ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY BOOK II

15. With Myself

It rained harder, and the flash of lightning scared me a bit. I ignored it, of course. Lightning wasn't that bad—BOOM!

Gahdamn it! You see, Lord! You just scared the holy shit outta me! Damn! Now my nerves were bad. I needed a
cigarette.

Nah.

Fuck it.

I needed a joint to calm down.

BOOM!

Thunder rocked the streets. I covered my face, one eye on the road, my car swerving.

Get a grip, Melissa!

Don't panic, Chile. My heart racing, I was about to panic anyway. Where did all this lighting and thunder come from?

A few cars sped past me.

God forgive me for my sins! I know I'm a freaky bitch and you know I keeps it real with you and myself, Lord.

I don't fake the funk and you told me to come to you as I am so here I am,
Lord.

I am a whore, but I'm a pricey whore. But lightning scares the living shit outta me. I know I fall short of your grace, but I don't wanna die on this slippery ass road, Lord.

I do wanna make it to the airport because when Naygee steps off that plane I hope he brought his snake with him because I'm gonna go Samuel L. Jackson on his dick and put his snake in the plane of my pussy.

I love you, Lord. Talk to you soon. Muah. Amen. And a hallelujah good night!

I didn't know why I was about to jump out my skin. I had to take deep breaths to calm down. I always got righteous when God made it thunder.

I looked through my purse for my cigarettes. They were behind my iPod. Taking the pack, I shook it. It was empty.

Damn. I gotta re-up on the cigs. I was slipping like some good pussy. A bitch like me kept some cigarettes.

With all the pussy I've been giving away, now wasn't the time to be all prim and proper when lightning and
thunder scared my ass.

Turning on the radio, I channel surfed. Nothing of interest was on. Mariah Carey. Oh, No, Chile. That's one ditzy bitch.

Next. Paula Abdul. "Straight Up."

Come on now, radio stations! This wasn't the '80s.

Next. Rhianna's long forehead ass yodeled all over this cut.

Next. Under my Umbrella-eh-eh-eh wasn't cutting it tonight. Fuck it. I turned it off.

I slowed up a bit when a Buick cut me off without signaling. I tucked my chin back. I blew the horn, cursing his ass out.

He didn't hear me with the windows up. I grabbed my purse and put it on the back seat. On the passenger seat were two fabulous novels by sexy ass black men I've come to love.

I love my black authors. Ty B. Moore's Liar's Truth gave Eric Jerome Dickey a run for his money and Michael Mayhem's Yes...My Retarded Ass Signed Up novel was glorious.

Thinking about his fine ass made my titties rejoice and my nipples repent. I had to rub my pussy a little bit, looking at his picture, trying to keep my eyes
on the road. Niggah was gorgeous.

I loved military men. Come Search and destroy this pussy and cause it some...mayhem, Michael. Now I was horny.

What did a bitch do?

Simple.

It was time to play with myself.