50 shades of shade.

Blog Episode 15

 

Blindfolded. Hands cuffed behind her back. Penis in Jalyssa’s mouth. The chocolate syrup taste satisfies her taste buds. She fights her gag reflex. Standing in front while she’s on her knees, he massages her nipples then slaps her butt. This is beyond pain and pleasure. Jalyssa is swallowing all the juices his body owns. Never has a fantasy sucked the reality out of you. Her sexual gladiator is 6 foot tall with eleven long inches. He wants her to cum first. She’s on her third…he just doesn’t know. His next move…is his best move.

 

Effortlessly picking up his sex slave, he throws her on the bed. With legs and feet dangling off the edge, he grabs each butt cheek with his huge hands. Determined to make her scream each climax, his penis digs inside of her. Whatever walls she’s had before, they don’t exist anymore. There is no caution for safety, he’s digging. If there were gold, his penis would have found it. She yells, “It feels so good!” then “Give it to me, daddy!” No permission was needed…

 

Now on her side, obeying his instructions, he begins the sideways pile driver. Gripping her waist, he gets every inch into her. Each long slow stroke brings her out of a fantasy and into reality. This man is relentless in pleasing her. She yelps. He smirks. The G-spot is found and he knows it.  Wildly, he speeds up. Imprints of his fingers are left on her buttocks. She finally, with eyes rolling back, screams, “I’m coming!” Without missing a beat, he puts his penis in her mouth and a vibrator in her vagina. They cum together. She’s left drinking each kid out of him and he smiles at his work. To put on the finishing touches, he dances and caresses his tongue around her clitoris until she begs him to…stop.  Don’t call this love, this is lust. What she wants and believes she needs.  Collapsed on the bed. She feels paralyzed. The only image seen before her sleep is him getting dressed. With pants and shirt on, he leaves…forever.

 

For weeks she calls, he doesn’t answer. Texts aren’t returned. He blocks her off Facebook. Stops following her on Twitter. What was reality now seems fiction. This man is now ghost. She’s broken. Confused. Can’t understand why he left. He was sweet. They met; he seemed to be everything she dreamed of. A smart, attractive, career man who knows what he wants. A leader.  What he represented was what she deserved to see. Yet, he didn’t earn her body. How can you in only three days? Sex came. Then he left. Two months later she sees him in the mall. On her way to confront, he notices her and smiles. Then turns his back to her. It was as if he said…in just one smile, “You know what this is.” She did…a one-night stand.

 

We get what we accept. Sadly, we act as if discounting our worth will ever be “right.” It’s never “right.” You are not on sale. You are not charity. You are not worthy of being someone’s, “Who I had sex with but didn’t earn.” Your value cannot be negotiated. No matter what I write, the choice of being a one-night stand is all yours to make. If you don’t think you deserve more. If you don’t think you should be earned. If you don’t think any of this…then who will? Choice.

 

Tune in next Thursday and every Thursday for another episode of 3 Naked Women.

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                                                 “Miscarriage or Abortion”
                                                                    Blog 14
 
Six months after being raped...she sits alone. Friends crowd around her but...she sits alone. Reporters still camp outside her home but she…she sits alone. Everyone is talking to her. Giving condolences. Asking questions. Attempting to soothe her mind for the war she has to endure. No words are heard. Only one dehumanizing thought plagues her mind. She’s pregnant with a dead man’s baby and she doesn’t want the baby to live.
 
No one knows her plans of self inflicted abortion. You see, she’s too famous to visit a clinic. They would easily recognize the rape victim of the most famous pastor in Atlanta. Her name is more popular than any House Wife you can ponder. No matter the fact, she loses sleep thinking about being a mother. A mother to a child that is only a reminder of her poor decision-making. She never wanted to be a single mother.  She refuses to add another name to that tradition. Especially knowing if the baby looks like the pastor, not only will he haunt her…but the child will live knowing their father was a murderer and rapist. If Jalyssa doesn’t tell them…the world will. This baby will die. Her mind is set. The only thing that’s slowing her down…is the how.
 
Tanya and Sandra are two of the voices she doesn’t hear. A baby shower was thrown only to have Jalyssa not attend. Their calls aren’t returned. Even when Tanya was told she might have breast cancer, Jalyssa didn’t bother to pray or visit the hospital. Something which is beyond odd given Jalyssa had her own scare once before and was adamant about the women having regular mammograms. Sandra is dealing with her own baby issues. She fights the idea of having a good man but relishes in continuously indulging in men who only have…good moments. Jalyssa would be the one to slap her back into reality. Not this time. No matter the drama surrounding Jalyssa, she’s a woman on a mission.
 
Back in the old days…, which really aren’t that old, women used coat hangers to abort babies. Many of these procedures were botched. Many women hurt or permanently scarred themselves courtesy of inaccuracy. Many babies lived with a mother who didn’t want them there…and tried to kill them. She was about to become one of those mothers. Standing at the top of her stairs with a coat hanger in hand and confusion in mind, she started to dig. Digging forcefully to ensure this baby won’t make it. The pain grew. Her screams scared nightmares out of nearby children. She accidentally slipped on the blood and fell down two flights of stairs. Jalyssa escaped with a broken leg and…coat hanger embedded in her belly. The baby is no more but that doesn’t mean the baby is done with her.

Abortion isn’t an ending to a woman’s sorrows. As statistics and history tells it, abortion isn’t over because the baby is dead. You have to live with that mental scar. The reminder of your decision. The act you will forever own. When or if you are ever challenged to make that decision, remember this…you could have been that baby. You make the choice.
 
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Drunk In Love: Raped Sober
Blog 13
 
No one is moving. He holds the gun steady. She stares into his eyes. Everyone is waiting. Why is he hesitating? What is holding him back from pulling the trigger? Does he really hate Jalyssa or is he coming to terms with his own irresponsibility? Whatever the reason, it seems Silence must be paying the mortgage and is forcing every to mimic him. However, something unexpected just evicted Silence.
 
There is a knock on the door. “This is the police. Is anyone hurt?” Now Pastor Baptiste is shook. He tells Jalyssa, “Don’t say anything! Wait…tell them you’re okay!” She yells, “He’s in here with a gun! Please help!” Frantic and confused he says, “WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU DISOBEY ME??! I should kill you!” Jalyssa says, “Why don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here? You want to kill me? Your “bitch.” Do it. Do it!” He is startled. The dreamlike high of the drugs is wearing off and he’s living in reality. The police invade the house through the damaged garage. They make their way up the stairs. They yell, “We’re coming up.” Jalyssa prepares them, “He has a gun!” Now Pastor Baptiste has little options left. He knows killing Jalyssa won’t happen. He knows a shoot out with the police isn’t happening. He knows what he has to do…
 
Gun pressed against his temple, he tells the police, “I’ll do it. I promise I will. I’ll leave this earth as the way I came.” He begins to strip naked. The police only watch in confusion. The negotiator attempts to encourage him from any rash decisions. Bare-naked, Pastor Baptiste finishes his words, “I came out of my mothers womb a naked sinner and I’m going to die a naked sinner.” The negotiator realizes his chances of changing Pastor Baptiste’s mind are slim. He asks for Jalyssa and the Pastor replies, “You can take her....” As Jalyssa leaves the room towards the arms of police, Pastor Baptiste says, “Can I pray with you once more?” His eyes were as sincere as a new born. It was as if he was saying “goodbye” in just that one sentence. She agreed and without a second thought, backed away from the police. She was still a slave to him. Now she is heading to their “Pray place” or as we call it, “bathroom.” Pastor Baptiste kept the gun to his head and walked to the bathroom with her. As he followed her, the negotiator kept attempting to discourage her actions. The Pastor passed by and notices an old fun tool of theirs, handcuffs. She notices them too, smiles. He grabs them, grabs her and closes the bathroom door.
 
It’s too late for the police. They won’t risk breaking through the door and him killing her or one of the police accidentally shooting a hostage. Inside, he spins her around, locks her hands behind her back, places the cuffs on her, pulls down her pajamas and rips his pants off then begins the most forceful and ferocious thrusts imaginable. As the blood drips down her legs, her screams are heard throughout the house. Still, the negotiator can only talk. The Pastor tells her, “I know you’re fertile today. See, I remember EVERYTHING about you. There will be some of me inside you for the rest of your life. You will always remember what you did to me.” At that very moment, he cums and pulls the trigger. As Richard Pryor would tell it..."He came and went at the same time." The police burst through the door to see Pastor Baptiste dead. Curled up with her hands behind her back, tears won’t even leave her eyes. She’s lost for words. This moment. His words. Jalyssa will never be the same again.
 
This ending may seem extreme but please remember reality…is even more real. There are many women who die at the hands of past lovers. A mistress is nothing more than a man’s sexual fantasy he lives daily. Nothing more. When that fantasy causes any form of destruction in his reality, he reacts. Either the wife or husband kills countless mistresses. This isn’t anything new. The most important statistic is this…you have a choice in what you will be. If I were you…I would choose wife.

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Called Her Bitch For The First Time


Blog 12


 
His son stares blankly into the barrel of the .45. Hiding prayers in his broken heart amiss the pool of blood his mother is drowning in. No sound is louder than the silence clouding the room. The beating heart of a rat can burst the eardrums of everyone in attendance. It is just that quiet. Pastor Baptiste is too high, angry and filled with hate to not consider ending the innocence of his children. Time slows down. Every breath takes seconds to occur. The moment is near. The very lives of these children change in less than an eye blink. He pulls the trigger. No one reacts. Only a click is heard…No shot. He remembers what he forgot. Since he bought the gun…he only loaded one bullet and never made time to load the rest. God answered the desperate prayer of a child.
 



Simultaneously the Pastor vomits on himself while running to his truck. Only destination on his cocaine-loaded mind was a familiar one…Jalyssa’s house. He’s driving in the dead of night. No cars are on the road, yet he manages to run into a few parked ones. His sturdy Ford F-150 pick-up truck is able to take the damage and keep trucking. Tears and cuss words would seem to fit as a song title for his current phase. The God fearing pastor we’ve come to know is no more. This brother is now a man of revenge, regret and irresponsibility. He instantly blames his entire downfall on Jalyssa. Uttering, “It had to be her. When I began that affair as revenge, I gave way to more devils. Of course it is her fault. Who else could be to blame for my actions?” Sarcasm much like common sense evades him.
 



Judgment completely off, he crashes into Jalyssa’s garage. Airbag deployment knocks him out. The BOOM is heard around the typically quiet neighborhood. Police are called. Jalyssa, the amazingly heavy sleeper, hears none of the nonsense beneath her. Pastor Baptiste wakes up. Grabs the bullets out of his glove compartment. Refusing to make the same mistake twice. Climbs out of his wrecked pick up truck. Kisses the hood. He knows it’s been good to him and he will never drive it again. Opens the door inside the garage that leads to Jalyssa’s kitchen. Now marching up the stairs, he stumbles down courtesy of the alcohol stealing his balance. Still sleeping, she hears none of the racket he makes walking up the stairs. He drops some of the bullets as he makes way to her room. Fumbling, he finds a way to get all six rounds into the gun. Oddly, the familiar words “Daddys home” wake her up. She’s startled. Now she too stares blankly into the barrel of a .45.




“Bitch, you…you…you are the devil. I and...I’m coming to get my life back. The life you stole the moment you opened hell’s gate. You ruined my life! Now, I take it back. All of it.” She would plead for her life…but doesn’t bother to. The greatest hurt she could ever imagine came. He called her a “bitch.” Never did she expect the man her heart gave so much to…to spew such filth. Heart broken, she knew the pain of his words would outweigh any suffering she would endure from a bullet. He continues, “You don’t got nothing to say? Cat got your tongue, Jezebel? Now it is your turn to feel the emptiness of God no longer speaking to you. The despair accom…accompanied by His abandonment. Say something!” She obliges, “I loved you. I wanted more from you. Being your “other woman” was me settling. I was sick. Your love was my temporary drug. I thought it would be a cure. It was just a treatment. I needed to find my own way. My own husband. My own family. When I left you, I left the one version of me God loved by default. Now I’m worth loving entirely. I forgave myself for my disobedience and asked God to as well. You can take my life. I know where I’m going. Death isn’t a fear of mine.” She closes her eyes. His eyes turn red. She takes a deep breath. He cocks back the gun hammer. She says a prayer. He aims at her head. She says, "Amen." He…
 





When God blessed you to see 18, He also gave you a title, "Adult". You now are completely in charge of your actions. Coincidently, you are now the total recipient of the blame. It is funny how saying, “I’m wrong” takes courage. We live in a world where being a responsible adult is about as desirable as being a hundredaire. Until time travel is possible, growing up is unavoidable. However, it seems many of us dodge becoming…grown. Do yourself a favor, own up to the decisions you make. You live with them. No matter who they involve. When you do so, you give yourself a gift. What is that? The gift of adulthood.
 
 



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The End of Pastor Baptiste
        Part 11

“Who’s this baby from this time?” He asks with a sarcastic grin. She doesn’t respond. There is nothing she can say, do or think to avoid the end. Fed up isn’t what he is. Broken is past tense. Shattered beyond repair fits the description best. Pastor Baptiste sits on his bed, eyes filled with lonely tears. His wife stands in the corner, awaiting the decision.

Laughter fills the room. This unexpected sound frightens her. It goes from awkward to angry. His tone becomes unsettling. A thickness of fear blanketed the room. “Get out you devil. You’re the freaking devil. That’s what you are. Get out of my house SATAN!” Wanting to salvage the romance, she used the children as leverage. “What…how will our children live happily if we’re divorced? Don’t do this. Let’s figure out a way. I’m sorry.” Her words cut him. Herpes, losing Jalyssa and being exposed by Tanya, he had already lost the “it” he owned. With the new addition of cocaine to his diet, things weren’t getting better. He runs into the bathroom. The story changes.

You can hear the aggressive snorts, the loud crying and the apology to God miles from outside the bathroom. He was readying himself. Mrs. Baptiste calls for the children. They all enter the room. As a comfort/guilt shield, she hoped the image of them would inspire a second…fifth chance. As he walked out of the bathroom his glazed eyes, unsteady posture and alcohol stained breath clouded the attention of the room. The words, “I’m sorry” were consistently mumbled out of his drunken mouth and the cocaine influenced a move pastors don’t make.

Door locks. The family stares silently. Dresser drawer opens. His hand lurks into the drawer. He asks her… “Why me? I provide. I take care of the children. I’m the man you prayed for. Why me?” Reluctantly yet instinctively she responds, “Maybe you’re the man I prayed for but maybe I’m not the woman you prayed for.” She continues, “I never deserved a man like you. Men like you…they deserve love. Happiness. I’ve been trouble since you knew me. You tried to save me. I told you…I told you I wasn’t ready for you. That didn’t stop you. This marriage was your idea. I wanted time to learn me. These children. They weren’t my decision. I’m rebelling. That’s the only answer to this. I love you but we have to seek counseling or I go away for a while. Maybe to a place where I can get all this…badness out of me. I don’t know. I just need time to get my act together. I’m sorry I ruined you. I just don’t know what else to say.” His hand slowly pulls up a ball of socks. He unrolls them to reveal a .45. The children and wife are so frightened, they don’t even scream. No prayers are said. Everyone is waiting for the Pastor Baptiste to move. The barrel of the .45 finds its way to Mrs. Baptiste’s chest. A slight move to the left of her chest. With his target locked, he pulls the trigger.

One shot…through the heart. The children are too afraid to cry. Tears escape down their noses as they stare at their inanimate mothers' body.

He points the .45 in the children’s direction. The story isn’t fun anymore...

If you pray for something, wait until God finishes the product before you invest in it. Many times we’re in such a rush to love the shiny new person who makes us smile, we forget to be earned by them. When someone is learning who they are, don’t waste time trying to love them as is. Love them as who they become when they’re done growing. Otherwise when they are done…you may not be what they love.

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Being Separated Isn’t Divorced.

                                                                                                                                                  Part 10

“Choke me daddy!” he obliges. They roll, sweat and wrestle until there are no pillows or sheets left on the bed. Now the room is their canvas. Now their bodies are their paint brushes. Now chairs, doors and dressers are innocent casualties of their lust. He’s giving it and she’s taking it. What started as a moment of prayer took them for an unholy ride. He had his sights on her since the, “Love Is Not An STD” workshop. She knew something was special about him. From their knees to their backs, they are feeling what’s special about each other. Tanya is sleeping with Pastor Baptiste.

She gave up her life as a prostitute and sought refuge in a nearby mega church. Once she noticed the pastor, she made it her duty to create a relationship. Her hope was sincere. Aiming to find a spiritual father who would teach her how to Be Loved Right. Giving way to an understanding of Christ. She was invited over for Holy Bible study. Enjoyed many days and nights learning about God’s love. Then she fell.

He was consistent. His constant complaints about his wife and how much he hates her. His constant indirect statements about where he would be if he wasn’t stuck with these children. His constant reminding of needing a supportive, loving and dedicated woman on his side. All kept her trapped in a ball of “what if’s” He was good at inspiring confusion. She felt sorry for him. She consoled him in his weakness. She began to feel his vulnerability. Lost as to how loving him would work…she tried using the only power she thought she had. Trying to rescue a broken man using vagina is a failed plan before execution. Tanya tried anyway. Day after day giving her body to him as a token for his healing. He would tell tales of being separated from his wife but little did he know, it didn’t matter to Tanya.

She just enjoyed having a stable partner. It fed her desire to be desired and without money exchanged, she didn’t own the pain of being a prostitute. She was guilt free. Unlike Jalyssa, Tanya knows the game. After months of sex, she suddenly stopped seeing him. She never delivered an “I love you” to him, as he’s often said to her. She never trusted him so his, “Let’s do it raw” requests were always denied. She never wanted more than an exclusive sex partner and by his slipping of calling her by another name, she knew he wasn’t that. Never did she expect to be his future wife. Nor did she care to be. 


She left him with a simple text. “Go home to your wife and kids. Be a husband and father.” Leaving the pastor didn’t mean Tanya give up on God. She knew her progress wouldn’t be forgotten because of her sexual regression. On her bed, she prays, “Celibacy until You find a husband for me.” A jovial smile breaks through her prayer. The challenge is set. The challenge is sex. Will she keep her promise or press reset?

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How To Turn A Good Woman Bad. 

Part 9


“Bitch, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Think I’m stupid. You’re cheating on me, huh? Think I won’t kill you? I would! Let me find out you’ve been with another dude. I’ll murder him in front of you then murder you. Do you hear me?!” Sandra stares at Ricardo. His words have lost their venom. She’s now immune to his threats. She doesn’t even flinch at his feints. She’s as calm as a sea breeze. This silent protest of confidence is irking and confusing Ricardo. 


She replies, “Please kill me. I’ve killed too many babies to keep a love you’ve never given me. I’m the murderer. Can’t I teach you how to kill? I don’t deserve to live. Not now, not with what I’ve done. If you want to help me see God faster, I suggest you do it and do it fast. Your threats aren’t worth much.” Enraged and embarrassed, he slaps her. Bloods seeps out of her top lip and a smirk slips out. “Is that it?” She says. Now he’s confused and backs away. It’s been seven months since he’s seen Sandra. Choosing to bunk with Jalyssa instead of Ricardo. Her attendance was too abrupt. He was unprepared for her arrival. One of his other women was still sleep in bed, drunk and naked. Sandra walked past him to collect her things. Moves his other woman over to take the pillowcases she bought. Heads for the door. He catches her.


“Wait, where are you going now? I’m not through with you.” As classic, cliché and traditional as her words were, her actions followed suit. She responds, “You may not be through with me…but I’m through with you.” Leaving behind the scars of multiple abortions, black eyes and a bruised spirit. She knew the love she hoped to have would never arrive from him. Rubbing her belly, the new pudge isn’t from her nonexistent diet. A chance meeting with an old friend resulted in a one-night stand. The consequence is another chance. A baby unplanned but wanted. 


The father of her child, Drake is a good man but she couldn’t adjust to him. He wasn’t aggressive, controlling or what she was used to. He called too much. He was too nice. He opened doors and wanted to know if she was okay…daily. This wasn’t Ricardo. This wasn’t a man who could beat her face blue. This wasn’t a man that never said, “I love you.” This was a man. A man who doesn’t even know she’s pregnant but would probably take care of her and the child. A man with a career. A God-fearing man who owns up to his mistakes and responsibilities. Whatever he is…he is too much of it. She cheats on him with other men who resemble Ricardo. None love her. None treat her like Drake. None even care to hide their flaws. She just believes a good man isn’t what she’s worthy of. She prayed for a good man. Even so, to her,” Too good to be true” is only for fairytales…or women who deserve it. 


God isn’t dead. He’s still able to give up treasures with little flaw. Just because we’ve dealt with people who are horrible enough to be real doesn’t mean He can’t give us someone who is too good to be true. If you pray for it, He will deliver it. If you pray for a car but you don’t know how to drive, God will still send that car. The only question I ask you, my dear reader…when He delivers it…will you accept it and learn how to drive it or inspect to reject it and keep riding the comfortable bus? You own the choice in how you deal with God’s gift. He’s going to answer your prayers…so either take what you’ve asked for…or don’t ask for it. 


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Retired Mistress

Part 8


243 missed calls, 47 unread texts and 33 unopened voicemails separated her from the pastor. Jalyssa had to think. She needed time. Opening her legs for a married man wasn’t part of her agenda. At least not now. Not today. Not after visiting the workshop, “Love Is Not An STD.” She knew she was worth more than she was selling herself. No more discounts. No more bargains. No more negotiating her body to accommodate consumers who wouldn’t pay full price or keep the product exclusively. She made a choice.


She responds. “Go to your wife. Give her your herpes. I won’t play co-captain to your heart any longer.” She blocked his number and didn’t read his replies. Already aware of his antics, she was well versed on his, “I’m leaving her soon”, and “I only stay because of the children.” Or “I’m miserable with her and without you.” Jalyssa was worth too much more and stopped a cycle many women live. She made a choice. 


His sex was an anchor to her heart. It was as if each stroke dug her deeper into this fantasy of one day being Mrs. Baptiste. Realizing she wasn’t the only mistress, he was still having sex with his wife and now owns an STD; there were only memories of penetration that danced in her mind. It wasn’t enough to make her revisit the tradition of sex for hope. Being an option is reserved for women who don’t realize they deserve priority. She made a choice. 


Opening her legs to someone with a closed heart is just a game. Most married men master the arts of confusion, manipulation and hypnotism. Carefully squeezing in reasons to believe in a couple more days, he’ll be all yours. He’ll give all he’s promised. He’ll throw away a woman he’s earned, a family he’s earned, a life he’s earned for you. She knew it didn’t make sense. She now knew it wasn’t worth it. Why would a man give up his life for someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to wait until he’s divorced? This question owned space in her mind. She made a choice. 


Never to date another married man. Never to accept, “We’re separated” as an open door for hope. Never to play option to a man’s desires. Her decision to walk back into God’s grace won’t be a short journey. It will take a million steps to become what she knows is what she deserves. However long the path. However long the passage. However long it takes…she at least started walking. I hope you do as she’s done. She made a choice. 




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Naked in Church.

Part 7


No smiles, only sad memories raped their faces. As people began to greet them, as customary in church, these three women could only toss fake grins. Outside, they appeared to be the model Christians. All three were beautiful, healthy looking and seemingly confident in stride. If they could only look inside them. Their deceived, damaged and defiled hearts pumped purple poisoned blood. Yet, like painting an eagle white and calling it a dove, only so many could be fooled by their masks. You see, in church sometimes some people can see through your veil and peer into your soul. Leaving you bare with just one intrusive inquisition, “Did you know God still loves you?”


Two members approached all three with that question. Tears fell from their eyes and covered their young necks. No noise was heard. It was as if no one but these two elderly people knew their pain. They’ve lied to one another for so long, the denial kept their secrets as a personal diary written on their hearts. With a group hug and a whisper of, “We will get you right today” the burst of weeping began uncontrollably. They were completely exposed. Falling into the arms of two strangers hoping they’ll catch more than just their bodies…but the problems they faced. As the three women unsuccessfully attempted to compose themselves, the Master of Ceremonies, who was heading to introduce the speaker, accidentally bumped into them. Immediately Jalyssa recognized the man as Pastor Baptiste. Immediately he acted as a stranger to her. Unable to keep up the façade, she backed away with an accusing glare that pierced his soul. He continued his great Academy Award winning performance by apologizing, excusing himself and walked to the podium to introduce the keynote, Mr. Devin T. Robinson X “Egypt”. 


Seated, Tanya and Sandra rested their tear-depleted heads on Jalyssa’s shoulders. Surprised by the pastor’s attendance, all Jalyssa could do is stare at him. Her anger grew as the crowd laughed at each of his jokes and women began to whispered indecent comments about his looks. As the keynote touched the stage, a breeze took her attention. Something touched her. Someone touched her. Something or someone touched them all. The other two women looked around to find who grazed them. Confused, they asked each other if they touched one another. All answered, “No, I didn’t touch any of you.” With no one behind them, they felt their pain evaporate into laughing gas as each suddenly gave out an awkward belch of happiness. It was odd. They didn’t understand this feeling. Whatever this was, it evaded them for so long it was foreign. The feeling was called, “Joy.” No longer burdened by the pain they shared, it was as if something erased it for the moment. As if the hurt left so they could take in this moment. Then…the speaker began to speak. 



“I prayed God would deliver a h