Feel So Right

Ms. Maybach

There's a thigh high boot laying on the side of the street next to a telephone pole. A black leather boot. Typically for a dancer or a street walker who works in the red light district. I imagine she was short and petite with long wavy hair. And sexy like me. The boot is wet from the light rain that's still drizzling down from the dreary sky. And it's covered with a light layer of mud. Probably from the various cars passing it by, splashing water and dirt on it. My mind run's wild as I come up with each and every scenario or idea of how it ended up there. But one idea that stuck in my mind was that the boot belonged to a stripper and she simply dropped it accidentally and left it behind after flagging down a taxi in hopes to get out of the bad weather. It is south florida by the way. And we do have strings of bad weather. And nobody likes getting drenched by the rain. It is possible she was simply trying to seek shelter and get where she was going without getting wet. But I know that's not true. I'm just not okay with that answer. Something's telling me that it's something more sinister than that. Something's telling me that I might be looking at the start of a crime scene or something. Maybe a kidnapping. She may have been a stripper. But more than likely, she was a prostitute. She, more than likely, was snatched up from the street corner by two men after she refused to get in the van with them and her boot just so happened to slip off of her foot as she tussled with the men. Fighting for dear life. But obviously she couldn't break free of their grasp and she didn't have a choice but to leave the boot behind as she vanished. Relatively unheard and unnoticed.

That's one reason why I never worked the streets of Miami. For two, I'm not a cheap, sleazy hoe a john could buy for a hundred dollars. Me personally, I only deal with the rich. If you don't have ten thousand dollars to shower on me then we don't need to be talking. Most of my clients are high end chief executives, Presidents, People that come from the financial markets, Hedge fund people, and people with high profile marriages that desire ultimate privacy. These people don't have any problem forking over ten thousand dollars or more for a night of pleasure.

The Maybach jolts into motion. Moving at a brisk jogger pace. The boot disappears from view and we trundle through Miami. I sigh impatiently. This drive was only supposed to take thirty minutes. But it never does. This part of town is always having delays. Whether its traffic, a checkpoint or an accident. The Maybach crawls along as we pass tire shops and discount stores and fast food restaurants. I rest my head on the cabin's window lost in thought. Still thinking about the girl and her missing boot. It keeps me occupied for a moment until I turn my attention to a show on tv. Its the kind of show you watch on a lazy saturday morning. You know what's going to happen already so sometimes you don't even watch. You just listen to the messy ass hoes yelling and fighting over some nigga that was cheating on one of them or maybe even both of them and ended up having a baby from a third woman. But in this section of the show, the part I began watching, some woman with a black eye and low self esteem issues was telling the show host how her husband beats her and punishes her when she doesn't listen to him. Sometimes he locks her into their closet until she calms down from screaming and yelling. Then she admits that he puts a dog collar and leash around her neck and he walks her around in stores like a dog. 'What a pathetic woman' I say to myself as I put on last minute touches of my make up while getting pulled deeper into the show. She also says he would handcuff her to the bed post and have sex with other women in their bed right in front of her. Then she starts to cry and cover her face out of embarassment. The host asks her 'why do you deal with that, why don't you just leave him?' And of course her tired answer is the same as any woman who doesn't have the backbone to stand up for herself: 'because I love him' she says. The second I heard that I sneered at the woman on the tv. 'What a fuckin disgrace' I uttered as I looked into the mirror and concentrated on putting on my makeup. Then as she talks shit about him the host says she has to confront him and tell him that she doesn't want to be treated like that anymore. Then he calls the guy from the back room. And everybody's booing him. But you also see the women in the crowd looking as though their pussies are dripping wet as they fling their weaves or brush it with their hand in a flirtatious way. 'Sit down and shut up' he says on the way to his chair that was placed stage front and center. Everybody started booing louder. And to be honest, there's nothing sexier than a low cut, lightskin, african american man with tattoos on his neck and arms that knew how to dress and keep his finger nails clipped and teeth pearly white. Hell, he was the type of man that could impregnate a woman by fingering their vulva's for two and a half minutes. He was so fine I forgot why the girl had a black eye and low self esteem. I even forgot everything she'd been saying for the last five to ten minutes. He had my attention so much that I forgot I had to get ready to meet my boyfriend. Then he picked up the chair and placed it beside his wife and sat down in the chair and asked the host how he was doing. The host said he was doing fine and asked him why he treated his wife as such. He responded by looking straight at her, while she looked helplessly at the floor. He pointed in her face, saying 'cause she my bitch, she know what it is I run her'. Then he goes on to say to his wife 'Now bitch, get your ass over here and lick my boot'.