Monthly Archives: April 2016

Romance by Rg2®: ‘Would You Mind Company the Rest of Your Life?’ A Novel: (Excerpt from the forthcoming novel by Rg2) Ch. 3: To Thyself Be True

a young woman reading a paperback on a train journey.


Chapter 3: To Thyself Be True

“. . . the woman has a dilemma—a juicy dilemma.” -Rg2

“Bev.” The uneasy voice at the other end of the line grabbed Beverly’s attention.
“Joan?” she replied in a raspy tone, lazily looking over at the glowing red digital numbers on her nightclock reading one forty-eight a.m. “Is everything okay?”
“Sorry to call so late. I hope I didn’t wake your husband.”
Beverly instinctively glanced over her shoulder only to find Stan crouched in perfect still, eyes fixedly closed and mouth partially open, his snores intensifying with each breath.
“He’s in another world. What’s the matter, hon?” she asked with a motherly concern, worried by the unusual lateness of the call.
“I need to talk to someone,” Joan let go hesitantly. “I would’ve called my mom, but she’s away, and with everything she’s going through right now, I just . . . ”
Beverly cut in, “Joan, you know you can call me anytime. Hold on a minute. I’ll change phones.” She reached for her evening gown and made her way downstairs to the study.
“What is it, Joan?”
“I saw him tonight.”
“You saw who tonight?”
“Who’s Devern?”
“Devern Garrett. I met him a few weeks ago at the studio. He just came out of nowhere, Bev.”
“Go on,” Beverly replied, listening intently to not just her words, but the inflections of her voice, as if a psychiatrist.
“He’s asked me to spend Christmas with him. I told him I had plans already.”
“Yes. But I wasn’t totally honest.”
“Roger’s the only man I’ve ever heard you speak of. Does Devern know about him?”
“Well, no, not really. Why does he need to know about Roger?”
“For the same reason you felt compelled to be dishonest with him about your plans for the holiday,” Beverly replied, her maternal instincts and years of relationship experience starting to come into play. Joan took a moment to let the comment sink in.
“This Devern guy, he must be quite fond of you to want to share Christmas. How do you feel about him, Joan?”
“Bev, you know how I feel about Roger.”
“I didn’t ask how you feel about Roger. I’m asking about Devern. How do you feel about him?”
As simple as the question was, Joan struggled with the answer. She really hadn’t taken the time to analyze her feelings. But sure enough, having let the cat out to Beverly, the litigator who dissects matters of the heart as well as she does legal cases, self-analysis was unavoidable.
“I think about him. And I don’t know why I do.”
“You say you’ve known him for only a few weeks?”
“Yes. We’ve had dinner and I’ve been to his place and . . . ”
“You’ve been to his place,” Beverly repeated her statement, her voice suddenly taking on a more authoritative pitch. “You, you didn’t…”
Before she could even finish the sentence, Joan interjected.
“No! Of course we didn’t, Bev. Nothing happened. He just held me,” she assured her, the cadence of her voice softening at the end.
“Hmm,” Bev released, questions beginning to creep into her mind. “I don’t know too many men who invite women to their place for just an innocent snuggling session.”
The comment made Joan a little ticked.
“I may as well be talking to my mother about this.”
Detecting the curtness in Joan’s reply, Beverly realized she was parenting instead of listening.
She eased up. Besides, she knew Joan had good taste in men.
“So how does he look?” Beverly inquired, her curiosity indicating to Joan that she was now wide awake. Delicious girl talk respected no time frames. The spontaneous question lightened the mood of the conversation instantly. Knowing Beverly as she did, Joan saw it coming.
“What does that matter?”
“Oh, come on, girl. You know the man’s gotta have something going for him physically. Is he attractive?”
Egged on by Bev’s excitable curiosity, Joan began to visualize his face . . . the ruggedly polished five o’clock and carefully carved mustache against his brownstone skin, the dark, halting eyes inset beneath thick brows, the seemingly sculpted jaw and hand-drawn lips that begged for repeated kisses. She forgot someone was on the other end.
“Well, Joan?”
“Just over six feet. Deceivingly slender. Mild spoken. Nicely dressed. He reminds me of my father.”
The last part struck a chord. A recent encounter flashed in Beverly’s mind.
“This wouldn’t be the guy that came by the office a few days ago, would it?”
The question was met with a brief pause.
“Yes, that’s Devern.”
“Umm, yum-yum,” Beverly gestured softly, careful not to speak too loudly lest Stan should walk in and question her past-midnight chatting. Joan couldn’t help but laugh, considering her friend’s weakness for attractive men. Though she was happily married, Beverly’s window shopping days were far from over.
“I see why you haven’t told Roger about him.”
“Oh, Bev, stop it,” Joan replied, attempting to defuse any notions that Devern was a threat to her relationship with the blue-eyed entrepreneur. “Roger’s my heart, you know that.”
“Uh huh,” Beverly remarked, not exactly convinced of the declaration. “So why do you think of Devern?”
Joan feigned a yawn at the appropriate moment and decided to end the conversation, declining to answer the question.
“Well, it’s late, Bev. I’ve kept you up entirely too long. Stan’s probably wondering where you are.”
“Yeah, he probably is,” Bev returned, aware that her friend really wasn’t ready to deal with what seemed to be hidden emotion. She let it go at that.
“Night, Joan.”



Love Letters, Poetry, Novels . . . Romance. -Rg2

© Roy Greer/Romance by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 29, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 309: ‘Pamper Prince Friday . . . and Ever After’ A Love Letter

The Genius Prince & love on the run image © David Z Rivkin

The Genius Prince & love on the run
image © David Z Rivkin


“Just once, I wanna make love without taking off my clothes.” -Prince


Dear Love,

Contrary to rumor, beautiful men get lonely, too.

Who am I to assume Prince Rogers Nelson was lonely. After having lost his babyboy soon after his birth, I can only imagine the devastation; an heir gone much too soon.

Remember when his father, John L. Nelson, forewarned him, “You plan to marry? . . . don’t ever get married.” I don’t think Prince ever forgot that haunting advice. Who could?

As much as he may have internalized it, though, he didn’t allow it to deter his free will. A young man becomes a man when he makes his own decisions and faces the results. Prince was his own man.

I wonder if he ever found peace. Inner peace. Sure, being a genius in one’s artistry, which he was in every sense of the word, is the easy part. I mean, ask Michael, ask Steve Jobs, ask Kobe and Tiger.

It’s the “life” part that, where, the devil is in the details.

I mean, when one has attained a bounty of fame and fortune, how do you truly measure the sincerity, the integrity, the genuineness of another’s heart, their intent?

Celebrity can’t help but breed suspicion—I imagine. I mean, a man of assets, a woman of affluence, can ill afford to be naive in the affairs of the heart, no? Hence, the loneliness. Lurking there, somewhere, in the sanctum. Does it ever truly go away?

Man, I hope Prince didn’t pass away with loneliness in his heart. For he gave legions of music lovers around the globe every ounce of what his Maker had bestowed to him: Love.

I’m sad. Not so much that Prince is gone; his body, mind and soul are now at holistic peace. He’s up there now getting ready to put on a show with his idol Jimi Hendrix. Imagine trying to get tickets to that performance!

I’m sad because, as much as a genius is said to be born somewhere on Earth each day, who’s gonna measure up to Prince and Michael, in whom love and humanity were the very essence of their creativity?

Gosh, we’ve lost another of our giants, love. Prince Rogers Nelson may well be the last of that very rare breed of life enhancer unparalleled.

I want you to come over this evening. We’re going nostalgic. I’m pulling out the VCR from the closet and the “Purple Rain” VHS tape.

I’m hand-tossing a homemade brick-oven pizza and chilling a couple bottles of Cabernet Franc, vintage 1999.

I’m pampering you tonight, woman.

God, pamper Prince Rogers Nelson.

Tender are my thoughts,


Heaven hues purple with a paisley-covered gate . . . a Prince is called home, the doves cry, I relate. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 22, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 308: ‘To Vanessa with Love…Forever, Kobe’ A Love Letter

The Immortal Kobe & Vanessa Bryant: photo by Harry How/Getty Images

The Immortal Kobe & Vanessa Bryant: photo by Harry How/Getty Images


“To Vanessa with Love . . .

Dear Vanessa,

The 60 points of light on a magic-filled night
Some say it was something of a parting gift,
Honestly, I hit those in my sleep—next to you
I leave enough stats for the historians to sift

But the one that matters most to me is the years
You’ve unflinchingly remained by my side,
The mistakes I’ve made, my human flaws
The sacred vow by which we promised to abide

Vitti once said ball, for me, comes too easy
Perhaps, but the countless hours certainly didn’t hurt,
The court was my sanctuary and you my refuge
I knew you wouldn’t abandon me, you wouldn’t desert

The man into whom I could eventually evolve
You proved willing to see this journey through,
Adulation I didn’t seek–respect was my demand
I had to earn yours, Vanessa, I’ve done all I can do

Jordan I was chasing, immortality my private goal
No angles taken, my teammates I cut no slack,
There isn’t a shot I ever took about which I regret
Except what might have been a couple more with Shaq

A selfishness, they said, but greatness toils alone
I poured it all: Blood, sweat, injuries, hidden tears,
A war of attrition I approached that hardwood zone
Determined to expose my opponents’ fears

If I harbored a few, surely no one knew
That one unspoken fear that haunts me still,
That I might lose my anchor in the storms—it’s you
An invaluable partner for this new soil to till:

Kobe Inc., philanthropy, documentaries to produce
Above all, our two most beautiful angels to raise,
This second act of life I cannot do alone
I need you, babygirl, to clear the fog and the haze

Of a purpose yet defined for a life off the court
No other in the world knows better my inner needs,
Mamba’s strike need no longer be deadly
When my chest is cut, it’s your heart that bleeds

Thank you, my Love, your fidelity and strength
For everything this basketball life has put you through,
My commitment no longer divided by hoops and family
I left it all there . . . now this is what I vow to do:

Pamper you and the girls like a father in full
The Black Mamba’s “in,” what more can I say,
Father Time didn’t win–you, my angels, did
We’re going to Disneyland this Pamper-Her-Friday!

Forever yours,



Romance . . . through the storm . . . lives. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 15, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 307: ‘Facebook Live, Featuring Romance by Rg2®’

Fire & Desire


“Facebook Live, Featuring Romance by Rg2®”

I bought you a share of Amazon–yes, the site
It looks frothy but I like Jeff Bezos’ vision,
The echo is a hit and cloud storage has might
Why only one share? My executive decision:

One is enough for the shareholders meeting
We’ll make it a recreational excursion, feel?
Besides, I don’t want you to mistake obligation
For what is a sweet, harmless pamper-her deal

Looked at Apple . . . and it’s essentially a bank
But Steve the Genius is gone–can they still innovate?
There’s whisper that phone sales will disappoint
And the long lines of yore have begun to dissipate

Even looked at Tesla, the eCar manufacturer
Making clean-tech inroads, have you seen the Model 3?
Some 325,000 deposits at a thousand duckets each
That’s $325M upfront for Musk to deliver . . . we’ll see

Let’s test drive one first—the proof is in the cockpit
And consider the still-not-prevalent recharge stations,
The overwhelming majority of vehicles are fossil fueled
And of course the other makers have rival inclinations

Still, I like Tesla as a disruptor of the status quo
The others are forced to continually up their game,
Like a market of romance writers fighting for lovely readers
If I only attract one, God, let her have your name

Why? Because it takes only one to feel the scribe’s touch
Perhaps she’ll share his creative with a few friends,
Before one knows, a domino is in full effect
And an amelioration of collective life begins

Oh, before I forget, I did another stock study
I like what Zuckerberg and team are doing with facebook:
The Oculus virtual reality headsets are ready to ship
User volume of WhatsApp and Instagram is off the hook

And Facebook Live is TV in the palm of your hand
I’m getting ready to broadcast Romance by Rg2® to you,
If you’ll give me 3 to 5 minutes of your Friday, woman
There’s no telling the sheer magic this creator can do

Yes, some shares of the network I’ve placed in your name
No matter what the market does, we’re holding on,
Why the gift? It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, my lovely reader
Think of it as a small jackpot we’ve mutually won.



Pamper the woman . . . just because. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 8, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 306: ‘Woman on the Mind’ (Rated Rg2: Reader Discretion Advised)

Dinner afterdark

“Woman on the Mind”
Woman, you entered my creative mind this morning . . .
Took up residence, didn’t even bother to knock,
I wish you hadn’t done such a provocative thing
For now I find myself glancing at the clock
Mentally counting the milliseconds, the seconds . . .
the minutes to dawn of that pivotal day of the week,
You know: Monday, Me; Tuesday, You; Wednesday . . .
Alternating thoughts we’ve yet to verbally speak
A brief message here, a phone tickle there
Your fragrance seems to emit from my handheld,
Managing to keep a lid on my impulses–barely
Two souls floating uninhibited could likely meld
Maybe I’m wrong, but you long for pampering
And I’ve been blessed with the most gifted hands,
While Dr. Carson was performing neurosurgery
I’ve been perfecting the elements of higher romance
No, I’m no journeyman; I’ve gone largely untouched
Unblemished, unspoiled, untainted still,
A man doesn’t know what he’s doing ’til 40
My apprenticeship’s been anything but run of the mill
The many facets of your life I’m keenly attuned
Education; career achievement; material playthings,
Spirituality; Emotionality; Self-actualization
And then those silent moments when the skin sings . . .
After-dark songs, let’s do away with the thong
Aeration heightens the art of stimulation,
Yes, there’s an art to the pamper-her endeavor
I’ll introduce you to osteopathic articulation
Skin’s relationship to muscle’s relationship to bone
Must all be in harmony with the comprehensive mind,
The unclothed body naturally seeks full health
Though it responds most to the touch of a distinct kind
You will be speechless, so gleefully speechless
Except the occasional outburst of ooh and ahh,
Lambrusco on the palate, Pete Belasco on horn
And on the neck and earlobes I will gently gnaw
Time well spent, my, how it came and went
Unfortunately lush pampering doesn’t wear its stay,
The most precious things are of limited supply
My promise is an unforgettable Pamper-Her-Friday.
Pamper the woman . . . meticulously. -Rg2
© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on April 1, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday

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