Dear Drama by Braya Spice Page B

myself. Because a woman wears braids or ponytails, or even weaves, for that matter, doesn’t mean she’s bald! Beyoncé, Tyra Banks, Ciara, Lisa Raye, and all those other broads on TV that men lusted over have all worn weaves. Yet when you see a sista wearing anything other than her real hair, you want to get disdainful. Just sayin’.
    â€œMy hair reaches to my shoulders, but I prefer to wear braids.”
    â€œAnd they look good as fuck on you! I don’t mind that mother earth shit. Natural.”
    I was far from mother earth. That was more like Afros and dreads. But I told him, “Thanks!”
    â€œDo you know what I do for a living?”
    â€œWhat do you do?”
    â€œI’m an accountant for a Fortune Five Hundred company, and I do taxes on the side. I’m twenty-nine.”
    â€œNice.”
    I wasn’t divulging what I did, because I wasn’t established yet. And it didn’t seem like he cared. In fact, it seemed like all he wanted to do was talk about himself.
    â€œI also live in Baldwin Hills.”
    I knew the area was where wealthy blacks lived. “How old are you, and what type of work do you do?”
    â€œI’m twenty-three, and I will be twenty-four next month. I work in the child-care center at Long Beach City College.”
    â€œWhere do you live?”
    â€œOkay. What do you want ? You didn’t come over here to talk about geography and careers.” Really tickled, I laughed at my own joke.
    He laughed too. He had to be as tipsy as I was.
    â€œI like you already. And I feel this connection with you, this chemistry, which I don’t often find. I know you feel it, too, even if you don’t want to admit it. You trying to play hard to get.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t know about all of that.” However, I did feel something, but I didn’t care to admit it. I was probably never going to see this damn man again, so why not play along with it for one night?
    James reached over, grabbed me by my waist, and pulled me toward him. I had no choice but to hold on to his upper arms to steady myself.
    â€œWhen can I see you again?”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor starters, I want to suck your pussy. Then I want fuck the shit out of you. You look like you need to be fucked right.”
    His words had me salivating. I did need to get fucked right.
    I stared at his pants, focusing on his package. Then I casually rested my hand there, feeling for socks. All I felt was dick, and a nice-sized one at that.
    â€œThat’s all dick, baby. All man, and it can be in you all night.”
    I didn’t answer, just pulled back.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “Can I see you again?”
    And you know what? I needed to get Lavante’s punk ass out of my system. And relieve some stress from what had happened with Sierra.
    I leaned over and kissed his sexy-ass, plump-ass lips. “You can see me now. Let’s get out of here.”
    I didn’t even take the time to tell Crystal. I merely sent her a text telling her I was bouncing for a minute.

Chapter 12
    I kept on kissing those lips and didn’t stop kissing them until we got to the hotel up the street from the club. All I wanted was to lose myself in him, like in this poem I read. I chanted the lines in my head as ole boy groped my ass and kept sliding his tongue in my mouth. I wanted to feel real love, but I hadn’t felt real love from a man in ages, since my daddy. I remembered the time when I was four years old and I was on the toilet, taking a shit, and I was scared to get off the toilet because I saw a spider in the corner. I ended up falling asleep on the toilet. Then my daddy came and got me off, even wiped my ass for me.
    That was the last time I ever felt real, genuine love from a man, the type you instantly recognized by the way they looked at you—like they adored you. I knew that love was damn sure not in this room! But I didn’t care.