Read Online Nasty by Dr. Xyz - Free Book Online
Authors: Dr. Xyz
Tags: Fiction, General, Erótica, Romance, Medical, Biography & Autobiography, Foreign Language Study, Adult, African American, African American women, Urban Life, Urban Fiction, Divorced women, AIDS (Disease), Aids & Hiv
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FUCKIN’ FAGGOT! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT? WILL SOMEBODY, SOMEWHERE, TELL ME, PLEASE! WHAT WAS IT ALL ABOUT?”
Frustrated, Nicola felt her way to the nightstand and turnedon the light. She looked up over in the sitting area and spotted the huge framed photograph hanging over the fireplace. It was the one picture of Harrison she didn’t have the heart to pull down. It was a photo of them snuggled together on the yacht,
Nicola’s Beauty
, enjoying their honeymoon in the Indian Ocean near the Seychelles Islands. She looked at it from where she stood and threw the bottle at it, smashing both the picture and the memories into a million pieces.
“Next…” Nicola pointed toward the pole, as if she was giving instructions out to her rehab crew, “we’re getting rid of YOU!” Nicola found her way to the bed and passed out.
The next morning, everything about Nicola hurt; throat, muscles, brain, and bones. She vomited her insides out till all she could do was dry-heave. A high fever kept her body in sweats and chills. Frighteningly ill, her housekeeper called the ambulance. When they arrived, Nicola refused to go to the hospital. Instead, she popped Tylenol and drank the soups and teas that the kind Jamaican woman had prepared for her. On the seventh day of her illness, she awoke without pain or a fever.
That evening, she took a long hot bath and dressed in her most provocative outfit. She found the most dangerous pair of stiletto heels in her shoe closet and strapped them on. With one last confident look in the mirror, Nicola’s reflection confirmed that she was indeed a beautiful woman.
Nicola walked out of her brownstone that night a completely different woman. She was no longer the shallow, timid woman that Harrison “saved.” No longer the tragic child that two sociopath deviants had had their way with. She would never again be that vulnerable infant who was victim to an insane mother’s reign of terror.
This was a new Nicola. She would now be in charge and run-ning the show.
The Nicola Show
. Starring, you got it, Nicola. And she dared any man, woman, or beast to stand in her way. And this time payback would indeed be a bitch. To a society that had stood by and let so much happen to an innocent baby, Nicola was going to tell all…FUCK YOU!
Clicking her heels to a confidant rhythm, she strutted proudly down Convent Avenue. As she walked, she could feel a little warm “itch” from her G-shot. It made her smile, because tonight she was retiring her pink little electronic buddy. Tonight she was in search of the real thing…a real hard, fuck-you-all-night, never-get-tired dick.
When she got to 145th Street, Nicola hailed down a cab.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Downtown. Club Zeon.” Nicola sat back in the seat as she headed to the hottest club in the city.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T
he African drums pulsated at a frenetic joyful pace. Ophelia had problems keeping up with the younger students.
“MOVE THOSE HIPS, OPHELIA! Move them to the right…now left…NOW! That’s it, baby! Ooooh…you got it. Now give me some nice belly rolls! Here…like this…” The young, buff, scantily clad instructor slid up behind her and rhythmically rubbed his pelvis against her buttocks, encouraging her body to do the same. He then placed both his muscular hands on Ophelia’s abdomen, forcing her to perform the proper movement. “Ahhhh…you got it, girl!” Pleased with his pupil’s progress, he moved to the front of the room and continued to lead the class.
Now able to keep up with the class, Ophelia hopped, stomped her feet, and jumped up and down, matching ancient African rhythms beat by beat. Her heart, loving what she was doing, pumped in tune with the music. Sheets of hot sweat poured down her back as the endorphins cascading through her body made her feel good, inside and out. This was a love dance. She was in love with her body and wanted it healthy. It was her way of saying thanks to the Creator.
Later, in
Frustrated, Nicola felt her way to the nightstand and turnedon the light. She looked up over in the sitting area and spotted the huge framed photograph hanging over the fireplace. It was the one picture of Harrison she didn’t have the heart to pull down. It was a photo of them snuggled together on the yacht,
Nicola’s Beauty
, enjoying their honeymoon in the Indian Ocean near the Seychelles Islands. She looked at it from where she stood and threw the bottle at it, smashing both the picture and the memories into a million pieces.
“Next…” Nicola pointed toward the pole, as if she was giving instructions out to her rehab crew, “we’re getting rid of YOU!” Nicola found her way to the bed and passed out.
The next morning, everything about Nicola hurt; throat, muscles, brain, and bones. She vomited her insides out till all she could do was dry-heave. A high fever kept her body in sweats and chills. Frighteningly ill, her housekeeper called the ambulance. When they arrived, Nicola refused to go to the hospital. Instead, she popped Tylenol and drank the soups and teas that the kind Jamaican woman had prepared for her. On the seventh day of her illness, she awoke without pain or a fever.
That evening, she took a long hot bath and dressed in her most provocative outfit. She found the most dangerous pair of stiletto heels in her shoe closet and strapped them on. With one last confident look in the mirror, Nicola’s reflection confirmed that she was indeed a beautiful woman.
Nicola walked out of her brownstone that night a completely different woman. She was no longer the shallow, timid woman that Harrison “saved.” No longer the tragic child that two sociopath deviants had had their way with. She would never again be that vulnerable infant who was victim to an insane mother’s reign of terror.
This was a new Nicola. She would now be in charge and run-ning the show.
The Nicola Show
. Starring, you got it, Nicola. And she dared any man, woman, or beast to stand in her way. And this time payback would indeed be a bitch. To a society that had stood by and let so much happen to an innocent baby, Nicola was going to tell all…FUCK YOU!
Clicking her heels to a confidant rhythm, she strutted proudly down Convent Avenue. As she walked, she could feel a little warm “itch” from her G-shot. It made her smile, because tonight she was retiring her pink little electronic buddy. Tonight she was in search of the real thing…a real hard, fuck-you-all-night, never-get-tired dick.
When she got to 145th Street, Nicola hailed down a cab.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Downtown. Club Zeon.” Nicola sat back in the seat as she headed to the hottest club in the city.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T
he African drums pulsated at a frenetic joyful pace. Ophelia had problems keeping up with the younger students.
“MOVE THOSE HIPS, OPHELIA! Move them to the right…now left…NOW! That’s it, baby! Ooooh…you got it. Now give me some nice belly rolls! Here…like this…” The young, buff, scantily clad instructor slid up behind her and rhythmically rubbed his pelvis against her buttocks, encouraging her body to do the same. He then placed both his muscular hands on Ophelia’s abdomen, forcing her to perform the proper movement. “Ahhhh…you got it, girl!” Pleased with his pupil’s progress, he moved to the front of the room and continued to lead the class.
Now able to keep up with the class, Ophelia hopped, stomped her feet, and jumped up and down, matching ancient African rhythms beat by beat. Her heart, loving what she was doing, pumped in tune with the music. Sheets of hot sweat poured down her back as the endorphins cascading through her body made her feel good, inside and out. This was a love dance. She was in love with her body and wanted it healthy. It was her way of saying thanks to the Creator.
Later, in
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