“Sheesh...eighteen,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable since I was about a year older than his youngest son.
“I’m taking that you must be close to his age or older?”
“I’ll be twenty in May.” I shared, which I rarely did because most guys didn’t care. The age limit to work for the agency was at least eighteen.
“Is my age a problem for you? Am I too old for you?”
“No, you’re actually the youngest guy I’ve encountered through the agency. Your age doesn’t bother me because you still look young.”
“Wait, how old do you think forty-three should look?” He laughed.
“Old as fuck.” I joked. He laughed.
“That was funny, well, let me tell you that there is nothing old about me. And I mean nothing.” He said, then licked his lips. My lady-parts were jumping from the inside.
“That’s good to know. I brought a case of blue pills, just in case, though.” I laughed.
“Not the blue pills. I hope that I never have to take those shits, I’ll just stop using it if I ever get to that point.”
“Well, make sure you get great use out of it.”
“That’s hard. I don’t always sleep with every woman I encounter. I have to have more than physical attraction to take it that far. Can’t have my soul intertwining with everybody.”
“Same,” I said, looking at him differently now. I know you probably think that I must sleep with every client because I'm an escort, but I don’t. I pick older guys for a reason. They usually just want someone to spend time with. Just like people in the nursing home and they don’t really be on that paying for pussy.
“So, are you ready to tell me about what’s on your mind?”
“How much time do we have?” I smiled but was being serious. There is a lot on my mind that I have been holding in, and it would be nice to talk about it with someone I would probably never see again.
7. Eric
“That joint phat,” DaVon said as this little joint walked past us with her group of friends. I checked out her phatty, but it was too big, in my opinion. There is such thing as too big, and I never liked asses like that. I liked booties that were phat, but just enough to cuff and bounce.
“Shit too phat for me,” I mumbled.
“Nigga you always say that shit. Just say you don’t like black girls and go about your day.” Schooly said.
“Nigga, I’m black.”
“I can’t tell. You’re always complaining about black features.” He said.
“I said her ass what too phat. Having a phat ass is a black feature?” I laughed.
“Nah, but we all know that black women are naturally thicker than the other races. Her shit was natural, but I bet if you saw a Latina or white woman with an unnatural ass like that, you would saying something different.” He shared. We called him Schooly because he was always trying to school somebody on some shit. Most times, we laughed at him, but sometimes he could be really annoying. I’ve known him since pre-school. Hell, he was my best friend, but we could be opposites at times.
“Man, my mama, and all of the women in my family or black. Are you trying to say that I prefer women of other races over my own?”
“I’m not saying anything, just stating my observation, brother.” He said. Schooly was on that “woke” shit ever since his father introduced him to Dr. Umar Johnson's philosophies. His ass hasn’t been the same since then.
We were currently at PG Plaza, just chilling and trying to find some shawties to chill with during the winter break. I had gotten a part-time job at Footlocker for the holidays. I’ve been spending most of my time out of the house since the whole blow-up with Bre. My mama was always snapping and complaining about something. It seemed like since Bre left, all of the peace went too. I’m not saying shit was perfect at the crib, but it feels like nothing, but tension now. So I always hung out with my friends hopping from mall to mall, doing chill shit.
“Yo,” I said as I answered my phone.
“You coming over tonight?” Chianne asked.
“Nah.” I smiled. I loved pissing her off because it added high tension to our fourplay, which is all we did.
“Why not?”
“I thought you told me to leave you alone.” I reminded her. A couple of days ago, she went off on me because she caught me commenting on a couple of females' Instagram posts while ignoring her calls. When I finally called her back, she told me to leave her alone. I was respecting her wishes, but it was hard because I was missing her.
“Don’t I always say that, though?”
“Yeah, and shit is getting old.”
“What you trying to say?”
“Shit is getting old, yo. This whole situation is.”
“What bitch got your attention?” She screamed into the phone. I had to pull the phone away from my ear for a minute.
“Are you done?”
“You know what, fuck you. Go be with whatever bitch got you feeling yourself. I don’t have to take this from you. I have niggas on my line too.”
“And you’re probably doing the same shit with them that you’re doing with me. I’m not jealous, shawty.” I said and regretted it. Chianne wasn’t like, and I knew that. Just hearing her mentioning that she was entertaining other niggas got my blood boiling.
“Fuck you, Eric.” I heard her cry out. Shit, I made her cry. And before I could apologize, she ended the call. And I know for a fact, she was already in motion to block me.
“Hola Mami,” DaVon said to this little Latino chick who walked past. She was pretty with her long black hair and semi-thick shape. I licked my lips and gave her the look. That always worked on the females, and she wouldn’t be any different, or so I thought. She rolled her eyes and kept walking—that shit kind of damaged
