A giving woman who hates asking people for things deserves to be given the world. | Breakfast In Bed Ep.10

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New #BreakfastInBed episode 10 at the top of the hour: RealNewsPaper.me #EbrahimAseem

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“He’s going to kill me,” Rosaria mumbled to herself, shaking uncontrollably behind the hotel bed in response to her brother’s warning shots.

“I’m not going to kill you!” Rosaria’s brother Austin replied. “I only want to bring you back to dad’s manor.”

“I can’t go back there, ever!” Rosaria cried. “You and that maniac can have each other.”

“Bitch, whet?” Austin snapped in a sassy tone. “What ‘chu mean we can have each other?”

“Guuuurl, who you calling bitch?” Rosaria snapped back. “Did I stutter? You know exactly what….”

“Pow pow!” was the sound Rosaria heard as Austin’s gun fired two shots. Chills of fear ran down her body as she helplessly gripped the bedding. Suddenly, she felt blood dripping down her neck as her body froze. She couldn’t feel the pain from the bullet. She was numb. She couldn’t activate her sense of touch. The only one of her senses working was her sight. As Rosaria fought to maintain consciousness, she stared at the beautiful portrait hanging above the bed. She gasped hard when she saw his reflection in the mirror, holding the Barreta.

“Anthony!” Rosaria shouted.

Breakfast in Bed: Episode 10
By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

~

Once Gloria arrived at her husband Richard’s cabin, she got out her car, snapped her fingers, & four men in swat gear pulled her daughter India’s unconscious body out of the backseat, carrying her into the cabin. Gloria lit a Cuban cigar & inhaled it deep, pleased with her work.

~

“Are you hurt?” Anthony asked his bae’s twin sister, Rosaria.

“Where is India?” Rosaria screamed, with fear in her eyes & goosebumps all over her body.

“Ria! I’m asking you are you ok?” Anthony pleaded.

“And I’m asking you where the hell my sister is,” Rosaria snapped. “Why did you even come here for me and not go save my sister. Unless you already killed her & are here to finish me off.”

“Finish you off?” Anthony asked. “I just saved your life. Your brother Austin had his gun aimed directly at your jugular before I came in & knocked him out. I saved you.”

“And I’m so appreciative, Captain-save-a-twin,” Rosaria retorted, “but you forgot to save the other twin. You know, the one who’s actually in love with you. What happened to my sister? Where is India?”

~

India’s unconscious body lay in the attic of her father’s cabin. Though she was in a dream state, limbs unable to work, her senses worked fine. She could smell the aroma of smoke in the air, coming from her mother’s Cuban cigar. This trigger a memory in her subconscious mind of burning cedar from the romantic first date she’d had with Anthony just hours earlier.

“How do you like this restaurant?” Anthony asked India, after pulling out her chair for her.

“It has a beautiful ambiance & an amazing smell, mmm,” India replied before dramatically inhaling for effect. “I love the fire-place. It’s nice & toasty in here. Good choice sir.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Anthony laughed, handing India a cigar from his blazer jacket, “you’re so proper. I feel like I should tip my top hat to you, if I had one.

“Ha! And I’d curtsey,” India giggled, grabbing the cigar & putting it inside her purse. “Thank you, I don’t smoke but I promise to save it for a special occasion.

“Fair enough,” Anthony replied. “Could you imagine life in those days? If you had to pick any classic era to live in, which would you pick?”

“The 1940s, easy,” India answered. “The way women like Katharine Hepburn used to dress in those Black & White movies. Ugh. I love classic beauty and sophisticated elegance.”

“Mmm, well-played madam, well-played,” Anthony agreed, lighting his cigar to smoke. He handed India the matches he’d grabbed from the front desk at the restaurant for her to put in her purse, as he continued talking.

“Classy women who posses beautiful souls get over looked too much these days, while girls who lack substance & bare their assets to unworthy viewers get all the attention.

Sometimes you see the girl stressed, struggling to do it alone. No acknowledgement from her family, staring at her dry phone. Doubt in her mind. Hurt in her heart, but ambition in her eyes. Realize, she’s everything you need, to be whole. A resilient woman loves deeply, with all her soul. Help take away her demons. Reassure her flaws are not a deal breaker. Fight for her. Cut off your side chicks. Grow with only her, until you two become one.

That’s what I kept telling myself when I first saw you walk into that Starbucks. It threw me off when you told me you were taken. But, even though I didn’t get your number that day, I knew it wasn’t the end for us. I don’t care who had you when I first met you, you were always mine in my heart. No thing he ever said to you can comfort you more than the embrace of my reassurance. No night in bed with him can compare to the deep way my throbbing intellect pounds the lip entrance of your mind.

I won’t compete with the EXs of your past, nor the men in your phone. My heart is your throne. Come home baby & share it. My commitment is your crown. Come on baby & wear it. I plan to marry you one day, up to heaven I swear it up. And on the night you say I do, your gorgeous body, mmm I’mma tear it up. Devour your lips, then feed those lips my head. Such a sensual kiss, in the dialect of french. I want to ease my love inside your pulsating chambers, so you can feel how strong my heart beats for you. Burst your love down the throat of my heart, watch me swallow every drop. I want to love you non-stop, because my affection for you, just like my protection of you has, no limit.”

“Lawd ha’ mercy!” India responded with a smile, “Damn boy, making me squirm on front of all these people! How dare you.”

“You know you love ever fuckin’ word of it, don’t play with me India,” Anthony whispered in a low, deep voice, loud enough for only her to hear him.

“Mmm, I love when you put me in my place,” India admitted in a low tone, “but if you ever call me out my name or disrespect me I will chop your head off. And not the one connected to your handsome face either.”

“Ooooo you’re a feisty woman ain’t you,” Anthony replied, wincing at the thought of his penis being chopped off. “Not one to play with.”

“Mama can hold her own,” India smirked. “This mouth is a weapon. Cocked and loaded.”

“Nice,” Anthony responded, talking with cigar in hand, “I see you love that scent of firewood too. Just know, if ever your mouth runs out of ammunition, that hair spritz in your bag can act as a hell of an explosive weapon when combined with wood & fire.”

Suddenly India woke up. While she was fighting to regain her vision, her sense of smell worked perfectly.

“Fire,” she whispered under her voice.

After regaining her vision, she spotted her purse, then crawled to it. She couldn’t walk, but she could think. She grabbed her cell phone, her hair spritz, the cigar and matches Anthony gave her; crawled back to her spot by the window, scrolled to her iTunes & played the first song she saw.

When the swat team heard the loud music projecting from the attic, they grabbed their weapons & headed upstairs. India slid her phone across the wooden floor, towards the attic door. The swat team stormed into the attic, guns drawn. With fear in her heart and determination in her mind, India begin to dance.

Sixteen years of ballet came in handy. India was poetry in motion. With the grace of Misty Copland and the allure of Ciara in the “Ride” music video, India distracted the maliciousness of her mother’s henchmen.

She bit the cigar and with sensuality, eased it between her lips. Then, she placed her back to the window, put her hands on her knees and bent her back. All the blood rushes from the salt team’s upper head and tracked to their lower heads. She shook up her spritz, lit her cigar, lit the bottom of her spritz bottle, threw them both on her straw cot and jumped out the window. As soon as the henchmen begin to shoot at her shadow, their gun fire triggered an explosion. India landed on soil and manure, as she watched her mother’s henchmen roast to a crisp in the cabin she grew up visiting every summer as a little girl.

~

“India is not a little girl anymore,” Anthony replied. “She’s not your baby in need of your protection anymore.”

“And so who are you then,” “I mean correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you trying to be her protection? Her stability? Her knight in shines armor?”

“No,” Anthony corrected, “I am her solder. I am in her life for my spirit to serve hers. My actions will make her loyalty submit to my consistency.

A woman doesn’t need protection by a man nor from a man. After all, the most powerful force in the universe chose woman to protect, carry & deliver life into this realm as mothers. So, she doesn’t need my protection. She needs my love. Encouragement. Support. Faithfulness. Trust. Acknowledgement. Appreciation. She needs me to be what she always is to every one else, yet no one ever is to her, a giver.

A giving woman who hates asking people for things deserves to be given the world.

She always puts everyone’s needs before her own. Yet, who ever makes her a priority? Sometimes, asking her ‘are you ok?’ ins’t enough. Do for her without her having to ask. A woman of strength internalizes her pain. Study the enigma she is & give to her reassurance that all she does is appreciated.

Why #consistency is so important to a woman. #Givers Link to full article in my bio. #EbrahimAseem

A post shared by Ebrahim Aseem (@fuel4thebody) on

Your sister is a fighter. Not just for herself, but for her family and everyone she loves. When she asked me to kill her brother, I was confused. Yet, now I understand. She loves you more than anything. Austin hurt you in the worse way & she wanted me to protect you from him. When your father told me where she was and how to save her, I knew it as a trap. He wanted me to go to that cabin and get ambushed, so your brother Austin could come here and finish you off. I did what India would’ve wanted me to do. I fought for the person she loves more than her self, you. But I know wi every fiber of my being India will fight, claw and push herself out of harm’s way and back into my arms. I know this, because I instill her with love, confidence and undeniable baddassness.

India is a solider. She’s my solder.”

“I want to be your solder too,” Rosaria confessed to him. Anthony put his gun in his shoulder holster, walked over to Rosaria, grabbed her shivering body and lifted her up in his arms, until the were both at eye level.”

To be continued next week……..

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody

Missed the 1st episode? Read it here =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib
Episode #2 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib002
Episode #3 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib003
Episode #4 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib004
Episode #5 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib005
Episode #6 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib006
Episode #7 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib007
Episode #8 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib008
Last week’s episode #9 =>> http://wp.me/sT7Bl-bib009

This is a fictional, weekly web-story, based on true events.

I offered to incorporate subscribers emails for advice in the weekly #BreakfastInBed stories as a way for them to anonymously ask people worldwide for advice on their situations.

By: Ebrahim Aseem Follow @fuel4thebody
Author of the book, “Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women”
Facebook.com/AEAseem
Instagram: @Fuel4TheBODY

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About Ebrahim Aseem

I am a chef, writer & motivational speaker. I've been a youth mentor for young Black men for 10 years & I'm currently shopping my first book, "Why Men Cheat on Loyal Women"
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