velvet paradise (ftm x fem)

Track 13

ALAIA

Jaire's symmetrical broad shoulders guide me through a secret entrance and into a green-lit lounge filled with haze. The pungent scent of superior-grade marijuana wafts into my nostrils and infiltrates my mind. Mary Jane's tempting me to embed her into my system, reminding me of our joyous times together. The Weeknd's sultry vocals rain down on the lounge's clouded atmosphere. Perched on a private balcony, a DJ nods to the beat. A black banner with green letters boldly declares "SEX SLAM" across the railings of the booth. Sex slam?!

Drizz better duck when I catch them. This isn't the classy poetry slam that I envisioned. Where are they? They better not be getting freaky with a groupie backstage.

Jaire points to the second floor, where VIP sections grace the balconies. He leans over and shouts, "That's where the big dogs sit, but I sit on the floor!" Aw, how humble of him to fellowship with the commoners. He gestures with his head for me to continue following him.

The lounge's organic and relaxed vibe grows stronger as we progress through the main floor. The joint has plenty of tables for patrons to sit, but the large conversation pits seem to be where it's at. Groups lounged on the floor-embedded cushions take in the ambiance while sharing joints and bongs. As we surf through the guests, they delightfully chat and take photos of the exclusive night. A group of girlfriends revel in the refreshing scenery, expressing shock about their admission.

The girlfriends lay eyes on Jaja Slidin'. Their screams of excitement turn into whispers and giggles. His stunning appearance mesmerizes the women until they scope the gorgeous girl trailing at his side. Three girlfriends have "Who's this bitch with my man?" glares.

While I can hear everyone's conversations, I can't comprehend one word. If I close my eyes, I can trick myself into believing I'm in a Sims nightclub with a plumbob over my head. Reading lips comes to my rescue in such situations.

I pretend to be unaware of the women scrutinizing me. Their presence in my peripheral is unknown to them. The tiniest glimpse of their mouths is enough for me to read their lips. My disability prompted me to learn speech reading. My tendency to be a nosy bitch resulted in my mastery of it.

One girl's lips read, "Oh my God, that's Alaia Lovelie from TikTok!"

She pronounces my name as most people incorrectly pronounce Aaliyah's: "Uh-lee-uh." In the words of my heavenly sister, it's "ah" like "Ali." Ah-lee-yah. Ah-lay-uh. I anticipated having similar name pronunciation issues as the late singer. Every social media profile has my name spelled phonetically. Yet, people still get it wrong. Maybe they'll get it right once I'm a world phenomenon. Probably not. Riri's name isn't even pronounced Rihanna.

With my recognition, one woman tries to take a picture with her phone. The girlfriend beside her slaps her arm. "Girl, don't get us kicked out!" her friend yells. "Doesn't she sing?"

My forehead smacks against a hard-ass shoulder. Wouch! That's my karma for being in people's mouths. However, I wouldn't have been prying if not for those meddling girlfriends. Yes, I'm with Jaja Slidin'. No, I'm not letting him slide into my walls.

I take accountability for considering pouncing on Jaire's dick. That was the old me. The slut I was 40 minutes ago is not who I am right now. Though symbolic, my nun habit sits securely on my Brazilian bundles. I'm Sister Mary Alaia for the rest of the night. Amen.

Jaire asks me a question as he turns to me. I nod. I didn't see his lips, but his knitted brows suggests he asked if I was okay. His heavenly lips are in motion. He completes his statement with an expectant stare. Fout. The allure of his lips distracted me from understanding their intent.