Chapter 3
F r i d a y n i g h t s moved different when you stayed out the way. Sitting in my car in a dimly lit parking lot, I held a blunt in one hand and my phone in the other with the QuickieDrop app open.
My name stayed in rotation on that app. People always wanted something after hours like snacks, Plan B, sex toys, and whatever else. I took another pull from the blunt and exhaled slowly out the cracked window, watching the smoke twist up into the night.
Most nights around this time, I’d be somewhere at my ex’s spot, either arguing, fucking, or both. It was always some toxic shit we couldn’t quit. One minute I’d be deep in her guts, the next niggas is yelling about some shit that didn’t even really matter.
Being single again wasn’t the heartbreak playlist type of lonely. Shit felt peaceful like I could breathe in my own spot again without tip-toeing around somebody else’s fucked up attitude. No back-and-forth over dumb shit. No second-guessing myself. No silent treatments or side-eyes over nothing.
Shit, I was twenty-six. I drove a school bus during the day, ran deliveries at night, and stacked my bread in between.
The students respected me, and their parents knew I didn’t play.
After hours, I hustled on my own time. I delivered whatever people needed, no questions asked.
Between my two jobs, shit wasn’t a quick get-rich scheme, but they paid steady, and it kept me out of the streets and caught up in bullshit.
My phone rang and I looked down at the screen, instantly annoyed.
I hit the blunt before answering.“What?”
“Wow,” my ex, Vonnae, said immediately. “That’s how you answer the phone now?”
“I’m busy. What’s up?”
She sucked her teeth through the phone. I could picture her pacing her apartment, bonnet on, mad at herself, but aiming it at me like usual. “So you really not comin’ over?”
“Nah, I’m straight.”
“Ahmad, come on. I miss you.”
“You miss chaos,” I said calmly, blowing out smoke. “Not me.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“What’s fucked up is you breakin’ up wit’ me every other week over some bullshit then actin’ surprised when I finally believe yo’ ass,” I said, flicking ash out the window.
“We done, Vee. Arguin’ all the time and shit.
All that back and forth… one minute we cool, the next we ain’t. Nah, that ain’t good.”
She went quiet for a second. Then softer. “But the sex is good, babe. You know that dick hit like no other.”
“Yeah, but this good dick is tired of toxic pussy.”
“It's like that? You don’t even care!”
“I care enough not to keep doin’ the same dumb shit,” I replied. “I’m workin’. Stackin’ my bread. Credit score goin’ up.”
“Wit’ what? That bus and them lil’ deliveries?”
I laughed once. “Shits addin’ up. Bouta be a homeowner in a few months.”
She huffed. “You choosin’ money over me.”
“Nah,” I corrected. “I’m choosin’ peace. Be easy.” I hung up before she could say anything else and shook my head. Same cycle. Different night. After three years, I was done with the bullshit. I took one more pull from the blunt just as my phone buzzed again.
I raised an eyebrow and tapped it to confirm the pickup. It was a medium-sized box with the weight listed as heavier than average. “I know this ain’t no damn lube,” I muttered, tossing my phone on the passenger seat and backing out of the parking lot.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up to this little discreet adult boutique that sat between a nail shop and some tax office with tinted windows and a red neon sign that just said “After Hours.” They tried to make it lowkey, but it didn’t take a genius to know what time it was.
I walked in with my hoodie up and the delivery badge clipped to my pocket. The little bell above the door jingled as I stepped in, and the warm air hit me instantly, along with the faint smell of strawberries.
The cashier glanced up from her phone and did a double-take. “Oh…” she blinked and smiled, standing a little straighter. “Hi.”
I nodded at her, holding my phone out for her to scan the barcode. “Here to pick up a QuickieDrop.”
She looked me up and down like she forgot how to move for a second. “Uh… yeah. Right. Just a sec.”
Her name tag said "Myra," and she had a tongue ring that peeked out whenever she spoke. She was a light-skinned cutie. Curvy. Full lips. But I wasn’t here for all that.
Still, when she turned around to grab the package, she did it slowly, like she wanted me to look.
I did. She had too much ass not to take a peek.
After scanning the barcode, she handed the box over with both hands, grinning.
“I gotta ask,” she said, leaning forward.
“You ever seen one of these before?” She tapped the top of the box with her long acrylic nails.
“This model is no joke. Dual motion. Clit and G-spot stim. It’s like… top fucking tier.”
I tilted my head. “You tryna impress me wit’ yo’ knowledge ‘bout pussy toys?”
She laughed, biting her lip. “That depends. You single?”
I took the box and gave her a slow smirk. “I might be.”
“Ohhh,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Well, if she ordered this…” she nodded toward the label, “…somebody’s tryna make a statement tonight.”
“I respect it,” I said, tucking the package under my arm. “Handle it yo’self before you depend on the wrong nigga.”
Maya laughed again. “You should come back when you’re not working.”
“I prolly won’t,” I said truthfully. “But you have a good night, mamas.”
I left her there leaning on the counter, still smiling. Then, I got back in my car and set the address. As soon as I dropped that box in the passenger seat, the weight of it made me laugh out loud.
“Nah… she really ordered the industrial-strength silicone dick.”
I shook my head, opened the app, and started the chat. Not because I had to, but just for the hell of it. I hit the message button. After I hit her up, I smirked, pulling out of the lot. Her reply came quicker than I expected and I laughed, shaking my head.
“Oh, she’s spicy,” I said to myself.
Traffic was light, and the city was dead.
It seemed like one of them late nights where everything was open, but nobody was really out unless they had a reason.
I hit her up again asking if she was trying to put herself through the mattress with this package.
Her typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped again.
I whistled low. “Nah, now she got me interested in her box.” I wrote her back and before I knew it, I done told her to fuck with me and fuck that toy. I could feel her energy through the screen as I pulled onto her street, slowing down while my eyes scanned the building numbers.
I parked, killed the engine, and grabbed the box. I adjusted my hoodie and checked my reflection in the dark screen of my phone. I wasn’t pressed for no pussy. I should’ve been keeping to myself, though. It was just something about this customer's energy through the phone that I was feeling.
I knocked once to let her know I was here. Then I leaned back against the wall, one hand holding the box at my side, the other scrolling through my phone. I checked my QuickieDrop stats. After a few more, I’d easily clear my weekly goal.
The longer I stood there, the more curious I got about what type of woman answered back the way she did. She had clap-back energy and pussy confidence, and I liked that shit. Way too many women talked crazy, but was boring as hell in bed.
Just as I clicked into another app, the door opened and goddamn.
She stood there, tall, leaning against the frame like she just knew she was bad in that black robe.
It was tied just enough to keep things interesting but not enough to hide what she was working with.
Smooth brown skin, perky titties poking, and thick thighs.
Her hair was curled up, lip gloss popping, and she smelled good as fuck.
Raising one eyebrow, she looked dead at me like she wasn’t fazed at all. “Are you Ahmad?” she asked, one brow raised.
I nodded once. “You Taelyn?”
She smirked, leaning on the doorframe like she was deciding whether to let me leave or ruin her life. “Are you usually this nosy about what people order through that app?”
“Nah, I usually don’t give a fuck.” I lifted the box slightly. “But this shit… is different.”
She laughed under her breath and reached out for the package. Our hands brushed, and she looked me right in the eye when she asked, “So are you really like that, or are you just all talk?”
I let the smallest smile pull at the corner of my mouth. “They don’t call me the pussy monster for no reason, mamas.”
Her eyes dipped down to my lips. Then my arms. And then she stepped back, slow, just enough to leave the door open behind her.
She didn’t say a word, and she didn’t have to.
I licked my lips once and looked her up and down one more time, already knowing what it was.
She was a freak and she was a little older than me.
I could see it. Not the loud type of freaky, though. She had that closet freak aura.
It’d been a minute since I touched something that didn’t come with problems. And truthfully, I didn’t even know if she came with problems. All I knew was that Taelyn was looking like a meal and I was hungrier than a mahfucka.