From the twisted mind of Bernadette Cooper. Introducing, Julia La Fontaine. Take pleasure in the adventures of the sexually fluid; Harlem-born, Magnum, Howard University graduate's, journey of self-discovery. Submit to Julia as she embarks on a new mission: to escape her haunting childhood and the jaded expectations of her mother. In concert with the search for happiness. Julia discovers that desperation is not a beautiful perfume when she dramatically falls for the licentious, all-American star quarterback, who annihilates her dreams, Julia's purpose, and sabotages her commonsensical life plan. On the path of her re-invention, the winding road was taken leads her to the discovery of sex, lies, and flash drives, the unearthing of a clandestine transgender love affair, role playing, and desire on another level. The bad theatrics of her past eventually guides Julia La Fontaine, the Harlem-based corporate executive, into an escalating, woman to woman dalliance. And in a sequel she slowly falls into the supporting arms of a dominatrix rockstar. Novella, the enhanced Bernadette Cooper's audio book, and the mixtape available January 2017. Adult content.

ࡱ>     ,bjbj 1IIIII]]]8, (|]JD=*=*(e*e*e**,*,*,IIIIIII$NQnJI*,,"*,*,*,JIIe*e*&J:---*,Ie*Ie*{Hp-*,I--Y00e* cF] -Lq0gH`J<Jy0,QX-jQ00QI?5(-*,*,*,JJ-*,*,*,J*,*,*,*,Q*,*,*,*,*,*,*,*,*, :  licentiousLicentious, all-American star quarterback, who annihilates her dreams, Julia's purpose, In A Strange Way volume one From the twisted mind of Bernadette Cooper. Introducing, Julia La Fontaine. Take pleasure in the adventures of the sexually fluid; Harlem-born, Magnum, Howard University graduate's, journey of self-discovery. Submit to Julia as she embarks on a new mission: to escape her haunting childhood and the jaded expectations of her mother. In concert with the search for happiness. Julia discovers that desperation is not a beautiful perfume when she dramatically falls for the licentious, all-American star quarterback, who annihilates her dreams, Julia's purpose, and sabotages her commonsensical life plan. On the path of her re-invention, the winding road taken leads her to the discovery of sex, lies, and flash drives, the unearthing of a clandestine transgender love affair, role-playing, and desire on another level. The bad theatrics of her past eventually guides Julia La Fontaine, the Harlem-based corporate executive, into an escalating, woman-to-woman dalliance. And in a sequel, she slowly falls into the supporting arms of a dominatrix rock star. DEDICATION This book is dedicated to the two amazing women that changed my perception of what love is or could be. They were married in 1981, way before same-sex marriage was even thought of. Watching them today has made me appreciate the meaning of unconditional love. I Love you, Jeanie Cunningham, and Lady Ayn. ~Bernadette Cooper In A Strange Way. Volume one ISBN# EAN- Foreword by Bernadette Cooper Copyright 2016 Text and compilation Copyright 2016 by Bernadette Cooper, Copyright Library of Congress index #: TXu 2-010-535 Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved under International Copyright Law. Contents and cover may not be reproduced in whole or, in part, in any form or by any means, without the express written consent of the Author and Publisher. Cover Designed By Bernadette Cooper Art Director, the Universe, Inc Layout by Bernadette Cooper This novella is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons. Living or dead, business establishments, events, dates. Is entirely coincidental or at the writer's discretion. Table of Contents Author's Foreword: What I am now learning about myself is that my skinny legs, speech impediment and my shyness, the things that I thought were my imperfections, are all part of the plan. 'In A Strange Way,' Volume one, reads like a compelling voyage of self-discovery, on so many levels This novella is the first installment in a trilogy. This salacious tale is expressed, through the eyes and lips of Ms, Julia La Fontaine. The saga is an escape, eroticism, sabotage, and friendship all at its universal finest. The story of what two people, in concert with the desire to elevate, can accomplish. It is unapologetically Julia's passage to freedom. Julia La Fontaine Is the epitome of self-love and sexual fluidity, searching to find a safe place where spirituality and sexuality coexist. She's very conscious about what she wants in life, and for most, that is a very refreshing attribute. I am optimistic that you will find just a small part of her story that will elevate your life in a positive way We must learn to spiritually strengthen and trust our Instincts to guide us through, to our personal, divine, targeted path. Because there really are no other true compass to direct you. Please take a moment, rid yourself of prejudice and judgment, and view life through the eyes of Julia La Fontaine. Strap on to your seatbelts because it is going to be a lustful ride. Diva Love, Bernadette Cooper FROM THE BLACK AND WHITE, INTO THE GREY IN A STRANGE WAY Volume 1 Hello, my name is Julia La Fontaine. I am five-feet-nine, one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds with a creamy, caramel, complexion. Some may classify me as an African American, but I consider myself to be a black Italianate by the blood of my illegitimate father. I can adjust to any place or around anybody, but for the sake of argument, I am a black woman with the lack of a big butt. However, I make up for it with amazingly long legs and will bait you with thirty-eight-DD money makers. I'm wearing my hair long and straight these days, very similar to a "Cleopatra" styleyou know short, blunt bangs with a silky black hue. I finally graduated from the prestigious Magnum School of Business in Arlington West Virginia. To further my education, I recently took a twenty-week, long-ass course focusing on the financial business. One might call it a revision class, polishing up on my economic expertise. Although I'm "smarter than the average bear," after graduating I am resolved to get as far away from the financial institution as possible. It completely bores me. Therefore, this is my happiness plan; Let me tell you what this refresher course has motivated me to do. I'm going to get that large six figure a year job at any major company. I am not picky, because it's not a career move for me. I'll work for five-to-ten years, Get the 401(k) plan, obtain the top of the line medical benefits and keep them in continuously in effect, acquire mad stock options in the company and ink a major executive bonus deal. Then, I will cash the hell out. Afterward, I plan to purchase distressed properties and sell them. I love to renovate and decorate, so this will be exciting. I'm going to repeat this a few times, open up an antique store somewhere cozy, maybe in Connecticut or Jersey. Anywhere that is in a relaxed, upwardly mobile community, possibly out of the country. I can do this until I am at least in my fifties. Then buy a house, get a thirty-year fixed mortgage, live in that bad girl and acquire loans to fix it up to the max. In ten years, I will pull out all of the equity, get a reverse mortgage and live in the house for the rest of my life without paying a dime. This diagram is of my design, what I absorbed from my attendance at the prestigious Magnum School of business. I cannot imagine living the rest of my life in the financial, business world. I will be turning thirty-six years old this year, something I am a little nervous about because, even though my career path is on the way up, your girl is jaded. I question, when is my life going to get exciting? It needs to be revitalized; I am searching for some stimuli. Not typical, not ordinary, fierce, healthy, drama is what I need in my life, honey! I am a proud Harlem girl, the oldest from a mother who had six children. Consider me the surrogate mama, because I had to raise my brothers and sisters while my mom worked every day. She was the head of the housekeeping staff, at the Jackson Continental hotel near Forty-Fifth Street and Broadway. Yeah, it is a second-star hotel, but it was steady work for my mother and besides, none of the baby daddies were around to help. I learned a lot from my domesticated mom, and I was house trained. I am going to make somebody a good wife. Watching how hard she worked to cultivate my maternal soul, I did not mind helping out with the washing, cooking, and cleaning if it alleviated the pressures off her. A year before I was born, she had a brief affair with an Italian chef who was the head pastry cook in the kitchen of the hotel that she worked for. That is, of course, until he found out my mom was pregnant with me, and then he disappeared. Maybe he went back to Italy or took the number two train up to the Bronx, no one knows. The only thing my mother knew for sure about him was his first and last name: Adolfo La Fontaine. She never heard from him again. My mother was a typical black Harlem mother with a whole lot of love to give to a no-good man. All six of my siblings have different daddies, but none of them was around or paid child support. My mother was an Aquarius with that stubborn pride, but she believed in two things: education and excellent credit. Did I mention she is beautiful? Back In her day, she made the "Men All Pause." She's a very dark-complexioned woman with animated features, high cheekbones, full lips, tall and lean. In fact, in her younger years, she was approached by a modeling agency wanting to sign her, but my grandmother denied her that opportunity because she needed her to work and support the family. My mother was forced to drop out of school in the eighth grade to be a seamstress at the local Missy dress shop. Speaking of my earlier years with my mom, our relationship has been trying. Just remember that old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?" is a myth. The wounds have left invisible scars. My mother was a street-educated woman who used her common sense as her compass. During the mid-nineteen-nineties when the state of New York wanted to revitalize Harlem. There were many burnt out, abandon brownstones, at least, eight to ten per block. They were "marked with an X by the Fire Dept" meaning no one is legally living on the premises. Most of these properties were used for stashing drugs, transient living quarters or some other sort of illegal activity. The city decided to sell these distressed properties, at a low price, but the purchaser had to do the renovations. My mother with a high FICO score and fifty-thousand-dollars as a down payment, which she saved from the inheritance of my grandmother's life Insurance policy, purchased two brownstones on 127th Street, for eighty-five-thousand-dollars each. Combined, she paid one-hundred and seventy-thousand-dollars for both. Then she assumed an additional loan for renovations. Now, in 2016, the Brownstones are worth one-million-eight-hundred-thousand-dollars each. Yes, my friend, that black woman who scrubbed the toilets at the 'Jackson Continental hotel is now a millionaire and counting. Currently, she is a property owner and constantly being harassed by developers, who are willing to pay her triple for what is now considered prime New York real estate. My mom is where I got my brains and my "Chutzpah." This is why I could afford to attend the prestigious" Magnum School of business." However, don't think that privilege buys everyone a way out. My remaining brothers and sister havent ever made it out of Harlem. Most of them are now crack addicts or have so many kids they don't know what to do. They still have a problem with integration and rarely go downtown to get a meal. Some people live and die in the ghetto of their minds. I have two sides to my personality; one is thoroughly professional and corporate. I dress, walk and can talk their language, but prefer speaking to you in my Harlem Dialect. Trust me; it is much more colorful and engaging. I am very in touch with the fact that I am a girl from Harlem. This gives me an advantage cause most people in the corporate world are using the right side of their brain and ignore their left-brain's common sense and creativity. I am the quintessence of both. I integrate my savoir-faire, I am a connoisseur of art and wine, and have hood credibility. This has given me an advantage in the workplace. In addition, let me not fail to mention that my "Manolo Blahnicks" and kick ass attitude are the reason why they accepted me at "Magnum." Not many black women are able to attend the Magnum school of business, but, quiet as it is kept, not many white women are either. It is pretty much an all boys club. Even if a female did attend, staying with the program and graduating is a feat worth mentioning. Harlem taught me great focus and work ethics. This was needed to achieve greatness and not to become a statistic like my brothers and sisters. I didn't just pop out of the sky and attend the Magnum School of Business; I have an M.B.A and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Howard" University, so I am the business. Even though my language borderlines foul and oftentimes crass, it is just for the dramatics. I can snatch back at any time and recite Shakespeare; even he expressed himself with 'swagger.' My vast communications blameworthiness is by way of the streets of Harlem, in concert with constant edification from my mama. After graduating from Howard, I was immediately offered a job as a manager in the royalty department, working at "Savvy Records" company. Then, eventually moved up to an A&R position, signed, developed a few bands and executive produced two successful solo albums. After ten years with the company, the head honcho of A&R noticed that I had cultivated my niche in finding hit records, therefore; he offered me my own imprint label. However, after years of discontentment, I began to scrutinize their horrible judgment of placing CFO's in a variety of creative and decision-making positions at the company. This changed the direction of the music. It became more about numbers than artistry. I did not want to be there any longer. The industry was declining, so I decided to jump ship and change my career path. When my mother insisted on paying for Magnum business school, the decision was made. I am accustomed to being around Fortune 500 executives, CEOs, and COO's of corporations, and trust me, there are rumblings around the office. I am ambiguous because of my corporate power and my Ferrari (which was a gift from my mother). Men have a problem with women who are strong, and they just cannot figure out how to get me into bed. Not all the pick-up lines that they use on strippers work for me. Most of the male species does not understand that there are levels to this shit. It is the caveman theory: (In my cave dweller's voice) I am - man, you are - woman, I have - penis, you have - vagina. Trust meif I didn' t want to be blackballed from this industry, I would have a plethora of sexual harassment suits. I consider myself to be somewhat of a straight woman, but I am "Selectively Bi," fluid so to speak. Nevertheless, if you had preferred that I give the box a name, open is my favor. I'm attracted to fabulous in any form. I love the presence of a real man. No earrings, Nada braids, non-man bags, just a tee shirt, jeans or a double-breasted suit wearing kind of guy. I have dabbled with a few discerning females at times, never for relationships, only during those times that I needed an ET. (Extra trade, "cute," or extraterrestrial, "not so cute")In other words, just a FACE to fill those lonely nights. I am far from confused, but I admit to definitely straddling the line. To me, gay is sort of its own religion, a way of life and an acceptance. I am respectful and don't think I fit into the club. They would surely hold a meeting and vote me out for being trifling. Many will argue me down about this. My answer is, I have also smoked pot and tried cocaine, yet that does not make me a drug addict. It makes me a diva that experiments and is open to new things. Being with a woman was definitely a choice for me. In fact, I remember the very day that the decision was made. It was after my boyfriend Rayshawn had cheated on me. He was the other cheater that I'd experienced in my young years. I got a quick glimpse of how the rest of my life may possibly be. Being a quick learner, I said to myself, "Self, there has got to be more of a selection or variety to love. My mom, the landlord, had rented an apartment to two women. They occupied the unit in the back that had a beautiful garden and an outside Jacuzzi. My mother and I had no idea that these women were lovers until one night they had a party. We both watched from our window, with a clear view of their garden area, women dancing, kissing, and fondling each other. We could not believe it. My mom started quoting Bible scriptures and was appalled. She was trying to figure out ways to evict them. I, on the other hand, discovered that I had a choice. The next day all dressed up in space costumes, the two girls were on their way out, to a 'Labelle' concert. My mother looked at them and shook her head in disgust, but I smiled with delight. My chosen preference is white because, in the corporate world, these are the only men and women I have constant contact with. The problem with these corporate white Divas is that they are in a constant analyzation mode, with no concept of differentiators. Always searching to live in the moment, but they never find it. They are nervous and most make bad decisions in their love lives. Figuring they have money so they'll search for that 'Luther Vandross' "Any love" to fill their lonely nights. Ironically, most often end up with losers. The stay at home type, just anyone that appears to be closest to the same, old, Jell-O mode, that they freeze every Thanksgiving. In fact, if someone wonderful came into their lives, that would be unfamiliar to them, and they will surely pass them by. A potato pie, at Thanksgiving, is surely a conspiracy. Not to mention that when I go to visit them, it's continuously the movie "Guess who's coming to dinner. " Always trying to envision my black world and if I will blend in around their robotic friends. Then the invited guest begins with those undercover test questions to evaluate my standing in the community. "Are you married? So, do you rent or are you buying your home?" Their world is really quite boring. They are continuously climbing that ladder hoping to find happiness in a promotion when their real passion is something simple as drawing portraits or playing the drums in a cheap rented rehearsal space on Sunday afternoons. Though white chicks are perfect for secrecy. Especially when there is a black strap on, somewhere in the room, harnessed and ready. Then black suddenly becomes beautiful. Why no Sista's? I love my Nubian queens, I am just a cautious girl and very leery of whom perhaps might know my mother. It is a possibility that their mom and mine go to the same church together, and my business may be blabbed to the deacons and missionaries. I am my mom's protector, and this would hurt my elderly mother, who now only lives by her pastor's interpretation of the word. She's now getting on with her life and should not be forced to understand her daughter's un-virtuous ways. I don't do butch, country, or basic women. Nor can I date a Drama Queen, a Mr. Cope less, or a prudent man. It's hard to appreciate the "DG's," the delusional girls, who boast and are defined by their "Chanel" bags when there's one sitting at every gourmet restaurant table. Nor the ones, who are void of consciousness, like the type who will step over a homeless man to get to a pair of Gucci loafers. I love the qualities of personal style, humbleness, and remarkable confidence. I will probably never be the one that comes out of the closet at the company picnic because I do not want any opposing opinions when it comes down to that corporate sponsorship. It is sad, but even though companies advocate for LGBT equality in the workplace, prejudice lingers on with the big decision-making boys. They may not say or show it, but when they're around their friends with a champagne flute in their hands, the discussion is about how uncomfortable the room felt when you made your coming-out announcement. No shade, it's real. My plan is short term, and the corporate world is a brief detour on my road to happiness. So I want the suits to feel comfortable in telling me the company secrets or the code to the bomb, and not be dismayed, because I can't even keep my own personal secrets. Privacy is imperative to me as I diagram my escape away, to follow my dreams. I want no road to be blocked en route to happiness! As far as my first choice for a serious mate, I would like to meet someone that I can respect and displays major character, like a man who invented the cure for Melasma or a chick who volunteers at the retirement community on the weekends. Preferably someone close to my age with an old soul. It has nothing to do with money, but everything to do with wanting to kiss someone with morals and wake up to someone that I honor. As you can see, I have a problem with being put in a box. Most people see life in black and white. I see purple, green and fuzzy. MY CLOTHES HAVE EMOTIONS (Fashion girl) I awakened this morning to an email from a company owned by "Sternway Mackinfield: a major conglomerate holding company. OMG, I thought as I jumped up and made a pot of Sumatra so that I was seeing and thinking clearly. I read the email from the recruiter who wanted to discuss the offer further. For this, I needed a shower first, then to take the head rag that knots in the front, off my head, to unwrap my hair and let it flow. I wanted to feel and look business-like before discussing this matter. I exchanged emails with the headhunter and was quite pleased with our discussion. This was a dream offer. I thought someone might be playing a joke on me until I received the call from Beth, the head of human resources at the company. They wanted to meet with me at their sister, corporate office in Battery Park today. The president of the firm, who had selected me, would personally be interviewing me. He was leaving on a flight later this evening. I had exactly three hours to do hair, makeup, get suited up and get a cab to take me downtown. I was so happy that I had gotten my nails done yesterday and decided on a traditional color, as opposed to the silver glitter unemployed look that I wear on my off days. I also wanted to eat, so that my focus would not be on food. Besides, mother needs a little brainpower! Therefore, I heated up the Salmon tacos that I prepared last night. Christian Louboutins, my "Hermes" scarf, and my "Ralph Lauren" black suit were on the fashion menu. I had been saving this scarf for a special occasion, and this offer was exceptional. As I exited, my apartment, my doorman held the door open for me. I was in the mood to get this job. I felt on fire. Traffic was insane, and my inconsiderate cabbie was texting while driving. I said, "Either put your phone down or take me to the precinct so I can report you because that shit is illegal." He looked at me in his rearview mirror like, I should have never picked your black ass up. Whatever! We finally arrived at my destination with twenty minutes to spare, enough time to get my thoughts together. Taking the elevator to the tenth floor, sashaying into the ladies room to freshen up, I must admit assurance was written all over my face. I opened the door to the agency and introduced myself to the secretary. "Hello." Julia La Fontaine was in the building. Before I could sit down, the door to his office opened, and the CEO came out to greet me. The person that I met was very unassuming. He was casually dressed and was unapologetic about it. He did mention that he was flying out of town, and his luggage was already packed. He immediately admired my scarf, which anyone with a delicacy for excellent taste would have done. He said, "I have looked at a lot of applicants, but after reading your resume I had to meet you. Your accomplishments are quite impressive." We chatted for a while about subjects other than work. He seemed to have his mind already made uphe just wanted to meet his prospective candidate personally before making a decision. He excused himself by saying, "I do have another meeting, but my secretary will get in touch with you." Now, I was not sure if that meant I got the position or not, but I was proud of my effort. I decided that since I was downtown, I would do a little shopping and survey the area where the Twin Towers were located. I used to come here often, sometimes late in the evening just to get fresh hot donuts from the Krispy Kreme donut shop that was located on the bottom floor of the towers. I could not believe how things had changed, and I thought of all of my corporate and personal friends that I lost. This is one of the reasons that I chose to develop my plan and start living my divine life sooner rather than later. I am very clear on what is best for Julia La Fontaine. I then took a cab to the East Village area, where I stopped and grabbed a bite to eat. My favorite veggie spot, "Red Bamboo," was filled to capacity as usual. Upon entering, I saw a reflection of myself in the window and again realized that the diva looked fabulous. I began singing, "Slap me cause it's time to go shopping, I'm just a "Fashion Girl," rocking the runway hair, roaming the neighborhood, strolling the boulevard." by Bernadette Cooper. However, my feet were starting to let me know that a hurting on my bunion was inevitable, so I flagged down a cab! After the warning from my Louboutins, I headed home, jumped in the shower and waited for what could possibly be the next phase of my life My face fell on the floor, and my legs flew in the air. After making me wait for two days, which seemed like an eternity, I received the callyour girl got it, I got the damn job. This offer was not capable of being refused; it was more than I could ever ask for. Not only the money, but also the perquisites and benefits were awesome. The only unforeseen problem with the proposal was that I had to relocate to Los Angeles, California, and they requested that I start in thirty days. The invitation to join such a prestigious company had made all my rigorous studies and hard work meaningful. It was everything, including a hefty relocation package to California. This girl was thinking clearly and fast as I prepared for the written offer. Of course, I did not want to leave my mother or other siblings, but the offer was much too grand for me to pass up. Making the decision to visit the wine shop, located at the corner of 'come see me and buy another bottle of Argentina Malbec, was a celebratory move, and it helped me to arrive at a quick result. Together, the wine and I made the decision to accept the position and move to California. I thought, 'What a difference twenty-four hours makes.' Yesterday I was sober with hope, now I'm drunk on ambition.' My counter offer was a sixty-day start and additional fifty-thousand-dollars per year. I know from my years of negotiating that company's hold back on their best offer. Therefore, now your girl is passing the time. I jumped every time the phone rang, or an email came through, hoping to get their response soon. Nevertheless, the process was taking longer than I expected. Three days had gone by, and I began questioning my counter offer. Was I too greedy? I called my mother, and she was praising God. She felt content with the idea of me moving to California. She was excited and looking forward to visiting, especially the Grauman's Chinese theater, and seeing the stars handprints. I asked her opinion on my negotiating strategy. She said, "Sweetheart, you did the right thing, you did what any white woman would have done. Earn their respect by being unwilling to sacrifice your worth." I thought to myself, "She is correct." I thanked my dear mom and continued to wait. My friend Gerry came by to visit, and he brought over a bottle of champagne to rejoice in my possible victory. Gerry was an "extreme sports fighter." You know the ones that get in a cage and beat each other up like hungry Pitbull's? He was six-one, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscles and scar tissue, and the best rough sex I have ever had in my Harlem life. He introduced me to the world of the chokehold, and now that is a requirement in my every-other-week or month sex life. No romance, just spankings and often time's interrogations. As in, Gerry barks, "Where are the secret papers located?" My response: "I don't know, I swear, please don't hurt me." Gerry: "Well then, I'm going to give you a very, hard spanking until you find them." My reply, "Oh no, not spankings, anything, but that" This went on for hours, I must say, Gerry played his position well. Yes. If I went to Cali, Gerry would be missed. The only odd thing about Gerry is that he has been kicked in the head too much, and he has a twitch. Now I can overcome the 'twitch' when the lights are off, and I have one, not two, but one candle lit. However, with the lights on, it's an orgasm killit is a distraction, people! Therefore, this ET (extraterrestrial, because of the twitch) will not be traveling coach to visit me. Morning swooped in, I opened my eyes, and my head was pounding from a slight hangover. Gerry and the twitch were gone, and I rushed to my computer to check my email. But to no avail. I started preparing myself for the letdown. I thought, "I didn't want to go to Cali anyway, fake ass people," I pulled out the glitter nail polish and proceeded to paint my unemployed nails, and then the phone rang. The caller said, "Ms. La Fontaine, this is Beth from human resources. Your offer was approved, and I will be sending over the contract via messenger for your approval and signature." "Of course, they accepted my offer because in my Bernadette Cooper voice, "I'm just too good for these people!" I screamed. Packing up my life was trouble-free. I only had the job of overseeing the project, because my relocation package was generous. My contribution to the process was to hire the packers, movers, and a cleaning company. I did not have to lift a fingernail. I decided to donate most of my furniture to my mother to put into one of her unrented Brownstone apartments. Why should I transport the standard furnishings, as if in California, they do not sell beds or refrigerators? I am only taking select individual pieces that speak to me and that I cannot live without in this world. Decorating is a love of mine; my new spot will be as an old photograph found in an antique store, 'filled with rare finds.' The only items that I personally brought out of my apartment were my clothes, or drag, as in my vintage "Kansai jacket that I never threw away. Did I mention that a black Fashionista mama was in my DNA? I collect unusual one-of-a-kind designer pieces, and they must have a parlour in which to dwell. Not just an ordinary closet in my home. My clothes have emotions. I was lucky to find a temporary spot on Airbnb located in Marina Del Rey, California. The house was cute and less expensive than a hotel, but it was only available for thirty days, so upon arrival, I had to immediately seek a permanent place. I would really love a loft, but most of them are in the downtown district of Los Angeles, which was too far away from my new job in the Century City area. Damn, I am really going to miss my friends. I am a very outgoing, hang out, type of chick, and I will miss my crew. I was rushing too fast to organize a gathering, so I called my friend Veronica, and she spread the word for me. My bro friend, who is a technology wizard, connected us all with one of his apps, and we said our goodbyes via the internet. I just received a text from the auto transport company stating that my Ferrari will not arrive in Los Angeles for another two weeks. No problem, I just extended my vehicle rental, and now, instead of a car, I think I want to roll in a Wrangler Jeep so that I could enjoy the Cali weather. I had heard that the people in Los Angeles were shallow, pretentious and dress to the nines, well, that sounded like my type of crowd, I couldn't wait to get there. My ex and I had been co-parenting our dog Kung Foo, and he was having a hissy fit over the possibility of me taking Foo with me to California. Okay, now, my ex is one of the largest real estate developers in New York, and he is crying over our dog. He didn't boohoo like that for me when I left him! Since he loves Kung Foo as much as I do and has a swanky apartment overlooking Central Park, I didn't want to deprive Kung Foo of the country club atmosphere that my ex-maintained, or his daily walks in the park. Therefore, we decided to keep him in New York, and I would get visitations whenever and on Christmas. After leaving instructions with my pudgy ex not to feed 'Foo every time his Jenny Craig ass ate, our pooch custody agreement was finalized. I moved on to my next responsibility. My mother now has primary custody of my goldfish, "RuPaul." I was booked on the red-eye, overnight flight, first class, of course, leaving in three days. I really didn't have time to bid farewell to everyone in my family, but there was the elderly woman, Mrs. Dennis, who was seventy-nine years old, on the third floor that I must bid farewell too. I am worried about her the most. I left five hundred dollars on the books for her, at the Bodega on the corner, across from the 'come see me and buy a bottle' wine shop. This should cover her groceries and delivery charges for a while. They are instructed to call me when the money is depleted so that I can replenish. I have a particular credit card set aside for her so that she will always have food and fresh flowers. We have spent lots of time together, especially in the winter. I didn't have to knock on her door because I have a key to her apartment, however, out of respect I always do. When entering, I noticed that she was sitting in her favorite mauve chair. It was part of a set of 'his and her' cathedras, and she often stared at his empty chair and would not allow anyone to sit on it. She and her husband worked hard and saved their money to furnish their apartment. He even took a second job, a janitor's position at night, to provide for her. I said, "Hello Mrs. Dennis, how are you?She replied, "Hey baby girl, I haven't seen you around for a couple of days." I acknowledged, "Yes, Mrs. Dennis, I brought you flowers, and I need to speak to you about something very exciting." "What, precious?" she answered. I sat down on her mauve, with strands of gold colored French provincial sofa and told her, "I have good news and bad. I received a new job offer, but it's located in California." She said, "California, baby that's a long way, but a positive thing." She continued "It's time for you to spread your wings, you must go." At this point, I began to cry because I would miss Mrs. Dennis, this beautiful, wise woman who reminded me of my own grandmother who had passed. I continued, "I'm leaving in three days, but I made sure that you are taken care of at the bodega. Anything that you want, just call them, and they will deliver it to you." She responded, "Oh, you didn't have to do that, baby." I responded, "No Mrs. Dennis, it's okay, there will certainly be a void in my life without you." I then hugged and thanked her for the love and wisdom she bestowed on me. I went to my apartment and cried because it suddenly hit me that she and I both will now be alone. REINTRODUCE ME TO LOVE The car service arrived at exactly 9 p.m; I wanted to reach my destination, Kennedy airport, at least, two hours before my flight left, I hate to rush. I had on my favorite Ralph Lauren riding pants, riding boots, an oversized sweater, and my favorite black velvet flight pillow. I'm always prepared just in case my plane has to make an emergency landing, in the middle of the jungle and I must run for my survival. Your girl planned this trip lightly everything else was in the truck on the way to Cali. I just wanted to sleep. Arriving at the airport, I noticed a black Escalade limousine pulling up behind me. I entered the ticket area and through the window, watched as this voluptuous, honey-nut, dripping, black woman stepped out of her private car. One leopard print boot on the pavement and then the other one followed. She had wild bed hair, big black sunglasses, and an oversized computer bag. I would say she is possibly in her mid-fifties giving me very much Cleopatra Jones. She also appeared to be traveling light and was frantic, rushing to catch her flight. All of the skycaps greeted her with respect. Some were flirting, most of them were staring, and one of them appeared to get her autograph. I continued to observe all of this from a prime view, the airport terminal. I guess she realized that her flight was later than she originally anticipated because she calmed down. I loved the way she walked with so much confidence and major swagger. When she turned around, I suddenly realized who she wasit was Starr Love. The legendary Starr Love is a recording artist that was once on the 'Savvy' record company roster. I know because I worked her last album. Legendary, because she had been signed to the company for thirty years. The label kept re-signing her. She was one of those rare artists that are still working in the industry and loved by many. She looked great, a very sexy woman. As I went through security, I noticed she was behind me in line and presumed she was on my flight, I walked to my gate, found a seat and came across an Italian "Vogue" magazine that someone left behind. As a result, I gazed at photos while waiting for my boarding call. Suddenly noticing a commotion, and distracted by my peripheral vision of Starr Love, at the boarding desk, grandly raising hell, with her gestures, not her voice. The Diva was requesting to have her flight bumped up to first class, challenging the fact that she had more travel miles than they had computed. They re-checked and apparently granted her wish. I judged all of this by the radiance of her smile. While Ms. Love purchased a salad and a bottle of Evian from the concession stand; I could not help but watch her. First, she is a star and most of all, she was interesting. I waited for the final boarding call because of my desire to linger until the plane is completely boarded. I hate the vibe when everyone is either staring at me while passing the first class area or trying to avoid my eye contact because I'm in the luxury class and they are not. I am guilty of doing it when I have to fly coach. Maybe it is just my thing, but it is very much the 'Haves and the Have-Nots' on those damn flights. What a must-have for me is a window seat on the left-hand side of the plane because my body is used to sleeping in that position. I generally bring my own blanket because the blanket that the airlines often provide makes me itch. And I'm fearful of bed bugs since that major epidemic here in New York. I noticed Ms. Starr Love entered the plane and began speaking to the flight attendant about an available space for her large computer case. I sat down and got comfortable, preparing to snooze. After the had found her an empty overhead space, Starr Love walked towards my row and sat in the empty seat next to me. Nervous, at first, I was going to close my eyes and pretend I was sleeping, but it was much too early in the flight, and I'm still unsettled in my seat. So I said, "Hello, I'm your neighbor." She looked at me and replied, "Well, hello back, you look very familiar." I responded, "Yes, I worked In A&R for 'Savvy Records.' I worked your last project, Starlight by Starr Love, which was amazing, by the way. My name is Julia La Fontaine." She said, "JULIA, oh yes, I know you, how have you been, love? I didn't recognize you with the Cleopatra look, but I love it." I giggled before complimenting, "You look fabulous Ms. Starr Love. She replied, "Well, thank you, I am exhausted from performing last night at BB King and had an hour and fifty-five-minute show; I sang all of my hits and then some. Girl, I am tired, and need a drink to relax, will you join me for a drink?" Now, I am a woman who understands the meaning of a cocktail. In the real world, it means breaking bread and extending an invitation for sharing. However, in a professional setting, it means getting fucked up. Corporate people are not allowed to do drugs due to mandatory drug testing'sthat is why most of us are baby alcoholics. The money is good, but the expectations and the stress that comes along with climbing that ladder will cause a girl to indulge. I agreed, and Starr summoned the flight attendant for two glasses of Chardonnay. I preferred a Merlot, but I was not fussy. Starr Love kicked off those leopard boots and slid on a pair of black cashmere socks. I noticed that her toes were freshly pedicure with Burgundy polish, very similar to the color on her nails and lips. It is not my style, but it looked great on her. The wine was served and Starr, very grandly requested that the flight attendant refills our glasses in about fifteen minutes: "You know, these stewardesses nowadays will give you attitude right back. She responded, "Sure, Ms. Love, I will bring you both two more mini bottles." Starr Love graciously nodded, but I think that was a 'Read.' I thought to myself, "Bottle, glasses, Tomato, Tamata, whatever," As we began to drink I was getting tipsier. The flight was finally taking off. I could not wait to get in the air, recline my seat, and relax. Our conversation continued. At first, it was very apprehensive and informal-like, but after the second 'Drinky-Poo,' we began to unwind as we discussed various subject matters. Starr Love was the queen of our chitchat, "You know, I've had a beautiful life. Everything I have ever envisioned has come to pass. But maturity does force one to ask themselves, What the hell do you want with the second half of your life? I've decided that performing and touring is my passion." As she spoke, I could not help, but notice her long manicured fingers and those beautifully preserved hands. By this time I had forgotten all about her being a star. We started chatting as if we were old friends. She persisted with her thoughts, "You know I live in California now?" "Really," I gloated, "Girl, I'm moving to Cali, on my way now to look for a place and start a new job." As my lips were speaking, my eyes were playing Ms. Pacman, because Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde would not stop focusing on the flashing dots. I could not help but noticed she had amazing breasts for a woman of her age, no wrinkles, and such a beautiful mouth. I wanted to ask her age, but that is entirely improper in the entertainment business. As a result, I slowed my roll and inquired, "When did you move from New York?" Starr replied, "Well, actually I was living In Hoboken, Jersey City, when my mom had a stroke, then I closed up shop and moved back to California to take care of her." I replied, "How noble of you, I'm sorry to hear about your mom, is she okay?" Starr replied, "Yes, she is well. It's really a welcome sacrifice for me to take care of her." I had to commend her on such a valiant effort, "You will be blessed for the care of your mom." Starr Love then asked," Do you want to know a secret? My dream is to open up an antique store. That would be such a breath of fresh air, especially after this music journey. It is just another passion that I'd love to pursue. I believe that you have many passions on this earth. The thing is to not get stuck in one, to do them all." I found great comfort in conversing with Starr Love, I am now starting to separate her from the Legendary Starr, and genuinely like her as a person. I blurted out, "Tell me one of your regrets?" She thought for a while, "One of my disappointments is trying to fit in with the common folks. People feel comfortable in telling you that everyone is the same, but in my travels, I have found that not to be true. It is about tribes, morals, values, and connecting to other people who are of the same tribe. There are a lot of dream killers, and I've been murdered many times, girl. Questioning, "So, what is there to do in Los Angeles? What is a day like for you?" "What isn't there to do?" She responded, "My days are usually calm. I get up in the morning, cook breakfast for my mother and go running at Runyon Canyon Park or around the Hollywood land Reservoir. Then I may pop in and have a quick bite at my favorite breakfast joint, Ed's coffee shop. I actually knew Ed himself back in the eighties. I am the one who introduced him to grits, and he added it to his menu, now his daughter runs the place after his wife passed away. Following breakfast, it is back to my apartment, chilling out, creating and loving it." As she was speaking, I paid close attention to her mannerismsand this woman does not look a day over forty-years old. A bit of an ageist? Probably, because I am consumed with scrutiny by her aura and the era of this woman. I'm that girl who is taking it all in, listening, but also observing everything about you. Then determine what position you play in my life. As she carried on, I wondered about her life experience, the trips around the world, and, not noticing a ring on her finger, did she have a man in her life? I am sure, a handful because she is a sex goddess. Starr was very vague, not mentioning anyone other than her mom. Me, being nosy, decided to dive in and dig for some dirt. I blurted, "So, are you married or dating an exceptional man at this time?" Then, the flight attendant abruptly interrupted by asking, "Would you ladies care for another glass of wine?" I, being the corporate drinker, after work, that looks forward to happy hour, responded, "Yes. I would love another." However, Starr Love decided, "I can't, I'm already giddy for the Gods, but I'd like a glass of water please." It was now two hours into our five-hour flight to California. I was tired but wanted to know more about the mystifying Starr Love. Did I seek to know the answer to my question? Why? Because I am nosy as hell, that is why. A fierce Segway, back into my questions about her love life, without being so obvious, I inquired, "Do you have any children?" Starr, I have two boys, adopted from past lovers, but none of my own. I've always felt like part of the village." Bingo, I thought, now I can get back to my original question by asking, "So you were married?" She reminisced, "No, just in love." "Damn," I thought, that's not telling my snooping ass anything. By this time, I noticed, the spirit of the Chardonnay had gotten to her, and she was feeling it. These damn entertainers cannot hold their liquor. Once again, I am a certified nip and sip girl, at the corporate meetings, watching the wine bottle go around the table while waiting for my turn, Betty Ford Diva. I was tipsy but still capable of reading a contract. She had slipped into another mode and flipped the question back to me. "So, are you married?" I suddenly remembered that I was dealing with a pro, an artist who is used to people prying into her business, and now she was going to give me the business. I countered, "Yeah, I'm married to myself; here is the ring I bought for me."We both started laughing hysterically, annoying everyone who was sleeping in first class. Then her drunk ass said, "Do you know you have little ears?" We fell out laughing again, silliness had crept into our conversation, and the energy of motion was in play. She abruptly stopped laughing and looked over at me very calmly, tilted her head and oozed, "No I'm not married. But I'll walk down the aisle with you." She flirted these words while staring at me, straight dead in my eyes. She had hesitated before she shifted her view back to the seat in front of her. Then she turned towards me again and then penetrated my soul with that smile, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. I thought, "Maybe this was for shock value," but something about her gaze was powerful. If I had to explain, 'It was wisdom, a journey of a million days on this earth, it was self-confidence and coolness on another level, and it was very, 'I could have you if I wanted you,' but without giving a clue to her sexuality or preference. It did not have a name or a gender, it was some new drama that I had never felt before, and believe me, I was feeling it. Hours had passed, and over the loudspeaker, the pilot announced that we were descending and landing in California in thirty minutes. I hurriedly washed my face with the baby wipes that are kept in my bag twenty-four-seven, and I questioned, should I wake Starr Love or not? She apparently did not hear the announcement. I was just going to chalk up our little conversation, and my little tingling sensation, blaming it all on the alcohol, and not think too much more about it. So, with a bed head whisper, I gently awakened her: "Starr Love, we're landing." Her eyes opened, and she stretched, went into her bag and grabbed her sunglasses, put them on and marveled in a soft, sexy voice, "Good morning, beautiful." Older women have confidence that younger chicks just do not have. They can say things that come off as very motherly, but also incredibly sensual. They can get away with it because they are grown-up. However, Starr had a way about her that was mature, but vigorous, almost as if her body and spirit hadn't encountered her wisdom yet. I took a private investigation course majoring in Dactyloscopy and the study of the criminal mind. I can analyze a bitch down to the ground, and I was reading her. We exited the plane, walked to baggage claim together, and there were two drivers with signs waiting. The name on one sign was 'Starr Love, ' and the other sign read, 'Julia La Fontaine. 'We were both traveling light, however, she had a couple of bags waiting in baggage claim that her driver put on the luggage cart. We then proceeded to the waiting limos. Before I could ask, she tapped her android with mine and said, I just sent you my cell and email information. It's a new app that my tech friend developed that allows me to do this." I replied,"I have one of those friends as well." As she walked away, Starr glanced back and added, Check and see if you got it. Goodbye, beautiful Julia." Under my breath, I dribbled, "Goodbye, Ms. Starr Love." As soon as I got into my town car, I checked, and sure enough, under the name Starr Love, I received her cell and email addy. Damn. I have to get that app. On my way to the rented house in Marina Del Rey, I could not help noticing how beautiful and clean Los Angeles was. Yes, I have been here many times, mostly on business trips, and at all times, I had a car service driving me from meeting to meeting. My idea of a vacation near a beach is usually Miami or Maui, but I love it here. My chauffeur talked too damn much. I longed for the days when they had a partition between you and the driver and you could rudely hit the thingy that raises the divider up and down. I had my mind on other things, but my driver was overflowing with opinions and full of inquiry. Like, "Why are you in Los Angeles? Where do you work? Who do you work for?" Questions that would typically cause an East Coast girl to go off in a New York minute. But I was in new territory, and I wanted to be cordial. My short answers should have been a hint. I eventually had to enlighten him, "I'm meditating!" This caused me to have to keep my eyes closed the entire way, but anything for a moment of peace! My rented house was a waterfront property with an ocean viewhow lucky was I? I felt free here in L.A, not so stressed and looking over my shoulder for a purse-snatcher or kicking a broken crack pipe from in front of my door. My plan to rent a jeep was a good one. I could ride around the town, up and down Malibu with cut off shorts, sunglasses, a halter-top and no one would ever know I just secured a high six-figure-a-year contract with one of the largest financial firms in the world. In Cali, I can be all of my personalities without them even knowing about each other. My bungalow is quaint but serene. The furniture is all white, and the house is overflowing with beautiful plants and flowers in bloom. It smelled like Nag Champa Incense, and the candle scent had the aroma of French vanilla. The cornucopia of fragrances reminded me of the corsage my date brought me for the prom. I was happy to see that the place looked exactly like the picture on Airbnb. Thank God, the description was accurateyou just never know when buying online. A girl was also pleased that the complimentary wine rack was full, with my favorite seasonal Beaujolais Nouveau, which was introduced to me years ago by one of my ET's (Extra Trade... 'A beautiful face'). It was popular because it had no sulfates. I also noticed that the house came complete with only white towels. I don't like anything with fabricated dyes, especially when it comes to coming in contact with my girly parts. She also provided me with an arsenal of baby wipes. The owner paid attention to my requests,I am going to write her a perfect review. Unwindingfrom the long trip, with the packing, planning and hardly any sleep on the flight, I was exhausted. I took off all of my clothes and bathed in the Jacuzzi tub. It felt so good and relaxing. The white terry cloth robe provided was plush. I poured a glass of Beaujolais and lay on the white sofa. I daydreamed while gazing out at the ocean,thinking abouteverything and everyone that I had leftbehind,and I thanked God for giving me a new life. I also thought about how I was alone in thisromantichouse, with no neighbors withinearshot. Before I knew it, I was pacing the floor. My mind began to travel as I walked towards the bedroom, unzipped my bag, searching for Maxwell's CD and my magic wand vibrator. I climbed in andpositionedmy body on the all-white bed with a goose down comforter adorning the high thread count sheets. I adjusted the speed, and for somereason,I wanted to deal with this matter slowly, not thetypicalrush job, where I felt guilty about it afterward, and threw the vibrator across the room in frustration. No, I wanted to enjoy every bit of this moment. Therefore, I set the speed to low. The humming of the motor began to turn me on as I tried to find the correct spot to touch down.My mind wandered, searching for an image to pull out of my subconscious mind. I needed a mental movie,a virtualstarto feature in it. Typically, I thought of men's cocksand most recently, the visuals of rap star "The Game" showing a selfie of the shape of his thick, hard member underneath his underwear. He has been my go-to buddy lately.The thought of "The Game" standing in front of me with all of that girth. Begging him to anoint my lips with his throbbing fathead,makes me want to ride in his old school, Chevy Impala, lowrider with hydraulics, slamming me up and down as my head bangs on the roof, ripping the headliner because he forgot to open the sunroof. I turned the speed up to high but was on the verge ofexplodingtoo fast. Therefore, I paused and slowed the pace down. Gathering my thoughts and focus, I zoomed back in and once again placed his cock in my mental spotlight. Nevertheless, myconcentration was soon distracted by life, bills, andenvisioning myself behind the desk atmy new job. So,I decided to pull his picture up on my cell phone for direct visuals. Now I'm holding my phonein my left hand and the magic wand in myright. I amfocusing on thatlargeprint and what his ghetto, prison ass would do to me in bed and the many surrendering positions that he would force me into.Yeahme,the Magnum Businessgraduateand my stuck upass, "Make mepay Game' for being the intellectual slut that I am." Suddenly, my body began to tremble, and I became transfixed, as my mindswitched gender lines. I was lured by the thought of Starr Love. Thinking abouther lips and the way that she looked at me. Flashing back, I imagined that she mouthed something, that could not be understood at that time. Searching for a reason to not deny my pussy pleasure any longer, dreaming it was the words, "I-will-fuck-you-down!" Roughly placed the vibrator on my protrudingwetness.And I swear, if Iweren'ta freak,Iwould thinkIwas gay because I camelikea lesbian. "Eds" COFFEE SHOP I awakened with anxious thoughts. I had exactly two weeks to find an apartment and be settled in before my furniture and car arrived. Plus, only forty-one more days before my new position started. I needed a place that was fierce and had an additional room for my clothes, shoes, and jewelry. It will also be nice if they accepted pets since Kung Foo is spending Christmas with me. I definitely did not want to squander it with him at my ex's house in New York. I decided to look in the area of all the places that Starr Love mentioned. I am sure she lived in a great neighborhood. So, I Goggled "Ed's coffee shop" and "Runyon Canyon Park" and found out they were located in the West Hollywood and Hollywood areas. I decided to check out the neighborhoods surrounding Santa Monica Boulevard first. I hired an agent who had given me a few addresses to drive by and view. My realtor described West Hollywood, as having a West Village vibe, but not as seedy. He said, "Honey, it is immaculate, one of the best areas in Los Angeles, and Gays run the city." I am a New York girl, and anywhere that the Queens live has to be fabulous and festive, so I was hoping to find a spot there. My budget was forty-five hundred dollars per month. In New York, depending on the neighborhood, this amount does not get you much, but here in Cali, I was hoping to find something sweet. I jumped in the jeep and drove to West Hollywood, and it was everything and more. I absolutely loved this area! Brides, if you are missing your groom, fathers if you cannot find your son, or if you want the DJ to be your baby daddy? You can find him here at one of the clubs. The boys are everywhere, they are coming out of the streets pores, girl! The markets were the cleanest and neatest I had ever encountered. There was a boy's club on every block, and the energy was fantastic. Here, I wouldn't miss New York much at all. It was like a baby New York with less crime, hell; even the police department hired openly gay officers. Now, in New York, those homophobic Irish police officers would call you a faggot in an N.Y.C, minute and beat you down. So this was innovative to me. I drove by Ed's Coffee Shop just to check it out. Okay, to be truthful, I stopped by, went in and sat down. Lo and behold, grits were on the menu. There was a lovely woman who came out to serve me. I ordered grits, egg whites, and turkey sausage, and could not contain myself, asking the waitress, who happened to be Ed's daughter, about the grits story. She confirmed it, "Oh yeah, Starr Love, the singer, requested it years ago with my father. He told her that if she brought a box in, he would prepare it for her, and then he put it on the menu." I inquired, "Have you seen her lately?" The daughter responded, "She usually calls once a week to see when I'm cooking split pea soup, and arrives on whatever that day is. Can I help you with something else?" I asked for the check. This conversation established two things: Starr Loves honesty and the fact that she knows what she likes because those damn grits were the best I ever had. I traveled all around looking damn cute in my jeep, and I got plenty of looks. In New York, it's all about getting from point A to point B and don't even look at me in the wintertime. I couldn't believe that here, they had legal marijuana spots on every corner and that these chicks right here were walking around with their asses out, but with Uggs on. Now, in New York, we take our seasons very seriously, and if anyone wore that on the train, the entire subway would have a meeting about it. I drove up every canyon road, cruised down every boulevard, over all the hills, and I finally found an available rental spot that I loved on Kings Road, in West Hollywood. It had high cathedral ceilings, hardwood floors, a fireplace, a panoramic view of the surrounding city, two bedrooms, a large balcony, and was very dog-friendly. The lease was for thirty-nine- hundred dollars per month and, get this, it had an underground garage. Chylde. In New York, this building would be ten thousand dollars per month, easily. Therefore, I guess I did well. It is now mid-month, but the place is vacant. They are willing to prorate the rent so that I can move in immediately and not have to wait until the first of the month. It is located on the third floor, which is the highest level, and it is impressively described as, the 'Suite,' which is sweet for a girl like me who loves to feel royal. This all falls right into my plan, saving and getting the hell out of this financial business as soon as possible. I do not want to own or have anything that holds me down when I am ready to set it off and put my plan into action. One thing I have learned is that money is money, not happiness. Happy is happy, and that is what I want to be in this world. My move in day could not have come fast enough. I most def enjoyed the view from the beach, but that gets old when you are a city girl. The thought of tidal waves and tsunamis does enter your mind when you are close to the edge of the universe, like the ocean. We have no control over it. These things enter your psyche when you are looking out into the damn sea. The movers are already at my new spot, and they are waiting for me. I am late because I have to learn how to maneuver L.A. traffic. While on my way, the car transporters called. They had arrived early and wanted to know where to deliver my car. Apparently, there are certain streets that their truck cannot enter; West Hollywood had many rules. I decided to ask them to store it at their facility until tomorrow, where I would personally go and pick it up. I had arrived on Kings Road, the moving truck was here, and I directed them to place all of my valuable antiques in their proper places. At some point, I have to go and purchase a new sofa and bed, but for now, Diva is sleeping on the floor, wrapped up in blankets at my new home tonight. On my way up the elevator with a heavy box of shoes looking like a moving mess, I hear a voice say, "Julia, is that you?" I turned around, and it was Starr Love. Now typically, when you run into another woman, and you're moving, you don't give a damn about whatcha looking like. But it was similar to me running into one of my exes, you want to look fabulous when you see them because you want him or her to witness what they're missing. I said "Starr Love, how are you?" and immediately began making excuses for my appearance. She remarked, "No worries, you look great!" I had to chime in, "Girl, this old thing, I just threw it on to move." She responded, "You're moving here, in this building?" I answered, "Yes, I just rented the 'Suite' here, on the third-floor, girl." Starr announced, "They are all 'suites,' darling, I live on the second floor." Okay, page number sixty-seven, chapter eight, in the problem-solving manual, The first rule is, it's not a problem unless you can't find a solution. First, deal with the real issue that is before you. Once the actual underlying issue is pinpointed, then the solving of said problem is inevitable. It was surprising that I ran into Starr Love. Dammit, I just masturbated to this woman, which meant that I wasnt questioning my sexuality, but I was most certainly turned on by her... Solution: get it out of my system, it's too close for comfort, don't work where you eat, find a man fast. Solution found. I immediately hopped on to Match.com and renewed my subscription. The ad read 'Professional woman, new to Los Angeles, seeks an educated, handsome man for fun. Must be financially secure, Ethnicity: white. Age 35-48.' Problem pinpointed and solved. Okay, now that part of my life was moving forward, what are the chances that I run into Starr Love in the elevator? On top of that, live in the same apartment building. Okay, I was tripping, I needed to slap myself and deal with this like the grown ass woman that I am. Am I infatuated, a crush or what? Girl, that woman is not thinking about me, let me carry on and continue my move and open a bottle of red to celebrate. I was thankful for this move. The stillness of the morning, that time when your eyes are slowly opening, and you realize that your head rag has found a home on the floor next to your bed, reminded me that I only had two more weeks before my new position began. I quickly dressed, returned my rental jeep and booked an Uber to take me to pick up my Ferrari. Afterward, I immediately went to one of the many L.A, car washes and had my ride waxed. Now feeling like an official California girl, I drove down Hollywood Boulevard enjoying this beautiful weather. I approached my garage, pulled out my remote to open the gate, and a green Jaguar pulled up behind me. Checking my rearview mirror, it was Starr Love. I had to get used to seeing her often. After all, we were living in the same building now, bonafide neighbors. She pulled into her parking spot, I parked in mine, we both exited at the same time. I said, "Hey girl." She replied, "Nice car, I love it." Revealing, "It was a graduation gift from my mother." She said, "Wonderful mother, my mom spoiled me as well, so I do understand, you deserve it. I am in Suite 2A, feel free to drop by. Is there anything you need?" "No, I replied, "I'm unpacking and ordering take-out, it will be a while before I eat a good meal. Where is a good place to purchase a man, I mean a bed?" She laughed, "There are some great places, why don't you let me show you around. I'll take you to Silverlake to check out some furniture stores and antiques." I responded, "Wow, that's right up my alley, maybe this weekend?" Starr agreed, "That's perfect, I have a few radio interviews this week, after that, I will make sure to clear my schedule for you. Also, when you are situated, I would love to prepare your first home cooked meal. Is that a deal?" I happily replied, "Absolutely." She went into the elevator; I lurked behind because of the bags in my trunk. Once in the house, I opened a bottle of Beaujolais and thought to myself, "Is she hitting on me or am I tripping?" I guess if I were totally straight, I would not even be thinking this way because it would not be an option. So I was just treating this thing like two straight women hanging out. However, she looked fabulous jumping out of that Jaguar, jeans tucked into her boots and bosoms everywhere. Her hair was hot, very wild, but the best thing about her was that damn moxie. It was giving me unaffected feelings, a demeanor that I loved in a world where women are so self-conscious and insecure about their age, weight, and overall look. She was walking around like, Hey world, I don't give a Damn. And in my Larry Blackman voice, I blurted out, "She's Strange," and I just happen to love it! " The wine kicked in, and I started thinking about what I would wear this weekend. After all, we were just two women hanging out, right? However, a girl still wants to look cute. My focus tonight was unpacking and organizing my clothes so that I will have choices. My phone was buzzing, which meant I had a message, but where did I put my phone? I had to talk to my Bro friend about inventing an app so I can find my damn phoneoh, here it is. It was a message from Match.com. I had a 'Like.' Blah, I really do not want to do this. Most of these guys were losers looking for a Suga Mama. I couldn't. At least, not tonight. I got my music all hooked up, ran my bath water, lit a candle and put on some Marvin Gaye. Marvin had a way of putting lust and love into perspective, with or without metaphors. One must actually listen to his lyrics and break them down to truly understand what this brother is saying. "You're All I Need To Get By." Organizing my closet took most of the week. I have accumulated a lot of stuff throughout the years, but I'm not getting rid of any of it because the style will come back around again. Like those "Maude Frizon" ankle boots, I got rid of... Wow, it was painful. I ordered Chinese food and made a special bed for myself on the floor, and got all wrapped up in my comforter. So far, Los Angeles had been good to me. It felt nice to have met a friend here. I decided to roll with the flow and not question or have any expectations. I was just going to enjoy the beginning of the next chapter of my life that was already predestined for me. I allowed the music to play in my head as I sang myself to sleep. I knew it was coming, so why was I not prepared? Starr Love was my date for today. It was finally Saturday, I decided to wear something comfortable, but sexy. I wanted to portray a fun, come-hither vibe with my look today. Starr sent me a text and told me to meet her downstairs at noon, near my car, because I was driving today. Later I discovered that this was the first of the many demands and tests. I obeyed her. This gave me two more hours to chill and meditate. I was excited about checking out Silverlake. I'd heard so much about the area; it might be a potential hang out spot for me. Promptly at noon, we met downstairs, trying to portray an air of calm and coolness as I approached her. Starr smiled as I lunged forward for a friendly hug. That woman was looking ridiculously 'Hawt.' Starr said that she was excited and could not wait to be in the passenger seat of my car, and explained that she had often thought of purchasing a Ferrari. She expressed this while I drove sixty-five miles per hour in a thirty-five mph zone. I purposefully went around the curves fast to hear her scream. Laughing our asses off, we first stopped at Eds coffee shop to eat. We both ordered the hash browns, lox, and grits. She then pulled out a bottle of champagne and a corkscrew. We ordered orange juice and were lit up on mimosas. Our humor seemed to mesh because we found the same things funny. When finished eating and were about to leave, my misstep made us both aware that I was in no condition to drive. Therefore, we left the car with the valet across the street and ordered an Uber to be our chauffeur for the rest of the day. He drove to sunset and headed east to Silverlake. We stopped at a few vintage stores, tried on clothes, and repeated this a few times on the way to search for furniture. I came across a beautiful antique bed frame that I fell in love with. Starr Love agreed that the frame structure was gorgeous, and she helped me negotiate the price. She also called a friend of hers who sells mattresses, and he is going to deliver a pillow top to me later tonight. We stopped at a few estate sales, and I bought a beautiful, plush couch at an auction that will be delivered to me next week. So far, I had made out good and the day was still young. We loaded that Uber SUV, up with great finds. Hungry again, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant that she loves called "El Chavo." They made the best damn margaritas and corn tamales. This place was very authenticthey had a Mexican quartet serenading for tips, and did I say the margaritas are kick ass? This Betty Ford Diva could barely stand. I started dancing for the customers while Starr urged me on. Now if I was drunk, you know Starr Love was because Ms.Thang cannot hold her liquor like me, and I was toasted. Drinking made us hilarious. We were almost about to salsa on the table together when the owner, a short Mexican man, came over and told us to calm the hell down, it was a family restaurant. We both said okay and then laughed in his facenot on purpose, but your girls were smashed. Leaving his establishment, led us to the parking area, where we gazed at the full moon before deciding to head back to West Hollywood. Going dancing with the boys was on or agenda, but Starr decided to take a detour. She asked the driver to go up to Santa Monica Boulevard and make a quick stop. At 7733, Santa Monica Boulevard, the name of the place was "The Pleasure Chest." She directed him to the back of the location where there was a private entrance for celebrities. Stating to me, "I need to buy some things, do you want to wait or come in?" I now recognized that this was an adult sex shop. Briefly wondering about my up-and-coming position, I usually would never enter a place like this. I buy my toys, condoms and everything else on "Adam-and-Eve.com." Then my doorman delivers the box to me without realizing he is holding a "Ron Jeremy," plastic, replica cock in his hand. Not wanting to appear fearful, I put on my big girl panties and joined her. Let us just blame it on the alcohol and pray that they don't have cameras. Besides, it's just girls having fun, right? Starr held my hand as we exited the car and entered the pleasure chest. We immediately penetrated the back section, where they had many interesting items. I picked up a dildo and put it next to my ear and asked her, "Now, are my ears still too little?" We were very silly. I started walking around and she somewhat just laid back in the cut and watched me gravitate towards different items. I peeped her method of operation. I decided to show her the scope of my kinkiness, I picked up an arm restraint, and looked at the package, checking out the quality of the item. Then I tried on several patent leather masks and collars. We both played around with the blow-up dolls and gave them pet names. Hers was Laqueesha; mine was, of course, Becky. Starr Love was quietly observing me at this point in a very matter of fact way, no jokes, just watching my every move. She then walked to the center aisle, picked up a few things and took them to the counter. Being nosy, I wanted to see what girlfriend was buying, so I trotted over. She purchased two pairs of black patent leather gloves and a package of black latex gloves and some condoms. I joked, "You really have a thing for gloves, don't you?" In a hushed tone, she replied, "I love them." I thought to myself, "what did she just say?'I love them?" There goes that mystery shit again. My inebriated, Harlem ass has had enough with it, I blurted out, "I LOVE THEM, WHAT DO YOU DO WITH THEM?" She laughed and purred, "I don't do anything with them, you will!" Then she started laughing. I didn't know if that was a joke or if I was the joke. Is she playing, serious, or what? And what possibly could I do with latex gloves, give myself a relaxer? On the way home, we laughed our butts off. I hadn't had this much fun in years, and she persistently held my hand. I liked it; I thought it was sweet and loving. She was not forward, just cool, calm, and sexy about it. I am not used to people being uninhibited. White, uptight people who are judgmental have surrounded me. I was breathing fresh air with this woman, I forgot about the fact that she was an entertainer. In my profession, most artists and rappers were full of nonsense and folly, and they made a lot of money and threw it away. They were the best clients a financial person could ever have. I was now looking at her differently, and this woman is intoxicating as fuck. I was escaping and learning from Starr Love that what trumps age and ethnicity, is the sexiest thing a woman can be, is 'self-assured.' We were bonding on a very special level other than a typical crush; we were exploring the t-word, trust. As she held my hand, she asked, "Why aren't you married? I heard you mention your ex-boyfriend; I'm just wondering why a beautiful woman like you, with brains and beauty, hasn't had a man sweep you off of your lovely feet?" Pondering for a while, and then explaining, "You know, I don't take compliments well because I don't get them very often, especially from men, unless there is an expectation. Searching for a man like my grandfather has been my quest. He was unconditionally there for my grandmother working overtime to assure that she was provided for, and he loved her. My standards are that high, and I refuse to lower them for the sake of a party. Lonely is not my problem, and I do not mind being alone." Starr Love replied, "I do understand. You're looking for worthy?" I said, "Yeah, that's it, someone worthy of my love." I thought to myself (in my "Ricky Smiley" voice) "This is a grown ass woman right here." The Uber car dropped us off, and I invited Starr Love over to see my newly arranged closet while I waited for the delivery truck. She agreed, "Let me go and check on my mother, and I'll come up for a short while." Strolling to my suite, threw on my jean shorts and a tee shirt, and relaxed, I then decided to open up a bottle of Chateau Margaux 2009, my favorite, and I began checking out some of my purchases. Starr tapped on the door. I met her arrival with a knowing glance and a casual hello. She looked around in awe of how much I had accomplished. "Your place is charming," she said, "That Art Deco lounge you have over there is lovely." I enthusiastically acknowledged, "Thank you, I bought it at an estate sale in New Jersey from an old Jewish lady. I'd say it was probably from the late 1920s." Starr described it perfectly, "It reminds me of a 'Le Corbusier' chaise. If it is, It's a collector's item." I gloated. "Absolutely, that is exactly what it is. You know your stuff, don't you?" I poured her a glass of wine - with the label facing my beautiful guest, of course, and she accepted. We chatted for a bit longer and finished both bottles before she asked, "Okay, so let me see this closet of yours?" She grabbed her purse, I stated, "Girl, ain't nobody gonna steal your pocketbook. We laughed and then dashed into my boutique de mode, which looks like a small department store. She screamed, "Do you accept credit cards?" We laughed, and we then began trying on outfits in my closet for at least an hour. We had a mock photo session. I was the photographer for a while and then she became a professional cinematographer, arranging the furniture around me and then placing pairs of Manolo's near my feet and the flowers in the vase close to my face. She began to posture my body, getting me ready for the Starr Love movie. Placing me into unusual positions. She asserted her authority by commanding me to, "Come closer to her." Complimenting, "Your legs are so fabulous, you have-amazing-long legs, girl. All night I have been trying to imagine what lies beyond them." Starr fell into a light trance while admiring and then she gathered her thoughts, "Anyway, they are perfect for the leading role in my motion picture, starring you. Darling, I am your director, Starr went on to say, "Please sit in the chair," I sat down like a supermodel would have, in the most beautiful chair that I had purchased from a nameless celebrity's estate sale. Snapping pictures like a Polaroid camera, she began directing, "Yessssss, work it, work it. Now lay your hand on your left leg, perfect, slowly, place your other hand on your right leg and spread those thighs for me." Her tone and facial expression began to change; I obeyed and followed her lead. Slightly unbolting the stretch limousine of my anatomy called legs, Starr, was aroused but this made it intensify, and then the demands came fiercely. Starr Love: "No! More, open them as far and as wide as you can, I want to capture the depth of your love, baby." At this point, so caught up in the moment, I surrendered and unlocked. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of black latex gloves, handed them to me, She said, "Here, this is for you, love." I graciously accepted, "Well, thank you." Then I questioned, "What should I do with them?" Starr Love: Slide them on your hands. So, I teased her by seductively dressing one finger at a time. I wanted to make it sexually graphic and obscene for her, as I fulfilled her voyeur desires, with my episode of glove porn. After the first shiny black glove had gone on, she stopped me and said, "One is enough, yes, don't move, I want to capture this moment. She snapped a picture. With one hand dipped in black liquid, Starr stopped, stood transfixed, looking deeply into my eyes and whispered, "Julia, you, my darling, are so worthy of me taking you." I lost myself when she said that, overcome with an extreme flow of wetness. I frantically began taking off my shorts, Starr abruptly stopping me, "No! Keep them on. Then she oozed game from that beautiful mouth, by saying, "If I were your man, a day would not pass without you hearing from me just how sexy you are." I glanced away, momentarily, and when my eyes returned, she was so close to my lips without kissing me that I could taste her breath. She breathed, "Julia, look at me." I did, and it was hypnotic. Her facial expression turned me the fuck on. She was on another planet, and I wanted a rocket ship to take me there. She whispered, "Slowly pull your pants down for me" I willingly began to take them off like a professional; slutdom had snuck in. Once removed, and lying on the floor, Starr Love demanded, "Now gently spank that pussy for me, I want to watch you..." By this time, I had met her on Pluto. Therefore, I complied and, slowly began chastising my feline companion, nicknamed 'Kitty,' while she directed me in my sex scene, "Spank it until it gets wet and voluptuous, I like it like that. Let's see how sticky you can make that black latex glove get." Starr, looking so feminine but serving aggression, began to caress me with assurance. "It's okay, baby, this is our private world that we are creating, you are safe here with me, no one has to know," The more I spanked, the juicier the glove became. I made a mess of that black latex. Her face was in an ecstasy that I have never witnessed. Then she invited me to come closer. That glove was now dripping like a leaky faucet. Starr got on her knees like an obsessed 'Fan' and passionately kissed and tasted every finger until there was no more. Don't call the cops because that bitch made the evidence disappear." Watching her in such a vulnerable state weakened me. I cried out, "Ooh baby, please take it!" Then she begged, "Julia kiss me, bite my lips, suck my tongue and love me." All of her demands were coming so fast, that the moment was sexually crazed. I licked those lips like apple candy and then drove my tongue all the way down that woman's throat. The kiss was so good that it ended all of my inhibitions and made everything all right with the world. It was a deeper love, and it soulfully hit my sweet spot, I exploded... POW! Exhausted, worn out, I had nothing else to give. However, Diva was not finished. My body was soaking wet, and girlfriend wanted to ride. Starr's voluptuous body slithered on top of mine, opened my inner thighs, she seized control and pushed my legs behind my head. I did not disappoint, I pointed those toes. I began to feed on the nectar in her breast. "Suck it harder," she demanded. Flesh to flesh, flower to flower, same day delivery... The road was so slippery that we both crashed. It was the closest feeling to heaven that I have ever known. After we had gathered ourselves, we cuddled, laughed and chatted about our lovemaking scene. Starr asked me, "What can I do to make it better?" I whispered, "In a thousand years, I will find an answer for you, but for now, you took the life out of me." We fell asleep on the floor only to be awakened by the buzzer from the deliveryman bringing the mattress. We jumped up from a deep, hard, nap. On her way out of the door, Starr Love said, "I'm leaving town tomorrow for two weeks, I have to perform on the road, would you mind if I kept in touch?" I said, "Absolutely, call me on my hotline anytime!" She blew me a kiss, opened the door for the delivery person, and went to Suite 2A. After my bed had been assembled,, tucked with 'Dreamsacks' seamless silk sheets, and I had fluffed the comforter, I lay on my pillow bed and the melody from the group "The Moments," "Sexy Mama" came to mind. "I Better Pinch Myself To Make Sure I'm Not Dreaming, Because I feel like Screaming." SAY MY NAME, JULIA LA FONTAINE I finally begin my new position today. Pleased, that I negotiated a car service into my contract because it would look incredibly pretentious driving my Ferrari to work on the first day. My driver, Mark, was a handsome young guy, but I had to reprimand him because it was very annoying that he was texting while driving. "This will have to cease while you're driving me." I barked. He was apologetic, and we continued our roll. I decided to be monochromatic today, wearing all black because I wanted to look powerfully convincing. I set the tone in motion with the bag, a beautiful, non-descript, Argentina leathered handbag this will get the "Chanel" purse girls confused when I am offered more compliments than they do, a black "Marc Jacobs" pencil skirt suit with "La Perla" lingerie and stockings underneath. Oops, I forgot...and Giuseppe Zanotti embellished suede pumps. I am on fire! I arrived, greeted by an all-white ensemble, of men, waiting to view and meet their latest acquisition. I had already decided I am not kissing any ass, strictly business. The unapologetic queen of spades had entered the building. My education speaks for itself. That is why my mama paid for it. Once they figured out I was a black face, their expressions were priceless. They quickly ushered me into my new office, introduced me to my new secretary, and decided to bring folks into my matrix to view, I mean meet me. My secretary (who I will soon replace because of her personal style, it conflicts with my fashion religion), made me aware of a meeting in one hour. I immediately put in a request for only distilled water, at all times, instead of the spring water that was in my officeI have no idea what spring it came from. Please order another desk because this one is new, I prefer an antique, Also, change my nameplate on my desk and on the front of my door because my name is spelled incorrectly. My name is Julia La Fontaine, and I am off and running. After six meetings, one board assembly, a lunch gathering, nine conference calls and a quick 'Read,' following a sexual advance (I'm not new to this), I survived my first day and damn, I was tired. Then my ex, he just called me regarding Kung Fu, who needed his tooth pulled because it was loose and he was unable to eat. I thought to myself, "Handle it, dude." This is one of the reasons why he and I are not togetherhe was a successful businessman but has analysis paralysis when it came to small details like, 'what restaurant to go to? or, I can't make a decision about what to wear.' I found myself being the gentleman in the relationship and it turned me off. I should have brought Kung Fu with me. During Christmas, I will come up with a reason not to send him back to Mr. Cope-less. I don't like to play games with myself. I do not lie to me. I deal with the real, and the reality was, 'Starr has been on my mind all day.' Usually, women go for Lesbian 101, the first lesson in the handbook, which is, they immediately want to 'oral sex' you. I mean, at some point it is just a matter of who does it better, right? I actually must admit that cunnilingus just does not do it for me all the time. I got bored with it fifteen years ago. Being a complicated woman, not a typical man, it takes a while to learn my body and find all of the neatly tucked away 'trigger spots.' I'm past that teenager stagemy best orgasm is really mental. Most of the time, I am usually just lying there, finding it difficult to concentrate. Hence, I fake an orgasm. Because I may not really know you, so a possible serial killer comes to mind. I'm afraid to close my eyes, or I don't feel like going through the motions or the drama of giving out instructions. "DIVA Get "SCOUT." It tells you the directions, what time we are going to meet up and it even provides you with the shortcuts. Is there an elevation to the lesbian game? Starr Love was showing me the distance from the ground, and just how high I could go. Damn, I usually go for age equivalent and white. I couldn't believe that her maturity or race was not an issue for me. I didn't even think about it, probably because she was so secure and unaffected by it herself. But the best part of all was more than the physical; we were drawn together by our humor and intellect. Now, that is what I had been missing in my past affairs: with someone that I enjoyed spending quality time. Should I text her and say, " Hey, just checking on you, be safe?" NO, that is annoying and boring. Maybe I should call her and speak, softly... Nope! That seems desperate and shot -out. I know, I will send her a message on her Facebook... Nah! That reeked of a fanatic. I'm just going to be cool and wait for her to call, text, or email me. Yeah, that's it, I am worthy, baby! On the way home from work, I needed to stop at "Trader Joes and pick up a few packages of that Cajun Salmon and throw it on the George Foreman grill. I was too tired to cook properly. I had my driver drop me off while I briefly ran in and made this quick purchase. By the time I reached the register, I had almost two hundred dollars worth of groceries. The words fast, budget and Trader Joes do not go together. While I was in the line, waiting for the sweet elderly woman in front of me, who could not remember her E.B.T pin code, I turned around and wondered who this fine, ass man standing behind me is? I questioned, "Is he gay?" I mean, we were in West Hollywood. I peeped that there was no wedding band on that ring finger. He was a six-foot-four, stocky, ball player type. Oh, wait a minute, someone just said, "Man that was a great pass you threw against the Bucks... And then some more mumbo jumbo football stuff. Okay, his name was Frank Cheesio, a quarterback. Now all the men are acting like little girls and asking for his autograph. I waited until they disbanded and then glanced in his direction. Our eyes met, and he said to me, "I've been watching you since you walked through the door. I didn't want to be forward, my name is Frank, will you have dinner with me one evening, soon?" I responded, "Well, that was bold. How do you know I'm not married?" His reply was cute: "I have been watching you, taking note of your driverif I were your husband, I'd be your driver. Also,, observing your very naked ring finger, and the groceries that you are buying are for a single woman, like those carrot muffins," He continued, "Let me make it easier. I'll give you my email address and, if you're interested, email me." I giggled because he brought the Cinderella out that was hidden inside of me, and replied, "That, my friend, is fair." Finally, at the counter to pay for my groceries, he handed the cashier his debit card. I thought, " Impressive." I thanked him and strolled out, fiercely. When I returned home, to my surprise, at last, my couch was being delivered, the one that I purchased at the estate sale. You know, the one that should have been here a couple of weeks ago. I had not heard a word from Starr Love! I wondered, is this normal for her? After I had poured myself a glass of wine, I began to drink and think, "Did she play me like a dude or one of her fans? Because I am not! The pink inside of me began to show. I wasnt 'infatuated' or anything, but had she just planned to use and treat me like one of her acquired men or women that she met on the road? Because I am not, a notch on anyone's Vintage Kieselstein-Cord belt, buckle! And why the hell am I getting caught up in my feelings for a chick? After I had calmed down, I began to analyze, because that is what I do best. I thought that women are so emotional and that the connection between us, even if it is just platonic, can become almost sacred. Sex is secondary! This had everything to do with my emotions! Maybe I was missing my mother. I will call her tomorrow. I put on the song, "Stevie Wonder's, Rocketship Love," and had a pity party, singing myself to sleep... The sound of my cell, buzzing, letting me know that I had a message, awakened me. The text message read, "Hello, Julia, I lost my cell phone in Washington D.C, it was finally found. I am now in Miami and just received it via Fed Ex this morning. Thinking of you and all of your divineness. Worthy, you are to me, my darling. See you soon, Starr. I thought how ridiculous am I? Then I smiled, jumped up and prepared all of my 'Divineness' for work. Oh, I forgot! Before receiving Starr's message, I sent Frank (the Trader Joes football guy) an email accepting his invitation. We planned to meet at Vibrato Grill, Herb Alberts jazz club on Saturday at seven P.M. On my way to work that day, I asked my driver Mark to turn to a classical station, because I just wanted to relax, listen to Beethoven, and not think. Too many, damn, emotions. THE HAPPINESS PLAN My new position was really everything I had ever wanted, but, cease talking about it much because of a privacy clause. I must say my plan is in motion, to liquidate my assets in the next ten years and begin my journey to happiness. I felt like I was evolving, definitely going through a period of self-discovery, realizing that there is something to be said about a good solid plan early in your life. The thing about this is that when you prepare yourself to execute said plan, you put yourself in a position to control your own destiny. You are not afraid of failure because there is no failure. You have redefined success when you have a "Happiness plan. No one can fire you because they never hired you. Your energy, focus and your intuition got you into that position. If you are let go, it is just the Universe's way of telling you that it is time to move on. Sometimes we need to be shocked by the universe because we linger and refuse to recognize the tell,-tale signs. This is when we become broken-hearted and stranded because we did not listen. However, if you look back, not every relationship you have lost is a loss. That heartbreak that I had over Clifton, who chose the girl who was giving it up and left me, crying in my room listening to "I Miss You" by the Dells for a month... He now has a hereditary bald spot, four kids, and three baby mamas and has developed an itchy case of eczema. Now independently there is nothing wrong with this, but all together, it is a bit much. He was merely not the one for me. The divine Universe tried to warn me when he was caught cheating, but I continued to give him a pass. Remember, girl, when he accidentally slapped you one dayyou overlooked that sign, didn't you? However, if you had a plan, you never would have allowed that shit to happen in the first place, and it certainly would not have happened twice. Oh, and about that island you were stranded on. Somehow, you got off it, right? By yourself and now, you're on solid ground. And it will repeatedly happen, this is the circle of life. If you learn to depend on yourself "The winner get's prize." During my Voyage, to me. I had connected with two new vessels, Starr Love and now Frank Cheesio. I am not sure what part they will play in my journey. The outcome could possibly be a shipwreck, a sunken yacht, or my desire... 'A place to dock my ship. The beautiful thing is that I have accepted these two into my life without any limitations or restrictions. Just allowing them to be, whatever they are meant to be at this moment. I am ready for the lesson. Low back, short black dress, bare legs, sling-back black Manolos, a vintage, Vivienne Westwood, leopard, print clutch and Princess Shu Uemura lashes, for dinner tonight with Frank. I thought about Starr on my way to dinner. We do have a connection, but it could just be what it is, no questions asked, and no expectations. I put it all in a neat compartment and continued driving because I was late. Frank only had to wait an additional fifteen minutes for me. When I arrived, he was standing near the front entrance with an attitude. Yes, I was late, but it is not a good sign to be complaining about it so early in the game. Suck it up, big boy, and compliment my Ferrari, which he never did. Nor did he compliment me. Now I'm paying attention to the signs. I guess the Frank that I met at Trader Joes was his representative. The paparazzi were everywhere, and Frank insisted that we take pictures together. He was unexpectedly affectionate while taking photos on our first date, I thought. We don't go together, yet. He looked very handsome, wearing a black dinner jacket and a very tight fitted pant. My eyes focused on his package because the box was enormous. I did not desire it... yet, just focused because it was obviously in my face. Frank was cordial, but quarterback arrogant. I noticed that his center of attention was on my breasts the entire night, and his mind was constructing an offensive play on how he could attain them. I thought dammit, what happened to the men who wants to find a decent, intelligent woman and date them without requiring sex first? Does that exist anymore? I mean, dude is obviously not separating me from the ordinary woman. Once again, do they know that there are levels to this game? Or do they just throw us all in one pile, because we are just mere feminine, mortals?" I had all of these questions, even before the band began playing. Later, he did squeeze out a couple of underhanded compliments. He said, "I love the way you applied your makeup, very natural, but next time you should be more dramatic for me, and the Cleopatra haircut is beautiful, but do you ever wear wigs?" I thought this was quite odd coming from a baby Hercules. Then I figured he has probably dated many models and want-to-be actresses, who will do anything to get his attention. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of them, yet. I ordered the Jumbo Lump crab cakes and a salad, passing on an appetizer. Oh, "And please bring me a flute of the house champagne." Gigantor began ordering, and I thought he would never stop. He ordered an appetizer, the Lobster Mac, and Cheese, then for an entree two petit filet mignon dinners well done, the Lump crab cakes, two sides of garlic whipped mashed potatoes and please bring warm bread NOW! After ordering his royal feast and spitting out his demands, Frank committed himself to five whiskey sours and downed two of them before the appetizer arrived. The dreadful part was that I had to watch him consume all of it and act like it was cool. Even though I was observing, I was still considering Frank for a twirl because he is freaking cute and his merchandise was not of the humdrum. We would see how the night goes. 'Twirl' meaning a possible second date, of course. Anyhoo, we were lucky, Chaka Khan was in the building and sat in with the band tonight. She was beautiful, lost a lot of weight and looked great. Regrettably, Frank didn't know who Chaka was. I failed to mention Frank was white. However, this is not an excusered, white, or blue, one should be aware of who Queen Chaka Khan is. This said a lot about Frank and his knowledge of the black culture, music, and me. I was ready to go. I am appalled, who doesn't know, Chaka, damn, Khan? Too many balls to the head, I thought, My cell was vibrating, I did not want to be rude and answer, but I wanted to know who was calling me. I turned my ear piece onit announces the name in Swahili, another great app. Ladies and gentleman, it was Starr Love. I didn't answer but had a strong desire to speak with this woman. I excused myself and went to the ladies room. Damn near almost dropping the phone in the toilet, I returned her call, though it went to voicemail. I hit redial, but she did not pick up. I left a message, "Hey, I'm at dinner, we will chat later, bye." Okay, I powdered my face, and now I was back to, 'I don't know who Chaka Khan is, tight pants, Frank, who was now drunk. I was glad that I made the decision to drive myself and meet him here. Pondering, 'Now if I just leave, is that so terrible? Then I concluded, 'Hey, there is no history with this guy, it's not feeling right. Therefore, if I just bounce, there will be no Karma attached to it... I'm out.' Your girl said, "Frank, I think that it's time for me to head home. My day was exhausting; I'll contact you in another life." His inebriated self-responded, "Listen, lady, I have a hundred women that wish they could be with me tonight, and you are" I interrupted him before things got ugly and replied, "And I won't be a hundred-and-one. Goodnight, Frank." I handed the ticket to the valet, he delivered my car, and I went on my way. What a waste of a beautiful dress. I checked my messages again, and Starr Love left a reply, "I'm home!" I pulled over and sent her a text message, "What are you doing? I'm on my way, should I stop and get a bottle of wine to celebrate your homecoming?" I waited five minutes for her response and she finally replied, "Make it two bottles." I knew my Ferrari was fast, but I had no idea it could fly. One thing was for sure; tonight I wanted to learn more about the mysterious Starr Love. I arrived home, parked my car, took the elevator to the third floor, put the key in the door, and began taking off my dress to get into something more comfortable. Thoughts, why should I change and let this beautiful dress go to waste? I wore it for football head. Why not wear it for someone far more superior in my life? Therefore, I kept my drag on, the entire ensemble for Starr Love. I texted Starr to come up whenever she was ready. I bought a bottle of white and red, "Marvin Gaye" was crooning in the background, "You Sure Love To Ball." Smoked Gouda cheese, pepper crackers, and grapes from Trader Joes were ready to snack on, I love the explosion to my palette. Then I heard the tap on the door, I answered, and Starr declared, "You look absolutely Gorgeous." She noticed the bare legs by saying, "And there go those beautiful long legs." She complimented my dress and gracefully took my lashes off when my eyes began to tear up from the glue. I thought, a girl just needs a little attention. We ate, drank, and sang, and both knew all the lyrics to Marvin Gaye's records. Starr teasingly asked, "What do you know about Marvin Gaye? You don't know anything about old school." I said, "Girl, I know all about old school, baby, that's all I listened to. My mother played Aretha Franklin records every time she had problems with her man. I grew up with, back in the day music, The Delfonics, Isaac Hayes, Sly Stone, The Dramatics, that's all I listen to. I connect to the lyrics. I can feel it." Starr laughed. I began to tell her about Frank and how uninteresting my evening was, and we chuckled about it. I mentioned his package and she wanted all the details. We talked about a white boys cock versus a brothers. I shared my experiences with men and Starr shared hers. She proclaimed, "I had my share girl, another one would just be, one more. She revealed, "I was married once when I was very young. It did not last long because I wanted a career more that a relationship. I understood my mission very early in life, it is music. Yes, I love men. I like what they represent when they embody itsecurity, protectionbut they scare me." I wanted to know more about her fear, "How does that scare you, babe?" "Well, first of all, being hurt by a man is far from my radar. I have been fortunate enough to do the picking and not standing on the sidelines waiting for someone to choose me. The protection of my heart is my only focus. Standing guard to my surroundings and the people that I bring into my life." She continued, "My pain comes from those closest to me, my friends and my family who don't understand me and want to kill my spirit. The fear from men originates from the unmasking, and the time it takes to learn who the truly are." People think because I'm an entertainer my life is powder puff, but I'm like most women my age. I have nursed and then buried my grandmother, and now, after taking my mother out of 'Miracle Milestone,' the care facility, she is now home with me. The circle of life continues. I share no sad stories and have no regrets, I am thankful for the good times. Let us toast to the sweeter things in life. Anything that has gone down with me has been a learning experience, and I have allowed myself to learn the lesson. Now pour me another drink, girlfriend." I was happy when the ever-so-elusive Starr Love slightly opened up to me. I thought, "This woman is blazing, totally not a part of the matrix. Out of the blue, Starr asked, "Do you take random drug tests at your job?" I said, "No, I'm an executive, baby." She responded, "Good," and broke out with a joint. She assured me, "It won't stay in your system long. By the time you get to work on Monday, there will be no trace." Now, I hadn't smoked Ganja in years, but being from Harlem, I can roll a blunt better than most. So why not? Besides, we were celebrating her making it back home from her travels safely. At this moment, I would go anywhere or do anything with this woman. We giggled at everything,her toes, my ears,we danced and ate everything we could find in the refrigerator. She concocted a peanut butter and Gouda cheese sandwich with Dijon mustard on a croissant and dared me to eat it. I won that bet. We then made graham cracker ice cream sandwiches. The weed, wine, and great laughter ultimately led us to the realm of no return. She suddenly asked, "Let me bathe you?" I stuttered, "Bathe as, as in a bathtub?" Starr laughed, "Yes, silly, let me run some warm water with oils, candles, let's take the wine into the bathroom and simply, let me bathe you. I'm not a man; I'm not going to poke you or anything." Giggling, I agreed and stated. "Okay, that was a weird statement you just made (the poke me thing), your ass is high," She said, "Yes, I am, now get your beautiful ass in the tub." Bathing me was an understatement. Starr nurtured my body. I must say, being single, it has been a long time since someone has washed my back. Not only did she bathe my entire body, but she massaged my neck as well. We smoked, and she poured wine into the tub for color and tested different oils on my body, smelling the diverse combinations until she found the perfect blend of Amber, Lemon, and Nag Champa. She used the loofah on the heels of my feet and kissed the top of my head. Starr was wearing a flowing pajama pant and a wife beater. I asked her to get in with me. She humored me and stepped in with all of her clothes on, straddling me from behind. I have one of those old-fashioned bathtubs. It was slightly bigger than most and had a strong, stream, water flow. As we lay in the tub, we talked, laughed and she slayed me in a rap contest,even though my rhymes were better, the girl had major flow. We turned on the hot water frequently, whenever the water began to chill. Our foolery eventually initiated sparks, when Starr began to breathe heavily on the nape of my neck. Her breathing was a faint, animalistic moan. I then felt her hands slide up and down the small of my back, and then slowly around my neck. Turned on, my breath became short, and my throbbing was self-explanatory. We were most definitely in concert with one another. She started sucking the back of my damp neck. Licking, biting and whispering love stories in my ear. "'OMG. What is happening?" Every time she bit me, I expressed pain, not loudly, but sweetly, alerting her to the reality that tenderness was in the air. This only made her hotter, whenever I would moan from her savageness. She asked, "Am I hurting you?" I whispered, "It feels a little strange, but I like it." Strange?" She repeated. "Strange is nice. The word 'STRANGE.' That will be your 'safe' word that will protect you from me devouring you. I don't want to hurt you; I want to make you feel love. That's owning you, Julia. I want to control everything about your beautiful self." Don't get me wrong, I loved this tender moment that Starr was sharing, but I masochistically wanted more of her torture. Starr then reached from behind me and turned the water on full blast, scooted me down towards the powerful stream. And with both hands accompanied by her polished, elegant, long fingers, she opened my legs as wide as she could get them to unchain. The water splashed all over my engorged "love-you-forever" spot, and she played with it. All of my alarms went off: fire, car, clock, and the loudest one of all, my love alarm. She excitedly rubbed her hands up and down the length of my wet, oiled legs. The stream was so strong that she pulled me back every so often to relieve me from the pressure. She talked to me quite sternly, berating me for going out on a date with Frank, Oh my goodness!" then she asked, "Do you think I'm sexy?" I could barely respond, "Yes," because I was so enthralled, then I let go, "Hell yes." Starr, eager to hear me cry out those words, requested, "Tell me more about Franks cock. "OMG," I explained, "It was so big, I could see the girth and the length through his trousers." Starr Love's trembling voice questioned, " Did you want to make it disappear inside of you?" I revealed, Yes! I did want it!" She demanded, Show me, let me see how you would make it vanish. Now, " Marvin Gaye was serenading in the background, and Starr began to sing in my ear, "Ooh baby please turn yourself around, Ahh baby so I can love you, Oh baby, baby I'll make you feel so good." As I began to visualize Franks print in those slacks, I started syrupily, tasting it for Starr. Then I crooned, "I had memorized it, storing the reflection of it in the back of my mind, to be used later in my private masturbation session. The length of it choked me, and the thought of placing my lips over a mouthful of a mushroom head was like eating a nectarine, sweet and sloppy. I had no doubt that it tasted like honey because he was too fine. Starr listened and could barely contain herself, revealing, "Julia, I want to share his sweetness with you." She beckoned me towards the flow of the streaming water and soon I was underneath Niagara Falls, pouncing on my sex. As she savagely sucked the color off of my neck, the stream was so intense, gushing directly inside of my open legs and hitting that spot, baby. Starr was whispering nasty fuck scenarios in my ear like an x-rated movie. Her sexy voice and the fantasies involving her, Frank, and I drove me to shut the party down early. I just could not hold on any longer. I surrendered, loudly, calling out to the GODD's (OH MY GODD, GODD DAMN, and GODD HELP ME) and my calls were answered. Thinking that I had nothing else to give, Starr escorted me out of the tub, dripping wet, and forced me to my knees onto the white, shag-carpeted bathroom floor, cruelly bent me over and proceeded to dine as if there was a banquet and she was shopping for groceries. My excitement brought her great pleasure. After feasting she proclaimed, "I did not know that I was starving until I tasted you." Then, my mind was blown. Our connection was on a higher level than I'd ever known. Starr Love was a metaphysical trade. I understood her position, and she taught me to appreciate mine. The night ended again with us both in a sexual comatose. I thought to myself, "Relinquishing control is what I need after a dominant day at work, submission is sometimes necessary. I can get used to this!" We never had that conversation about straight, gay, what she preferred or what I liked. We just naturally fell into place with one another. There were no expectations, just an authentic, sensual connection that cannot be defined, we just allowed ourselves to be. Good night. DESPERATION IS NOT A BEAUTIFUL PERFUME The car service was not on time picking me up this morning, and I was late for a meeting with my boss, the one from New York. The CEO of the company. I scolded my driver, Mark because this is not a good look. The company was restructuring and merging with another corporation, and it was imperative that I attend all meetings promptly to assist in the transaction details. Many changes were being made to our infrastructure. If I were interested in maintaining a long-term career with this firm, I would be concerned. However, my contract was secure for three years. If they decide to replace or change my position, my severance pay would be enormous, so merge on. I am perplexed because I do not remember telling Frank where I worked. In fact, I didn't, I am very private about that. Somehow, he found out because I had a large assortment of flowers, Casablancas, and white lilies, on my desk when I arrived. There was an explanatory note attached and two tickets to an upcoming Chaka Khan concert. He went on... "I would love to escort you; I would provide all of your needs for the evening. He signed it, Frank." I had meetings back to back today; I will deal with him later. My new desk arrived today. It was antique mahogany, and it was perfect. It represented me well. I am interviewing for a new assistant, and I must say I had a few excellent applicants. Leaning towards hiring a male secretary because I need a little testosterone energy to combat the heavily, driven, male, artillery, in this office. I must say, this company needed me for diversity because here, there was none. In a way, purpose had been placed on my shoulders, and I will represent well. During my break, I sent Starr a text, "Thank you for the delightful evening. I'm thinking about you. Lovingly, Strange." I also did some checking up on Ms. Starr Love. Voted one of the sexiest artists over fifty by the New York Weekly magazine; she is also an animal activist. Extremely talented and very private. I saw no scandals or mention of past relationships. In most of her interviews, she was eloquent and humble. I heard rumors about drugs. However, I had not seen any evidence of that, other than Ganja. There was no mention anywhere of her preferred sexuality, but I had my thoughts on that. She had no children and not many relatives other than her mother. Google is a mutha. On my way home, I had my driver go through Laurel Canyon. It is a long, winding shortcut away from the highway traffic and I wanted to see the homes that were nestled away. I noticed horse trails, small markets, and restaurants that I would like to check out this weekend. Yet again, I had to check Mark, because he was texting while driving. He apologized and promised to stop. I would give him one last chance before firing him. When I reached my destination, which was home, I thanked Mark, grabbed my belongings and headed up the elevator. To my surprise, there was a bag at my front door. I opened it, and what appeared to be Tupperware was full of food with a note attached, "Since you love crab cakes so much girlfriend, I prepared Crabcakes, Salmon, Croissant French Toast, Fried green tomatoes and a lovely salad for you to savor on for a few days. I am out of town for three weeks. Let's chat in depth when I return." Starr I thought great; I don't have to cook. I immediately heated up the Croissant French toast, which was amazing, and tasted the abundance of food that she left. Oh my, God, it's so good. I eventually became 'Piggly Wiggly' and ate most of what she had left in one sitting. "Three weeks," I said aloud. At that moment my cell rang, I had to dig to the bottom of my bag, searching for it, finally, finding it on the last ring. It was my mother. Hello mother, how are you?" She replied, "I'm well, baby, are you settled in?" "Yes," I responded, And I love my new place." She said, "Well, I didn't want to call you because it's so expensive to call way out there." Once again, affirming, "Mom, it's no additional money, I keep telling you that you are on my plan, and there is no cost to you. You can call me anytime you want. " She replied, "I know, I'm just trying to save money." Once more, "Mom, you're rich, remember the Brownstone money you have in the bank and the investments I made for you? You can call Africa twenty-four hours, a day, you are rich, mother." My mom's constant concern in life began, "When are you going to get married and have a grandbaby for me?" I explained, "Mom, I'm thirty-six years old, and a baby wasn't in the plan, but if a Stork comes soon, and drops a baby off, I'll let you know." She scolded, "Well you got to find a man first. You have to find one and train him, they don't come taught, ya know. Besides, God said you have to obey your husband, and you cannot honor one unless you are married to one. Who's going to take care of you when you grow old?" I, exasperated, "You are right mother, and I'll let you know when the next train or Greyhound bus full of wild monkey men drives by my area. I will grab one out and train him. Mom responded, "Okay, baby, well, I love you and find a good church." I simply ended it, " I love you, mom, I will. Goodnight, mother." And the curtains closed. There was that unrelenting bug injected into my psyche again, that as much as I have accomplished in my life, existence on this earth, will not be fulfilled unless I find and marry a man. This is the part that screws up my head every time I emotionally connect to a gender possibility that may not be male specified. Maybe mom was right. Happiness is evident when I am around Starr, but there is no future in that is it? I don't feel gay or confused, I am not attracted to every woman; I am drawn to that rare one, whether it is a man or a woman. What I feel is being harassed by society to choose. You see, this is what I go through after calls with my mom. Nothing but fuzziness. I do not want to disappoint my mother, who has supported and loved me the best she knows how. And according to her, I don't want to go to hell and burn. That sounds painful. Starr gave me freedom from this way of thinking. She provided a tantalizing hint of what could be. After speaking with my mother, I decided to give Frank # 33, San Francisco, Mustangs Quarterback, another shot. Besides, Starr is gone for three weeks, and there was no verbal commitment. That is not what I wanted for my future anyway. I needed to have a child and chill. Therefore, I sent Frank a text and said, "You are on for next week, but leave the other hundred women at home, please." He responded, "Okay, I will send a car for you, please text me your address." I thought that maybe my first impression of Frank was mistaken. Perhaps I judged him a little too harshly. Starr Love had emailed me a few times. However, I had not returned her messages. I thought the distance would separate some of the emotions, but I was wrong. I'm moving forward anyway. I had a week to get my mind right and prepare for what could possibly be my baby daddy. I was hanging out with Frank tonight to enjoy Chaka Khan. I dressed down, but appropriately for the evening, jeans, boots, and a beautiful silk blue vintage Versace blouse, no bra. I remembered the request from Frank, and I am giving him smokey eyes, lashes, and wilder hair. After all, this was a concert, and I wanted him to see that I was versatile. JUST CALL ME CLAUDIA The car that Frank sent showed up on time, and I arrived at the venue a little early. Frank was waiting outside of the place, surrounded by fans and, once again, the paparazzi. As soon as I exited the car, he approached me and kissed me dead on the lips. The paparazzi went crazy. Frank kept me near him while taking pictures and selfies with fans. When he stopped to give a fan an autograph, he handed me the tickets to hold. I noticed that Frank had comp tickets. I thought, 'For a man who doesn't know who Chaka Khan is, how did he get comps? Did he know her manager?" We finally went inside the concert building, escorted by security to our second row, center stage seats. Frank seemed to be more relaxed, a gentleman on his best behavior. I am not sure which Frank he was, but I liked it. Chaka was great as usual, and Frank and I danced a little. Damn, for a white boy, he's got rhythm, which means he could go deep and down low. After the concert, we decided to get some sushi at my favorite spot, Sushi Tango. We ordered sake with Sapporo chasers, and more drinks led to smooching. Because he so well behaved, I decided to invite him over. When we arrived at my apartment, we talked and laughed about many things, and I was enjoying getting to know Frank better. He mentioned his month-long media tour, which was his reason for being in town. I also found out that he was here spending time with his three children. He had been married twice. I admired the fact that he opened up and laid his life down on the goal line for me. Honesty is sexy. From my experiences, Sake and Sapporo usually led to hanky panky. This time was no different. I discovered by grabbing that we had something in common. I went to the 'Magnum' school of business, and he wore a 'Magnum' large size. I was the receiver, and I wanted that Quarterback. Eager to see the merchandise with my own eyes, Diva was not disappointed. Touchdown, god dammit. Frank was macho and yummy. I craved only two things. Because I'm a tight end, very cautious, I am not really into penetrating the in-zone on the first date. I only asked that he allowed me to watch him aggressively, control his massiveness like he's in command of that football. I want to see him beat the other team. The lotion was ready, and my voyeur boots were on. It's funny that Frank wanted the typical love on a two-way street, missionary position, he wanted romance. I wondered, how does one make love on the first date? This requires emotions, I was not seeking tenderness. If anything, the chokehold was on my menu. With all of his groupies and the hundred women mentioned, I thought he would be freaky, and I would be embarrassed by the lack thereof. He seemed lost with me. Then Frank began to talk, and he asked about my fantasies. I was loose as a goose after that sake so, I expressed my wildest desire, "I want you to be my girlfriend tonight. Let me put lipstick all over your lips and squeeze a pair of my La Perla panties over that huge mushroom head. Hashtag grind on the length, suck on the girth of it. Without question, Frank said, I like that, he was game. I bestowed upon him the title of "Claudia," and he loved it. Excitedly, I went into my closet and grabbed a few items, dressed him down and then I dressed up. I decided to be one of his football cheerleader's, pom-poms and all. Belittling him, by ordering him to worship and suck the heels of my worn, Ferragamo pumps. Then my personality transformed. Standing tall over him, looking down and asserting my power. I said, "I'm a Hollywood producer, I'm going to make you a star. I praised, "Claudia, "You are such a beautiful girl, that I might give you some pussy." Big boy was beside himself. Looking at him, lying there, with all of those muscles, giving the impression of being a drag queen, garnished with an incredible fat cock, took me places. I casually walked over to my specially designed Armoire, where my assortment of wigs live, and I let him choose the one he desired. His choice was blonde. So I gave him Monroe and let my skirt fly up often so that he could get a glimpse of my crotch-less panties. Tomorrow is my wax day, so if he didn't know who Chaka was, he knows now. A black woman, a backbone. Trying on several colors of lipsticks that Frank was quite receptive to wearing, I decided on "Cherries in the Snow." It's old school, but an effective brand. It's the type that Starr Love wears. I got on top of him and rode that bikini-wearing-bull while kissing the lipstick off of his slightly mustached mouth. It was so good. I don't think I've ever seen a body like that, nor a man named Claudia, with Revlon on his lips, orgasm so loudly. Frank was a different person from the one that I originally had a date with. This person was kind and considerate. He was, in my opinion, a missionary position lover, but most entertainers are not that sexually creative. They are accustomed to groupie-worship love, where they are not the featured performer they're the audience. But this boy is so fine, and the thought of what our babies would look like satisfied that resonant voice in my head, "Don't mess up my grand babies." These were the words that my grandmother and mother planted deep below my surface. Now, with the right water, oxygen, and his seed, "I can grow a handsome, baby, football player." I reconsideredhe is definitely worth the training. I decided Frank should stay with me for the remainder of the month while he was in town. He was a baby maker. 'The first couple of weeks were perfectI was clinging to those bride and groom vibes. I would work during the day, often bringing my daily grind home in the evenings, and on the weekends, I attended many of his football affairs with him. However, as the days went by, I began to notice his representative re-appearing. Frank was not generous in bed, any longer, he was not romantic at all, but that package had me hypnotized. I was able to maneuver and work it out. It almost appeared as if he wasn't even into the sex. I chalked it up to the steroids he was probably taking. You don't get a body like that from lifting a few pounds. I had not received a message from Starr in a while. I must admit I do miss her. I decided to Google Frank Cheerio, something that I should have done weeks ago. I was not comfortable with a few Google rumors. That is when the virus, 'Man-I-Tus, set in. You know that disease where, 'I don't want to hear anything negative about my man, that I'm In Denial personality.' One thing that I hate, about myself when I connect with a man, is that I go into an idiotic, protective mode for him. I began waking up early to apply makeup before he awakened. I don't sleep with my head rag on. Therefore, I have to blow dry and flat iron my hair early in the morning. I started watching him observe other women and tripping over it, giving other females shade when they came around. The they-may-steal-my-man' zone. And then judging other women, finding a fault and chuckling, hoping that he will see the humor in them as well. And the big one, when I know I have indeed caught 'Man-I-Tus,' is whenever I go shopping with my home girl, whatever she tries on looks better on me. Now that I had designed this dense male template, as far as I was concerned, Frank could do no wrong. They were just rumors until I viewed them for myself. His three kids by two baby mamas were mentioned, then that was as far as I could read before he entered the room with that girth in his hand. I went temporarily crack whore and wanted to hit that pipe. I would finish checking later. Frank and I had been hanging out together for about five weeks now. I really cannot say much about our conversations or sex life other than the fact that he began a ritual and wanted me to get fully beat with makeup before we slept together. Like total drag, lipstick, hair, facethe more over the top, the better. Forget about wrapping my hair at night. The most horrible experience was that he couldn't cum unless we were completely silent. Any noise made him lose his concentration, and we would have to start from the beginning. He would say, (in a dunce's voice) "Awe maaaan, you made me lose my concentration; I can't focus when you talk dirty." It was pretty fucked up, girl. Nevertheless, I thought that if we stayed together, I could train him. After a while, he did not seem to really want to go anywhere with me unless it was for his work. I found that odd. No park, movies, or dinner invitations, just red carpet events. When I worked he'd call me two or three times a day, holding the phone, saying absolutely nothing, I'd shout, "Frank, babe, I'm working." And he would always respond the same way, "Okay. Ring me when you are on your way home." I thought,Dumb ass! My job was taxing, long days, every hour filled with judgments and conclusions. They were making me work for the money. Thank God, my plan was still in motionI could not bear my new position if I did not have an exit strategy. Frank started doing disappearing acts, and his vibe was becoming a little funky, almost asshole-like. I began to hate the way he walked and despised the presence of his chiseled back while we lay in bed. It's funny when you're over somebody, everything they say and do annoys you. To be very honest, I wasnt connecting with him at all. Frank was toxic. Not to compare, but Starr was fun and exciting. Above all, we had intelligent, stimulating conversations. So I thought, what am I doing? Sometimes, happiness is right in your face, and I was overlooking it, because of what? I wasnt sure, but I needed to figure it out. That day, when I arrived home, Frank was drunk, and he told me a woman knocked on the door looking for me. Slurring his words he stated, "She said, she's looking for the lady of the house. I told her that I was your husband and lived here with you. Maybe she was a bill collector or something. So, I told her to go away." I shouted, "What? Who are you, to be rude to anyone that comes to my door?" He mentioned, "Her name was Love, something like that. I said, "Starr Love?" He replied, "Yeah, I guess, she had nice tits." I grabbed my cell and hurried downstairs to explain to Starr Love. She opened the door, and I went inside. This was the first time I had been inside her apartment. It was incredible. Her art, mainly nudes, were all over the walls. She had dark hardwood floors and a panoramic view of the city, much nicer than mine. I also met her mother for the first time. Starr appeared to take good care of her. She snapped, "Why didn't you tell me that you got married?" I nervously responded, "I'm not, that is Frank, Starr, the guy I told you about." Starr questioned, "Really, Julia, that fast you moved him in?" I tried to reason, "No, let me explain. My mother called me, and she said that I needed a man and a baby and I..." Starr immediately cut me off by saying, "There is no reason to explain, you don't owe me an explanation. I have been trying to call you because I wanted you to know that I missed you, but you would not take my calls. Above all Julia, I thought you were my friend, you should have told me. Our closeness is as unexpected for me as it is for you." I pleaded, "Starr, listen to me." She, rejected again, "It's not necessary, Julia, I'm leaving again in a couple of days, the distance will be good. I am exhausted and need to go now," I looked into her eyes and detected no glimmer of the inferno that we shared. The Frank saga has dimmed our chances at a permanent bond. I was just standing there having flashbacks, reliving our memorable times together, and then she closed the door. I dragged myself back upstairs, and Frank was gone, not sure, where he went, but I was happy he disappeared because space was needed, for me to work this out in my mind. He finally returned at three a.m., in a drunken stupor, waking me, and wanting me to dress up for sex. I firmly told him to, "GO AWAY!" Frank was only supposed to be here for one month, now it was going on two. I called in sick from work because of a profound emptiness that I could not shake and just wanted to stay in bed. You know what, in fact, the entire week is needed for me to get my head together. I changed my sheets because his smell repulsed me, then grabbed some crackers and water and turned on the television. With all of the drama I hadn't watched my favorite shows like "Shark Tank" and the "Profit," and luckily, today they had a marathon. Frank left to go somewhere; I didn't even bother to ask. TMZthey were discussing a few celebrities. I had the television on mute until I saw a picture of myself kissing Frank. I grabbed my remote, turned the volume up, and they were discussing a scandal involving Frank and a woman named Theresa Livonia, who just happened to be a transgender person. They were interviewing Frank Cheesio, and he claimed that he and I were engaged. He continued saying that the rumors about Theresa Livonia were false. TMZ even has a picture of him lounging on my damn couch and a panoramic view of the inside of my apartment. They interviewed his alleged lover, Theresa Livonia, who had come forth. She said, "Frank Cheesio and I have been lovers and together in a relationship for four years. He has paid all of my bills, he bought me two cars, a BMW, and a Porsche, and I have the receipts. No one knows who this other woman is, but I am the mother of all mothers, and he will not deny me. Transgender individuals are not invisible, and we hiding in the shadows any longer. We are everywhere. I will not omit who I am to make Frank comfortable... I'm a human being." Apparently, he dropped her, and now she wanted to get paid. A light bulb went off, "He played me." I began to analyze, and all of it made sense to me now. He used me for publicity reasons so that he could make himself appear straight. He knew this scandal was bubbling and about to break. I was a damn 'beard' for this son of a bitch. My picture is all over television connected with this. "THAT MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed! I thought about my profession, my elite positionand my confidentiality and a morality clause. My job description was covert, and here I am, the poster child for a gay man and his Transgender lover. And she looks better than I do! This is epic! I immediately called my attorney, and he was concerned about my career. TMZ, mentioned my name over and over connected with Frank Cheesio and his transgender lover. I was now known as the fiance, 'Julia La Fontaine.' TMZ even gave us pet namesthey referred to the scandal as Frank La Stein and La Fontaine Cheese. My attorney responded, and after speaking to the corporate lawyer representing my firm, they launched an internal investigation and put me on a sixty-day paid administrative leave. They were in the middle of a merger and did not want this to affect the outcome. I was the minority face of this company, the Magnum Business School whiz. The black chick that they took a chance on to diversify their firm. I was the only woman of color in the headquarters that represented my company, and the white boys in the office were not happy about it. I took a deep breath and said, "This is not part of the plan." I ran and opened my computer to look at the morality clause in my contract. After reading the section, about employee behavior in and outside of the workplace, I knew that I would eventually be terminated. However, I hoped and prayed for the best. I called my mother to test the water, checking if she had heard or seen anything. Luckily, for me, she only watches a few channels like "Own" and all of the courts and judge shows. But, when she gets over to that gossiping-ass church on Sunday, some zealous missionary was going to tell her. At least I had a few days to figure out how to explain this to her. And to top it all off, I desperately missed my friend, Starr Love. "Oprah Winfrey," Make A Bitch Cry Today I often fantasized, now this is my own folly, allegedly, because I didnt need another scandal. I assumed that when Oprah hangs out with Lee Daniels, Tyler Perry, Gail, and Stedman, they often have cocktails and enjoy very intellectual discussions. I also speculated that when they get bored on those days, the conversation goes like this. Lee, "Oprah, I'm bored, chyle." Then Tyler chimes in with, "Me too, what are we going to do? "Gail replies, "I know, Oprah, why don't you call people and make a bitch cry? So, Oprah gets on the phone, and she calls a random woman and says, "Hello, This is Oprah Winfrey, and you get a brand new car today, And what happens? The bitch starts crying. Then they decide to call one of their own, another celebrity, just to test out Oprahs powers. But it had to be somebody real big. So, they call Leonardo DiCaprio. Gail gets on the phone. "Leonardo." He replies, "Yes," This is Gail. Ms. Winfrey would like to speak with you," Oprah takes the phone and says, "Leonardo, I just want to say that you are one of the most prolific actors of our generation." And then Leonardo's bitch ass starts crying. This brings them great laughter and pleasure, and then they go make a movie or something. Because you can't help but cry when someone so wonderful comes into your life, makes a difference and then they go away. Starr, leaving had made me cry. I hadn't eaten or slept in days. I reached out to her, but she did not return my calls, either texts nor emails, she was not available. Starr was not buying what I was trying to sell anymore... And the tears wouldnt stop. I was learning and opening up to the fact that happiness may come in the form of me just having a real good, girlfriend. Not intimate, just a mutual good friends. Putting our rent money together and living in a big house with lots of property and animals. Without the thought of needing a man to complete us. Working towards living out the rest of our lives, which would be the best ones. Without competition, continuing to grow spiritually and intellectually and to achieve in our latter years. In my opinion, cuddling with another diva didn't necessarily imply you were attracted to women, it might mean you just needed embracing from the Motherland, Just to be wanted, loved and caressed. It appeared that relationships with men could be quite contrary. I had done it most of my life with similar ending results. I do not want to continue leasing out my body for low rent. And trust me, I had enough orgasms to last me a lifetime. My current situation has caused me to reorganize and restructure my plan... Cry. REAL DIVAS NEVER DIE I changed my door locks, re-keyed the deadbolts, and revised my security code to my apartment building and my parking garage. I wanted Frank gone, out my life. Frank had left several messages and texts with no apology, just regarding a few personal items that he had left behind. Something about his computer and flash drives. He personally wants to retrieve them. Once again, he mentioned nothing to me about explaining this bullshit. I thought his next field trip should be to the Mac store to buy another computer because I refused to respond. I read on Starr's Facebook page that she was touring out of the country. I was hoping she hadn't heard about the scandal. Was it possible she was not getting my messages or texts? Yeah, that was it. I was just going to lay low for a while. Day Five: The scandal was still the top priority on all news stations. Theresa Livonia was selling her story to every tabloid and any media outlet that was willing to pay her. She was advocating for Trans women and LGBT rights, and she dressed impeccably on every show. Meanwhile, I had lost ten pounds and was forcing myself to eat bread. I could not just live on wine and this joint that Starr left behind. I had no desire to do anything but lie on the couch and reminisce. It was that damn desperation perfume, the scent of..."My Mother's Desire." So at what point do I cross that thin line between being respectful and starting to live my own divine life? Generally, when you go to a chiropractor, he aligns your spine and advises you to return in two-three weeks to be realigned. This is because your body has been so accustomed to being in such a negative position that the spine instinctively moves back to where it feels comfortable. With just a few more adjustments and manipulation, it will begin to identify with the positive posture again. My mother had lived in such a pessimistic consciousness for so long that it was a normal way for her to be. She was sweeter now as the time went by, but she needed constant modifications. Let me give you a glimpse into my past because every self-proclaimed diva has one. The forthcoming scenario was why we connected to the word 'diva' because it was empowering, it gave us hope to be better women and to achieve greatness. I say use it as often as possible, unlike the belittling words that was used against us as we were growing up. The real divas learned to love themselves early in life as a survival tactic. Our mothers were great providers, but most have inherited the ghost of their 'verbal, abusive ways' from their mothers. Therefore, we didn't fault their draconian lines of attack, because they were generational. But it is truly a fucked up feeling to have to go through life with your mother demons connected to your spine. The constant flashbacks and cruel subliminal words that cut like a knife were their weapons of choice against you. "You walk too hard, you're too fat and never will get a boyfriend, don't talk so loud, or girl, don't be so rough, where are you going to find a man? "Why do you wear your hair like that? It is awful. "You should have done something different with your life." Never any compliments, but constant berating. Sometimes they were even embarrassed by you. Being the Strong warrior queen that you became, you have learned not to show emotions, but those words cling to you like a repressed memory that no Baptist minister could ever pray away. And that Louis Vuitton backpack that you flaunted through your journey was a symbol of achievement because she said you would never amount to anything. I, being negatively motivated, chose to gain my mother's affection by being an overachiever. This is the main reason why I was successful, because, after years of blocking her verbal punches, prepared me to get in the ring with Muhammad Ali. I carried this in silence with my head held high, knowing that if I lay down, I may not be able to get back up, and if I started crying, I might not be able to stop. So pressed on because "Real Divas never die, we multiply." The desire to please my mom had led me to this point and I hated it, totally dismissing my intuition and did not follow my heart. I was so angry with myself. My Magnum degree and that Howard University diploma meant nothing at this moment in the court of public opinion and common sense. I was just another woman who made a stupid mistake and allowed Frank to interrupt my plan, and I didn't even like him. I fell in love with the idea of falling in love. Such a typical, idiotic mistake. My ex-called and said he was selling his property in Hawaii and wanted to drop Kung Foo, off to me for two weeks. The plan was to meet him at LAX tomorrow when he had a layover. This was goodwith Fu here, I will be forced to get up and resume a normal life. Hopefully, he cannot sense that his master was a mess. I decided to take an Ambien that Frank had left in my bathroom. He called it the "A" so that the press would not know of his addiction. I just want to sleep, hoping that when I woke, another day might make a difference. #GOODLUCKINALLOFYOURFUTUREENDEAVORS The alarm clock apparently has been going off for an hour. That damnA" took me down, girl. I had to get my bearings together to figure out where I was. Then sadness hit me because I remembered why. I grabbed my cell, and still no message from Starr. My work predicament was miserable. Nevertheless, it was Starr Love that I missed more. Getting up to put on a skullcap sweats and then decided to wear my big shades like Starr does on a regular basis. I had to go pick up my baby from the airport. On my way to LAX. I drove by Eds Coffee Shop just in case Starr was back in town. I know that she loves animals, and I wanted her to meet Kung Foo. There is nothing like a five-pound poodle as a great segue way to, 'I'm sorry.' That ''A" is still in my system. I was driving, but it felt like an out of body experience. I was looking forward to picking up my puppy from the airport. Thank goodness, I did not have to park because my ex-was standing outside the terminal with Foo. We made the exchange, and he hurried back inside the terminal to catch his connecting flight. As he walked away, I noticed that he was developing hips. Now, for a man, that is not cute. I was now thanking the universe, which is 'God' for subtracting him from my plan. I just wanted to go back home and get in the bed, but Foo, who was so happy to see his mommy, wanted to run and play. So I was forced to take him to the dog park to meet the California dogs. Foo, a permanent fixture at Central Park, was stuck up in my opinion. How did I know? Because he refused to play with the Cali dogs. The men began to stare, I guess because I was a new face. I loved the incognito outfit I was wearing. I saw why Starr wore it like a uniform. It gave off the energy of 'don't talk to me, I am not in the mood, just leave me alone.' All the men who wanted to compliment my Ferrari or me looked from afar but did not say a word. I think I'm going to call this costume my 'Step off, drag as in, step off of my life. After the park, I stopped at the store for chicken breast, salmon, yams, and oatmeal so that I could prepare Kung Foo's dinner for the week, I had no appetite and did not buy anything for myself. We went home, slouched on the couch, and he cuddled with me as I told him all about what mommy did. I mentioned the big bad man, losing my job and pushing my friend, Starr away. He listened intensely, and then Foo pressed his nose against my face, giving me one of his famous kisses. He sensed that his mommy was sad. I lay on the couch for two days straight, only getting up to pee and take Foo out for a walk. Frank had the freaking nerve to have his attorney send me an email regarding his personal property that he left behind, threatening me In hopes that I will return his computer and whatever else. Now I know he backs his Information up on 'Cloud' because he told mehell, he taught me how to do it. So, buy a new computer, dude, and download your crappy football plays. Sue me, dammit. I managed to eat a peanut butter sandwich and drink a glass of almond milk. I also checked outside my door every so often, to see if there were any packages or if Starr left food for me, but nothing. Day Seven, The scandal had not disappeared as the beautiful transgender woman, Theresa Livonia, continued to give interviews on TMZ, CNN, Dr. Phil, and Perez Hilton. Each time she gave an interview, my name was mentioned, again. When he was planning his cover up by planting the paparazzi wherever we went, I had taken so many pictures with Frank that I became a celebrity. People wanted my autograph, everywhere. And now I realized why they were staring me down at the dog parknot because I was cute, but because I was the black chick responsible for blemishing their boy, the All-American Frank Cheesio. A major white boy quarterback and I was associated with him. While arranging my hallway mirror, I got a glimpse of myself, and could not believe the mess I had become. Deciding that tomorrow, I would wake up, dust myself off, put some makeup on, and find myself. I had to stop worrying and use this energy for a solution. Foo wanted to go to the park, we chose Runyon Canyon Park, which Starr had mentioned, to go running. Tonight would be the last evening of sadness. Kung Foo and I were chilling on the sofa, snuggled up, listening to "Friends of Distinction, You Got Me Going In Circles"... I still had a little Ambien in my system; I slept my misery away and awakened to a new day and a fresh attitude. Jumped up, took a warm shower and washed that man right out of my hair. Foo had hidden his leash again. Of course, I finally found it in his bed with a chewed up tampon, unused, thank God. Now, leaving my apartment in better spirits, I stopped the elevator on the second floor and stuck my head out just to be nosy. I saw the nurse going into Starr's apartment to check on her mother. On my way out of the garage, I noticed her car had not been moved. Hitting the streets, looked up and observed that her bedroom window was still closed, on this warm day, and the light was off. Therefore, I assumed that she had not returned from tour yet. My desire had turned into both anxiousness and concern. I wondered, "Would I be invading her privacy if I checked in on her mother?" "Would that give off stalker vibes?" I thought too much, too soon. Cruising, on my way to take Foo running at Runyon Canyon Park, I turned the music up loud and sang the entire way. I refused to listen to any sad music today. "Last Diva On Earth Episode:1 by Klymaxx, featuring Bernadette Cooper," my girl, had the white lady in the car next to me shaking her head like, "You people play your music so aggressively." I gave her the peace sign, forced her to smile, and kept it moving while I sang. "I got a gun, and I got a knife, and I got a husband, and I got a wife. Haters, you can call me whatever you try to break a girl down, but I'm still standing." The park was beautiful. Many paths and long roads took you to the top where you could see the ocean, the Hollywood sign, and many other landmarks. I walked and meditated. This was a perfect place to reconnect and have a conversation with God. I needed a blessing and an understanding of this mess. It was not a problem unless I couldn't channel an answer, and there was always a solution. Locating it quickly is what a girl needs to do. Many beautiful people were walking and jogging in cute outfits, but my mind was too preoccupied to care about it. Kung Foo had the best timehe even met a new girlfriend, a schnauzer named Veronica that he liked. How do I know? Because he embarrassingly began humping her. Now, he is only five pounds, Veronica is about twenty pounds, so go figure! I decided to jog up a trail that would take me higher and view the famous Observatory in Griffith Park. Kung Foo was tired by this time and demanded (by sitting down and refusing to move) that I pick him up, so I did. This baby was used to the luxury and the flat trails in Central Park, so this was a new adventure for him. While walking, I heard a soft voice, "Hey, lady." I continued to walk. This time, the faint voice transformed into a raspiness, "Hey, Julia, Lady." Turning around I see a person who looked familiar, I did not recognize her until she came closer. It was Theresa Livonia. She said, "You are Julia, right?" I replied, "Yes, I am." Well, "My name is Theresa Livonia," and then she began to explain, "Just wanted to say, I'm sorry. Frank never mentioned you before, and you were also all up in his life without me knowing. I think he played both of us. I'm a victim, too." I snapped, "Okay, go on." She carried on, "He told me that you were always hitting on him and that you were just friends because you were not his type." I bounced back with, "Obviously not." I must admit, this Livonia chick is gorgeous. She pressed on, "Even though I'm suing him, he tried to get back together with me, and I was invited to your apartment. Frank said it was an Airbnb rental, and that's why one of the rooms was a big womens boutique. He said it was the owners." "He lied about everything. Annoyed, I replied, "Okay, sweetie, thank you, is that all?" Livonia's tenor deepened as she barked, "We freaked on your bed, filmed it, and then watched the videos, honey. So, twirl, girl, because we are back together, and always will be. Frank and I share secret things, and you will never be able to satisfy him. I wanted to reply, "What, dick?" But, sensing that she was capable of aggression, I didn't want to be punched, So, I just stood there for a second, looking at her, and then I nipped, "Thanks again for letting me know, and, in one sweeping breath, #Goodluckinallofyourfutureendeavors. I put Kung Foo back down because. at this point, he had caught his breath and was ready to run again. I decided to exit the park as fast as I could. I was heated, livid, and dangerous. Driving through the canyons was a blurall I could see was black. I don't even remember driving home. How dare this individual have access to my personal space? When I entered my house, I immediately checked all of my jewelry, counted my Manolo's and Jimmy Choos, even my lashes. He had this person in my house. Then it dawned on me, that is why the media had pictures of the inside of my spot. Frank took pictures and videos and provided them to his P.R firm, who sent them to the media, to make people think he lived with his girlfriend and not his transgender lover. I have a picture of Frank, and I hugged up together on my coffee table. He made sure that the picture was the focus on every TV show. I was grieving at this point. I felt, hopeless, alone, and used. These are the three most terrible adjectives a girl could be. Then it hit me, and I said aloud, "What did Theresa Livonia say? A video? 'THEY FREAKED ON MY BED, SHOT A VIDEO AND WATCHED IT?" While preparing myself to call Goodwill to get this bed out of my house, I sat down, poured a glass of red and I thought, "That's why he has been calling and frantically trying to get his computer from me. There's a damn video on it!" My mindset was immediately transformed into a Cleopatra Jones swag, the black female investigator, and my first assignment was to get his attention off of his computer being in my apartment. I decided to respond to his message. I texted him, and it read, "I don't have your computer anymore. I gave it to the Goodwill, so, there is no need to call me, ever, you damn asshole. Thank you and with one broad, mouthful of air, #Goodluckinallofyourfutureendeavors. I went into detective mode, searching my entire apartment, looking for hidden video cameras, and then I tried desperately to remember the passcode on his computer. I had it memorized at one point while pretending to read, but watching via my peripheral vision. I tried his birth date, his football jersey # thirty three, even his penis size (thirteen), every and anything to find his code, but could not gain entry. Then I thought, wait a minute, I have connections. My best buddy is a tech/ computer wizard, he lets me download the apps that he creates, but he is in New York. I called him and said, "Bro, I need you." He replied, "What's up, sis? I meant to call you because I saw you on TV with Frank Cheesio and that tranny." Now, I am conditioned from my years in the corporate workplace to correct this, so I responded, The proper term is Transgender, bro, which means they identify with the opposite of what they were assigned at birth. But yeah, we will get back to the political correctness of this later. For now, I need you to do something for me." He replied, "Whatever you need, sis." I expressed, "This may not be ethical, but I need you to break into his computer. " He said, "No problem, my team is the Bucks anyway. I hate Frank Cheesio. As long as you got my back and my PayPal info, I got you. "Assuring Bro, "I'll send in an hour. " He gloated, "I've got a new app that I'm testing out, sis. Just forward me any email that he has sent to you in the past. Then give me the service tag and the model number information from the back or bottom of his computer, I am sure I can open this remotely. You don't know his password, but do you know his email address?" I replied, "Frankcheesio@frankcheesio.com." Bro replied, "If he has ever used your computer to access his, go into your email Information and locate his IP address and send it to me." My Bro continued, "Turn his computer on and leave it on I should have it open within a few hours." I said, Thanks, babe. I'm going to PayPal soon. I thought, If Bro knows the news, and he had seen my face on TV then my mother is aware, I must call my mom. Before calling, I sent my bro friend three hundred and fifty dollars via PayPal. I poured another glass, fed Kung Foo oatmeal, salmon, and yams, and then I thought about how my poor mother, who has no concept of Transgender or a white football player and the fact that my job was in jeopardy, was going to handle the news. ARTIFICIAL RESPIRATION I was in paramedic mode, trying to resuscitate me from one of the worst casualties of my diva life, wrecked by my careless behavior. I was waiting for Bro, to magically open this computer, because I think I've come up with a plan. Except I wouldn't know until this Robot box supernaturally unlocked. First, I needed to see if there were videos present and if he'd done any further damage to my reputation by possibly videotaping our sex together. From there, I could determine how I would survive this. While I was waiting, I checked the entire apartment again for video cameras, wires, and then I thought, "Girl, you're thinking old school. They don't do it like that anymore." The webcam is installed on the computer. Therefore, I sat my ass down, and I waited. Finding a possible solution, to a problem, has a way of bringing your appetite back, and I was famished. I went into the kitchen and tried to duplicate the croissant French toast that Starr had prepared for me, but it didn't taste like hers. While cooking and eating, I must have looked back at that computer a thousand times. I thought about my mother again, then I decided, I'd rather speak to her when there was hope. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a computer being activated. I ran into the living room, and it was all lit up like it was Christmas. I saw his monitor screen and his desktop complete with very organized numbered folders: Folder #1: Young girls under the age of sixteen, completely nude, sitting on toilets in a bathroom. Folder #2: A collection of young boys and adult male penises, all sizes and ethnicities. Folder #3: Videos of Frank in every sexual position imaginable with various women. Four of the videos were recorded on my antique bed, but none with Theresa Livonia. I very calmly opened my computer to PayPal and sent my bro tech friend a five-hundred dollar bonus. Now, I'm not sure if I found the smoking gun, but the drama was about to explode. HOT WATER CORNBREAD I couldn't believe that it had been forty-five days and hadn't heard a word from my job. My heart wants me to believe that this was a good sign. I hope that they will extend my leave of absence until this situation blows over. My ego thinks that it would be difficult for them to replace me. However, my intellect and logic felt otherwise. Yet, I was optimistic. "If they were going to fire me, I would have heard something by now. Just stop tripping and go to the gym or something." While pondering my job situation, I heard my phone vibrating. I was running around the house, as usual, looking for a cell phone that was buzzing. I stopped, listened, and then ran again and finally found it in the bathroom. Whoever was calling left a message. I swear, I have powers and can manifest my thoughts, because it was my attorney, telling me that today, my contract was terminated. Not only was I fired, but also, was not offered severance pay, and I was required to repay the fifty thousand dollar relocation fee, and the one hundred- thousand dollar signing bonus that I received upon signing the contract. I was aware that there was a clause stating, that if I am terminated within six months for behavior-related conduct, I had to reimburse the company. If I were to survive the six-month period this clause will be null and void. I had only been at the company for five months, ten days and twenty-one hours. Damn! The killer is the firm wanted me to compensate them within sixty days. I quickly went online to my bank and checked the balance. I had one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars in my account. After repaying, that would leave this unemployed woman with twenty-five thousand dollars until I figured my life out. This was a life lesson not to get so excited over the money that I overlook the fine print in the contract, thinking that unsavory behavior did not apply to mewell, it did. I knew better than this. My attorney had wanted to re-negotiate that clause, but I had declined and signed joyfully, thinking that I was on the straight and narrow. But I never would have thought I would date a narrow-minded man who was far from straight. I needed to call my mother to do a temperature check, to see if she had heard about this scandal. I dialed her number, we chatted for a while, and thank God, she never mentioned it. All she talked about was the Lord and, if I was lonely, to Let Jesus fix it.' I usually overlooked my mother's 'Let Jesus fix it' Bible catchphrase, but when you are in trouble, those words hold great significance. I could easily survive this riches back to rags ordeal, with the help of my wealthy mother, but Mom is frail. The money issue would not bother her, but trying to understand the Transgender person, the white boy sleeping with both of us, and the loss of my job might affect her well-being. I was choosing to work this out on my own, even if I had to sell my Ferrari. Even worse than the scandal and losing my job was the fact that I was terribly missing my friend and needed to see and apologize to Starr. I was waiting patiently for her to get home, but she had not returned. I went online, checked her Facebook page, and noticed her schedule. She was in London for a two-month residency. I decided to make a genuine presence, go to Starr's apartment, and check up on her mother. I ran down the stairs, bypassing the elevator, down the hall, to apartment 2A. A nurse was exiting the apartment, and I kindly said, "Hello, I'm here to visit Mrs. Love," She said, "Who?" I repeated, "Mrs. Love." She corrected me, "Oh, you mean Starr's mother, Mrs. Jean?" Stupid me, not remembering that Love was Starr's stage name, I, apologetically, went into the apartment and respectfully introduced myself, "Hello, Mrs. Jean how are you feeling? I'm a friend of Starr's." She replied, "Hello baby, I'm well, how are you?" My response, "Well, ma'am, I hope I'm not bothering you." She said, "No baby, my pressure is up a little, but other than that, God is good." I asked, "Is there anything you need or would like me to do for you?" She responded, "Yes, read the Bible to me." Sitting with her and reading scripture after scripture, somehow it gave me strength. I realized my troubles were nothing. It was just part of my journey. At her request, I heated up a can of Silvia's collard greens and made her some hot water cornbread. Mrs. Jean was a beautiful brown-skin woman without a wrinkle in sight. I think she was in her eighties, and she loved her hair in plaits. We call them braids now, but back in her days, it was a good day when she could wake up, sit on the porch and have hair styled with fresh plaits. Mrs. Jean was a very proud woman, this I could tell when I helped her to the toilet. She was not comfortable with the assistance of this kind. So Mrs. Jean allowed her mind to travel, diverting her attention away and back to the days when life was simple. She described her life growing up on her grandmother's cotton plantation in Jefferson, Texas, "All of the kids picked cotton and her grandmother and grandfather sold bushels of it to the locals. Her grandmother raised her. Her maternal mother, who left the shame of having a child out of wedlock, hightailed it to California for a fresh start and life with her new man, and abandoned her,. When she was fifteen, she was reacquainted with her mother by force. Her grandmother put her on the train with a brown paper bag full of clothes and sent her to California. Mrs. Jean's mom was not happy about this and never accepted her. As she spoke about this, her eyes wandered off, and I could feel her pain. She praised Starr and expressed how she missed her. After Mrs. Jeans stroke, which handicapped her, Starr moved back to Los Angeles and received a release from the rest home to care for her. She said, "These bills and the nurses aren't cheap, so my baby has to work hard. And when she's home, she cooks for me, bathes me, and never complains. "She asked, "Where is your mother, sugar?" I replied, "In New York." She uttered, "That's a long way, but it's okay because love reaches East, West, North, and South. Make sure you send her some love back." I responded, "Yes, ma'am. Mrs. Jean, I will check on you another day, here is my cell number. If you need me, I'm upstairs in Suite 3A." When I left, I received a call from the bodega that delivers food and flowers to my ex-neighbor, Mrs. Dennis. They informed me that she had passed away and they no longer needed my credit card on file. I held the phone for a while, cried, and then it hit me that this was a testand not of the American broadcast system. This was a test given to me from my life, showing me that our existence is only for a short visit here on earth. The light bulb went off, the fat lady sang. I immediately went through my drawers, pulling out clothes everywhere, searching for my passport, and I found it. I jumped on my computer, went to kayak.com, and booked a first-class ticket to London, England. I then went on Airbnb, found an apartment in Covent Garden's, and booked it for one week. I called my ex and made plans for Kung Foo. I was taking back my power, making the decision to live in the moment and leave the drama behind. I was departing on a flight in two days to catch Starr Love, live on stage. The days leading to my departure were extremely enlightened ones. I was excited, but then trepidation set in, wondering if Starr Love would reject me. Then I vowed, I'm going with no anticipation. I was learning that if you have expectations, then you will not be disappointed. I was going with a pure heart because I was truly sorry. Either she would accept my apology or she wouldn't. Whatever the outcome, I would accept it. Before leaving, I bought groceries, making sure that Mrs. Jean had plenty of collard greens, and I made her fresh hot water cornbread and put it in the fridge for her. I also left all of my information with the nurse. The Uber was waiting for me. I had to get to the airport early to exchange Kung Foo with my ex. The plan was to do a quick Switch-a-Roo outside of the terminal again. We were both rushing when my car arrived at the airport. I gave my ex a quick peck on the cheek and a warning, "If anything happens to my baby, I'm coming for you" He smiled and left with my little Foo. I enjoyed the complimentary bar on the flight and had two glasses of Champagne, and the filet of beef with smoked potatoes, kale, and shredded carrots was major. I then went into a well-deserved semi-coma in my upper, cabin, sleeping quarters. British Airways got me to London Heathrow International on time. Actually, the flight was early. I was able to get through customs quickly, jump in a carriage, arrive at my apartment and rest before surprising Starr at her show. My apartment was beautiful and quaint it was located near the markets and of many boutiques that I would most certainly visit later. Your girl was starving, so I went and bought some fresh pasta and pasta sauce, a bottle of red, and went back to my apartment and cooked. I was eating while imagining what I should wear tonight. I decided on a cashmere turtleneck, a wide leg pant and that same leopard print clutch that I love so well with Jimmy Choo, Tia pointy toe pumps. Of course, I put on eyelashes because I wanted to feel sexy, like a super hero and that is what lashes do, they give me extraordinary powers. I ordered a limousine instead of a Hackney because I wanted it to wait for me, just in case my visit was a short one. Thoroughly enjoying the sights on the way while sipping on a glass of wine in the back of the limo, I was trying to un-sober the drama of Frankenstein Cheesio away. Boy, there is nothing like arriving when you know you are looking good. I had already purchased a ticket, sitting in the back of the venue, so seeing me would not disturb Starr during her performance. I had it all worked out. She would receive beautiful flowers after her show, letting her know, that this girl, was in the building. I would be perched on a chair, exposing the Swarovski crystals on my shoes, with a 'shaken filthy martini' in hand, looking like I just did not fly ten hours to get here; I just matter of fact appeared like a maverick. The lights went dim, Starr, was announced, and she came on to the stage looking so freaking remarkable, she was arresting. I have seen her on the plane and hanging out at home, but never on stage in full regalia. Seeing Starr allowed me to see all of the levels of this magnificent woman. Not often do you meet someone with layers, meaning not one-dimensional, giving you different flavors, keeping life interesting, never dull! Tonight I had learned to respect and honor her on another level. She was a musical contrarian thinker, and I was falling for her. After the show, I waited at the bar for a while. I then asked the usher, "Is Starr Love still in the building?" He replied. "Yes, Ms. Love is signing autographs, but indeed, has received your flowers. She thought they were brilliant." An hour later, after three martinis, when a lady should only drink just two, all of these emotions began to cloud my judgment. I thought it was about time that either my ego or I go, so Julia La Fontaine decided to leave. "She has my information on the card that accompanied the flowers. If she desires, she will call me." Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice from behind, say, "Hey Strange, what took you so long?" I turned around, grabbed her, holding on and collapsed in her arms. I began to bawl and could not stop crying. After putting on a brave front for so long, this girl could no longer portray a calm facade, nor hide behind my flamboyant mask. I could be myself with her. The core of me was dismantled. I needed her to collect me. She stared at me as if she was examining my soul and said, "Grab your clutch bag girlfriend, you're going home with me tonight." THE REINVENTION OF A PLAN Starr Love's flat was not far from mine. It was like a smaller version of a Royal palace because she was the featured entertainer. We drank, undressed and got in the bathtub. Starr lit candles, and she did her tradition of pouring wine into the tub. She massaged my body with oil and decided to remove all traces of hair from every inch of my body, except my head, of course, by applying a European serum she loved. It was like, as time had never passed. However, tonight was different; it was sensual, but not a sexual vibe. It was evident that we needed to talk. She began, "Now, explain Frank to me?" I said, "Starr, something awful has happened. I was deceived, manipulated, and lost everything that means anything to me, over him. I want you to understand that the pressure of my mother, being alone, my family and not having a child led me to Frank. I am not confused at all, but my inability to accept that happiness might possibly come in the form of a woman put me in the arms of someone who destroyed me. I accepted and allowed him to use me, and I am sorry Starr. I know we did not have a commitment or a plan together, but deep in my heart, I knew we had a connection, but I ran. Sometimes we search for things that we already have. The worst part is that I betrayed our friendship. I should have told you. I want you to know, for this, I am truly sorry." I ended my emotional, disjointed, rant by saying, "I'm not even sure if you wanted me in that way." "What way?" She inquired. I responded, "You know, like a girlfriend." Starr, in a whisper, "Why? Because I didn't say the words? I was showing you and letting us evolve into whatever we were meant to be without expectations. I do not have all the answers. Julia." I then asked, "Starr, what do you want from me?" Starr answered, "The physical has been just a small part of what we were becoming. Julia. We were developing trust and a great friendship. This means much more than the entity, sex. I would have you for eternity if you were my faithful friend. I told you I wanted to own you. That is what I meant. If I have possession of your heart, we will be together always. That is what I desire, a loving friendship. I do not want to call us a relationship because we have not been through enough to say that we are a relationship. Once you have gone through many situations together in life and you sustain, that's when we can call ourselves a relationship and only then will I have expectations. I have already achieved the 'happy' part. Now, I desire a dear friendship that will last forever. Starr then asked, Julia, "What do you desire?" I just simply said, "I want our love to transcend gender." I no longer cared what my mother wanted me to be. Forget all of the dream killers; I wanted to get back to my original plan... Happiness and I am happy with Starr Love. After we both fell asleep in the bathtub, I vaguely remember her waking and lifting my limp, ten-hour flight, exhausted body out of the tub, drying me off and putting me In bed. She cuddled me. The warmth of her embrace while I slept was the most beautiful feeling I have ever known. When my eyes opened, Starr had brought me breakfast in bed. She had prepared her famous croissant French toast, a spot of tea and a copy of Eye On You magazine with a picture of Frank, Theresa Livonia, and me on the cover. Starr inquired, "What the hell is going on, Julia?" I started sniveling again, I answered, "Babe, he tricked me; he used me for publicity while all the time he had been having an affair with a Transgender woman named Theresa Livonia. Apparently, the rumors were beginning to spread, and he was getting a lot of heat from his teammates and coaches. So he hired a P.R firm, and they set it up, so wherever we went, the was paparazzi, snapping pictures. Then his people had the pictures planted in the mags to make it appear that he had a girlfriend who graduated from The Magnum Business School. All the time he was with Theresa Livonia. I broke down when I admitted, "I lost my job, Starr," What? You lost your job, Julia?" she asked. "Yes," I replied, "And I have to repay all of the advances they gave me." Starr looked at me and said, "I don't have to perform for a couple of days. We are going to take a ride. I want to show you the countryside, and I would like you to tell me everything you know about this Frank Cheesio. Oh, and bring your P.C tablet. I still do not understand why you don't use a Mac. It's sinful." During our ride and research, I told Starr about what I found on his laptop. All of the files with the child pornography and the racy videos with other women. I also mentioned his male cock collection with young boys. We searched, and we discovered he was the highest paid quarterback in the San Francisco Mustangs history. He owned property in Miami, Atlanta, Beverly Hills, and New York. He had three children and had been divorced twice. Once arrested for lewd conduct in a public place. The bathroom, at a park, girl. But, it was later thrown out of court. He also had an arrest for drunk driving. We retrieved this small amount of information from Google, but it was big enough for Starr. "Okay, baby, he has to pay you. We can do this legally or illegally, but he is going to have to compensate you for what he has done to you. He has ruined your career, your character, and your reputation has value." Starr continued, "Where did you tell him the computer was?" I said, "I text to him, I donated it to the Goodwill." Starr responded, "Great. So, as far as he knows, it's out of your possession and probably in the junkyard or has the hard drive erased, right? Because the Goodwill wipes your hard disk before they sell the computer to their customers. I know this because my friend purchased one from them. Frank and his people are aware of this as well, that's why he's not bugging you any longer for it." Starr continued, "Julia, his net worth is at least, fifty million dollars, and that does not include his investments. You're a financial whiz, you do the math." I responded, "You're right, babe. His portfolio includes investments in stocks, real estate, he owns four Cheesio Bagel franchises, and he is an NFL spokesperson. I am sure he is worth well over fifty million dollars. In addition, this is the year he is a free agent, oh and I forgot he told me he makes twenty million dollars a year, with his Nike endorsement alone." Starr replied, "Sweetheart, this is the plan. We need to keep you as far away from this as possible because your reputation has taken too much of a negative hit already. But what we are going to do is, in some necks of the woods, or in my music business, we called fighting fire with fire. Or, We're going to extort his ass, legally of course." I gasped, "I can't do that. Extortion is illegal and highly unethical, I will lose all of my licenses." Starr said, "Yes, it is beyond your morals, but I'm in the music business, and I am used to promoters who do not want to pay, and my road manager has to step in with a gun. You can call it blackmail, manipulation, or a stick-up, but it is going to be done, legally. If it makes you feel better, we will call it 'obtaining under duress,' but we are filing a suit. Correction, you are not going to sue him, I am." I replied, "Well, how the hell are you going to do that?" Starr, questioned, "You did tell him that you donated the computer to the Goodwill, right?" I responded, "Yes!" She fiercely replied. "Well, I am the woman who bought it before they erased the hard drive." We continued to Google, and I came across a few articles where other Transgender had come forth and claimed to have had relations with Frank. I thought, "Maybe they're a part of the 'one hundred women' he referred to at our dinner date." I found two of them on Twitter, and I connected and convinced them to share their stories again. One of the women did not want to discuss it at all, another one; I could not get her to stop talking about it. Now understand, she was explaining her story via her DM on twitter, so I have it all in writing. She continued ranting and then introduced me to the possibility of two others that would be willing to tell their story about Frank. She put me in contact with them: "Iwuana Mann," "Fabevry Day," and the Asian"Grace Mi"who claimed to have a cup with Franks fingerprints on it. They all sent me statements. Apparently, Franks cheap-ass had made promises to get one of the ladies breast enhancement and the other lip injections. He also short-changed them when it came time to pay them for their company. They wanted blood. Starr felt like our presentation needed to be stronger before giving it to her attorney. But she was going to shoot the dice and roll with what we have. Now we had three statements regarding Frank's preferences. With the videos of him sleeping with various other women, the child pornography pictures, the cock pictures, and the three written testimonials from the affairs with the Trans girls, we may be able to prove fraud to achieve compensation. Starr called her attorney, the famous Entertainment lawyer Sweeno Nor, who was a master of negotiations. The presentation went like this: "Starr Love is in possession of the computer that she purchased from the Goodwill. She opened it and to her surprise were nauseating videos, disgusting photos, and lewd pictures of male organs. To top it off they were all from her favorite quarterback, number thirty-three of the San Francisco Mustangs, Frank Cheesio. Repulsed by what she has seen she now must go to therapy. She has not yet told her therapist who the culprit is, because if child pornography is involved, the counselor is forced by law to report it. So what does a girl do?" Starr's attorney, Sweeno Nor had decided that it was worth a shot. He said, "Frank Cheesios attorney ought to know that we are in possession of child pornography and pictures of him performing sex acts. We will see what Mr. Cheesio feels is fair compensation for Starr Love's pain and suffering. And, of course, the cost of the hard drive." Mr. Nor felt like it was a long shot, but a good one. He was moving forward. Attorney Nor contacted Frank Cheesios attorney, and the negotiations began. Franks attorney asked for a copy of the hard drive, but Attorney Nor required that he view the evidence in his office. Now we were waiting. Starr and I decided to go shopping, so we grabbed a Hackney. Our first stop was Harrods's, where we spent hours browsing and buying. I loved this place, especially their lingerie departmentthe quality was excellent. We checked out Carnaby Street but didn't find anything that we could not live without. My best shopping experience was right in the neighborhood of my rented apartment in Covent Gardens. I love to hit the vintage stores and find the unusual. It's so cool that Starr has love as well, so we had a ball trying on vintage Chanel and searching for Antique jewelry pieces. I had vacationed in London many times, but never had the opportunity to visit Buckingham Palace, Starr accompanied me there. I was hoping to get a glimpse of the Queen but to no avail. Then, we decided at the last minute to hit the West End and check out a performance of my favorite artist, Bernadette Cooper, at the St Martin's Theatre. Her musical show was entitled Last Diva On Earth, Episode: 1 Planet Sexy. When we entered, the place was jumping. Everyone was on their feet dancing, then Starr I decided to get our party on. The lights were dim, and the scent of salaciousness was in the air. We popped bottles of champagne and for the first time during our visit, she kissed me. I adore London because it is so romantic. Always gloomy, which I love, and felt at peace here, rather tucked away and hidden with Starr. Away from others opinions and judgment of whom we are or might become. It puts the dream snatchers at a disadvantage. Those who are busy, pinching off someone else's life, or desires would not dare come to London because it would be out of their basic intellectual territory. It is too broad. To see the world and be accepting of how others live is to admire God's work and his Universal plan. The dream killers do not have the capacity to understand this concept. Therefore, I carried on. My flight is leaving tomorrow; I had already extended my stay an additional week, dealing with the Frank Cheesio disaster. I yearned for Starr Loves touch, but she was distant in the manner I desired. We had spent many nights together and lots of time talking, planning, and being reacquainted on another level. However, I needed her in a strange way. The song by "The Stylistics" was in a sistas head, "You Are Everything..." We had a delightful Tapas dinner last night. Extreme intimacy did not heat up, as I wanted, it was very PG-13. But we were close, personal, and played footsies all night. Tomorrow, I will return to Los Angeles. I was so happy that I followed my intuition and traveled to see Starr. It was magical, and I was digging her like an Al Green 45. TUPPERWARE On the plane back to Cali, I did the numbers. After returning the firms one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and the cost of my trip to London, I will be left with ten thousand dollars in my account, twenty-five thousand available on my credit cards, and my Ferrari, which I did have the pink slip for if I needed cash. Thank God that I paid my rent four months in advance. I computed my survival plan, and I could survive six months without asking my mother for any contributions. By then, this entire matter should be resolved. It was a blessing to land back in the States safely. You immediately notice a change when you come from Europe back to the States. The tranquility is gone. I quickly jumped back into the cyclone and almost came to blows just to get a cab. This man stepped on the heel of my boot while pushing in front of me to get into my waiting taxi. I decided to let him have it and wait for the next one. I didn't want anything to interfere with my, happy. I was now heading home, reminiscing about Starr. It felt good. She opened my mind to many possibilities. I felt no pressure and looked forward to her return. The entire time I was with her, I didn't even think about our age difference, nor did I make a distinction between our chosen professions. The blending of the creative and the conservative minds was serving us well. It was an escape from the normal when we were together. Never competing; always sharing, growing, and learning about each other's worlds. Her wisdom spoke to me, in a grown folk's way. It is not beneath, it's above. You know, when you are on a budget, the little things matter more to you. I don't want to appear small, but with the cost of my cab ride, I should have called a limo or an Uber. This is why Uber was taking over now. I'm a girl on a tight budget, and this eighty dollar cab ride from LAX to West Hollywood was ridiculous. I should have invested In Uber when I had the chance. The driver didn't even help me with my luggage, but he wanted a tip. I gave him a hundred dollar bill, and he handed me twenty-one dollar bills back and stared at me. I said, "Here's a tip sirnext time, help a diva with her luggage. Ciao." Did he get the memo? I did mention during our ride from the airport that I was from Harlem. I entered through the security door of my building, something that I rarely do because I typically enter and exit through my garage. The elevator stopped on my floor, I looked in and quickly noticed that my front door was ajar. I hesitated, then took several steps backward and looked from a distance and dropped my luggage. My mind started racing and so did my legs, down the fire escape stairs, out the front of my building, and across the street where I can view the apartment building as I called 911. The West Hollywood Sheriff Department arrived. They made me stay with one of the squad cars while they went inside to investigate. They returned and asked, "Does anyone else have a key to your apartment?" I said," No." Then I thought about Frank. But, I re-keyed my locks, "WTF." The police said that the house has been ransacked, but there was no sign of a break-in. They began questioning me, accusatory style, like maybe this was an insurance fraud matter. Irritably, I responded, "Excuse me, officer, I'm a professional, just returning from London, England, first class, and besides, I do not have renters insurance yet. It was in the plans." They escorted me into my apartment, and my belongings were everywhere. All of my drawers were on the floor, My clothes were knocked over, and the fridge was open. It is suspicious that, the only thing missing was my personal work laptop computer, which I am sure by now the IP Company techs had wiped thoroughly clean. It is one of the items; I had to return along with the company cell phone. My jewelry was here, my shoes and my collection of handbags that were worth at least one hundred thousand dollars, were still in my boutique bedroom. I felt sick and, even more, unsafe. I had a gut feeling about this. At the same time as the cops were taking a report, Starr Love texted me to make sure I arrived safely. I returned her text and explained the problem. She immediately called me. We both felt it was the work of Frank Cheesi-ass. But how did he get the key to my place? Starr insisted that I stay at her apartment until she arrived back home next week and we could clean up my spot together. She gave me the number for her locksmith to change the locks and to make an additional key to her place for me. The cute sheriff asked me, Do you have any idea who could have done this?" " I responded. "It could possibly be Frank Cheesio, and I want his name down in the report." The officer looked at me and asked, "Frank Cheesio, number thirty-three Frank Cheesio? Now, why would he do something like this, ma'am?" Before I could open my mouth, he continued, "Okay, you're that lady on television, his girlfriend, right?" I quickly uttered, "No, I am not his girlfriend." West Hollywood was known for their gay officers, and I think I was speaking to a very dramatic one. The sheriff questioned, "Are you sure this is not a domestic issue? You two were planning to get married, right? Are you confident that this is not for revenge? He is one of the best quarterbacks in the world, and this could affect him. Why would he do this, ma'am?" I thought he had no idea, and I had better be quiet at this point because the officer was obviously a Frank Cheesio football Queen." The sheriffs wanted to fingerprint my place. "No!" I am from Harlem, and I'm used to break-ins. I didn't want that messy fingerprint powder all over my antiques. I took Starr's advice, went inside my place with the officers, and grabbed a few clothes. I greeted Mrs. Jean, heated her up some mustard greens and cornbread, and waited for the locksmith. When he arrived, I quizzed him on the possibilities of how someone could get into my apartment. He told me that the door was probably opened with a master key, one that the superintendent or the manager would have. I remembered that I most certainly gave the manager a copy of my new key as required in my rental agreement, but how did Frank get it? Whoever was in my apartment was looking for something specific. Then it hit me, the short Latin maintenance man came in one day to fix my toilet. He noticed Frank and was in awe of the fact that the number thirty-three quarterback was lying on my couch. He asked Frank for an autograph. It is a possibility he thought Frank lived here and opened the door for him. I decided not to say anything yet. Sometimes there is power in silence. Now, to add to my problems, I had a three thousand dollar computer that I had to replace for my ex-job. Since I was staying at Starr's apartment, I realized that Mrs. Jean's needs were minimal. All she needed was food, bathing, and incontinence help. Since I was accustomed to doing this routine with my now deceased grandmother and neighbor, Mrs. Dennis, I decided to relieve her nurses and save Starr some money. I took on the duties for Mrs. Jean. Besides, I did not have a job to go to, so I had time to spare. I was jet-lagged and needed to rest, but tomorrow I would begin to prepare for Starrs arrival next week. Looking in her closet was like visiting a museum. Very much like mine, but grand. Her costumes and her everyday wear were all hanging and put away thoughtfully. Her stuff was the real deal. It wasn't modern "Chanel" it was "Coco." It wasnt "Donatella," it was "Gianni," and there is a difference. I couldn't wait until she returned so we could have a fashion show. I was crashing in her guest room but would love to sleep in her bed and smell the natural fragrance that she wore. Our taste was very similarshe had antiques, and I noticed white towels everywhere. Pictures of her and an elderly woman were framed beautifully on her wall. I later found out that it was Starr's grandmother. Overhearing Mrs. Jean on the phone gossiping with her friend Virginia, I paused before entering her room. She noticed me, ended her conversation, and we began to chat like old friends. If you want to know anything about anyone, hang out with his or her mother. I gained unsolicited knowledge about Starr. "Starr took care of her grandmother until she passed." I also learned of the different animal charities that she gave money too, and, above all, the attention that Starr gave to her mother that made her irresistible. She collected nude antique paintings of 'imperfect' bodies and she loved 'Tupperware.' 'Tupperware' is old school, but it keeps everything fresh until you return to it. It gets the job done. Starr Love was 'Tupperware.' "FABULOSO." Starr was on the plane, coming home, and from what her mother told me, she has a broken toe. I threw on a pair of Van sneakers and overalls, I had much to do before she arrived and then I could go downstairs, and assist Starr, and her luggage. The car arrived, and Starr Love exited. She was walking with a slight limp, and I found it hilarious because I know how clumsy she was. She said, "Hey Strange, you look so cute with those overalls on, they are perfect for carrying my bags." I replied, "Yes, and that is what I plan to do." I got her upstairs, went back, directed the driver to carry her baggage, and led him to her apartment. I just had to comment on her dreadful luggage, "Your bags are very nondescriptanother word for ugly." She let me know, "I have had so much of my expensive luggage stolen; now I travel with the most hideous baggage. But inside, its prime real estate, baby. I try to throw the airline handlers off." I gave the driver a tip, closed the door, and gave Starr the biggest hug. She asked, "How are you, Julia?" I replied, "Your mom and I are doing great. She is full and happy, and we have been watching re-runs of Greenleaf together. She is a lovely lady." Starr thanked me for taking care of her. I had prepared dinner, so we chilled out and ate before I told her what I wanted out of her closet. She laughed and said, "Babe, I am exhausted. After my mom falls asleep, sneak into my room so that I can feel your body all night. We will deal with your apartment in the morning." I awakened with her maternal arms wrapped around me and to the sounds of birds chirping outside her bedroom window, since Starr Love's room, directed west; I had a clear view of the ocean. The iconic backdrop of Palm trees surrounded her balcony, and a French door opened up to her terrace, displaying outdoor furniture so comfortable that it seemed like an extended room. As I prepared to sneak out, I kissed my friend on her forehead, eased out of bed and made it into the kitchen without detection by Mrs. Jean. Plugged in the coffee maker and made a pot of fresh hot coffee. I cooked smoked Gouda cheese grits and eggs for the ladies when they woke. After breakfast, I was not looking forward to entering my apartment. The thought of someone violating my space creeped me out. Our plan was to clean it up, recreate the Vista that I had, and then Sage the evil 'Frank' spirits out. I scheduled AT&T to install an alarm system so that I could view my apartment from my laptop or tablet. I was also thinking about buying a gun, which gangsta ass Starr thought was a good idea. I put those same overalls on and so did she because we have work to do. We went upstairs with plastic bags, two bottles of "Fabuloso," a vacuum cleaner, gloves and a baseball bat. We had to pump ourselves up to enter, and we were ready for a good old Thelma, and Louise beat down if someone came into that apartment. We both knew, deep down inside, that it was Frank. I was going straight to his football package. We began in the living room, picking up books, old school CDs, pictures, and a dildo that was under the couch cushion off the floor. Starr vacuumed, and I arranged. Then we proceeded to the kitchen. Pots, pans, and dishes were scattered everywhere. Whoever it was had pulled out all of the silverware and the food in the freezer onto the Spanish tiled floor. Working together, we were able to finish the kitchen in an hour and decided to take a break when Starr's cell began to ring. It was her attorney with updated news for us. She put him on speaker. He said, "Ladies, I have some not so interesting news for you." He stated, "I just received a phone call from Grace Mi, one of the Trans ladies. She is in the hospitala 'John' slashed her face from her temple to her throat last night. The person who sliced her mentioned Franks name, and now she wants nothing to do with the case. To make matters worse, the other two have gone into hiding and will not return my calls." This horrified Starr and I. We dropped the "Fabuloso," grabbed the bat, and got the hell out of the apartment. I decided to return when AT&T showed up and installed the alarm system. We had heard enough, Starr and I decided to drive to the West Hollywood pawnshop to buy a gun. I purchased a. 357 Magnum because I was not playing. I did not realize that it would take a mandatory wait period before I could take it home, but at least now, the 'bust a cap in his ass' plan was in progress. We stopped at Ed's Coffee Shop for tea and tried to gather ourselves while Starr, on her cell, discussed upcoming shows with her manager. They rescheduled many of her performances due to her broken toe. I read some of the magazines laying around, and we were both pondering all that had just happened. As we were hurrying with our cups of tea because we had left Mrs. Jean unattended, paparazzi snapped my picture and asked me, "What do you think about Theresa Livonia?" I did not reply, I kept walking straight to the car. Then he asked while filming, "Did Frank buy you that Ferrari? It's sweet." Starr and I jumped into my car and drove away. Starr checked her emails and had received another message from her attorney. Once again, it was not good news. He stated, "Frank Cheesios attorney says that we have no deal. Frank refuses to negotiate. He said that someone planted the child pornography pictures on his computer. In addition, since it had been out of his possession, anyone could have downloaded the pictures and videos and put it there. Also, there is no crime in a man having consensual sex with other women and filming it with her knowledge. And as far as the cock pictures are concerned, Frank was comparing his genitals to other males because he had an insecurity about his size. So no harm, no foul. To be a good person, Frank is offering twenty-five thousand dollars for Starr Love's pain and suffering from coming in contact with it. However, his client will not admit any guilt. Attorney Sweenio also added, "The strange part is that they know about Grace Mi being slashed. How would they know this, if I were the first person she contacted after the slashing? She had called me before the other girls disappeared. I will continue to negotiate, but this is where we're at, ladies." I said to Starr, "Damn, baby. What am I going to do? No company is gonna hire me!" Starr replied, "Time will heal this. Just stay out of sight away from the media until this runs its course. Let's go buy you a wig, girlfriend so we can hang out in peace." We were quite solemn on the way home. I was disappointed but did not want to let Starr know. I had become a problem in her life, and this was not the vibe or the portrayed intention. It had gone from sexy to espionage. Maybe I should move back to New York, but then my mom would know. "Damn," the drama of it all. We decided to relax for the rest of the day but vowed to finish cleaning my apartment tomorrow. As we were walking into the apartment building, I saw the maintenance man in question fixing the front door of the building. I decided to ask him, "Excuse me, did you let anyone into my Apartment 3A?" He replied, "Yes, your fianc, Frank Cheesio." I advised, "He is not my fianc, and he did not have permission, sir. What is your name?" He begged, "Jose, miss, I don't want to be involved in this, I may lose my job. I thought, I mean, Frank told me that he lost his keys and needed to get in the apartment. I saw you leave with your bags two weeks ago and mentioned it to him. I thought it was okay and I let him in. It's Frank Cheesio, for Gods sake." He was so afraid that I decided not to involve him, but I did ask, "Will you be willing to put this in writing for me?" He replied, "Miss please, I have six children, I can't lose my job." I decided not to press him. However, I was correct, it was Frank and, knowing the effect he has on the male species, I thought it was useless to tell the police. I just wanted it all to go away. I wondered why he would take my work computer. I figured that it was probably out of spite because that is the kind of person that he apparently is. I couldn't believe this. It took me a lifetime to get where I was, and sixty days for that asshole to tear it down. Starr was experiencing jet lag, so she went to bed early. I was depressed and just chilled on the couch and watched a video until Mrs. Jean fell asleep. After I adjusted her covers, I then eased back into Starr's room and nested into the comforting arms of my fellow warrior. Sweet silence reigns as we rested to fight another battle tomorrow. The morning had crept through the shutters of her window again. The Robins were singing a melody that only they could interpret, and I woke up mentally swinging. I was now eager to get back into my place and start piecing my life back together. I love those times in the morning when I am just lying in bed or the couch, and I have a chance to meditate. Sometimes all we need is a good night's rest to help us see clearly. I have always overcome adversities in my life. Once again, I released this into the Universe and decided to direct my energy towards a solution to get back on track. Maybe my job did exactly what it was meant to do. Possibly only a short stop on my journey, not intended to last forever. I have not been able to understand the beauty of Frank entering my life, as of yet, but, if I remain patient, maybe this too will be revealed. The one real blessing so far was my friendship with Starr Love. She didn't have to say a word; she was showing her love through her actions. This was the best kind. I was up earlier than everyone else was again, so I prepared coffee and a batch of oatmeal with raisins and egg whites. I served both women in bed, gave Mrs. Jean her medication, and I was ready to tackle my apartment with no fear. After breakfast, Starr jumped in the shower, and I turned on the television to a 'Judge' show for Mrs. Jean. Starr and I both put on our over-alls, actually having a contest on who could look more like a clown. She put her overalls on with a green polka dot top and a red skullcap. Of course, I won by modeling my overalls with a pink tee shirt a fur vest that I found in Starr's closet, as well as an orange scarf with zebra and leopard gloves. We grabbed the scented floral bottles of "Fabuloso" and our baseball bat and headed to my apartment. On the way up the elevator, I let my inner "Stevie Wonder" bust out in song and Starr sang with me: "My Cherie Amour"... Our "Hobo Kelly" outfits kept us amused as we sang and focused on cleaning, but our vision was scoping that front door. We finally made it to my bedroom, which was not as destroyed as the other rooms. I love a simple room with just a bed and a TV. We only had to change the sheets and put away Kung Foo's doggie bed and toys. Realizing that the job was in the process of being completed and feeling a sense of accomplishment, we opened a bottle of wine before we proceeded. I picked up Foo's teddy bears and put them in a bag to store away until he returned. I decided to put his doggie bed underneath my bed. I knew Foo is a hoarder, realizing he had been grabbing small items, from wherever he could find them in the house and nesting them inside of his cot. I began to throw away one loose sock, a crushed up ballpoint pen, a half-eaten "Ritz" cracker, and a gnawed on flash drive. How and when he got a hold of these items, only Foo knew. Starr looked at this collection of puppy finds and asked, "Is that your flash drive? Do you want to keep it or throw it away?" I took a fleeting look at it, "No, it's not mine, I replied. "I only use IronKey, W500 flash drives. I have no idea where that came from." At this moment Starr looked at me as I glanced over at her, and it began to click in both of our minds. She said, "Let's see what's on it." Even though the plastic was somewhat chewed up, it was intact. We were hoping that the data was still viewable. We looked around for the computer and then remembered the pretend robber, Frank, had taken it. We ran to the elevator and went down to Starr's place to open it on her laptop. While hovering over the computer waiting for it to load up, I grabbed a banana. We put the flash drive in and, as we lingered, it opened. There were four numbered folders up on the screen. I discovered that Frank Cheesi-ass had a particular style of naming files. Opening up the first folder, I almost choked on my banana. Starr and I stood in front of the computer, mouths agape and watched Frank Cheesio having sex with transgender Theresa Livonia. The part that his Mustang teammates would love the most was that Theresa Livonia had Frank Cheesio bent over and was pounding him while he masturbated. Both of their faces, on the computer screen, were clear as the day is long, and so was my antique bed. Frank adjusted the camera on the laptop to make sure that he had the perfect angle. They screwed, sucked, and Frank's face disappeared inside of Theresa's Gluteus Maximums for forty- five minutes exactly. Trust me, he enjoyed her much more than when he was featuring me. We tried everything to open the second and the third folder, but the files kept reading: "File damaged." I thought about my Bro man in New Yorkhe was exceptional at restoring erased or damaged files. I was prepared to overnight the flash drive to him until the fourth file opened without a problem. In the fourth folder, Frank fiddled with the camera, got into position, and watched while Theresa, with all of her strength, slowly asphyxiated him by tying a pillow case around his neck. Then almost, near unconsciousness, she paused, and Frank orgasmed screaming, like a girl. By erotic asphyxiation, the fatal fetish was apparently his desired method of pleasure. "Locker room drama," I thought. Frank often called me to say he missed me while I was at work and now, I understood that they were just temperature checks, to see where I was. Starr and I stood there shocked, but not surprised, the only words Starr could say were, "Okay, let's see him deny this now." We quickly made a safety copy of all files, transferred them to Starr's Google Drive, and created a link. We figured that this was the reason that Frank was so frantic and broke into my apartment. The reason why all of my belongings were scattered around my housebecause he figured that I had rid myself of his computer to the Goodwill, but kept the flash drive and hid it. Frank knew that a flash drive, with a grown-ass man, getting screwed by a Transgender woman, was not an item I would be traveling around the world and going through customs with. Therefore, when the maintenance man told Frank that he saw me leaving town, Frank figured he had time to find it. Thank you, Kung Foo, my Angel. We were like, gurl, lol, lol, this motha here. It was Sunday afternoon, and Starr, and I decided to send a link to her attorney so that on Monday morning he could view it without downloading. The subject stated The Smoking Gun... Mr. Nor, while cleaning up Julia's apartment, we came across this flash drive. We believe it to be the property of Frank Cheesio. Click the link to view, Please advise. Best, Starr Love. CC, Julia La Fontaine. SACK A QUARTERBACK IN HIS END ZONE Starr and I watched the Sunday NFL finals, the San Francisco Mustangs against the Los Angeles Cougars. Frank Cheesio had just thrown an interception, and it appeared that this was not a good day for him. The score was 31- 24 for the Cougars. They had him sit out the end of the fourth quarter and brought in a new, young quarterback to finish the game. In dramatic fashion, the young quarterback scored and led the Mustangs to victory. As I watched Frank play, I searched hard to see the gay inside of this six foot four, two hundred and twenty-pound man. Girl, I could not find it. This was the new face of reality for me. You never knowall that you could ever ask from anyone is honesty. Sleep was difficult because of our excitement, so we stayed up most of the night. I had snuck into Starr's bed again while Mrs. Jean slept. We wondered about the possibilities and what excuses he would come up with next. Of, course, Frank had one of the best attorneys in the world, but Starr reassured me that Sweeno Nor was the best negotiator in the entertainment business. If it could be done, he would do it. With this assurance, I rested comfortably, in a fetal position, nurtured by someone who cared for me. Not only was I ageist, but I think I had a mommy "please love me complex from the lack thereof. The following morning, we overslept. Our plans were to get up early and head to Starr's podiatrist, then enjoy pancakes at Eds. However, it was now 11 a.m., and we were behind on our schedule. In a rush, we had totally forgotten about last night and the link to Frank's sexcapades until Starr's cell phone rang. It was her attorney. He firmly said, "We got him!" He was going to take the rest of the day and strategize with his team. He assured us that Frank Cheesios attorneys would receive the information soon. An appointment was scheduled for me to come into his office and sign a representation agreement. Attorney Norm stated, "If he denies or refuses to negotiate, we have the option to set up a press conference, based on clearing your name, my client's reputation, and the damage done to you by Mr. Frank Cheesio. We have hollered! When you work in the corporate world, they do not comprehend recklessness. Companies will not look at this as a temporary pause in my plan. This is devastation in their world. A black woman representing a brand, who was caught up in a scandal including a favorite white boy football player, that she destroyed, due to a Transgender mnage trois that involved her? This is a game changer and would follow me throughout my career. Some jealous, employed, secretary within a company, would pull those pictures up and use them against me, because the corporate world is cut throat, especially to a powerful woman of color. Starr and I steamed crabs and prepared a kale and beet salad for dinner to celebrate. She wanted me to switch it up and try her favorite wine, which was white. We had both vowed to become pescatarians, slowly easing our way into vegetarianism as a way of advocating for the animals. Happiness was in the air, but we were still nervous and unaware of the outcome of this fiasco. Starr unexpectedly handed me an envelope. She said, "I know, you don't have to speak it, I want you to have this while you figure everything out." She then went into the bathroom to draw her bath. I opened the envelope, and there was a twenty thousand dollar cashiers check payable to Julia La Fontaine. The date on the check was the same as the day that we found out that Frank Cheesio refused to settle the case. I thought, damn. I did not go through the drama of, 'Oh, you didn't have to do that' or 'I can't accept this,' because I actually needed it. Moreover, the fact that she felt my pain and sacrificed, without me saying a word, is the meaning of unconditional love. I then slipped into the bathroom, where Starr was luxuriating, but this time, I bathed her. I remembered the days when months took forever and years were without end, but two weeks had gone by, and it seemed like an eternity without a word from Attorney Nor. Now I had too much time on my hands. I went back to my apartment, the alarm system was connected, and I had a monitor in every room of my spot, which was two thousand square feet. I finally returned my company bonus and moving fees. I also gave them back their phone and an additional three thousand dollars for the computer that Frank had stolen. So far, that big cock has cost me one hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars. And as I think back, I didn't even have an orgasm. He was most definitely a grower, not a "show-er." Starr and I had been spending much quality time together. She came up to my apartment for romantic dinners and sometimes spent the night. However, it was a strictly platonic friendship. I am not sure why we were not playing strange games any longerI assumed it was because who could possibly feel sexy throughout this Frank saga? Women internalize things more. Men want to fuck after a funeral. I am now organically letting it flow. It actually felt good to know that our companionship was not defined by sex, but I appreciated the forethought and creativity and enjoyed her style of games. Most that I had slept with in my lifetime, I was so in denial with, that I could pass a polygraph test. However, Starr Love was the gospel. Starr had a doctor's appointment today to get her foot x-rayed. She just called me from her cell: "Hey sweetheart, I'm pulling into the parking lot. Have you checked your messages?" I looked at my phone and saw the missed calls. She said," My attorney has been trying to call you. He wants to meet with you tomorrow at 2:30 p.m." I asked Starr to accompany me, and she agreed to. I am not sure what this was all about, but I am prepared for anything now, even the possibility of Cheesi-O not wanting to settle, we would see. It was a very gloomy, chilly day in Cali and I finally had a reason to turn my fireplace on. I heard a tap on my door; It was Starr stopping by my spot before going home. She wanted to help me pick out an outfit for the next day. It was my first time meeting Sweeno Nor in person. I tried on a few garments, and we agreed I shall appear classic, with the chocolate skirt suit and a crisp white blouse with pearls that would make a girl caught up in a sex video scandal look respectful. I just happened to glance over at her, and peeped that strange look in Starr's eyes. You know, the one when she has romantic thoughts in mind. So, I got ready for it because I had been waiting. She said, "Come here, Julia." Walking towards me, she greeted me with hugs and sweet spoken words. "I want you to know that I'm happy for you. No matter what the outcome is, baby, you are a winner. As she leisurely made her way to stand behind me, I got a whiff of her concealed masculinity, being set free. She continued. "When we're not together, I yearn for the scent of you on my skin. And then she gently kissed the nape of my neck. She breathed, I'm intoxicated by the smell of your body, Julia." Then Starr reached her arm up and grabbed the fishnet pantyhose, thrown about the antique coat rack, that had caught her eye the moment she walked into the room. I watched her do a double take. She sat me down on my zebra chair near the fireplace as she gently put the fishnets on my thin, elongated, bare legs. She moaned while admiring the view. The mood was perfect, and the radiance that reflected from the fire was arousing. She then whispered, "I feel that it's so much sexier to put an article of clothing on than to take it off." I agreed, thinking that before meeting her, I was the only person who understood this level of sensuality. She ordered me, "Look at the wall, at our silhouette together, it is beautiful. In fact, let me see it from a different position." She guided and turned my brick house around to face the chair. Starr moaned, and the sultriness began, "I am admiring the view of Julia." Now, I knew it was on when her voice transformed from "Marilyn Monroe" sexy to the Captain of the vessel. Sensing my edginess after not feeling her touch for so long, she began to soothe me. "Relax, Julia, it's okay, baby, I came bearing gifts." Starr proceeded to put a black leather mask over my eyes and skillfully adjusted it from the back. While kissing my neckline and breathing naughtiness in my ear, she panted, "I am depriving you of your eyesight, just trust me, let me take you there." I asked, "Where, Starr?" She replied, "To a blinding good fuck. Forget about everything else, it's just you and I and I've been craving us together, Julia. Thank you for your confidence in the London trip, taking me in your arms and reassuring me and us. Darling, let me show you my appreciation." She guided me to my knees, bent me over the chair and went forth to devour it from the back, through my fishnet stockings. Licking me from the crown to underneath the base and back again. Like she was bread, I was water, and she was thirsty. I want you all over my face, she demanded. It was incredible. My pleasure was intensified by my lack of vision. For three hours straight, Starr uttered hotness. Ripping the stockings with her teeth, while enjoying the vista. Then diva ordered dinner again. Apparently, she was famished. Only pausing whenever I wanted to detonate, then, she slowly and deeply slipped fingers into the back passageway. At that moment, me not knowing that she came enormously strapped with heavy artillery, Ms. Thing opened up the front door baby and deeply pounded on me, working it, teasing me with it, pulling it out just far enough for me to beg her to put it back in. She became my effeminate thrust master. Now the mystery purchase, of the condoms, from the pleasure chest, was revealed. Then I remembered, "A blinding good fuck." I finally got the punch line. Damn! Now, this is what I should have paid one hundred and fifty-three thousand dollars for. The next day, we barely arrived on time at attorney Nor's office. Because last night was a movie, that I put on rewind and we repeated twice. At last, we made it. Sitting in his beautiful marble-floored office in Santa Monica, overlooking the ocean, I crossed my legs and read a magazine. Starr was chatting with the secretary and eating out of the candy bowl when Attorney Nor suddenly appeared. He said, "Hello ladies." Starr introduced me to Sweeno and then he asked if I wanted Starr to be present at our meeting. "Absolutely," I replied. Without Starr, I would not be here." We sat down in this huge office with hundreds of gold, platinum and double platinum albums on the walls. It was very impressive. He asked, "Julia, now what have you gone and gotten yourself into?" We all laughed. He had an excellent bedside manner, more of a creative lawyer than a corporate attorney did. He said, "Well, I have been in touch with Frank Cheesios attorney. I know him very well; we went to law school together. He came to my office to see the videos because there is no way I wanted that link out of my possession. After viewing and discussing the case with Frank's attorney, we, ladies, have a dilemma. I have good news and badwhich would you like to hear first?" I responded, "Mr. Nor, just gives it to me straight." He said, "The bad news is that for the return and ownership of the flash drive, they are offering ten million dollars and a very strict confidentiality agreement." Starr and I gasped; my face fell on the floor. Mr. Nor, continued, "The good news is that I asked for twenty million. I have threatened a press conference with the knowledge of the flash drive and the contents, which we will not discuss at this moment." Laughter filled the room. He went on, "He ruined your reputation by involving you in an unknowing threesome with a Transgender woman and it was publicized. You lost your high-profile job and probably will not be able to work in your profession ever again. There are pain and suffering involved. Now he cannot deny the affair with Theresa Livonia or the cover-up. I just want your approval, do you want to accept the ten million, or should I move forward?" I put on my executive hat and replied, "Well, Sir I would like your professional advice." His response, "Well, we have an offer of ten-million-dollars on the table that is not going to go away as long as you have that flash drive. And because it was in your house it is technically your property to do with it as you please. Now, you don't own the content, that is intellectual property, but the flash drive, in your possession, is the dynamite that may explode at any time, I'm sure he's nervous. Now, everything is private, the media have no knowledge of the videos. I would assume that Mr. Cheesio would like to keep it that way." Without hesitation, I said, "Then I am willing to wait for a more lucrative offer." He acknowledged, "Okay, I have papers here for you to sign, agreeing to my percentage." I signed them. He ended with, "Okay, ladies, I will be in touch soon, and Starr Love, please rest your foot so you can get back to work." Starr and I walked out of his office, trying to be cool, but when that elevator door opened and then closed, we screamed. I suddenly remembered I was a Howard University, Magnam business School graduate. I had forgotten, let my guard down, allowing my pink to show. I was so happy I had a friend that allowed me a soft place to land. We had no words; just our jaws open wide mouthing. Ten-million and then twenty-million dollars. The entire ride home was a blur. Millionaire bliss drove us back home. Now, I can imagine making twenty- million in a lifetimethat was definitely in my planbut not in one sitting. With my financial knowledge, I could turn twenty-million into four generations. Starr and I decided to do the right business thing and not celebrate until I had the money in my account. I had no idea how I was going to explain this to my mother. I really didn't want to lieno fib would ever be believable other than I won the lottery. Then she will mention it to the missionaries of the church, and one of those gossiping nuns, without a doubt, will tell her, "Julia was on the front of People Magazine with her boyfriend and his beautiful Transgender lover. Oh, and, by the way, the Transgender was gorgeous sitting next to your daughter." That is a lot to explain to a woman born in 1936. After we had returned to our apartments, I went upstairs, changed, and decided to take a run. Starr was in no condition because of her toe, so I made the journey alone around my neighborhood. It was beautiful here. I jogged around for a couple of hours and looked at some property for sale, checked out the boutiques, and eventually stopped and bought some yogurt for me, Starr and Mrs. Jean. When I began my walk back, guess who I observed? Frank Cheesi-butt getting out of his white Bentley. I thought, he sure loves to hang out in West Hollywood. I hid behind a tree. He went into Starbucks on Santa Monica Boulevard. He did not see me, I noticed he had a sling on his armmaybe he got hurt playing football. He met a woman inside, and they hugged. I was searching to figure out if it was one of his Transgender friends. Wait a minute; it was Iwuanna Mann, the one, who was supposedly on my side. I thought those girls went into hiding. I got it. I understood what was happening. Frank probably paid them to disappear or to pretend as they went underground so that my case would not be strong enough. These divas could not be trusted; I was just another woman to them. Transgender were born with a feminine mental apparatus, and their focus was a man. Females are taught to dislike and hate each other if there is a male involved. I suddenly thought, considering the gamble, "Maybe I should just take the ten-million before something goes wrong." However, after a few minutes of pondering and computing what was left after the attorney fees, I would be selling myself cheaply. Ten- million was no money to this guy. I took a picture of Frank and Iwuanna Mann on my cell so that Starr could see and then headed back to my apartment. Starr greeted me, with the not-so-good news. Her x-rays for her foot came back. Apparently, her injury was misdiagnosed as a simple toe sprain. But the results came back much more severely. It was a ligament injury called "Lisfranc." It was a potentially career-ending injury for someone who worked on their feet. Starr was crying when she opened her door, trying not to alert her mother. We went into her bedroom and discussed it. She said. "I thought it was a simple toe fracture. With my clumsy ass, I have broken my toe many times in the past. The doctor said he didn't like the way the initial X-rays looked and wanted to do a CT scan. Performing is a decision that I made, I want to perform for the rest of my life because I love it so much. But I refuse to go on stage and have to sit in a chair. I mean, I can walk and do normal activities, but the chance of re-injuring it is a concern." I replied, "Well, is there a solution? I mean, did the doctor say there is another option, Starr?" She answered, "Yes, surgery." I vowed, "Whatever decision that you make I will support you. Let me know if you want my thoughts." Starr asked, "What do you think I should do?" I said, "Honestly, I think you should wait and let's try natural healing methods. I will massage it every day and prepare fresh wheatgrass; it may help to heal from within." She agreed. We went to Amazon, ordered a wheatgrass juicer, and shot glasses. Starr looked at me, smiled, and burst out into some "Marvin and Tammi. You're All I Need To Get By." I said, 'Gurlll, you think I don't know nothing about that song? Ashford and Simpson wrote that. You better ask somebody." And we both finished the song, out loud! IGNITE THE FLAMES I committed it to memory when Starr Love mentioned how there was really no relationship until two people had gone through trials together, they have learned how to solve their problems, and stay together. This is when a friendship transcends and morphs into a relationship. I think that caring for Starr during her foot fiasco was one of those trials. Relationships are cascades of cause and effect within a friendship. You cannot really have a relationship without having a friendship first. This is the problem I find that most couples face. The reason why many relationships do not stay together is that there is no foundation to build from, there are no bones, nothing rock-steady to stand on. It takes a lot of hard work and determination to remain in a crumbling house and then vow together to stay and rebuild. I am beginning to see Starr's point of view. Most stumble and fall within a relationship. Instead of picking the person up, we leave them crawling on the floor and proceed to the next standing individual. And begin another plethora of problems and learning experiences to overcome. These people are not in it for the long run; they are just joggers, passing by with earphones in their ears. However, there is a 'twin flame' love that is designed to succeed This is not a new theory, but let me put it into perspective, relative to Starr Love and I. The people who have been together for twenty, thirty, and forty years are connected to a force created by the universe. Some couples are predestined to be together. They were fashioned by the best designers before their arrival on the Planet Earth. The two were born in the same galaxy. Upon entering the earth's atmosphere, they split off to learn and experience life and then somehow they met again to share their journey and understanding of living. They may create beautiful music together; the two might build a profitable business, or possibly be teammates on a baseball team. And it's likely they are in the same sexual category. However, their purpose is to reunite here on Earth and to create magnificence in concert with one another. And once they connect, they are meant to stay together, no matter what, because it has already been written, Now Frank was a jogger that I allowed entrance into my temple. The only thing one truly own is their body. The Gucci bags and the Hermes scarf, they are just imaginary trinkets designed to enhance my self-esteem, but what you truly own is your temple... your flame. And I allowed trash to enter my shrine. You do not dig up glory from trash... You acquire more rubbish. The trail of debris that he has left behind is about the choices that I made. I am learning to expand my (I do not care what people think about me) horizons. What I am learning it is not gender clarified, has no sexual distinctiveness, the color is transparent, neither the taste can be defined, nor should you modify it to be accepted. All the loves of my past have been joggers. I am now ready to ignite flames. THE DEATH OF A MERGER I had a lot of spare time since I wasn't working. I threw some popcorn in the microwave, grabbed a blanket, and relaxed on my comfortable couch. CNN had mostly negative things going on in the world, so I picked up my tablet. The stock market took a plunge today, and a baby was missing after her mother went to the bathroom, came out, and the two-year-old toddler had suddenly vanished. How do you lose a child? I wondered. I know where my dog Kung Foo is every second of the day. I picked up a crossword puzzle, did a few... then there was that breaking news scroll that goes across the television screen. "A scandal with an enormous financial firm," coming up after the commercial. I had to go pee hoping to make it back in time. After washing my hands and pouring a glass of wine, I walked in at the tail end of the news clip, and they mentioned 'Paul Kozswartz.' "What the hell?" I missed what they were reporting and began changing channels to all the other news stations. I popped back on my tablet and googled his name. "OMG! Okay, if you noticed, I never mentioned the name of my firm or my boss's name because corporate was highly confidential and we are taught not to disclose much. This was why I was a little freaked when I received flowers at my job from Frank. Wondering, how did he find out where I worked? 'Paul Kozswartz' was my boss, he was the man that I initially met in New York and was the CEO of my company. 'The merger did not go through!' Paul, The COO, The CFO, the former VP and Diana Steinberger, the woman hired from within, who filled my terminated position, had all just been indicted for securities fraud. My old company had been forced into bankruptcy. I sat back on the couch, and all I could do was stare into space and Google. In addition, money was smuggled out of the company, disguised as executive bonuses and fraudulent assets were found in offshore banks. I was shocked, but not surprised because this type of thing goes on all the time in this business. That was the reason why I developed my plan because I personally observed the goings on. I screamed. "Thank you, Universe," I walked away disconnected, untainted, unaffiliated and without designer prison stripes. I am learning not to question the things that I think go wrong in my life and learn to appreciate that it all may be a part of my plan. The one bad thing is, now my mother was calling. I couldn't let it go to voicemail, nor could I answer and say, "I'll call you back mom." I had to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. "Hello, mom," I said,. She responded, "Hey baby, are you alright? I heard your company's name on CNN." I replied, "Yes, mom, I'm just fine, nothing has affected me, I am now moving forward and have already had a few offers on the table for new positions so don't worry. I'll be back to see you soon." She said, "Okay, sweetheart call me if you need me." "I love you, mom, goodbye," I replied. Stick and move baby, stick, and move. I think, the Universe forgives lying through omission because it is best for the elderly. After the news and the sparks from the flames of my mother knowing had been safely extinguished, I ran downstairs and told Starr. We both were in amazement with all the stuff that was going down in our lives. It was like a movie. Starr felt like I dodged a bullet. She said, "You're a smart girl, Julia. You will bounce back from all this. Start concentrating on your next move." I contemplated, "Yeah, what is my next move?" That was a tough question to answer at this moment, although I would figure it out soon. We sat down and watched the news. From channel to channel, everyone network had a different story, so we were analyzing and surmising. We were a real live Sherlock Holmes and Watson. It was quite intriguing to be this close to a scandal and know all of the players involved. Starr failed to mention that she had left me a message, with all of the theater. She must have left it when I was on the phone with my mom. I said, "Babe, my phone is blinking; did you leave me a message?" She replied, "Oh yeah, Sweeno Nor called and wanted to meet with you. I guess he feels comfortable enough to call me when he can't get through to you. Email him if you are available tomorrow for a meeting at 1:30 P.M." Damn, I have a nail appointment tomorrow," I thought. "But I can reschedule it. Are you going with me?" "No sweetie, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, she said. "You're a big girl, go handle that." I teased, "I'm a big girl in more ways than one." Starr gave me that strange, look, the one that I like, but I was going to bed early. "Good night Starr, I'm going back upstairs." I blew her a couple of air kisses and said, "Nite, nite." THE NEXT MOVE I was accustomed to classrooms and not intimidated by going to interviews, but as I sat here waiting for Sweeno Nor to arrive to discuss which could possibly be my career fate, I must admit that I was nervous. Frank Cheeseball had put me in a position such that it would be difficult for me to be accepted by a reputable company. Coupled with the fact that my last corporation was under investigation, I was sure to be passed over for the next applicant. The secretary asked if I would like a bottle of water or coffee. I chose the water with a straw. Attorney Sweeneo Nor arrived with tennis gear on, as I nervously sweated in a vintage Norma Kamali wrap dress. He complimented your girl and then led me to his office. Attorney Nor mentioned the whole fiasco of my past job and how lucky I was to be out of the internal investigation, and then laid what appeared to be a contract down on the table. He said, "Ms. La Fontaine, please take your time and thoroughly read through this agreement." I read the first page, which was specifically outlinedit was a very strict, confidentiality agreement. "Whatever," I thought. "I have no desire to talk about Frank, Mr. Cheesihead to anyone." I continued reading: Frank Cheesio will assume possession, ownership, and control of all copies of videos, flash drives, and hard drives. I thought, "No problem" while Sweeno Nor stared at me from across the table. The confidentiality agreement was twenty pages long. One thing I did notice was that the contract called for me to personally, never receive a copy. My attorney was to retain the only copy of the agreement. I thought to myself, "He probably is so fearful of it being discovered that he is really 'gay' that he wants no photocopies." I didn't care. I wanted to erase him from my mental, digital, file anyway. When I finally got to the financial terms of the agreement. I looked up at Sweeney Nor, and he smiledand so the hell did I. The settlement offer was for $18.5 million dollars. I thought to myself, "Now, why would I feel the need to negotiate, when excluding the twenty thousand dollars that Starr gave me, which is being held to the side, I have less than ten thousand dollars in my personal bank account? So, not wanting to be greedy, because a lot of good can be done with this, I looked at Sweeno Nor and said, "Settle! Pen to paper, and now thanks to the extraordinary Starr, I was a millionaire. I guess I slept with the right man and fell in love with the right woman. Attorney Sweeno Nor said that he would contact me when the check was delivered. We shook hands, and he went back into his office. He was probably doing the happy dance because his percentage was a third of $18.5 million dollars. I went into the elevator, prayed, and gave thanks for watching over me. I was higher than high right now and was trying to come up with a creative way to tell Starr the good news. I really wanted to do something special for her, add a different layer to her life. Because this was her idea, she put the ball in motion, like a chandelier; my beacon of light, Starr provided the luster that gave me hope and the will to shine. I opened my heart to this woman, not because I am a womanizer. I was choosing to fall for her because she cared so much for me. She harbored and protected me, and even provided finances to me without expectation, just out of concern for my heart. I was attracted to Starr, because she was devoted to me as a friend, even through all of my imperfections. I was thinking about her and the words that she said to me. Began thinking about the next move. "The next step in life," I thought... I know what it was: "Proceed to put my happy plan into action." I drove around the block a few times; I was reminiscing, focusing on the present, and thinking about the future. It is funny how sometimes you have to lose everything to find yourself. A side of me realized that I was now financially secure. Now, what do I do?" I jumped out of my Ferrari, which I could now keep, and I calmly appeared at Starr's front door. I tapped, she opened, and I walked in, first acknowledging her mother, and then said, "Starr, may I speak to you in private?" "Sure," she replied, "Is everything okay?" I began, "I couldn't come up with a more creative way, but to purely say thank you for being my friendand the settlement offer was for eighteen point five million dollars, I accepted it." We embraced, and both began crying tears of joy. She could not believe it. I said, "Baby believe it. I returned the twenty thousand dollar cashiers check that I had no need to cash. Then enlightened her, "I now have a plan. Expressing, "I have never felt this way for anyone, knowing I never will again. A female companion has never been in my long term plans. I am not even sure if this is your thing because we never discussed what you prefer. Damn, I don't even know your middle name, Starr. And you cannot even tell me what my astrological sign is. The beautiful thing is that it never matteredI do not care! But what's most important is I am happy when I'm with you, and sharing my life's plan with you is my desire." I continued, "I would like to purchase old historic properties, restore, and sell them. As we find antique pieces, we can collect and store them and possibly open an antique store, together one day. I did say together, are you down? Will you share my vision? Will you be my soul partner continuing to grow with me?" Starr stated, "First of all my middle name is Jean and please describe what a soul partner is?" I explained, "It means that I share my spirit, heart, energy and my craving for life, with no one else but you." Starr responded, "Does that include being fun and spontaneous because I never want to lose that quality of our friendship?" I said, "Of course, always." She smiled and graciously accepted, "I would love to continue this journey and share this beautiful vision with you." Julia La Fontaine then said to Starr Love, Now give me those pelican feet so that I can massage that broken toe." As I was giving her foot, a major rub down, my cell phone that I am never able to find, started to vibrate. It was Frank Cheesio...      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