Page 43 of Drill Session

She blurted out, “Do you want to fuck my man? You look like a homewrecker, so don’t lie hoe,” she snapped at Sachia.

“You trippin’,” I mugged her after ending the call. “Was all that necessary?”

“Very much so, if the shoe was on the other fucking foot, and I was giggling and shit in a nigga’s face ignoring your text, you’d be in my shit.”

“Well, it ain’t and every nigga you talk to has a history of trying to get in your panties. Sachia like pussy, she ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout my black ass.”

Pulling my Skims pajama bottoms up as I stood, I felt the familiar comfort of the soft material. Staggering on the plush carpet, I trailed Akira out of my office and shook my head watching her waddle, down the hall to our bedroom as fast as she could. Our baby girl was wearing her down and she complained about wanting to get it over with every other day. Pregnancy looked good on her and she carried it very well. From the back she didn’t look like she was toting my ten pound baby in her gut because her ass was fat and juicy as fuck. I constantly teased her, saying she was carrying our daughter in her hips and ass because that's where all the weight seemed to be accumulating. The jet, black braids in her hair swayed between the cracks of her ass when she walked. From the way she was walking I knew her feet were swollen too, sprinkling on to the aggravation.

In the corner of our bedroom, was a crème tufted lounge chair. I saw the pain in her face when she slowly eased down and gaped her legs open before rubbing her belly. It wasn’t until times like this, I felt bad for my baby. The first trimester was pure hell for her. All she did was lay down and throw up. Her appetite decreased and she could barely keep anything down. Her OB/GYN recommended ginger chews to ease her nausea, and they seemed to help for the most part. I always came to her aid though. Whether it was helping her out the tub, waxing her pussy for her or rubbing her feet and her back at night when she asked me to. Catering to her was the goal and I wanted her to know she didn’t have to lift a fucking finger. Now did her hardheaded, miss independent ass listen, no!

“You wore them shoes knowing they make your feet swollen?” I nodded my head at the denim Balenciaga Triple S sneakers she was taking off her feet.

“It’s not so bad this time and I wasn’t on my feet all day.”

Bending down, I took the shoes from her then walked inside of our walk in closet to put them back in the box. Her side was a fucking mess all the time, while mine was kept neat and clean. She claimed she couldn’t fit nothing, so most of her attire consisted of flare leggings.

“Did you eat?” I yelled out to her. She muttered something unintelligible, so I returned to the room and asked her to repeat herself. “What you say?”

Her elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair and she was scrolling through her phone. “I said, I ate some hot wings and seasoned fries.”

“What I tell you ‘bout that shit?”

“Drill,” she waved me off. “Don’t start, you heard the doctor say that I could eat hot stuff.”

“Right,” I nodded. “I never said you couldn’t, but I told you to cut back on that shit. I’m the one getting out the bed at night from you jumping me out of my sleep to run to the kitchen to grab the mustard because you got acid reflux.”

“Good thing I keep it in my snack drawer, so I won’t have to ask you shit.” Akira rolled her eyes and slowly stood up. “Everything you do pisses me off.”

“What’s new?” I queried with annoyance. “I breath, you pissed off. I forget to respond to a text, you’re pissed off. Don’t start no shit with me.”

It was comical as fuck, seeing her waddle around, but I knew better. She wore my blackGod Is Dopet-shirt, with her belly peeking out from the bottom and the see through leggings swallowed her ass up.

“I don’t even know why you’re in here anyway. Just because I curse your little hoe out, didn’t mean you had to disconnect the call. You could’ve kept talking to the scary ass bitch,” she snapped.

From the other side of the room, she got undressed while I watched her from my side of the bed. This house was spacious as fuck, with four bedrooms, a den, a living room, three bathrooms, a three-car garage, a sunroom and a kitchen with an island. Going behind her back, I wanted to give Akira the best of the fucking best, so I hit Jalisa up, trying to put her realtor skills to use. Not trying to be on no selfish shit, but the second she told me she was pregnant, the thought of living in separate houses wasn’t a good one. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, and I wasn’t opposed to packing a gym bag, calling her house a temporary home with all her shit inside. Building her a house from the ground up was the best way to go because that’s how she originally did her previous one and I didn’t want to half step. It was the best 31stbirthday present and it took a lot in me to keep it on the low.

“You be so bent out of shape about me talkin’ to other women like talkin’ to other niggas at your job ain’t what you do on the regular anyway.”

“I don’t be giggling and shit all their faces,” she retorted.

“And neither do I,” I responded with a slight shoulder shrug.

“I give you grace, so why can’t you do the same for me?”

With a sharp twist of her neck, she threw my t-shirt back at me, rejecting any offer of grace. “That bitch call you all hours of the fucking day and I’m sick of that shit. Confronting a hoe is all I know. This baby,” she pointed at her belly, “ain’t stopping shit!”

“She’s my social media manager,” I murmured nonchalantly to further piss her off.

“Oh, so you’re taking up for that bitch? What the fuck is a social media manager anyway? I’ve never heard of that stupid shit.”

I chortled “You sound jealous.”

Akira raised her arched brow and put a hand on her wide hip. “Nigga, I don’t have anything to be jealous about when I got the house.” She paused momentarily to rub her belly, then she held up her left hand that was decorated with a platinum pear shaped diamond ring on her ring. “A baby and a ring.”

I wasted no time setting her up to be my wife, she don’t deserve to be a baby mama when her value is too high. My head shook as I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her beautiful body. She was hormonal and was using me as a verbal punching bag. I wouldn’t be surprised if our baby girl came out mean ass fuck and frowning because that’s all Akira did. Her friends knew to stay clear of her bad side, but I always got the short end of the stick no matter what I did. This pregnancy was a teaching thing for me and during the duration I learned so much about women and about her. My hands caressed her belly, feeling my baby kick up a field day. Her belly had turned a shade darker than her normal cinnamon tone complexion and there was copper colored stretch marks beautifully decorating the bottom of her belly, hips and waist. Every night after showering, she’d tell me to tub some Palmers cocoa butter lotion on her stomach and I was seeing improvement. Though with or without them, I loved her harder day by day.

“Then if you got all that, why you trippin’? Fuck I look like getting you pregnant and proposing just to entertain another bitch? I wouldn’t play in your face like that.”

---