Master of Power #1 by Erica Storm Page A

in you.
    From my perspective, I’ve mastered the power in me, and I’m bored because I haven’t found a man that turns me on, and doesn’t want me to pay half on the bills.
    I want the power to find a man to take me in his arms, tie me up, spank my ass if he wants to, tell me he’s my daddy, but maybe not in that order, and pay some bills so I don’t have to be stressed twenty four seven. But lately the men I meet, want all those things, and I still have to pay half the rent, food, and utilities.
    Maybe I could understand if a man wanted to spank my ass before sex. Maybe I could understand him wanting to tie me up as he fucked me senseless, but I couldn’t understand him doing all those things to me, and I still had to pay half the bills. 
    I’ve been working and paying my own bills since I was sixteen, and I don’t know how to be anything other than a strong black woman, that’s why I don’t need this stupid conference, and that power guy can’t teach me shit about getting what I want.
    “So why am I here?” I murmured. 
    My plans today were to skip the lecture and take a train to Washington D. C. from Baltimore and see some of the museums. Maybe have lunch in Union Square with my friend Tamika. But she’s the one who watches everything, and I have to account for my whereabouts to her because she got our company to send me with her to this luxurious hotel for the week. All on the corporation’s expense account. And she has to make good on our whereabouts if we are to get paid.
    We have to sign in and out of the sessions we’ve attended, and bring in a copy of the sign in sheet to the head of the department once we get back, and the last conference is a must because we have to make a presentation to the lawyers in our firm. 
    “Why are you talking so loud, Tamika?” I say to her as I walk from the bathroom to the bedroom. “Someone will hear you and think something else is going on in here,” I said to her when I dropped my damp towel from my head onto the chair. I reached for the hair condition in my luggage and sprayed it on my hair. Then I stood looking into the mirror, which was next to the television, and I combed through my hair wincing every time I came to a tangle.
    “You’re going to go bald if you leave your hair natural,” Tamika said.
    “No. You’re going to go bald with that weave,” I replied. She never turned her face in my direction because she’s caught up with what’s on television. Finally, she answers my question.
    “I’m not talking loud but it pissed me off when you see a woman act like this. I was just saying she should just get on her knees, and beg him to forgive her for sleeping with his brother.” She pointed to the television. “Look at him,” her head moving side to side, “with his fine ass. As fine as his ass is, she should beg him.” Her eyes never leaving the picture, she shouts, “Give him a blow job for fuck sake, he’ll forgive you.” 
    She turns to me, “Even if he doesn’t forgive her, she still has that fine ass brother of his to work with.” I stopped and looked at the television.
    “Look at the hands on that brother. I know he’s packing something serious between those hard thighs.”
    “How can you tell?” I asked stopping and looking at the actor, falling into her time suck world of soap operas, and gossip shows.
    Tamika’s eyes are glued to the screen. She was into this as if it was her in this movie.
    “You can go on and still sleep with his brother, fool. This time, don’t let him find out, bitch,” Tamika shouts at the television as if she’s giving advice to someone that’s standing in front of her. “Go on girl suck his big brown dick. That will calm him down and make him forget that you let his brother fuck you in the ass,” Tamika said yelling and then falling back on the bed exhaling a large breath.
    “You can take your shower now,” I say to her. She waves me off because she’s focused on the show and too involved