Checking the time, I look at Celeste who was also worried as to way Angel was not home. It was past midnight and he had not been answering calls or texts. His office was saying that he had left the office hours before but still he had not been home. Worry flooded through us as we sat in the dining room, the fire place bringing us warmth beyond our bodies together as we waited for him.
The sound of the door lock chiming before the door opening as slowly as it closed makes me look at Celeste with relief but at the same time confusion. What happened after he left? Rushing of the seat of the couch we head to the entrance when we see him. Dishevelled his suit is untucked, jacket in his arms, tie missing and, in his hand, a single black file. The moment he sees us it's like a hurricane of emotions tear through him but he won't let them go. Instead he walks closer to us, and says nothing
The strain and movement of my body followed the chaos of the music that I had playing in my studio. Each pose, movement, drop and glide bringing this calm in the middle of a stormy ocean. My thoughts felt like they could be heard when I was dancing and with all that thoughts that were raking through my mind because of yesterday's discovery.The idea that we were being faced with the problem that gave Angel so much fear to what our relationship was brought pain to my heart. Having to let him understand that he was not abusing us was painful but I knew it gave him the ability to let the unnecessary guilt go.When the efforts of my body and my mind bring me to heavy breaths, I end my routine and stop my music. Running the towel over my body I leave the studio and head to the kitchen, my bare feet catching the cold of the tiled f
Celeste had outdone herself. Being beside her as she shook hands and accepted compliments for the generous amount of art of display tonight, I know no other feeling that absolute praise for her. The days leading to the art event Angel and I took over the plan that could get Pierce off our back because Celeste deserves to do take in what was going to be her big break. This was not the night we saved what we created for ourselves, this was the night she would be seen for the greatness she created.Critics, buyer's media and the public from all over came to see the work of Celeste Clarke, the newest breath through artist who would make headlines for years to come. For single moments as Angel and I took in the image of her standing in herself, controlling her image, narrative and life I can say for certain she had never looked more breath-taking.
Wiping a single tear from her cheek Celeste looks at the man who stood next to her with pain and regret, but more than anything disgust "Aretha was seeing the man in that picture. She was seeing you, and days after Aretha's friend took that picture that she told her closest friend that she was pregnant with your baby. You're my father." I could hear the sorrow and pain the tore through Celeste at the announcement that the family she never knew was more than she had ever bargained for. More so that Meadows, was her biological father."You slept with a fifteen-year-old girl when you were thirty years old, and moths later I was born. Still she was sixteen, abandoned by her family and you left after finding out about the pregnancy, so she done the only thing she could and gave me up."Taking his eyes of the picture he looks at Ce
The night breeze sends chills to my skin as we step out of the car, Celeste's heels clicking as she walks to our side "What are we doing here again?" She askes Angel as we step into the driveway of the house, we had found him in nights before. Looking at it with less focus on finding changes I had not seen that night, or the day we had come to view the home. The paint was clean, flower beds new, pave way redone. It was like there was renovations done to it.Angel had taken us to dinner saying that he had a surprise for us tonight. Over the past week or so we had been living in the apartment because he wanted to be closer to us as we fixed things. We found ourselves falling into each other's arms and adoration in the process. I never knew how much we truly missed him until he sat at the island for breakfast and there was finally the smell of coffee in the air.
Smoke and desired sin. That's what the air of the four-cornered room smelt like as the red lights flooded the room with the colour of lust. The space was simply furnished by a seat parallel to the foot-high stage signed with a single pole which stood in the centre of it all.Lights lined the ceiling while a medium-high backside table gave wait to the money that would be paid after each show took place in front of it. The main event of this simple room. Me.Each new body that drops its body on the chair across me undresses my already bare body in an effort to envision my body without the little material that I have left. Lips licked in alpha fuelled lust, greedy for what I chose to exude. Each is different yet similar as their fantasies spill through their grins and burning gazes.Never do I start a new client by being in the room first. No, I let them feel the room, allowing whatever sense of power they believe manifests into the idea that they wait to be served and catered to. Belie
Walking down the busy street, I hug my body in my coat as the snow grips my boots. My focus is solely on making it to the bookstore in time for early morning customers. The bookstore, Fine Print, had been a blessing to have been able to get, but working at the store with Victoria gave me more than money. The ability to read and learn all that I was not able to when I was younger was a gift Victoria didn't know she had opened for me.I may have simply thought of them as my parents, but to the world, we lived in, they were immigrants before my parents. Our financials only allowed food, the roof over our heads, and clothes, so after preschool, it became a strain to further my schooling.I knew my Mama was broken by it, raising me no different than she was, but Papa would silence her broken aspirations with words not cruel but no less ignorant. "A woman doesn't need knowledge. She needs a husband." Once he would leave the room she would respectfully dismiss his words, then braid my hair
Signing the visitors' sheet with a smile to Jemma, I walk towards room 357. Pushing the door open, the stale image of my Mama in a ghastly white bedgown welcomes me. Her eyes are wide open as she steers into the distance. Searching for what her mind could remember at least try to remember. After Papa had died of lung cancer, we were alone with no income because Mama didn't have schooling. She came here from Mexico after her father married her off to mine. When he put his body into the ground in life, my mother worked as a cleaner for the rich she found herself employed by a wealthy woman.Some of the stories she told were of this woman who lived in a house that could be a castle and from her understanding that the Miss of the home owned it alone. I think she was amazed at it all and how real something more could be. She told me of this woman who had a wall covered in certificates and achievements that decorated the wall like a museum of achievement.She did not learn these stories f
Feeling my body being lifted, I bring myself closer to the tense body that carries me from my tear-induced slumber. The cold biting my skin makes me hold tighter around his neck. I know it's him because his warmth feels like no other. Whimpering at the time spent in the cold as my feet start to feel the cold, as I bring my face closer to his neck, feeling his rushed pulse.Eyes closed, I let him hold me as we walk into the building, only opening them when I feel the warmth in the room. The lobby is black, gold, and navy blue, with a large chandelier. That's the little I bring attention to because all my attention is on the feeling of the unnamed man who carries me gently in his arms.Under flexed muscles, I could feel slow breaths above a fast-paced heartbeat. Each breath is like he savours it or fears taking a new one because they are countable by the minute. We walk to an elevator and ride to the floor that gets opened for us by the man next to the elevator door. Unphased by the vi