Read the Warning Label First Read online

  Read the Warning Label First

  B.M. Hardin

  Savvily Published LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2015© B.M. Hardin

  ISBN-10:0991528190

  ISBN-13:978-0-9915281-9-6

  This book is solely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons, places, events or locales are coincidental. The story is fictitious therefore a nothing more than a product of the author’s imagination.

  Acknowledgments

  First, God has blessed me with this talent and it is to him that I give thanks and honor for allowing me to borrow such an extraordinary gift.

  Secondly, I’d like to acknowledge my family. They have pushed me even when I didn’t want to be pushed so to all of you I want to say thank you.

  Lastly, I want to acknowledge all of those that help me with my writing. Whether it is editing, proofreading, reading and reviewing, all of you play a major role in my success and with helping me become a better writer and author. To you I say thank you.

  B.M. Hardin-

  Twitter @BMHardin1

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorbm

  Email: [email protected] Attention: BM Hardin

  Read the Warning Label First-2015

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my sisters: Shanta McDowell, Cassandra Jackson, Tangela Brown, Angela Houser and Bethany Campbell(best friend). Though life takes us all on our own journeys, trials and though there are many roads that we all have to travel alone, I am and will always be my sister’s keeper.

  Love you guys to the moon and back and this one is dedicated to all of you!

  ~Smooches~

  Read the Warning Label First

  Chapter One

  Love and happiness…

  Makes me sick!

  Don’t you just hate when you see the perfect little couple, all in public, acting all perfect and stuff?

  I mean just all over each other, kissing, touching and hugging in front of us single folks like its okay.

  It’s disrespectful if you ask me.

  Get a room or something already…geesh!

  Okay, so maybe I do have a little bit of misplaced anger when it came to love and there was no denying that I was just a tad bit jealous and periodically lonely.

  But all of that is beside the point.

  People should be more considerate of single people, instead of reminding people like me, of what we didn’t have.

  I hope they break-up---like today, I thought, as I

  hurriedly walked around the couple that was holding hands and giggling as though nothing else in the world mattered.

  Obviously to them, nothing and no one else did.

  What I wouldn’t give to live that fantasy…but then again, my reality wasn’t all that bad either.

  I was one sexy, intelligent, successful black woman, with no kids, my own house and a career that most people only dreamed about.

  So, yes, my reality was actually quite splendid; except maybe the lack of a love life.

  Did I have a man?

  Nope, I sure didn’t.

  But it wasn’t because I couldn’t get one.

  Trust me, I could definitely get one.

  I guess the truth was that I kind of, on most days, didn’t want one.

  I know, I know, many women say that if they wanted a man they could have one, but unlike most of them I was actually telling the truth!

  Let me explain something, you see without a man, I could spend all of my money, when, where and how I wanted to. No questions asked, no splitting anything down the middle, it was my funds to do as I pleased.

  On top of that, I could do what I wanted to do without having to check in with anyone or having to ask permission. My time was my time and I didn’t have to be considerate with how or where I spent it.

  Oh, but most importantly, I preferred to be single because being by myself meant that I didn’t have to deal with all of the extra that came along with being in a relationship these days.

  You know what I mean by extra right?

  The lying, the cheating, the side chicks and let’s not forget the baby mama drama.

  Mentally, I just wasn’t built for the nonsense. I’ll be the first to admit that a few of my screws were just a tad bit loose and there was no telling what kind of trouble I would be in if I had to deal with some of the mess that other women put up with these days just to hear the words I love you.

  No, thank you, I’ll pass.

  I tell myself “I love you” everyday anyway, so I hear it just as much as anybody else.

  Self –love is the best love; you better ask somebody!

  No one will ever love you better or more than you can love yourself. And believe it or not, people can tell.

  No, but seriously, if being single meant being sane, then I would be cuddling with my satin sheets and my over-sized pillows for the rest of my life.

  Or get a dog or a cat or something.

  I’d worked too hard to be where I was in life and I wasn’t going to get side tracked by chasing that little thing that we called love.

  In a way, to me, it just wasn’t worth it.

  Nothing was worth my peace of mind. It was hard enough keeping it when it came to my line of work.

  I worked in Accounting.

  Short description, I was very, very good with numbers and twice as good at making companies and other people money.

  I made six figures a year, and I knew without a shout of a doubt that I’d earned and that I deserved every single penny of it.

  I was proud to say that I was the Senior Vice President at the best darn accounting firm in all of Washington, D.C.

  I’d started at the bottom, and I’d worked my way to the top with patience, hard work and determination. There were only three people in positions that were higher than mine, and if you asked me, I was probably better at the job then all of them were.

  I was damn good if I must say so myself. And I didn’t mind tooting my own horn.

  Toot. Toot.

  Seriously though, I loved everything about my job.

  Most thought being a top executive meant that I didn’t have to do any hard work but that was a lie. I worked my ass off, more so than most of the people at the company.

  Besides, some of the clients would only work with me. They trusted me and trusted my opinion.

  But all and all, I loved the people, my position, my clients and especially my corner office.

  I was born to do what I did and I gave it my all every single day.

  I’d worked hard for everything that I had and I was finally reaping the benefits of my labor.

  I liked expensive things and I bought whatever made me happy, or at least whatever would make me feel good at that moment.

  Trust me, I had no problem admitting that work, stability, and a big bank account were my top priorities; but it was by choice, at least for now anyway.

  Since I was getting older, I was sure that my priorities in some folk’s eyes were all mixed up, but the order of importance of things was currently working just fine for me.

  And as far as I was concerned, life was good.

  And though most people didn’t believe me, for the most part, I was just fine.

  Finally outside, I hastily got into my car and I drove away as if I had something important to do.

  I didn’t.

  No plans, no man…just me.

  I’d only gone out because I was once told that in order to be seen, you had to be on the scene. Even if you weren’t exactly looking, someone could very well be looking for you.

  So, I always forced myself to get out and try new things and go to different places, in hopes of meeting new peo
ple.

  In only an hour tops, I’d been approached three times, by men that shouldn’t have dared to even come my way.

  I hadn’t given them more than a second or two of my time before I’d made it clear that I wasn’t interested.

  Men were a lot bolder than they used to be, but I was the wrong one to take a chance on if you didn’t have your stuff together.

  If you didn’t step correct, you were simply going to end up with your feeling hurt.

  Rejection is a bitch ain’t it?

  Arriving home, I thought about what it would be like to come home to a husband and a house full of kids. I guess it would have been nice, at times, to be greeted with smiles, hugs and kisses from those who were supposed to love you the most, especially on a night like tonight.

  I couldn’t lie, the thought was nice.

  But in order for that to happen, the whole husband and kids’ thing, not only would I have to find a decent man, which was a hell of a task all by itself, but I would also have to finally allow someone to meet the little lady in pink that lived in between my thighs.

  That’s right, I was knocking on the door of thirty and I wasn’t ashamed to say that I was still a virgin.

  My good stuff had never even been touched by anyone other than myself.

  A piece of wood had never even come close to swimming in my pool of ecstasy.

  No, I wasn’t embarrassed by it and I didn’t mind letting it be known that I was a virgin either.

  I’d been raised by Christian parents.

  And believe me, when I say that they were Christians, I mean C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N-S.

  I’m telling you, they were the real deal.

  They were so saved that you would have thought that they personally sat with Jesus himself, at the Last Supper, and broke bread.

  The lived and breathed every word in the Good Book.

  My parents were so saved that every question and every answer involved Jesus and his peoples.

  Don’t believe me?

  Do you think that I am exaggerating?

  Unfortunately I’m not.

  For example, I could ask a simple question:

  “Mama, how is the weather? Is it hot or cold outside today?”

  And her response would have been:

  “Well, it’s a beautiful day that the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad in it.”

  What?

  That is not what I asked you! I asked you about the weather ma’am!

  But that’s just how it was and that’s not even the half of it!

  My parents followed every word in the Bible and coming up as a child they’d pushed so much religion into me that I was terrified to do anything that I even thought might be a sin.

  It was clear that in their house, we followed their rules. And it wasn’t up for debate or discussion.

  We attended church at minimum, five days a week, and that’s not to mention the in-home Bible studies and other things of that nature.

  But once I went off to college and found out that I wasn’t going to drop dead and go straight to Hell if I did something wrong or if I committed a sin here or there, I decided to let my hair down and live a little.

  I found out that there were so many things that I didn’t know. There were so many things that I hadn’t seen and that I hadn’t been exposed to.

  Not saying that being sheltered is all bad, but because of my upbringing, I learned quickly once in college that I didn’t know a damn thing, about anything!

  So, naturally, I tried a few new things. I really got to know who I was as an individual, instead of being who my parents’ trained me and told me to be.

  But still yet, some things about me stayed the same.

  Some of my standards and morals remained as they were and one thing that never changed was that I refused to give any man my most prized possession until they were deemed a worthy recipient of it.

  I wasn’t exactly sure if I was waiting for marriage or if I was just waiting for something that I could define as or that at least felt real.

  Married or not, only true love would make me spread these legs!

  Though holding out for marriage wouldn’t be a bad thing, the jury was still out on that decision but I didn’t have to decide right now.

  But so far, every man that I’d ever dated had failed the test. They hadn’t been worthy of all of me.

  I had yet to find a man special enough or even deserving enough of my heart, my commitment, or my panties.

  And at this point in my life I didn’t have time, patience or even the energy to even think about giving it to anyone other than my Mr. Right.

  So, as for now, I was simply untouched and impatiently waiting.

  Virgin and all, I’d say that I’d had a pretty active dating life and I’d dated all types of men.

  I’d dated white men, black men, Latino men and hell, even an Irish man once.

  Christian men, professional men, educated men and I’d even tried the successful, dread wearing, vegetarian, in tune with the sun and the moon type of guy, but I had yet to find the one.

  When those men didn’t seem to work out, I’d even tried bending on my necessities, just a little, to the middle class working, mill laborer, car servicing, or fork-lift driving type of guy.

  But still, I had no luck with finding someone that I thought was good enough to keep around forever.

  Nothing was ever just right.

  Everybody said that I was too picky and that I was going to be alone forever, but to be honest, I’d take being alone, with dignity, over being used, hurt, disrespected or having to share a baby’s daddy with two or more women, on any given day.

  Oh hell no, again…Tori will pass on that one.

  I definitely wasn’t sharing my special pussy-pop just to end up in Hell on earth.

  I just couldn’t do it.

  Call me naïve, stuck-up, full of it, or whatever you want to, but the right man for me was out there, somewhere, and hopefully he would come my way soon.

  If what my mother had preached all of that time was true, the man that was supposed to have me, was waiting for me, searching for me, and when he found me, I was going to be ready.

  But for the time being, I had to settle for a good ole’ Bo.

  When I tell you that every woman needs a Bo…that’s exactly what I mean!

  Bo was my toy and main-thang at the moment.

  Say what you want but Bo and a drawer full of batteries were the best thing to ever happen to me and it was getting the job done just fine.

  Humph, don’t judge me!

  And surely don’t knock it until to you try it.

  I’d been like that at one point in my life, but it had surely made a fool out of me.

  Some would ask me how did I know what I was missing if I’d never had it?

  The truth was, I didn’t know.

  I couldn’t exactly say what it was that I was missing, but I was still a woman and I got urges just like everyone else.

  For years I’d dealt with this itch that I just couldn’t scratch and since I wasn’t too fond of trying to figure it out with my fingers the old fashioned way, I turned to modern day technology instead.

  Not to mention that I wasn’t too fond of the whole idea of masturbating, or self-pleasing but something had to be done before I went insane.

  So, One day, after a long night of feeling what I presume to be horny, the next morning, in a hoodie sweatshirt and with sunglasses on, I went to the adult store and I got myself a Bo.

  And we have been in a committed relationship ever since.

  Hell if I could marry him, I probably would!

  And I was so not joking either.

  Okay, so maybe I enjoyed it a little too much and maybe I was even a little addicted to it, but for now, it was just going to have to do.

  It was my only option.

  But one thing was for sure, if the real thing was anything like Bo, then I knew that once I got just a taste of it, I was going to be in big trouble.

/>   Entering the house, immediately, I took off my clothes and made myself comfortable on the couch.

  There was truly no place like home.

  After relaxing for just a second or two, I grabbed my laptop and I checked a few emails.

  Everything from work I ignored.

  I hate mass e-mails.

  Work was the last thing on my mind, especially since I didn’t have to go back for a while.

  I checked a few other miscellaneous things and even decided to semi-internet stalk a few of my ex’s on social media.

  I never bothered them or anything.

  I just looked to see what they were up to in their lives. Basically, I was looking to see if they had found love.

  Some of them had.

  Some of them were now married with children and I couldn’t help but wondered if they had become better men since they’d dated me.

  For the wives sake, I sure hope so.

  After I was done being nosey, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts to see who I could call.

  Once I reached the end of my contacts list, I got an idea. I was finally going to give a guy from work a call.

  His name was Vick.

  He was new to the company and since I was the best, I’d had the pleasure, well more like the responsibility of showing him the ropes.

  Of course he didn’t make more money than I did, but he made enough to put him in the category of being a potential.

  Anyway, he’d approached me on several occasions with his lines and compliments and I’d finally decided to take his number a few days ago.

  I’d yet to call him and since I had been on vacation from work for the past two days and I would be for the next two weeks, I hadn’t had to see him to give him an excuse or explanation.

  But today was as good as ever.

  I was bored to death and I wasn’t doing anything, so I took a deep breath and tapped my finger on his number to call him.

  “Hey Vick, it’s me, Tori.”

  “Who? Oh, hey you---um, can I call you back? I’m kind of busy,” Vick said and he’d barely let me respond before he hung up.

  How rude!

  I looked at the phone as I removed it from my ear.