Category Archives: A Novel In The Making

Ice Water-A Short Story

Gustav Klimt's The Kiss

  “Paint a perfect picture…

   Bring to life a vision in one’s mind…

   The beautiful one’s always smash the picture…

   Always, everytime.”


                                                                                    Ice Water

                                                                        By Tiffany Hood-Acolatse



She watched him breathe slowly beside her as he slept and as by fate, she knew that their story was all the more clearer than it was yesterday, the day before, or even years prior…

Sway leaned her voluptuous curves readily against the glossy, red body of the Ferrari 488 Spider as the photographer snapped his camera feverishly in her direction. With a small poke of the lip and a turn of her tiny waist, unashamed, she showed off her very shapely apple bottom and shocked him with a gorgeous, veneered smile.

Sweat poured from his face as if it were a hundred degrees outside as he continued to photograph his favorite muse. The quickening blue-black clouds in the Georgia sky were the perfect background to the prints he had in mind for her portfolio. He smiled, appreciating the view before him that, in his mind, was nothing less than perfect.

She stared, uninhibited, into the Nikon camera; amused by the reactions of her long time friend as he tried dutifully to hold the camera still while capturing her beauty frame after frame. She knew what was on his mind but he had to understand that she had too much to lose. As the owner of Sway-tique, a multimillion dollar lingerie franchise, Sway was proudly on her way to creating one of the most unique boutique labels in the fashion industry.

After about an hour of posing, instinctively, Sway glanced quickly upwards and glimpsed her husband staring angrily out of their second-floor bedroom window. “Oh no,” she scolded herself quietly as she watched him disappear inside. How could she have forgotten? Her black curls swirled around her face as she hurriedly turned back to the photographer.

“Dammit,  Reggie,” she screamed demandingly. “What time is it!” She began hurriedly straightening her Dolce and Gabbana caftan.

Reggie looked puzzled as he dropped one hand from the camera and checked his mediocre Timex. He hadn’t noticed that her husband had been watching them from above and stared at her in confusion.

“It’s 6:00, baby,” he exclaimed. He then turned to his left and grabbed a full glass of ice water that sat so temptingly on the brown, stoned fence wrapped around her front yard and gulped the coolness. He was trying, in his mind, to piece together what had just happened to make her go so ballistic.

Sway became frantic. “ Keith and I have a flight to catch to Bora Bora by 8:30 and I haven’t packed our bags!,” she cried miserably. “He‘s waiting upstairs. I’ve gotta go.”  Sway quickly walked up and placed a Guerlain KissKiss smooch on his warm cheek and then bailed the pristine courtyard in haste to the front door as if she were running the forty yard dash.

As the breeze whistled past her ears, she didn’t mistake the sound of the refreshing clink of the ice inside the crystal as she eased her way through the heavy, Tuscan doors enclosing the front entry. It amazed her as to how distinct the sound was even from a distance and before she closed the doors behind her, she stole a brief glance at him and noticed that the glass in his hand was still enticingly full; and the ice sparkled with a quenching promise.

As Reggie stood alone, he watched as she darted away and entered the adobe-style-home that belonged to she and her blasé, investment banker husband. A husband that Reggie knew could never really love her as she deserved.

Keith did not want a wife; he wanted a trophy. Their marriage was an emotional façade and a monetary jail cell.  Reggie knew Sway hated every minute of Keith’s braggart efforts to impress his peers simply because she now understood, after five years of marriage, that her husband would have nothing to do with her if it weren’t for his sociopathic need to remain on the family’s A-list.

Sway was a very strong and competent woman and her husband should have been proud to possess such a work of art. Like a Gustav Klimt, she was both beautiful and unpredictable. She was also both powerful in business and a model wife. Nothing like her husband who had been a penny pinching day trader when they met.  Without her, Keith would never have stood a chance in her world. She had been his guide stone, his only path to success.

Reggie stood alone in the courtyard for just a few moments more while staring at the three-story home as if it were a plague at Gldani. The blue-black clouds in the sky had darkened to an almost absolute shade of black as it eclipsed, framing the house with its darkness.

He was quietly astounded over the fact that the heavens had, yet again, created another perfect picture. He reached slowly for his camera once again and snapped a picture for remembrance.

His time with Sway had been cut short and in that, he was very disappointed.  He   always looked forward to seeing her. Hanging his head, he started silently down the cemented walkway at the side of the house towards the kitchen quarters located at the back of the home.  He needed to relieve himself of his still full glass of ice water whose cubes clinked harmoniously like his heart when he was with her.


Inside the elaborately decorated home, Sway ran as fast she could to her second story bedroom suite. She found, when she arrived, that her husband was standing inside their custom Tesalia wardrobe glaring into the vanity mirror. She measured the depth of his anger and cringed. She knew what would come next.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” she began as she stumbled inside, eyes lowered. “I completely lost track of time but I‘ll…”. Her voice faded as she moved to begin their packing but stopped in her tracks once she noticed the many Louis Vuitton bags piled in the corner of the wardrobe waiting to be towed downstairs.

His face was frightening as he turned and walked towards her. It was then that she noticed that he was holding a glass of ice in his right hand but the liquid inside had been depleted. It was even stranger still to see that when his six-foot-two frame moved in her direction, the ice never made a sound.

Once in front of her, she stared wary into his eyes as he towered above her.  His free hand lifted to stroke her cheek softly and then, un-expectantly, she felt his hand drop to her neck angrily and then began to squeeze tightly. She tried to scream.

“You little tramp! You couldn‘t stop screwing around long enough to pack a bag,” his voice maddening. Sway attempted to release his hands from around her throat but his fingers would not budge. She tried to scream again but became hoarse as his hand tightened even more. The lack of oxygen was making her weak and she felt faint.

Suddenly, Keith slammed her against the walls of the wardrobe. She slumped to the floor in pain from the impact then attempted to catch her breathe.  She looked up just in time to see the glass of ice from his hand soar through the air and crash to the floor. In shock, she attempted to regain her composure until she spotted Keith and Reggie lunging at one another.

What she least expected to see next was the gleam of the gun. Crying sorrowfully, Sway rushed to her feet. She started towards them but the ice from the empty glass intervened. Her hands flailed in the air as she felt herself falling towards the floor again. The last thing see remembered was the sound of the gun firing, the crack of her head as it hit the vanity dresser, and then there was nothing but darkness.

Confused, Sway awakened, allowing the haze of sleep to fade. In disbelief, she noticed Reggie sleeping next to her. She couldn‘t help staring. She watched him breathe slowly beside her as he slept and as by fate, she knew that their story was all the more clearer than it was yesterday, the day before, or even years prior, or so she thought.

She looked around, ingesting the meager surroundings of the bedroom. It had only been a dream she sighed with relief but before falling back to sleep, she noticed a familiar glass of ice water full to the brim on the bedside table and smiled at the coincidence. She could feel her heart swelling to match its fullness as she openly adored him.

Reggie didn‘t wake her as he admired his beautiful muse’s face as she slept. He turned to stare at the picture of Sway’s very real three-story home surrounded by eclipsed skies on his bedroom wall and thought back on the hurtful past before Sway’s unfortunate amnesia. He held her in his arms and made a silent promise to always cherish this woman who was his ice. The woman who was now his perfect picture.


Andrique and Jahnee (An excerpt from a novel in progress.)

An Excerpt…

Later that night, in her bed, Jahnee twisted and turned frantically in her sleep. The white, painted room dimmed into a smoky red haze. Her vision was blurred and her senses were alert to the hard fingers that stroked her bare, brown breasts as she lay spread eagle on the down comforter that crumbled beneath her weight on the wrought iron bed. Her nipples tightened painfully as the erotic stroking increased momentum and his rock protruded against her abdomen.

He lay heavy on top of her and she felt breathless as her sex moistened with anticipation. Her pleasure point throbbed beneath the dark curls of pleasure. She wanted to scream out loud for him to make love to her now but the words almost strangled her. Her fingers reached up to pull at his thick, silky hair as she tried to lure him inside of her.

Dreamingly, she could not see through the red fog that filled the room but she sensed the familiarity as the man before her brandished her body with the sensualness of his kiss; warming her skin. The woody scent of him triggered something inside her head but all was not forgotten as he turned her over and his knees spread her legs and he entered her with so much force that she could feel her body trembling and on the peak of an orgasm. Her nails dug deep into his skin, bringing him closer. There was power in every stroke as his manhood slipped urgently within her…in and out, in and…

Jahnee’s eyes shot open and she hastily sat up in her bed. He was invading her dreams again. Her hair was soaked with perspiration. Sweat beaded her forehead and she felt sticky as her white, silk panties and matching bra clung damply to her caramel colored skin. She quickly glanced around her feng sui, inspired bedroom just to make sure that it had really, only been a dream. The smell of Andrique still burned in her nostrils and lay heavy on her sheets. Jahnee groaned.

‘Am I ever going to get over him?’ she finally asked herself. ‘Andrique was getting married for God’s sake!’

To Be Continued…