Brooklyn James

Chapter One

I sat by myself in a chair in the dingy motel room. The only light that was coming in the room was from the moon shining in through the window, the red lights coming from the digital clock on the bed side and the light coming from under the bathroom door. The smell of stale sex suffocated my lungs. I should have been use to conditions that I allowed my body to lie in, but no matter how many times I met him at that motel, which happened to have been three nights a week, I could never get use to the subconscious way of him telling me that I was worthless.

     I looked over at the time; it was a quarter past one in the morning. I could have been home in my bed sleep, getting ready for my morning class but like most nights when he called I came running; putting my education on hold for a temporary feeling. I was in the middle of a paper when he called and said he needed me. There was no thought put into it when I told him that I’d be there. I had taken my last dollar and caught a cab to the other side of town and waited thirty minutes until he had gotten to the room. I would have to wait another two weeks before I was able to get more money. 

     Grandma only sent me money every other paycheck. She wanted me to get a job and pay for my own expenses while I was away at school; but I knew my capabilities. I would not have been able to concentrate on my studies, boys and work. 

     The sound of the bathroom door opening from behind me interrupted my thoughts. I could hear his footsteps coming closer to me. Before I knew it I felt the warmth of his mouth on the side of my neck.
    "How about round we go for a round two?" he murmured against my neck.
    "Shouldn't you be getting home to your wife?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. He lifted his head away from me. 

     "You don't need to worry about that." He said while walking in front of me. He pulled me up from my seat as he sat down on the bed. Nothing covered the fullness of my almond covered curves. My breast hung in front of him. He squeezed my nipples to his pleasure. Just enough pressure to make nectar drip down my thighs.

     "The only thing you need to worry about is making me feel good." I gave him a short lived smirk as I pushed him back. I straddled him and began kissing him with so much passion that you would’ve thought I was in love with him. I wobbled my ass in the palm of his hands. He groaned in pleasure. He loved when I did that. I moaned as I slide up and down his dick. After a while my legs began to hurt so I brought my legs closer to his body. He kept his hands on the nap of my ass while I rode him backwards. I got another fifteen minutes out of him before we both reached our shook in pure pleasure for the last time that night. 

     I lay back on the stiff bed as I watched him get dress. The dim light connected to the wall brightened the room just a little.  That’s when reality set in and guilt hit me. I sat up on the bed when he was done getting his stuff. Nineteen-eighties flowered comforted covered my body. He walked over to me while he dug in his pocket for something. I watched with an eyebrow raised as he pulled out three twenty’s from his wallet and dropped it on the chipped mahogany colored night stand that was beside the bed. I looked up at him disgusted.   

     “Money isn’t a part of the deal,” I said. I gave it up easy to any nigga that looked my way, but I had never required or accepted money for someone to get a dip in my love jar.  

      “I know” he answered putting his jacket on, “Just something to get you home.”

     “So you're not taking me home?"

     “I have to get home to my wife, remember?" he threw in my face. I stayed silent as he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll call you in a couple of days,” he threw over his shoulder before walking out of the room. Door slamming shut causing the security chain to fall back onto the door making a loud clinking sound.  

     I grabbed my phone off of the night stand to check the time. It was only a little after two in the morning and I knew I needed to be up in a few hours for my eight o’clock class. I couldn’t just lie around soaking in the scent of our infidelities. I looked the number to the cab company and gave them a call. I knew that it would take them a little while before they got to the motel I was at. I spent minutes walking around the room picking up and putting on my clothes. Once I was fully dressed and had my purse I turned around and did another look over to make sure I had everything because I didn’t have a key to the room and didn’t want to leave any evidence of me being there other than my nectar left on the sheets. I left out the room. I walked to the front of the motel where the light shone the brightest and leaned my body against the motel building letting the cool October breeze wrap around my body.

    I dug in my purse in search for my pack of cigarettes. I was a college student with little to no money, so the chances of me having anything that held a celebrity name were slim to none. So yes, my black purse was a product of Rainbow, but it held together and got the job done. When I finally found my cigarettes in the mounds of papers I kept in my purse, I pulled one out along with my lighter. I brought the cigarette to my mouth and held it between my lips while I lit it. I dropped the lighter back into my purse. I brought my index and middle finger around the cigarette after I inhaled in; I looked up into the night sky as stress blew from my lips. 

     I didn't know what was wrong with me. I adored sex; love it. But for some reason I was always dissatisfied after the act. Guilty is the word I should say especially after I found out I was sleeping with a married man. Every time I got up from a bed that wasn’t mine I felt like shit. The scenes you see in movies when the man is so passionately in love with the girl he shows her just how much by making earth shattering love to her, they lay in bed together when it's over just in each other’s embrace, basking in the moment and in their love, yeah, well that wasn’t my reality. 

     I pushed my tired body off of the wall as my phone rung, and as if on cue the cab pulled into the motel parking lot as I was being greeted by the recording, “Your cab has just arrived.”