(About Last Week: At an acoustic show, where he'd received a rather sensory invite to attend, Obi runs into a friend from his past life.) 

She liked my indifference but missed his love and respect, but couldn’t tell the difference when kisses covered her neck… it had been a while.

And what if she was juicing her man for being around?

Oh, excuse my aura!

I wasn’t sure who I was sexing, and that stuck out like a sore thumb in my mind.

It could indirectly be all the sk**ks in town. F**k, look at this ratchet list!

I stepped back from her embrace and left the stall to splash water on my face.

“What’s wrong?” She purred, her moist breath making decisions for us, yet I knew she was wrong.

What if I were her only lover? That would make her a lonely lover.

Then again, look at this woman's attractiveness; she looked good in her backless dress. But bare back? I knew that was just stress.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I came for the acoustics,” I said, grabbing her wrists as she tried to reach for my face.

“I’ll see you out there.”

I could feel her cold stare boring into the back of my head as I walked to the door, yet even so, I knew I wasn’t ready for a ball and chain.

There's always that safety net we expect to be there, but it′s down to you making that decision.

Walking back into the hall, I could feel the firm grip of emptiness strangling the pits of my gut. A little honest loathing can be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet, I knew.

“Dacie, that was not supposed to happen,” I began when she joined me at the bar.

“Tell me which part, when you pushed me into the stall nibbling on my neck, when you parted my legs, or when you left me simmering like a geyser….??”

“On whose tab should I put the red?” The bartender asked, motioning to the cabernet in her hand.

“She’ll cover her tab,” I said, downing my whiskey and stepping away from the bar.

I left in cuffs the last time I saw her. The obnoxious grin seared a lasting abhorrence in me. Though I had to admit it was a pretty smooth setup.

Being locked up over a few sheesha pots and jealousy of a scorned man would always be funny to me, but it did happen.