The Rich Girls' Club (22 page)

Ladies, listen up. Read and hear what I’m about to tell you.

There is definitely a deception of dick.

Most men aren’t in touch with their manhood but they’re constantly stroking their dicks. They each devalue their dicks but somehow expect you to give it, not him, meaning and purpose.

Sad but true—a man will stick his dick in you, pull it out, put it in another woman the same or the next day and expect both of you to say, “I love you,” to him.

A man that thinks with his dick has no conscience. He believes that all he needs to do is make you cum, cry, and commit because his dick is so damn good you’ll never leave him. Scratch that. Most men couldn’t care less if you cum. Some of them believe you can’t leave him because you can’t live without his…dick?

Feel me on this one, ladies, this derogatory behavior is real. These guys are so in lust with their own dick that if they could suck it themselves they wouldn’t need you for shit. Why do you think they say, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

You’ve never heard anyone say, “Girl, sex him senseless and he’ll never cheat.” Face the fact. You can’t satisfy a dick.

The deception of dick is…it has a conscience. That’s a lie!

A man will stick his dick in another man’s ass then bring that same dick home to you and stick it your mouth. You can find a shit stain in the front of his underwear and believe him when he says, “I don’t know how that happened.”

A dick doesn’t have the muscle to tell you the truth. “I love dick as much as you do. I want to fuck your sister, cousin, mother, and brother, too.”

It’s hard when it’s hard.

It’s hard to tell which way he goes, and like E. Lynn Harris’s novel, in most cases it’s
Any Way the Wind Blows
. Most men are whores but they want you to respect them in the morning when they’re on their way out the door to hook up with a stranger they met on Grindr, Craigslist, or someplace else online.

He’ll show up, let another man fuck him in the ass, go to work, and despise gay men. This is often the man that constantly claims he’s straight, as if he has something to prove to himself.

The deception of dick is…it has a conscience.

A man will fuck you as many times as you will give him your good pussy, then turn around and marry someone else. But you thought he was yours and when he divorced his wife you assumed you’d be the one standing at the altar. You gave him your good pussy and wanted him to give you his last name. Oh, well. Actually he did you a favor.

Dick can do that for you. Favors.

I went out with this guy. I liked his ass a lot. He messed up things when he asked me, “Are you having sex with anyone else?”

I told him, “Absolutely. I’d be foolish not to. You’re separated from your wife, you’ve got baby mama drama, and chicks on the side.”

He said, “Baby, I can have any woman I want. I can have all the pussy I want. But I just want you.”

Okay, the personal driver every time we went out was great. The fact that this man was top notch when we went out on dates was fantastic. Spending his money was never ever an issue.

But his dick had him confused, not me. He had the audacity to tell me he didn’t want me sexing other men. I told him, “Look, if we’re going out, we’re fucking. If we’re not fucking, we’re not going out. I’m a woman. I don’t have time for mind games.”

Each conversation we had after that he started asking about how many guys I was seeing. I told him, “If I never see you again in my life, that’ll be okay with me. But if I see you on the street, I’ll speak.” I was done with him.

Forget that
Act Like a Lady Think Like a Man
bullshit. If you don’t fuck like a man, ladies, you will eventually get fucked.

Some women think this type of guy is all that. These are the ones that’ll make you believe you’re the only one he’s sexing when the truth is he’s wining, dining, and fucking another woman and telling her the same things he tells you.

You’ve been deceived by the dick. Admit it.

You thought that dick loved you. You thought that dick exclusively belonged to you. A dick is like a stray dog…constantly on the prowl for pussy. And he’ll cum inside your pussy to mark his territory. And once you let him hit it raw he’ll always believe he can get it again, and again, and again.

Why? Because in most instances he can.

Why? Because you feel you’re better than the last and will outlast the next female that rides his dick. Your pussy is better, faster, tighter and can do flips and she’s always got a new trick for his dick.

I wish dicks came with a speedometer so women could see how many miles he had. I wish there was a limit on how many times he could cum. Let’s say two thousand shots max. Or I wish he’d lose an inch off his dick for every mile he tried to roll back on his dick-o-meter.

Like Pinocchio’s nose, every time he lied his dick would grow not an inch but a mile. He’d have to call ahead and phone an elephant to say, “I’m only going to put the head in,” because getting pussy would be like
Mission: Impossible
.

The deception of dick is…it has a conscience.

A dick will fuck up your heart, tear your insides and world apart. Your heart will tell a man’s dick, “I love you,” when he’s beating your ass, spending your cash, and he won’t even take out the trash.

The more he fucks over you, the more he fucks you, and the more you believe he loves you when he doesn’t love you at all. Why? Because he doesn’t know what love is or how it’s supposed to feel.

He’s got you whipped and now you want to whup every other bitch’s ass. Not because you think she wants him. You know that dude is trifling. He’s flirting with the next woman and you’re afraid he’s going to leave you to get with her, and you’re probably right. But it’s not her fault.

It’s your fault that you’ve allowed yourself to fall in love with a dick. Get a clue. A dick should fuck you, not fuck with your head.

Okay, I’ma say this and leave this topic alone. A woman who can deceive a dick, is queen of the throne.

The deception of dick is…whatever you want it to be.

1. If you were to organize the Rich Girls’ Club with your girlfriends, who would you invite to join and why? What would be the purpose of your club?
   
2. Which of the four girls do you identify with most and why would you love to have her lifestyle?
   
3. As a group, devise a campaign strategy to have one of your book club members elected for a high political position. Which member would you select to run? Why?
   
4. Ladies, do you believe pussy is best served ice cold? Could you serve your pussy ice cold? Just for fun, create a mission to lure or outsmart a man. Explain how you will accomplish your goal by using your female power.
   
5. What’s your favorite sex scene? Just for fun, share with the group your fantasy or create a sex scene you’d like to see in a book.
   
6. In my opinion, infidelity is overrated, because most men who cheat try to justify their actions by blaming the woman. Would you agree or disagree? Could you forgive your mate if they cheated on you?
   
7. In the sex triangle between Brooks, Morgan, and Magnum, what do you feel the outcome should be? Should Morgan stay married to Magnum? Should Brooks and Morgan remain friends? Which affair do you believe will end?
   
8. Do you think women who have sex with women can contract sexually transmitted diseases? If so, what diseases and how?
   
9. Should women with money date like men? Under what circumstances would you date like a man?
   
10. What politicians do you believe would have sex with the same sex if no one was watching? Which married politicians do you think are cheating on their spouses?
    
11. Should a married man have a vasectomy without his wife’s permission?
    
12. Why aren’t women publicly humiliated for having affairs? How many women can you name that have been exposed in the media for having affairs?
    
13. Do you prefer to date younger or older? As long as the person is of legal age, is there a limit on whether someone’s too young or too old for you?
    
14. Chris Rock said, “Women would rule the world, if women didn’t hate women.” What do you think he meant? Do you agree? Are there any women you’re jealous of or don’t like? Why?
    
15. If someone wrote you a check for one million dollars, what would you do with the money?
    
16. Do you think married couples should spend time apart from one another on a weekly, monthly, or yearly basis, or not at all? (From Chapter 2)
    

Life is an awesome journey through the unknown, a priceless adventure of countless experiences. We are the pilots of our passion. We never control the outcome of our choices but with each step we navigate the road ahead. What you do with your life is up to you and nobody else. It’s impossible to be everything to everybody. Please don’t die before you decide to live life to the fullest. Release your sexual inhibitions. Dance naked in the rain. Love and make love to yourself; you’ll be happier.

Remember, no man acquires success independent of another. For my achievements I’m thankful to the Creator, my publishers, editors, agents, family, friends, and to each of you. I acknowledge and appreciate your emotional and financial support. You are a blessing to me and I pray somehow, even in a small way, that I too have or will positively influence you.

The main reason I smile is because of my son, Jesse Bernard Byrd, Jr. Honey, you’re the best. I’m proud to be your mom and I love you unconditionally. Another reason is my guardian angels—my mother, Elester Noel; my father, Joseph Henry Morrison; my great aunt, Ella Beatrice Turner; and my great uncle, Willie Frinkle—always lift me up when I need them. Wayne, Andrea, Derrick, and Regina Morrison, Margie Rickerson, and Debra Noel are my siblings. Thanks, guys, for always believing in me.

I genuinely appreciate all of my Facebook friends and fans, my Twitter followers, my MySpace crew, and my McDonogh 35 Senior High alumni. Happy thirtieth reunion to my class of 1982!

To Latoya Smith, Karen R. Thomas, Linda A. Duggins, and Jamie Raab for supporting my career at Grand Central Publishing. Latoya, congratulations on your accomplishments. I look forward to working with you as my new editor and enjoyed getting to know you better during our time in the Bay Area. You’re a brilliant woman. I wish you the best of everything.

Thanks to my editor and friend, Selena James at Kensington Publishing Corporation. To Steven Zacharius, Adam Zacharius, Laurie Parkin, Karen Auerbach, Adeola Saul, Lesleigh Underwood, and everyone else at Kensington for growing my literary career. In loving memory of Walter Zacharius. It is my honor to be a part of your undying legacy to the world of literature. Your spirit will dwell within me forever.

Well, what’s an author without brilliant agents? I’m fortunate to have two of the best agents in the literary business, Andrew Stuart and Claudia Menza. You are appreciated.

By the time you read this,
Soulmates Dissipate
the movie will be scheduled to premiere in theaters. I thank everyone that is making this seven-film project possible—Leslie Small, director/producer; Jeff Clanagan, CEO of Codeblack Entertainment and producer; Dawn Mallory and Jesse Byrd, Jr., producers; Richard C. Montgomery (my best friend and business partner); and all of my fans.

Wishing each of you peace and prosperity in abundance. Visit me online at www.MaryMorrison.com, sign up for my HoneyBuzz newsletter. Join my fan page on Facebook at Mary Honey B Morrison, and follow me on Twitter @marybmorrison.

I
came to tell you something,” she said softly.

Loretta sat across the table from me at our favorite restaurant, Grand Lux Café, on Westheimer Road. Her naturally chocolate lips were perfectly painted with that sweet gloss I’d tasted twenty-three times. I wanted to lean over the table, suck it all off, up my count to twenty-four.

Her big brown eyes connected with mine. When her thick lips parted, my dick got hard, making me reminisce about the first and last time she’d given me fellatio. Loretta had said, “I’m never sucking your dick again,” because I came too fast. Hopefully she’d change her mind, but if not, that was okay with me as long as she kissed me somewhere.

Her wide pink tongue peeped at me. The scent of fresh bubblegum traveled from her mouth to my nose. Loretta’s mouth was always inviting. I winked at her, then smiled.

“You know what you just did to me, right? You gave me another woody,” I whispered. “My dick is hard.”

I lifted my brows twice, narrowed my eyes, kept smiling at her. She made me feel sexy, had done things to me no other woman had. She’d once tied me to my bed, naked except for my cowboy boots, then rode me like I was a bucking bull. My head banged against the headboard as I screamed her name.

My woman exhaled, rolled her eyes to the corners, then returned her gaze to me. Her stare was dreamy.

If she said she was pregnant, she’d make me the happiest man in the world. I swear I’d jump on the table and shout to everyone in hearing range, “We’re pregnant!”

Yelling too loud would hurt my throat. But the announcement of my son would be worth the joy and pain. Twenty years ago I was shot in the shoulder and the bullet grazed my vocal cord. The damage was permanent, my voice forever deep and scratchy. When I first met Loretta, she thought I was hoarse. The louder I tried to speak, the more it hurt, but I loved to talk. Some women actually thought my voice was sexy. But not Loretta.

My baby scratched the side of her nose. “I don’t want to go out with you anymore. You’re nice and all, but I can’t. I met you here to let you know that this is our last date.”

Generally, I’d want to ram my tongue down her throat and give her one of my juicy kisses, letting the saliva drain from my mouth to hers. Now, all I wanted to shove in her mouth was my huge fist. Lucky for her, we were not alone. That, and I didn’t hit ladies, even when I felt they deserved a slap or two.

An affectionate pat on the back from me had sent a few grown men stumbling. “Watch your heavy hands,” Loretta would scold when I touched her face.

“I don’t understand. I thought things between us was getting better.”

“For you,” she said.

“For me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I even went to that sex therapist you recommended. You can’t deny the sex between us is the best you’ve ever had. Right?”

“For you,” she said again.

The heel of my left boot lifted then thumped to the floor. Again and again. I shook my leg sideways, rubbed the denim covering my left thigh.

“What about the lingerie I just bought you? You using me? You gon’ put my shit on for some other nigga?”

Loretta opened her oversized purse, handed me a red plastic Frederick’s bag. “I thought you’d bring that up. I never wore them. Everything is there, including the receipt.”

I didn’t want no fucking refund. I wanted her!

“Tell me what your problem is. Give me a chance to fix it,” I pleaded. This woman was making me look like a guest on an old episode of
Jerry Springer
. What was I supposed to do with the engagement ring in my damn pocket?

“I’m tired of telling you that you talk too much. Your voice is annoying. You don’t listen to what I have to say. Your shoving your tongue down my throat, draining your bodily fluids into my mouth is horrible, but you think each kiss is ‘the best kiss ever.’ You think we’re in a relationship when I keep telling you…we’re not!”

“We are in a relationship!”

“I’m not your woman.”

“You are my woman. We talk on the phone every day. We go out every other day. And we’ve had great sex. What’s wrong with you?”

“You. I’ve only known you for three weeks and my stress level has gone from calm to calamity.” Loretta pushed back her chair. “As nice as you are, you are not the guy for me. You’re not the guy for any woman, Granville,” she said. “Take care.”

There was someone for everyone and Loretta was mine. I couldn’t let the love of my life walk away from me. I grabbed her wrist. “But we haven’t eaten. Look, I’m sorry. I apologize. I love you, Loretta. Sit down. Let’s have lunch. You talk. I’ll listen. You’re right.”

“And you’re desperate. Let me go.”

I wanted to release her. I couldn’t let go. What if she was serious? What if I never saw her again? My fingers tightened. Worse, what if I saw her with another man?

Loretta picked up a glass of water, tossed it in my face. This was one of those few moments when a woman made me want to hit her.

Why was Loretta treating me this way? All I tried to do was take good care of her. Treat her with respect. Buy her nice things.

I dug deep into my pocket. Pulled out a twenty, placed it on the table. Dug into my other pocket, pulled out the ring, flipped open the box, kneeled on one knee, stared up at her. “Marry me, Loretta.”

I continued holding her wrist until she shouted, “Let me go!”

The people staring at me were supposed to be cheering for me, for us. I dumped the ring in my palm, snapped the box closed, jammed the box in my pocket, staggered to my feet. The baby I wanted us to have wasn’t growing inside her? The woman I loved had to have a reason to love me too. Anger festered inside me as she broke my grip, stomped out of the restaurant.

I trailed her to her car. “Wait, give me one more chance.”

Loretta faced me, waved her hands in front of my face. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you, skank ass bitch? You’d better get your hands out my face. You gon’ need medical attention if you don’t. I told you I’d put you on my insurance. You’d rather be a hometown ho, spreading your pussy around Houston like pollen, than to let me take care of you?”

Calmly, she said, “Yes.”

“You trifling bitch! You’re not going anywhere,” I said, blocking her driver’s side door.

“You need to get your fucked up, crooked yellow teeth, nasty-ass crusty feet, slobbering like a dog in heat self away from me and my car.”

“You’re right. I apologize. Please forgive me. Will you marry me?”

I fought to put my ring on her finger. She yanked her hand away.

“Officer!” Loretta shouted. “Help me!”

I hadn’t noticed the cop getting out of his car until now. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I stepped aside, hoping Loretta would get in her car and go home. That way we could continue our conversation in private.

“Is there a problem, sir?” the officer asked me. His hand was on his gun.

“No problem. Just a little lovers’ quarrel with my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his damn girlfriend. He’s harassing me. I’m trying to leave, but he won’t let me.”

“Sir, let me see your identification.”

“What did I do?” I asked. My eyes narrowed toward Loretta. “She’ll calm down shortly. Women always exaggerate. Soon as you leave, she’ll be begging me to come over to her house and you know what, man.”

“I’m not going to ask you again, sir.”

Fuck!
I eased my wallet out of my pocket, handed my license to the officer. “Here.”

“Wait right here. Better yet, you come with me. Ma’am, you wait here.”

Women could fuck things up in a heartbeat. When shit didn’t go their way they wanted the police to rescue their ass. Just like that, Loretta was about to know what I didn’t want her to find out. Ever.

The policeman got out of his car. “Put your hands behind your back and turn around.”

“Why? What did I do?”

“I’m not going to ask you again…sir.” The officer unfastened the latch securing his stun gun, pulled it out.

I faced the fuckin’ patrol car, did as I was told. I knew the routine. The officer placed his hand on top of my head, shoved me in the car, left the door open.

I sat there feeling like an idiot. Watched him escort Loretta to the patrol car like I was in a lineup and she needed to ID me. I stared at her. After all I done for her, that bitch didn’t have an ounce of empathy for me. Just like the rest, she’d get hers.

“Let me see your identification,” the officer asked Loretta.

She opened her purse, handed the cop her license.

“I don’t know your relationship to this man, but there’s something you should know,” the officer said. “Granville Washington has three restraining orders against him filed in Houston by three different women. If he’s harassing you, I suggest you do the same, Ms. Lovelace. This man is dangerous.”

“Arrest him! He’s insane. I want to press charges.”

“Wish I could, ma’am, but I don’t have cause to arrest this man. He hasn’t violated the law.”

Watching Loretta walk away, I smiled on the inside. It would be in her best interest to take the officer’s advice. I’d never violated a restraining order. Better to get another woman than to go to jail and become someone else’s woman.

I wasn’t finished with Loretta Lovelace yet. If she were wise, she’d never turn her back on me again.