The Whole MontyMature

Relations versus Relationships; wooooeeeee!

Mereda has always been the sole physical attraction of the neighbor boy’s sexual desires and the perverted fantasies of the dirty old men, in her close-knit neighborhood, having over-developed into a stunning, 5'10, 140lb, beauty as a teen.

The affirmation of proper morals and sacred legends were of top-value in the small town of Edenton, North Carolina. Prep school, college and university education all play a part in her emotional, sexual, social and physical development.

Raised in an upper-middle class family of Diamond and Platinum jewelry makers; both great grandmothers, her grandmother and grandfather, her mother, 4 uncles, 2 aunts and all 4 older brothers. Mereda has always been surrounded by beautiful, educated, eccentric, class A socialites; humbly promising loyal friendship and uninhibited-ness for all.

Ten years pass. Having been a librarian since age 20, Mereda places her poster on its stand out front of the public library; ‘The Lighthouse People’ 6:30pm tonight then returns to her swivel chair behind the high counter to continue scanning books to reshelf.

The flaming sun is making life dizzy is Atlanta; not even the air-conditioned Marta rail, which Jonathan choses as a low-key method to meet women, was a comfort. He steps into the air-conditioned coolness of the downtown’s main library, his dark blue FUBU sweat suit clinging to his nice physique, located one block off Peachtree Street, to return his nearly over due books; crimes of heart, sexual crimes and the like, after leaving his half eaten raisin bagel on the table at the Dunkin Donuts next door.

"Here you are, breathing Aqua-fresh breath. It is gosh darn hot!"

"I can believe that, I smile, handing him Kleenex to wipe his glistening beads of sweat. On your way to work" I find myself asking. The attraction is instant.

"Not today. I’m finishing up a report for a college course" he lies; when what he’s really doing is creating a criminal defense for himself.

"What’s the subject" why the books weren’t warning her. Jonathan’s sexual appetite has become too much for normal relationships.

His oppressing fantasies of sexually gratifying himself on unsuspecting women with foreign features, had become a reality many years ago; Mereda may be forced to fit the bill.

"Sex. What constitutes a criminal act and how it can distort the views of some. How the sexually ignorant can misconstrue consenual relationships" he leans in towards her to finish in the whisper of a snake charmer.

Sonya, dark-skin, 6'1 at 157lbs, enters the library, hearing the tail-end of the conversation, after spending most of last night and part of the morning legalizing her separation from Alison Jefferson; a wealthy Chinese and black money manager who taught her how to be emotionally violent and socially selfish.

She coughs a soft interruption, "Something going on I need to know about…"

Slowly spinning around to face Sonya with a smile that quickly fades to a frown at her handsome studliness. "Talk with you later" he responds nonchalantly, then steps away leaving her feeling blank as a new page. He steps to the information computers, taps in his request. As his printout ends, he heads to the third floor.

Government Profiler and FBI agent Dennis Meriwether is right behind Jonathan; about to close the ‘Captured’ folder on his sexually deviant criminal ass. Agent Meriwether removes the profile sheet, holding it side by side to the most recent photo of Jonathan Wayne Bryers. Every single detail almost accurate; no marriage on file, physically fit, 6’2, 28-35, avid partaker of all things sexually and criminally insane. Kidnaps and tortures; monstrously murdering and dismembering others; relocating after each crime. Possibly works as an accountant/numbers man.

Meets foreign looking women, who allows him to overpower them with smooth conversation who or socially gullible or on the rebound.

Agent Meriwether contacts Samuel Roberson, the aggressive homicide detective that’s assigned to the case, working 25 hours, 8 days a week, for re-clarification of his prior findings.

Over the phone Detective Roberson spills, "He’d keep his victims full of Xanax and Valium, Ecstasy, crap like that is what we’ve found in tox reports on the corpses attributed to him. He makes them add and subtract math equations, he says. Get this, they stayed alive as long as they got the answers right. When the answer was wrong he slit their throat; not deep enough to kill them out right but deep enough for them to slowly bleed to death. This MF is crazy" he expresses to Meriwether.

"How’d you know this?"

"Had a couple of survivors is what led us to believe this is serial. We had a witness here."

"She still around?"

"Nope. Died in a plane crash last year relocating, how ironic. He’d discard the bodies with the numbers written in crimson and some blueberry colored lipstick and or marker all over them." Through the phone they could feel one another shaking their heads.

"What’s his type? How’d he get next to them?"

"I’m faxing you all my information over right now." Meriwether provides Roberson with his fax number.

Mereda, busy with her cart, locates the whereabouts of books to keep her mind off her personal affairs.

"Excuse me, where can I find the 730s" a female voice breaks in to her concentration.

"Back two rows on your right" Mereda says without missing a thought.

"Thank you."

Jonathan meanders through the quiet, humming to himself, looking for the numbers the computer spit out, "Here we go" he announces in a whisper.

Mereda back at her desk helping patrons, notices Jonathan about the fourth person back flipping through a book. As he approaches she fumbles at a job she knows so well, cute-guy struck, almost hapless to keep her composure. He pauses, head down with his eyes scanning a page. To her he is beautiful; just plain beautiful. Just the perfect look-up-to height, with hold-on’able shoulders and a firm tissue-soft ass that can potentially rock her world.

"Can I be of some help to you" I offer in my most delicate tone.

"I’m looking for you, I mean your, he smiles, sex, sexual turn’ons and such" as their eyes just miss becoming locked.

Softly I respond, "600, 1st thru 4th shelves."


"What" I blush.

"That you can just know where that particular subject is. How long have you been a librarian? You can’t be more than 20."

"I wouldn’t be much help if I couldn’t serve you, blushing, not knowing the potential repercussions of her words and actions. I mean help everybody that needs me. It wouldn’t be to your benefit if I didn’t know. And for 3 years. 27" I smile with my remarkable green eyes and perfectly arch eyebrows; foreign features for real.

Mereda stands 6'1 without her inch-high heels. Her waist length cornrows fit perfectly with her long neck, high cheekbones and slightly broad nose, all frosted over in a wood-brown cream. Her two hour-a-day workouts are paying off; big time.

"Ma’am, an escalated and irate voice interrupts. There’s a man over by the window, reeking of sour wine and a combination of other god-awful scents. Jonathan steps away. He’s rambling about being a Vietnam veteran they tied dynamite to or something. PLEASE do something!"

"Yes ma’am" I agree, reluctant to leave Jonathan’s fading presence.

Mereda clears the window situation and relocates Jonathan.

"You alright back here by yourself?"

Gesturing her forward, "615.39 Walker."

With her keen pointing finger, "607...mmm, 615...615.3 .39Walker, pulls it out. Here you go."

"Are you going to tell me your name?"


Time slides away. Jonathan steps into the bright sun’s shine of Atlanta’s midday. Immediately his cooled body temperature evaporates like a blanket was thrown over him.

Mereda and Sonya end up in the break room at the same time. Sonya is fuming, barely able to mask it with a fake smile.

"I saw you and that man flirting around. He’s real cute" she acknowledges, with an apparently jealous attitude.

"What are you talking about? I was doing what a librarian does, help find book."

"Look like you two were up to more than that."

"Here, you’re my Supervisor, not my Significant. You better remember that while you trying to mess with me about whom I speak with and for what reasons; let’s not go there" I demand.

"Whatever. Are we still having a late dinner or what?"

"Yes. After my session at 6:30, I’ll be right home. You need anything while I’m out?"

"No; just hurry home."

Mereda is showing the beautiful displays of several of her favorite lighthouses. Angel’s Gate and Pigeon Point in California; Rock of Ages Light and Chicago Harbor in the West Great Lakes. Sand Keys and Carysford Reef in the South Atlantic, as the dedicated crowd gathers and take cross-legged sit-downs on the brown plush carpet.

"Everyone, snapping her thin fingers for attention. Everyone, I’m ready to begin. I’m from the small town of Edenton, North Carolina, which is famous for its lighthouses. The Lighthouse People, Bob and Sandra Shanklin of Fort Walton Beach, would go to great lengths to capture a single photo of the uniqueness of each lighthouse. They’d trudge down trails with high winds blowing, slog through sand carrying camera bags in hundred degree temperatures with bugs biting their legs and arms and face. They’d wade through knee-deep trails flooded with the water from the Hudson River. They’d use crabber’s boats, lobsterman’s boats, twin-engine planes, single engine planes, seaplanes; just about any mode of transportation they could get. They’d climb over boulders, hang from tree branches over cliffs and roll in mud puddles under fences all to photograph a Light House; believing that the Portland Head Maine lighthouse is one to fall in love with.

Bob contends that ‘lighthouses are a virus with no known cure.’ The Shanklins call themselves the lighthouse people having photographed around 200 lighthouses. Please feel free to gather literature over on the table, and view the lighthouse displays with caution; they're from my personal collection, she smiles. Thank you. The group applauds. The guests mingle, observe and converse about the information Mereda has shared. The presentation concludes 45 minutes later.

Mereda arrives at the beautiful condominium she shares with Sonya who is relaxing in the kitchen sipping Beringer’s White Zinfandel from a crystal flute. She rushes upstairs, takes a quick shower and throws on a two-piece DKNY cotton short set to join Sonya in washed-out Kani jeans and wife-beater.

A dinner of creative conversation, assorted pastas and jumbo shrimp covered in a creamy wine sauce, is going well, when Mereda’s cell phone chimes.

"Who the hell can that be" Sonya blast with a shrimp tail hanging from between her pearl white teeth.

"Don’t know. Be right back, I say softly. I step into the hallway because the number is not on my Contact List, Hello, who is this?"


"Me who?"

"Me, Jonathan."

"Jonathan? She catches her breath. Okay, now I remember, I smile. How’d you get my cell number?"

"I have my ways of getting what I want."

With her back facing the dining area, she doesn’t see Sonya peering, like an old lady out the window at neighborhood kids. "This is not a good time to talk because I’m having dinner. If you can stop by tomorrow, it’ll be better."

"Be looking out the window for your future around sixish" smiling into the receiver.

"Bye" returning his unseen smile.

"What are you doing? That’s that guy from earlier. I bet he could feel you grinning through the damn phone like a Cheshire. The last time almost didn’t turn out so well, stepping right up into her face. I’m telling you I’m refusing to share, shaking her head as she stomps back into the kitchen. Reda we promised that we’d not go through this damn drama again. We made it through the mess with Alison. I legally separated from my wife; a great deal of it having to do with your ass."

"What are you talking about" pressing passed her, feeling knots in her stomach beginning to vibrate. Sonya stands right at her heels.

"Mereda darling, I know you understand that your beauty is a captivating flaw that you can't control, that you crown relationships with compassion and submissiveness; it’s my turn and I’m not done loving you yet. We made vows when we decided life would be better lived if we live it on our own terms. I love you so much, so very much."

"I know, and I don’t want to discuss this right now please. I’m hungry and, in the mood" trying to hurry off the subject.

Sonya verbally tears into Mereda with hammering words and loaded assaults then grabs a salad fork from the ceramic counter.

"Not tonight with this mess" I beg.

"You think I’m something to fuckin’ play with; make me hurt you bitch..." flash-backing to the night Mereda was speaking with Alison on the phone about her not forcing Sonya to stay. Mereda mentally struggles for her sanity.

"DAMN YOU Sonya" I scream. Mereda escapes from the airy Aqua-blue kitchen, as Sonya throws the fork, and into the elegance of their beautifully designed bedroom, slamming herself into the beige, black and white ultra-plush comforter.

Moments later Sonya steps quietly into the arched doorway.

"I’m sorry Reda."

I flip over to look directly into Sonya’s tear-stained face.

"That’s what I’m afraid of. You do me emotional harm then realize it then try to apologize you way out of it. You need to get a grip before our relationship is no more. This is why I think about getting away from you because I don’t need to be imprisoned, I need to be free around you, and in mad love with you. You want to control everything and, it’s been me for such a long time. I’m a damn victory in a battle going on in your freakin’ mind. I don’t like WAR!" I scream for an understanding.

"I’m sorry, Sonya lies again for the umpteenth time. I realize I’m difficult at times where you’re concerned, but I can’t breathe without you. Your mere presence ignites me girl. Our lives mirror each other’s, she feeds. I will not endure losing you" Sonya warns.

"You act as if a conversation or casual contact with anyone other than you is a damn sin. I can’t believe I live the kind of life Lifetime movies are made of, you’re socially selfish" smiling to annoy Sonya’s unprotected feelings.

Sonya sits at the foot of the bed as Mereda pulls into a cross-legged sitting position.

"You can’t jump around…" beginning her emotional attack.

"Jump around. What the hell is that suppose to mean! You know what forget it; FORGET EVERYTHING. I’M MOVING."

"Like hell" Sonya irrational whispers.

A fresh crisp morning’s sun shines through the black lace curtains. Sonya slowly stimulates Mereda awake with a gentle massage beginning at her feet, calves, inside and outside of her edible thighs. A few minutes on her plump rump, the small of her back. Several minutes on her mid back, up to and between her shoulder blades.

"Good morning heartache, Sonya bellows softly. I hope you understand, how much I need you baby, I want to be your every wo-man, wooo, wooo" she passionately howls into Mereda’s ear.

A mile wide smile was something Mereda just couldn’t hide. She slowly rises from under the comforter in all her naked glory, and forgives without saying a word.

"I’m going to make breakfast. I’ll meet you in the kitchen" Mereda mentions, quickly exiting their bedroom.

"I’m still going to be watching you Reda girl, Sonya warns to Mereda’s back. I mean it. I love you and I’m not giving you up to anyone, especially a man" she informs.

With Sonya in the bathroom, Mereda sulks quietly over a bowl of whisked egg whites. She adds 2% Vanilla milk and whisk some more. She could smell the frying pan heating up but couldn’t move to do anything until she’d emotionally walked all the way through her nightmare, knowing that the decision she is about to make could jeopardize her health and or her life. She knows Sonya can be revengeful; it’s why she’s stayed so long.

Could she relocate, without Sonya finding her? Was she willing to begin again, again? Was she willing to let Sonya predict the outcome of her circumstance? All she could think about was what she trapped herself into and how she’s become a victim of an alluring temptation.

She momentarily reminisces about how she and Sonya met in the lobby of the AALU meeting 3 years and 4 months ago. Though she didn’t know where the emotion came from, she felt Sonya was a dominating personality, that she was hot!

"Come an’ eat" I holler.

"I’ll be right there" Sonya hollers back.

They sit to a peaceful vanilla candle scented breakfast which includes white wine, deep-fried Salmon patties and soft scrambled light egg whites. Sonya and Mereda always kept it royal no matter what.

After breakfast, Sonya dresses in a silk double-breasted Cerulean pantsuit then exits the condo.

She situates her Hanes Her Way into the soft leather of her dark blue Navigator.

She PINs unlocked her MetroPCS, "I hope you forgive me" she charms to Mereda who is donned in a sleeveless flair-bottom dress with soft pastel colors and complementing sandals.

"I really have" I try to reassure her as I round Peachtree Street, twenty minutes later, in my silver Lancer LE, trying to hold my cell and my cappuccino.

"You don’t sound real sure whether or not you do."

"You owe me a lot of making up this time for all the stuff you said. Now this time you actually laid hands on me so that right there might break your ass, I joke, seriously. I want a single pink rose on my desk every morning for six months plus one on the door step when I arrive home. Sonya picks up a second cell, 'Hold on', and immediately makes the necessary arrangements. I want to go to St. Croix."


"And a two story house with a big ass yard. I’m tired of living in that condo. Something where I can have all the animals I want, make as much noise as possible and be a naked as a jay bird, I giggle, seriously. Let’s see, a town, a country…"

"Hold up, is that it?"

"Maybe the whole freakin’ world. A trust-fund baby can handle that can’t she."

"No problem" Sonya assures, then disconnects before Mereda could go on.

They always enter the parking garage at the same time though they take different routes. Mereda exits her LE and saunters over to Sonya who is double-clicking her alarm.

"Mereda I need to know something" picking invisible lint from Mereda’s shoulders.


"Is this guy you’re meeting today the one from yesterday. They stop walking. Is he a threat to me. The truth."

"You can’t handle the truth" I mock, imitating Jack Nicholson, trying to be funny.

"Try me" not altering the stern ready-for-war stance she’s held since last night; not one bit.

"To answer your questions; Yes" walking away to enter the building alone.

"That’s what I thought" Sonya responds, putting pep in her step.

Mereda places her poster out front for two lunch time presentations: TALES FROM THE COAST 1:30/3:30 today. She walks into the glass office and situates her day’s agenda. She walks through the library being of assistance and re-shelving books until 11:40.

For lunch she ignores Sonya and, she, Danlia, Carlos and Starr eat in the Federal Building’s cafeteria, across the street, where Starr’s father Federal Judge Winston Daniels always picks up the check.

At 1 o’clock Mereda begins to set up her display; a chimney with a sign that reads: The Hermit of Essex Coast along with a photo of McEvers Bayard Brown, The Maco Light with a photo of Joe Baldwin with and without his head and an assortment of ghastly historic photos; The Wilmington Murder 1760 including photos of Llewellyn Markwick and a replica of his infamous ring.

By 1:30 there are over 40 plus in attendance, so she begins.

"Your attention people. Not everyone who inhabits Jekyll lives in a state of perpetual happiness. This chimney, pointing to the display, is all that remains of the cottage of Bayard Brown, original member of the Jekyll Island Club. He built the cottage of Jekyll, overlooking the marshes; erecting a bridge to reach the isolated residence. He built a stable for his horses and furnished the cottage elegantly for his bride-to-be, which never came about. The eccentric millionaire was known as ‘the Hermit of the Essex Coast’ in England.

At 37 he exiled from America on his yacht Valfreyia; unreciprocated love was said to be the cause of his renouncing his native land for 36 years. His yacht engines were always in readiness for a sea voyage, and his crew of 18 waited in vain for the order to be put to sea. Mr. Brown’s fortune includes an income of over a million dollars a year. He was generous. He frequently tossed gold souvenirs from his yacht for anyone to pick up. Anyone who mentioned America in his presence was dismissed. He died in 1926 requesting that his body be returned to America on the Valfreyia. All that remains of the memory of McEvers Bayard Brown, New York Banker, is a chimney, decaying and falling apart." The applause was a gentle roar as not to disturb the other patrons.

"Second, we have The Maco Light. One rainy night in the Spring of 1867, the conductor, Joe Baldwin was tidying up the rear coach as it was approaching the homestretch into Willington. Holding his lantern in front of his body, he prepares to step forward into the next car, pulls open the heavy door and begins to swing his lantern back and forth, back and forth, Mereda says in an eerie voice, as the huge fiery eye of the approaching train grew larger and larger, closer and closer. The thick fog and dark night thwarted his signaling attempts and with a terrific impact the two trains slam into one another, slapping her hands together, startling the audience.

In the collision the conductor’s head was ripped from his body. Oohs and aaahs are covered with trembling hands.

Over the years on dark rainy nights a strange lantern light can be seen swinging from side to side along the tracks; it’s Joe Baldwin haunting the tracks looking for his severed head. The end."

After the applause quiets a bit, "Here’s one more. A Wilmington Murder 1760. In the year 1760 a young, personable gentleman, Llewellyn Markwick came to settle in a seaport city along North Carolina’s coast. Markwick always claimed to have relatives among the titled families of the old country. He wore a unique ring, which was in the shape of a snakes’ body with a large diamond clasped between its jaws, which he told all who would listen was a duplicate of his family crest. A great lover of horses, young Markwick rode off one afternoon never to return. No clues were ever found to his disappearance for eight years.

In the summer of 1768 a great rainstorm brought a 24-hour deluge of water flooding the streets. One of Markwick’s friends noticed a brightly shining object alongside the street still attached to a bony hand which was still attached to a skeleton which turned out to be Markwick who was murdered with a bullet embedded in his skull. No one was ever charged with Markwick’s murder. An indentation where the skeleton was found always remained in spite of efforts to fill it up to street level until a hard surface pavement improved it. The end. Everyone feel free to view the displays and thank you for your interest and time. I have to get back to my library duties. Thanks for your attendance." I smile, shake a few hands.

Jonathan arrives at six o’clock as scheduled and Sonya greets him at the entrance.

"How are you this fine day" she fakes interest.

"Fine" he dismisses trying to step around her.

"Looking for Mereda?"

"Yes" still trying to get passed her.

"Come, let me talk to you for a moment, before you meet Mereda. Sonya guides Jonathan gently by his shoulder to an isolated area and they sit on the cushion benches. Your name?"

"Jonathan" he whispers, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Jonathan, there’s something I have to tell you and I think it be best if I tell you right now. I have a vested interest in Mereda’s happiness. She’s a very dear friend to me and I don’t want to see her emotionally hurt. The last person, excuse me, gentleman she was with really broke her heart. Stopping his attempted interruption with a well manicured five fingernails, I’m not saying you two are getting involved but just think about keeping it platonic. That’s what she really needs right now. Mereda glances up to see them in conversation. Well that’s all I have to tell for now. There’s your girl" as if giving away a trophy at a Spelling Bee. Mereda noticeably weary, simply smiles.

Mereda and Jonathan stroll the well-kept rows talking about life full of common interest.

"Have you ever been to St. Tropez?"

"No, but I’ve heard it is geographically one of the most breath-taking locations on earth to behold. The colorful books don’t do it justice. Hopefully I’ll get there one day. I’d like to buy a bikini from one of the local beachfront shops and splash around in the warm water."

"You talk like you don’t expect it to be possible."

"I don’t really think about it much" I shrug off.

"Well we’re going to have to change that."

Sonya walks up faking a library-related inquiry, "Remember my advice Jonathan, she winks. Mereda are the jackets for the DVDs in alpha order" walking away before I can answer.

"What. What was all that about, I blush. I was meaning to ask about that conversation you two were having earlier.

"It was nothing, just some FYI she thought’d be useful. I won’t hold it against you" he charms.

Meriwether decides that Jonathan falls under the category of ‘Gentleman rapist slash serial killer’ because though his crimes are forced, he actually believes that Jonathan actually believes the sex is somehow consensual. His profile of Jonathan Wayne Bryers also includes him being narcissistic; believing his is superior to women in general and law enforcement in particular. He believes he can’t get caught so he engages in greater risk taking. Oklahoma City, Atlantic City and Kansas City; hides several bodies in alley dumpsters. New Jersey, Ohio and Philadelphia; leaves numerous bodies in the apartments of the victims. Phoenix, California and Texas; multiple female bodies are found in public parks, all attributed to his profile. His survivor, Atlanta, Georgia, left sitting in her car in a dinner club’s parking lot; all in a matter of five years. Meriwether knows that his next victim will meet the same fate; or will she be forced to conspire.

3 months after consummating a most interesting relationship, Jonathan and Mereda cavort St. Tropez’s sandy brown beach, in the midnight hour.

"Aaahhh, this is truly magnificent" I exhale.

"Mereda you deserve the very best after what you went through for us to be here together at this time. I am intent on giving it to you. One day I’ll tell you all about this man whose heart you’ve captured; about my life, what I’m involved with. He could tell from the way she made love to him that she was inexperience, emotionally. His control would come by gradually introducing her to sexual domination beyond her understanding. This one might be worth keeping; alive. Knowing she longs to please him she’d simply comply. Jonathan figures to take her little by little, deeper and deeper, as often as he could until she’d do any and everything he wanted; even concealing his murderous desires. He lifts her with his masculine arms. Twirls her around to gently lay her on the warm sand. Let me understand something. When I first spoke with Sonya I got the impression that you two were more than co-workers and roommates. Don’t tell me whether I was wrong or right, holding up one hand, I don’t care. Mereda baby, I am very secure in life. I have a little money, no kids, no exs waiting to exhale, I’m good looking, he smiles and baby, he whispers as I melt from the intense heat of his charm, and I love the features of your stunning face, I could look at you forever."

"I hear you darling, trying to comprehend the meaning behind his revelations. Keep talking, I’m listening."

"Will you marry me Ms. Mereda?"

Overcome by his sudden proposal mixing it with the thought of Sonya’s revenge once she finds out, I stand to stroll through the crisp warm breeze, alone, with the brilliant twinkling night sky as a backdrop to my uneasy splendor. She runs her fingers through her now silky straight black hair, while looking up to heaven, winking back at the twinkling stars, opening herself up to what she feels is so right for her; but either way could cost her her life.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME IF I MARRY YOU" letting the wind carry to him her message.


"OH, IS THAT RIGHT, as his words float right over her head."


"WELL GET OVER HERE" she gracefully orders, radiating with happiness but confused with temptation.

Jonathan catches Mereda to stand her still, to draw a circle around her; to close her in.

He steps in, "I Jonathan Bryers, do hereby under the stars God has created, take Mereda Jackson, to be my eternal companion, through and about everything love includes, revealing her passions yet keeping her secrets. Repeat."

"I Mereda Jackson do hereby, under the stars which God has created take, Jonathan Bryers to be, my eternal companion, through and about, everything love includes; keeping his secrets yet revealing his passions."

They embrace, overflowing with each other’s commitment. The meaningful kisses and passionate caresses he supplies allows Mereda a flooding orgasm.

Days later they have a beautiful private ceremony with only the Armani-clad minister and his up-kept missus as witnesses.

Six months into the marriage, Mereda is having her circular six-room, 3 bath, single level, constructed mostly of tempered glass home decorated to her specific style and taste. 15 four foot tall pine trees are planted throughout her 4 acres of lush land as rockin’ Tina Turner blares from her state-of-the-art plasma stereo, "Big wheels keep on turning’, proud Mary keeps on burnin’, and I’m rollin’. Rollin’ rollin’ yeah, rollin’ down the river" she boogies along with Tina.

Her phone chimes; "Yes?"

"I need to see you."

"Not now. What to tell you I don’t know but that we can’t continue in this violent friendship. Sonya if I can accept this then you can too."

"You went off you crazy bitch and got married to that punk-ass nigga who you lied about being with while we were trying to reconcile and told me after the fact and your response is for me to get over it. Okay bitch just wait; I’m about to have to get over yo’ dead ass!"

"Why are you threatening me! If you fool with me Jonathan will deal with…"

"Jonathan won’t be around to deal with a damn thing!"

"So now you’re threatening my husband?"

"You, are, not, going to, believe, what’s about, to happen. I’ll inform your husband that you were my wife first before I slit his god-awful throat."

"He doesn’t care about that, wondering if he really would. I already told him" I lie.

"Well maybe he just needs to hear it from me" and slams the receiver back into its cradle.

"Ms. Thomas I’m glad you gave me a call" Agent Meriwether says.

"I’ve been faithful to America’s Most Wanted since it began; I always knew that one day I’d get to put a monster behind bars."

"Absolutely. How exactly do you know Mr. Bryers?"

"He’s married to my ex-best friend. We severed relationship ties because of him. Something just didn’t sit right about him to me and she couldn’t see passed his handsome face. He’s out of the country on some sort of business at the moment. Since we’re still civil I might be able to get his return date" Sonya informs, glad she’d been on the internet that weekend.

"You’ve been remarkable. This murdering bastard need to be stopped right now."

"Why do you think he hasn’t killed Mereda" Sonya inquires.

"One can never tell what’s going on in another’s mind; she’s doing something right" he smiles to himself.

Ring, rrriiinnnggg, rrriiinnnggg.


"Is Mr. Bryers available?"

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Custard Harris."

"Custard as in pie, Harris?"

"Yes" not impressed at her pun.

"He’s not in now. He should be arriving soon. Can I give him a message for you?"

"Certainly. Tell him to bring in all 10, 11 and 12 CAD. 7am, conference room B."

"Yes sir. I’ll get it to him" I assure, disconnecting his abruptness.

Unbeknownst to her, Jonathan has hired Reese, House & Stein to battle for leniency, seeing an acquittal was not an option; it was only one charge of kidnapping that they could barely prove. The charges in Agent Merewether's file listed aggravated rape, aggravated sexual assault and almost 27 counts of capital murder that can’t be proven; plus they missed some.

Mr. Harris had just hung up from a conference call with Roberson and Meriwether, all agreeing for 4am arrival. The undercovers would be sitting suit-and-tied in the lobby.

Jonathan’s professional life as Market slash Accounts Director for Wilkins, Young & Wilson has earned him bragging rights amongst Corporate America’s elite; power lunches at Spago’s, thousand dollar tailored suits and multiple growing mutual funds. His Morehouse education, acclamations, social circle and sheer eagerness to succeed is well disciplined in six feet four inches of ideal sexual attraction.

"8 o’clock, my baby should be home shortly" I coo, spraying on two squirts of Aspen for Women.

She dances from room to humongous room, shaking and making sure everything is in its place.

Jonathan blows into the house as Mereda exits the bathroom, "Hey my husband, you have a very important message baby. Sounds important."

"It can wait until you bring me those big juicy lips and tell me how you’ve been since I’ve been away; it’s been a week girl. That’s what’s important" placing his briefcase on the sofa.

"Sure baby. I’ve had a groovy time; my book just hit the National Bestseller’s list, so my agent tells. I need to meet my publisher in New York City on Wednesday, is that cool with you, always considering his feelings. I’ll have to leave Tuesday night" patting her ‘private’ and sliding her hand up around her perky breast, leaving little of her voluptuousness to his monstrous imagination.

"Now that’s what I call beautiful baby, unloosening his silk black and beige designer tie. Well I guess I’ll be pulling extra hours Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. So what is my VIM?"

"Custard Harris insists you bring in 10, 11, 12 CADs, 7am conference room B" handing him the written note.

"Alright. I’m taking you out. Give me an hour to get myself together."

Jonathan disappears into his private, private study, leaving a trail of expensive clothes.

"Hey Sonya. How are you doing" Mereda whispers softly.

"I don’t have any other choice but to be all right at this point. This past year has given me time to clear my head and focus on moving forward. Did you call for a talk or…"

"Jonathan’s in the shower."

"You two going out."

"Yes, as usual."

"Have a great time, Sonya wishes but not sincerely wanting them to. We need to talk Reda."

"I can tell Jonathan that I have to run an errand and be there in a few minutes."

"Girl you are insane. You aint trying to set a sister up are you. I remember all that mess that was said and…"

"Girl meet me at the library so we can talk."


Emotionally, physically, sexually, Mereda’s life is a swirling wind of firecrackers exploding; exploding in her head as Jonathan reaches and Sonya surrenders. Mereda is an ALLURING TEMPTATION.

The End; no, to be continued.

Kim Wilson

The End

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