Paul Stringer lives a life of chance after being sexually molested by his uncle, he must find the one thing that makes him whole again as he struggles with his identity through the lure of homosexuality. Will Paul Stringer be able to put back the strings which were torn by his uncle or continue to face the burdens of homosexuality on his quest to be straight?
The author has rated this book PG-13 (questionable content for children under 13).
Everybody in the club just do your thing, the D.J. spat in the mic. “Everybody in the club just do your thing,” he repeated, while scratching a mix-tape version of ‘Shake it all Night!’ on the one’s and two’s, “Now rock, rock, rock with me. So shake, shake, shake what your mama gave ya!” The hyped-on-Hypnotic D.J. chanted. He quickly surveyed the room. “Hey you young honey back there,” he announced, “come on up to the D. J. booth,” pointing his mic toward someone in the back corner of the dance club “Yeah, you in the yellow tight pants. Girl you got a booty that will make you say Jesus!”
The yellow-tight-pants girl emerged from the darkness. The purple, red, and blue silk waist-tie shirt hugged her slender torso and exposed her bare back. Soft, creamy, and chocolate, she continued to make her way through the crowd, placing her blue suede gladiator stilettos firmly one in front of the other. Her killer runway walk caught the attention of several onlookers.
“Yeah you, come on up. Why you acting like you scared? You got all those men drooling and waiting in line to get behind you.” Men silently nodded in agreement. A few cat calls were heard in the distance. “You might as well come on up and show everybody what you got.”
“That’s it baby girl, you doing it, come on up a little more.” Once in the spotlight with the D.J., it was easier to make out the girl’s facial features and silhouette. The D.J., on the other hand, looked raunchy in comparison. “Girl, God made Eve for Adam, but He sho’nuff’ made you for me. Sister girl, what’s your name? Where you from? And you don’t even have to tell me who you with.”
“First of all, my name is Kesha,” the girl finally said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, “and I’m from the 305, and I’m just kicking it with my home girls, picking up a few drinks and just having a little fun. We just want to bring in the New Year right.”
“Ok, ok, do you have a man?” The D.J. asked.
“No, I don’t have a man, but I have men friends.” Kesha looked at the D.J. with a sly smile.
“Can I be your friend baby?” He licked his lips, nearly touching the tip of the microphone.
“Sure, you can be my friend. You got some cheese for me D.J.?”
“Oh, ok, so you high maintenance?” He looked at Kesha as if she was crazy for mentioning money.
“Of course,” she swooshed her hair to one side, “I don’t have a real big booty for nothing. I am a for profit business,” Kesha said, placing her hands on her hips. Again, she shifted her weight in her stilettoes. “I don’t mess with no dudes unless he taking care of me. Shoot, I work off of salary plus commission.” Kesha exaggerated with a wink.
“Ok, ok, you have said it all. Ladies and gentleman, I’m going to bring you back some of the hottest music. In the meantime, me and home girl gone talk a little.”
The D.J. pulled Kesha to the side. “So, what’s up? I got a hotel ready for you tonight. You down?”
“Heck no! I don’t even know you dude.” Kesha balled up her fingers.
“But, but,” he began to stutter, “I can make all your dreams come true.”
“Can you really do that? Do you really even know me?”
“I know that you got a big butt and had a bunch of guys lined up to be with you.”
“Yeah, and so what?” Kesha lashed back.
“So what? Then you must be doing something right. I can hardly get a guy to be with me if my life depended on it,” the D.J. said, admiring Kesha’s physique” I play at Club G like every other weekend, and I’ll be lucky to get looks.”
“Maybe you in the wrong spot then, maybe you should be down there with the people,” Kesha gestured “But since you sound so sad, I’ll be at your hotel at like two o’clock.”
“Sweet, I’ll check you later.” He smirked back at Kesha.
He couldn’t wait to get to the hotel to do every evil that crossed his mind.
Welcome to the underground life of dudes with dudes and girls with girls. The dudes hang out at Club G, which is short for Gomorrah, and the females hang out at club S, short for Sodom. My name is Kesha, and my name is also Paul. By day I am a fully educated black male with a B.S. Degree in Science. By night, my name is Kesha, and if ever a dude is into finding hot guys, his best bet is to go to Club G.
Yes, I was born a guy, but for some reason, I picked up female tendencies along the way. This is not the way I was born, and ultimately not the way I want to be. I am dying for my freedom, and dying to be straight. And oh, that D.J. at the club is Jesse, one of the biggest faggots around this town. I can’t talk about him much because, well, it’s so complex. Last night wasn’t the first time I met him, and neither will it be the last.
Like I said before, my name is Paul, I’m twenty-six years old at the time of writing this, and this is my story.
Copyright© Michael D. Beckford. All rights reserved.