Applying Pressure

by Shvonne Latrice

“Myomi?” The recognizable voice sort of sang my name happily. “Yes, who the hell is this?” I spat. “It’s Cedric from earlier,” he reminded me, and I wanted to sink under the water for forgetting my plan to block his ass as soon as he called. However, I’d forgotten about our little exchange after a long work day, never stored his number once he’d texted me, and now this nigga had me on the line. “I see. I’m sort of busy at the moment, Cedric, so if we can speak another time like tomorrow afternoon, that would be great.” Tomorrow afternoon would give me enough time to block his ass and him not get his feelings hurt about it so soon. “I mean, I don’t want to talk long. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He chuckled it off. There he was, struggling to accept the word ‘no’ again. “I—” “Didn’t she say she was busy, muthafucka?” Another familiar but much deeper voice boomed out, cutting me off. “Who is this!” Cedric and I shouted simultaneously. “Nigga, don’t worry about who the fuck I am, just know you better get off this muthafuckin line ’fore you wake up dead ’round this bitch,” Ocean stated calmly, making my shock shift into a scowl. How one could wake up dead was a concept I couldn’t quite grasp, but a nigga like Ocean probably thought it made perfect sense. “Man, I’m not getting off of anything unless she tells me she doesn’t wanna talk!” Cedric had the nerve to say. “Myomi, baby, you better help this nigga out. He don’t know who the fuck he talking to.” “Cedric, ple...

😳😳😳💀💀💀🤣🤣🤣 OCEAN AIN’T PLAYING WITH HER AZZ🤣🤣🤣! IDK WHY SHE’S ACTING SURPRISED