JASMINE

By D. Wayne

Jasmine Langston is like so many women. Her life resembles a song of heartache that makes her want to pull her hair out if she has to live in this repetitive cycle. Jasmine believes that love and romance are as easy as finding a guy that she is attracted to, getting to know him better, and living happily ever after. She quickly finds out that trying to secure true love is more challenging. When she experiences agony and heartbreak, her outlook for the possibility to find that love changes. Jasmine devises a new plan of action, which she believes will insulate her from being a victim of a broken heart ever again. Through her journey, she learns that sometimes a plan is only as good as its intention. After years of wrong turns and dead ends, she learns a valuable lesson about love but is also left with one burning question. Is love supposed to be eagerly sought after and found or is it something that is supposed to find you?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: May 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781619846821

Book preview

Jasmine

D. Wayne

D. Wayne

www.dwaynepublishing.com

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. For information

regarding written permission write to

www.dwaynepublishing.com

Copyright © 2016 by Dennis Gillespie

Cover Design © 2016 by Jackson, JxnGraphix.com

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-194478363-1

2nd Edition 2017

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

entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Notes from the Author

While you are reading Jasmine’s story, identify character traits of the protagonist that you can relate to and that grab your attention. Use the silhouette in the back of the book as you read to jot down clues, hints and ideas. Throughout the novel, you, as the reader, are trying to determine from the notes you’ve recorded in the silhouette, Jasmine’s character. Hopefully, in the end you will have drawn an insightful conclusion as to who you think Jasmine really is.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

The story of my life and that of so many other women has been told many times before; so much so that if it were a song and I heard it one more time, I would claw my eyeballs out. Figuratively speaking of course, but that is to say I’m just tired of being tired. I’m thirty-two years old and it makes me sick to my stomach to find myself pretty much in the same predicament as I was in over fifteen years ago, or maybe it just seems that way. I suppose I should start from the beginning so you can grasp the full understanding of what I’m talking about.

My mother and father were never married but they lived together until I was three. After the break-up, my mother and I moved to Norfolk, Virginia. That’s where it all began, the city in which my journey began to take shape. Everything started innocently enough. Sitting in my eleventh grade science class, a note was passed from the back of the class and placed on my desk. It’s embarrassing to say now, but when I turned around and identified who had passed the note, I knew at that moment that he was going to get into my panties. Derrick Campbell was his name, and although we had passed each other hundreds of times in the hall, we had never spoken a direct word to each other. He was sexy as hell, maybe a tad bit over six feet tall. His bluish-gray eyes looked as though they had been painted on. His body was cut perfectly for his frame and his smile could only be described as sweet. I had already been sucked in, but it was his hair that sealed the deal. He had that natural, fine hair, a mixture of curls and waves that made me want to run my hands through it. I had always noticed him and he already had a melting effect on me, albeit in the form of a fantasy.

I never in my craziest dreams thought he would notice me. I mean, why would he? I was average height and I wore those old-style braces that resembled a bicycle chain. My feet were oversized for someone with my petite frame, and my hair was unmanageable most of the time. It always seemed that I could never do anything with it. I had a permanent scar across the bridge of my nose from running into a door in the dark when I was twelve. I suppose if I were forced to point out a positive attribute about myself, it would have been that I had a set of cute dimples that made their presence known whenever I smiled. I didn’t think I was anything special, just ordinary, the way I saw it. I always seemed to get compliments though, and if I let my mother tell it, Halle Berry didn’t have anything on me. There’s nothing like a mother’s love, right? While walking up the hall after science class that day, I heard Derek yell out to me. Recognizing his voice and realizing he was referring to me made my heart skip a beat.

Hey wait up, he shouted.

Are you yelling at me? I asked.

No I’m not. I mean yeah, I’m trying to get your attention, he answered.

Well, how may I help you?

It was important for me to appear confident. I did not want to show how excited I was that he had chosen to talk to me.

Hey Slim, I just wanted to ask if it would be okay if I walked you to your next class, he said.

He didn’t know it, but I despised being called slim. I wanted to say something to him, but I didn’t because I was already craving the feeling of how awesome it was that he had chosen to talk me. That was a very pivotal point in my life, but I think this part of my story would be best served if we revisited it later. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll come back to it.

Sure. I’m on my way to English Lit in the East Wing, I answered.

Ok, cool. I’ll be your escort for the rest of the day—if of course, that’s okay with you? he asked.

Sure, I said as I showed him my class schedule for the rest of the day. He even carried my books for me.

Here you are, English Lit, East Wing, he said as he presented me with a bow in an attempt to be cute.

Thank you for the escort. My books, please, I responded, trying desperately to control my blushing.

Okay, I’ll be back in exactly sixty minutes to get you and walk you to—uh let’s see, your math class, second floor, right?

You got it, I answered as I walked into class.

Sixty minutes later the bell rang and he was true to his word. There he stood with his arms folded across his chest, elbows pointed outward like an usher at church. It was cute, funny, and surprising all at the same time, only in a way that had never happened to me before. I was flattered, to say the least, because, truth be told, based on how I viewed myself, I initially thought maybe the whole thing was a joke. Maybe I was a bit hard on myself based on how I believed I looked and the type of guy I thought would be interested in me. Like I said, I didn’t think I was anything special, and if I had to rate myself back then, I would probably say I was average at best.

So, I see you’ve returned, I said.

Of course I did. Did you think I wouldn’t?

Not really. You said you would return and I have no reason to believe you wouldn’t, I answered.

I was lying when I implied to Derrick that I thought he would return because at that point in my life, I was a card-carrying pessimist. Regardless of how sweet and kind Derrick seemed, I was all but certain that someone was going to jump around the corner and yell April fools! but that never happened. As time went on, our relationship began to grow and Derrick asked me to be his girlfriend. At first I was just flattered, but as time passed, I ended up falling head over heels for him. I had turned the corner from just thinking he was cute. In a short time my feelings for him were something I had never felt before. I hadn’t ever even dreamed that I could attract the attention of someone like Derrick. I mean, here was this hot, gorgeous, popular, athletic guy and he had chosen me as his girl.

The mere thought of that happening to me catapulted my self-esteem into an unfamiliar stratosphere. I didn’t just like him any longer, I invested all that I was into him. My emotions were on a cloud I didn’t know existed and my tender, sweet, loving spirit was on a collision course with first love. I was like an open book. I wore everything about myself and all that I felt about Derrick on my sleeve. I thought it was important to let him know how I felt. I entrusted him to do the right thing and to my amazement he got off to a good start by spoiling me at every turn. He left romantic notes in my locker. He wrote me poems that made me tingle inside. He flattered me with compliments every day.

I was floating amongst the clouds and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was all because of Derrick.

The way I felt about him was almost indescribable, one of those feelings that, even though you know how it feels, you have a hard time explaining it. I know, because I tried with my friend Lisa a number of times. The best explanation that I could provide was that Derrick had somehow seeped into the blood that ran through my veins and it was as pure as the way he made me feel. I was a little more than half way through my eleventh-grade year, and I was proud to tell anyone who would listen that I was in love. I was barely sixteen years old and talking about love like I really knew what it was. To be honest, my knowledge on the topic was based solely on the way I felt about Derrick and the way he made me feel.

I realize how simple that sounds but it was more than enough for me at the time. I was on the ride of my young life and all I had to bring along was my loving heart and sweet disposition. The best part was that it didn’t cost a thing. It was as free as the flowing spirit that ran through me.

I guess we were about four months into our relationship when Derrick approached me with a proposition that would take us to where I knew we would end up the first day we officially met. He was cute in the way he asked, nervous but cute. In fact, when the words came out of his mouth I could hear the cracking in his voice. I wanted to hear him ask me again. Hearing him ask me if I would make love to him gave me a small sense of control. Regardless of how short lived that moment was, it was a good feeling. I had never been in control of anything before. So, I responded with a question.

What did you say?

His voice cracking a bit more than the first time, he asked again, Will you make love to me?

That was the most beautiful phrase I had ever heard. Not because I was excited about doing it, because I assure you that the mere thought made me nervous as hell. The excitement came from the fact that he wanted to make love to me. He could have chosen anyone, but he didn’t – he chose me. He was mine; all mine. I knew because he had told me as much. I’m not sure if he knew it but I was super crazy about him. I wanted to make love to him more than anything in the world. I’m sure it was based solely on the way I felt about him. I was in love with him. I’d never had sex before, so of course I was nervous, but I was one hundred percent sure I wanted to because I knew it would please Derrick.

So, when and where is this supposed to take place? I asked.

His face lit up like a full moon as he asked, Does that mean you’re saying yes?

That means I’m saying maybe, I answered.

Okay, ‘maybe’ is good! At least it’s not ‘no.’ But is ‘maybe’ leaning towards ‘yes,’ or ‘no’? he asked.

Let’s just say that, in this case, ‘maybe’ is a good thing, I said bashfully.

Can I quote you? he asked with a nervous grin.

Please do.

A week went by, and I didn’t say another word about it. And I must give Derrick credit; for the most part, neither did he. He threw hints here and there, but he never pressured me. I strung him along for a while, and then I decided not to prolong the inevitable any longer. We set a date for Saturday night, which was four nights away. I used that time to set the stage using my imagination. In my mind, it was going to be a beautiful evening. I anticipated that he would pick a beautiful setting. I thought that we would hold each other, saying things to one another that would gave each of us chills. I anticipated that once I revealed it was my first time he would be gentle and reassure me that everything would be okay and he would take his time.

The four days went by faster than a flash of light. Saturday came and, at first, Derrick appeared to be a perfect gentleman. He picked me up in his blue and gray beat-up Buick Regal, and he didn’t honk the horn as I had anticipated, but got out of the car, walked to my front door, and rang the doorbell. I nervously opened the door, but he was cool and collected as he said, Your chariot awaits. He opened my door, ensured that I got in safely, and we were off. He drove to a deserted area near Sunny Grove Park which was next to a cemetery. He parked the car, climbed in the back seat and beckoned for me to follow. That was where my fantasies ended.

The stage I had set in my mind may as well have been on the moon because that was about the distance between what I had in mind and what actually happened. Dialogue was non-existent, and his idea of foreplay was taking his clothes off, then helping me take mine off. I was disappointed and somewhat dejected, but in fear of creating an awkward moment I put a smile on my face and joined him in the back seat.

His hormones were revved up, and I could clearly see that he was ready to pounce. He was aggressive in his approach as he began to grab and squeeze my breast as though he was checking for the ripeness of a melon. I wanted to scream out in pain, but the fear of seeming immature only allowed a grunt to escape my mouth. I hoped that he would notice and realize that he was hurting me. He must have, or maybe it was divine intervention, because moments later his grip eased up. He began to stroke my breast in a gentle smooth manner while sliding his moist tongue across my nipples. The moisture from his tongue sent a cool chill down my spine. The sensation put me at ease and allowed me to enjoy the moment. The moment only lasted a minute though, before he thrust his hand between my legs and began to force his index finger into me.

The feeling was unlike anything I had ever felt before. He began to dig and poke around inside of me as though he was panning for gold. I clenched my teeth and my body tensed up. I wanted to scream for him to stop. My untouched womanhood was as dry as a bone and at the time I thought I couldn’t take it any longer. Finally, he pulled his finger out. The relief was instant but the second I began to enjoy it, the thought hit me that if his finger felt that horrible, then the insertion of his dick would probably kill me. But my mind was made up and regardless of what I had to endure, short of leaping to my death, I was all in. Besides, I felt I had already gone past the point of no return, so I couldn’t turn back even if I wanted to.

Minutes later, I gave away my innocence to a guy that I was crazy about. It was a moment I will remember for the rest of my life. Derrick had my back pinned to the seat of his old Buick Regal and my head was pressed against the armrest while he continued to grope my body. All the while he tried to force his dick into me which seemed about three sizes too small. When we were done, I ended up thanking the Almighty that it was over, and despite the beating my inner walls had taken, I was happy that I had made love for the first time. The most incredible part was that I had done it with a guy I absolutely adored. I admit, the whole ordeal didn’t play out the way