Sublime Currency(SNEAK PREVIEW)

Another day had arrived- only coz the fuckin sunlight hit me in the eyes. I woke up, still groggy and a little dazed from the party at Nocturnal last night. I looked to the left, my eyes locking on this cat that I had brought home last night…I couldn’t even remember the gist of the convo – I musta been that mudda fuckin drunk. Anyways, I brought him home and he put it on me- dude could fuck, and he made my toes curl…but at the end of the night, that’s all he was- just a fuck. I couldn’t even remember dude’s name…it was something like Derrick, Darrick, or some shit….oh well.

                                          He was cute an all- looked like a mix between Michael Ealy, and fuckin Bruno Mars or somethin. He had a Jesus tat on his left shoulder, and stars tatted on his neck…he was cute, but not boyfriend material- so not my type.

                                          I shoved him. “Get up,”

                                          He groaned, then yawned. “Damn woman, it’s too damn early to be wakin a nigga up. Lemme get a few more hours of sleep,”

                                          “Nigga you aint at home wit yo mama! You need to get up and bounce- I got shit to do,” I said, as I pulled a cigarette from my half empty box of Newports. He rose up, lookin at me all funny an shit. “Damn lil mama, you adamant about maintain yo serenity,”

                                          “Look Derrick”-

                                          “Davenport,”

                                          “Whatever…you a nice guy, an all but- I’m not lookin for anything serious. Furthermore, to even try to be with me, you gotta be doin better than me. I on’t care if yo cuzzin is in the music industry- you aint. And even then, you better be a heavy hitter…I don’t just fuck around with anybody,” I preached.

                                          “Can a nigga at least take a shower?”

                                         “Hell naw! Whut you think this is- a fuckin shelter?” I questioned, lookin at him half crazy. “I don’t want no dick hairs all in my bathtub, on my shower walls and shit. Wash yo ass when you get home,”

                                         He let out a huffin sigh. “Damn you cold, shawty,”

                                        “Aint nuttin,” I huffed, blowin out smoke. Dude got up, and started gettin dressed…I had to admit, he was a soft ass nigga, but he had a hard body. He put on his v-neck tee, then tucked his cell phone in his pocket.

                                         “Ay,”