#EroticFiction Friday: The Beauty behind the Beast

Photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash

Friday is finally here and so is this month’s #EroticFiction Friday story. Check this out and other stories by our featured storyteller, DNC.

The Beauty behind the Beast

by DNC

For a late October afternoon in Atlanta, it was beautiful Sunday Funday in the city. Warm enough for me to wear sandals and a maxi dress, but with a breeze that teased me into bringing a jacket. Our normal ladies’ brunch was at a new location down in the heartbeat of Little Five Points. A small, but busy bistro nestles between the Rundown Record store and the Grand Ole Towne theatre, which I had visited on several occasion with my ex. Thoughts of those wasted memories rumble through my head down to my stomach—nausea hits hard and fast.

“Wow Sam, it’s really like…like a hole in the wall, but with coffee.” Gina was right. I chose this place on purpose. Hole in the walls are known to be gems of the city and I knew this one wouldn’t disappoint. Dilapidated bricks only enticed my imagination for the deliciousness inside.

Gina, Mari and I meet weekly to shoot the shit, pat our weaves and cry rivers about any and everything that happened the week before. It’s our sister session, an event that we’ve tried to keep in place over the years. Fifteen years to be exact. It’s the only time when our family or jobs can’t keep us away from each other. They’re my sisters and every time we get together it was like getting Salt-N-Pepa back on the dance floor with Spendarella blazing up the turntables. A sister circle that couldn’t be broken.

Finally inside the doors after several more “are you for real” and “we can do betters,” we’re introduced to the sparkling side of the gem. Afrobeats filled our ears as we take in the vibrant yellows, greens, and reds painted over the walls and the rich brown tones of the furniture. Couches and high boys were drizzled throughout the place, filled with mixed tones of all types of people. It was a beautiful blend of ethnicities.

The sign said “seat yourself then coffee us” so we did. We begin to mulling over our caffeine options when I see him.

Just a table up from us sat Daniel and his new girlfriend. Daniel Matthew Dalton was the orchestrator of a tragedy—and more recently the stomach ache from earlier memories—which played over and over in my mind and sometimes in my nightmares. Or maybe they were just dreams with suck ass endings.

Ironically, our beginning always made me smile.

He was my worst and best memories. He was my knight and tyrant. The beast under the beauty, eating up my heart, devouring my body in the most sensual manner, then leaving my soul out for the vultures to finish off.

My gaze was trapped on his face, the same face that I loved to look at each morning for six years until that face reminded me of the women he chose over me. She was one of them. Absolutely butt fuck ugly, but yet strong enough to take him from me in one night. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I guess, and he saw something that I’ll never understand.

Quickly, I look away, hoping that he didn’t see me. Mari catches my quickness and examines the room. Her Sherlock Holmes mentality was roaming and I know it wouldn’t be long until she’s found the clue.

“Is that Daniel?” Mari’s eye balloon and a snarl grows over her lips. Answering her question was risky, but one I had to take. These are my sisters.

“Yeah it is,” I murmur knowing that I may have just unleashed the Kraken.

Mari and Gina looked at each other, then over at him. If their sight were lasers, he would be dead instantly but he wasn’t and I’m sure they were disappointed at their un-Superman-like abilities.

They hated him more than my heart did. They knew of the control he once had over me and it hurt them as much as it did to watch him break me down piece by piece, tear after tear. I wish I didn’t have to lean on them when it hurt so bad but they would never let me go through it alone.

“Fuck that bitch and his bitch!” Gina blurted out. The buzzing of the room seemed to simmer down as Gina pulled out her best Pitbull impression. Even at her 5-foot-2-inch statute, she would’ve loved to go right over to his table, kick off her shoes, pull back her curly coils and commence to starting a UFC title battle with them both. What can I say? She’s my ride-or-die team captain.

“You know what,” Mari whispered, “I can go behind the bar, act like I’m making them a drink and then piss in that shit. Yeah, piss in that shit and then have the waitress serve it to them.” My dear Mari was creative, and even though she was the best bartender I know and could easily pass as one in this diverse establishment, I couldn’t allow for her to risk getting arrested by wasting her own piss on them. They aren’t even worth that.

I love my girls, but now wasn’t the time or the place. This is our day and I couldn’t let anything or anyone, especially a ghost from the past, disrupt it.

“Chill out y’all. It’s cool. I’ve moved on and apparently, he has too.” I take a stab at a calm tone, hoping that it tames their spirits. As much as he hurt me, I can’t allow him to suck any more energy out of me or my team.

They both sigh and I watch their vindictive desires subside.

“As long as you’re good, we’re good,” Mari responds with Gina nodding in total agreement.

“I’m good.” I nod. “For real, I promise.” I shoot them a smile and try to get our brunch date restarted.

“So how are Bobby and the twins Mari? Have they started driving yet?”

She spurts a high-pitched “gurl,” then starts in on a beautiful story about her two precious 18-month-old twins and how they now push each other across the floor, but my attention starts to drift back to Daniel.

I look back over at the table. His girl was talking to him but now, his eyes were on me. Locked on the prey he once trapped in his intoxicating clutches. His dark brown eyes brought me back to the passion I’ve tried my best to forget.

A flash of our best night freezes me. I could hear his voice.

“I need you.” Echoes in my head. His raspy voice calls for my attention in my daydream and I started to feel his firm touch creeping up my thigh like it did once before. His large hands and long fingers use to inch up pausing halfway to feel my response. My leg would start shaking trying to calm my cove but it would never work. It could never work because he knew exactly what my body needed.

I wanted his fingertips on my skin just one last time. Damnit! He’s doing it again—pulling my body back in.

Read the full story on DNC’s Patreon page, plus more exclusive stories. Support indie authors and keep the passion flowing.


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