International Published Author at 19 (Summer 2014) :FB SHORT STORY CHALLENGE 

    The summer of 2014 changed my life forever. I remember dreaming of traveling out of the country! Then it happened. I busted my ass to make sure I raised enough money for a two thousand dollar plane ticket across the world! The catch? I had a week to do it. You damn right, ya girl did it! Who would miss an opportunity to the motherland! NOT THIS GIRL. No how, no way. I had to go or everyone was gonna die. I hustled enough start up money to order my short stories to sell to my community; I made the cut with the help of Eastside Oklahoma City. My parents funded zero dollars. Thanks to them. I am a pro at making ends meet. A round trip to West Africa study abroad program; Where I took on a part time job at some fancy newspaper agency and learned the in’s and out’s of publishing world news. 

I even published a couple articles myself; giving me a new title “International Published Author.” I was careful not to leak any confidential information to the press in exchange I would keep all of my limbs. 

    The food had to be my TOP favorite thing. Besides, well… I’ll explain that later. After seven years of vegetarian life, I decided that chicken wouldn’t kill me to try again. Slowly I jumped on the “chicken head” bandwagon and I loved it! The freshness of the meat, smelling like it was butchered just hours ago and delivered to my hotel. The fruits and vegetables were perfect. No pesticides or chemicals being grown into the natural sweet beauty. 

 I was starting to think I was in heaven. The men were obsessed with me. Every chocolate animal wanted to cuff me right then and there! Forcing their conversation on me. Walking on the beach letting my feet soak in sand between my toes, they stared in astonishment. My skin complexion was every dessert they could think of. Insisting that I show them the wedding ring I constantly fibbed about. Overwhelmed, yet amazed at how beautiful I was to the eye of an African man. When the black men in America degraded us black women. Hearing a man refer to a Queen as a bitch or whore was the norm. I called moms in tears overwhelmed at how much attention I was getting. I literally didn’t know how to handle it, I was traumatized. Now that I look back on it, I would choose being treated like that over how I’m treated by thugs in jankie okie ville. 
    Nothing mattered back home, besides my dog and siblings. I missed them like crazy. I kept all my heartache in the same spot I left it in. My boyfriend of a couple months was already back home mastering infidelity with his ex chick; the entire city knew her as the Gordon girl. She was no entertainer but she stayed going live. How he became my child’s father……. I have no clue. Everything’s a blur. I was over my mental abusive relationship and ready to live… I threw him out of my head to save myself making Africa a total nightmare instead of making my dreams come true. I couldn’t let him steal my joy. Not now. 
    “So what you wanna do tonight?” My roomie asked. 

    “Let’s go to the club. Let’s go to a couple clubs!” I yelled from the bathroom as I try to alter the african wrap I purchased earlier from the market. 

    “Okay. Ima call Ernest and tell him to pick us up.” She said. 

    “Okay bet.” I walked out the bathroom. Gesturing her opinion on my outfit I put together. 

        She walked over altering my top to her style, which was way better looking than mine. We both laughed.

    “You got the key?” She asked. 

    “Yeah.” We headed out the door. We looked real fly. We let our group leader know we was headed out. As long as we were in class in the morning everything was straight. Ernest pulled up and we headed out. 
    “Wassup Jojo? How you doing mein?”

    “Nanka def. Jama rek?” I replied.  

    “Ah! You speak Wolof?” 

    “Just a little bit. We’re learning.” I said. 

    “If you don’t mind, we going to get a friend of mine. Akin, is his name. He is journalist just like you.” He explained. 
    Oh no. What is this some type of double date? Just be cool. You’re gonna have a good time. I told myself everything would play out. We pulled into a community of small buildings that looked like they were built from clay. Akin stood outside waiting. He hopped in the backseat and introduced himself. He looked old enough to be my dad. He admired my beauty. 


    “So where do you wurk?” He leaned over and asked.

    “Gambia Newspaper.” My soft voice must have had him hooked because he asked me questions all night. His scent was seductive, not too much. His accent made me want to wrap my legs around his waist in the middle of the hookah lounge. He was slim and stood midgets over me. Writing this story make me want to call him up just so he can talk to me with his tongue. We sat down as a group in the far back corner. Akin was my man for the night. Since my boy was back home acting up. That was over wit’. I thought… 


    “What do you wunt to drink?”

    “Sex on the beach…” and I can’t think of the other drink I chose. 


    We danced and chatted while we waited on drinks. Then more drinks… I’m a light weight so it didn’t take much for me to feel the buzz. That was the cool thing about being overseas, they didn’t I.D.. you. I was nineteen and intoxicated. On top of spliffs and hookah, I was LIT! He put his hands on my waist and I danced to his rhythm. Roomie sat there jammin to the nigerian music that streamed through the club. I was in ecstasy. There was nothing better than this feeling I was feeling right here. In another country… Now this is what you call living.  

    “Can we go outside?” 

    “Sure.” I followed him out the back doors. It lead to the dumpsters and manufacturing things. We walked along the patio further behind the building. By this time I was definitely bothered. The temperature was just right. Feeling like a california night. I wanted to lose control with this strange man. We found a quiet place where no one could see us. He pulled me closer to him and rubbed his nose against my nose. He lingered in my scent. 

Trying my best to resist his welcoming lips, I gave in. Engulfing his entire bottom lip. Shoving my tongue down his throat as if I had done this before. My feelings were hurt, I stood there thinking about Wicked and how I kissed him, just like this. He felt pain in my kisses and the passion of me clawing at his back. Lifting me up placing me on a sturdy piece of wood, he scooted me closer to him forcing my legs in the air. I squirmed because I wasn’t letting him fuck me. But, I would not dare turn down getting head in Africa…. 
“Ehh.” I moaned, hesitant. I didn’t say stop, but I was uncertain.

“Just let me lick it, Princess. I promise, nothing more. I just desire to taste you.” He was skinny but strong and he pinned my  

“Okay.” I prevented any arguments. 
So there we were in the back alley. He ate me out like it was the only meal he had all day. And I enjoyed every minute of it. It was life and I would do it all over again. He lifted up from my peach and my juices fell from his chin. He made my legs shake as if my entire body was being shot up by a machine gun. If I wasn’t scared that all African men had aids I’d let him put holes through me… But for this night only I let him taste it. I came, for the first time in my life. It was remarkable. 

He helped me down and begin to button his shirt back up. I giggled at the silky cream that lived in his beard and I felt like a kid instantly. 
    “Wut? Wut are yuh laughing at?” 

    “Your chin…” I pointed and he laughed with me. 

    “Yuh see whatchu did?” He kissed my forehead and I felt like his baby girl. 

We made our way back into the hookah bar where everyone was a tad more tipsy than we left them. I tried coming back like nothing ever happened but my balance was slightly off from all the excitement. We sat down and engaged decent conversation while the party stayed distant. 

    “So… When yuh go back to America. Will you have a boyfriend? Because I can be your overseas boyfriend. Just never forget me.” 

    “Uhhh. I have a boyfriend, kinda.” My drunk ass didn’t know how to respond. 

    “What if he gets you pregnant when you get back? Will he be able to take care of the baby, and you of course?” 

    “Yes. I believe so.”

    “How will he do it?”

    “Tattoos and his music.” I answered and even I wasn’t convinced. 

    “Pssh. He can’t get by with that! In ten years I will be rich. And I can take care of you. I will be rich sooner if God allows it.” He tried so hard to convince me that he was the one for me to marry. But I denied him and kept it real with myself. I have to go back to America and tend to my old life… But I didn’t have to go back to a douche bag. We ended our night holding hands all night and caressing each other in the back seat. As we approached the hotel we stayed in. Akin opened the door helping me down to the ground. He handed me the diamond bracelet from his own wrist and kissed me one last time. That was the last time seeing him in person. We left for America the next morning. 

Although I partied with my girls, somethings I kept to myself… Kisses.  

Moral of the story… LIVE IT UP like it’s your last day on earth. 

Your cheating boyfriend will still be cheating when you return. TRUST ME. Take that chance, and let him taste it. Thank me later. 😝
Ahh, Africa was fun… 


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