Elise vs Onyx

Chapter One

Do you recall the bitter taste of the tears you cried the first time you had your heart broken? And I’m not talking about a simple crush, that you could easily move past. I’m speaking of the tears provoked from a heartbreak based on ultimate betrayal. Those are the tears that leave a taste for sheer and utter contempt in your heart, causing you to do things, unhealthy things, things that most would deem toxic, but I on the other hand call, justified.

Now that I’m in my late twenties, standing in the enormous walk-in closet of my beautiful four-bedroom home, I don’t feel any qualms about all the money I’ve earned from outmaneuvering trifling ass men, just like the one that broke my heart.

I stepped out of the silver stilettos that I had worn for the evening and placed them back in their home. The slot was right next to a pair of shiny gold stilettos that were my absolute favorite. I remembered getting those when I went to Sicily with Gianni. He was this super sexy-ass Italian man that owned several businesses, from casinos to restaurants. He had a thing for Black girls, even though his wife was just as Italian as he was.

He took me shopping in Sicily and those gold stilettos cost nearly $600.00, but that was a drop in a bucket for him. He loved to spend money on me and I didn’t mind. Things got tricky for us though…he started to read too much into our relationship.

One night after I fucked his brains out, he started talking about leaving his wife. I said to him, looking into his pretty blue eyes, “Why would you do that?”

He quickly responded, “so we can be together.” He started kissing on my neck. I quickly got out of the bed and put my clothes on. He stood up, his penis hanging between his legs, “You don’t want this?” He asked as if he was hurt.

I shook my head. I was completely numb to the idea of love and relationships. Plus, how could I take him seriously when I was one of the side chicks that he enjoyed fucking because his wife was boring in bed.

I had a complete understanding of what I was and what we were to each other. I didn’t get why he wanted to switch things up. “Gianni, stay with your wife and kids. No one will take you seriously if you leave your wife.”

He chewed on what I had said, even though it was hard to digest, he realized that what I said was true. He had this beautiful olive skin tone and muscular build. He kissed my neck and started removing my dress, “Don’t leave just yet.”

His fingers touched my clit and he moved in circles, “I get it. I just don’t want us to end.” I smiled as I watched him go down and taste me. I ran my fingers through his jet-black hair and enjoyed the way licked me while slipping his fingers in.

That night, we fucked until my pussy was damn near raw. Once Gianni got started, he was like the energizer bunny. At one point, my leg cramped, he stopped, he released it, laid on top of me while kissing me. He continued until he finally pulled out, pulling off the condom, so he could watch his semen drip onto my belly.

That night, I earned one of the cars I currently drive, a black Camaro with orange stripes. He gave it to me as a birthday present. Gianni and I haven’t seen each other in a while, but when he gets a taste for caramel and cream, he’ll send me a message on my other line. The one I use for…what I do. The line I use when I want to become her, Onyx.

I grinned devilishly as I entered the code to open my safe. Inside, stacks of cash, precious gems and stones, policies, important papers, and other trinkets that I had received for my services.

I placed a diamond necklace inside and shut the door. I headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I had had quite the night with an African American man named Darren Wilkes, the owner of several car dealerships in the area. He had received my information from another client. He claimed he was bored with his current situation and was looking for a little fun and I was there to provide…for a price of course.

I took off my sliver sequenced dress and allowed it to fall to the floor. My body was like art. I would imagine someone painting me, a handful of breasts, my nipples, nice and perky, slightly browner than my cinnamon skin tone. I had a tiny waist, nice hips, and ass, my legs long and lean. The only thing that disturbed me about my body was my condition.

I peeled off the blonde wig that I wore, revealed my black hair with a white patch that was right in the middle of my head. I ran my hand through my chin-length hair, which I wore in a bob with a middle part.

I reached for the coconut oil, opened and began the process of removing the makeup that I wore. The makeup allowed me to become her, a version of myself that I had created to escape my reality.

I grabbed a wipe and removed the makeup, little by little, Onyx disappeared and I reemerged. The creamy spots around my eyes and nose showed. There I was. The girl that grew up being bullied for her vitiligo, Elise Olivia James.