Diary of A. . .

Diary Of A...

Sylvia Hubbard

Sensual Noir/Romance/Erotic Intrigue

Published by HubBooks Literary Services at
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Copyright 2010 Sylvia Hubbard

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Edited by Suprina Frazier

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales, is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be
reproduced in any form without permission.

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For information address:

Sylvia Hubbard | PO Box 43439, Detroit, MI
48243

Visit her website at:
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Diary of A….

Transposed by Sylvia Hubbard for for Sheryl
Banks

Author’s Notes to Readers

First I’d like to thank three special people
in my life. My children. They are the encouraging fire that gives
me the ability to get my butt out of bed. I think the formula for
the fountain of youth is not somewhere in this world, but to have
three children of various ages and genders.

They keep your mind young and your reflexes
sharp and “their ceaseless in entertainment” according to my
mother. (I think she’s just being sarcastic and having fun watching
me pay for what my siblings and I did to her.)

As for writing this book, this was my first
novel in first person. I’m more of a third person kind of writer
and I had to fool myself to do a first person. Hence, I made it
feel as if the main character, Sheryl is writing her story in a
journal and you, the honored reader gets to read it. In her head,
Sheryl doesn’t mind you reading her inner most thoughts because she
wanted to tell someone, just not someone close. A girl’s got to
have some secrets and Sheryl doesn’t tell business to just
anyone.

Just a warning to readers of my previous
work, you will meet Lethal Heart in here. Yes, I know that gets you
excited (if you’re an old reader). And yes, he’ll have his day
soon, but this is just to suffice until I can bring that story into
fruition.

Enjoy, Your Author:
Sylvia Hubbard

Entry One

I don’t know if I would call myself a whore.
Maybe a freak, though it all just seems so nasty to admit, but not
nasty to be one. LOL.

I wasn’t always like this. Matter of fact, I
didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one, around my birthday
and it was with my best friend. Rick and I had been best friends
since sixth grade. He even dated my first best friend, Monica.

Their relationship ended once we all
graduated from high school. Monica chose to leave the state and go
to Spellman, while Rick and I had a variety of scholarships to go
to Michigan State University. I had taken a lot of accelerated
courses and overloaded myself in high school, so I received my
bachelors by the time I was nineteen and a half.

Rick and I moved in together by our third
year of college in a one-bedroom apartment to offset the costs. Our
parents were cool with it. Matter of fact, my mother thought for
sure Rick and I would eventually get married.

He was damn handsome. Without the moustache,
Rick could have been Morris Chestnut’s younger brother and I was
the envy of the campus. Yet our relationship stayed platonic. Not
because I wasn’t attracted to him, but because I think we both
feared that if we took it further we might mess up a really good
friendship.

I don’t really know how it all happened. The
day before my 21st birthday, I turned in my master’s thesis and
knew I was done with college. I was so elated that Rick and I went
out to celebrate. Though I wasn’t a drinker and Rick was just a
social drinker, we still knew how to have a good time together.

Next thing I knew, we were lying on his bed,
back at our apartment, kissing. I think we kissed for two days all
over each other’s body, avoiding the sexual parts.

By the third day, we had progressed to
deeper oral. Rick was such a good teacher. I wasn’t drunk anymore
with alcohol and I wanted to take our relationship to the next
level. Rick didn’t mind at all.

“Take it slow, Sheryl,” he gritted out, so
aroused by not having any relief.

I was taken aback when he erupted in my
mouth and almost choked. Yet by the fourth day, I could swallow not
only his essence, but I was deep-throating like Linda Lovelace.

That was also the day I lost my virginity.
Rick guided me to straddle him and I slowly lowered down, filling
myself up with his thickness. I was so aroused and wanton, but also
terrified and scared.

It hurt only briefly due to my moistness and
as I used my weight and was able to control the strokes, I felt
more confident in the whole matter.

He tenderly edged me on; caressing my
breasts, whispering my name, instructing me on how to give him
pleasure and receive it, , as well.

I don’t know any woman I’ve ever met that
said she had an orgasm on her first time, but I did. Matter of
fact, I had multiples! Rick was a wonderful lover and he spent a
summer teaching me everything there was to know about sex.

I was offered a job in Florida and it was an
excellent opportunity for me career-wise. We had a long talk about
it and Rick said to go ahead and take the job.

There was the phone, and since we were such
good friends before sex, we found a great deal to speak about. We
dealt with the separation sexually a little at a time until we were
back to friends again.

I was even comfortable with Rick telling me
how he was dating and sleeping with other women. I understood. I
had no ties to him. It was okay with me that he didn’t have any
ties to me.

I found myself using men for pleasure while
I devoted most of my time moving up in the company I worked for.
Truthfully, men were just time passers, where I could get that inch
scratched at will. I never took any of them serious while I worked
in Florida. Nor did I pick up any really close girlfriends because
I was such a workaholic. I mean, there were co-workers that I hung
out with from time to time, but no one that I could really open up
to about my personal life.

I’ve always felt that black people, which is
what I am, spent too much time trying to make friends at work. I
feel that if you don’t sign my paycheck, why the hell should I
share what I’ve been doing in my free time with you? I go to work
to get a check and that’s it. Nothing more and nothing less.

Anyway, so Rick not getting jealous about me
sleeping with this guy and that guy made our relationship kind of
cool. It was definitely helpful that I could talk to him about
stuff like that. And like I said before, it was all-cool when he
went into details about his lovers, as well.

That is until he called me two years after I
had been in Florida and told me that he was getting married. That
kind of got under my skin.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

He sighed, but answered, “Cassie.”

“How do you like her?”

“I love her.” He sounded sincere.

“She’s cool, Sheryl. You’d like her. I think
you’d both make good friends.”

“Does she make you happy, Rick?”

He teased, “Never like you, Sheryl, but
she’ll do.”

We laughed about it. By the time we got off
the phone seven hours later, I was okay about everything. Thank
gawd for free nights and weekends.

Of course Rick asked me was I seeing
anybody, but there was never a permanent guy in my life. Only
others. Rick was one of my best lovers. Not just because he was the
first, but because he genuinely knew how to make love to a woman. I
was positive his wife would never have a problem with his bedroom
skills.

In Florida, before I got into a high-level
supervisory position, my co-workers and I loved to go to Thursday
Ladies Nights at all the clubs. Free admission until eleven and
free drinks, as well. Since I still was not a drinker, I was
usually the designated driver for everyone. So of course I was
treated to a lot of things and used to being pampered all the
time.

When the company I worked for made some
major changes, they asked me to move back to Michigan to oversee a
key project three months after my 30th birthday. I would get a
great salary and, of course, they would fund my move, along with a
company car of my choosing. I chose a light gray Chrysler 500. It
was art on wheels and just getting into it the first time made me
moist.

I found a great house in Eastpointe,
Michigan, which was only minutes away from Detroit. It was a
three-bedroom ranch style house with a pool and a big backyard.

The neighbors recommended a person to help
with the landscaping. Chris was even a great “fixer” around the
house. He reminded me of an older version of Colin Farrell without
the accent and all the cursing.

Like any white man, Chris was all business
with me and I was all business with him. A white man didn’t
intimidate me like they did my girlfriends. I worked with them all
day long.

I was good at my job and taken very
serious.

Being only five foot four, I was stuck on
stupid for heels with everything because I was short. Thickly built
at a size twelve – fourteen during Aunt Dottie’s visits – with a
small waist at a hundred and forty pounds. Even though I worked
out, I was thick boned and just accepted the way I was built. I
kept my hair very short in an Afro, curly cut and just recently
dyed in a dark honey brown that brought out the honey brown in my
flawless skin tone.

With an angelic face, big brown sultry eyes,
and sensual dark pink lips, I knew I looked good. I had a nice butt
and a medium size chest – not too busty but enough to say, ‘Hey,
I’m woman. Hear me roar, mother-fucker!’

Coming back to Detroit, I was reunited with
my high school friends.

Rick and I had always kept in touch, but he
liked keeping his marriage life separate from me. I understood his
position and didn’t want to ruffle any feathers in his nest. We
mostly communicated through emails, text messaging or long phone
calls back and forth to work. I always sent him something for his
birthday to his job, making sure I used either a plain white
envelope or something from the store for a gift certificate or
pass. Every once in a while we got together and had a cup of coffee
somewhere discreet, talking and enjoying each other’s company.

Now that I’ve caught you up, I can tell you
why this blog is called Diary of A…. Well I don’t even know yet,
but you decide.

Entry Two

Not much is happening right now in my life.
Since moving to Detroit, my life’s been really hectic.

On top of that, today I lost my secretary.
She got homesick for Florida and changed her mind about staying in
Detroit. Being carjacked last night didn’t help matters.

Since I’ve been so busy just getting my life
together while in Detroit, I haven’t been able to post. But Monday,
I promise I’ll have more to say in this journal of mine.

Thank you for enjoying the ride.

Sheryl Banks.

Entry Three

I’ve dated more than one man at a time.

As a professional single woman, I found that
a meaningful relationship while you’re trying to knock everyone off
the top in your career is inane and takes up too much time. So I
find guys I can date, but I’ve never wanted to have a meaningful
relationship with any of them.

When I started to hit the big 3-0, I began
really thinking that I needed to settle down. Maybe even have a few
kids…maybe. But after I passed the 3-0, I was like; I could wait a
few more years, right?

So I’ve never told a man, I love you, except
to Rick. But at the time, I couldn’t make up my mind whether I
loved him as a friend or as a lover. I think I loved him as both,
but I never took the time to really examine it.

Could that be why he didn’t wait for me? Or
even come to Florida?

It’s way too late to think about that now.
Plus, it’s not worth wasting the little time we spend on the phone
to ask.