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SECRETS THAT WOMEN SHARE In this sit on the edge of your seat suspense thriller, three friends are brought together in a series of strange events that leaves them speculating that they all may be experiencing the same nightmare.Introducing, Kennede Crawford, the proud owner of “Suga Pies.” One of the most a...

Here's a chapter from my book,
"SECRETS THAT WOMAN SHARE"
CHAPTER 1
“I don’t know why I let you two talk me in to coming here. You guys know this isn’t even me. Besides, who’s ever heard of “The Black Chippendales?” Marlanea clutched her purse tightly under her arm while waiting in line with two of her best friends, to get into Atlanta’s Roxy Theater. “You know, if you would try getting out a little more instead of staying at home in front of your flat screen watching the Atlanta Housewives, you might have heard of The Black Chippendales,” Kennede freely spoke up. Gracey laughed, nudging at Marlanea to try loosening up on what was her last and finial night of freedom. Finial, because tomorrow was the big day, her wedding day and for her bachelorette party, Kennede and Gracey had taken her on a girl’s night out. The only thing was, this girl’s night out was going to be spent watching muscle bound, baby oiled up brother’s; all ranging from cappuccino tan, to Hershey’s special dark chocolate, strip down to their g-strings. Of course for any other woman this would have probably been a let’s get the party started kind of night, but not for Marlanea. Pretty much because the man’s anatomy had never really appealed to her, not saying the woman’s body did. She just couldn’t see the beauty or excitement about it, not the way that most women brag upon it. Of course, by all means Marlanea was strictly a bat and balls kind of girl. She clearly hadn’t been a virgin since the age of seventeen, but s*x just wasn’t what you would call a major part of her life. Now, here she was twenty-six and about to marry a man she’d being dating for only six months. The two of them had decided to wait on s*x until their wedding night, so knowing each other intimately between the sheets was something totally unknown. After taking her seat and ordering an Apple-tini from their VIP section right next to the stage, Marlanea started receiving a most uncomfortable feeling. However, before she could disclose her feelings toward her friends, the house lights went dim and the stage lights popped on. Strobe lights begin flickering as the search lights danced about the stage. The Atlanta women started going crazy, waving their hands in the air and showcasing the money they had come to spend. This event had definitely brought out all types of women, from pretty much all walks of life. There was your elite rich Atlanta house wife, the business suit power executive, the empowered business owner, the struggling hardworking single mother, and of course your everyday basic hood rat section; with their ghetto hair do’s and knockoff name brand flea market shoes, clothes and Coach handbags. The Emcee marched onto the stage welcoming and thanking everyone for coming out tonight. He then mentioned that there would be a few special guests that evening, a hometown surprise for their enjoyment. He instructed everyone to remain in their seats during the show, reassuring the ladies that the dancers would come and join them out on the floor after their performances on the stage. With that being said, he excused himself, but not before introducing the first performer, “Iron Man.” Now, this brotha came to the stage dressed up as Iron Man himself. At first you could hear a few chuckles from the audience, even Gracey and Kennede both let out similar smirks. Jamie Foxx’s song “Blame It” poured out from the sound system, rumbling throughout the theatre house as it bounced from wall to wall. Iron Man swayed to the sound, letting the remix warm up his hips as he gyrated across the stage. Stopping abruptly in the middle of the stage, he rotated his back to the audience and slowly removed his mask from over his head. Locks of wavy black hair started tumbling out, gradually cascading down his back, just passed his shoulders. By viciously shaking his head from side to side, like some type of wet animal, it allowed his hair to regain its natural flow of jet black bouncy spirals. Tossing the mask off to the side of the stage, The Iron Man slowly spun his body around revealing his s*xy iron chiseled face. You would have thought the drug Ecstasy had been freely given out among the ladies, as they cried and screamed out all in or****ic lust with Gracey and Kennede right in tune with them. Marlanea had to smile herself at the beautiful Adonis that danced before her. If Dwayne Johnson “The Rock” had a twin brother, then this brotha would definitely be him. By the time he had removed his shirt, every woman had stood to their feet and was now moving right along with him to the music. His arms and pecks were strong and massive and ready to be rubbed down with hot flavored body oils intended only for the pleasure of tasting. He moved and danced his way right down the cat walk and over to one side of the stage, right to their VIP section. Standing there rolling his pelvis he pointed down at Kennede, gesturing with his index finger for her to come a little closer to the stage. Kennede pointed at herself for reassurance before speaking. “You want me? Oh hell yeah,” was her answer. Running toward the stage that was no more than three feet away from the girls table, Kennede screamed, as if she had won a lottery. On bent knee, Iron Man allowed Kennede to caress his enormous arms and rock hard chest. Playfully he bounced his pecks up and down in Kennede’s hand, which was truly icing on the cake for her. She happily waved her money in the air that was firmly in her other hand, letting him know that she definitely liked what she was seeing and receiving. This brought him swiftly back to his feet. And in one big rip, he removed his break away pants from around his lower torso. Revealing a red and gold studded G-string, with a rocket pouch in front, that clearly was loaded and ready to be launched. Kennede placed a twenty dollar bill between the thin piece of string and his pelvic area, then watched as he blew her a kiss and danced away. She strolled back to the table slapping a high five with Gracey and attempted the same from Marlanea. After getting no reaction toward her gesture, Kennede fired out. “Marlanea, why are you sitting there acting like some kind of nun searching for a confessional? Get up and have some fun girl, hell this is your last night of freedom, enjoy it. Shoot… I know you can’t sit right there and tell me that man on stage is not fine?”

“No… he’s fine all right,” Marlanea agreed, halfheartedly. “It’s just that I don’t belong here, I mean, what would Darrell say if he knew I was here watching half naked men?” Marlanea glanced up at the stage, where the Iron Man had just shimmied out of his G-string, making public his family jewels. Marlanea gasped, “Good Lord, forget about half naked, I should say naked men.” Kennede let out a yelp, “Thank you Jesus,” was her immediate response to the unveiling of the rocket. After a short lived gander at what the Iron Man was packing, Kennede brought her attention back over to Marlanea and their conversation. “Marlanea, why should you be worried about what Darrell would think; hell, he’s probably doing the same thing as we speak.” Kennede spat out. Marlanea hurriedly stood to her feet in a quick defense stance, with her arms crossed and her body weight shifted on one leg. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What are you trying to imply Kennede?” Kennede laughed at the way her friend was carrying on. “Girl I know you are not that naïve. What in the world do you think they do at bachelor parties… play cards? Honey, they hire st*****rs to come entertain the bachelor on his last night of freedom.” Marlanea stood there a minute with a perplexed look on her face, “Not my Darrell,” she whispered to herself. “Hey, you guys,” Gracey jumped from out her chair. “Do you notice anything oddly familiar about our Iron Man on stage?” “No? Well maybe, he did look kind of familiar to me,” Kennede added. “I couldn’t place where I knew him from.”

“The way you get around, are you sure he ain’t one of your one night stands?” Marlanea fired back. Kennede rolled her eyes and ignored the shaded comment Marlanea tried to throw her way. “Well I do,” Gracey assured, breaking the awkwardness between her two friends. I may not know the name, but he is definitely one of the Atlanta Falcons… at least I think.” “What…? What are you talking about,” Marlanea cried out. Trying to take one last look at Iron Man’s face as he danced off the stage, Marlanea thought to herself. “No way, it couldn’t be?” “Come on Marlanea tell us,” Kennede badgered. “Was that one of Darrell’s teammates?” Marlanea’s fiancé was none other than Darrell “The Hitman” Johnson, a wide receiver for the Atlanta Falcons. This was going to be his fourth season being with the team, and six months ago was the first time Marlanea had ever heard of him. “I… I can’t say if it is or isn’t. I don’t really know any of his teammates, only a handful” “Damn girl, you’re about to be married to all those millions, and you don’t even know who he works with?” Gracey questioned. Marlanea shook her head no as she answered. “I’ve only meet four or five of his team mates, and only for a brief moment during an interview. It never was a concern to me to know all the players on his team.” “Excuse me,” a woman seating at the table next to theirs passed over a flyer. “This is one of the flyers they handed out at the door. From the topic of you all’s conversation, I take it you ladies didn’t get one on your way in. Because, that was Jake Phillips, from the Atlanta Braves that just performed, not from the Falcons.”

“Thank you,” Kennede smiled an acknowledged, then took the flyer to read. “I knew it..., I knew I recognized him from somewhere,” Gracey added. “Jake Phillips from the Atlanta Braves huh, why was he performing tonight, what does the flyer say?” Kennede glanced up from the flyer then back down again. “It says performing tonight only, five of Atlanta’s very own. It doesn’t mention the names of who they are, just that all their proceeds will be going to special charities, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and be surprised.” “Okay, now I’ve seen and heard it all. Tell me, who in the hell strips for charity?” Gracey implied handing over the flyer to Kennede. Kennede only smirked at the question, but answered with confidence. “Honey, only… Atlanta’s… strong, fine ass, black… male professional athletes… that’s who?” “Excuse me Miss…,” Marlanea called out to a nearby waitress. Hearing the call, the waitress literally squeezed her way around the bodies of out of control ladies, to where Marlanea stood. “How can I help you,” she asked all bubbly. “I’m going to need three more Apple-tini’s, and three shots of Patron,” was the order Marlanea gave to the blonde perky model looking waitress. “Alrighty then, I’ll be right back with your order,” she answered with a Texas draw and a smile. “Huh! Look who just took their Nun’s habit off, sister Marlanea. So what the hell finally woke your behind up,” this question from none other than Kennede herself. “Well, things are different now. I feel like I’m more at a charity event then a strip show, and that I’m much more comfortable with.”

The Emcee had returned back to the stage, and Gracey and Kennede’s attention left Marlanea to observe the next upcoming act. The Emcee himself had changed suits and was now strolling down the catwalk with the upmost swagger and masculinity for all the ladies to see. “Are you ladies having a goodtime?” He powerfully voiced out. A roar from the crowd rumbled out in approval for the entertainment of choice. “If you thought Iron Man brought you out your seats, then this next brotha’ here is gonna take you on an African safari. Hold on ladies, because “The Lion King” himself has come to Atlanta. Welcome to the stage, King Mufasa…” The lights dance about the stage once again, right along to the sounds of Morris Day and The Time’s “Jungle Love” crooning to the crowd. The strobe lights helped give the illusion of a slow moving beast of prey, stalking its dinner out amongst the herd of women. Wearing a lion’s head dress, and cape that resembled a lion’s yaky thick mane that closely wrapped around to conceal his body… King Mufasa lured the women in with his African dance. Tossing back his cape of mane, Mufasa revealed his broad sculpted torso, and skin tight shorts. Out from under those shorts flowed a pair of legs that were ripped with the muscular definition of a runner or some type of athlete. Every woman was at full attention at the beautiful beast in front of them, as they called out for more. Marlenea found herself staring at the chocolate god on stage herself. Something was oddly familiar about the man who called himself “Mufasa”, but Marlenea just couldn’t put her finger on it. Dancing his way down the runway, Mufasa moved closer to the other side of the stage. The second VIP section was across the runway with women waiting for their chance to grope and stroke the lion’s mane. Allowing his cape to fall and hit the floor, Mufasa slowly and s*xually pulled at his shorts until they were no longer around his waist. Exposing his black leather g-string and large endowed frontal pouch, Mufasa got down on all fours and crawled along the edge of the stage, allowing the women to have their way with him. Giving in to their touches and foreplay strokes, gave way to Mufasa’s g-string getting lined with five’s, ten’s and twenty dollar bills. After getting his fill off the ladies on that side of the VIP section, Mufasa made his way over toward Kennede, Gracey and Marlanea’s side of the stage, which gave Marlanea the wi***es for some strange reason. The hair on the nape of her neck stood up, and a chill from out of nowhere came over her. Kennede and Gracey were waiting with money in hand to get their chance to pet the tamed lion, while Marlanea stood stiff as a board. Progressing nearer to the stage to make sure they would surely get their turn, Gracey and Kennede left Marlanea standing alone. Mufasa was right in front of the two girls when he rose up from all fours, to just his knees. While Gracey and Kennede placed their money in his g-string, Mufasa grabbed for his lion’s head dress and removed it from around his head. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. Mufasa stared into the crowd and right into the face of the saddest woman he’d ever seen. Watching her tears loosen and streamed down her face, made his heart ache for her pain. Stopping his performance, he jumped down from the stage and scurry over to her. All the while, the ladies continued screaming, thinking it was all a part of his routine. Face to face with Marlanea, Mufasa grabbed a napkin from the table and dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Marly, baby I am sooo… sorry. Believe me, this is just for charity, I didn’t know you…” SLAP! Marlanea’s hand slid across Mufasa face, cutting off his explanation. “You didn’t what? Think I’d be coming here tonight, so your little secret would be safe. My fiancé… up on stage stripping for what? Some damn stupid charity? Darrell how could you do this to me?” Marlanea snatched her purse up off the table and started running for the nearest exit. She had to get out of there, she needed some fresh air. Marlanea had run a good four blocks before she even slowed down to catch her breath. From her high school and college years of running track, she was still in good running shape, even in heels. Slowing her pace to a cool down walk, Marlanea’s mind was overwhelmed with questions she tried to answer herself. What kind of man was she about to marry? What other secrets might he have hidden in a closet somewhere? Maybe she was letting her imagination wander out amongst the unknown for no reason. For Darrell was a good man. All through their engagement he had been the perfect gentlemen. Never putting her second, but always first in his life and daily schedule, and for that she loved and adore him. “Tonight shouldn’t be enough to throw all that away, should it?” She asked herself out loud. “No Marlanea, it shouldn’t,” was the answer she heard in the background. Positioning her head in the direction of the voice, Marlanea notice an old college friend of hers standing out by the street. “Camille, I didn’t see you standing there,” said Marlanea. “I saw you run out the theatre like some little scared school girl. After seeing your fiancé jump off the stage, and you run away, I quickly put two and two together. I ran out after you, but you were running so damn fast, I almost lost you.” “Sorry, I truly needed to get the hell away from the embarrassment my fiancé put me in and fast! I needed to get out of there and clear my head. It’s like a nightmare I’m having; only I’m not sleep. Damn…, how could he do this to me?” “Honey, if this is the worst thing your man has done since you’ve known him, consider yourself blessed. So what he’s not perfect, no man is. And believe me, if you don’t marry him tomorrow, there’s a building full of women down the street that will.” Marlanea thought to herself for a moment. “You’re right…, that was six months’ worth of grooming I did. No one else is going to claim my prize. Camille thanks….” Marlanea circled around to thank Camille but she was already gone. Marlanea shrugged her shoulders and shook her head at the disappearance of her ex-collogue. Thinking that the girls might be worried, she quickly took out her blackberry and called Gracey and Kennede, telling them her location. She then crossed the street, and waited in the nearby coffee shop for their arrival. Her mind was now at ease from the evenings shocking ending. This would absolutely be a bachelorette party she’d never forget, even as much as she would like to. One thing was for sure, she was going ahead with the wedding as planned. First she’d go home, cut off her cell phone, and let Darrell think about his strip for charity secret for a few hours. Then she would turn it back on, and on the first ring, answer. She’d listen to him plea for her forgiveness, and tell her how much he loved her, and couldn’t live without her. All before she would give in, by saying that she loved him, and still wanted to be Mrs. Darrell Johnson.

I am thankful for the two men who brought their creative flare and we're casted at Saturday's audition for the play, "I Have Been To The Mountain Top,"
(The Assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.) There were three men in room #306 at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, TN. on the day of the assassination.... Dr. King, Rev. Ralph Abernathy, and Rev. Billy Kyles. The part for Rev. Billy Kyles is still available If you would like to inquire about this part, please inbox me, or post on this page.

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Come out to the casting call for this great play/skit depicting a great civil rights leader. Post if you're interested.