by B.J. Burgins
As what he had said looked like a darker version of the sexy Spinderella, laying in his arms, he was struck with the thought Naw, laying alot of women doesn't make you a man, but it sure is fun when you doing it.
See Thymon Rolette was stricken with that bitterness many men never get over; first heartbreak, never fully committing themselves to one woman, nor allowing themselves to fully have feelings for just one, a sort of subconscious get-back, taking it to the woman mentality, along with the thought of whoever gets hurt gets hurt, it's bound to happen.
Instantly Thymon's cellular rung, awakening Neola, as she turned in his arms. Thymon relieved one arm from under her to retrieve his phone, as he noticed a slight dribble coming from Neola's mouth, thinking even in this state her plush brown lips are still sexy.
"Hello," he said, trying to sound groggy as if sleep, as his eyes bulged, revealing not so much of the sleep his voice portrayed.
"I'm waiting on you. Guess you're with her!!" a woman's soft bitter voice spoke. Thymon stammered, as he said "Just fell asleep over Mom's. I'll be there in a few." The phone clicked in his ear, as he began to relieve his other arm from under Neola, to exit the bed and dress as fast as he could. Hearing his movements, Neola woke, peering thru sensitive eyes, brought on by-way of sleep.
"You leaving?" she asked, as Thymon looked over his shoulder, putting on his shirt with a smirk, replying "Gotta go to the store for Ma." Neola raised an eyebrow slightly as she said suspiciously, "But you'll be back right?" as Thymon slipped the shirt over his head and shoulders.
"Yes baby, you know that. We got the rest of the evening to do our thing, hell the sun's still out," Thymon replied. Neola blushed slyly at the thirty year old, she'd allowed herself to fall in love with, yet curious to know if he was seeing a younger woman, younger than her fourty-four years. Thymon casually walked over to Neola, placing a thirty second kiss upon her lips, forehead and neck as he said tenderly, "I'll be right back babe, before your nap's over."
Neola smiled "Ok," as Thymon exited the room.
As he locked Neola's house door, he ran to the Dodge Charger, wondering just what D'Yahla's call meant. He worried the whole time driving, almost running two red lights, but running one stop sign. He tried to cool himself, because he knew he'd been good, he'd been careful never leaving his phone around for D'Yahla's snooping ways. He cared for her and didn't wanna lose her he thought, as he hook-slid the burgundy and chrome Charger into D'Yahla's driveway.
He rushed to the door to open it, as he was startled when the door suddenly came open, before he'd even set a hand upon it.
There she was, heavenly looking to Thymon, long coal black hair, with a stitch of burgundy coloring in the front, complimenting her hi-yellow tone. Her eyes were fiery - maybe she'd started on their wine already Thymon thought, as he noticed the sinister smirk across her lips.
"Hey baby," Thymon said, as D'Yahla replied, "Come on in mister."
Inside the house, in the corridor, Thymon reached out for D'Yahla, as she ignored this advance, strolling to the den.
"What's wrong?" Thymon began, as D'Yahla looked over her shoulder and snapped, "Don't say a word sir. Look at the room!"
Thymon noticed a number of flowers, a table set with a dinner consisting of steak, shrimp, salad and baked potatoes, a large Valentine's card and lit candles. "All this for me, my lady?" Thymon replied, as D'Yahla turned her fiery eyed gaze upon him, turning full frontal to face him, snapping "Was for you motherfucker!"
Thymon looked confused, hurt, for he'd never heard D cuss before, while his chest tightened and his eyebrows furrowed, D continued;
"Don't look surprised. I've been following you for a month, and Mama's house is a mighty long ways these days"!
"D!" Thymon started, as D held up a hand, "Naw, naw, Naw sweety, it's ok, it's ok. See you young mofos think just because your back is strong and your dick is long, you can have the whole world, missing the facts of love, trust and loyalty. Well sir, you'll learn today"!
As Thymon started to walk towards D with open arms, a sound he was familiar with (by-way of the neighborhood he grew up in), sounded in his ears, yet was far away and surreal; then the sting, a sting stronger than the bee sting he'd had at eight years old on Madear's porch.
The floor welcomed his back, as he lay, wondering what'd happened, as the Manhattan's Gerald Alston sang in his ears, "Like no one else could do, I would never, never hurt you."
Time held him for a second as he tried to speak, witnessing the angelic face standing over him, before darkness finally caught his eyes. D stood over him, derringer in hand, black tights, heels, red sweater, the sexiest shooter he'd ever seen.