op·po·site
ˈäpəzət
-diametrically different; of a contrary kind.
Lauryn has been in the fast life for almost 5 years and her life was never easy. Now, she is approaching graduation for her masters degree. Even though her mindset has changed about be...
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I sigh and lay my head back unto the car's head rest after a long night. The spot wasn't busy, very slow, no ballers or potential sugar daddies. All I interacted with was smelly ass 9-5 men. The aroma of Vodka and Hennessy fill my mind as a memory of tonight. I barely remembered because I was tipsy myself. Being a stripper is a mental game. You deal with want-to-be ass pimps, 'Johns', men who want to feel loved, men who had a fetish and the curious men. I never was the stripper who sold her body on the side as a 'private dance', which had that virgin innocence to me. I did my job and went home. Of course, I have had men 'sponsor' me but there was a slight emotional connection there. But I never felt the love. The feeling was a high of temporary happiness. I grew popularity at the club because of my body. My skin was the perfect shade of a rich cinnamon paired with my straight hair that had a kink texture to it. I always played hard to get but deep down, I was still little girl, but contained a tough heart. Faint sounds of dogs barking break me out of my thoughts. I grab my my plastic bag and open the car door of my beige Honda Accord to walk toward my apartment. To my surprise I had a box waiting for me that read
" I'm sorry, baby doll. I hope to see you soon
-Armand"
I scoff because my sugar-daddy decided to place a peace offering after his wife decided to harass me about her husband. I laugh at the words she placed upon me "slut , whore, homewrecker, gold-digger". Of course, she was not lying about the last word but what her husband chose to do in his spare time was between him and his demons. Not me. I close my door trying to balance the box in my right and my money bag in the left. I dimly light my bedroom and turn on my neon lights. I toss both items on my white sheets and look for the blunt I left purposely to smoke when I arrive home. I heat it up on the side quickly, then, light the opposite end while pulling with my lips for the smoke to appear. I take a deep breath, inhale for 6 seconds, exhale. I remove my top and sweatpants to tuck myself under my comforter, while reaching for my box. I open it to see a $100 gift card to Sephora, a spa voucher, a Gucci fitted women's shirt, $500, and baby pink lingerie from Victoria's Secret. I trace the silk material while taking another pull.
"Nice. He knew he messed up big time" I place the box beside my bed while reaching for my money bag. I count my money and sigh. "$400...what am I going to do with this?" That's most likely a win for newbies but not for me. I usually average $1,500 a night being a headliner. I was known as the top girl at the club and every man wanted alone time with me. But that was rarely given because they knew what had to be given to me. I toss my bag on the floor and ponder about my next move because this game does not last forever, especially the looks and my body.
Being 25 and in the process of getting my masters accounting degree within 8 weeks, I knew I had to bow out of the game gracefully.
*
The next afternoon
Atlanta was a small city once you learned it but others insist it's a maze. Which is understandable to newcomers. I do my daily routine of a 2 mile run with incline on my treadmill, followed by squats with a little bit of lifting. I always kept my body in shape, due to my occupation and of course my health. I've just noticed that it's harder to keep a certain weight. I'm positive it has to do with my increase of age, which is discouraging but I manage. I shower and wash my hair in the process. Upon, leaving the shower I brush my hair into a puff that enhanced my kinky curls and displayed my innocent face. Small freckles were prevalent unto my baby smooth skin that had a slight glow. I put on a Nike sweatsuit that was dark blue and black Huarache shoes. I grab my wristlet purse, cell phone and head out of the door. I was determined to eat Waffle House today, especially when I knew that it was not busy on a Tuesday afternoon. I walk in with my head down, not wanting to be seen at the moment and I take a seat in a booth by a corner.
