*alarm clock buzzes*
FUCK! Dammit, I’m late as hell. I’m supposed to be on my way to that executive assistant’s house by now to do her lawn. Lord knows she’s already been watching me . . . I can’t afford for her to have any ammunition against me. This landscaping crap is turning out to be a pain in my ass.
I just hope she doesn’t try to corner me about my paperwork. If she finds out about my family history, it’s a wrap for me here. And a nigga can’t be relocating like this all the time. I need to stay put. Make this work.
Come on, Mase. Get it together.
Shit! I can’t believe I overslept.
*getting into shower*
My dad always told me to stay true to your appointments. Be on time. People respect that. Yeah, a lot of good that did his ass. Now he’s about to be doing time for some of the appointments he made. What a fuckin’ joke. I grew up wanting to be like him, and now, his bullshit has got me on the run.
I DID learn some other things from my dad, though . . . like how to treat the ladies. As long as I can remember, my dad has always been smooth. I never exactly caught him cheating on my mom, but dammit if he didn’t have the smoothest conversations, making every woman that came around him blush.
Just like I did last night when Yalisha was here. I swear I put it on her. From the minute she walked in the door, it was on. Must’ve been the combination of the smell of the food, the scent on her neck and that damn figure that would make the number 8 bow down.
Or it could’ve been the look in her eyes as she came through the door with a basket full of food, and her eyes full of me. I had to slob her down. She looked so fuckin’ good. And when we got to the couch, and I found out the chick had no panties on–yeah.
Shit, that’s half the battle right there.
I headed straight for her “bay.” Stayed there until she came. Her moaning just made me work harder. Never broke a sweat, though. I’m too good at what I do. I don’t think Yanesha was ready for this. I should’ve told her that back home the ladies used to call me “So A-Mason.” A nigga earned that title.
Her game was tight, too. Once she put that phat ass on me, I got harder than 12th grade trig. Put in more strokes than an Olympic swimmer. Shit, I did a medley on her ass.
*laughs while massaging “himself”*
Damn. I gotta get the hell outta here. But I’m definitely gonna see that bitch again. She can cook her ass off. And to be able to cook THAT ass off is some damn good cookin’. And she has money. I need that. So, I’ll keep her close.
*stepping out of shower*
FUCK! This executive assistant better not fuck with me today. Well, unless she wants Mase to trim more than just the azalea bush. *grins* That I can do. But just don’t go asking about my past. Let me live. Shit.
Lemme stop trippin’. I’m just gonna go over there and do my thing. I can’t worry about that now. But a brotha is hungry. I wonder if I have time to heat up some of that lasagna before I head over . . .
*heads to kitchen*
Shit. Why not? I’m already late.