Chapter Twelve
DOSE
"Yeah, eat her pussy just like that." My eyes lowered to the nigga on the screen. "You got it," I coached.
In front of me, on my iMac was a desperate couple in need of my help.
As I stated before, I'm always down to do certain things, but gay shit and weird shit.
This shit here...I didn't know what the fuck to call it.
The requests I get on After Dark be mind blowing.
At first I declined the idea of doing it, but after setting up a consultation to pick at their brains, they were desperate.
The wife reached out to me, unbeknownst to her husband.
The way she was talking, I figured she wanted me to fuck her while he watched, but that wasn't it.
She wanted me to watch him eat her pussy, because according to her, I did it better and she wanted him to do it how I did it.
Now, my first thought was how the fuck am I gonna teach a nigga some shit like that, but I thought about it long and hard and agreed.
Once I emailed the invoice, they were happy to send the fifteen grand.
I ain't the one to judge, but he should've went upside her head a few times because the idea of a bitch expressing what goes on in our bedroom with another nigga don't sit right with me.
Yet, he was listening to my every word and she was cumming back to back, with her creamy juices seeping down to her asshole.
"Finger fuck her pussy too. You gotta eat it like you love it, nigga. Eat it like you'll never see that shit again. Eat that pussy 'cuz it belongs to you," I encouraged him.
"Like this?" he asked once he pulled back after doing like I taught him.
"Yeah, you got it."
I'd already given them their money's worth and his wife was trembling—screaming to the top of her fucking lungs. My job was done and they didn't need me anymore.
Unlike them, I had some unfinished business to handle.
After ending the call, I shut my iMac off and stood up from my chair only to see unfinished business standing in the doorway.
"So people pay you to do crazy shit too, huh?"
"You have no idea," I muttered as I walked past her.
The sound of her footsteps pattered against the tile behind me.
"I came here to talk," she blurted out as I sat down on my couch. I'd already walked over to my television stand to grab my weed, swishers, and weed tray so I could roll up.
"Then talk. It don't mean I have to listen to yo ass," I muttered as I crushed up my weed. “How the fuck you get my address anyway?”
Rolling her eyes, she plopped down on the couch beside me, giving me a whiff of that fucking perfume that she knew drove me fucking crazy. “From the roses you got sent to my home. Your address was on the return section.”
The last thing I was expecting was for her to pull up. That's what I'm calling her—"fine shit is way too cute for a thug." Sia wasn't shit but a baby version of me, doing shit that I'd do—pulling up on a nigga like ain't shit went down between us.
I was expecting to see her pretty ass when I opened my door, but who else was it gonna be?
I don't invite niggas to my house, and I for damn sure ain't having a bitch shack up.
Macy and I only made content together, and from the looks of it, that was cut slim because after she exposed her feelings a while ago about dipping out of the industry, nothing else was said between us, and I wasn't reaching out to see where her head was at to convince her otherwise.
The last thing on my mind was another bitch when Sia pulled up looking fine as shit and smelling good. I'd be low down if I sent her goofy ass home in the rain, but I sure as hell wanted to.
My eyes stayed focused on the television that was on low as I rolled my blunt. It held my attention until Sia reached for the remote and shut it off, making me cut my eyes over at her.
Shaking my head, I chuckled with my mouth closed. "You ain't shit."
Sia parted her mouth to speak, but the thunder roared outside, damn near scaring her.
"I left right after you did. I didn't even stay," she mumbled, and I knew what she was referring to.
"How many times you gon' say that shit?"
She swatted at the blunt with her face scrunched up. "Don't smoke that shit around me. I don't like the smell."
"Mane," I clicked my teeth and frowned in deep irritation. "How the fuck you gon' walk yo ass in here and start demanding shit, like you pay bills in this mu'fucka?!" I said, placing the weed grinder on the end table. "Fuck you feeling like?"
"Thank you," she smiled, seeing that I placed it down.
"I need something to be dealing with yo ass."
"I can admit how it looked, but it wasn't like that, Dose."
Shaking my head, I sat upright with my elbows touching my knees, making her scoot closer to me like that was her cue.
"I already know you a groupie hoe. You ain't got to convince me, love."
Playfully, she hit me upside the head. "I have this way of thinking that men will hurt you if you let them."
"We already had this conversation," I uttered nonchalantly as I looked ahead.
My reflection from the television stared back at me.
"Why you keep thinking negative and doing shit that ain't even in yo character?
Have I hurt you? You think I'll try this hard to show you that I want to be with you just to be yo fuck boy?
Pussy ain't hard to come by, love. You know that?
Let me prove myself to you, and then we can talk about the other shit later.
All this Think Like A Man shit ain't doing nothing but turning me off. "
"That's how it goes though. Tell me I'm lying? Y'all chase a woman down for years just to end up hurting her. That's what Safaree did to Erica Mena. I've already put it in my head that if I don't catch feelings—"
I cut her off, saying, "I don't even know who the fuck that is, and that's your problem, Sia.
I can't suffer from what the next nigga did, love.
You bitter. That's all. All that Two Can Play That Game bullshit will leave you alone and bitter as hell.
You're so hurt from whatever the last nigga did that you're blind-sided when a real nigga like me come in yo life and treat you right. I'm all you need, love."
I turned around to face her. There was an unreadable expression on her face that came from a deep-rooted sadness that I wasn't the cause of.
"That's not it, Dose."
"Then tell me. Tell me what you need, Sia."
"I don't need a boy—I need a man. A man who knows how to stay when life gets heavy. Dick is easy to find… I can get that whenever I want. But when the nights get rough and I'm carrying the weight of everything alone, will you be there to soften the hard parts? To love me in-between the lust?"
I pointed that out. "See, that's the difference between boys and men.
A boy gonna show up for the moment… a man gonna stay through the pressure.
Anybody can touch your body, but I'm trying to learn your heart, your mind, the parts of you that get overlooked.
I wanna be the one you call when life starts weighing heavy on you…
not just when you need a distraction. I don't have any intention of hurting you.
I just want to see you bloom and bring out the best in you.
I can tell you've been through enough already. "
She shook her head, fighting tears, but they fell anyway, and I knew I'd beaten it out of her. There was a chip on her shoulder that had been there for years, and she let it nestle and become comfortable. The demon she was battling was the sudden reality that she was trying to hide.
"I didn't come here to cry, nigga!" She sniffled through a laugh.
"You came here to talk, so we doing just that. You always want to be in control. How I'm supposed to be yo man and you the one running shit?" I joked with her.
Reaching over, I wiped her tears, leaning closer so I could kiss her cheek.
"I guess you're right."
I nodded. "I know I am."
Twiddling with her thumbs, she murmured, "I need to leave before I let you fuck me."
"You ain't drive all the way over here in the rain not to get fucked, love," I mumbled, seconds away from tonguing her down.