Home // Ardeth Stories // Antoine Stories // Oded Stories // Character Stories // UC Stories


    Reyjah Loves Antoine:

    Scared Of You

    By Najya Yasirah





    Disclaimer: Antoine Laconte is not my character. Reyjah and her friends are. No infringement intended. Marriages are not always perfect, even though we always dream them to be. This is fictional, but this type of stuff can happen. I dedicate this to my Goddesses: Ladybug, Lantash, Starr Stahr, Tikva, Sahar, V.N. Levitsky, Mommints, Montana Rose, and Shorti Buu!!! I love you all, and you’re writing is excellent. Thanks for the inspiration!!!

    This story is Rated R for sexual content.



    Antoine Laconte stared at his sleeping wife. Reyjah Nycolia Bennett Laconte. Reyjah. Rey Rey. Ragey-Rey. Bellissima. No matter what name anyone called her, she was Mrs. Laconte. Point blank. End of discussion. She was the most beautiful African-American woman that he had ever laid eyes, lips or hands on. She was the first, the only, and the last. The one. She was a hairdresser, a boss, a singer, a dancer, a model, a daughter, a best friend, a lover, and a wife. His wife. And she was a damn good dresser. Undresser too. Antoine stroked her long, jet-black hair that was still damp from the shower that they had just shared. Reyjah’s hair would curl in Lisa-Nicole Carson-like ringlets when wet. He twisted a ringlet around his finger. His platinum and diamond Whitney Boin wedding band glistened in the moonlight. Reyjah’s hand laid gently on his pectoral. Her platinum, sapphire and diamond Whitney Boin wedding set glimmered against Antoine’s olive chest. Her brown skin was soft from the baby oil that he had massaged into her skin. They had made love, bathed each other, and shampooed and conditioned each other’s hair. He could feel her softly breathing against his chest. He hoped that she was dreaming about him. She sang about it enough. His new tattoo was itching like crazy. “Don’t scratch it if it itches,” the artist had said. “Or you’ll ruin it.” Antoine stared at the “Rey” written in Old English letters against his olive-skinned, right bicep. Most people thought that “Rey” was the Spanish word for “King”. They were half-right. Reyjah began to stir against him. Her body was so warm. She opened her almond-shaped blue eyes. Why the hell didn’t she take her Colorblends out at night? It was a brand new-extended wear pair, so it was all good. Miss New York slowly shook her head. She smiled at her husband. He was beautiful. Not handsome, beautiful. His dark, curly hair tousled when she ran her fingers through it. His dark, olive skin had been kissed by the sun, making him look even more burnished. An expertly trimmed mustache and goatee surrounded his soft, full lips’. His muscles. Lawdy. Arianna and Salvador were responsible for his rippling physique. “What’s happenin’ chief?” she asked in her casual humor. He loved her casual humor. He loved her. Reyjah traced a long, slender finger topped with a French-manicured nail along the contours of his bottom lip. She was in deep thought. Antoine knew what she was thinking. His hand caressed the defined muscles of her back. Her body was pure muscle mixed with feminine curves. The girl loved her Buffalo wings, but she still adhered to a strict diet. Her only weaknesses were Haagen Dazs and her husband. He was the worm in her Big Apple. And what a worm it was ( HEE HEE). Her biggest muscle thus far, was her heart. She was compassionate, strong-willed and forgiving. Boy, was she forgiving. And her loyalty was incomparable. She stuck by him like a “thorn in his side”. That’s what her tattoo said. It was a tattoo of a blue rose with a thorn. “Thorn in His Side,” was written through the stem in script. Its home was her left bicep like a bracelet. She had told the truth. “It hurt like hell. I’d rather have shaved with a rusty razor.” The things people did for love. Love hurts. Antoine stared at her with chestnut, inquisitive eyes. Her finger slid from his bottom lip and down his throat. She needed to trim her nails. Reyjah had accidentally scratched Antoine during their back-breaking, wall-busting, earth-shattering, tsunami- like, lovemaking. His own damn fault. For being so damn good. What was she thinking now? She was an enigma. You couldn’t figure her out just by looking at her. Close to an angel, far from a bitch. That was she. The right amount of sweet, the right amount of sour. Either way, she was his favorite flavor (HEE HEE). Part of Reyjah wanted to cry. For happiness and sadness. Loving Antoine was a task. Forgiving Antoine was her duty. Keeping Antoine was a choice. “Scared of you..” as Nelly Furtado would say. She loved that CD. It brought them together, it tore them apart. Tore them apart? Oh, let me fill you in….

    Reyjah and Antoine had been married for six months. They were so in love. They had to be. For Reyjah to look past Antoine’s career as a manwhore, and be a best friend to him regardless to what everyone else thought, was a bold move. Her defense was that she wasn’t perfect either. “I call myself a Christian, but I curse. I lost my virginity before I was married. Care to throw stones at me?” she would say. “I never walked on water, and I wasn’t nailed to cross. And Lord knows I didn’t save mankind from sin. I’m human. And you all love me just the same.” Her friends at Sha-Hair-Azad would remain speechless. She was steadfast in her friendship with Antoine. Even when he talked about making love to other women, even when she saw him with other women. Ignoring her own selfish feelings for him. Loving the closeness when they danced at Giovanni’s. Closing her eyes when he kissed her on the cheek goodbye. Savoring the scent of Eternity on his neck when he hugged her hello or goodbye. Friendship was love. So she loved him. Truly, Madly, Deeply…like Savage Garden. Her breasts were real, Dammitt. Silicone was bad for one’s health. All of a sudden, they were on his couch making love. She remembered singing Nelly Furtado to him millions of times. Did that serve as a subliminal message? She kept her head up, even though her pants were down. She just assumed that having Antoine was “mission impossible.” By looking at the rings on her fingers, one would say “never assume.”

    “Bell, what are you thinking?” he asked. He tweaked her cheek. She smiled. He pulled her closer to him. “Thank you,” he said softly.

    She was wearing a black, long lace dress with a button front and “graceful bell sleeves,” as it said in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. Her friend, Derrick, had arranged her hair in a curly upsweep. Wisps fell in front of her beautifully made-up face. Her earrings were the tiny Whitney Boin platinum, post Pave’ diamond drops. An “I love you” present from her handsome, Italian husband. Her shoes were a black pair of Manolo Blahnik satin slingbacks. Her Jimmy Choos would have clashed. She was showing a lot of leg. Good thing she had waxed. Antoine was the proudest man at Giovanni’s that night. She didn’t want to sing. She wanted a private moment alone with her beautiful husband. The got a table in the VIP section. Secluded. Reyjah wants, Reyjah gets. Reyjah deserves. She wanted her favorite waiter, Eric, to serve them. Reyjah asks, Reyjah recieves. Reyjah smiles. Extra marianara sauce and mushrooms, please. “As you wish, Bellissima.”

    “You’ve been coming home late, recently, Ant. Is everything okay?” She had bought him a gym as an “I love you,” present. Damn. She bought it; he ran it how ever the hell he wanted. He looked at her. Her boobs were straining against a black, Victoria’s Secret demi bra that was barely visible through the button-front dress. He wanted to reach out and grab them. Taste them, even. They were his. “Everything’s fine, Ragey- Rey.” Her break-dancing name. “I was so set to jump your bones these past few nights,” she said, sipping her seltzer water. He chuckled. “You and your mouth,” he said lovingly. He reached over and kissed her. Their tongues loved this game. Better stop before I get you naked, he thought. He released her. She pulled a wisp behind her ear. I’m not gonna ask him why he comes home late, she thought, taking a bite of her favorite chicken Parmesan. “How’s mom?” he asked. “She’s doing ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’,” Reyjah began. “STELLA!” Antoine laughed at her antics. So hard, that she dropped his fork. “Aaaaah damn!” said Reyjah in her ‘Martin’ voice. “Looks like you’ll be eating with your fingers.” (HEE HEE) Antoine dropped to his knees in his navy blue Dolce &Gabanna dinner suit. He went underneath the tablecloth in search of the fork. Seeing his wife’s brown, muscular legs crossed at the knee, he took a different route. Eating with my fingers, eh? He thought. Whenever Reyjah ate, she never thought about anything else. She always had a question in her mind. You eat, you taste, then it’s gone, but did you really enjoy it? Was it only a temporary pleasure? Why can’t the taste last forever? Antoine uncrossed his wife’s legs. What is he doing? She thought. Oh well, I’m hungry. Reyjah could throw down on some chicken. Antoine was easing her legs apart. Eric, tha bomb waiter, returned. He refilled her glass of seltzer water. “Where is Signor?” he asked politely. “He went to the restroom?” she said. Thank God for long tablecloths and understanding waiters. Eric winked and quickly walked away. “Babe, your food’s getting cold,” Reyjah called. Antoine was sliding her lacy thongs down her legs. When they were past her ankles, he reached up and put them on the table. “Have you been watching “Sliver?” she asked. He didn’t answer vocally. She was hungry. She began eating again. She felt something wet between her thighs. She almost choked in surprise. His tongue teased the outer petals of her passion lily. She pressed her lips together. DAMN. In the restaurant? His tongue penetrated. Good thing she was strong enough to hold the chair down. Thank God for gymnastics! He was teasing her. Lick there, blow here, suck this, lick that. Kissing the clitoris…good move. Don’t make me scream in this restaurant, Antoine. Antoine loved the taste of his wife. She had a secret blend of herbs and spices. Sugar and spice and artificial coloring. Too many commercials. Working in a gym will do that to you. Her hips gyrated against his face. She tried to control it. DAMN DAMN DAMN!!!!! He felt her shudder. I hope I don’t break a nail from gripping this chair so hard. He inserted a finger and played around some more. What the hell is he doing? Her head went back and her breath got ragged. She thought her boobs would burst out from the beating of her heart. When he was finished, he rose up from under the chair with the fork in hand. She gave him a scolding look as he licked her sweetness from his finger. “I’m full,” he said with a satisfied grin. She threw her panties at him. He wiped his mouth and put them in his jacket pocket.

    She was shocked. “You are such a ‘wabbit’” she said, smiling. “But I love you.” He drove her Navigator that night. “OLBLUEI’S” was its name on the license plate. “I’ve had a lot of paperwork to do lately,” he said. “That’s why I’ve been coming home lately.” She nodded. “Cool, handle your business.” “How about you handle ‘my business’ when we get home?” Reyjah threw up her hands, “FREAK!” she said laughing. She turned on the CD player. Nelly Furtado…”Turn Off the Light.”

    “Babe, what about the neighbors?” “I don’t want to make love to the neighbors, Bell,” he whispered in her ear. He had her pressed against the Navigator. His pants were down and he was like concrete. She could feel it against her bare thigh. He was unbuttoning the front of the dress. He slid it down her shoulders and let it stop at her waist. Didn’t want to give the neighbors too much of a show. Mansions had too many damn windows. By her request, they had Asian-print curtains. Not tonight, babe!
    He pulled down the straps of her bra and slid it down to her waist, also. The night air was cool, making her nipples erect. The night was beautiful. Clear, midnight sky. The stars were twinkling like Reyjah’s earrings. The perfect night to ravage your wife against a sport utility vehicle. He looked at her beautiful face. She smirked. She never smiled, she smirked. Undercover, closet freak that was she. Antoine smiled and gave her a teasing kiss. He licked her bottom lip, but once her mouth was open, he pulled it back again. “Why you playin’, babe?” she asked. “HeHe” he mocked. He loved to play hard to get. She always did. He pressed his lips to hers. When his manhood bumped against her lily, she walked her legs outward. He lifted her up and impaled her with his flesh-covered stamen. She moaned against his lips. He planted kisses along her throat. She gripped his shoulders. I hope I don’t bruise him this time, she thought. She was a strong-assed girl. Antoine gave her nipples the Tootsie Pop treatment. Lick the outside, then nibble on the center. “OOOHHHH!” He He. You like that don’t you. Held pushed his weight against the vehicle, as he simultaneously pumped deeper onto her, teasing her wet clitoris with his finger, and treating her nipples to a tongue bath. Her head banged against it. But she didn’t care. What’s a mere concussion when you’re receiving wild pleasure from your husband? She had Aleve in the medicine cabinet anyway…OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Thought interrupted by orgasm.

    ************************************************************************************************

    Antoine had knocked her out. That was his intention. He what it took to put her to sleep. He gently laid her down and completely undressed her. “I’m so sorry Bell,” he said. He kissed her lips gently. She was so :Beautiful. Intelligent. Successful. Loving. Tolerant. It wasn’t her fault. He was a bastard. A good for nothing, manwhoring bastard that had a problem. The phone rang. She didn’t move, thank God.
    “Hello?” “Hello Antoine, are you still coming?” “Yes, I’ll be there in 15mins.”

    Reyjah could feel wetness against her husband’s cheek. The memories disguised as tears streamed down from his eyes and rested between their faces. His hand reached up to caress a nipple through her Vickie’s gold Venice lace bra. “What are you thanking me for?” she asked, softly as she began her own facial fountain. “For loving you so much?”

    She had woken up in the middle of the night. She needed an Aleve. Stumbling, she went into the bathroom. She flicked on the light switch. “Lawdy, I’m butt-nekkid!!” she said through squinched eyes. As she searched for Aleve, in the medicine, she suddenly stopped. She looked down on the bathroom counter. Why was the condom box open? Why was the damn thing, empty? “AWWW HELLSES NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she shouted. “That’s his ASS!!” She rushed back into the bedroom. He had left her alone. He was not in their bed. Dirty bastard. After putting on an “I Love N.Y.” T-shirt and a pair of red bikini briefs, she went downstairs to Antoine’s study. “Guess, I’ll be a damn Nancy Drew, tonight,” she said. She had the study especially designed for Antoine. Big oak desk. Billiard table. Water cooler. Big Screen TV. Fountain. Fireplace. Leather couch. Persian carpet. Medieval weapons on the wall. The damn $6,000 fish tank with the damn $300 Chinese Tailbar Lionfish. Damn the fish!! Damn it all. She wanted to destroy everything. Like Angela Basset in “Waiting to Exhale.” Take his car, and burn his clothes. NAHHHHHH. She was too cut to go to jail. And she wasn’t down with that inmate stuff, either. She found the keys that he had hidden behind the 14th century crossbow. “You might be a freak, but you sure ain’t no sneak,” she said. She unlocked his desk drawers. What the hell is all this?” she asked. She had found tons of bills. “1-900-HOTT-GYRL, 1-900- WETSTUFF….Eeeewwww!!” she said, throwing them down in disgust. The phone rang. She let the machine pick it up. “Hello Antoine, this is Yasmine, last night was great, but aren’t you afraid your wife will find out? Anyways, call me when you want to go for round two.” She looked at their wedding picture. Was it all for nothing? Was she just cover-up? Had she been played in the worst way? Thank God for separate bank accounts. Reyjah dropped down to her knees. “No, I don’t want to kick his ass…if I kiss his ass, I’ll kill him. If I kill him, I’ll go to jail. If I go to jail, I’ll be molested but a man-looking chick. If I get molested, I’ll kill her. If I kill her, they’ll put me in solitary. If they put me in solitary, I’ll go crazy. If I go crazy, they’ll let me out. If they let me out, I’ll kill the warden. If I kill the warden, they’ll put my ass in the electric chair….” She babbled. She had to. Anything to keep from crying.

    ************************************************************************************************

    Antoine quietly tiptoed through the door. All of a sudden, he felt a hard blow to his jaw. He fell to the floor. Reyjah flicked on the light. She had the bills in one hand and answering machine in the other. She stood over him. He looked up at her. Her beautiful face was twisted in a scowl. Her blue eyes were red and puffy; She hit the play button on the answering machine. “Hello Antoine this is Yasmine………aren’t you afraid your wife will find out…?” Antoine was caught. “What the hell is this, Antoine?” she said throwing the phone sex bills at him. “Don’t try that, ‘What were you doing in my study’ crap with me, either, I’ll slice your dick in 12 little pieces and send them to your clients,” she hissed. “You had better start telling me the damn truth, or I’ll knock you down so flat, they’ll put my ass under the damn jail.” He knew she would. She could throw some hands. She put a woman in the hospital and made another one lick a toilet bowl. She had uppercut him for saying something really ignorant. He slowly got to his feet and walked past her to the couch. “All right, Reyjah, I’m caught,” he admitted slowly. At least he wore his wedding ring.
    She couldn’t believe the story he had told her. It was bull**** to her. “I need music,” she said. She went to the stereo. “Baby Girl” by Nelly Furtado was playing on the radio. She sat on the floor. She dropped her face in her hands. “You mean to tell me that you are spreading your dick, no my dick around like Country Crock, because you have a sexual addition?” she said incredulously. “You couldn’t come up with a better excuse?” “Bell, I should just leave you, you deserve much better than me. Reyjah looked up. If looks could kill, Antoine would be dead. “HELL NO!!!” she shouted. She quickly got to her feet. He held Antoine’s face firmly. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. “Since when do YOU decide whether I want you or NOT? I MARRIED YOU!!! LOOK AT ME DAMMITT!!!!” He slowly looked up at her. She was more hurt than she was angry. Back to his old ways. DAMN. She was squeezing his face hard. "You are MY HUSBAND, Antoine! MINE DAMMIT!!!!” she stressed.” WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER!!!!” She let go of his face. She began stripping off her T-shirt and panties. Her body was delicious. Brown, soft skin, rock hard muscles. His playground. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, Ant,” she said confidently. “Look at me, I’m beautiful, smart, and dammitt people like me,” she said with nonchalance. She walked up to Antoine. Grabbing him by the hair, she pulled him to his knees. “Ow! Babe that hurts,” he winced. “I didn’t feel it,” she said. After releasing his hair, she eased him to the floor with a perfectly pedicured foot. She stood directly over his face, her women’s center waving “hello, remember me?” “Unh-uh, I’m not giving up on you, Antoine. I know you love me,” she said firmly. She stepped back and straddled his waist. She began unzipping his pants. “Bell, what are you doing?” he asked, in a terrified voice. Her aggressiveness was scaring the hell out of him, but at the same time he was aroused. His brown eyes grew wide. “I’m taking what’s mine whether you like it or not,” she hissed as she slid his baggy jeans and boxers down. There it was. EXCALIBUR. “Looks like your sword needs a sheath,” she said sarcastically. Reyjah impaled her moist flower onto her wayward husband’s shaft. He moaned. She was so soft and warm. Like damp velvet. “I…am….not…giving..up…on…this…marriage…and..neither ….are …YOU!!!” she scolded as she rode her husband. Her breath was ragged. She wanted to break it in half. Antoine held her hips as she rocked against him. Damn, she felt good. He had turned her into such a freak. His fingers caressed her clitoris.

    “OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!” she said. He always knew where to touch. Too bad he touched others. “No, you ARE NOT WALKING OUT ON ME, I’LL BREAK YOUR DAMN LEGS FIRST!!!!” she screamed. Does her head spin around? She rocked faster and harder against Antoine. This time he was moaning. “Rey..jah, I love you…..I don’t want….. to leave you….I want HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” She released herself from him. He looked at her dismay. “You really thought I was gonna get YOU off, didn’t you?” she asked. Reyjah gave him a hard, cold kiss on the lips. She glared at him as she walked toward one the eight other rooms in the mansion. Thank God for mansions. More marriages could be saved in them. Tears blurred Antoine’s eyes. How could he have been such a bastard? She drove them to Dr. Kevin Tse, a shrink. She was blasting Nelly Furtado. She loved her Nelly Furtado. “I don’t want to be your baby girl…..” Antoine figured she was directing the song at him. He sighed. She was doing this because she loved him TOO DAMN MUCH. Any other woman would have left his whoring ass. She never put him down. She never made him feel like crap. His jaw hurt like hell, but he deserved it. His wife didn’t play that s***. He looked at the platinum wedding set on her finger. She was clutching the hell out of that steering wheel. Her face was on the road. She had called her employees at Sha-Hair-Azad. She was taking a few days off. Family emergency. They understood. “Handle your business,” said Midori. “Me and Sheila will hold the fort down.” Reyjah looked pretty. A semi-transparent, black cropped, scrunch neck sweater. She wore a black bra underneath. He loved those leather pants. He was afraid of her boots. All her shoes scared him.
    Why the hell didn’t she just leave the man alone? That’s what all her friends wondered. Why go through the hurt? “I love him dammit,” she had said. End if discussion. “I love you, Bell,” he said. He took her hand from the steering wheel. His voice sounded sincere? But was his dick sincere? It seemed like it had a mind of it’s own. A tear fell down her beautiful, brown face. Her hair was center-parted and straight. Strands fell in her face. She didn’t want him to see the tears. She couldn’t hide from him. “I love you, too, that’s why your still walking,” she replied. He deserved that. Not her, but that.

    “Do you love your husband?” asked Dr. Tse. He was from Taiwan. The best in L.A. Twenty years of experience. Twelve books. Radio show on the weekends at midnight. “That’s why I’m here doc,” she replied. “That’s why I haven’t broken his damn legs!” she was hostile. Fair. Struggling with love and hate. “I love you, but I hate what you are doing to me,” she had said in the car to her man. Her man? Everybody’s dick was more like it. The doctor gave her a Kleenex. “It’s not about me doc, I’m doing everything right.” She was confident, Good. “It’s him with the problem.” She understood. Antoine was in awe of her. Damn, she was loyal. Even when pissed. Even when betrayed.
    He did not deserve her but her won her anyway. Blessed be. God was merciful. So was she. “I love you,” he said. Dr. Tse nodded.

    He had never taken a polygraph before. “Only answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ Antoine, the doctor instructed. Antoine nodded. He stared onto his wife’s blue eyes. Her brown skin was streaked with tears. Being with Antoine required waterproof makeup. For tears and for sweat. “Is your name Antoine Laconte?” “Yes.” “Is your wife’s maiden name ‘Bennett’?” “Yes.” “Do you enjoy your sex life with Reyjah?” “Yes.” He had damn better. All those damn positions that she put herself in. “Were you faithful to Reyjah 1 month after your honeymoon?” “Yes.” “Have you been faithful to Reyjah in the past three months?” “No.” Reyjah stood up. “What???” she asked angrily. “Reyjah, you may leave if you wish, but it’d be best if you stay.” She glared at Antoine. The vows he had written were all a lie it seemed. She sat back down with her arms crossed over her chest. She saw the desperation in his face. He was sorry. He needed help. “Antoine, have you been faithful in the six months that you’ve been married?” Pause. Reyjah’s eyes were slit. “No.” “BASTARD!!!” she screamed. She wanted to punch him. “How could you? What the hell is wrong with you?!!” she wanted to throw that chair at him. “Reyjah, there’s only one question left,” said Dr. Tse. “Antoine, at any time of your affairs, did you ever stop loving Reyjah.” “No, never.” “Reyjah, he’s telling the truth,” said Dr. Tse gently. “I respect him for that,” she replied in a tear-choked voice. “That’s why I’m still here.”

    “I guess I’m too much woman for you,” she said to Antoine. The doctor looked on. “Antoine is that true? Are you intimidated by your wife?” Antoine looked at his beautiful, wife. He rubbed his jaw. “I have never met anyone like her, I guess at times her passion overwhelms me. I think I admire her more than I am intimidated by her.” Dr. Tse looked at Reyjah. “He admires you, Reyjah,” he said. That was sweet. But he wasn’t off the hook. “I was a gigolo when we met. Even when I was with other women, I always imagined her face. And I would cry. We were best friends, then. But I was falling in love.” Antoine explained. He stood in front of Reyjah. “I could talk to her about anything, it didn’t matter.” He got down on his knees. “Bellissima, I love you so much, and I don’t deserve you.” “Damn right, you don’t,” she blurted. “But you’re stuck with me, anyway. We’re gonna get through this, Ant. But don’t think I’m gonna tolerate this s***.” “Antoine, what was your family like?” asked Dr. Tse. The couple in his Greco-Roman styled office was obviously deeply devoted to each other. She ran her fingers through his chin-length, wavy hair. “My father slept around on my mother a lot. One night, she went to visit my grandmother…” his accent was deepening. “And I accidentally walked in on him with his best friend’s wife. So he allowed me to join in. told me, it would make me a better man. And not to tell MaMa,” Antoine began to cry. Reyjah hugged his neck. She cried too. “Oh God,” she said. “That’s horrible.” Antoine cried on her shoulder. “MaMa eventually found out, so she killed herself. PaPa found her hanging in the bedroom,” he continued. His coffee eyes were surrounded in red. Dr. Tse shook his head. Reyjah gently held Antoine’s face in one hand. She wiped his tears with her long, soft hair. “Is that why you wanted me to leave you? You thought I’d kill myself too?” she asked softly. Her anger was replaced with sympathy. He nodded. “I didn’t want to lose you, Reyjah. I had already lost one beautiful woman in my life, that I loved dearly.” He touched Reyjah’s face. “I’m the thorn on your side, babe,” she said. “You can’t get rid of me…I won’t let me leave your side. You’re my best friend.” “And you are mine,” he said, stroking her cheek. “So Antoine, you spent the rest of your life having sex with women for money?” asked Dr. Tse. Antoine nodded. He closed his eyes. “My father would bring home a different woman every night…that’s how he made money. My own career started when I was 16. When I was 18, I came to America and continued.” He was so ashamed. “Don’t be ashamed, that’s all you knew. You didn’t know any different, Ant.” Reyjah was so sweet. He thanked her understanding with a soft kiss. He nibbled on her Angelina Jolie-like lips. “You have a good woman, there, Antoine,” said Dr. Tse. “I know,” said Antoine as he kissed her again. “The best.”

    ************************************************************************************************

    She still stayed in one of the guestrooms of the mansion. Antoine attended an ADDICTIONS group for three months. She supported him .She would never, ever put him down. She forgave him. She prayed for him. Her STD test came back clean. She breathed a sigh of relief. The calls stopped. He came home at decent hours. He would visit her at work, and take her out to lunch. They flew to New York to visit her parents for a weekend. He admired his in-laws strong bond. They hardly ever saw each other, but they were so confident in each other. Reyjah’s mama, Gia was so supportive of her husband. Not just in the sunny days, but the storm as well. Antoine saw that in Reyjah. She was his shelter through his own storm. A monsoon, even. Everyday, he saw the reasons why he fell in love with her. Why he married her. Why he wanted her to be his eternal best friend. Why he spent all that money for that engagement band. She was worth it. More than that.

    “Antoine, have you been faithful to Reyjah in the past six months?” “Yes”. “He’s telling the truth Reyjah.” Reyjah began to cry. He did it. They did it. Dr. Tse unhooked Antoine from the machine. “Just in time for our anniversary, Bell,” he said. He embraced her tightly. “You’re my hero, Reyjah,” he said. “I love you so much.” He was squeezing the hell out of her. But not enough to hurt. The hurt was over.

    “Keep your eyes closed, Bell,” he said as he led her inside. Reyjah heard a buzzing noise. “Open!” he said. She was in a tattoo parlor. “What’s going on, babe?” she asked. A tattoo artist walked up to them. The guy had piercings in his ears, nostrils and chin. But he had the face of an Armani model. His muscular arms were tattooed with tribal markings and Celtic crosses. “May I help you?” he asked. There was another one in his tongue. Bet his girlfriend loved that. She would. “I want a tattoo, her name, across my bicep,” said Antoine. “Babe, what …..?” said Reyjah. Was he nuts? “Is she your wife?” as the artist. Damn, she was gorgeous. “Yes, she is,” said Antoine. “And I’ll love her forever.” The artist smiled. “Come with me, folks.”

    Reyjah was so touched. Mainly, when the artist was filling the back of her shoulder with blue ink with a clean needle. She clenched her teeth. Love hurts, but true love is worth hours of pricking and days of itching and swelling. Especially when it was beautiful.
    Like theirs.

    He turned on the CD player in the Navigator. “There’s no other way that I can express how sorry I am,” he said as he drove them home. Nelly Furtado apologized for him:
    Scared of You-Nelly Furtado

    i'm sorry i forsake you
    i'm sorry that i left you
    i'm sorry i did forget you
    and i'm sorry that i made myself feel better
    by making you feel never good enough
    i know you'll shine much brighter than i ever could
    maybe that is why i was

    chorus:
    scared of you (and in everything i do i'm still thinking of you) oh, you
    and i know you were scared of me (but every time i tried to love you i just fell through) too

    desculpa-me se te-ofendi
    desculpa-me se te-esqueci
    desculpa me se-eu te-deixei
    eu te-deixei
    e desculpa-me por mi sintir bem com tua dor
    sabes que te-adore mais sei que tu estrela a maior do que minha, do que minha
    e por isso

    chorus:
    eu tenho medo deste amor (os dias passo pensando en ti) amor
    medo deste amor (salve-me porque agora estou caindo) amor

    scared of you i was
    scared of you i was
    scared of you
    scared of you
    scared of you

    Reyjah squeezed his hand. “I love you, Antoine Laconte,” she said earnestly. The back of her shoulder was killing her. She kept forgetting that tattooing hurt more when body fat was low. Oh well, her husband was worth every dot and prick. More than that. “And I love you, more, Reyjah Laconte,” he said devotedly, as he caressed her slender fingers. More than ever.

    It had been a challenging year, but marriages aren’t like the fairy tales you read about. People have problems, issues. No such thing as the perfect marriage. Love can conquer all. All that seems impossible, all that seems imperfect. Reyjah was the perfect example. She had stood behind Antoine even when he was being down and outright dirty. Filthy, even. She didn’t burn his clothes, or kick him out. She didn’t file for divorce; she didn’t cancel his credit cards. She didn’t dog him out to her friends. She had reached out to him. He had fallen, and she helped him up. Their marriage was not selfish. She was only selfish about him. “You are mine! My husband,” he had remembered her saying. He loved her for that. She returned to their room on their anniversary. She was wearing a gold, Venice lace bra from Victoria’s Secret. Of course a cute little matching thong adorned her cute little tushie. “Welcome back,” he had said. “I never left,” she replied smirking. She hadn’t smirked at him in so long. Her hair was pinned up. Once again, those little wisps blocked her pretty blue eyes. She approached him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She had missed him. She had missed them. But she had to do what she had to do. Stand by her man and stand for herself. Antoine eagerly received her lips. His tongue parted her mouth and dove inside. Antoine’s tongue gently massaged hers. He tasted the Peppermint Scope in her mouth. She liked it because it was blue. Her soft, brown hands caressed his chest. His hands sneaked up to unhook her bra. He gently slid it down her well- defined shoulders and dropped it to the floor. His tongue tasted the contours of her mouth. He picked her up and laid her against the satin covered pillows of their king-sized bed. He settled in between her parted legs. He slowly broke the kiss and traveled along her throat. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his thick, soft curls. She was happy. She wanted to cry. His tongue was bathing one of her nipples. His hands were removing her thong. His skin was so soft against hers. Damn, she had missed him. They would usually make love three times a day, but when he began his counseling she had cut him off. He was lucky if he even caught her naked coming out of the shower. Her body ached with need. Her heart ached with love. She felt wetness against her two navel rings. He had bought her new, platinum ones for her anniversary gift. Custom-made by Whitney Boin Studios. He had gone out with her father when they visited. Real sneaky Ant. She thought the design was extremely beautiful. Her new, navel jewelry resembled their wedding bands. That’s love. They even interlocked. Damn. His body was sliding down. She knew what that meant. He gently and slowly eased her legs apart. His beard tickled the inside of her thighs. Aww Shuckey Duckey now!!!! “I haven’t had my favorite dessert in such a long time,” he joked, his breath was warm against her core. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. His tongue flicked against her outer lips. Then it swirled. Her breathing became erratic. Happy anniversary to me! His replaced his tongue with a finger. That was it. He plunged in and pulled out. She was going crazy. She clutched on to the satin sheets. His tongue tasted her clitoris. Teased the hell out of it. Her hips were bucking against his face. She was drenched. “OOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!! She hit her high note. Thank God the windows didn’t break. “Babe, don’t wake the neighbors,” he joked. “Screw the neighbors!” she said in a passion-frustrated voice. “I’d rather make love to you,” he said seductively. He slid up along her body, enjoying her softness and muscularity. Their eyes locked. Their lips were next. He gyrated against her. She moaned against hip full lips. “Make love to me!” she cried. She couldn’t take it. “Do it now, Antoine!!!” What Reyjah wants, Reyjah gets. What Reyjah asks, Reyjah receives. Antoine plunged into her. “OOHHHHGOODDDDDDDDD!!!!!” she said. He moaned himself. He had missed her warm wetness. She was like silk against him. He was careful not to press against her back, and she was wary of his bicep. Nevertheless, they rocked against each other in their own private dance. Their lips taunted, their tongues teased. She slowly caressed the muscles that she hadn’t seen in so long. Antoine was hers. Dammit. And tonight proved it.

    Her nipple was growing hard from his touch. “Thank you for being my wife,” he said. He gave her a kiss. “I love you,” she said. “I know,” he said. “I love you for loving me.” “Speaking of which,” she replied as she straddled him. She removed her bra and tossed it to the side. His eyes caught her look of desire. He smiled wickedly. She bent down and kissed him tenderly. “Happy Anniversary, Mr. Laconte,” she said. “Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Laconte.”

    Baby Girl- Nelly Furtado

    I’ve seen a man cry
    I’ve seen a man die inside
    I’ve seen him say to me that he is only mine
    That he gotta do what is best for him
    Never let me in, not even begin

    To tell me I’m the one under his moon and sun
    That I am the thing that revolves around him
    But while on top of him
    I know what’s best for him
    I’ll show him how to win
    And let me in cuz

    1 - I don’t wanna be your baby girl
    I don’t wanna be your little pearl
    I just wanna be what’s best for me
    To be one-da-dum with my own star under my own sun

    We’re all sorry now, I didn’t mean to wow
    Make you cry like that, it’s just a little spat
    Still I want you to know, though I love you so
    It’s mostly me dreaming, forcing, believing

    That you’re an ideal, hell I never steal
    But I stole you from, from another one
    So take yourself and wrap around my little finger
    Cuz that’s how I think it should swing

    Repeat 1

    Why can’t he see
    Why can’t he see
    What’s inside of me, yeah

    Don’t you, don’t you call me coochie-coo, a little girl now
    Don’t you gaga goo no coochie-coo girl now
    I’m so much more, can’t you see?
    Can’t you see?

    Look who’s writing now a token of their love
    Can’t you see love that it’s just because
    I wanted a cheap way to get inside your head
    And not a cheap way to get inside your bed

    Oh you’re running now, with that silly one
    It’s all over now, this woman’s just begun
    Maybe we’ll see about the will and the way
    Butterflies return some day

    Repeat 1