Did I cry tears of gold? Or hide behind sheets of stars? When you swam through my oceans of pain, how were you able to see me?
When Connie saw Nathan again she didn’t know how to act. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but what did it matter? They couldn’t act on her feelings.
The moment he looked at her, she felt the sensitive bud between her thighs ache. Such a visceral response! He hugged her with one arm and she wanted more. More of his embrace, laughter – everything!
During rehearsal she noticed him watching her. Her stomach fluttered. She hoped she looked nice to him. Smiling, she looked at him.
“I missed you,” he said softly.
Connie nearly fell off her seat. Really? “I missed you too.”
“I’ll talk to you about it after rehearsal,” he told her.
Those two hours dragged.
Finally, once rehearsal was done, they got to talk. To her delight and fear, he was feeling the same thing she was. The emotions she felt during the trip, he felt also.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to hold her.
He wanted to be near her.
And when he asked if he could call her, she said yes. Then she waited with tortured patience for him to do so…
After the last show, a week had gone by and Connie hadn’t seen Nathan at rehearsal. She feared he may have left the group. They had gone through two keyboard players before Nathan came on board. It wasn’t much of a stretch.
And she didn’t have his number.
Since she couldn’t see him, she fantasized about everything she would have liked to do to him. She would be lying in bed, touching herself, imagining that she was straddling him in the back seat of that van. While he blessed her neck and cleavage with those lips she wanted to taste so badly.
She climaxed many times that week while fantasizing about him.
Still, she longed to see him in rehearsal. To be near him! Fantasizing wasn’t enough.
She wanted to know how it would feel to wake up in his arms after a night of love-making. How it would feel to caress his body while he rested in her arms. To meet and fulfill his needs beyond the bedroom.
To take care of him…
The show was a success. Easy money. Now they were getting ready to return home.
It was late. Connie and Nathan were the first ones in the van, taking their seats in the back. She was glad they were alone. There had been some close interactions. She playfully sung Lisa Stansfield’s “All Around The World” to him. And he looked at her with approval.
Approval she wanted from him.
So now they were alone. Intimate as it was, simply because she wanted him to make a move, he remained a gentleman.
Kiss me. Please kiss me, Connie thought.
But he didn’t. Evidently he didn’t have Professor X’s ability to read minds. She wanted him to caress her face and pull her mouth to his. Wanted him to act on what she felt.
Which was wrong and selfish.
They were both married. She shouldn’t be having such strong feeling for someone who wasn’t her husband. No matter how tepid or unsatisfactory her marriage was, she was still someone’s wife.
Quietly, he sat beside her, letting her listen to one of his favorite songs. It gave her reason to sit even closer to him so she could share his ear buds.
Just sitting near him made her feel safe. Like this is where she should have been to begin with.
The rest of the band got back in the van and they headed home. She felt like the moment had been missed. There was no way she could kiss him now.
The driver made a sudden move and she fell against him. Jokingly he said he was scared.
“Give me your hand. I’ll protect you,” Connie told him, smiling.
And he did.
She took his large hand in hers and held it tight. Instantly she felt her heart swell. “The Point of It All” by Anthony Hamilton came on the radio. His thumb slowly caressed her hand.
Did he feel it too?
Connie wasn’t trying to be obvious, but she couldn’t help glancing at Nathan. They were in the back seat of the rented van, headed to a show they had both been contracted to play in. He tickled the ivories and she played the drums.
He was too easy on the eyes with his chocolate, bald head and goat-tee that framed very luscious, full lips. The things she wanted to do to those lips. Nibble, suck. Trace them slowly with the tip of her tongue.
Yeah. That would be nice.
She loved how playful his deep, brown eyes looked when they conversed about the animal and insect kingdom. She showed him a video of praying mantis dancing on Facebook. He laughed. Said she was crazy. And she loved every moment of it.
Every time he leaned in close to speak in her ear because the music was loud. Or the van made a sudden move and they were thrown against each other, she loved it.
Loved feeling the warmth of his body. The toned muscles of his arm and thigh.
And he smelled so good.
When they touched, she imagined him holding her in his arms. Did he even want to hold her? She couldn’t really tell. But there was something in the way he looked at her…
I’m a connoisseur of happiness.
With out the things that bring a smile to our face and warmth to our hearts, we’re simply going through the motions. Everyday people realize they are in a rut of unhappiness and don’t know how to get out of it.
That’s why I help people get back to the basics. Happiness doesn’t have to be a thing of the past! Together we develop a tangible plan to restore the joy that you once had. Sometimes it doesn’t take much to get you smiling again. Sometimes it does. Either way I am committed to help you through the process.
Click the link below to get started on your journey to happiness.
So early in my massage 💆 career I had a creepy client that became obsessive, turned stalker. His name was Clay and he always wanted to talk about his “Little Clay”. 😐 My boss at the time would always schedule him with me because I did therapeutic massage and she didn’t. (She did Tantra) It got so uncomfortable that I just quit. Left my table, supplies, everything. Just never came back.
So then my old boss gave Creepy Clay my number. I know, why would she do that right? Apparently he kept asking her about me and she got annoyed. He called all the time.
Now, most people would have just changed their number. But I like my number. I’ve had it since the first cell phone 📱 I owned. So I wasn’t about to be bullied into getting rid of it for a creepy phone stalker.
So I did what any person in my situation would do. I got my cousin LaToya Perez to answer the phone 📞 one day and tell him I died in a car accident. She deserved an Oscar for the performance. Truly. And then, after he finds out I’m dead, he ask my cousin if she needs some company!
😐 The man was all sorts of crazy. But at least he doesn’t call me anymore.
When I sat and wrote out all the things I have done and the people I’ve helped with my business I realized something. I’m pretty successful.
It was like years of self doubt, feeling like I haven’t accomplished enough, had finally come to an end. Why was I crushing my confidence by dwelling on things I haven’t done yet? I should have been celebrating the MANY things I had! I taught a multitude of students to play the piano. I’ve helped many clients find a solution to chronic pain and stress related issues. They saw my value. They appreciated everything I did.
I didn’t make it as a singer, but I did record a song with two members of Blackstreet. Which for me was a big deal.
It’s too easy to focus on the things I didn’t accomplish. Too easy to look at my age and say “I haven’t done enough.” Even though I have done a lot. I realized that I am a recording artist, published writer, business owner, missionary, minister. I wanted to be a performing artist and I did it. I wanted to publish my stories and I’m doing it. I wanted to travel and I am.
As I sat up one late night, feeling like my life hadn’t turned out the way it was supposed to, I realized that I had accomplished a lot more than I gave myself credit for. And I began thanking God for giving me the talents and opportunity to do so. When I realized I wasn’t appreciating the doors he had opened for me I repented. He has a divine plan for my life. Even if I don’t understand all of it I know it’s going to work out for my good.
So tonight I sit humbled and appreciative.
My spirit is weary,
Yet, the grace of God continues to strengthen me.
I live in a society where, if I acknowledge the racism I’ve dealt with then I’m part of the problem because I am told “If you don’t talk about racism it’ll go away.”
I hear my friends say ” Martin Luther King would be rolling over in his grave if he could see what his people are doing.”
Apparently every black person who cries out against injustices needs to stop because slavery ended over a hundred years ago.
And that we need to worry about black on black crime, because clearly no other race commits crimes against each other in a high percentage, no wait, they do.
My spirit gets weary because I know I am judged by the stereotypes of my race before the content of my character. I know that’s how it is, but I’m not supposed to talk about those things, because if I don’t they’ll stop happening.
My flesh wants to rise up when I hear people say “I don’t see color or race.” Yes you do and that’s ok. Our cultural differences is not always a bad thing.
To dismiss what it’s like living in black/brown skin when you never have is insulting.
But this is why I can continue to love beyond the mess. Ephesians 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
Under the Influence Of X-Ta-C is a collection of short stories and poems that I wrote in my early to mid-twenties. The title was inspired by my best friends. In high school we had a singing group called X-Ta-C. We were going to be the next TLC!
And En Vogue, SWV, Jade, etc.
The girls, who grew into awesome women, have been a constant in my life. Which means they have inspired some of the most ridiculous, random thoughts I’ve ever had. And I thank them for it!
One section of the book was co-witten by Ladye Dempals and it is pure silly madness that probably only makes sense to us. And that section was specifically written for my girls of X-Ta-C.
There’s a lot of emotions and themes through out the collection. Some can easily get lost. (Good thing they’re only short stories) In my early 20s I had a lot going on.
A lot. Going. On.
But if you love to laugh and sometimes cry, take a peek at this collection of short stories and poems.
You can find Under the Influence of X-Ta-C on lulu.com. Pen name Krystle Nyte.