ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY Book 1 (Erotica)

33. Teacher

I saw Janet Jackson in the flesh! Oh my God! Being a twenty-three year old mother of one, even though DCF recently took my child because my Baby Daddy lied on me and said I rarely fed my five year old son, you would think my teenage fascination with Hollywood people would apishly
halt.

And it did for the most part. When I was a teenage girl I had LL Cool J on my wall, and every other rapper of the moment. My girl Latonia used to masturbate to his posters.

I haven’t spoken to her in ages.

I met Ludacris on South Beach last year. I was happy but not excited. I met a certain slain rapper when I was a little girl when I won a contest at my
elementary school, West Homestead Elementary.

I never knew I’d meet him, and when I heard about the short story essay I had to write detailing who I wanted to meet and why I never knew the actual first prize would be to meet who you wrote about.

Hey, I was from the Hood, the ghetto. Ghettos didn’t get any love.

But when the future controversial, slain rapper, I’ll leave nameless, walked into my classroom, without a camera crew and goons surrounding him, nor the media, they didn’t have the slightest
clue, I died!

All my friends fell over in excitement,
running up to him, hugging him, I died again! I was like OH MY GOD!

He instantly knew who I was. My ecstatic teacher, Miss Sharps, who had a wet pussy just goo-goo eyeing him, pointed at me.

“That’s Melissa Jackson right there,” she said excitedly, pulling out her mirror, fixing her hair and putting on a thick coat of lipstick, ripping the bottom of her dress off so it could be shorter.

When he smiled I knew I’d be strictly dickley for the rest of my life. Even though I wasn’t having sex nor thinking about it.

I was only about five years old.

With the grace of a ballet dancer, he walked up to me, gave me a hug, gave me his latest CD and said, “How about posing for a picture with me. I read your essay. Very talented.”

I didn’t get excited.  I was just happy that a star was in the Hood. My classroom door was locked, but when the school heard the future slain rapper was there you suddenly heard a roar outside the door..

Kids kicking and screaming his name.
Teachers were running from other classrooms, trying to get inside.

I felt lucky.

When my teacher took our picture, and one with the class, the superstar rapper kissed my cheek and slipped out the back door in full Thug apparel, into an awaiting SUV, and disappeared as if he was never there.

I didn’t get excited.

But when Janet Jackson shook my hand at 106 & Park and gave me a hug, I hyperventilated, clad in my sexy tight black pants and plain T-shirt...
baring her face. I lost it