Page 3 of Session 33

A steamy shower didn't do much to lift the haze from my mind, but I dressed anyway. I slipped into my black skinny jeans and crop top, the fabric hugging me like a second skin. After lacing up my black and red Jordans—comfortable but not lazy—I tamed my wild curls into tight, springy coils framing my face. My reflection stared back at me.

"You look fine," I said to myself, applying a swipe of lip gloss. But even as I murmured those words, forcing a dimpled smile, my eyes gave me away. The light was gone. Pretty? Yes. Present? Barely.

“Fake it till you make it,” I whispered to the mirror. I didn’t believe it, but I kept smiling anyway.

Resigned and ready to go, I grabbed my keys and the bag of clothes, heading out the door. I dropped my laundry off quickly, then drove to the Brandon Town Center. I needed bras and panties that were too tempting to ignore. I made the trip worthwhile, blowing three hundred dollars on lace and satin that would make me feel good, if only for a moment.

I felt better than I had when I woke up. Shopping bags swayed from my arms as I headed to the food court. I spotted Naomi from work—petite, mixed-race, with a head full of pretty curls. One of those effortlessly gorgeous women with a great personality. She lit up when she saw me and headed straight over, her curls bouncing with each step.

"Hey, Mrs. Mars, look at you! I love the street-chic aesthetic. You look so different outside of work. More relaxed. And you thick. I ain't know you were hiding all this," she said, eyes sweeping over me. "What brings you out here? I thought you lived in St. Pete?"

I laughed, trying to shake off my awkwardness as I clutched my shopping bags tighter. “Thanks, Naomi. I do. I just drove over to spend some money. And outside of work, just call me Angel."

Naomi’s face lit up like she’d just remembered something. She dug into her oversized tote bag, pulling out a flyer with bright red letters and a giant grill plastered across the front.

“Okay, Ms. Angel. Look, I’m throwing a Memorial Day BBQ, and you have to come,” she said, thrusting the flyer at me. “It’s gonna be good food, good music, good vibes. You need this in your life. Address is on there. Don’t make me come to your desk and harass you about it Tuesday because you didn’t show up.”

I nodded and took the flyer without making any promises.

"I gotta go, Angel," she said, giving a quick wink before turning on her heel and jogging over to a man with dreadlocks leaning against a store display. They headed into Macy's hand in hand, and I stood for a moment, turning her invitation over in my mind. "Memorial Day BBQ" stared back at me like a challenge. I wanted something life-changing to happen—could this be it?

I stuffed the flyer into my purse and wandered over to the food court for teriyaki chicken.

Back home, the quiet of my condo felt like it would swallow me whole. I dropped my bags at the door and rushed to use the restroom. I ended up leaning against the bathroom sink, my reflection staring back as if it had all the answers but didn’t share them with me. I peeled off my clothes and took another shower, trying to let the hot water relax me, but I was anxious. I kept thinking about Naomi's invite.

After my shower, I went back for my bag. When I picked up my purse, the flyer fluttered out onto the floor. I stood, staring at it. I knew I should go to Naomi's party, but the thought made my nerves buzz. What if she hated me after getting to know me? Work would turn very awkward.

I paced around the living room a few times, trying to talk myself into going. When talking didn’t work, I took action. I stripped out of the pajamas I'd just put on and dug through my closet. I found a black and red sundress, its tags still attached a year after I bought it, because I rarely went anywhere. I picked out a new lace bra and panties, slipped them on, then tried on the dress. The fabric clung to my curves, hugging my waist and cupping my hips before flowing out. It showed just enough cleavage to be tempting. I slid my feet into black Tory Burch slides and spent time playing with my hair until it framed my face like a halo. I checked my reflection from every angle. I looked good. It took allmy willpower to leave the house before my doubts could creep back in.

The drive to Naomi's was quick, and I could hear the music bumping a block away. Her white, ranch-style house was packed, with cars lining the street. The energy was high, and people spilled into the front yard, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces.

I parked and sat for a moment, nerves twisting in my stomach. After taking a few deep breaths, I got out of the car and strutted through the front yard like I was born to be there. I'd never been shy, just awkward around people. A couple of men looked hard, and I tried not to blush as I held their gaze just long enough to encourage them before moving deeper into the crowd.

I found Naomi in the backyard, easy to spot in the smallest pink bikini I'd ever seen, laughing and dancing with her dreadhead like they were the only two people there. Her ass was in his lap as she twerked. Sweat slicked down his pecs, his abs tight and defined—his body easily earning a perfect ten.

But as my eyes wandered to his face, it was clear he wasn't a ten up top. His nose and lips were disproportionately large for his round, beared face, and a scar ran jagged from his right cheek down to just above his pec. He wasn't ugly, just rough-looking.

I lingered at the edge of the crowd, watching them dance, contemplating the best way to approach—or whether I should at all—when suddenly, a deep voice rumbled in my ear, "You know it's not polite to stare."

Chapter four

I really wasn’t trying to go to this party, but Naomi kept hitting me up. She’s a nag at times, always trying to set me up with one of her desperate or reformed whore friends. Just because she now carries Jonas' nuts in her purse doesn’t mean I have to be ready to turn mine over.

Don’t get me wrong—I was happy for my friend. I don’t wish my lifestyle on anyone who didn’t have the heart for it. I know it’s human nature to want a family and all that B.S., but me? Sometimes I didn’t even feel human. I feel like I’m from another planet, and I’m the only one who sees that relationships and marriage are traps that suck the life out of you. If we were meant to be monogamous, there wouldn’t be more pussies in the world than dicks. I read somewhere that women outnumber men six to one. Nature didn’t even make it possible for us to be in monogamous relationships.

Jumping out of my truck, I walked around to the back of the house, pausing to chat up a few women I hadn’t fucked and dodging the ones I had. In the backyard, I found Naomi working her ass on Jonas. I still don’t know how this guy ended up with her. He’s lucky he met her first. Otherwise, she’d have a permanent spot on my roster. She had grown into and incredible woman. She cooks, cleans, makes her own money. If I ever lost my damn mind and decided to settle down, it’d be with someonelike Naomi. The thought passed as quickly as it came. I shook it off and kept moving.

Out of nowhere, hands covered my eyes and a pair of breasts pressed up against my back.

“Hey, baby.”

Keisha. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was her. I removed her hands and walked off, ignoring her calling my name. I wasn’t in the mood.

I made my way over to a girl standing just a little ahead of me. Her dress was hugging her round ass and hips just right, and if I was into thick women, I’d have made my move. But I needed a woman I could pick up and handle the way I liked, you know?

I hadn’t been sure before, but now I was. She was watching Jonas and Naomi. I wanted to know why.

“You know it’s not polite to stare,” I said, sliding up close enough for my dick to almost graze her ass. She smelled good, like something sweet and sinful, like brown sugar with a dash of spice.

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