Glam and the ghetto (updated weekly)

The District Line - Armani

8pm. Praise the lord for that! It felt as if my feet were bleeding out the seems of my dolly shoes as they throbbed from the pressure of standing for hours on the busy restaurant floor.  I could see the EL1 bus emerging into my vision from a distance. Clutching my Zara faux leather handbag I made a sprint for the bus stop praying that I would make it in time. The line for the front of the bus, fortunately for me, was being held up by an African aunty who was dragging her buggy which had a bundle of blue and black plastic shopping bags tied to it. She was speaking Yoraba loudly down a phone which was clamped between her ear and shoulder. I took the opportunity to jump through the backdoors of the bus, avoiding eye contact with the driver in the front as I deviously failed to tap my oyster card on the contactless receiver.

It felt like bliss to sit down on the dusty rigid seats. I tried not to doze off as my eyes relaxed with the rest of my body. I was soon made alert as the vehicle began to violently vibrate as it collected more passengers at the next stop. Some school aged kids joined me on the upper deck, blasting heavy drill music on their phones while violently rapping along.

It was Saturday night so I expected to see all walks of life out and about ready to turn up and get lit. I however would be in my bed within the next 20 minutes taking a well needed nap before starting my second shift that weekend at LA Lounge. Even though I would be serving the young ballers and sugar daddies of east London all night, I felt a rush of adrenaline electrify me just thinking about getting fleeky with my bottles babes, making that schmoney while whining and wilding to to hip hop, trap and afrobeats. The weekends were my time to live out my video model ambitions. I would always feel like that bitch when I wore lace and lingerie with curve fit jeans that exposed my bodaciousness in all the right places. Daydreaming almost made me miss my stop and so I grabbed my belongings and tumbled down the stairs from the upper deck just before the bus was about to pull away.

As I strolled towards my shared accommodation, I noticed the 17 plate BMW 1 series that was parked half on the curbe half on the road. This let me know that JC the barber was in would be in the shop ahead, trimming hair and gossiping about gyal and tings as he did most weekdays. I was reluctant to pass there after what had happened on our last encounter. You see JC also had a side hustle, like most did in the ends. JC also had a crazy baby mum with horrendously low self esteem who couldn't stand the thought of him talking to other females. To her defence she had every right to feel that way as most of the rumours about his doogish  ways were true. It had been less than a week since I linked JC on road in the Lidl car park to pick up some dank cheese, and no not the kind that you eat. Me and JC always had a lot of chemistry from the jump and sometimes he would give me my draw and an additional spiff that he had pre rolled for free. I knew that his only reason for doing this was so that he had an excuse to sit and chat to me on a weekly basis, which admittedly I didn't mind as I was very single and JC was very sexy. He always wore either a Gucci black t-shirt or a tight fitted training shirt that hugged his bulging chest mass and exposed the juicy rack of abs he was concealing behind a sweet tobacco rustic scent. He always wore a thick gold chain that glimmered almost as brightly as the one gold tooth that exposed itself everytime he shone his dimpled smile. His face was cleanly shaven like the pretty boy that he was and his hair was always well kept with washy waves that he would often dye different colours. On that particular evening it was ruby red.

We had been in the car park for about half an hour, just vibzing to grime, talking about life and blowing smoke while sitting on the trunk of his German. The conversation some how lead into talking about different fighting styles and JC teased claiming that girls didn't know how to punch in which I responded by giving him a pounding 'lick' to his right solid biceps. He went to playfully slap me on the check, which took him by surprise when I blocked it using my flimsy forearm. His eyes widened as his left eyebrow, the one with the stylish slit in it raised in a way that let me know the toxic masculinity had awakened inside him and it was truly game on. He grabbed me by the both arms and forcibly pinned them to the side of my body. He then wrapped his arms around my waist and roped me up against his own body while exclaiming that I couldn't go 'nowhere' and asking what I was gonna do. Helpless and completely filled with giddiness being wrapped up in his strong arms, I fell weak with laughter and did not attempt to fight back. Instead I held his gaze, grinning. I couldn't help but look down at his beautiful heart shaped juicy lips which within seconds he took the opportunity to place them on mine. The kiss barely reached the point of passion before it was interrupted by loud cursing that could be heard in the surrounding boroughs.