Chapter 39 Geneva

Geneva

It was just past ten. Charlie was sound asleep and Eric was sprawled out on the living-room couch, talking on the phone with Juuuuuuuuuuuulie.

Me, I was in my bedroom in front of the mirror, trying to pull myself together after having the shock of my life a few moments earlier while sitting on the toilet.

I’d barely looked down there…you know, at my vagina.

I mean, everything I needed to do to it, or for it, was so automatic—washing, wiping—it was just something that’s done without any thought, but for some reason as I was sitting there daydreaming, my eyes moved down to that vicinity, and I saw what I thought was a stray thread from my underwear, but when I pulled it, to my horror, I found out that it was attached!

It was a gray hair! On further examination, I found that it had family! I counted six!

When had this happened? I didn’t have not one gray hair on my head, so why the hell were they invading the space around my pleasure palace?

Oh, the shame.

So I found myself standing in front of the mirror, looking at the sad state my body had fallen into.

I cursed myself as I glared at my reflection.

Was that me, dressed in a pair of washed-out pink drawers complete with tattered waistband?

Was that my gut? So large and protruding that my sagging titties used it as a shelf?

I looked a mess. A complete and utter mess!

Who was I fooling? Deeka couldn’t possibly want that, I thought as I pointed an accusing finger at my reflection. Chevy’s comment about Will Smith being too good-looking to want me rang in my ears. The truth always hurt, didn’t it?

Deeka was young and good-looking—better-looking than Will Smith, so if Will wouldn’t want me, why the hell would Deeka?

He was on the road to success, and I was sure that in the next few years he would be walking somebody’s red carpet, and would I be the one to be at his side? I doubted it—shit, I was no Jada Pinkett!

Shutting off the light, I climbed into bed and told myself that that was it.

I wasn’t going to allow this fling to go any further, because the natural next stop would be sex.

And there was no damn way I was going to spread my thirtysomething-year-old legs for a twentysomething-year-old man and have him fall off the bed with laughter when he spotted those gray hairs of mine!

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