tagNon-EroticSoulStar: The Beginning

SoulStar: The Beginning


* Eric Soul can't wait to marry his fiancee, a talented R&B singer from Brooklyn. But when she mysteriously vanishes, Eric has absolutely no time to lose, before she falls into the arms of another, forever. *

In the master bedroom of a high-rise condo, an explosive allegation had been revealed to Ariel Starr, a gorgeous, rising star of an R & B singer, recently signed to Hype Entertainment. Up until this moment, she had had it all- talent, world-class beauty, support and a loving fiancée. One that loved her for her strength, her work ethic, skills, and of course, her mind numbing beauty and sensuality. But all of what Ariel had known came grinding to a halt the moment Gianna Visconti had shared the bomb of an allegation moments ago.

And Ariel couldn't believe her ears. Gianna's sparkling hazel eyes burned straight through her, filled with sorrow and empathy. She allowed Gianna to take her in her arms, while Julisa Jones followed suit. Soon, Ariel's tears flowed, salty and warm down her clear, golden-brown face. She heard Julisa's voice close to her ear, feeling the vibrations that went straight to her heart.

"It's true...I saw Eric come out of the hotel room with this redhead bitch."

She said it softly, but the force behind her statement was so provocative and compelling that Ariel wanted to tear away, run and find Eric. Ask him what his new chick had that she didn't. Shout him down, regardless of where she found him. Ariel was too hurt to wipe away her tears at this point. These women had been her best friends since the day they'd met at performance art school in Brooklyn. They always had each other's backs no matter what. She held them just as tightly as they held her. Ariel's decision had been made.

Eric slammed on breaks as a sleek, 67' black Shelby Mustang shot across his path in the narrow parking garage. His silver Spyder had no problems stopping on a dime, but nevertheless irritation flashed through him. He recognized the car as Gianna's. Where she'd gotten her license was beyond him. Probably the same place she'd gotten her manners.

He shrugged it off with no problems, thoughts instantly turning to his beloved. It was true; Eric knew that he was one of the luckiest men in the city. Ariel was the most beautiful, eligible, gracious and talented woman he had ever known. He had always had a sore spot for women of color, but he and his future wife had been connected by some astral force that transcended ethnicity and class altogether. Eric continued to be amazed by her every day.

Although she had her pick of pretty any man she wanted, Ariel had publicly declared that her heart belonged to one man and one man alone. It meant worlds to him. In fact, mere hours ago, he had met with a friend of his, Adrienne Renoir, an internationally acclaimed artist, about creating a sculpture exclusively inspired by Ariel. Adrienne had been blown away by Ariel's curves- starting with her famously tiny waist and shapely yet ample, peach behind.

Next, Adrienne had taken in her full, extra perky C-Cup and naturally long, soft curls that framed the stunning face. Eric had gone to business school with this woman. She was hard to sell. But upon seeing Ariel, there wasn't a doubt in her mind. She was sold.

Eric whistled a tune as he replayed the business meeting with Adrienne in his mind. He knew the love of his life well. She would be beside herself with joy and disbelief that Eric had shown her, yet again just how much he cared for her. He pulled out the bottle of Jouët Fleur de Champagne Rosé before he locked the car. Ariel was a fan of pink champagne and this was her favorite. Tonight was going to be one to remember.

Eric inserted the brass key into the sleek wooden door of their 14th floor condo, unlocking the door in one movement. He was surprised to find that the condo was dark. Ariel was usually composing a song on the Baby Grand in the living room or putting together one of her legendary recipes. Eric instantly placed himself on high alert. Something was wrong here...

Two steps in, glass crunched beneath the J's he had just changed into.

"What the..."

Eric almost dropped the bottle as he lunged, by memory for the light switch. The lights blossomed into brightness, casting their warm, ambient bloom across his usually gorgeous and sparse high-rise home. Eric's adrenaline fired up in under a second, as he surmised how totally fucking trashed the place was. The very same place he and Ariel had furnished from the ground up with love.


Eric's usually deep, sexy voice was replaced by an urgent, dangerous sounding one as he set the bottle down on their dining room table.

"Over here..."

Ariel's voice sounded different, but he didn't quite register just how different it was as he moved fluidly, striding over a smashed lamp, soiled tablecloth, ruined rare china and the heirloom candlesticks Ariel's Grandmother had left her posthumously.

"Ariel, talk to me...where are you!"

Through his peripheral view, Eric detected the telltale sound of clicking heels coming from his left, accompanied by a feminine form. He turned automatically, arms moving with him. All he cared about was Ariel's safety.

"Hello Eric."

Eric stopped cold at what he saw.

Gianna Kulani Visconti's face and voluptuous body greeted him, in place of Ariel's.

"Gianna. What the hell is going on here? You almost hit me on your way outta here like five minutes ago."

Gianna took a step towards him, placing one carefully manicured hand on the wall. Eric noticed with a jolt that a portrait of himself and Ariel on their engagement day had been hanging in the very same spot. His eyes darted around, but the framed photograph was nowhere to be found.

Eric sensed Gianna's body heat. Her sex was radiating outwards and Eric was affected by it. Disgusted, he took a step backwards, eyes focusing on the woman Ariel had called one of her best girls for five years now.

"I want answers Gianna, right now."

Eric took her in, confusion and anger rapidly multiplying in his mind. His face was perfectly straight however, betraying none of the emotions he felt inside.

She was an Italian/Samoan beauty queen, and had gotten as far as Ms. World last year. Gianna's pageant career had shuddered to a halt amid allegations that she had put in overtime with one of judges, Jack Snyder, otherwise known as the billionaire baron.

Long, dark hair framed her golden tanned face, blunt bangs giving her deep hazel/gray eyes an unspeakable aura of mystery and sexiness. What struck Eric most about Gianna was the fact that tonight she had chosen to dress...just like Ariel usually did. In a flowing, Kimono style robe that was sunset rose in color, adorned with flashing, gold embroidery. It stopped well above the knee and was hanging open slightly to reveal blush-worthy cleavage and a wicked body, covered by a sheer fabric of some sort.

"I see you looking Eric..."

She took another step towards him, graceful arm extending outward. Her hand was about to rest on his chiseled chest when Eric grabbed her wrist without warning, turning Gianna like they were partners in a forbidden dance.

She felt herself get excited, heat rising to her cheeks. Gianna pressed her body into Eric's pelvis and she moaned slightly in anticipation. His lips were mere inches away from her ear, and his low, threatening tone vibrated in her eardrums.

"Listen carefully, woman. I have never cared for you. My wife is my heart. And I want her back."

He released Gianna and the robe flowed open. Slightly disheveled, she turned to face him. Hand running through her silk-like hair.

"If you really wanna know, I gave Ariel my car and I gave her the keys to Jack's cabana. I'm here to take of you. She left you...baby."

Eric got in Gianna's face, but she knew he was too good, too pure to ever hit a woman. All his anger and closeness did was turn her on anyways.

"You're lying. You're a cunning little..."


Gianna's eyes flashed. Eric's face hardened. He continued.

"Listen G, all I want is my wife. You can have whatever you want. Money, a new Doctor 90210, cars, it's all yours."

Gianna chose to discard his plastic surgery jab.

"You keep calling her your wife. What, did you take the girl next door on a special fucking fieldtrip to the Justice of the Peace?"

She placed both palms on Eric's broad chest, which was rising and falling more quickly than normal.

His heart was beating and through his anger, Gianna could see that Eric was actually sick with worry. Anyone who didn't know the man would never have picked up on that detail. She stood on the tiptoes of her Gianmarco Lorenzi heels and leaned in close to Eric's ears, speaking in provocative, barely audible tones.

"Julisa and I saw you with that redheaded bitch..."

She felt Eric tense instantly.

"Coming out of the Presidential Suite of the Four Seasons."

Eric's anger and anxiety exploded out of him.

"That was a private business meeting!"

He boomed. Gianna shushed him and pulled back. She stepped sideways and began circling Eric in a slow, sultry manner.

"Oh, I bet."

The kimono fluttered to the floor. Gianna's beautiful, yet manufactured body was clad only in a tiny red, lace thong, and he could see through the matching bra, to her perky nipples. Eric closed his eyes, one rogue tear managing to slide out of the right one, finally betraying his true emotions.

"Aw...look at you...If you can believe it, I was actually pissed for Ariel. But it made me hot too."

Eric was shaking his head.

"You're crazy...you're out...of your fucking...mind."

"I've always been jealous. I've always wanted what she has. What can I say, I'm a bitch."

Gianna released a little musical laugh that expressed the darkness within her.

"But my beauty justifies my flaws."

Suddenly, Eric's hands were around Gianna's slender, graceful, throat.

She let out a short gasp as his thumbs throbbed slightly against her jugular vein. Eric's perpetual action was suspended, and Gianna felt no pain and barely any pressure from his grasp.

"You're such a good man... maybe that's why we belong together. Opposites attract you know..."

Eric's grip tightened for a second, but he let go of Gianna. Her clitoris throbbed slightly. All she wanted was this giant of a man inside of her, all night long. Eric approached her, bent to pick up her Kimono and tossed it at her like she was garbage. For the first time this evening, angry daggers could be seen in Gianna's stormy eyes.

Eric started down the hallway, various items crunching beneath his feet.

"When I come back, you better fucking be gone. I swear on my life."

He pointed a finger at Gianna and she could almost feel the pressure between her breasts.

"Fuck you! You don't deserve me anyways!"

"Yeah, keep dreaming you psycho..."

Eric was already dialing a number on his phone.

He slammed the door behind him on his way out, bringing the phone up to his ear. His boy Damion, answered in two rings.

"Eric, what's good."

"I need your help, Dame. It's about Ariel. She's gone, somebody has her."

"Say no more. I got you."

Twenty minutes later, Damion gunned the engine of the Spyder, lurching forward and halfway pulverizing the legendary Hype Music fountain. Eric closed his eyes. Damion had always been his closest friend, ever since they'd met, years ago in the Section 8 hellhole that they had once called home. He would come back for Damion, if it was the last thing he did.

All around him, all hell broke loose as an underground geyser erupted, shooting out of the confines of the earth to relentlessly shower the perfectly manicured lawns, Bugattis and Maybachs that decorated the formidable grounds of the record label's headquarters.

Eric didn't spare a moment, surveying Damion's excellent handiwork. He owed the guy his life, or something like it. Eric only had one shot to get her back and Damion had made it possible by creating this genius diversion. With this in mind, Eric's instincts took over and he launched himself forward into the night, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and going unnoticed, as a conundrum of pissed off, confused and slightly scared people flowed out of the multimillion dollar building in mass exodus, all coming to see just what in the Sam hell was going on.

He could see the plan was already working, beautifully. Jahir "J-Mac" White had just hurtled out of a side entrance, hand disappearing down the back of his jeans, looking for his heat. Some long abandoned, but never forgotten side of Eric wanted to run up on J-Mac and give him a dirty shot straight to the jaw for putting those hands on his wife. Forget it, Eric told himself forcefully, as he tore his eyes away from the 6"3 rapper.

Eric barely made it to the door before it snapped shut, which would have sealed him off from her forever. Eric was quick to look before he leaped. It was well-known that Hype Entertainment kept Israel Special Forces detail to intimidate the hell out of rival artists, gangbangers, drug dealers and robbers. Whatever was standing between Eric and his future wife, he was dedicated to taking it down, no matter what it took.

'Movement caught his eye to the right and Eric moved instinctively as an object sliced the air where the side of his head had been. A blade sliced across his shoulder, cutting through his shirt. He grunted, biting down on his lip so as not to shout into the din. Jack Baron's arrogant, infuriating voice diffused through the darkness. Eric felt white fire where the razor-sharp knife had sliced him.

"How nice of you to join me. Looks like we had the same idea. I know you're looking for Ariel. Don't bother...Because she's-"


Eric took advantage of Jack running his stupid mouth, and took the opportunity to nail him dead in the face. There was a crack and the two men reacted. Jack hollered briefly in pain as blood shot out of his nose and Eric's knuckles suffered the aftershock. He exhaled the splintering pain and picked up the knife as it clattered to the ground. In the din of whatever room they were in, Eric recognized Jack's choice weapon as an SOG Seal Knife. Quite possibly the most dangerous combat knife he had ever seen. Even with this crazy-ass weapon, Jack was losing. No match for Eric. He let Jack know his thoughts, mid-stride.

"Fuck a Billionaire Baron... I feel like Bitch Baron is more your speed."

Jack tried to lunge at Eric's legs from the ground and Eric stepped down on one of his hands, producing an audible cracking noise. He kept walking, shaking his head in tandem as Jack's enraged voice thundered.

"You mad?"

The magnificent double staircase came into view, and Eric knew that "the" recording studio was at the very top of it. His wife was waiting there. He spoke to her mentally. "I'm coming."

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