Daddy Long Stroke

“I want to see you. I’m still hurt by what happened. But I know I don’t want to stop seeing you, either.”

This broad! I swear she better be glad I feel sorry for her retarded ass. Otherwise, I’d drag her ass for e’erything she’s worth. “Well, check this out, ma. I’m on my way out to L.A. for a few weeks, so I’ma haveta hit you back when I get back to Jersey. I’ll let you know then if I’m still interested in givin’ you this dick.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yo, you heard me. I fucked ya peoples in ya house. Gutted her all up on ya sheets; on the same bed I rocked ya box in, and you still wanna fuck wit’ a muhfucka. Baby, that’s some sad shit. You a cool chick, Vita, real talk, but you got some self-esteem issues you need to work on. Muhfuckas are gonna always use you and take you for granted ’til you get ya mind right, baby. Real talk. And the only reason I’m kickin’ this shit to you is ’cause I really don’t wanna see you get hurt. A muhfucka like me will run you ragged, baby, ’cause I know you lonely and weak. You deserve better, so I’m tryna give you the opportunity to bow out gracefully ’fore you end up more fucked up than you already are.”

“OhmyGod, I can’t believe you.”

“Believe it or not, I’m tellin’ you some real shit.”

“You are so fucking arrogant and selfish!”

“I know,” I tell her, pullin’ up to the parkin’ lot gate. I roll my window down and press the button for my ticket. “It is what it is. I enjoyed fuckin’ you, baby. But this dick comes wit’ an expiration date on it, and your time for gettin’ it is up.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps. “One day you’re gonna fuck over the wrong bitch. And I hope I’m there to see you get everything you got coming.”

I drive ’round the parkin’ area, tryna find a damn parkin’ space. It’s packed out this bitch. After drivin’ ’round for almost ten minutes, I find a spot. “Well,’til then, I’ma keep fuckin’, baby. So whatever happens happens.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

I laugh, grabbin’ my shit outta the car, then runnin’ over to catch the airport bus. “I know. And I fucked you all up in yours, didn’t I?” I hop on, tell the driver which airlines I’m flyin’ on, then take a seat in the back. “Do ya’self a favor, boo. Delete my number. And stay far away from any muhfucka who ain’t tryna treat you wit’ respect, ya heard?”

She sighs. “I guess I should be thanking you. But I’m too mad at you right now.”

“No thanks needed, baby. You’ll get over it. Would you have rather I lied to you and kept playin’ you out?”

“No.”

“Aiight then. Take what I’m tellin’ you as a gift. The next muhfucka might not be so generous.” I end the call. Far as I’m concerned, there’s no sense in goin’ back ’n forth. I done told her all she needs to know. What she does wit’ the shit is up to her. I got bigger and better things to do than to be tryna counsel some lost cause.

The shuttle drops me off in front of Continental. I grab my shit, hop off and head through the glass doors. Forty minutes later I’m boardin’ my flight to L.A. I take my seat, and buckle up, then shut down my cell. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ L.A. might not be a bad spot to make my winter hangout. I could spend three months away from this cold-ass weather, then come back to Jersey in the spring, and chill ’til the winter comes through again. It’d definitely break up doin’ the same ole same ole. Not that I’ve been lookin’, but it’ll be nice to have a few West Coast beauties to fuck on those days I’m not beat to fuck wit’ Cherry’s ass.

LAX Airport, as usual, is busy. I peep a few bitches wit’ potential, but don’t really put out any energy to speak. Right now my mind’s been on that sexy-ass ho Kat. I had her on the brain practically the whole flight out here, imaginin’ fuckin’ her all night. The shit had my dick hard as concrete. I’ma definitely get at her when I touch Jersey again.

Soon as I get to the baggage claim area to get my bag, my cell rings. PRIVATE NUMBER flashes up on the screen. I shake my head. Muhfuckas crack me the fuck up me wit’ blockin’ their numbers. My thing is, if you callin’ me and you don’t want me to know ya number, then you must already be a muhfucka I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ any damn way. So I don’t give a fuck ’bout not havin’ ya digits. “Yo?”

“You might have gotten off on them charges, but…”

“Oh, so it’s you who’s been callin’ and not sayin’ shit on the phone?”

“You don’t know that. Maybe it’s another fool you fucked over.”

I sigh. “Ramona, why the fuck are you callin’ me?”

“Because I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I’m done wit’ you.”

“You think you can fuck me, get me knocked up, then dismiss me like I ain’t shit, and I’m supposed to go away quietly? Wrong answer. I am about to become your worst fucking nightmare.”

“Bitch, you’re fuckin’ crazy, for real, yo.”

She laughs. “That’s already been established, nigga. And you fucked over the wrong bitch in the process.”