I thought Tamara would kill me when she saw me sneaking out of her son's house, but no, it wasn't her who wanted to kill me—it was my legs. My body. My poor... poor sore lips down there.
Fever? Nope, that wasn’t the case, it just "hurt." But nothing a little money couldn't distract.
"Auntie..." I sighed as she slid another envelope toward me for the week.
As much as I wanted to celebrate and jiggle my butt, I couldn’t. I was suffering. I was in pain.
But no regrets. Not at all.
It was one of the best and worst experiences of my life at the same time. It’s that moment when two opposite things coincide in a situation, and this one fit really well.
"You did what had to be done... just a little taken to another level compared to what I expected, but I’m assuming you have needs to fulfill
