Commit

“Today I commit my life to you. For better or worse, I vow to honor you and love you with all that I have and with all that I am.”

I sat there listening to that sentence over and over. We were more than this. I thought there was a deeper level of connection. How could I have been so wrong?

When I met Cameron 10 years ago, I had just committed to living a new life. I was in graduate school working on my MBA at Georgetown University. I had lived a life well beyond my years. I was a survivor.

Our dating life was surreal. Perfect with the right amount of friction and issues to remind us that we are only human. We dated for 3 years. Laughing, dancing and traveling allowed us to grow closer. I never shared much of my past with Cameron.

He knew that I had a traumatic life, but not to the point that I could ever talk about. He said he understood. He didn’t want to pressure me. He just wanted to love.

And he did. Everywhere. I was the envy of all my friends.

I had happiness. I had security. I had love.

What more could I ask for or ever need? Nothing. Which is why I was surprised when Cameron asked me to marry him after 3 years. I mean I said yes, but was shocked because I never imagined getting married. I was happy with the way things were, but being his wife meant that I could enjoy a legal sort of bliss.

Our wedding was perfect. The beautiful island of Capri. The sun, the sand and his family and friends made it perfect. We would honor our commitment with a beautiful destination wedding. I love Cameron.

My dress was perfect. Just enough sex appeal to keep him wanting, but beautiful and feminine to not be embarrassed when we had children. Heaven. I was in heaven.

I was also drunk from the sun and wine. I stumbled to the bathroom at the venue. The women’s had a line. I didn’t care. I pushed the door to the men’s room opened. I was horrified at what I saw.

My eyes wouldn’t register. What is this? I must be dreaming.

The sounds of guttural sex were both familiar and real. I pushed open the stall. I saw the man that I loved and just married screwing my maid of honor.

I began to scream. “Whore! Slut! Asshole!” My blood was boiling as I began swinging at both people. I was going to commit murder.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt was commit.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Survive

I am a survivor. We are all meant to survive. The thing is that you can never give up. It is not in our nature to give up. We must keep pushing forward, no matter the situation. It’s in our blood. We survive.

Our capture.

We survived.

The slave ship.

We survived.

The auctioneer’s block.

We survived.

The heat.

We survived.

The beatings.

We survived.

The rape.

We survived.

Child bearing.

We survived.

Our children are survivors.

I am a child of a survivor.

I too have survived.

Child molestation.

I survived.

Rape.

I survived.

Sexual assault.

I survived.

Marriage.

I survived.

Divorce.

I survived.

Infidelity.

I survived.

Loss of a loved one.

I survived.

September 11th.

I survived.

The NYC blackout.

I survived.

Job loss.

I survived.

Poverty.

I survived.

Survival is in my blood. Nothing can stop that which God has destined for greatness. Trials and tribulations may come but we were meant to survive.

 

This post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt was survive.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

 

Temporary

She was temporary. She knew it. He never committed to spending time with her until the last minute. He was always so busy.

It was either work, family or parenting responsibilities that consumed his time. He wanted her to understand. She understood. She understood that she was temporary.

He was a successful business man. Never talked about his past and always lived in the present. He had no time for deep discussions on the state of the union, climate or world issues. Too busy to travel for pleasure. Too many work commitments. Can’t make a charity gala with her sorority. He had to take his son to practice.

She was supposed to understand that she had landed a good one. He was smart, funny and wealthy. He treated her fine, but fine wasn’t good enough. She wanted sparks. She wanted chemistry. She wanted more.

She wanted a man that seemed interested in what she had going on. She didn’t want to make temporary plans or be temporary in anyone’s life. She wanted permanency. She needed it.

His kisses said he desired. His touch was warm and inviting. But, that wasn’t enough. His heart was cold. He wanted no long term plans with her. He couldn’t even lie to her to make her believe that they had a future, but she knew. She sighed.

She sealed her good bye letter with a kiss from her red lips. She loved the gifts. She loved the man she met that night.

But she knew she was a temporary reprieve from his chaotic life. Being a mistress was always temporary. There could be no future from someone else’s husband.

Today’s post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt of the day was temporary

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

None

She had none.

No money. No food. Nothing.

Her children were hungry.

What would they eat?

Her babies.

Her failed marriage had left her nothing.

Her ex-husband was a narcissistic abuser.

She left him. Dead of night. Two kids in tow.

With $2,000 to her name, she found a safe place for her and the children in a new town. She had no family. No friends. He made sure of that. None.

All she had was her kids. Her life. Her car. Nothing else mattered without her kids.

They lived cheaply.

She found a job. It didn’t pay much. But, it was something.

She had to make more money.

She washed her clothes out on hand in the motel room and hung them to dry.

She had an idea. She put her hair up. Put on make-up. Put on some nice clothes.

She put on some heels. Grabbed her coat and purse. Left her sleeping babies to make some money.

She walked the streets. Wishing that someone would stop and give her some money for a service. The kids would be up in a few hours and she had to feed them breakfast.

A car stopped. She asked him what he wanted. He told her “A blow job”. She told him a price “$50.” He told her that was too much. He would pay her $20.00. She could take it or leave it.

She thought about her pride for a moment. She was willing to sell her body on the streets to feed her children. Is this really what life had become? She slowly opened the door to his car and hopped in. He drove off.

She realized that she didn’t need to think about pride. She had none left.

 

This post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt of the day is none

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Control

“You always have to be in control” he whispered. I smiled and asked “Who doesn’t want to be in control?” He laughed.

That deep and hearty laugh that I loved. I tenderly kissed his lips. I smiled as I licked my tongue across his lips. I put the blind fold on him.

“My turn” I said. I tightened his neckties around his wrists and tied him to the bed post. He began to rise with thoughts of ecstasy. “Relax baby. I got this” I said. He smiled and said “I love you.”

“I know” I said. I turned on the music. Nice and slow. ‘Adore’ by Prince was blaring through the wireless speakers.

I added the hot oil to his body. Slow and deep I began to massage the oil all over his chest and arms. His stomach and down his legs. Missing his manhood on purpose I began to massage his feet.

“Damn” he muttered.

I smiled.

I began to massage his thighs. Deeper and slower. Making my way up to the most important part of his body. I raised myself up and sat on his member. Sweet satisfaction filled me.

Slowly I began to ride.

I wanted to be in control. This situation. This moment with him mattered. I moved to the rhythm of the music. I controlled my hips to start and stop the pleasure I was giving him.

Control.

I loved being in control. Secretly, he did too.

He begged me to stop. “Not too fast” he stammered. I increased my speed as I rode him. Faster and faster.

He screamed.

He released.

“I love you being in control” he whispered. “I know babe and I love you too” I said.

 

 

Today’s post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt was control

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Roots

I have roots.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t.

Roots that are planted firmly where I stand.

In this state that is not my birth state, I’ve created a home.

A home with people that love and support.

Family and friends that I have known for years.

Some roots have died off.

It’s okay.

They weren’t watered.

They weren’t built to last.

There is a time for everything.

But, if you look into the ground you will see my roots

deep and strong

Like a tree I stand

Bending, not breaking

Swaying with the storms of life

being strengthened at the root

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Post. The word prompt was roots.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Territory

She had marked her territory. He was her man and she wanted to make sure all the other women knew it. So, she insisted that he didn’t hang out with his female friends anymore. If they were married, they could do couple dates. She was to be the only woman in his life.

One day she stopped by his job to bring him lunch. He was happy to see her. She noticed a woman lurking around and playful touching her man. She didn’t like it. He was hers. She waited.

Later that evening she asked her boyfriend about the woman. “Oh, she’s just a friend. Very nice woman” he replied. She smiled. This woman was infringing on her territory.

She didn’t like that.

Later that week, she began observing the woman. Watching her. She wondered what her motives were. Why did she think she could have her man?

She became obsessed with the other woman. She reasoned she was protecting her territory so it was okay. She began stalking the woman’s every move. On-line and in person.

She slashed three of her tires one night. Wrote “slut” on her car. Sent her a dead cat via a courier service. She wanted her to move on. Leave the state. To leave her job. To leave her man alone.

But, this woman wouldn’t budge.

Her relationship with her boyfriend changed. He began to feel sorry for his co-worker. He started to be concerned about her safety and well-being. He even had the nerve to cancel dinner one night. He wanted to check on her.

She told him that she understood. She told him that was why she loved him. His loyalty to friends. She told him that she would keep dinner warm for later.

He loved her. She was such an understanding woman. He wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky.

So she went to the woman’s house that night. Stayed in her car and watched them. She was intent to find out what was going on between her man and that woman.

She got out of her car and peeked in the window. She saw them sitting on the couch. The woman had her head on her boyfriend’s lap. She looked scared.

She smiled.

She returned to her car and grabbed her 9mm. She walked up to the front door of the woman’s house. Her boyfriend opened the door. He looked surprised. He smiled.

She shot him in the chest.

Blood pooled on his shirt. He fell forward. She stepped over his body and entered the woman’s house. The woman screamed and began to run away. She shot her in the back. Point blank. In her head.

She smiled.

All those lessons at the gun range paid off. She was able to hit a moving target. Her instructor would be impressed.

She took her fingers and dipped them in the woman’s blood and wrote one word on the wall.

Mine.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Prompt. The word was territory.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links:  Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.