Chapter One #5
Not being able to fight off the thought and stress myself out further, I snatched my phone off the counter and my thumb pressed hard on the Instagram app, hard enough to crack my damn screen if iPhone screens were sensitive enough.
Sure enough, my mentions were full and people were commenting my name on the live.
I wasted no time, clicking on one of the many notifications and his fine, Black ass popped up on my screen.
He was naked from the waist down, minus a white bath towel clung around his waist. His Swiss chocolate-colored skin was glistening with beads of water swarming down the many colorful array of tattoos he had drawn on his skin.
It was obvious that he too had just gotten out of the shower.
Mannishly, the towel hung past his V-line just a tad, showcasing the chiseled V-cut.
He knew exactly how to promote without even trying, because he knew how to sell sex.
I don't know how he could get away with all this stuff, because I could mistakenly have a nip slip and I'd be banned from going live for weeks, but here he was half naked, drenched in fine glory.
Tuning in, he was brushing his veneered teeth and I looked close enough to see the soap suds in his beard, which meant he'd just finished washing his face too.
Just as I was about to exit the live, he put his handsome chocolate face in the camera and grinned, showcasing a porcelain, Colgate white smile that would make a bitch's panties wet.
"There go a piece of fine shit. Y'all done spammed my comments and made her fine ass show up," he grinned in the camera.
Then his face came into view and his hand lingered in the camera only for a second and a notification appeared across my screen for me to join his live.
Suddenly, my heart began doing palpitations.
Quickly I declined it, and he did it again, and I declined the second request too, making him appear back on the screen. To my dismay, he chuckled.
"Tell y'all favorite porn star to join my live and throw her pussy in the air for me to catch it with my tongue," he replied with a smirk.
His deep voice had a gravel to it that could make the earth vibrate.
It also had a little rasp to it, that made it more enticing.
His voice was forty, but his face was twenty and the beard did nothing to make him appear older.
The women in the comments began to spam me again and speak.
They knew how to put two and two together.
Then it made me wonder if he did have a girlfriend who he was entertaining.
How could she sit back and be mute while he flirted with women blatantly online?
I mean shit, he created content with other women and it was never the same face, I knew that much.
Maybe he had her trained or maybe she didn't exist and I was thinking harder than I should've been.
"Lil' miss pretty pussy don't want to tune in and hang wit' the kid," his hardened expression turned into a sad pout, playfully, mimicking that he was hurt.
Dose was every bit of toxic and I wanted no parts in any of it.
Furthermore, I've always been into guys my age or older.
There was nothing a young nigga could offer me besides a headache and I'm too damn grown to be acting like a nigga's mama and playing that role, filling in the gap.
I'll never understand the attraction or whatever people considered to be opposites attracting, because every woman my age had a story about dealing with a guy ten years younger and it never turned out well.
They don't play by the rules and they live dangerous.
Most of them still stay with their mama.
They don't get annual checkups and they don't have a primary care doctor.
Also, they don't have health insurance or a life insurance policy and they're way too entitled, thinking women always owe them something.
I'm grown as hell and playing mind games aren't on my list of to-do shit.
Exiting out the live, I put my phone on DND and focused on the task at hand. I'm sure by now my cheese and ham had gone cold, but I wouldn't waste it, so I prepared it and took a bite, then poured myself a glass of red wine. It was nothing fancy, it's the cheap shit from Aldi's.
Beautifully my plate was prepared, so I grabbed my half-full glass, toasted crackers and saucer.
The sound of my house shoes slapping on the hardwood floors, muted when I took them off a millisecond after entering my room.
I flipped my comforter back after I placed my wine on the nightstand and snuggled in the bed, feeling my silk sheets on my body.
This is my definition of peace and I'd rather keep it this way for the sake of protecting my feelings with only one end goal in mind: money.
I can be as selfish as I want to be, because there was a time in my life when I cared too much about the thoughts of other people.
Now, I don't give a fuck. I'm in my soft girl era, not allowing a fuck nigga to give me gray hairs on my head, matching the ones on my pussy.