Having seen enough, I didn't bother to announce the disconnection, but I guess my subtle movement sparked a flame from Lira, causing her eyes to dart open. Helplessly she looked at me, gazing into my eyes with a pang of heightened intimacythat I didn't mean to cause. Not bothering to invade in their privacy any longer, my legs dangled from behind my ears and my feet touched the plush beige rug, feeling the coziness between my toes. I sat up, my nipples hardened catching a draft of the cold air. Lira's eyes remained glued to me, as if she was anticipating my move. Looking feverish, I blew a kiss at her before disconnecting the call.
My forefinger lingered over the end button as I stared blankly at my reflection. My hazelnut skin complexion was flushed. Lira and I had gone at it for over an hour now and I was drained. My copper brown hair was in a top knot bun on the top of my head. The flyaways didn't stand a chance, making the silk press I got done a few days ago stretch for a while. My mink lashes needed a touch up and the shadow above my full upper lip was starting to announce itself, reminding me to book a wax appointment with my esthetician in the morning.
The stare matching had gone on long enough until I felt my eyes getting crossed, so I blinked back to life and stood up, making sure to wrap the damp white towel around my lower body as if I wasn't home alone.
That one-hour session with Lira made me five thousand dollars richer. At this point I was only in it for the money and truly didn't admire the desire like I used to. The way I see it, this is my daytime job and I'd rather do this than clocking in at a sloppy ass nine to five.
Trotting towards my bathroom, I opened the closet door where I kept my dirty clothes hamper, removed the towel from around my waist and tossed it inside the hamper. Then I trotted over to my Empava hydrotherapy massage bathtub and turned the nozzle, so hot water could flow. My fingers dangled under the stream, so I could test the temperature. Once it was up to my liking I twisted the nozzle to add in a pinch of cold water. Adding a little bit of Dr. Teal's Epsom salt and bubble bath, I could smellthe lavender permeating through my nostrils, wafting through the bathroom.
For only a second, I stepped away so I could put my hair into a silk scarf and bonnet. Immediately after, I sauntered back inside my bedroom to retrieve a red silk negligee from Adore Me with a matching robe. Years ago, my auntie Nina put me on to dressing sexy at night. Of course I was well into my adulthood when she mentioned the impromptu girl talk. She said it makes you feel sexy on the inside and no one has to see you. Now don't get me wrong, every other night I'll put on a muumuu and not think anything of it, but I like embracing my body.
Like clockwork, I sauntered over to my bookshelf to retrieve some vanilla creams and perfumes before walking back inside the bathroom and dipping my toe in the tub. Releasing a deep sigh, the hot water relaxed me instantly, making me remember why I included this when I got my bathroom renovated. It was more to it than the look that was so appealing and for good measure, I'd be soaking in this tub for hours.
I winced just a tad when my back touched the cool porcelain, but after a millisecond I relaxed and closed my eyes, feeling the hot water tingle all over my body.
This is freedom to me. Real freedom. It's the kind where you wake up and don't have to answer to anybody. Thank God, I don't have to worry about slaving in no one's warehouse, a Fortune 500 company or worry about being micromanaged. Truly, I loved my life because I have everything that I prayed for. I'm at the point in life right now, where I'm not stressing over a man, robbing Peter to pay Paul and social setbacks. Honestly, I'm having my way and at thirty-five years old, I'm doing a damn good job.
I never thought I'd be making a living showing off my body, naked, allowing men to gawk over me in lust and admiration, like a nine to five, but my dreams didn't pan out the way Iwanted them to. Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a chef, because I have a deep-rooted love for cooking, but I got into a bad incident that nuked my reputation. I attended a wedding and I was highly recommended by word of mouth.
It was my first event after graduating and I was so elated. For months, I prepped in advance, making sure everything was on the menu and overstocked so I wouldn't incur any issues. The bride wanted lamb and my preparation was beautiful, among the other dishes and finger food I'd prepared. I made sure everything was fresh, at least according to my liking, it was.
The turnout was great and beyond my expectations, but days later, I woke up to mass notifications and was being dogpiled by so many people on all of my business pages. According to the bride and groom, their families got food poisoning, but to my defense, in the days between their wedding they could've eaten anything. I went far enough to ignore all the negativity and make an apology statement but they weren't having it.
To add insult to injury, I couldn't prove that the food wasn't perished, because it'd been prepared right and I took the necessary safety measures I was taught. After that, my downfall was my demise and for a long time, I felt so degraded. Being humiliated like that in public had me feeling so weak and defeated, I got into a depressed slump. So I hung up my apron and chef hat. It was easy for someone to stomp on my dreams, but that's not the sort of thing that people forget. Hell, I was even on Reddit for a few months. It got so bad, that I went ghost and didn't appear back on social media until all the noise died down.
Shit, I couldn't even get a job at restaurants to add to my resume because they'd heard about the incident. That was a major loss and not a good starting point considering that I was new and I made my father look bad, because I was highly recommended by him.
To keep up with my bills, I settled for shitty pay, busting my ass for companies, under the white man, who didn't give a fuck about me. I'd settled for more than I could bargain for before I quit.
I was responsible enough to have money set back for a rainy day, but I had to cut back on all the things I liked, getting primped and polished. Even the extra money I had went towards a bill or two. I did what I could to get extra coins, so I wouldn't have to keep penny pinching or dig in my family and friends' pockets, though I'm sure they didn't mind if I'd asked, but I hated feeling like a bother. Furthermore, my pride wouldn't let me.
For a while, I DoorDashed, Ubered, Lyfted and Sparked. The extra money was great but it wasn't dependable. There were times when the money was good, and there were times when it was just okay. Even while taking on the tackle, I was looking for something permanent, none of which included burning my damn gas.
Things have a way of falling into my lap though, even when I'm not looking for them. I call that, God. As crazy as it sounds, I believe in signs. I saw something on TikTok the other day, the woman made a statement along the lines of,"If I need to leave this nigga alone, God show me a purple car,"and I'll be damned if God didn't show her. There were purple cars lined up back to back on a car carrier. Do you know how rare purple cars are!?
A while back, I was talking to this young nigga. We were kicking it heavy, but nothing sexual, though he was aware of my content. He didn't seem like he was trying me on that level to become a part of it, which oddly enough sounds weird, because niggas are freaky enough to fuck cats in the ass. The most we did was talk on the phone and we never linked up, though he asked me a few times. I wasn't ready to be face to face with him, but he didn't pressure me.
To me, he was cool and we had a lot in common. Randomly, he'd send me money on CashApp, which was nice of him, but it was only enough to put gas in my car, or buy coffee from Dunkin' Donuts. It wasn't shit to be grateful for, honestly. One night I was in deep thought and something told me to look up his name on Facebook. It was an old page, one that he was rarely active on, but he had his Instagram linked to the page, so I probed further and clicked on it. Low and behold, he was engaged, with a baby on the way.
There wasn't much for me to be shocked about, because I'm used to dog-ass niggas lying and not playing fair, so when I mentioned it to him, I caught him off guard. He looked at me with a straight face and said that was his twin. From that moment on, I cut him off and quit fucking with niggas, pretty much anyone, because I couldn't take on the hassle.
Just like that fell in my lap, other things did too. Though I had enough money to get by, it wasn't enough to stretch. Shit, I had to eat, pay my phone bill and put gas in my car too. There was a viral post, from a while back about a girl saying how much money she made on a Black-owned porn site. The comments were filled with filthy shit and how women should prioritize their time with other things besides exposing their body. Back then, I thought nothing of it and kept scrolling until I came across a podcast that featured the same girl, mentioning her viral highlight.
As many times as I've told that story to people, mainly my family or men who want to use it as a conversation starter, about why I started, I'd mention that story play by play. God doesn't make mistakes and I truly believe that was a sign to run the stoplight.
During COVID, a lot of mobile grocery apps like Walmart delivery for Spark, DoorDash and Grubhub, were closed temporarily because of the pandemic, so I was left with nochoice. In the beginning, it was something to pay the bills and my content was already cut short, uploading faceless content, like my nipples, asshole, feet and pussy. I don't know how the promo worked, but I guess using certain hashtags, I gained a greedy audience. In a matter of seconds, I earned $500, but the kicker was I wouldn't be able to payout until sixty days.
The real money was men requesting to see more in my DM, which sort of made me feel uncomfortable, which seems odd. It sort of felt like I was talking to them face to face, mainly the part about connecting with men and women and them being strangers made it uneasy for me, until I got over my head and talked myself through it. Truly, they were nothing but a bunch of perverted-ass white niggas, with money to fuck off.
The upside was that whatever money I made from that, I'd get immediately, and most of those payments were made via PayPal, Zelle or CashApp. What I wasn't expecting was the thirst being at a high demand and it becoming overwhelming.
By the end of the night, after fulfilling requests, I had enough money to treat myself and then some after paying my monthly bills.
My life was somewhat satisfying and I thank God for it every day, despite a few of my loved ones turning their backs on me because they don't consider what I do to be a real job, but I don't live my life to please others and I'm grown enough to accept that not being a flaw, because what I eat don't make them shit. Regardless, I'm having my way with these niggas and I don't have to fuck for it.
The sound of my phone ringing jolted my eyes open and I sort of jumped. The water had gone cold and I hadn't realized that I was drifting off into a slumber. The water sounded when I moved to drain it. I'd been in it long enough for my fingers to look wrinkled.
Exiting the tub, I sauntered over to my walk-in shower and let the hot water rain on me, relaxing me again for a second. I stood under the water for a few minutes before grabbing a bath towel, followed by some Equate feminine wash to clean my pussy first. I hiked my leg up on the soap holder and gently parted my lips to wash between the folds, applying just a tad bit of pressure. Then I washed my clitoris, applying ease, but my sensitive bud still riddled with sensation so I jerked every other second before moving over my bare pussy lips. Until I felt fully clean, removing my creamy sap, I grabbed the removable shower head to rinse, then washed it again once more for good measure.
