For Women Who Want The Ballerific Life!
Score A Baller: Lesson 6
Part 1: What We Throw Out as Bait, Determines the Fish
It’s so typical to meet a chick “in da club”, so much so that none of them stand out because they all are pretty much running the same game. We all have seen the thirsty chicks waiting in front of the velvet ropes trying to weasel their way into the VIP area, and then once they do get there, they exaggerate all of their movements and turn up their sexiness so that they can get noticed. These scenarios are already perceived by ballers before you take your first breath in the VIP area. The majority of them have been given the rundown on the type of chicks that do this by various teammates, mentors, and even coaches. So needless to say, these scenarios are a no-go unless you’re trying to get wife’d by a baller. Just think about it, what do you think your saying indirectly when you show up with your breast hanging out barley covering your nipples, wearing pants so tight that you will probably develop a yeast infection by the time you leave the club, and your guzzling down a bunch of vodka—all the while trying prancing up and down in some athletes face?
If you want to keep it 100, you pretty much told everyone there at the club, including your targeted baller that you are classless/horny/drunk and who is dying to get back to his room; this illustration definitely doesn’t read “wifey-material” at all. Before I signed up for the “Introduction to Being a Classy Woman:101” class, I was in such desperation to get back in the dating game after being hurt by numerous men that I lost any self-morals and etiquette that I once possessed. I remember being in Miami living it up in the South Beach nightlife. I had on the worst outfit in slut history! It was an all tube top that I had turned to a skirt which showed the cheetah print pattern of my panties. I wore a red-too-little corset top that I could barely breathe in and I had to push my breast back in my top every 15 minutes because my nipples were on the verge of showing. I had on the highest and ugly heels imaginable that I really couldn’t walk in after my 4th trip to Wet Willies. How horrible my friends were to allow me to go out dressing like I was a pathetic prostitute.
We ventured over to Cameo, where we thought we were going to make a cameo appearance. I was actually gawked by many men in the club, and it wasn’t for the “oh damn she’s wifey let me whisk her out of this club and make her mine” reasons that I was wishfully thinking would happen; but the men were starring only because my ass was practically unveiled by the too little skirt I was wearing. My revealing assets are what allowed us an invite into the lavishly displayed VIP section. I didn’t realize that everyone there that night was celebrating a win by the Miami Dolphins. The three of us were in VIP and mad ourselves comfortably known. We danced with each other like damn tag-team strippers. I was standing trying to cool down will drinking my 10% pineapple and 90% Belvedere drink, when I felt someone’s dreads flop onto my shoulder and a huge had grab every bit of my left ass cheek. By the way he smelled I knew he had money because he was wearing my favorite cologne for men, Bond no. 9. I smiled.
“You like whatchu feeling” , I said. I grabbed on to my ass a little tighter and stood a little closer sending all types of chills down my body. I was already excited and ready to f*** this mystery man’s brains out before even seeing who he was. “Ya damn right I do” he said, “You been teasing me all night I need to know what it was about”. I turned around and to my surprise it was the most beautiful black specimen of a man. His dark rich skin was glowing in the minimal light of the club that was cascading off the diamond chains that adorned his muscular chest. Davone Bess was probably the most beautiful man on the Dolphins before Reggie came along. I wrapped my arms around his neck allowing my fully erect nipples to sit upright on his pecks. He looked down and laughed, as he was aware of the passes I was making. “Oh that’s what it is” he said looking down at my breast. I smiled and he grabbed my hand and led me out of the VIP, taking me to his car. He was a complete stranger, I didn’t ask where we were going, I didn’t tell my girls I had left, I just did as he directed. I assumed he was taking me to his house, but to my surprise we ended up at some half-way-decent hotel on Collins Ave. I should have known walking into the lobby that he had no intentions of dealing with me after tonight; he couldn’t even take me to his crib for Pete’s sake! But in the naïve and irrational way my mind seemed to process things I dismissed my intuition, and as compensation I told myself that he probably was just too tired to drive all the way back to his house. We get to the room, and he kicked off his shoes and laid back on the bed as if he was a king. I was confused as to what the next move was. “Soooooo” I said vexed at the situation. “What you mean so, take my f****** pants off” he said. Of course I did just as he said and took off his pants. I removed everything from the waist down because for some reason he wanted to be completely naked. He grabbed his limp penis and stroked it in his hand. “I ain’t hard yet so you gon have to put in some work “he said signaling me to get on my knees. I licked the palm of my hand and stroked his d*** as I licked the head of his penis. I could feel his d*** lengthening as I moved my hand up and down. I Guess he grew impatient with me and my techniques, he grabbed my head and maneuvered his pelvis upward shoving his d*** in my mouth. I think he was trying to make me gag, but since I don’t poses gag reflexes it only frustrated him even more and the forcefulness began to get worse. I made a bunch of noises hoping it would stimulate the audible sound effects he was desiring and he eased up and began letting me guide my head up and down so that I could give him head the way I knew how. I stopped and hoped on top of him grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as if I was gearing up the saddle on a wild stallion. I started swaying my hips slowly and seductively when he grabbed my waist locking his fingers in place and he pulverized through my walls in the most excruciating and agonizing pain I had ever felt during sex. At this point, I was no longer wet because there wasn’t anything about this moment of sex that was pleasing. He threw me off of him and demanded that I get on my knees. I did just that. I grabbed my hair, pushed my back down creating a deep arch and shoved his d*** in my ass without warning. It seemed the louder I yelled the more enjoyment and pleasure he gained. My body shook furiously because I was in so much uncontrollable pain. The pain was so terrible, that I didn’t even know he was done, until he pushed me over so that he could lie down and go to sleep. I crawled my way under the sheets next to him and just lied their stiff and sore as he snored the entire f****** night. The next morning I woke up to him washing his balls and getting his clothes on, I asked him if he wanted to link up for lunch later and he said no. I tried to exchange contact and he declined. As he was walking out the door, I said you’re not going to wait to take me home? My eyes filled with tears as I saw his mouth positioning itself to say “no” yet again. “I don’t get it” I said as I began to cry. “What the f*** don’t you get? What you think I was going to take you out and shit” he said. “Yea” I responded. “Oh so you think I was going to pull yo ass out the club, take you to a hotel, and fall in love with you huh” he said as he laughed. “I mean what the f*** did you think this was? You let me grab on ya ass in the club, take you to a hotel and f*** the s*** out of you, and I don’t even think I remember your name”. I cried even more as he walked out the door, because my dreams of telling my girls my NFL happily ever after wouldn’t happen. He was right I set myself up for failure. The attention I was seeking was indeed the attention I got. If I had graced myself with a little class and poise I wouldn’t be laying in this disgusting bed crying my eyes out. The Lesson It’s all about how we carry ourselves. If we dress like hoes and sluts we will get treated as such. We absolutely cannot take on the victim role if we are seeking such a negative stigma on ourselves. The way we look, dress, act, position ourselves in certain situations, and even the friends we are seen with says an absolute lot about who we are as women. We can’t possible expect these ballers to be our Romeo’s if we come to theses outings where these men are looking like we reside at a whore house. In no case should we elude anything less than what we are to these men, because in the end they too are fishing in the same pond and the bait that we set will determine the type of fish we catch.