He stared at me, clenching his jaw muscles. “Yo, that’s real fucked up. You on some ole other shit, for real, for real. But it’s all good. I ain’t beat. You’ll be blowing up my shit”—he grabbed at his crotch area—“tryna get at this dick again.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I firmly stated, holding the door open for him. “The one thing I never do, boo, is go back to dick I’ve dismissed.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he snapped, brushing past me. “Fucking bitch! I don’t know why I fucked with your ho ass any damn way.”

I laughed at his ass. “But I’m a damn good one, remember that. Got your silly ass feenin’ for this tight pussy, don’t I? Had you tryna suck the nut outta this ho pussy, didn’t I? How many times you had your tongue buried up in this ho’s ass, huh, nigga? Let’s talk about how many times you begged me to let you slide your dick up in this sweet, juicy ho box raw. Nigga, you fucked with my ho ass ’cause I rode your tongue and dick down into the mattress, and had your dumb ass stuttering.”

He glared at me, but said nothing.

“Unh-huh, just what I thought. Yeah, I’m a ho, baby. But you can best believe it’ll be a long, cold day in hell before you ever sniff this pussy again.”

I slammed the door on him, then peered out the window and watched him get into his burgundy Acura coupe and peel out of the driveway, burning rubber in the process. That was months ago. And now he has the nerve to ring my line like everything’s sweet. My, my, my…how the chickens come home to roost.

“Mmm-hmm,” I finally say, flicking imaginary dirt from under my fingernail. “So, why are you really calling?”

“I wanna swing through on my way to work to see you. I wanna lay in bed with you and hold you in my arms.”

“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you want to lay up in a ho’s bed and hold her in your arms. Now, ain’t this some shit?”