She listened to the rhythmic beating of the steel drums. It was both deep and powerful. She could feel herself moving to the rhythm. She got up to dance.

Back and forth she sashayed her hips in slow motion. The sweat dripping down between her breasts. The music made her feel better. She forgot how good it felt to dance.

To dance away her troubles. She had so much trouble. She needed a reprieve. On this island where no one knew her. She could be free.

Free to breathe. Free to dance.

Each beat of the drum seemed to propel her into a space of pure euphoria. She was dancing away her problems.

The beat was both exotic and tempting.

Michael watched her in slow motion.

He wanted her.

He felt the longing not just in his loins but in his heart.

He could see she was beautiful and fragile. Life had been hard on her. She moved like a skilled dancer. Her hips were hypnotizing him. He needed her.

Approaching slowly from behind Michael pressed his body to her. She moved into him. He smelled her sweet scent. Lilac. He loved that smell.

He rocked with her and swayed to the beat. Nothing but heat between them and sweat rolling down their bodies. They were as one.

He whispered “I know what you’re running from.”



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


Greatest Expectation

She had the greatest expectation for today. It was her first Valentine’s Day with her new boyfriend. They had been dating for 8 months. She was happy. He was a great guy. It had been years since she felt this happy.

It was love.

She knew that it was only one day. But, one day that was about love. She didn’t expect flowers, diamonds or exotic trips. She just expected that he would show her his love. He hadn’t said he loved her. She’d been expecting to hear those words for the last four months.

That was when she told him that she loved him. It slipped out. She didn’t know how he’d react. He smiled. He kissed her. She was reassured of their connection.

But, she expected today to be the day. The day that he would utter the words she longed to hear. I mean who couldn’t resist saying I love you on Valentine’s Day? She smiled. She knew that he would tell her.

He sent her a beautiful text this morning that read:

Wake up sleeping beauty.

Happy Love Day my darling.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

She sighed. Tonight would be the night. It would be special. She would hear him tell her. After their romantic date, she would make love to him and he would tell her that he loved her.

Words matter right? She needed to know that he loved her. She needed confirmation of all the time spent that it was real and that they were on the same page. She  was expecting that tonight would be the night of many firsts.

She rolled out of bed to call him. The phone just rang. No answer. “Oh well” she thought. He must be busy. He’ll call later. She got up and got dressed. She still had to go to work.

She took extra care to dress beautifully since she wouldn’t have time after work to change for their date. She slipped on a beautiful red dress and her black pumps. Grabbed her black blazer and smiled. He would think she looked amazing.

She wanted to look amazing for him. She made sure to put her hair up into a loose bun and add minimal make-up. He liked her natural.

She got to the office and was swamped. All her team had called out and she was on overload with paperwork and phone calls. She looked up from the computer and realized it was noon and he hadn’t called her back. She called again.

No answer.

She sent a quick text:

Happy Valentine’s Day baby!

I called twice. Are you okay?

Give me a call at work when you get a chance.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

The phone rang.

Back to reality.

The day was unbelievably busy. It was a Tuesday. She expected it to be light, but oh was she wrong.

She looked at the clock on her computer. It was 5:00 pm and quitting time. She hadn’t heard back from him at all today. She began to worry. It wasn’t like him to not call. Something must be wrong.

She left work and headed to his house. She called his phone two more times and left messages that she was on her way. She was worried.

Panic set in. He could be dead. Lying on the floor. Trying to have called for help.

She needed to calm down. She didn’t know anything and her heart began to race. She parked across the street from his building and got out of the car.

She started walking swiftly to his building. She saw him get off the elevator and then turn. His back was to her. She walked into the building. She smiled. He wasn’t dead. He was alive.

He turned around and grabbed the hand of the other woman. He didn’t see her. She stopped.

He was looking at this woman as though she were the most beautiful woman in the world to him. They were in love. He kissed her finger. Her ring finger.

She saw that beautiful diamond. Shining and bright. This was his love. This is why he couldn’t tell her that he loved her. He loved another.

She didn’t expect this.



This post is brought to you by the Daily Post. The word was expectation.



Everything Changes

I closed the door on that relationship.

I walked out on someone that I thought cared about me. That wanted to build a future with me. That saw past my facade and wanted to know the true me.

But it was all a dream. A nightmare really. A boy pretends to love a girl and a girl falls for it. Pathetic huh?

But, I pushed forward. Determined to make him love me in spite of his resistance. Why? Because I needed love.Not necessarily his love. But, the love of a man who thought I was both beautiful and smart. A man with a career and security clearance.

No crazy stalkers. I needed security.

I changed. I became one of those women that did anything to keep a man. Sex was good. Not the best. But, not the worst. Conversations were okay. No depth. No real connection.

He had charm. He was a gentleman. He was a provider. I wanted more. He didn’t.

Our last time together was probably the best we ever had. Lots of kissing, alcohol and sex. We laughed. It had been too long.  I let my guard down and gave everything I had.

While he slept, I grabbed my clothes and sneaked out the room. I didn’t want to wake up here. With him. He didn’t deserve it. Truthfully, neither did I.

I blocked his number from my phone. I ignored his emails.  I acted as though he didn’t exist. Because he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It had been 6 months since I last laid with him. Physically, spiritually or emotionally. No contact. But, how long could I continue to ignore him? I rubbed my growing belly and sighed.

His seed was here with us. A reminder of our last night together. A girl. She angrily kicked me. I winced. She apparently wanted to know her daddy. Ugh!

I got up to go to the bathroom. My dang bladder could never hold more than eight ounces before the pregnancy and now I was just peeing every 10 minutes. Drink plenty of water they kept telling me. I did. All the time.

As I hobbled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet I felt a gush of fluid. I started to cramp. Painful cramping. Worse than my menstrual cramps. I screamed. I was bleeding. There was blood in the toilet. I kept cramping.

I grabbed a pad and put it in my panties.  I tried to wipe as much blood as possible and pulled up my panties. I went into my bedroom and grabbed my cell phone. I called 911.

I unlocked the door to the house. I sat in the wooden kitchen chair. I didn’t want to bleed on my new sofa. I waited for the ambulance. I remember hearing the sirens.

Tired. I was so tired. Someone was yelling for me to tell my name. Why are you yelling at me?

I woke up in the hospital. A tiny room. White and sterile. I felt my stomach. My baby.

I started to panic. I pushed the call button. The nurse came in. I asked Where is my baby?

She said the doctor was going to come in and talk to me. I started to cry. She begged me to calm down. She sat there rubbing my arm. The doctor came in.

I was in a daze. He said that I suffered a placenta abruption. Dangerous. Deprived the baby of oxygen. She’s premature. She weighs 4 pounds. Trying to stabilize her. He asked was there someone I could call. My husband? Any family?

I wasn’t married. I rubbed my empty ring finger. I was another statistic. I was going to raise the baby on my own. I felt alone for the first time in my life. My little girl needed me. I told him that I would make a few calls.

I asked the nurse to take a picture of my baby with my cell phone so that I can see her. Please I begged. She agreed.

I sat there wondering how I would tell him that I was pregnant and that I had a baby. What the hell do you say to someone that you haven’t talked to in months? The nurse returned and I saw her. She was so tiny. Beautiful, but tiny.

Wow! I’m a mommy. I sent him a text message that said. We have a daughter. She and I need to see you. Please come. I attached the picture of our daughter and prayed that he would show up.


This post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word that I selected was tiny




Jazz looked out the window and studied the moon. It was a full moon tonight. She loved full moons. They provided so much light. She loved gazing up at the dark sky just to see this big beautiful circle of love.


That’s what the moon represented to her.

It represented love.

It was perfect.



Why couldn’t people love like the moon? Bright and consistent. There was comfort in the moon. She needed to be comforted.

Many nights of loneliness plagued her. She longed for companionship after ending things with Jake. When would she have a chance at love?

She thought Jake was the one. The one man that made her realize that love was possible for her. She was a plus sized woman who never felt sexy.

Until she met Jake. He changed that. He changed her.

Her size wasn’t important. Her hips were something sexy he said often. Her thighs were magnificent he yelled whenever she complained about her chub rub. He said her stomach was gorgeous as he kissed her naked body with the moon serving as their only light when making love.


Jake had her believe that anything was possible. He helped her discover her own identity. She would always be thankful for that.

Nothing else though. He destroyed those memories when she caught him with skinny ass Melanie. That tooth picked thin woman that sashayed after him.

He lied though. Don’t most people when they are caught?

When he couldn’t convince her of his lies he actually played the victim. Can you believe it? He was such a loser.

She laughed.

Jake didn’t realize that he awoke a fire in her belly when they were together. The fire was real and strong. It consumed her. She became a warrior.

A warrior woman. Strong. Unstoppable.

Which is why she knew it was time to kick his lying ass to the curb. She grabbed her jacket and threw on those skin tight boyfriend jeggings and a crop top. She glossed her lips and sprayed her perfume. She looked in the mirror and realized that she looked good.

She didn’t need a Jake. She needed freedom. She needed to chase the moon. She sighed and packed up her things. Time to head out. She was going to drive with the moonlight leading her way and Nina Simone singing I Don’t Want Him Anymore.

No looking back now.








This post is part of the Daily Prompt. The word today was moon.

Last Night

Late night laughter filled the room

There was a shift in energy when you looked at me

My heart quickened as you leaned in to kiss me

It was surreal


Our friendship was changing and evolving into something unknown

I was captivated by the essence of you. You were different.

Strong. Silent. Unexpected.

I leaned in to feel your lips on mine and the experience was electric.

I was shocked and overwhelmed by all the sensations running through me.


I felt your lips down my neck and your hand explore my breasts and I lost it

I couldn’t contain my desire or the surge of having you.

You, I wanted you inside me.


But, you are no amateur to seduction.

You took your time exploring my body like a man dying of thirst

Each lick and suck was overwhelming me.

Your tongue had me speaking languages I never even studied


I was panting and squirming and moving so much you had to hold me down so you could feast

Feast at my center until I cringed and screamed your name in pleasure

You were unrelenting in your exploration and adoration of my body

I was reeling from multiple orgasms


I counted four, but I can’t seem to account for those five minutes where I swore I blacked out

You looked at me. You observed my face as you slowly slid the fullness of your manhood inside of me.

Expanding me in ways I didn’t even know existed

I cringed in pleasure and pain and began to move with you in rhythm

Wanting and waiting for you to elevate me spiritually with another melodic burst of pleasure


You did. I couldn’t stop shaking.

I smiled. You tenderly kissed me. My nose. My eyes. My lips and I knew.

I never wanted that feeling to end.


© Tikeetha Thomas


“My husband and I are divorcing” I blurted out.  Everyone looked at me with shocked and stunned expressions. We were at a new tapas restaurant having our monthly girl get together. Six sets of eyes stared at me. I waited. The silence was deafening. I cleared my throat and took a sip of my white wine and continued to wait. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for someone, anyone, to speak.

My girlfriend Hope was the first to respond. She replied “Wow, as long as you’re okay. I’m here for you.” I needed that. I needed to hear her support of my decision. Not acceptance. That’s different. Support is only seven letters and takes less effort than acceptance of my decision. Just support. They could do that right? Support was a requirement of friendship. Support was needed if I was planning to get through the next few years alone.

I smiled and knew that in the end my girls would be there, but when Alex asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean…it’s hard out here for single women and you don’t want to be alone.” I paused and replied boldly with determination, “I’m sure Alex. I didn’t make this decision lightly and my marriage is over. Irrepealably broken was what my ex said, so I’m sure.” Alex continued in what felt like a cross examination, “I mean, I get it. People have problems, but can’t you work through them? I was married before and I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. My ex-husband loved my dirty drawers, but I was too selfish. I didn’t know it at the time.”

My heart felt heavy. My cheeks started to flush as I sat there thinking about a response. Was I sure? Was I being selfish? I mean my ex was enough. He was nice enough. Attractive enough. Smart enough. He was enough, but was enough for me?

No, it wasn’t. I wanted more than enough. Hope intervened and said, “Look, I could tell something was bothering you last month on our girl’s trip. You seemed despondent and withdrawn. Did you know last month?” I was startled by her observation of me. Was I that transparent? What is wrong with these women? I wiped my mouth and said “Yes, I haven’t been happy for years. I’ve forced myself to smile when the weight of the world has been on my shoulders. I’ve forced down my tears when I felt unloved and alone. I’ve forced back my anger when he called me out my name. I’ve had enough. He’s enough, but enough isn’t good enough for me.”

There was the silence again. That uncomfortable pause that had me grasping for anything to fill the deafening sound of nothing in my ears. I sat back and said, “Ladies, there is much about my marriage that you don’t know. I kept it inside. Buried it and decided to grin and bear it for my family for my friends and for him. I deserve better. I don’t hate him. I will always love him, but you know what? I love me more.” I looked around the table and saw them for the first time. I saw what they were not telling me…I’m afraid of you being by yourself. Being with someone or anyone is better than being alone. Can’t you fix it?

I couldn’t believe it. I felt defeated until I looked at Hope and saw something else. She had something different in her eyes. She had a spark. A light. Just like her name, I saw hope. I smiled. She reached across the table and grabbed my hand and said, “Sweetie, I got you. I support you and I love you. Never forget that.” I laughed and with tears in my eyes I said, “I love you ladies and I thank you for being here because I’m scared like hell.” Everyone burst out laughing and I knew that my sisters loved me and would never leave me alone. I was going to be okay because I was more than enough.

© Tikeetha Thomas

By Faith (Part Two)

So, I guess I’m pretty good at this short story thing? Huh? I don’t know. It’s so weird. I was honored when so many women said that they loved the story and could relate to it. They felt as though I was writing their situation. I was awed and overwhelmed.

As one friend said to me yesterday, “You have God’s favor all over you.” I was honored and humbled by that. That being said, so many women wanted to know what happened to Faith and Teddy in my story that I decided to make this my first novel. A short story where I will give you all the information about Faith and Teddy.

Here’s my first addition. The prequel to their story from Teddy’s point of view. Please check it out and let me know what you think.

You can find it here:  By Faith