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A Caribbean Bar Meeting A Snippet from - A Love Story

Weeping Days Weeping Nights Is There An Escape In-between ?

By Black Dog ProductionsPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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 A Caribbean Bar Meeting A Snippet from - A Love Story
Photo by British Library on Unsplash

This was deemed to be a romantic meeting. Indeed it was initially. The idea of a meeting of minds with men, one would consider twentieth century tycoons. A bunch of people very close to my dear one, who was about to break the ice on his extra-marital affair. Indeed, a real love affair that had been swimming around London and Caribbean quarters for around twenty years. Inside, a secret ball until the year two thousand and fourteen. Then the ball burst. Even though, I never pulled the trigger. It was my partners choice to get our cat out of the bag.

Upon, my trust of so long. Upon, a promise made to me by a man I fell in love with. I was led along in cloud nine. I was a young women sucked into a net of disguise. Indeed, love pulled wool over my eyes. The craftsman in charge of this cord, put up such a story of con-artistry combined with an inner disguise. Yearning for a love he'd never had. I fell for it hook line and sinker.

I was under the wings of love. I had been pulled into an artificial world. One, that superficially on the surface was lined with fancy cars, cruise ships. Caribbean, London, American hotel encounters. Lunch at 'The Ritz', did not go amiss.

Dividing our time within Caribbean island stopping points to meet in-between our London mews romantic hideaway. This, being our secret stop for many months at a time, in Belgravia London. America got a piece of our cake. We'd stop at many a hub to meet. A business trip was always on the cards as our cover. Passing Caribbean entrepreneurs within their beautiful perfect lives. Or, so it all seemed on the surface.

Here, within this glossy glamourous clan, was in-fact one lonely man. He had bled half to death, inside a stone dead marriage. Held-up a sick bad tempered wife in his half-way house. He, therefore fled from his rusty pan. His warmer Caribbean quarters, where he was utterly miserable every year to London town. He'd spend many months with me devouring the fruits of true love from our love tree. I, henceforth, got sucked into his drum. Not having a blinking clue what the heck I'd got myself into. His needs, were no doubt erotic requirements. That comes without saying quite naturally when one falls in love. On this point, we did. Ours was kind of love from film star land.

Bringing you back to the present. A meeting was hereby arranged inside his restaurant-bar. The year two thousand and fourteen hit the bell on the clock. I'd already bled real blood, upon my escaping from a different dead marriage, littered with other filth. One raises one's eyebrows. The stories I will uncover are something else. When I get off this boat of-course.

Holding my head high, I put up an emotional fight over this wealthy exotic tycoon's love for me. When, the darts of jalousies arrived. Speaking from inside an exotic cover of disguise, somewhat herewith. Being deemed a young gold-digger. I had a cart-full of tycoons chasing me. Above all, many of them had none of the complications the one I fell in love with had. I feel quite sorry for the wealthier set. Having lived a long part of my life in their world. They actually have no freedom at all, in all due respect. Not in the way more moderate lives do. All eyes are on them all of the time, unless a master of disguise- plan is made, as he did do so. They have the money for this after-all.

I was despised, as my partner had a dying wife with no marriage. I may be despised for falling in love with a man already in wedlock. Yet, he ran after me big-time. In-fact, I took a whole year to consider his offer. Upon, when we first met in the year nineteen hundred and ninety eight. This being, when he first laid his cards on the table. A proposal was put to me of sorts. He offered me the world.

I'd only recently resurfaced from a crazy marriage just before meeting this new dude. I'd managed to keep my head on so far. On avoiding the guillotine, so to speak. There's many a madman on the loose. Murders of females. No justice. A criminal man's parade, They get off the hook. Crime escalates. 'We have no time or money'. A well known policeman's verbal diarrhoea modern day expression. More heartache. Ignoring the beating drum. Just a tip from me.' A tut-tut on your bald heads'. To all brain dead judges who sit in the courtrooms. Tick your boxes, get out of court fast. The only thing on your minds, whilst your mistress holds her wet handkerchief full of tears. She's sobbing in chambers right now, for you won't cancel your weekend with your wife.

Our meeting was to be set in a Caribbean bar restaurant situated along a popular seven mile beach tourist stopping point. My partner owned the joint. He gathered his flock. Placing everyone on his favourite table. Bear this in mind. His dying wife was now only just dead She had just hit the bucket to dead men's row. On being so relived to escape his entrapment from a dead marriage. He couldn't wait to bring me into his clan. I, being a sucker for punishment went along with his game. If, I could turn back time, I would have understood. There is factor of ' time' for others anyway to reminisce allowing the storms of loss of another soul to calm. This was the last thing on his mind. He was laughing to the bank. On cloud nine. He had waited a long time for his freedom, although he never admits his crying heart to anyone.

On my way to his joint. I arrived looking divine. Everyone smiled sweetly at first. Then, his so called group of, 'so called friends', began to check me out. In other words, stripped me down from head to toe. One of his kind, a banker infact, gave me a real beady eye-look. Checking my worth. Almost like he was looking at his new Ferrari. I could see through his eyes. These men were all locked inside a millionaires jail remember. If one was to gain an entry pass, who is not stinking rich like them. One is deemed as a gold-digger. Particularly if one looks like a beauty queen. As, my lover was so determined. His eyes sparkling with love champagne. These tycoons in his clan with-held their grace in-front of our eyes. Smiled sweetly in t'other words. Fake-ness was inevitable. To me anyway. If not to my lover.

Upon these little carribeanne islands. Stinking rich hang out within their own bones. Employing slaves, otherwise known as maids. To this day, to wash their pants. In no uncertain terms. I know, fact for fact. For after this bitter-sweet evening meeting whereupon I was stripped down to my knickers by t'other men within his den. Whereupon lop-sided eyes were trying to see straight through me. I was being the one dragged down-under to this jail of hanging wealthy eye-balls almost popping outwardly out of their eye -sockets. As though, they had never seen a real woman in their whole blinking life of disguise.

Sitting under an utter fake tycoons bag of litter. I sat with my bag of love-hearts. Amongst tycoons with big-cigars. Pipes they smoked hung out the corners of their mouths. Having an almost side dripping leak from the corner of lips so tired of hanging they dripping salvia from sucking of pipes so long. Along with an ordure plus an after dinner treat which comprised of licking girls bums. Or, they'd be kissing so many waitresses on the side, while sweet little wives were all tucked up inside.

Grunt, grunt. Are you still thinking of dating a millionaire ?

This is just the start of a bag of my stories. I invite you inside my own bag erotic humorous millionaires fun. Plus some great education to young ladies of our times. Put your stockings on for the right one. Don't take them off, unless you get what you want on the table. Before you hit the point of no return. I'd hate to see more young ladies in my kind of pickle onion stew for undoing a love-knot needs a unique kind of glue.

More coming soon.

Delila Reddit ( pen-name)

Yvette Louise Melech

Copyright to vocal & author.

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About the Creator

Black Dog Productions

My background is Art In all it's diversities.

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