Novels by Chimeloen

Pulling her dress upward, he sucked on her navel. “Oh Brian, I love that,” she whispered, wriggled on the floor like an earthworm and started breathing hard when he pulled her skirt to her ankles and saw she had no lingerie; her wet well shaven vagina was already calling on him. “Oh Brian what are you waiting for? Do what you know best,” she moaned with her eyes shut, mouth opened and hands fondling her breasts. Brian looked at the camera he mounted at the wardrobe and it was well positioned to film them as they were about to have sex. He smiled, and unzipped his trousers. Another sex tape was about to be released.Flashback:“And all these happen for your sake. Grandma was hospitalized because I pulled a trick you wanted, what about Mr. Biscuit; he died because I sheltered you from the rain when your car broke down.”“You forgot the part of you drugging my drink just to sleep with me. What haven’t you done?”She raised her voice amid flaming stares. “I did not drug your drink. Yo

Brian and Sia drove quietly, barely stealing a glance at each other and keeping a stern look; no one wanted to say a word to the other. When Brian became bored he turned on the CD player in his Chevrolet and a soft sonorous voice of Blues dominated their midst, as they sped across the chilly tar road of California. Sia watched as Brian pulled over a boutique. Once he turned off the CD player, Sia inquired, “Where are you taking me to?” Brian rolled his eyes at her, “What does it look like?” he turned his gaze away from her, seeing that she wasn’t interested in eye contact. "I want to gift you a shopping spree,” He mumbled and caught her gaze when she finally looked at him, her eyes full of surprises. “I don’t expect that now. I thought you were driving me home,” she said softly. Brian forced a smile and breathed hard, “you had better wear your seat belt because I am about driving you crazy. I just want you to know I made enough money from my drugs. I can’t spend it a

Sia was well seated at the police station opposite detective Ben and an illuminating lantern shone across their faces as she was interrogated. She had been lying about the call she put to the police and she just had to keep lying otherwise Brian would be implicated.Earlier she was highly infuriated to put an end to all about Brian; she was hell-bent on snitching on Brian with the police over his notorious cocaine peddling. Inwardly she had come to the end of the tunnel with Brian and the best way she chose to do away with Brian was snitching on him. She had picked up her phone, stared sternly at the 911 she just dialed, and when a voice picked it on the other end, she declined the call. She struggled within herself to keep her trembling hand to a firm hold. Her hand suddenly started shaking as one suffering from Parkinson’s disease. Her heart had increased its pressure and speed; it was not fear neither was it timidity; it was a greater force than obses

Three police cars screeched into the compound of Mr. and Mrs. Coleman and a band of armed police men led by inspector Ben dashed out from the cars and advanced to the door. His officer stood at alert, eyes darting here and there around the neighborhood, with their rifles handy and ready to take a shot if need be. Mr. and Mrs. Coleman were having breakfast at the time. At the resounding cry of the siren their breakfast was interrupted as they paused thoughtfully to know where the siren was blaring. In few seconds the door bell went in ding-dong. They stared at each other, as quietness hung over them. With their raised brow, they questioned the siren that kept blaring outside of their house. They had not expected police or emergency unit to come close to their neighborhood except something tragic had happened in their neighborhood. The doorbell rang again and their faces were much scowled now, convinced that it was coming from their flat. “That is coming from our door,” Mrs. Co

Brian gave Mr. Biscuit a befitting burial. Beside its grave he built a monument which he specially dedicated to Mr. Biscuit. Grandma didn’t honor the burial and he knew she wasn’t going to pay her last respect to a charismatic pet that served her more than most of her laborers- the wrath of losing Mr. Biscuit still hung in her heart, and Brian would have to earn grandma’s forgiveness before the center between them could hold.Other laborers who honored the last respect to Mr. Biscuit had dispersed to their duties, leaving only Sia and Brian standing at the grave; which had; MR BISCUIT 2020-20222, eligibly written across the monument with titillating pictures of the pet and flowers littered all over.“We are going to miss it so much,” Sia said mildly, standing beside Brain who was still all tears. She looked at his sober face and wondered if he was actually pained for the death of Mr. Biscuit or guilt of being responsible for the death; She had overheard grandma nag

Ken had been in a hot bickering with Mrs. Fanny over her decision to divorce her husband. In as much as he wanted her the guilt of not saving Mr. Fanny from jail wouldn’t allow him encourage her intention. He was of the opinion of giving Mr. Fanny a second chance to love her, also to stand by him in this trying moment- as he serves his jail term. But Mrs. Fanny had barked at ken.“You are saying trash,” she had told ken, “Tell me how I am going to spend the rest of my life with a man I can’t trust?”“We are all humans. You have your flaws too,” Ken had replied. .“My flaws wouldn’t lie and make you feel comfortable only for you to hear the truth in a court of law,” she had gone crimson as her face folded in anger, “My flaws wouldn’t tell you I have got a job at a grocery store meanwhile I am a cocaine king pin.”Ken interrupted, “Oh come on the days of a man are full of ups and downs. Whatever he did in New York; whatever