Story: Baby, I’m confused. Part 1.

Malcolm, I swear I’ll quit all this shit. I’ve made enough money to open up a Salon and Spa. I’ll make a comfortable home with you and you can just create, let me give you babies and chase your dreams. Just, give me a chance.

Shit sounds glorious, right?
Only a fool would turn down such and offer, right?
She couldn’t of done anything bad enough to make me turn that offer down, right?

Certain energies just click. I’m a Taurus man and I saw her Virgo ass glowing from across the club. She moved effortlessly, seemingly floating through the scene. We made eye contact and she came and sat on my lap. She was counting a wad of dollar bills when she leaned over and whispered, “Hello King. I’m Jamila. That’s my real name, you’ve earned that off demeanor alone.” My lord, this bitch was cold. I know that strippers are professional seductresses, but it isn’t often that I’m intrigued by a silver tongue. Her skin was a tint of golden brown that only your grandmother’s chicken could rival. 5’5″, 130ish. Her ombré hair in a bun, body soft as warm butter. She ordered a bottle of Hennessy and presented it to me. Before I could even make an objection, she paid out of the wad of cash in her bra. We drank and began to talk. Laughter was abundant, we were in agreeance politically, emotionally, socially. I was buzzed. The two of us had run through half of a fifth in 30 minutes. I felt myself getting warm, my eyes lowering. I had to stay sharp, strip clubs can get dangerous fast. The club was dark, red lights everywhere. The music was loud and ominous, she began to give me a lap dance. The first song was “Curious” by PND, we were in sync. I was naturally aggressive and she didn’t slap my hands away. She guided them, she found my wood and took advantage of it. She found that spot and worked it accordingly. The first song was now the fifth. “What I owe you, love?” I asked. “Nothing yet, follow me.”


She grabbed my hand and took me back to the VIP. Plush velvet couches, and a zone huge black, leather curtain. “Practice” by Drake began to play. She dropped her black panties and bra. Looked at me with absolute lust and crawled over. My dick was harder than AP chemistry. She preceded to climb on top of me and give me that work. She didn’t even have to ask for money. I was throwing my strip club budget at her already. She straddled me, grabbed the back of my head and pressed it into her neck. Before I could make my move, she whispered “let’s get the fuck out of here.” She took my phone and put her number in and took the initiative to text herself. As I left she gave me the address to her spot and told me to meet her there in 30 minutes. A happy man, I drove off into the Atlanta sunset. I pulled up to a particular apartment complex on north-side drive (near the bluff, Falcons Stadium and a well lit chevron) and awaited her arrival. It had already been thirty minutes and I was worried because it was beginning to get dark, and the last place you want to be when it gets dark is the Bluff. Just as I was getting antsy, a green Honda civic comes flying in. Holy shit, this isn’t a robbery. I follow her up. “Sorry I was late, the kitchen took forever with your chicken.”


SHE GOT ME CHICKEN. STRIP CLUB CHICKEN! I had known this woman for all of two hours. I was positive she was fattening me up for the kill and that there were 8 dread headed trap niggas with red eyes waiting in her apartment. I even ate a wing on the stairs because I didn’t want to die on an empty stomach. I was wrong. No one but a dog. I took my shoes off at the door(force of habit) and set my chicken down as I observed the house. She grabbed my shirt and walked me to the bedroom. Told me I had work to do. And work, I did. Her sheets were satin, so we slid everywhere. There was lust, affection. Passion. She had mirrors facing the bed and one on the ceiling and we both put on a show. As we lay, we talked more. We laughed more, she told me how smart and handsome I was. How she noticed my glow from across the strip club and how she recognizes quality man when she sees it. The puppy even liked me. He hopped his ass in the bed and cuddled right between us. I had acquired a family in 15 minutes. Then, a phone rang in the distance. I watched her entire demeanor change. She told the puppy “bingo” and he ran and got in his kennel. She went to the bathroom, ran the water and answered the phone. Four minutes later, she came out fully dressed with two duffel bags. I was a step ahead of her, I’m not one for the bullshit, so I was on the edge of the bed, pistol in reach.

“Malcolm baby, I gotta go, you gotta go, we gotta go. I’ll call you Tuesday at 10:30 Am. Don’t call me, I promise I’ll call you.”

What the fuck?
She kissed me and pushed me out the door. I stayed in my car to peep the scene and sure enough, five minutes later, her and the dog come scrambling outside, hop in her Honda and peel off.

I get a text that says “I saw you sitting in your car. don’t follow me, I’m fine. Tty Tuesday. 😍😘”

Bitch, are you James Bond?
She didn’t even make eye contact with my car when she walked by. Was she a trained intelligence agent?
I was confused to say the least. If you’re a reader, you know this ended in a fiasco.

Was that her boyfriends house?
Was I dating Griselda Blanco?
Did I get drunk, pass out and dream all this?

Find out on the next episode of A LIFE OF FRIDAY NIGHTS.

3 thoughts on “Story: Baby, I’m confused. Part 1.

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