A Love Story Read online

  A Love Story

  By: David Weaver This is a work of fiction. All of the

  characters, organization, and events

  portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  LCCN:

  ISBN:

  Cover Design/ Graphics: Author: David Weaver

  Typesetting: David Weaver Consulting: LaKiesha Weaver

  Copyright 2011 by David Weaver. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except by reviewer who may quote brief passages to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to my gorgeous daughter, Deja Weaver. Daddy loves you, now and forever. To my Queen, Lakiesha Weaver, who has had my back since day one. My grandmother, Rose Weaver, whom I will always love. Thank you Grandma, for everythingyou’ve done for me. To my mother, Dian King, look what your oldest son has became ... a published author! Thanks Mom, for everything. My beloved Grandfather, James Story. May you always rest in peace. You told me I could do anything that I wanted to do and it's true, your words were gold. Thank God for blessing me with the gifts of wisdom and forgiveness ... and for being my comforter when

  nothing, nor no one else could comfort me.

  Acknowledgement

  My two brothers, Cameron King and Trevor King. Stay focused and realizes that a n yt h i n g is Britteney Weaver there for me throughout the length of my incarceration. It takes a real person to write a prisoner every week when the prisoner is facing 10 to life. I love you cuz. My family ... Uncle Robert, Aunt Sheila, Uncle Charles, Uncle Candy, Aunt Ree (Rose), Eugene King (that’s my Dad), the entire King family in Ellaville GA and beyond, the entire Haven (Thomas) family in Los Angeles and beyond (whassup Gary), my cousins Keisha Swanson and Akeen Harvey (fish), my cousin Dee Dee in Jacksonville, Florida (thanks for showing me Jville). To my cousin Deroderick, who has had my back and believed in me in the beginning. I love you all.

  Shout outs to J.P. and Ivory P (even though that lifestyle is behind me, for possible. My cousin, ... thanks for being ya’ll I pray and show my respect),

  Kendrick Slaughter (the drop top Bentley is now in my tax bracket ... thanks for all the advice), Antoine Royal ...oh, I’m really REALLY bout to stunt now! Nigel C., Smoke, Big O, Nakia B., Ceyanti C., Yo yo yo, Ice Cap! My homey Wade ... what’s poppin? Chris W., Taryl T., “Uncle Matt,” Derrick F., Derrick H., the whole town of Buena Vista, GA. The city of Houston, TX. Pittsburgh, PA (whassup Kennethia). Shout out to all the soldiers on lock (federal or state, it’s still a hell-hole). Marlandow Jeffries (hold ya’ head up playa’), Deon Walker (my Mac-town POTNA), Reggie Adams (whassup Big Tex), Patrick Watson (your turn Zilla) and if I forgot someone’s name, blame it on my mind and not my heart. Smart, Black, and Rich on deck.

  BOOK ONE

  Chapter 1

  Jamal

  Feb-14th-2002 6 P.M. No thing nor no person can eat a woman's pussy like I can. Never before in life has the art of oral satisfaction been mastered on this level. Sometimes I black out in the pussy, turning into a robot with vibrating lips and a human tongue. Sometimes my tongue malfunctions and does a permanent

  clockwise/counter-clockwise cyclone.

  Sometimes I do a 45-second clitoral slurp. That means I suck on the clit like it was a straw in an almost empty cup; slurping until the juices are dripping down my chin and the cup runneth over.

  Sometimes I make the woman sit on my face; locking my arms around her thighs until her soul squirts into my mouth. Ummmm, I love the taste. See, one of my first girlfriends once told me that it was in my DNA to please a woman. She was definitely not lying. I'm more reliable to give a girl an orgasm than two vibrators at the same time. Sometimes it's my gift, sometimes it's my curse.

  ****** "Awwww SHIT! Uh, uh, uh, shit! Oh! Oh! Ooooh! Ah, ah, ah, ah, got damn this dick good! Awwwww! Damn! I'm cominggg againnnnnn!"

  I had Mya sideways in the bed with one leg up like a Lamborghini door. She had been screaming for the past 20 minutes as if someone was killing her.

  "Aw, aw, awwwww! Awwwwww! Uh, uh, muh, uh, uh, uhhhhhh! What are you doing to meeee?! Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhhh!"

  I was sliding some thick heavyweight dick into her unmercifully. Every time I went deep, it made a juicy splat sound, like someone slapping the surface of the water in a bathtub.

  Splat. Splat. Splat. Splat. "Awwwwwww shiiittttt! I'm comingg againnnnn! Ohhhhhhhh!"

  I pulled out of her while she was coming, forcing her to grab my thick dick with both hands and pull me back into her pussy.

  "Huh. Huh. Huh. Huh. Ahhhh!"

  Mya went into violent convulsions; tremors so deep that it made my keys on the night stand rattle. Her lips formed the letter O, but no sound came out. Her arms were shaking like she was erasing something with a pencil; and tears of ecstasy rolled down her cheeks. She was shaking so frantically that I thought she was about to have a seizure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head; and when the sound finally came out of her mouth again, it was not natural.

  It was a noise that I had never heard before. At this point I absolutely knew for certain that I was putting it down. She shuddered and screamed a scream that sounded like her last 5 generations of female family members had all invested into her for this one orgasm.

  Her toes had curled into a fist and her fingernails had a canvas and a paintbrush. She drew blood.

  I glanced down and saw a creamy white puddle on her emerald green sheets. My dick looked like I'd dipped it into a bowl of whipped cream and her thighs looked like I'd poured the remainder of the bowl onto them. Her screaming and her shaking continued. Her eyes closed and her nostrils opened up, allowing her to take a deep breath of fulfillment.

  Her arms continued shaking as if she had a coin in her hand and she was scratching a winning lottery ticket.

  See, it was not my duty to care if she had a seizure or became unconscious. It was not my duty to care if this woman died. My sole purpose on earth was to deliver happiness. To deliver fulfillment to those who are less fortunate.

  To deliver orgasms.

  Sometimes I felt like a surgeon; dutifully opening a woman's delicate body to operate on the problem. It was not my job to come, my job was to deliver.

  My pleasure comes from the female's gratification. My gratification comes from the female's pleasure.

  ****** "What is this Mya?"

  "Huh? Towels and a washcloth..." "What I need this for?"

  "So you can clean up, take a shower, or

  whatever..."

  Jamal shot her a look that confused her. "What Jamal?"

  "I can take a shower when I get to my

  condo. I'm only ten minutes away." Mya's face contorted and a mist of sadness rinsed across her face. "Why can't you spend the night with me Jamal? Why you gotta' up and leave?"

  Jamal got out of the bed and started putting on his clothes.

  "I'm leaving because I don't live here, one, and two, there's nothing here for me."

  "But I'm here for you..."

  Jamal's silence to her statement had an elaborate vocabulary; it said more in

  muteness than could possibly be said in audio. Yet she couldn't accept it, she needed Jamal's explanations and reasoning to massage the sound waves.

  She wrapped her body in her powder pink silk robe, put her panties on and approached Jamal while he was sitting down putting his shoes on. Behind him, her 96 inch plasma flat screen donned the wall like a billboard in Times Square. Her carpeting was plush, and sank 8 inches upon contact. Underneath it was a heated floor that heated the carpet, making a person's bare foot feel as if it were sinking into a w
arm cloud.

  The home had a fragrance that couldn't be attained from an air freshener can. It had the smell of new money.

  "Jamal," Mya whispered as she started caressing his neck. "Baby I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I really am baby."

  Jamal glared at her; his eyes soaking up all of the details of this beautiful specimen.

  5'4", skin the color of sliced cheese, with eyes the color of a sidewalk.

  The light gray in her eyes had a polish to it that looked as if it had recently been applied. She was beautiful; clingy, and rich, all of the qualities that Jamal actively seeked out in order to survive. Most of the times, simply being clingy and rich could just about guarantee that Jamal had created another client.

  The cold thing about it was the fact that the women didn't even know that they were clients. And if they did know, they were in a perpetual state of denial.

  "I know you're here for me Mya, and that means a lot to me; believe me it really does."

  "O.k... so... are you staying or what?"

  Mya could feel an emotional outburst approaching the surface of her controlled demeanor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath while waiting on Jamal to answer the question.

  "I told you, I'm not staying at your house Mya; I'm just not."

  "Why?!" The outburst finally broke

  through.

  She had been dealing with Jamal for 4 months now, and he seemed perfect in every way. Or almost every way. Whatever his reason was for not wanting to stay with her, she was going to try to fix it right then and there. It was Valentines.

  Jamal smiled at her and sat back on the seat.

  "Why? I've told you why before, but you thought I was playing or joking."

  "Wait, well tell me again; just tell me one more time why you can't stay Jamal."

  "Psssh... I'm a player."

  "What does that supposed to mean? I don't get it..."

  Jamal groaned and rolled his eyes. He reached over and grabbed his car keys off of the black granite table.

  "Jamal got damnit, WAIT!"

  Mya wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close to her without speaking. Her breathing behavior was erratic, and it sounded like she'd just completed running a marathon.

  After a couple of minutes she began to regain her composure. She toned her voice down and looked Jamal in the eyes.

  "What does it mean that you're a player Jamal?"

  Jamal grabbed her arms and pushed them away from his body.

  "It means that I'm not a liar. It means that I'm not a cheater. I'm not going to tell you that you're the only woman for me because you're not. I'm not that person Mya. I have feelings for you but I want too much out of life to accept one woman. I-"

  "But I can give you whatever you want and need Jamal. Everything..."

  Jamal shook his head and turned his collar straight up in the air. He was definitely one of the most arrogant men of all time, but women were attracted to his confidence.

  Mya opened a file cabinet out of desperation and grabbed an uncounted stack of bills.

  "Here Jamal!"

  Jamal turned around and saw Mya with her arms extended like a zombie. She was holding some money out for him to grab.

  "What's this about Mya?"

  "I just wanted to give you something to think about, that's all..."

  Jamal grabbed the money and flipped through it briefly, quickly noticing that the smallest bill was a 50.

  "How much is this Mya?"

  Mya looked irritated by the question. A quick read of her face would reveal that money was nothing to her and she'd rather not be discussing something so petty.

  "I didn't count it, but its probably between $15-25,000."

  Jamal split the money into sections and stuffed the sections into his various pockets.

  "I'm still not staying here tonight Mya."

  "That's fine. O.K... Just promise me that you'll come see me again."

  "I don't make promises baby, but I will come see you. I'll do that. Is that o.k.?"

  Mya suppressed a slight smile.

  "Yes, that's fine... As long as I get to see you again it's always going to be o.k."

  ******

  2-14-2002 at 11 P.M. Jamal sat in Mya's driveway for a few minutes trying to get a grip on his life. He was twenty six years old and his only permanent residence was his mother's house. He had saved the money that his women had given him for seven months straight and invested the entire amount on a down payment for a Rolls Royce.

  He knew the caliber of player that he was and decided that he needed bigger tools to attract bigger jobs. Even though he couldn't afford to pay $5,000 a month for his Rolls plus $3,000 a month for insurance; it was a gamble that he was willing to take.

  It had paid off. In the past 5 months, he had attracted low profile actresses, lawyers, and even a few reality show starlets. He liked the reality show women the most because they had absolutely no financial control

  whatsoever. He had recently started renting a condo, but he didn't care if he lost it or not. It was the Rolls Royce that couldn't be compromised. Jamal would rather be

  homeless with that car instead of having a home with no car. He had to be mobile; his life demanded that.

  Riding through the streets of Pittsburgh PA, there was nothing in the world better than the attention and admiration he received from driving such a vehicle. He rode through 5th avenue downtown, admiring the women as they admired him; and eventually made his way to the Strip District. There were herds of women in high heels attending club after club after club. It seemed to be about 18

  nightclubs positioned back to back, for about a half of a mile.

  The parking lot seemed like a collective extension of the dance floor. There was music, alcohol, young ladies and older ones all standing around and pretending to be socialites. The women were grinding against each other, and some were groping the crotches of the more important men. The Burgh was such a beautiful city!

  He drove to Panda, one of the most upscale clubs in the city, and valet parked his Rolls Royce. When he handed the keys to the valet, he took a picture of the man with his iPhone just in case. The valet smiled at him.

  You should have about 100 pictures of me by now Jamal, you come here 2 or 3 times a week!"

  Jamal shrugged it off.

  "You can never be too careful man, this shit costs a quarter millions dollars. Can you afford that boy?"

  "Wow...no... I can't..."

  "Well don't worry about how many photos I take of you then. Consider it a privilege boy."

  Jamal paid the $100 entrance fee and tipped the valet before he entered the club. Even in a who's who environment Jamal still

  commanded attention. All eyes admired his smooth skin and athletic build. His smile lit up the club, but quickly turned to a frown when he saw his only competition, Markees, charming the panties off of Lisa Lee.

  Lisa Lee was the star TV anchor for the local news, and Jamal had been trying to catch her out in public for 2 years now.

  "Damn," Jamal muttered as he went and purchased the last available table.

  "Would you like anything to drink sir?" The thin waitress had a 'please seduce me' look on her face, which Jamal completely ignored.

  "No, I'm fine... but I tell you what. Send two bottles of Ace of Spades to that table over there," he indicated, by pointing at Lisa and Markees.

  "O.K. sir, that will be $1600."

  Jamal quickly counted out $2,000 and handed it to the waitress.

  "Wow, thank you so much!" The waitress walked off, not believing her good luck.

  Jamal sat back in his seat and admired the physiques of the women who were admiring him. Many of them were exuding inviting tones, but he would not ignore his personal policy. It's not in her beauty, it's in her duty. Simply stated, physical attention couldn't pay his car note, thus there was no reason to make any moves right away until he did a bit more studying on the situation.

  He glanced up just in time
to see the waitress deliver the Ace of Spades bottles to Markees and Lisa Lee. Initially, Markees and Lisa both smiled at the prospect of both receiving free bottles of alcohol.

  Until the waitress pointed in Jamal's direction.

  Markees couldn't stand Jamal, and his feelings were shown on his face. Markees tried to hand both of the bottles back to the waitress, but Lisa snatched her bottle back. Markees and Lisa had a brief, heated conversation; then Markees grabbed his bottle and approached Jamal's table.

  "Look Kees, I don't want no problems man, I just wanted you two to have a drink on me."

  "Look sucka nigga, don't send shit to my table. I don't need your hand outs, what I need is your mother."

  Jamal's demeanor would not be altered. "Kees, I have no ill will towards you my man, have a drink on me."

  "Hey, excuse me," Lisa interrupted, "I just personally wanted to come over here and say 'thank you' for buying me something to drink. A girl was getting thirsty."

  Markees had murder in his eyes. "Well I was going to get you a drink, but damn, I just met you, " Markees said while staring daggers at Lisa Lee.

  "You just met me? This gentleman doesn't even know me and he bought me a drink!"

  "What!" Markees was livid. "You mean to tell me that you're going to fall for.... You know what? Keep the drink, but let's get up out of here Lisa. You said you were ready to go..."

  Lisa rolled her eyes. "That's because I thought you weren't going to offer me a damn drink on Valentines night!"

  "All this over a drink? Jamal, you slick bastard you. You got it this time, but pay back is a bitch!" Markees turned and stormed off, mad as hell.

  Jamal watched Markees walk out of the door and shifted his attention to the smiling Lisa Lee, who was now standing before him holding her bottle.

  "Hey ma'am, I'm sorry I ruined your date. I truly am sorry."

  "No need to apologize, because that wasn't my date. I'd just met that guy about an hour ago."

  Jamal nodded his head and started watching the girls on the dance floor.

  "Uhm, excuse me... can I sit down?"

  Jamal looked Lisa in the eyes while he answered. "Nope!"