Chapter 1

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I'm Dezurae J'dae Dancer. I'm 30 years old, 5'7" tall, 180 pounds, with chocolate brown skin, brown eyes and black hair that just brushes my shoulders. My figure is nice. Perfect titties, flat tummy, thick thighs and an ass so fat you can sit a cup on it. But even looking as good as I do I'm ignored at home. My husband of six years, Kenneth Dancer, doesn't even touch me anymore. And he hasn't in at least a year.

"I'm heading in," he called to me as he walked downstairs. "Don't forget to fix up one of the guest rooms. I'm bringing my assigned case home today."

I nodded and he rushed out the door. I rolled my eyes and stood. Might as well do the shit now. I walked upstairs and down the right hallway. This house used to be my father's. But when he died of course his only child received it. I walked into the second door and straight to the linen closet. I quickly made the bed and dusted before sprinkling a carpet cleaner all over the floor then vacuuming it up. I checked that everything else was in order before leaving the room as my phone dinged. My girl was texting me.

Kita: tell me u dressed & shit. We got shopping to do.

Me: Yeah best frin. Comin.

I hurried downstairs and snatched up my brand new purse and grabbed up my keys to my Benz. I smiled as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The yellow romper hugged my chocolate body perfectly. I walked out to my silver Benz and was off to meet my girl at the mall.


I'm Kelsey Jordan Mercer. I go by Jordan. I turn 18 in a couple weeks. I'm 6'1" tall, 200 pounds even, muscular build, brown skin, black short cut hair, and blue eyes I got from my half white grandpa on my mom side. According to the system I'm a delinquent. But I'm really just doing what I gotta do to make it.

I sell a lil weed, done robbed a few hustlers and knocked off a couple houses too. But my claim to having my own wheels and stash of cash to live off of is street racing. I been racing since my homeboy let me drive for him one night when I was just 15. I took the money I won, bought me a classic mustang from a junker and rebuilt it with a racer engine instead and everything I needed to take these rich kids bank.

The judge said I was a troubled kid in need of urgent guidance. This lawyer dude talked him into letting me live with him instead of another foster family. My mother gave me up when I was like 8 because my father left us. So she shipped my ass off too. Not that I give a damn though.

Currently I walked with my homeboys through the mall. BJ was talking about some chick he banged on the hood of his car in a parking lot last night. Me, Trey and Max were laughing our fucking heads off. I caught sight of a couple shorties across the way and like they could read my mind my boys looked too.

"Got damn. Got damn!"

I nodded. Agreeing with Trey. I hurried around to come up behind them. My boys followed too. The one in the yellow was stacked. Her friend was a lil too slim for my liking. No curves or nothing. But she had that long ass hair down her back that I liked. So whichever one I bag, its on.

"Scuse me ladies!"

They both stopped and looked over their shoulders. I smiled as I walked up to them. The thin one checked me out as the thick one took in my whole crew.

"Can we help you find the arcade or something?"

I smiled at her before replying, "Nah. You can help me find out your name and number though."

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