Consequences of a Temptress

A crowd of wanna-be gangsta’s was in my way, and I had to squeeze through the pack. They should have had their butts in school, instead of making comments about my backside and legs. Of course, I ignored their remarks, then continued on my way. That’s when I walked up on Ahmad. In the middle of downtown Boston, this smooth brotha was passing out religious pamphlets in front of a department store.
Usually, I wouldn’t take handouts from anyone on the street. It was my lunch hour, and all I wanted was some food, and to get out of the heat. But, this brotha was fine. Umph, dark chocolate, with hazel eyes. His smile instantly melted me—I mean, this brotha made my mouth water its own sugar.
Naturally, I had no interest in what he had to say. To be honest, I had no idea what he was saying. Inside my mind, I saw him as my man, dating, walking down the aisle, and yes, next came the baby carriage. Yes, I wanted to know him better. And nothing—I mean nothing, would stand in my way. So, I set out to conquer this beautiful black man.