12 Days of Christmas



     It happened so fast.

     We were just singing along to Boyz to Men Let it Snow… then BAM!

     It happened so fast.

     “Shit, shit, shit!”

     I stomped at the brake, the car sped up on the slicken icy road.


      Speeding scenery whist past my eyes as the car spun out of control.

     My body rebound from the steering wheel, the door and slammed me back into my seat.

     “Lord! Jesus,” I heard my husband yell.

     Clasping my sweaty hand tightly on the steering wheel, I tried to unsuccessfully steer us away from the medium.


     “Jesus! Please!”


     We ricocheted to the opposite side of the expressway.

     My breathing quickens in shallow puffs.


      The sound of a window shattering.

     “Oh God! Oh God!”

     Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the car flipped once, landing on its roof and colliding into a lamppost.         

     Muffled sounds of footsteps, a warm hand on my face and a comforting voice faded deep in the abyss.

     I am dying.

     My body was stiff.

     I tried to listen for some movement from my husband and my son.

     I wanted to yell out their names.

     I felt cold.

     I am dying.

     I felt a tug and a pull.

     I saw light.

     I heard a thump.

     Everything went black…I died



Vodka… now Vodka does the trick. It makes me numb, not feel, it made me think I could move forward with my plan for the tenth time. For the last ten years, on the anniversary day of OUR death, I prepare to take my rightful place beside my husband and my son.

 I do not deserve to live.

Painful sobs and flickers from the roaring fire place and my son’s favorite Christmas song, Let It Snow did nothing to console my unsettling spirit on the worst day of the year for me.

            November 30th, the day I died.

            My fingers wiped away my fallen tears on the picture frame that housed my crumbling heart, a picture of my deceased husband and son.

            “I killed them, I killed them,” I howled from my soul as I threw back my fifth shot of Vodka.

            Snow and ice covered the city but being New Yorkers, this was not a new situation for us.

After celebrating my son’s birthday, November 24 which fell on Thanksgiving Day, we struck out to return him back to college six days later. It was a joyous ride until I hit an icy patch and the car spun out of control.

            I killed them.

            “I miss you so much baby,” I whispered as I traced my son Tyrell’s face.

            Loneliness laced with guilt occupied my beating heart as I glanced down at the gun I placed on the table.

            “I don’t deserve to live!” I shouted as I stumbled from the couch, attempting to pace the floor.

            My eyes settled back on the gun.

            “Lord, Jesusss! Whyyyy! They deserve to be here! Not me! Not me!” I screamed, beating at my chest.

            Clutching my aching heart, I gasped for air. The tightness that lived in my chest had not allowed me to fill my lungs completely for the last ten years. I waddled in pain from the loss of my family. The guilt ridden, lonely, miserable shell of a woman I faced in the mirror each day, disgusted me.

            I killed them.

            I turned up the bottle and took a big swig of courage.

            I clumsily snatched the gun from the table.

            Finishing off the last of the bottle, I picked up the picture frame and rest it on my heart as I stood on wobbly drunken legs. Placing the gun to my head tears streamed down my face.

            I do not deserve to live.

I killed them.



            “No, no, no, no, please don’t do it!” I screamed.

            I grabbed for my phone. It slipped from my hand and slid under the couch.


            I been watching my neighbor going through it for an hour and a half. She paced back and forth, talking to herself as tears cascaded down her face, hugging and rocking herself and getting totally bent. My heart went out to her, I knew she had lost her family back some years ago and she never been the same since. I understood the pain of losing someone close to you.

Poor baby.

“Is that a gun?” I said almost forgetting that I had my limitations.

I moved closer to the window to get a better look.

            She cannot be serious.

            “Don’t do this! You have so much to live for!” I yelled, knowing it was impossible for her to hear me.

            I did my best to scoot the couch over, it was too heavy.

            I reached under the couch, but to no avail, I did not feel my phone.

            “Fuck! It must have slid farther then I thought,” I grumbled out of frustration.

            I started to panic, in desperation, I threw myself to the floor. Landing awkwardly on the floor, it still gave me a better chance to reach my phone. Using my arms, I scurried my 6’1”, 205 lbs. frame of muscle, closer to the couch.

            “Hold on Sweetheart, I’m going to get you some help, just hang in there!”

            I lifted, just able to peek over the window sill.

            “Shit, shit, shit!”
            She stood with the gun to her head.

            I started to sweat, anxiety was getting the best of me. Sweeping my out stretched arm under the couch I swiped it and knocked it further away.


            “Just hold on for me Baby girl, I got you.”

I pulled myself up in a sitting position to gaged how much time I had.

            She dropped to the floor.



            The sun shone directly on my face, even with closed eyes I knew it was bright. I knew to open them would feel like I fell in the pits of hell. An elephant stood on my head, at least that is how it felt. Cotton mouth, my tongue felt like a chunky sweater. As reluctant as I was I raised my head, a bass drum boomed in my brain. Too heavy to maintain, it flopped down in its original position. A putrid smell infiltrated my nose that cause my stomach to rise in my throat. Without hesitation I rushed to my feet and staggered to the rest room. I prayed to the porcelain God as my inner contents spewed into the toilet.

            I felt awful.

            Dragging myself to stand, I dreaded my reflection. I was horrified as I ran my hands through my matted slimy hair finding the cause of the rancid odor. Clunks of digested steak and potatoes mixed with regurgitated Vodka permeated the air. A mucky substance covered the side of my face as well as last night’s clothes.

Looking into bloodshot eyes, they glazed over in tears. My heart pumped misery, loneliness and guilt through my veins.

I remembered.

The gun.

The dizziness.

I passed out.


  Running through the streets of Manhattan, ducking and dodging rude taxi drivers, homeless bum laying lackadaisically on the sidewalk and the hustle and bustle of New York City, I had 10 minutes before I would be officially late.

  I returned to my hum drum miserable life after I woke up in my own vomit smelling like a liquor distillery.

  Huffing and puffing as I entered the building. I stabbed at the buttons of the elevator.

  Eight minutes, I counted down, watching the elevator’s number light up after every passing floor.


  A rush of traffic pushed me back as I thrust my body forward, refusing to lose my rightful place on this car, not to be force on the next one. I rocked foot to foot as the elevator stopped at every damn floor letting out “Johnny come lately” employees just like me.

  Only I would have had a gun to my head only twelve hours ago, wake up in my own puke and then worry about being late for my little filing clerk job.

I clocked in with a minute and a half to boot, just enough time to grab a cup of coffee. I greeted my coworkers with my phony smile, trying to appear to be as normal as possible, but little did they know how close every year at this time I was one conversation away from being the talk around the water cooler.

I cannot wait till this day is over, so I can run back to my shell of a life, slip under my quilt and cry myself to sleep with yet another bottle of Vodka.



A door slammed in the distance, stirring me from my sleep. My out stretched arm still held its position under the couch, my legs still awkwardly bent.

Pushing myself up on my elbows the memories from last night played in my mind, sadness etched my face. I heard the familiar tapping of high heels clicking on the side walk.


It is her.

I low crawled to the chair and holstered myself up as quickly as I could. I captured a glimpse of her voluptuous backside as she bent to get in the cab.

I would know that ass anywhere.

I had been watching the swing in those hips for ten years.

My heart jumped for joy.

“She’s alive! She is alive!

I turned in circles in excitement.

“Mr. Billings is everything O.K.?” Margie questioned as she peered around my disheveled living room.

I was caught red handed acting like a kid that was let loose in a candy store.

“Now only is everything O.K., everything is absolutely perfect,” I said grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Is this your phone? How the hell did it get all the way over here?” she questioned as she handed it to me.

Ignoring her question, I concentrated more on an ad on my phone.

“Tell her how you feel with Passion Growers,” I whispered.

Yes! For the 12 days till Christmas I am going to do my best to make her love life again.

“Margie, I’m going to need your help with something.”

“Yes sir,” Margie said from the kitchen.



          The coldness beat across my face as I shuffled through the light mist of snow on the ground. I decided to walk the couple of blocks from the train station to prolong my usual miserable fate of entering my lonely existence again.

            I hate holidays.

            A man tilted his hat and smiled as he passed. My cheeks grew warm. I missed the attention of a man, the warmth of a body and the giddy feeling of love. My guilt tugged at my heart as I glanced up at the sky in shame.

Stopping at the mail box at the end of the street, shuffling through bills, junk mail and emotionless Christmas cards from companies that you pay all year around for their services, I entered my close-in porch. An air of frustration escaped my frozen lips as I unlock my prison of loneliness, pulling the door shut, I saw what appeared to be some flowers.

“This has to be a mistake,” I said to no one.

Carrying them into the house I used my foot to kick closed the door.

Examining the outer wrapper, I apprehensively fingered the card.

There is no way these were for me, it would be great if they were though.

My heart longed for something beautiful to show up in my life, I bit my bottom lip as I looked around suspiciously. Pretending that this was the norm for me, I pulled apart the wrapping.


Twelve beautiful green roses displayed before my eyes.

The outer envelope read,

Green Roses: Green is the color of life, abundant, growth and constant renewal of life and energy. Constant rejuvenation of spirit.

I sniffed their fragrance and I opened the card.

Flowers are to be enjoyed, as well as life.





She carefully clipped at the lower stem, arranging the flower meticulously in the vase.

The love and care she gave each flower solidified my decision to bring purpose to her life. I watched her for hours, leaning in to smell the roses, her fingertips touched each one. She sipped what appeared to be white wine, staring at them as though they would get up and walk away.

Leaning back on the couch I heard my email notification ping.

My heart sped up a little when I saw her email: Rosecummings@gmail.com.

R.C.: Thanks for the flowers, they are beautiful. They could not have come at a better time. But why me?

WB:  Why not you Beautiful? You bring as much beauty to this world as those roses.

A rose for a Rose.

R.C.: How do you know I am beautiful; do we know each other?

WB: I have seen you around enough to know your just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. Enjoy your roses Pretty Lady, Goodnight.



I thought about my beautiful roses the whole day at work, I felt lighter today then I have in years.

Why not you, Beautiful?

“Yeah, why not me,” I mumbled under my breath’

You killed them.

The guilt tugged at my heart.

I shook it off and continued my day.

Once again, I entered my closed porch and another bouquet of roses set in the corner…yellow.

I picked them up and read the small envelope:

Yellow: Bright cheerful and joyful. Warm feelings and happiness.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips, I blushed like a school girl. Looking around in embarrassment I rushed in the house to unwrap my present. Twelve yellow roses brighten the whole dining room as well as my spirits. I place them adjacent from my Green ones, the color contrast was electric.

The card read...


Why not dare yourself to become a shining positive light where darkness is the only thing known? ~Edmond Mbiaka

Was it ok to be ok?

 As sadness slowly seeped into my pores my email notification dinged, pulling me back into the moment.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins, happiness bounced off my organs. My hands got clamming as I clicked on his email.

WB: Are you enjoying your roses, Sunshine?

Sunshine? How nerdy.

R.C.: Yes, I am, Mystery Man. Thank you, they are a breath of fresh air.

WB: Your happiness is thanks enough, Love.

R.C.: I would love to know who I am thanking.

WB: Do not concern yourself with who I am, this is about you and only you. Until tomorrow, good night Queen.


I did not want to expect roses every day, but I had to admit the anticipation of day three had me speed walking through the train station, excited to get home. Calming myself as I stepped in the brisk air, I convinced myself it would be ok if I did not have any today.

He does not owe me a thing.

I would be ok.

Yes, perfectly fine.

My feet moved at a pace that showed my true feelings. I braced myself for disappointment. Closing my eyes, I entered the porch, concentrating on slowing my breathing, I slowly peeked open one eye.

My heart jumped.

Yes, yes, yes!

I read the envelope as usual.

Pink roses: Pink, words of admiration, gentleness, grace, joy and sweetness.

I ripped open the paper, eager to feast my eyes on another exuberant shade.


The card read:

Your strength and courage are admirable, I know life can be bitter sweet, but you are the perfect example of grace and poise.

Humiliation came over me, I dropped on the couch.

If he only knew how close I have come to ending my own life for the past ten years. I have waddled in pain, pity and guilt and became a woman I was not proud of. Tears welled up in my eyes.

My notification dinged:

Hello, Sweetness. You are my shero!

I was so full of shame, this man thought I handle life with resilient and the truth of the matter was I was a wreck. I drank myself into a drunken stupor every night. I tried to end my life every November 30th for the last ten years.

I could not even respond. I placed the pink roses next to the green and yellow roses. I saunter to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a fifth of vodka and headed to my bedroom.


Anxiety set in as I watched the clock wine down. I doubt if my mystery man will shower me with affection today being that I did not have the courtesy to acknowledge him last night.

That was rude of me.

How could I be so stupid.

I grabbed my purse and forcibly exited the building. The train ride home was lack lustered. The sentiment I had for the last few days was gone.

I lost him.

Feeling drain and void of enthusiasm I opened my screen door, not even looking for my gift I have been receiving for the last couple of days. I unlocked my door, dropped my purse on the table and kicked off my heels. From my peripheral vision, I saw it.

My eyes drifted over to my left, my heart skipped a beat as a smile creased my lips.

He still likes me.

I tore the paper open right then and there… orange.

Orange roses: DESIRE

A tear slid down my cheek.

He desires me.

I immediately went to my email. I tried to stay in the moment.

No thoughts of Tyrone, no guilt. Just stay in the moment.

R.C.: I am sorry I did not thank you for the roses yesterday, I got caught up in my feelings. It is just, I do not know how to respond to you. I am afraid I may not be able to live up to your fantasy of me. That strong, well put together woman you think I am, I am not. I have my demons. Honestly, I have made my share of mistakes, an unimaginable mistake that I have not handled that well. I appreciate your kind gestures, but you might want to redirect your affections. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of happiness. I will forever appreciate you.

                        I clicked on sent.

                        I had to be honest.

                        I had to let him know I was a waste of his time.

            My desire to crawl back into the bottle was calling me but I resisted the pull it had over my sadden life. For the first time I wanted better, I did not want to be miserable anymore. I wanted to live my life, get out and about, have a companion and experience some happiness before I left this earth.

My notification dinged.

WB: We have all made mistakes, none of us is perfect. God have decided your fate and I am it. So, stop the nonsense. You are going to be mine, point, blank, period. I saved you once, I can do it again. Let all that negativity go Lovely, I need the best of you.

R.C.: God decided my fate? It sounds like you have. LOL O.K Mystery Man, be careful what you ask for, you might get it. Wait! Save me? I don’t know why I’m entertaining you, you won’t even reveal yourself. But I am going to play along because I am having fun.

WB: You will find out soon enough, but for now I am going to keep a smile on your face till Christmas. Good night, Desire.

            I felt so giddy, I was flirting.

            It felt so good.

            I felt alive.



         “Damn she’s fine!”

         Rose was a beautiful woman. She was 5’5”, about 155 lbs. and thickkkkk. She wore her hair in a short pixie cut and it drove me crazy when she laid it down like Halle Berry/Toni Braxton back in the day.

         I been watching her suffer in her depression for years but the day she put that gun to her head I knew I had to do something. I been waiting patiently, watching her, desiring her for over ten years, trying to give her time to get over her grief of the loss of her family. But now was the time, if not now…when?

         I had white roses delivered to her house as I awaited her return.

         Yea, white roses, symbolizing a new beginning.

         I have every intention of revealing myself, I think the perfect time would be on Christmas Day.

         I know all about Mrs. Cummings, I have been living across the street from her for over ten years. I also played a big part in her working in the firm’s mail room. I was there the day she applied for her job. She had been a stay at home mom for years until her husband and son was killed in a tragic accident. She had no skills and others qualified for the job, but I knew she needed it, a new beginning and a source of income so I put in a word for her.

         My restaurant was catering the food for their Annual Business Party and I knew the CEO personally. Ever since then I watched her from my window as she ate dinner alone, drank alone and cry her little eyes out.

         I saved her once, I will save her again.



I stood in the huge walk in closet, taking stock of what needed to be done. After receiving white roses from my admirer, he was right, it was time for a new beginning and I was determined to start my new year off right.

My eyes roamed over my husband’s side of the closet, everything was just as he left it.

You must let him go.

I always knew that it was not healthy to hold on to my past the way I did. I had been to plenty of therapist who advised that letting go of my pain, my guilt, my husband was necessary to continue with my life, and to start, I needed to get rid of his things, but I was not ready.

I am still not ready.

I slowly slipped a suit jacket off the hanger, pulling it close to my nose, I inhaled his scent. A tear fell on the fabric and was quickly absorbed.

“I’m sorry baby, I have to let you go. I can’t continue to live like this,” I cried as I slowly started to peel away my past with every removal of his existence.

“I love you and I always will.”

Surprisingly with every suit, shirt, shoes and tie, I felt a weight being lifted from my being.

Looking at his clothes neatly folded on the bed, I laid across them and had a good old fashion ugly cry.



My email alert went off.


I felt around on the bed for my phone, then I remembered I left it in the living room last night. I pulled myself from my bed, I had not even realized I had fallen asleep.

Walking in a slow slumber, I stretched my stiff muscles due to the awkward position I cried myself asleep in. Retrieving my phone I had an email from WB. A smile spread across my face. I sat Indian style on the couch before opening it up.

WB: Merry Christmas, Sexy.

R.C.: Merry Christmas to you as well.

WB: I have a gift for you.

Instantly I ran to the door to check my porch, but nothing was there.

R.C.: I do not see a gift.

WB: No, this one you must come get. How about having Christmas dinner with me?

My heart skipped a beat.

He wants to meet?

 It was not that I did not want to meet the man that has brought so much to my life, but I have not been in the company of a man in ten years, less long been held, touched or kissed.

I wrung my hands, they shook nervously.

I looked around at the beautiful arrangements of roses throughout my living room that told the story of our developing friendship.

Green: rejuvenation of spirit

Yellow: Happiness

Pink: admiration, joy and sweetness

Orange: desire

White: new beginnings

Peach: appreciation

Cream: charm and thoughtfulness

Salmon: shows desire for someone

Lavender: eagerness to grow your relationship

Assorted colors: secret admirer

Packing up my husband’s things was a big step, this should be a piece of cake.

R.C.: Sure, where and when?

I clicked send before I could change my mind.

WB: I will send the car for you around 6. Cannot wait to see you, Beautiful


I strutted in the La Dell’s Tavern with confidence. It has been so long since I had been in the company of a man, I planned on enjoying every minute of it. I wore a red form fitting long dress that was a little looser then what I remember but my curves still did its justice. Not expecting to do anything on the holiday, I could not get my stylist to fit me in, so I laid my wavy hair down with a part on the side. I never wore a lot of makeup, but I dabbed on a little. I felt like a million bucks and looked like it too.

The restaurant was beautifully decorated in the Christmas cheer, candles was lit everywhere, and the scent of pine infiltrated my nose. Only one thing…it was empty.

The maître d approached me.

“Hello Madam, Mr. Billings is awaiting your presence,” he said as he bowed and guided me to the back.

I could see a man seated at the table, reading the menu. Upon approach he lowers the menu.

“Hello Beautiful.”

Well damn, as the young people say, he can get it!

This man was fine. He was an older version of Omari Hardwick.  He wore a close-cut fade, with a razor-sharp goatee, skin the color of caramel, thick lips, big doe eyes with lashes any woman would kill for and a smile that instantly got your panties wet. I imagine smearing my pussy all over those lips.

            The maître d slid my chair out and soon as I sat down my mystery man took my hand and kissed it.

I blushed.

“That would be all, Pierre.”

He bowed and walked away.

“Welcome to La Dell’s Tavern, where your wish is my command,” he said as he poured us both a glass of wine.

“I would like to make a toast, to beautiful company and new beginnings.”

I smiled a nervous smile and took a sip.

“Why so shy, my love?”

“I-I’m just a little nervous, why is this place completely empty,” I said looking around.

“Because we are closed on Christmas, I opened it just for you.”

“You own this restaurant?”

“Yes, it is and all its parts,” he laughed at his own joke.

He took another sip of wine and licked his lips.

Jesus, where in the hell this sexy fine specimen been hiding.

I felt a tingle between my thighs I have not experience in a long while and my nipples harden. They strained against the fabric of my dress as I imagined him licking each nipple just like he just licked those sexy lips.

He revealed a perfect set of white teeth as he notices my deep stare.

“You must like what you see, as well?”

Like is an understatement.

“Umm, h-how do we know each other?”

My voice came out in a squeak.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I can’t say I do.”

Trust, if we ever met, I doubt I would have forgotten.

            He laughed a throaty laughed.

            “I’ve been your neighbor for about ten years, Winston Billings,” he smiled, extending his hand.


            I returned his handshake that he ended with a kiss to my palm.

            That sent a jolt of electricity up my spine.    

Damn, I must have really been depressed, how the hell did I miss him?

            After that I loosened up, we had a wonderful time.

Great conversation.

Lots of laughs.

And as the wine flowed through my veins, a lot of flirting.

I felt alive!

I hated that it had to end.

We shared one more bottle of wine and decided to call it a night.

“Mrs. Cummings, I hope this won’t be the last time we see each other?” he smiled.

If this man smiles at me like that one more time he is going to see all of me, butt naked at this table.

“Not at all, I am looking forward to seeing you again. After all, you live across the street for heaven’s sake.

“Then it’s a date,” he said as he moved away from the table.

I gasped.

Oh my God, he is in a wheelchair.

I tried not to react but my fantasy fucking just flew out the window.

Trying not to make my disappointment obvious I offered to help him, but he called Pierre. Saying the ride home was uncomfortable was an understatement. I followed the skyline all the way home.

I scoffed at myself, my willingness to give up my husband’s memories for a man in a wheel chair.

When we arrived home, I jumped out of the car without a kiss goodnight, a thank you, not even so much as a goodbye.



 I punched at my legs as I laid in bed staring at the ceiling as my mind drifted back to that tragic day, a day I have not thought about in years.

The snow quickly mists the streets as the beginning of heavy snow fall begun. According to the weather broadcast, we were expecting at least 6-10 inches. My plan was to get all the paper work I needed from my restaurant and hibernate for the weekend.

I had just moved in and was not very familiar with the area, I got a little turn around and ended up back in front of my house. I spotted a man and his teenage son loading luggage into the trunk of their car.

“Good morning, could you direct me to the expressway please,” I shouted out of my window.

“No problem make a left at the corner, when you come up on a cul de sac, veer to you---, you know what, if you got a minute we are on our way in that direction anyway, you can follow us.”

“That would be great.”

I watched as a woman, all bundled up in winter fashion, stepped out the house, locked the door and walked to the driver side of the car. I smiled as I listened to the couple playfully argue about who was the best driver in the snow. She must have proved her point when she teased about how lost they got the first time they took their son to college, he stomped his way over to the passenger side without another word.

I pulled back enough to allowed them to back out of their drive way. I trailed them through the twist and turns.

Entering the expressway, I wave my hand thanking them as they sped up. The expressway was not too crowded, but the roads was getting a little slick.

“I can’t wait to get back to my warm cozy home.” I grumbled.

I watched the tail light of the couple’s car light up.

The the car started to spin out of control.

I immediately pulled to the side to avoid the impact, the car hit the medium and flipped.

“Oh shit!”

I jumped out my car and ran over to see how I could help, the way the car was positioned I only had access to the driver side door and the window was shattered. Tugging at the door, it would not bulge. I reached for the woman that was trapped by her seat belt. My little pocket knife was small but sharp, luckily it sliced right through. Getting good grip, I planted my feet and gave her one good yank out the window, unfortunately I lost my footing, stumbled too far in the road and was clipped by an oncoming vehicle.

That injury left me paralyzed from the waist down.


I sat on the couch with my legs pulled to my chest. Sadness engulfed me. For the last couple of days, I could see Winston moving about his home. He would turn towards me; our eyes would connect. I hoped he could feel my apology for being such a jerk the other night but instead he would pull his drapes shut.

My heart sunk day after day as he continued to ignore me. His neglect burned through my soul. I almost wished he would have stayed a mystery.

I questioned my apprehension.

Was I being childish, immature and petty, I mean, after all, this man made me want to enjoy life again. He made me feel wanted, desired and even loved.

Frustration danced back and forth on my nervous system. I knew my problem, I knew what irritated me.

He made me want to fuck.

Grabbing my lap top I decided to entertain myself with a little stalking.

He was 51 years old, born and raised in Toledo, Ohio.  Attended Tennessee State, bachelor’s degree in accounting and a master’s in Business Management.

Wife: Lashonda Dellia Billings. (deceased)

Owned a restaurant named La Dell’s Tavern, in business for 15 years

No children.

Net worth: $800,000

I clicked through news articles from the opening of his restaurant with his wife by his side. I read articles of celebrities that frequented his spot, pictures and reviews.



I chewed on my thumb nail as I read through the article. It talked about how he pulled over to the side of the road to help a car that spun out of control and ended up, upside down. Rescuing a woman from the car, a truck came by and struck Mr. Billings leaving him paralyzed for life.

Tears streamed down my face.

That poor man.

A dull feeling started in my stomach and crawled to my chest. I blinked away the tears trying to digest the scene before me. I continued to read.

Interstate 278.

“It couldn’t have been,” I said out loud.

EMTs rushed to the scene, cutting away at the metal, they were too late to save the other two victims from the car, but the woman was taken to the nearest hospital along with Mr. Billings.

I felt sick.

I felt weak.

Old feelings of guilt soared through my body when I saw the last piece of the puzzle.

The date: November 30th.

My hand flew to my mouth

He saved me!

I looked across the street and the drapes were still closed.

I cried all day.

I finally took a hot shower and put on my favorite cotton flannel gown and my footie. Sitting on the couch I notice the drapes were open again. Winston sat on his computer.

What if he found another love interest?

A burning crept in my chest.

What if he was sending her roses?

I stomped to the light switch, I flicked the lights on and off to get his attention. He looked my way and pulled the drapes.

I could not take it anymore, I missed him dearly.

I missed his attention.

But mostly, I missed the way he made me feel.

I threw on my Uggs and grabbed my coat.


       I knocked harder then I should have and rang the bell a couple of times too. Now that I have stepped out of my comfort zone and made it to his porch, turning around was not an option.

         He pulled the door open.

         “Hi.” I said softly looking down at my feet.


         We were frozen in time for a minute.

         He had on a form fitted t shirt that showed his tone chest and taunt stomach.

         Damn, he still sexy.

         I licked my lips.

         It is like he read my mind, he moved away from the door and I followed him in.

         His house was emaculant, totally design for his convenience.

         He moved over to the couch, locked his wheels and holstered himself up by his arms, suspended in the air. He did a couple of push-ups on the arm rest of his chair before he slid his torso onto the couch, he covered his legs with a blanket then patted the spot beside him.

         I imagined being holstered over his face as he trailed my pussy with his tongue


         My pussy thumped between my legs. I did not know how to act.

         Hell, I thought this Bitch was dead.

 I hurried to sit down so I could squeeze my legs together.

         “Have some?”

         He pointed to the wine tray.

         “Yes, please,” I nervously sputtered out.

         He grabbed another glass from the table behind the couch and poured.

         I gulped my first one down and stuck it out for a refill.

         He smiled a charming smile and obliged me.

         I took a sip as I looked at him over my glass.

         “So, it was you? You saved me?

         He nodded his head.

         “But why didn’t you say something?”

         “I don’t want your pity. I been in love with you for a long time, but I want you to want me, not feel obligated to me because I saved your life or because of this. He used his hand to gesture his wheel chair.

         “In love with me?”


“I really like you too, I mean, over the last 12 days you made me want to live, I-I just don’t know if I-I,” I stuttered as I tried to find the words.

“If you can deal with me being in a wheel chair?”

I bit my bottom lip. He touched my face causing a calming feeling to come over me. The same feeling that came over me the day of the accident. I remembered, his touch was familiar.

We sat, talked and drank. Around about the fourth bottle I was past tipsy, I was drunk. By now my Uggs was across the room and I totally forgot I did not have anything under my gown as he massaged my feet.

I laid my head back and enjoyed his finger slowly chipping away any inhibitions I had felt.

“O.K. so the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” I giggled about what I was about to reveal.


“Can you handle the truth?” I slurred

“Straight with no chaser,” he smiled.

“I really don’t have a problem with you being in a wheelchair. I’m quite sure over the years you have become very self-sufficient.”

“So, what is it then?”

I stared him straight in his eyes.

“I haven’t been fucked good in years and I need that shit”

He took my big toe and slid it in between his succulent lips. Electricity shot straight to my clit. He took his time and gave each individual toe the same attention.

My legs shook.

Each color of my beautiful roses flash before my eyes. A soft moan escaped my lips. A vibration teased my nipples and like he knew me he wet the tips of his fingers and taunted each one with a gentle twist. Running his hands up my thighs he reached my naked paradise.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He nibbled at my toes, sliding his tongue over the arch of my foot, played with my nipples and slid his thick finger in my awaiting wetness. Switching between one and two fingers and dragging his thumb down my neglected pearl, I gasp for air.


Pressure build in my pelvis as I humped his fingers. I thrashed my head back and forth in a frenzy.

“Oh God! Oh God!” I repeated as waves of pleasure intensified by the moment.

I held his wrist in place.

“Right there! Right there! Please don’t move!” I screamed as a boat of lighting shot through my body and I squirted all over his t-shirt.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Damn I needed that!” I praised him trying to catch my breath.

He tugged at my legs as I slid down on the couch. He pulled me to him with my legs hanging loosely over the bend of his arms.

“Let me taste your sweetness,” he whispered.

My eyes gazed into his, I lifted to meet his mouth, but his large hands cuffed my ass cheek and he lifted me to his mouth.

Well I be damn!

He slathered his tongue over my whole pussy before he entered me with his thick tongue.

He moaned like he just bit into a juicy ripe peach.

“Damn Baby, you taste just like I imagined you would,” he slurped.

Swiping his tongue quickly over my sensitive button, I held onto his ears, practically ripping them off. Juices poured out of me like a rain forest and he lapped it up like a thirsty dog. Letting my body drop I thought I died and went to heaven.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

My eyes popped open. I started shaking my head.

“No, no, I think you proved your point. Those were the best two orgasms I ever had in my life.

“Since you are going to be my wife you need to get to know all of me,” he insisted.

He removed the blanket from his lap.

“I said my legs didn’t work, but he still does,” he smirked a sexy smile.

I looked down and saw the prettiest 9-inch dick with a perfect mushroom.

“You think you can handle him?”

His eyes twinkled.

I am sure in the fuck going to try.

I smile a devious smile.

I crawled up on his lap, he grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. I lowered my head and licked my juices from his lips. Kissing and sucking my neck led him to my breast. Taking his time sucking them slow than fast, soft then hard, he took his stiffness and slid it up and down my pussy and over the crack of my ass.

My walls ached for his arrival.

Taking control, I grabbed his hardness and put it where I wanted it. With a slow rock I adjusted to his size. Opening my walls, I allowed him in, his soft hands rubbed my back down to my thick hips as I rocked back and forth.

His eyes met mines, I bit my bottom lip.

He took my lip in his mouth and sucked gently.

I laid my head in the crook of his neck as I did a slow rhythm bounce.

“I want you to be mines forever,” he whispered.

A tear slid down my cheek as I looked for deception in his eyes but there were none.

“Say you will be mine,” he whispered again.

I was so caught up I could not even speak. He slammed my hips down and rocked me back and forth.

He kissed me so tenderly, he kissed my eyes, my nose and my lips.

Tears stream down my face as Winston made love to my soul.

“Yes, I’m yours,” I said effortlessly.

I deserve to live.