A debt has been incurred. And they've come to collect.
Vanessa Cruz is a young black woman, simply trying to survive in a world set up to conspire against her prosperity. Grinding Monday to Friday, and working Friday to Sunday left her no room to h...
Moodlist Push It - TWENTY88 Nuestro Planeta - Kali Uchis featuring Reykon Blow - Beyoncé Need To Know - Doja Cat
"Italics" - means another language is being spoken.
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The footsteps came to a halt. At first I was confused, but the muffled sounds of the 'Opening' ringtone, presumably being emitted by his phone, hit my ears and answered my question. A sigh could be heard before his deep voice muttered a greeting. His voice became more and more difficult to distinguish, footsteps also decreasing in volume. Eventually, he was out of earshot altogether.
Saved by the cell.
I hadn't heard the door open or close so whatever the matter was, couldn't have been severe enough to require his physical presence. I decided to seize the opportunity, and take a quick shower by myself. For both my mental health and the integrity of my silk press. I was trying to serve up the fantasy, and just moments ago had been willing to sacrifice a perfectly good press, that had taken me longer than I even wanted to think about. Now however, I would be able to implement a shower cap, over a quick doobie wrap, which I was certain was not what Mr Leone wanted to see tonight.
In hindsight, this was a wasted effort. I ended up sweating it out anyway.
I had just gotten around to putting my robe back on after moisturising the last bit of my skin when he came back. My hair was out of the shower cap, tied up in a loose top knot, in anticipation of tonight's events.
He had obviously heard the shower going, as when it cut off, he had taken my departure of the bathroom as his cue to take care of his hygienic needs. He made no effort to excuse himself for the unforeseen interruption of our cat and mouse game. With only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his exposed skin glistened ever so slightly.
At least he's not tryna slide ashy as hell.
My mirth became apparent by the small smile that danced along my lips. He took a seat on the bed, facing me, while I sat in the armchair at the side of it. He saw that I was trying to hold back laughter, and ensued his own battle. Before long, the room was filled with boisterous laughter from both of us. Just like that, the tension dissipated.
Once shoulders settled and eyes were wiped, a conversation ensued. I started it, choosing to use honesty as my policy.
"So what do you like?"
A simple question, yet it raised his brow. He knew what I meant but seemed intent on playing wilfully ignorant. I eventually took the bait and rephrased my question.
"I mean, what do you like sexually?"
He made a dramatic show of leaning back and stroking his chin, as if deep in thought. His posture was relaxed, and he looked good. I could tell he exercised regularly, but he wasn't sculpted to the nth degree. He didn't have a lot of body hair, for which I was grateful. He seemed to have a smattering of tattoos across his torso and arms, which added to his appeal.
