia yelled. “I’m up! What?? What’s going on?? he said; propping himself up on the couch. “You passed out.”
“Wow really?”
“Yes.”
“I had some weird dreams.” 
“Oh yea? About what?”

“I—I don’t remember.” he said. “Ok listen. I’m fucking pregnant. I took seven God damned pregnancy tests; saw my gynecologist; and I am 6 weeks in. Were going to have a baby.” she said flatly. “Wow. Holy shit! Wait, only 6 weeks?! Listen I’m going to go to transfer money from my savings. We need to go to the abortion-“ he passed out—yet again.

4.
It was 9:00 PM when Benji woke this time. His head was killing him and he was in bed. He attempted to sit up but gravity disagreed with him. He was nauseated. Anastasia was in his tiny kitchen. “H-hun? Is that you.” he asked. “Yes. Making a pizza.” she said. He sat up. “Wait, when did I get in bed?” he asked. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I guess. I did skipped dinner. Hun? how did I get in bed? I think I had a weird dream. Are you ok?” he asked. “I’m fine, but we need to talk.” she said. “Check the nightstand there is a blunt there.” He glanced at the night stand and saw a blunt coupled with a lighter. 

“I see you found my weed.” he said. “How was work?” she asked. A distinct feel of Déjà vu washed over him. “Hey. Seriously, how did I get into the bed. I don’t even remember getting home.” He was perplexed.  She placed a plate on the coffee table. “Eat something you will feel less nauseated.” she said. He couldn’t argue with her.  His stomach was turning. He stumbled to the couch and collapsed. “I feel awful.” he said. “You should light that up we need to talk.” she said. “About what?” 

“I’m pregnant.” she said; cutting to the chase. “W-what the fuck! he said. “Yup.” “What are we going to do?” He was flustered and the waves of déjà vu were crashing into his psyche. “Were going to deal with it is what were going to do.” she said. He paused a moment; sparked the blunt and took a few puffs. “I guess you’re right. Shit happens.” he said. That stopped her flat. She eyed him for a while then joined him on the couch. “Good idea. B.I.G.” she said smiling. BIG? That sounds familiar. he thought.
That was when the déjà became a complete memory. He believed knew what was happening and he was furious, though he kept his cool. 

“Anastasia.”
“Yes?”
“We can’t afford a child.”
“Not the kid’s fault.”
“This isn’t about shifting blame, it’s about being reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable. We made the mistake and we owe a penance for it. Those are the laws of nature and we have to abide by them, otherwise—chaos. Nature has never been a democracy. You either get in line with its laws or you suffer.”

“That is a romanticized notion dear, but realistically do you know how utterly impossible this is going to be?”
“Yup.”
“Yup?? Yup? That is all you have to say?”
“Uh huh.”

 “Anastasia, you have to have an abort—“ he began. He ducked before he finished the sentence. Anastasia’s swing missed his head by a hair and left a large hole in his wall. The memories were flooding in now. “What the fuck?! You’ve been knocking me out every time I asked you to have an abortion!!” he screamed. “Yup.” she said. “What the hell Anastasia? Also why are you so fucking strong?!” His head still ached from taking the first few blows. She didn’t even punch him, just a few well placed chops and he was out. She reset his memory like a Nintendo restart button.
“I’m not having a fucking abortion you asshole!!” She was livid. 

"You should have been on the pill!" he said. 
"You should have worn a fucking condom!
"I was stoned!"
"So the fuck was I!!"

 He stood. His legs were shaky but he found his resolve after a few steps and headed to the kitchen. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I need something strong for this shit.” he said. He removed a beige canister, placed it on the counter, and popped the top. He had been saving the bottle for a special occasion but he needed to be numb and if a single malt bourbon couldn’t do it—nothing would. I can’t have a kid right now. He thought. He poured himself a few fingers and swallowed it all in one gulp. “So that is why you wouldn’t smoke with me earlier?” he yelled from the kitchen. She said nothing. “Look we need to think this through and talk.” Nothing. When he left the kitchen he found her at the front door—her jacket was on—and her bag was filled with her personal affects. “What? Where are you going?” he asked. She walked to him; stood on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Benji. I love you, but you’re too much of a dolt to realize it. It’s been real.” she said. Benji wanted to chase her. He wanted to beg her to stay, but the ego is a mysterious creature that will do anything to protect itself. He instead resolved to finish the entire bottle and pass out on the couch—this time his sleep was sincere.

The next time Benji saw her was 4 years later—as she lay in her coffin.

CHAPTER 6: 
Anastasia’s Radical Lesbian Adventures

Her sentiment was interrupted by his hand suddenly wrapped firmly around her throat. “Roni, you talk too much.”

VALENTINES DAY:

It was chilly. Veronica stood on Benji’s porch patient but pissed.  She grabbed her phone and dialed again. Voicemail. She was slowly losing patience.

“Benji—if you don’t answer your phone in the next-“

“Hey Biscuit.” Benji said from behind her. She turned and gave him a  stare that would kill most men. He didn't notice as he was stunned at the sight of her. She was dressed to the nines, tens, twenties, millions. She wore a black diaphanous lace evening gown with a white satin slip, the bottom of which cascaded into a sheer yoke. The front tapered off a bit and revealed a pair of legs that could have been borrowed from Tina Turner. Her toes were perfectly manicured. A deep crimson that contrasted perfectly against her pale skin. Her heels were simple but elegant—a pair of thin, black, Manolo Blahnik  single strap, open toes.   

Benji stared at her slack jawed. “Why aren’t you dressed?! You look like a male T.H.O.T.” she yelled; placing her phone in her purse. Benji’s attire was the antithesis of Veronica’s. He wore a white hoodie that appeared to be covered in food stains, a pair of fruit of the loom joggers, and his beat up Jordan’s. He stared at her blankly. “Benji!” she snapped. “Huh? Oh, sorry! I didn’t know how long it would take you to get here, so I ran to the store, but I realized I didn’t get my change I was heading back now. You want to come with me?”

Veronica stared daggers at him. “I’m just playing Biscuit! Come on! I’ll change now!” He opened the door; placing his hand on the small of her back and led her into his apartment complex—Veronica sulking the entire way. I can’t do this. I can’t be with a man this unorganized!  She thought. He is never on time, he pays his bills late and I am always waiting for him! Tonight is the night I leave his ass. A scent interrupted her train of thought—teasing her nostrils. The one redeeming quality 'the hood' held for her was the food. She loved home cooked meals and had a slight obsession with soul food in particular. She had never learned how to cook herself and her mother was about as much a chef as Chicago winter’s were warm—so she never had a proper mentor.  Her stomach growled.  He fumbled with his keys. “Let me change and I’ll be right back!” he said; slinking into the apartment. He closed the door behind him—leaving her in the hallway. Veronica was floored. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She paused for exactly one minute. “Benji you have till the count of—!“ she began. The door flung open in a flash of white lighting.

“One?” Benji said; planting a kiss on her mouth. He pulled her in so tightly her back popped a bit. He stared at her. “You know what I love the most about you? You don’t bother with makeup aside from your eyes, so I have no worries about ruining your lipstick when we kiss. Not to mention I never have to worry about telling you to remove lipstick from your teeth.” he said; chuckling a bit. “A-as if I would ever get lipstick on my teeth.” she said; a chill shooting up her spine. 

And with his lips Veronica forgot why she was ever angry. She was 
overwhelmed. The smell was stronger than ever and  clearly coming from Benji’s apartment. Benji stepped back a bit and posed. He was wearing a sleek white, Armani suit. His shirt had a 70's style big collar and wasn’t tucked in, but she gave him a pass on that. Everything else was solid. His dreads were tied back into a neat bundle, and she hadn’t noticed before but he’d finally shaved that awful, painfully thin mustache. He spread his arms. 

“Go ahead, take it all in.” he said with confidence. It was all bravado of course. She giggled and strolled into his place, embraced him and laid her head against his chest. She loved how tall he was. Even in her heels she only reached his shoulders. “You’re so stupid. How did you do that?” she asked. “Oh!  I wore my ‘T.H.O.T’ gear over the suit. I would have changed into my shoes, but I was terrified you’d kick my door in.” he said. “You were right to worry, but in this case I would have just left.”  She nuzzled against him.  Mine. He is mine. Her stomach rumbled again. “I hope you’re hungry.” he said. “Wait, I thought we were going out for dinner?” she asked, head still resting on her man’s chest.

“Yeah, but I don’t have any money for that, but it’s still Valentine’s day, and it’s not like I’m going to have you pay for everything. Not that you would have anyway.” he said. “Not a chance in hell.” Veronica said purring against him. She inhaled deeply. His scent mingled with whatever cooking was made her salivate. He released her, and led her into the kitchen. His apartment was lit entirely by the faint glow of candles. “Madam.” He said, offering her a seat at the table. She slipped into it, and he slid her forward.  “You should thank Bean for the dinner, he helped me cook the roast.” Benji said setting the table. Roast!! She thought, barely able to contain herself.  She had never had a man cook for her, not of their own volition anyway.

“How is Bean?” she asked.

“Oh, he is fine.  Just sick of being an 9 year old.”

“They are all like that.”

“He made you a card. It’s there on the table.”

Veronica smiled. She carved the envelope open with a fingernail and opened the card. She laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“He is so your son.”

“How so?”

She opened the card and read: “Dear Ms. Veronica. Happy Valentine’s day! Please make sure my dad doesn’t burn the house down. Thanks! Sincerely, Bean.”

“What a dick.” Benji  said; handing her a plate, a napkin and silverware. “Wait, where is your plate?” she asked. “Oh, I’m going to eat. Just not food. This night is all about you.” he replied. “Is that what you think?” she asked. He didn’t reply. He simply placed a crock pot in the middle of the table and went back to the stove without a word. He returned a moment later with a large loaf of freshly baked dinner bread. It was piping hot, and steam billowed from the pan. Her mouth watered. He began spreading butter over the top. It melted, and sizzled in the pan. He sliced off a chunk and placed it on her plate with a bit more butter. 

“Is that the roast in the crock pot?” she asked. He removed the top—steam rose— carrying the scent of heaven on its back. She inhaled as he sliced into it. The roast was perfect. It was juicy, and drizzled with gravy.  He cut off a small portion for her. “Um, more please. Actually forget it, I got this.” She began shoveling meat onto her plate, snagging a few carrots and potatoes here and there. She looked at her plate as if she were staring into the face of God. He placed a champagne glass next to her plate; walked back to the counter, and began fumbling with a bottle. “The girl at the liquor store recommended this. I’ve never been good at these things—“

 ****POP****

The cork dislodged and barreled towards Veronica’s face. Her hand darted out and snatched it out of the air—her eyes never leaving the plate. “Um…..Well damn.” Benji said, shocked. How the fuck did she do that? he thought. He filled her glass. She sat the cork on the table and drained the glass in one long pull, offering it to him for a refill. “It’s from Coopershawk.” he said, filling her glass again. I’m trying to use local small businesses these days. In fact the meat is from a local meat market in Maywood, where they butcher the cows—“ 

“Benji.” Veronica interrupted him, nursed her glass a bit, and sat it next to her plate.

“Yeah?”
“You realize this is not going to be pretty right?” she said.

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“I have no shame in how I eat. I eat like I do at home wherever I am and if you stare at me, I just eat that much harder.” she said. “Be my guest Biscuit.” he bowed to her.

That said, she began devouring her meal. She didn’t even bother spreading the butter on her bread; she simply smeared the bread into butter and crammed it into her mouth barely before she finished chewing her previous bite of roast. “You like?” he asked. She nodded; handing him her glass. “I take it you want a refill—“ she took the bottle from him and drank directly from it. He was taken aback a bit, but he smiled.  She was ravenous. She had been so tied up with her plans that she hadn’t found the time to eat. “Ahhh!” she said; placing the bottle to rest on the table with a loud thud and leaned back in her chair. “Well, that was fast! I’ll handle the dishes.” He said, smiling at her. “Who said I was done?” she said.

Benji’s chest swelled with pride.  He did good. “In that case I’ll be right back!” he said leaving the kitchen. Veronica wasted no time. Rather than slicing the bread she broke off a large chunk and began slathering butter across it. She took a bite. It was delicious. The bread was crisp, hot and chewy.  She heard water running in the background.  What is he doing?  she thought.  The scent of the cooling roast interrupted her train of thought. She helped herself to another serving. I’m definitely going to have to work out tomorrow morning. He was in the living room now. She liked his apartment.  It wasn’t particularly impressive but it was well decorated. There was a large divider separating the living room from the kitchen. He had a nice leather sectional that spanned most of the room. Wind chimes with strange glyphs hung from the ceiling of the divider as well as a basket with creeping vines. The only art he has was a large red, blue and green painting of Jimi Hendrix, Billy Corgan and Robert Smith on a shelf above the couch.  The adjacent wall was lined with 3 long book shelves fit to burst. “So you really do read a lot huh?” she asked; speaking as she chewed. “Yeah.” He was fumbling with something in the corner. 

“Do you not own a television Benji?”

“No. I don’t even remember the last time I watched television. Wait, that isn’t true. Bean has one in his bedroom but we don’t have cable. Just the digital converter box. It pulls in tons of free channels and he really likes the educational cartoons. Plus I can watch C-span when I feel like hating myself.” He chuckled.  Music filled the room. 

♫ Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to ♫

♫Problems  that upset you, oh. ♫

♫Don't you know  Everything's alright, yes, everything's fine. ♫

♫And we want you to sleep well tonight. ♫

♫Let the world turn without you tonight. ♫

♫If we try, we'll get by, so forget all about us tonight♫

♫Everything's alright, yes, everything's alright, yes. ♫

“Holy shit! Is that Jesus Christ Superstar? I love that album!” Veronica was animated. “Yup! It always calms me when I’m nervous.” he replied. “Wait, why you are nervous?” she asked. “Roni, I’m always nervous when I’m around girls. In fact the only reason I’ve come off ‘cool’ around you this long, is because up till this point I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with you. Then I saw you looking magnificent on my porch and thought, ‘She came all the way out to the west side of Chicago to see my ass? I might actually have a shot. Albeit a small one. I’d even go as far as to say I only have a 1% chance of cuffing you, but you—“ he paused. Veronica dropped her fork and stood. “But what?” she asked. He had piqued her curiosity.

“Y-you are worth the gamble. And when I really want something, 1% may as well be 100%” he said. Veronica blushed. “Shit the water!” he bolted toward the bathroom, dropping the album cover on the floor. She heard the water stop. She grabbed the champagne bottle and headed towards the couch; plopped down and kicked her heels off. She was satiated.  Apparently the stomach was the way to some women’s hearts, because as she drained the rest of the bottle she thought, “I think I may love this boy.” 

He entered the room. “Your bath awaits dear.” he said; brandishing a fluffy white bath robe. “Bath? I already showered.” she was perplexed. Just go to the bathroom and decide from there.  She rose and hesitantly walked towards the bathroom. The scent was titillating. The bathroom was lit by scented candles and the water gave off an equally  pleasant odor. It was also littered with rose petals. He handed her the robe. “I used tea tree oil in the water and a bit of Epsom salt to soothe your muscles. Do you know the way Epsom salt works? The salt dissolves into the water and soaks the into your system through your skin. From there it soaks into your blood stream and replenishes the body’s store of magnesium, and studies show that magnesium is a strong as a muscle relaxer plus—“ 

“Shut up Benji. You are over explaining again.” She closed the door—barely able to contain her excitement.

She inhaled deeply. She noticed a stand and tray next to the tub. There was a cornucopia of items on the tray. Several chocolate covered strawberries, a bunch of grapes, a lighter, an ash tray, and one very large neatly rolled blunt packed with so much bright green kush that it could have been mistaken for a cigar. This boy… she thought. A knock. “Yes?” she said, slightly annoyed. 

“I forgot something.” he said. She cracked the door. He handed her a glass. “It’s a strawberry margarita.” he said. She took it from him with sincere gratitude. “I used real strawberries and a very high end Tequila. I didn’t want to salt the rim, because I didn’t know if you—“

“Thank you Benjamin.” She interrupted him and closed the door. Her clothes were off in a second and she eased into the tub. The temperature was perfect. Hot—but not scalding. She leaned back and noticed a bath pillow on the back of the tub to rest her head.  She began to lie back, but not before sparking the blunt. She took a long drag, leaned back, closed her eyes and exhaled. The heat permeated her body; soothing her muscles and her spirit. She began to tingle. I should start using tea tree oil. she thought.

Her thoughts meandered as the day’s stresses melted away. She placed the blunt onto the tray and bit into a strawberry. It was sweet and juicy. She had finished most of them before she realized the blunt was burning out. She took another long haul off of it and put it out. She popped a few grapes in her mouth and started on the margarita. Damn I wish this had sugar but I’m not going to complain!  she thought. 

She laid back and enjoyed her soak. Her hands slowly explored her body, rubbing the oil into her arms and thighs. It felt wonderful. Her fingers grazed her peach. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but she was extremely turned on. She was lascivious. She stroked her clit slowly. The warmth of the water made her feel as if she was being held by a lover. That was when she decided to let him have her—but only if he made the first move—which she doubted he would. He didn't seem confident enough to go for it. 

VALENTINES DAY:

Benji waited patiently on the couch. He had removed his suit and was wearing a
pair of khakis and a wife beater. He was lost in the latest F. Paul Wilson novel. I wish more women were like Gia. he thought—Gia being the love interest of the novel’s protagonist. He hadn’t heard her enter the room. He looked up and she was just there; beaming at him in her robe. He gathered his composure and stood. “Follow me.” he said taking her by the hand. 

They made it to his bedroom. It was lit by several tall white candles stuffed into wine bottles. “Lay down Biscuit. I’m going to rub your back.” He commanded. Normally she would have feigned chastity, however the few defenses she had remaining had followed her bath water into the drain. She discarded the robe and crawled into the bed and laid on her stomach. She was only wearing her panties. Benji had took shake himself out of a daze. She was marvelous. Her skin was like porcelain. Her curves were clearly defined and her skin—flawless. Veronica was a work of art and he admired her. He began by working on the back of her neck. “Tell me if I am too rough.” he said. “Don’t worry, you can’t hurt me.” She felt as if she were on a cloud. He rubbed her muscles deep and slowly. He poured a bit of oil into is palms and began working on the muscles behind her shoulder blades. She moaned a bit. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. 

“Benji…”

“Yes?”

“You talk too much.”
“Sorry.”

He used his forearms and began stroking her back for what seemed like an eternity. She was in between worlds. She was in twilight. He reached her lower back and began working on her glutes. “Did you know there is a large bundle of nerves in your butt cheeks? If you sit down a lot you will end up with sciatic pain, but most people don’t notice it because of the numbness it causes, plus—“ 

“Benji…” she said.
‘I know, I know I talk too much.” he said.

He pushed deep into her cheeks. They were plump and soft. He imagined God’s pillows probably felt like this. He moved to her thighs, then her feet and ankles. She moaned. It felt amazing. A sharp chill shot up her spine.  One of the candles had burned out. “How long have you been rubbing my back?” she inquired. “Long enough. Be right back.” He stopped and left the room. She heard water running and assumed he was washing his hands. She wanted to squeal in delight! This is bliss! This is my bliss! He returned. "Can you pass me my shirt?" she asked. “We aren’t done.” he said. His demeanor had changed. “Turn over.” he said. “Ok, pass me my shirt please.” Turn over.” He said. “She complied, hiding her breasts in a meek display. She lay back on the pillows still masking her breasts—and with that—he pounced.

He pinned her to the bed by the throat. She wasn't expecting it. Her eyes told him that much. Meanwhile his eyes prowled her body searching for a weak spot. He leaned in closely and let his lips graze her cheek. Goosebumps. His right handed grip on her windpipe firmed a bit as he began suckling on her lower lip leaving his left free to stroke her neck and ear lobe. She squirmed a bit when he grazed a part of her neck. Found it! He kissed it, nuzzled it, stroked it. She gasped.

Releasing his grip on her throat—he lay atop her. Her nipples were like pink diamonds cutting against his chest. Their legs were tangled. He took her face in his palms—his thumbs stroking her cheeks. He stared at her with doe eye curiosity and littered her face with kisses. Not forceful cliché kisses either. Each one soft. Each one firm. Each one with meaning. He didn’t leave an inch of her face uncovered. She purred.

After a time, he leaned in closely and nibbled on her ear lobe a bit. He began stroking her neck again—probing for a new spot. The first one worked, but it wasn't 'the one'. Without warning she jerked a bit—pulling him tightly against her body. BINGO! His tongue went to work attacking the new target. Veronica squirmed under his weight, digging her nails into the pillow. He bit down and she went fucking nuts!

 “I need you inside me, now!!” she screamed.

She scrambled to get his pants off with her right hand, while ripping her panties of in one fluid motion. "Damn! How strong is this broad?" he thought. It couldn’t be a cheap fabric either. Veronica Dauterive would never wear anything cheap. The mere notion was preposterous. “You ain’t ready and neither is your chiropractor.” He shushed her and began cooing in her ear. Her pussy was wet and pulsating.

He ran his tongue down her neck—stopping at her breasts. He popped a nipple in his mouth and began sucking softly while flicking his tongue simultaneously. He pinched the other with his free hand. This is too much!  she thought. He was pushing her over the edge. He alternated breasts with the same method for a bit and began trailing her abdomen with kisses and licks. He grabbed her thighs and pushed them forward. His face trailed towards her pussy. He paused and inhaled deeply. “You smell like ambrosia Roni.” he said. She was too flustered to respond. His face moved closer to her pussy, though he stopped right before he reached his destination—choosing to kiss her thigh instead. His tongue skimmed across her clit and she quaked in pleasure. His grip was like steel. He held her down and began nibbling on her inner thigh. 

“Please! I am begging you!!” she pleaded with him. Her cry was noted, but he didn’t comply. He simply trailed his tongue from one thigh to the other purposely skipping her quivering muffin. Occasionally he would tap her pussy lips with his tongue but that was the most she got. She reached down and attempted to rub her clit, but he grabbed her arm firmly and pushed it away. “You’re being a very bad girl Veronica.”

He climbed out of the bed and opened his dresser drawer. He pulled out a long black piece of fabric and returned to bed. He grabbed her hands and tied them before she even realized what was happening. She tried to move but he planned for this. The longest length of the fabric was looped through the bedpost and tied in a figure 8 knot. She wasn’t going anywhere. Truth be told, she didn’t want to. He climbed back into position. She was flustered and staring at him between her thighs. “What would you like me to do Veronica?” he asked. “Please!” she pleaded with him. “Roni, what would you like me to do?” he asked again. She needed him more than air.

“I want you to eat me.” she said.

 “What do you want me to eat?”

“Me.” she said.

“Veronica, what do you want me to eat?” he asked again.

“I want you to eat my pussy! Please!” she begged, showing no shame.

He buried his face in her box. His tongue slipped deep into her, while his upper lip landed on her clit. She squirmed and convulsed. “Ooooooooo.” She moaned. His tongue explored her slit. He lapped hungrily for a while, then moved onto to her clit. He sucked softly at first; occasionally rubbing his lips across it—then sped up a bit. He sucked harder—slipping his fingers into her pussy and stroked her g-spot simultaneously.  Jesus she is tight as hell! he thought “Yes! Just like that! Please don’t stop!” she screamed. “Baby, I love—“

Her sentiment was interrupted by his hand suddenly wrapped firmly around her throat. “Roni, you talk too much.” He returned to work—his right hand pinning her down by the neck.  He was now short a hand, but with his left he toyed with her nipple. All of this while licking her clit rapidly. She was almost there. Her thighs clasped around his head. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact it served as fuel. He retreated from her breast and slipped a piece sign into her. He began stroking upwards—directly behind her clit. She squirmed and writhed in pleasure.  She was at maximum capacity. She drenched his hand in nectar. He leaned in and went to work on her clit again. Taking her clit into his mouth, he sucked long and hard. A few moments later—that was all she wrote.


VALENTINES DAY:

Veronica exploded! Her pussy gushed and gripped his fingers like a vice. Her body buckled forward with so much force that she shredded her silk bonds and  broke a few of the headboard bars. Benji wasn’t ready for what happened next. After a brief pause she caught her breath. She pulled him closer and unbuttoned his pants. She jerked them off of him—almost tearing them. His cock was stiff and meaty. Shoving him down—she took his cock deep into her throat with the skill of a sword swallower. She wasn’t attempting to be cute about it either. She slurped and sucked on it like a pro until it felt like a stone wrapped in a thick layer of silk. Man his cock is so thick.  she thought. She squatted—hovering over it.

“Wait! Veronica, are you on the pill?” Benji asked.

“No.”

“Then get a condom.”

“No.”

With that, she slammed down onto his shaft; burying it deep inside her. Benji felt far too good to protest.  It was like being inside hot, soaking wet silk. She grinded on him hard; putting her full weight onto him. He reached for a breast, and squeezed, while stroking her nipple with his thumb. He was going to rub her clit with a free hand, but she beat him to the punch. “You are a freak huh.” he said between gasps. She rocked harder. “I’m gonna—“ she began; stopping short with a gasp.

Benji knew better.  He didn’t move. He let her do her. He had learned that you never changed methods when a girl was about to cum. Not if you want to sleep soundly at night. It’s one of the worst moves any man could make. In fact, most women don’t bother telling their men they are close to orgasm, for fear they might fuck it up.

TO BE CONTINUED........

Beyoncé' stuck Jay-Z in the mouth with a swift jab—knocking out his front teeth.

Beyoncé' stuck Jay-z in the mouth with a swift jab—knocking out his front teeth. 

"Is it true?" Beyoncé asked. "What? did I try to cuff Barrack?" Oprah responded. Beyoncé nodded. "Ha! As if. The truth is in the 90's he had a cougar complex. He made a pass at me and I curved his ass. Keep in mind this was way before he was a junior senator, let alone president." Oprah said. Silence lingered a moment before she spoke again. "I mean I could have him now if I wanted. I just have no interest in men these days."

"Is that right?" Michelle said; making her way up the steps of the gazebo. Beyoncé's jaw dropped. Shit just got real. "It took you long enough to get here." Oprah said. "Sorry I was busy breaking Stedman off." Michelle said; walking past Oprah without stopping. Savage. "Please, you aint enough woman for my man." Oprah rolled her eyes. Michelle didn't acknowledge the jab. She gave Beyoncé a firm squeeze. "Hey little Queen! I missed you! How's my God daughter?" she asked. "Oh Blu is fine. She is already  doing algebra." Beyoncé said. "Good. Does Sean know?" Michelle asked. "Uh, no! She almost slipped and spilled the beans once. He would have far too many questions if he found out our 4 year old was smarter than him." Beyoncé laughed.

"Men have such poorly formed egos." Michelle said. "Bitch, so you just gonna sit there and act like I'm not here?" Oprah snapped. "You asked me here. I don't have to like it." Michelle said. "Regardless you need to fucking respect me. This is my home." Oprah's stare bore into Michelle's soul. Beyoncé just watched stunned. "I'm sorry ok? We good?" Michelle asked. "Yeah we  good." Oprah said. Sean entered the room with a plate of margaritas and finger foods. "Thank you Sean!" Oprah said. He placed the tray on the table and handed each of them drinks. "Ladies, please enjoy." he said; planting a kiss on Beyoncé's cheek. "I'm going to watch the game with Stedman. I love you." Beyoncé lit up like the 4th of July. "I love you too." she said patting him on the ass as he left.

"Ladies, I asked you here because we have a problem—God damn Sean makes a mean Margarita—anyway, I spoke with the concierge." Oprah said nursing her drink. Michelle and  Beyoncé looked visibly upset. "You too? Where is she??" Michelle asked. "I wish I knew! She came to me when I was sleep." Oprah said.  Beyoncé looked away. "She came to me as well but I am not allowed to speak about what she told me."  Beyoncé said. "Me too." Michelle added. "So I assume you all have your directions?" Oprah asked. They both nodded. "That she contacted us at all I assume she has found the King candidate, which means the prophecy came sooner than we thought." Michelle said. "It also means those idiots found Ogun's Tomb." Oprah said. "Fuck! I'm never going to get a damn break!"  Beyoncé said. "I really love this body! I love my life!"

"Calm down Sasha. We don't know if you have to go back yet. Besides, you've had her body long enough. You know the rules." Michelle said. "Bullshit! Oba has had her body forever!!!"  Beyoncé yelled. Oprah cleared the distance between them in an instant and slapped Beyonce like she was attempting to get her stuck chips to fall out of a vending machine. "Tond uyo vree pkesa ym etru mean!!" Oprah screamed into Beyoncé's face—speaking in Oneiros—the language of dreams.  Beyoncé knew she had crossed a line. The slap would have broken the neck of a normal human but it it left no mark. Which means Oprah pulled her punch. It still stung like hell..

"I'd like to see you try that shit with me." Michelle scoffed. "Are you crazy?"
"Bitch I might be! Keep talking." Oprah said. "Ok, lets drop this for now." Beyoncé said. I need to know who that bitch is." Beyoncé said pointing at Veronica. "Holy shit! You can see me?!" Veronica said. She had crept up the stairs while they were bickering."A better question is how you got into this place." Michelle said; taking off her heels and and earrings. "No, I got this Aya Obama." Beyoncé said. Michelle beamed at her. "So you speak Yoruba now?" Michelle asked. "A little. I know that Aya means mother and Baba means father. ya know, simple stuff." Beyoncé said.

"Jay!" Beyoncé yelled. A moment later Sean entered the room. "Bae? What's up?" he asked. "Can you please escort this bitch out of here?" Sean took one look at Veronica and went stupid. Veronica had on a leopard print jump-suit that looked painted on and hugged her curves like a long lost lover. "Jay!!" Beyoncé snapped her fingers. "You like white bitches now? Get Becky out of here!" Queenie snapped.

 "Huh? Oh! Maam let's go." Sean said taking Veronica by the arm. In a fluid and swift motion, Veronica reached into her purse and retrieved a silk handkerchief and rubbed it under Sean's nose. He froze. "Now 'Jay', I need you to let me go, and go take a nap." Veronica said. "Ok..." Sean said and walked back into the mansion. "Jay!! Jay! SEAN!!!!!" Beyoncé screamed. Her face was red and flushed. "Bitch! What did you do to my husband!" Beyoncé was fuming. "Oh nothing. Maybe he just likes white bitches." Veronica said. Oprah couldn't resist from laughing and Michelle was fighting back a smirk.

Beyoncé was on her feet a moment later. "Ok wait! I just need some information and I'm gone." Veronica said. Beyoncé went deaf—blinded by a complete and perfect rage.  She swung but Veronica dodged and jumped back several paces. "Look! I don't want to do with this. I just need to ask you something!" Veronica pleaded with them. "If you can beat Sasha I'll answer 1 question." Oprah said. Veronica kicked off her heels and took a defensive stance. "Also if you use Prana or Ashe you automatically forfeit." Michelle added. "Wait how do you know I can use—" Veronica began,  Beyoncé had cleared the 20 feet that separated them in a millisecond. Beyoncé was a tiny dame, but each of her blows struck like thunder. Veronica could barely keep up with her speed. Barely blocking her blows, she jumped back another 20 feet. If this bitch hits me it's over. "Keep running Becky!!" Beyoncé yelled.

Becky? Becky?! That's it. "JAY!" Veronica yelled. Sean burst through the door like a fucking hurricane. His eyes were completely glossed over and his pupils were glowing.  He looked like a zombie. "Jay. Break this bitch in two." Veronica said. Sean didn't hesitate. He lumbered towards Beyoncé. "Also tell her everything you've hidden from her while you do it." Veronica said twisting the knife. Beyoncé lost all constitution. "W-what? Sean! Jay!! What are you doing?" she pleaded with him. Jay said nothing. He grabbed Beyoncé by the neck and lifted her off the ground. Her legs thrashed around violently. "I removed his strength limiters. He is easily 4 times stronger than an average human. Remember, you asked for this this shit. Remember you got in your feelings not me." Veronica said; collecting her shoes and heading back to the gazebo. That was when Jay began to speak.

"I fucked Rachel Roy." he said. Beyoncé's lip quivered.

"I fucked her while she was still married to Dame." he said.

"I fucked Mya." he said. I even licked her ass and kissed you the next morning.he said. She shook her head. No! No!

"I fucked Claudia Scheelen while you were at your baby shower."  he said. Beyoncé wept.

"I am planning on seeing Casey Cohen tonight."  he said.

"I didn't fuck Liv, but I lead you to believe I did so you wouldn't be suspicious of everyone else I was fucking."  he said. Beyoncé sobbed.

"I fucked Rita Ora and Tori Kelly while we did cocaine and watched the Kim Kardashian sex tape" he said. A silent cry escaped her. Veronica almost pitied her. Almost.

"I plan on leaving you for Rihanna once my attorney's verifies that my prenup is still valid." he said.
With that statement, Beyoncé went cold. Her eyes began to glow. "SASHA NOOOOOOOO!!!" Oprah yelled. Too late. Beyoncé touched Jay's chest. His back exploded sending shards of his spine and sinewy pieces of his heart and lungs in the grass.  His grip went flacid and Beyoncé fell to the ground. Sean collapsed—immobile. Beyoncé lay in the grass sobbing. Oprah and Michelle both looked at Veronica. "Bitch who are you?" they asked in unison. "I assume the new queen candidate—seeing as your current one can't control her feelings." Veronica said glancing at Beyoncé who lay on her side openly weeping. "STEDMAN!" Oprah yelled. Stedman was such a standard old Negro. He wore a pair of blue shorts with black dress socks and suspenders slung over his wife beater. He had a mouth full of food and a piece of cornbread in his hand. "Damn baby what? he asked. "Awww shit."

He glanced at Jay's body. "What you want me to do?" he asked. "Go to my dressing room. Third draw on the left. Bring me the canister." Oprah said. "I'll begin he incantation." Michelle said. walking toward Jay's body. Veronica paid them no mind. She was impatient and lost in her phone. A few moments later Stedman returned with the bottle. It' was beautiful and made from pure copper. It was engraved with several runes that began at the base and tapered off towards the top. Michelle was over Jay's body. She appeared to be singing. Veronica recognized the language so she slyly remembered the incantation. I might need it someday. 

Bitch please. You aren't leaving here alive! A voice boomed in her head.

"Oh my god! How are you doing this! Veronica was sincerely shocked.

"You know damn well how I am doing this. It's you're ability. Oprah said; projecting her thoughts into Veronica's mind.

"What I mean is how are you using my ability?"

"Fuck you that's how." Oprah responded.

"Look, I didn't want a fight. Also, you said I couldn't use Prana or Ashe how was I supposed to fight?!

"Not fair is it? That is what it is like to be a black person in this world. The odds are stacked against you, but if you want to live you have to work with the little bit you have! Of course you cheated which is what white people do—so I'm not surprised. Oprah said.

Jay's coughing interrupted their exchange. Stedman poured the contents of the canister over his wounds and they began swiftly healing. "W-what happened to me?" he stuttered. Beyoncé hugged him tightly. She openly sobbed. He squeezed her back. "Baby what's wrong?" he asked. 'I-I know. I know about it all. The cheating. The 3-way with with those lousy thots. The cocaine. Rachel, all of them." she said flatly. "W-what? N-Naw baby! Stop believe lies. I dont..I aint even trying to argue with you!" he yelled. Beyoncé' stuck him in the mouth with a swift jab—knocking out his front teeth.

"B-bish ish yuur crathzy!!" he yelled; spray blood on her clothes. "Uh, if he ruined that Versace top she is wearing—I'm going to kill him my damn self." Veronica said. Beyoncé stuck him again and he went straight to sleep. "Don't you kill him after we wasted lethe water on him!" Oprah yelled. Beyoncé didn't reply she simply stared at Jay; daring him to wake up again.

"Back to you. I see you have a strong will. Normally I would know everything about you by now. Who are you. Have you forgotten the face of your mother?" Oprah asked. "What? Look. You said if I won you would answer my question." Michelle climbed up the steps of the Gazebo and joined the pair. "Little Queen, you are wasting good liquor. I'm about to drink yours." Michelle said. Beyoncé remained silent. "That is cruel. You know she can't be a Queen candidate now. Matricide is a no no." Veronica said. She was being smug.

"Alright bitch. you need to start talking or you going to get hurt." Oprah said.  Veronica laughed. "Yeah right! Bitch I'm free, white and 21—not to mention I'm rich! You can't even hurt my feelings." she said.Veronica not only crossed the line. She drew several more and skipped right across those.
Mrs. Obama sighed and began nursing her Margarita. Oprah stood and cracked her knuckles. "Let's see about that you shitty bitch."

My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist.

My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist. 


There, I’ve said it. I’m sure you are going to expect me to redeem myself with some long forgotten tale about a boy who was abused and tossed from foster home to street—leading him to become a monster.  Don’t bother. I don’t feel a bit of remorse for what I do. I’ll tell you what brought me to this point another time, but make no mistake— My name is Twan. I am a rapist. I am a monster and I feel no sorrow or empathy for my victims.

I’m typing this from my hotel room. Last night I attended a so called ‘neo masculinity’ rally. The meeting gained significant attention via social media. The idiot that organized this rally was rumored to be pushing for legislation that made rape legal so long as it occurred on private property, but this was apparently a joke. I assume it was a ‘joke’ in the same sense that N.A.M.B.L.A just really really likes the company of little boys. Either way it peeked my interest so here I am.

I met Trent at the rally last night. I felt his eyes on me, but I never approached him.  Every move I made found him in my general vicinity. I can spot a victim hunter a mile away. When this hastily organized debacle concluded—rather taking a cab to my room—I made it a point to make the 10 block trek back. When I saw him smoking a stogie in front of my hotel entrance. I highly doubted this was coincidence. He wore a pink shirt that was clearly made for a toddler, a pair of tan cargo shorts, sandals, and a backwards turned fitted hat that choked his skull. He also had an awful case of date rape face.

“Sup?” he said. I smiled and headed for the door.
5….4….3….2…1
“Hey wait!” he said.
“Yes?”
“Sup?”
“Can I help you?”
“I dunno can you?” he grinned.

Gross.  He is so gross. “My name is—“  His phone interrupted me.  He punched the end call button.
“I’m Trent. How about I buy you a drink?” he asked. “I’m not sure, I’m pretty exhausted. “
“I saw you at the rally—kind of weird seeing you there. Come on! I don’t know anyone here.” He pled his case. “Sure why not?” I said. He dropped his cigar without bothering to stomp it out. Lazy, smoker, date rape face and a douchebag name. He is a perfect candidate.

My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist.

The hotel bar was nice. I stay in IHG hotels exclusively. Staybridge in particular because they have full kitchens and separate bedrooms.  Though the real bonus was that the bar had Allagash on tap. The hotel was laid out well and had a sincere homey feel. We sat in front of the fire place on a large overstuffed couch. We talked about life, the universe and everything. He told me about the issues he had with his last few girlfriends. There was nothing particularly interesting about his anecdotes. Just the standard garden variety blame shifting, and complete lack of accountability.

I barely spoke aside from the occasional feigned look of suprise or an approving nod. I interrupted him once to talk about my fiancé. “Her name is Kimberly. She—“ I paused and reflected on my words. “She saved me.” I said. “That is nice. So you like girls?” he asked. “ I like GIRL—singular.” He  wasn’t even listening. He shuffled around a bit, and his eyes constantly darted from me to my glass. So it begins.

“I think I will have one more drink then I have to turn in.” I said. “Yeah, but like, these drinks are expensive, how about we go to my room. I have tequila out the ass.” he said.  Tequila out the ass? Could he be many more of a douche? Summer's Eve could learn from him. “Its fine, I’d rather drink down here. No offense but I don’t really know you.”  I said.  “Ok, ok! Let me get you a drink!” he said with far too much fervor.  I conceded and let him know that I needed to use the restroom.
A few moments later I was tying off my left arm and injecting myself with a small dose of Romazicon. I knew what was coming with that last drink and I wanted to be prepared.

 I put my ear buds in, sat on the toilet and prepared myself. I’ve had Lil’ Wayne’s  ‘Free Weezy Album’ and Kendrick Lamar’s ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ on repeat for weeks now and I was completely stuck on them. I did a few breathing exercises, though I could barely control my excitement.  Moments later, I found him at the bar looking impatient. “Hey! You took forever!” he said, shoving the drink in my hand.  I winked at him and drained my glass. He seemed delighted by this. “The bar is closing. We should head to my room! I have my computer hooked up to the television so we can do Netflix. Also I want to watch most of the sports highlights I missed because of the rally.” The douchebag prattled on. The drowsiness began creeping its way into my consciousness. Yup. He drugged me. Shit the dose of Romazicon  wasn't strong enough.

“Y-yesh. That soundz amazhing.” I said; slurring my words.  I could see the delight in his eyes. We walked toward his room, his hand occasionally tapping the small of my back. “Wait, what sports highlights? College ball? I-I thought the s-shuperbowl was tomorrow?” I asked. “Huh? Oh yeah college games. I know you are probably an Alabama fan, but Utah is 10-3 right now.”  he said. I didn’t say a word. I hate sports, unless you consider raping rapists a sport—which of course I do.  We arrived at his room. Room 420. Could he possibly be any more of a douche?  When he opened the door I almost puked. The room was a mess. There were pizza boxes everywhere. Crusts were scattered throughout the room, along with a veritable ton of Pabst Blue ribbon cans. He tossed his key card on the counter. I stepped over some errant trash and snagged the card when he wasn’t watching. “Hey, what is your name by the way? I never caught it.” he asked. “W-what?  My name ish-” I began. A heartbeat later, all was black.


My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist.

The room spun into view. The Romazicon hadn't been strong enough to keep me conscious, Christ, how much did he dose me with? My awareness returned—albeit slowly.  I recall waking up at some point but the details were sketchy. I have no idea how I made it back to my room. I sat up, attempting to recall the night. The fresh pain exploding in my groin and throat filled in the blanks for me. I don’t recall how I got back to my room, not to mention I was completely naked. My body was bruised, but my dignity was still intact. After the hellish life the universe tossed me I was unbreakable—which makes me an ideal hunter.

I grabbed my phone and immediately called my lover—the dearest tenant of my heart—Kimberly., my savior. “I’m already headed your way she said and ended the call. She hates what I do, but if I don’t who will? I see her point though. I try not to think about it. I sometimes wonder if I should just leave. She’d probably be happier. I pushed those thoughts away and began preparations for my holy work. I shit, showered, and shaved. “Fuck! It’s 11:30!” I said aloud. The hotel offers a free breakfast buffet if you make it in time.

It’s silly I know. I was clearly raped last night, and here I am lamenting over missing a free meal. Please try to understand this is who I am.  This isn’t my first rodeo.  I was hungry, so I called room service. A half hour later I filled my tummy with a garden salad, guacamole and chips, and a large glass of orange juice. I haven’t eaten meat since I met Kim. She forbade me, and I complied.  End of story—no argument. She owns my heart. She is the only person I can talk to about my work. She accepts me with no judgment. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her aside from change. Ironically enough, she wouldn’t ask me to.

When I finished my meal I opened my suitcase and took a few condoms out, as well as some lube, handcuffs , and my trusty taser. I changed into a tracksuit and a pair of Jordans. I then placed my items into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out the door. A heart beat later I was standing in front of room 420—my hand covering the peephole. I knocked. No answer.  I knocked several more times with the same result.  I should really wait on Kimberly, but I was far too anxious to begin. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key card id stolen before abruptly passing out. The room was still in disarray, and Trent was nowhere to be found.


I rifled through his personal effects, searching for anything of value.  I found his wallet. Jackpot. I walked to a desk and used the hotel’s stationary to copy down all of his personal information.  I also helped myself the petty cash he kept in his wallet. Easiest 500 bucks ever. I opened a dresser and found the most beautiful Audemars Piguet wrist watch I’d ever seen. “I’ll definitely be taking this.” I placed the watch in my bag, but when I closed the dresser drawer I heard the tell-tale rattle of a pill bottle.  I pushed aside his disgusting, stained underwear collection. Gross .Another grown ass man who doesn’t know how to wipe his ass.

 I found the bottle. Bingo. Come to think of it something has always perplexed me about drug regulation. If the FDA knows that Rohypnol is used for date rape, then why do they continue to make it? They stopped making Quaaludes because of abuse—they passed legislation to make it extremely hard to get narcotic pain relievers, so why not eliminate Roofies? There are so many alternative sleep aids available. Hell, I’m practically immune to most drugs, yet one Benadryl knocks me out cold. Oh, and don’t get me started on Ambien.  I found a small bag of white powder in the bag as well. I tasted a bit. Cocaine. Nice. I did a small bump of coke and the pain Trent left me in last night left me in a hurry.  I left the room in search of my dear Trent. My candidate.

 My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist.

I found Trent at the bar. Big surprise. It was 1:30 PM and he was already drunk. Several patrons were watching the pre-game programming. I took a seat next to him. “Sup bro?” I asked. He nodded but was otherwise stoic. “Penny for your thoughts?” I asked. Still nothing. I ordered a drink. I wanted another glass of Allagash, but I wanted to celebrate so I ordered a couple of fingers of scotch. They had a very limited selection of whiskey, but they did have the Balvenie 12 year single malt.. Shit! I wish I knew they had this last night. I drank. I savored it for a moment and let it slide down. The fire in my belly, combined with the excitement of Trent’s impending judgment gave me goosebumps.

As I rifled through his clothes earlier I distinctly recalled a Broncos jersey which gave me an idea.  “I’m rooting for The Panthers. What about you?” I asked. That got his attention. “The fuck bro? have you been following ESPN?” he said. “The ESP in ESPN doesn’t mean they can predict the future! Cam Newton is a wild card bro.” I said, though I had no idea what I was talking about.
I hate sports. I merely repeated what I’d heard weeks before regarding Mr. Newton. “That is true, but Denver’s defense is a brick wall bro.” he said. “So what? Carolina’s defense is strong, but their offense is going to overwhelm them, not to mention their lineup is filled with goons.” I said, again having no idea what I was talking about.

 “Bro what the fuck are you talking about? As far as everyone else in the world is concerned, the Panthers made it to the Superbowl on accident!” he said.“Calm down chief. I’m just saying—you are going to be extremely butt-hurt when the Broncos lose. I’d put money on it.”  I said, hoping he’d take the bait. “Oh yeah? Put your money where your mouth is!” he demanded.  I reached into my bag and removed exactly $300 of his money and laid it on the bar.  “There. Here is my money. Where is yours?” I asked. “It’s in my room.” he said. I was  excited! I’d wondered how I was going to get him back to his room.  I gathered my composure and spoke.

“Then how are you paying for your drinks then?” I asked.
“I have them charge it to my room.”
“Ok so how about this Tre—” I said, catching myself at the tail end of the first syllable of his name.
“—Trendy bro.”  I finished.  Shit. Was that the best I could do on the spot? I hope he bought it. “Huh? Trendy bro?” he asked. “Well hell, I don’t your name and you are wearing Banana Republic and Dulce and Gabbana so what the fuck am I supposed to call you?” I said. “Trent. I’m Trent.”  he said, offering me a hand. I squeezed hard. “I’m Twan. My name is Twan.”  I said. He bought it! I could barely contain myself. My cock throbbed. Don’t worry boy. I will feed you soon.

“So here is the deal, we let the bartender hold the money, and she can pay the winner.” I said. “Deal! I’ll go get my cash when we finish this round.” he said. “Hell, how about I buy us another round, then we go get your cash?’ I asked. “Deal broseph!” I ordered a couple of drinks. He was drunk already—no—he was scummy. So much in fact he didn’t notice what I dropped in his drink. We chatted for a while. I will say this, if I didn’t already know that Trent was a monster, he could easily be mistaken as a ‘nice’ guy. He was a garden variety trust fund baby who attended an Ivy League university as a legacy and rather than getting a job like the rest of us, he simply lived off mommy and daddy’s money.  I always found it funny that Clarence Thomas rambles about affirmative action being a problem with major colleges, yet conveniently ignores that the real affirmative action is that the children of alumni are instantly accepted 100% of the time, regardless of their ethnicity.

“Wait, didn’t I see you at the rally last night?” I asked, draining the remainder of my glass. “Oh! You were there?” he asked. “Yup.” I said bumping his fist. “Yeah man! Seems like there is a war on masculinity! They want us to be pussies! I mean look at animals! Animals take what they want!”  he said. Yes we do. “I feel like it is survival of the fittest. If you don’t want something done to you, then it is up to you to stop it.” I said, pandering to his poorly formed ego.  “Exactly!!” he said, slamming his glass on the table.  I thought it would take more than arbitrary pandering to make him talk, but it took surprisingly little to get him to open up. He regaled me with tails of his exploits. He had raped a whopping total of 23 women.

“I mean they clearly wanted it, otherwise why didn’t they stop me? Right?” he asked. “Oh they want it bro.” I laid it on thick. “I mean think about it, if you can legally shoot and kill someone for being on your property without permission, why shouldn’t you be able to rape them?” he asked, seeking approval.  I nodded, my heart banging against my chest. “It’s these beta males! They pander to women’s desires because they can’t get them otherwise. Meanwhile, when Alphas like us follow our instinct and take what we want, we are somehow criminals.” he said. I couldn’t tolerate anymore. I am a monster. I don’t rationalize it. It annoys me to no end when a monster wears the veneer of human. I accept what I am, meanwhile this cretin is following the Republican playbook and blaming the victim. “When was your first bro?” I asked.

“Technically when I was in college, my friend Chad and I tag teamed this gorgeous cheerleader—bro it was some real life porno shit. My dorm mate Jamal was there recording it for us. This bitch took both of our dicks in her pussy at the same time. It wasn’t a rape per say, but she screamed so much! We asked her if she wanted to stop, but she was silent so we kept going.  About a week later we were all in handcuffs. I bet it’s because she found out I was fucking her best friend.  Which was crazy! Like I would have seriously dated such a hoe!”  he chuckled. I nodded. “The fucked up part is that Jamal is still in jail, and he was the only one who didn’t fuck her bro! It was because he was black.” he said. How quaint—a socially conscious rapist. 

I eyed his body. I needed to make sure I could take him. He obviously worked out, but most of his strength appeared to be upper body. I glanced at his legs. They were boney and pale. That was all I needed to know. My hackles rose. Kimberly must be here. That was my signal. I was now safe to proceed. Safe to proceed with my holy work. I glanced at the clock. “Hey man, the game starts in 10 minutes. Let’s go get your cash, plus I want to show you a few things in private. Too many eyes here.” I said. “Oh you got pics? Video? You gonna share bro?” he said, barely able to contain himself. I could definitely relate. “Yup!” I said. With that we headed to room  420. Finally

My name is Antwan and I’m a rapist.

He fumbled about looking for his key card while.  “Whoa buddy you alright?” I asked. “Y-yeah. I can’t find my keysh.” he said, wobbling. I was liberal with the dose of Rohypnol I spiked his drink with. Though I was shocked that he could still speak, let alone walk. I offered him the very key card I’d swiped from him earlier. “Bro, is this it? It just fell out of your pocket.” I lied.  “T-thanks broshif.”
By some miracle he managed to get us through the door. I could literally see the alcohol evaporating off of his body. He stumbled towards the dresser. I stepped in, grabbed the ‘do not disturb’ sign, hung it on the door handle and closed the door behind me.  “What the fuck bro!!! My sshhit!! Ish missing!” he raged. “Game time bitch.” I said. Which was ironic as it was now 5:00 PM, Superbowl start time.

“W-what? Fuck the game bruh!! My money, sshit!!” he cried. I reached into my bag and slipped the watch on. “Are you talking about this?” I asked, flashing my wrist. “Y-you! You took mah ssshit!!” he immediately charged at me. I was prepared. I hit him with the taser and that was that. I could have taken him, but I didn’t want to take any chances.  I kicked him in the ribs as hard as I could. He was out cold.

I drug his limp body to the bed and poured him onto the mattress. I undressed him and flipped him onto his back. I then handcuffed him to the bed and waited. My cock pulsated. He was so impatient. This was the demon I swore fealty to. It demanded I pin him to the fucking bed and shred him like wet paper. I pulled up a chair, popped in my ear buds and waited. I sent Kimberly all of his information. His bank account would be drained by the end of the day.  He came to roughly an hour later and immediately screamed for help.

*****CRACK*****

I slapped the bitch quiet. The motion caused my ear buds to jerk out of my ear with a nasty pop. I hate that sound! Angry I slapped him again. He instantly bruised.  “If I have to gag you, I will.” I said. He tugged hard on the handcuffs to no avail, and when he saw the stun gun all hope faded from his eyes. He fell apart—sobbing. “Why are you doing this bro?? Please don’t do this!!” he pleaded. I laughed from a good and healthy place. “BRO! If you don’t want me to do this, stop me! Otherwise you clearly want it!” I said. Tears flooded his face. I laughed at him, tossing the lube and condoms next to him. The sight of which made him thrash about violently. I hit him with the taser and he fell silent.

“Bro, please don’t do that again. I won’t move. I promise.” he said. “I'd prefer you to move. It’s no fun if you don’t fight back.” I said. “Why?! Why are you doing this?” he pleaded with me. “Survival of the fittest pumpkin!” I said. “But were men!! Were on top of the food chain.” he attempted using his twisted logic, to no avail of course. “So women are lesser creatures then?” I asked. “YES!! You get it now!! Women are for taking!” he said.

Oh, I can’t wait to bust this fuck boi’s pussy open! I grabbed the lube and placed it back in my bag. “I guess we won’t be needing this anymore.” I said.  Trent looked as if he had died inside.  “W-what are you going to do?” he sniffled. “Trent, can we stop pretending? I am going to do the same thing you did to me last night. Not to mention the 23 girls you raped” I said. He was perplexed. “Bro! We just met!! This is all a mistake bro!! I aint no faggot!!!” he yelled. “Oh no baby boy you are a faggot. You might not be gay, but you are definitely a faggot.” I scoffed at him.

Trent looked at me like I drowned his puppy. “Bro, I don’t know you!! I swear you have me mistaken!” he said. “I do not. Trent, I will make you a deal. Try your hardest to get out of those cuffs. If you can, I will use the lube.”  I lied. “No! It’s not fair!! I don’t know you!!” he cried. “Alright enough of this shit.” I said; kicking my shoes off and dropping trou. The abrupt sight of my cock caused Trent to thrash wildly. He tried with everything he had to rip the headboard loose. He failed. He began sobbing again.

“Thanks! I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t get loose. And I lied about the lube. You lost your lubrication privileges the minute you regarded women as lesser creatures.” I said.
“Why are you doing this bro!! Please don’t. I have a family!! I’m rich!! I can give you—“
“—money?” I finished his sentence. “Trent. My fiancé Kimberly will have your accounts on empty before the end of the day.”

 I phased a bit.

“K-kimberly….” he was searching his memory.

I phased a bit more.

“You know what kills me about you fucking troglodytes? You have mothers! You have Aunts! You have sisters!” I said.

 I phased a bit more.

 His eyes widened a bit, but he seemed unsure of something. “I-it’s different if it’s not your family!!” he said. “See Trent, it’s dumb shit like that!” I said phasing a bit more. Trent was too sedated and frightened to even notice my shifting until my tits began to fill my top. My newly formed breasts filled in my tracksuit—though I over did it a bit. Had I worn a dress shirt, I would have made it rain buttons.

“I assume you realize that lube is entirely off the table now—right?” I smirked. He was too shocked to speak. His brain was in overdrive attempting to sort out what was happening. My hair draped my shoulders.  I tied it back into a pony tail. I of course didn’t completely shift into a woman; I kept the penis, which was impressively erect. This was my favorite part. Pun intended. “Trent!” I said snapping my fingers. “Focus!” He came to. “What is going on?! What the fuck is going on bro?!!” he screamed. I tapped him with the taser as a friendly reminder, but this time he passed out. I immediately slapped him conscious again. “Trent! Wake the fuck up! We’re just getting started, with no end in sight!” I laughed. I completely disrobed, phasing away my cleavage and curves.

“Trent. This is not going to be pretty. I’m going to take a Viagra and do a bump of this amazing Cocaine you donated—and by the way it takes me an eternity to cum”. I  climbed out of the bed and grabbed my bag. I did another bump of coke and popped the pill. I also found a redbull in my bag that I immediately drank. I put my ear buds in and waited for the tingle. Trent said nothing. He had found his resolve and had defaulted to silent indignity.  That changed when I rushed the bed and mounted him. I slammed through his defenses—impaling him on my cock—without lubrication. He began to scream but I slapped him hard across the mouth. He lost all constitution. I shifted my face again. The woman he raped last night would be the face of his penance. I began pumping him violently. He cried in silence. His visible distress only made me harder. I paused. My makeshift ponytail came loose. “You didn’t bother catching my name last night—” I said; retying my hair, I pinned him down by the throat. I spat in his face before I finished speaking. “My name is Antoinette and like you—I am a rapist.”

CHAPTER 14: CHICAGO IS KILLING ME
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I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this excerpt from my novel. [The Dead Girl Diaries: Book 1 – “Awakening”] If you would like to learn more about my series please like my facebook page.