I sipped on a Daiquiri and listened to him joke with his friends. They were haughty – branded from head-to-toe in designer clothes, raced around the streets of L.A. in 7-series beamers and trophied silicone bimbos.

He was wasted, his speech was slurring, and his advances were getting bolder.

I peeled his sweaty palm off my bare knee, and stood up.

He stopped me. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” I lied.

Instead, I snuck out of the bar and strolled down the Hollywood Blvd. The air was warm and thick, polluted with pungent scents of weed, cigarettes and greasy food.

My nose bleeding heels walked across the stars, and I dodged the lecherous stares my black, skintight dress earned from the guys that guzzled beer and smoked cigarettes in the nearby bars, and searched for a drunken conquest to take home.

I ignored the salacious invitations, and frowned at the loud whistles.

The man I ditched at the bar was a rebound. He was not you. He was just an aftermath of your nonchalance.

You were right.

I lost myself amidst the bright lights, phony glamour life and pretentious prima donnas. I stabbed you in the back by craving the spotlight – but all I ever wanted was your attention. Not sure where I went wrong.

You got angry; called me an attention whore and marched out of my life.

But, she’s not me.

You blocked my number – was that really necessary? Yet, my name is still on your lips. You still ask about me. If you don’t give a damn anymore then why bother wondering if I’m still alive or dead? Doesn’t make sense.

Yes, I was playing a role, but you were being a coward.

You said I hurt you, but you hurt me first. I bruised your ego a couple of times, but you wounded my pride. You can’t just kiss me and feign ignorance to the feelings that surfaced in the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t want to talk about it then, but what about now? Don’t say it’s complicated. It’s not. I hate that word.

Now be a man, own up to your mistakes. Stop playing games and call me out on mine. Let’s face each other, fist fight through our differences and walk away like grown-ups, not churlish kids.


Kind Wishes


Dear Readers,

With the arrival of a new year, I would like to take the time to wish you love, happiness and health. May your lives be filled with eternal sunshine, sweet, ringing laughter and strong, platinum friendships. May your heart never be poisoned with sadness, may your eyes never cry tears of pain and may your soul never be caged.

You are unique.




And creative.

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, and never pretend to be someone else.

Be yourself. Always.

Kind Wishes

Filthy Sexy Nasty Lust

Selena lies awake in an empty bed. The soft curves of her naked body are enveloped in darkness and her pensive gaze is fixed on the diamond stars that glisten above the tall skyscrapers outside of her windows.

She gives out a hopeless sigh; the kind of a sigh a woman makes when her heart aches for her lover.

The man of her dream is thousands of miles away, on a business trip, and she sates her carnal desire for him with a glass of wine and a boatload of wishful thinking.

Now, her mind is a whirlwind but it’s not riddled with thoughts of her client’s multi-million dollar campaign. It’s infested with dirty, sexy thoughts of him.

She yearns to kiss, bite and lick his lips. She wants him next to her, in this cold and empty bed.

Selena closes her eyes and shuts the world outside. Nothing matters. Not the noisy traffic, not the helicopter in the sky, not even the sound of her phone vibrating against her mirrored side table.

She envisions their bodies tumbling down into a sea of turbulent white, cotton sheets. He lies on top, and his body is warm, inviting and hard as stone. The scent of his skin lingers on her lips and sends a brain-numbing shiver down her spine.

He runs a hand through her midnight-blue locks. His hand is rough and calloused, and yet it feels deliciously soft against her cheek. His thumb outlines the shape of her soft, plump lips, and then it glides down her long neck and finally rests on her collarbone.

Selena gives out a shiver.

Her skin burns underneath his fingertips and with every caress, her body sheds the last ounce of innocence. In its place comes a painfully sensual feeling; it uncoils in the pit of her stomach like a snake and it’s ready to strike.

Selena knows that once she’s bitten, her body will be poisoned with lust.

He waits patiently for her decision, but his treacherous fingers are tracing, caressing, arousing.

Delicately, almost cautiously, her feather-soft lips brush against his and leave a trace of sweetness behind. She relishes the warmth that bursts in the pit of her stomach and pools into her toes and fingertips. His breathing is deep and shallow, and the glisten in his ebony eyes is enough to consume her whole.

He wants her. It’s undeniable.

She parts her lips and welcomes his lust with a wicked grin. His warm breath, sweet as honey and potent as red wine, caresses her cheeks and then his mouth crushes hers in a ‘til-death-do-us-apart kind of a kiss.

The kind of a kiss that threatens to peel the skin off her bones, and robs her lungs of air. The kind of a kiss she wants to share for the rest of her life with the man she fantasizes about almost every single night.

Filthy Sexy Nasty Lust

Author’s Note

A few moons ago I started a blog and surprisingly it gathered a handful of followers. I bubbled with excitement every time I’d receive a positive comment and in many selfless ways, I wanted to cater to my readers. I wanted to share my stories in hopes that they would somehow mend broken hearts, inspire listless minds and instill confidence – perhaps even trigger chuckles and giggles.

Unfortunately, one unbearably hot summer night drove a stake through my blog and killed it. Instead of battling the thunderous sea of emotions I felt towards the anger that simmered inside of my heart, I caved into the demons that danced inside of my mind and buried the blog without so much as an adieu to my fellow readers. I regretted that decision ever since. For I have deprived my rebellious mind of the only creative outlet that fueled my body with happiness, and instead chose to spend countless of nights sitting inside a dark, empty apartment with only hateful words on my tongue and bitter tears in my eyes.

Fortunately, I prevailed and gathered the strength to get up off my knees and walk away from those that caused me pain. Unfortunately, my little monster was dead and I couldn’t revive it.

After much contemplation and strategic planning – yes, a lot of thought had been injected into this idea – and outrageous intake of black coffee on daily basis, I have decided to breathe life into my new monster. I hope it morphs into the kind of a pest that I have in mind and makes me a proud mama.

Before I embark on this wonderful and chaotic journey, and pour my heart and soul across these web pages, I’d like to give you a fair warning.

I’m a human being. Please don’t forget that.

The intentions behind this blog is to challenge, inspire, instill and enlighten – not to spew hatred.

When sharing a sliver of yourself online, you’re bound to face harsh criticism and in order to protect my inner peace, I have decided to write about fictional characters and feelings. The feelings are my own – love, anger, apathy and sorrow – but the characters are just a figment of my imagination. This way, I express myself without being vulnerable.

Thanks for taking the time to read my introduction and hopefully we’ll embark on this wonderful journey together!

Author’s Note