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Dymon Danger
Sunday Morning
Whenmy alarmwent off,I listened to it for a few moments beforereaching out, tapping my screen until thesound ceased.My senses started to wake up, and the smell of baconcrept into the room. Throwing the covers back, Istood and stretched. Blunts,unrolled weed,shot glasses; remnants of last night were all over the nightstand. Saturdays weremy days to unwind and release the stresses of the weekend, which included going out with my boys.
Walking to the bathroom, I realizedthat I might be a little hungover from last night. One day I’d realize that I wasn’t twenty-one anymore, or twenty-six and jumping off the top of houses into the pool. Afterrelieving myself, I stood at the sink to wash my hands. Looking in the mirror, I had to blink a few times when I saw the dark purple marks on both sides of my neck.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
I dried my hands on the towelbefore walking back into the room.When I saw the hump in my bed, I remembered that I’d invited a woman back to my place.I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to rememberher name, but it wasn’t no use. All I knew for sure was that she had a cute face, fat ass, and shewas whispering in my ear how she wanted to ride my dick until I couldn’t see straight, sleep, wake up, eat, and do it all over again. I didn’t promise herwe’d do all that other shit, but Idefinitely promisedto beat that pussy into submission.
“Yo,I told your ass no fucking passion marks.” I picked up my briefs and pulled them on.
She didn’t move, trying to pretend that she was asleep. I could tell from herthe expression on her face that she wasn’t asleep.
“Yo.I know you hear me, stopfucking playingbefore you don’t get yourbreakfastplate to-go.”
She slowly opened her eyes and yawned like she’d just woken up. “You really are the dickhead bitchessay you is.”
I shrugged my shoulders.“Okay.”
She threw the covers back with an attitude. When she stood up, I saw what got my attention at first because itdefinitely wasn’tthat mouth.
“Niggas like yougon’ get enough of playing withbitches’feelings.”
Here. We. Go.
“I didn’t play with your feelings. You approached my section. Got drinks. Gotfucked. And you getting some breakfast from one of the best chefs in the whole state of New York.If you ask me, you are getting a deal.”
“If you think I’m signing anything to keep my mouth closed about fucking you, then you’d be sadly mistaken,” she spat while pulling her straps over her shoulder.
My eyebrows furrowed. “Now whywould I stop you from telling others about your great experience with me?”
She scoffed while picking up herheels, carrying them in her hands out of the room.Following her to the elevator, she talkedshitthe whole way.In the kitchen, my chef was plating the breakfast.He’d already wrapped her plate to-go andhad it setting on the bar.
“Good morning, Mr. Danger.”
Shepopped the down button on the elevator with her shoe.
Ignoring her tantrum, I grabbed her plate off the bar and walked over to the elevator, standing behind her while she lookedup at the number, seeing how much longer she had to wait.When I tried to hand her the plate, she knocked it out of my hand.It was saran wrapped, so no food spilled out.That made me laugh, because out of all the women I’dfucked, I’d never had a woman to refuse the breakfast before. That was new.When the doors of the elevator opened, my spa team was already in there. She walked on the elevator, standing in the middle, making my teamhave tomaneuver their way around her.
“Have a good Sunday,” I told her as the elevator doors closed.
“Good morning, Mr. Danger,” they spoke as they walked by me.
I nodded my headat them. They headed to their normal spare room. While they got set up, I sat at the bar in front of the plate that my chef sat out.
“Rough morning, huh?”Chef Josh asked.
Just likemy driver, Bernard, he was another older man who I respectedand kept in my corner whenever I needed a voice of reason. He’d been working for me for several years, coming to cook me breakfast every morning except Saturday.I hardly ever used him forlunch or dinner because, most times, I was at work.
I chuckled. “You see it.”
At this moment, the women I metand broughthome shouldn’texpect toomuch from me except good dick and breakfast because that was all I had to offer.I wasn’t focused onshitelse butmaking my bread. Sure, I may have broken a few… let me be honest,a lot of hearts along the way, but it wasn’t completely my fault.Ifuckeda lot of women. I wined and dined a lot of women. I cashed outon a lot of women. I flew women out. I did allthat shit, but one thing a woman couldn’t ever say was that I lied to them.
Most gossip blogs said that Iwas scared ofcommitment and dropped women when I got too close to them, but it wasn’t that. It was the other way around. I droppedthemwhen they were gettingtoocloseto me, especially after I explainedtoeachone of them that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.It wasn’t like a lot of them were bad women; I just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship.
“You need anything else? I’m getting ready to clean and go a few floors down,” he stated as he set the glass of orange juice in front of me.
