Daymir
“One day, you need to let me do a whole facial,” Red, my barber says as she massages the Barbé Beard Oil into my mustache and beard.
“Never that. This is all I need,” I tell her.
Once a month, I come into She’s Elite Cutz barber shop for their signature beard treatment.
When I first moved here, this was the spot that Brick recommended.
I came once and have been coming back ever since my first visit.
The owner is a woman, Nyla, and there are ten chairs, seven male barbers and three females.
Nyla has a suite in the back for her celebrity clients.
I don’t trust anyone with my head or beard but Red.
She gets my head right every two weeks and she now has me doing this beard treatment once a month.
I can’t lie; I like it. She washes and conditions my beard, she cleans and treats my skin under my beard, then she puts these hot steam towels on it.
After about ten minutes with the steam towels, she trims and shapes my beard then she finishes the treatment off by massaging the oil in.
This is my favorite part, especially today.
Yesterday, I was at the warehouse until eleven.
No body left until all orders and shipments were processed.
For lunch, I ate the remainder of Imani’s good ass leftovers but for dinner, I ordered for everyone.
I let Hazel pick the place and she chose Smokey’s, a barbecue joint.
I killed a half slab of their ribs plus some potato salad and spicy beans.
By the time, I made it back to the crib, I was tired as fuck.
Them seventeen hours had me tight too, so this treatment is much appreciated today.
It's only noon and the shop is busier than normal. There’s always a crowd but this is more than that. All then chairs are filled, the chest and checkers play tables are filled, and there’s no more seats in the waiting area by the door. At least six or seven niggas are standing waiting.
“What’s up with the crowd?” I ask Red.
“Some racing shit is happening this week,” she says.
“They done brought some furious and fast shit to Crescent Falls,” Pharris, the ol’ head barber says.
Pharris occupies the last chair and talks the most shit up in here.
Out of respect for his age and seniority in the shop, the other barbers let him make it, even when he clowns like this.
Pharris has to be about fifty something but he acts older than that and they said he’s been in the shop since the first day the original owner opened years ago.
“It’s fast and furious, ol’ man,” Dre, another barber says.
“There’s a street race Friday night out on Beacon Road.
It’s a two lane and two railroad tracks cross it.
They race between the stretch of the two tracks.
My brother races and sometimes it’s some big money on the races.
Niggas love to bet on shit. We’ve been packed like this all week. ”
“Nigga, you love to bet on shit,” Red quips and the barbers laugh.
She places her hands on my shoulders. “We’re done,” she says while bringing a large held hand mirror in front of my face.
I admire my beard and nod in appreciation.
“I’m serious about a full facial. Don’t sleep on it.
Plus, we ladies love a man that takes care of his self. ”
“I’m straight with the ladies, Red,” I assure her.
Especially one right now. Imani is still heavy on my mind.
She was on it all day yesterday and after spending all damn day at the warehouse, I called her.
She answered and we talked like two young ass kids for at least an hour.
I went to sleep another night with her on my mind and now, I’m just ready to have her sexy ass in my space tonight.
“I’m sure you do, Philly,” she says. She has called me Philly since my first cut. She removes the drape and I hand her a fifty for her tip.
“Thanks, Red. See next week.”
“Wednesday at eleven.”
I get out of her chair then trek to the counter to pay for my treatment and buy another bottle of the Barbé oil.
I’m out at the crib. When I leave, She’s Elite Cutz, I stop by the Marketplace and get everything for my cheesesteaks.
They offer online ordering and pickup but when it comes to my ribeye, I have to see it and pick it in person.
A Philly made with the wrong steak is not a Philly at all.
When I make it back to the crib, I put up my groceries.
The ribeye has to be sliced super thin for my Philly so I place it in the freezer.
It’s slices better when it’s a little frozen.
Afterwards, I’m going to change. Wednesdays are my days off.
However, my blackphone is always on so I’m accessible if needed but otherwise it’s my day to handle my personal shit, workout, and chill.
Because my condo has three bedrooms and two and a half baths, I converted the smallest bedroom into a workout room with a treadmill, power cage, box jump, and punching bag.
Right as I’m walking into my bedroom to change into shorts and tee to workout, my personal cell vibrates. I look at the screen and see its Imani.
Imani: Hey. Wyd?
Me: Chilling
Imani: Want some company early?
Me: You? Yes.
Imani: Which tower and condo.
Me: Tower 2, number 908. I’ll let the security know you’re coming.
Imani: There in 30.
Because she told me she had to work today, I’m curious what’s up with her coming now but I’m not going to question her at all. She’s coming where I want her to be and hours early. I’m not going to question shit.
Without any hesitation, I notify the desk security through the app. Then switch up my initial intention. I won’t be working out today. Instead, I take a quick shower and change into some black sweats and a black t-shirt. I’m walking back into my living room when my doorbell chimes.
I open my door and fuck! She looks sexy as hell in an orange dress and boots. The boots are all the way up her long legs to her knees and the dress is mid-thigh, giving me a sneak peek of her thick, toned, brown thighs. Her sweet scent takes over my nose and she smells as good as she looks.
“Are you going to let me in?” she coos, voice sultry mixed with sweet.
“Hell yea.”
I step back, open my door wider to let her in, and she steps forward. To my surprise though, she steps right to me. Her heeled boots are giving her added height and she’s now right under my chin and all in my space. She smiles then inches up and pecks my lips.
“Thanks for letting me come early,” she says but then tries to step back.
I’m not having that. She’s this close and her lips soft ass lips were just on mine. I’m not letting her get away from me that fast. So, I slip my arm around her waist and pull her back in closer. She laughs a little when I do.
“I don’t do lil boy kisses.’
“You kissed my forehead at my place,” she counters.
“Trust. That was intentional because I knew if I tasted your lips, I would want more. You just proved what I already knew was true. I definitely want more,” I admit then, I lean in closer, my lips barely a centimeter from hers. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she says quickly then smiles.
My lips crash into hers. I pull her top lip into my mouth then her bottom one, sucking on them both.
Then, my tongue glides across her bottom lip before it slides inside of her welcoming mouth.
Our tongues meet for the first time and they tussle passionately.
While my mouth devours hers, my hands do their own thing and grip her ass.
When she moans into my mouth, I smile to myself.
This is what I wanted to do the first time our eyes met.
Her arms raise and she rests them on my shoulders. Her soft hands caress my neck as I feel her press into me. Our kiss deepens and she lightly purrs, sounding sultry as fuck. My dick naturally reacts; she has my full attention and I know I have hers.
When I break our kiss, I move my lips to her neck. As I plant kisses on it, she moans again. Then, she whispers in my ear.
“Give me a tour but start in your bedroom.” Her words cause my head to lift and I look into her eyes. I hear her but my dick has its own interpretation of her words and I need to know if it’s hearing what I think.
If we go into my bedroom, the only tour will be my tour of her body.
Her hands drop for my neck and she brushes them down my arm.
Her hand grabs my hand then she slightly pulls it.
My eyes are still staring into hers, trying to make sure we are on the same page.
I want the hell out of Imani but I don’t want to cause my desire or anxious dick to fuck shit up before we even get started.
However, the next words out of her mouth tell me all I need to know.
“Bedroom please. Don’t you want to see what’s under this dress?”
“Shit, I wanna taste it too,” I admit.
When I lead her into my bedroom, she releases my hand and remains by the door. Her eyes take a tour of it and she smiles as she does. Then, she looks up at me.
“Sit on the bed,” she says and that beautiful smile on her face has me stepping to my bed.
When I’m sitting on it, she saunters over to me, places her hands on my shoulder, then anchors her knees to my sides, straddling me.
She pushes her hair from the side of her face.
This close I see something in her eyes that I didn’t notice before.
I can’t put my finger on it but they look different, less vibrant.
“You good?” I ask.
“I am now,” she says and for the sake of this moment, I choose to believe her. Slowly, she nods her head then adds, “I like your room. It fits.”