Pleasure Island

It was the beginning of Monsson season in the Tampa Bay Area where I lived. Spring. Sudden showers out of nowhere and then the clouds would part, the sun would shine and it would look as if it had never rained.

I was working with a group of up incoming makeup artists at an event showing them some new techniques. How to blend, contour, and make bold eye makeup. The class was great. I made $500 dollars after paying the studio for the use of space.

I decided to stop at this Jamaican spot to get some oxtails, rice, and peas before heading home. Since my boyfriend was half Jamaican and I couldn’t cook Jamaican food, I liked to surprise him with food from his favorite spot.

I knew it would be at least two hours before he’d arrive home for the day. He worked at a cellphone shop. And normally got off around 4:00 pm. I planned to clean the house, take a nice shower, have the food set out, and later fuck his brains out on the sofa.

I walked with a little pep in my step excited about my plan to surprise him. We had been having issues but I was determined to work on our relationship. He was good-looking standing at six feet two inches tall, with cocoa brown skin, sexy hazel eyes, thick brows, these pretty peach lips, and an amazing head full of tightly curled hair.

I got to our apartment. I placed the food on the counter. I noticed there were a few glasses on the counter. My eyebrows furrowed. I didn’t clean the whole apartment every day but I always cleaned the kitchen because I hated dirty dishes.

I placed the three glasses inside the dishwasher. As I began to straighten the living room, I heard distinct sounds pouring from the hallway that led to our main bedroom. I shook my head and immediately I developed a knot in my throat. I made haste down the hall and pushed open the door.

There was my handsome boyfriend with his ass cheeks clenched as he fucked one raggedy lace front wig-wearing heifer from behind as she ate the other bitch’s pussy, “No, No, No, Ashton! Not again!”

He pulled from her pussy and looked at me, “Baby, it’s not what you think. I swear.”

“Get the fuck out of my home!” I screamed at those two whores. How the fuck do you screw a man in a house where his woman’s stuff is all over the place? I shook my head as they ran by me. But how could I be mad at them when he brought them into our home?

He stood there naked. He was wearing a condom for that I applauded him. He looked at me with those hazel eyes which usually made me weak. “Babe, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry Ashton. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t keep doing it.”

He sucked his teeth.

“How would you like if I brought a bunch of dudes in here and fucked them. Maybe I should do that.”

He laughed as if the possibility was not there. I was a good-looking woman and I often got hit on by numerous men, “I should give you a dose of your own medicine. Yeah!”

“Girl quit playing. You better not bring no dudes up in this house where I pay the bills.”

“Half. I pay half. So.”

I left him standing in the room. I went into the closet. He attempted to grab me, I jerked away. He pulled me in, “Look. I promise it won’t happen again. Let’s go sit and talk about it.”

We went to the kitchen. He saw the food. He pulled it out and started eating. It was at that moment I realized he was not going to change until I did something drastic. It had to be bold enough for him to get the picture.

“You want some of this babe?” he asked with his mouth full of food. I shook my head. Inside I was a category five hurricane. How could a man that I loved so much provoke me to want to stab his eyes with a fork? All the shit I had done and he didn’t value any of it. He would find out soon enough I was done.