mall dolphins

Las Vegas: collected questions

1. Las Vegas is full of casinos. Each one seems to have most of: a theme, a casino part, a hotel part, and something like a mall. 

For instance, here is a mall in a Venetian themed casino. In case it is not clear, it is inside, and all of the walls are decorated to look like buildings, and the ceiling is painted as the sky and there is a real canal with gondoliers in the middle of it. The ‘buildings’ are actual stores—mostly of the normal mall variety, e.g. Victoria’s Secret.

Why are there only malls like this in Las Vegas? If this mall in a normal city, would it be less successful? I presume it would be cheaper, and it would stand out more relative to the surrounding options (within walking distance of this Venice mall there is a Roman mall and a French mall and a New York mall, not to mention dolphins to swim with and a fake volcano to go off and so on). Do the other things outweigh those?

2. Why are there ‘oxygen bars’ on every corner here, whereas approximately none anywhere else I have ever been?

3. Here is part of a Roman themed mall. Is this kind of thing more expensive than usual mall decor, or is it mostly just considered less tasteful if there is no particular excuse for it?

(picture)

4. Why are jello shots so cheap?

5. Why are gambling machines so hard to use? I actually couldn’t be bothered trying this time, even though I must have walked past many hundreds of them, because the other time I went to a casino was so annoying. Shouldn’t gambling machines be catering better to the short time horizon demographic? If they just had a thing I could spin and money might appear, I might have tried it, though I guess only for long enough to experience losing money gambling, in case that is an important human experience or something, so maybe I’m not the right demographic anyway.

6. Is it really profit-maximizing to make a person walk past a gagillion gambling machines before checking in? I think it made me less like to gamble, because by the time I found my room I had a headache, and its not like I was going to stop with all my luggage on the way to the room because I need to gamble so urgently. Do people with long enough time horizons to learn to gamble really not want to put their things in their rooms first?

7. Under what circumstances do people actually get married here? There are a lot of chapels, and they seem pretty nice, so I guess it is a thing. And it is a thing in TV shows. But are they the same thing?

8. Why are the prizes advertised on all the gambling so small? They are often $1000. Isn’t the point of this kind of gambling—even when it is negative in expected money—often that it gives a person a hope of greater things than they could otherwise dream of? Surely this is almost nobody’s only ticket to dreaming about having $1,000. 

9. How do we make our own ceiling look like the sky?

10. Why does gambling always go with lots of noise and bright lights? Are they better together for some reason? Why isn’t there a peaceful library themed casino? Did I just not notice it?

Camila Cabello: "Our Dreams Were Bigger Than Our Fears

Beautifully written by Camila herself 👍

——

A bus. The yellow lighting of the gas station against the dark hours of midnight. Fast asleep. Silence. My head slumped over my mom’s shoulder. Her voice timid and hesitant as she stumbled through a sentence in English at the cash register. A Winnie the Pooh journal. These are the things I remember when I think of when my mom and I immigrated to America.

I was almost 7 at the time, born in Havana, Cuba. My papá is puro Mexicano and we lived back and forth between the heat of Havana and the concrete jungle of Mexico City. I didn’t realize it then, but, boy, does it hit me now. I realize how scary it must have been for them. For my mom to leave the streets of Havana where our neighbors were our friends, where we gathered every holiday to eat pork and my grandma’s rice and beans, to not hear the malecón and the heartbeat of her city pulsing with every crash of the wave. For my Dad to leave behind his four brothers and sisters, the memory of his parents, the street vendors selling the elotes con mayonesa that I would beg him to get in the mornings before school, the best friends he’d grown up with … everything. To decide to start from the ground up.

With a couple hundred dollars, the clothes on our backs, no family in the United States, and no clue of what was going to happen next, that’s exactly what we did. Like my mom said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stay here.” And that was enough.

Why were we packing up our stuff? Why was my grandma hugging me tighter than usual? Where were we going? “We’re going to Disney World!” That’s what my Mom told me when we were crossing the border. She packed a little backpack with my Winnie the Pooh journal and my doll, and we crossed the border from Mexico to the US, seeing my Dad become an ant in the distance as he stayed behind.

Just Disney World. Whenever I have to make a decision now and I’m afraid, my mom always reminds me of that day. “That day, I knew if I thought about it, fear would make me turn back. That’s why when you’re afraid, you force yourself to jump. You don’t think, you just jump,” she says to me.

After she sat down with the immigration officer in a tiny office, we and a bunch of people from other countries with similar hopes were placed in rooms with tiny beds in them, a hotel full of these rooms. It was me and my mom and two other families in a little room waiting for somebody to come in and let us know if we were going to be granted permission to enter the US or be sent back. Some people spent days there, some spent weeks in agonizing anxiety over what the answer would be. Meanwhile, I was wondering when the heck we were going to get to Disney. We were there only a day when we finally got the news. The room bursted with joy, everybody around me clapping and hugging and screaming and crying! And me yelling out “Yay! We’re all going to Disney!” Little did I know.

Little me and my mamá ended up on a Greyhound bus to Miami that took 36 hours — that’s where I have my most vivid memories. Other stuff I vaguely remember and know from stories my parents told me years after. But I remember writing in my Winnie the Pooh journal a lot on that bus ride.

We got to Miami and moved into my grandpa’s colleague’s house who later became my godmother. My mom was a very good architect in Cuba, but when she came to America none of the degrees she earned in Cuba counted, so to make enough to keep us fed and put me into school she began stacking shoes in Marshalls and going to school at night to take courses in English, all while taking me to and from school and helping me with my homework all by herself, alone in a strange country. I can’t imagine how frustrating it must have been for her to have worked her whole life in architecture and then have it all erased when she came here.

One day, as if God was listening, two elderly Cuban women were conversing with her and told her: “Oye, tu estás muy bonita para trabajar en Marshalls. Where are you from?” My mom told her the story of how she was Cuban and she was actually an architect. You wouldn’t believe it, but the two Cuban women said they had a brother who worked in architecture and needed someone who worked in Autocad, a complicated architectural computer program. They asked her: “Do you know Autocad?” Internally, my mom was like “Autocad? What the hell is Autocad? We use pencil and paper where I’m from.” But to the ladies, she said: “Autocad? Of course. Yes, of course. I can do that.” She learned how to use the program in a week and made enough to move us out of my godmother’s house and into an apartment.

She learned fast because she literally had to in order to survive. Immigrants have one thing in common: Hunger. I don’t mean it literally, although that’s true too, but metaphorically. The hunger to do the impossible because you have no choice, because you came too damn far, because you’ve known what struggling is, and you’re not going to take an opportunity for granted. The hunger and ability to win above people with better circumstances than you simply because you want it badly enough.

Long story short, my papá came over from Mexico a year and a half later — I had a little calendar in my room counting down the days — because he couldn’t stand being away from us. He went through such hardship to cross the Mexican border and had it harder than my mom and I did, literally risking his life for his family to physically make it here. When he first came to the US, he started off washing cars in front of Dolphin Mall in the blistering Miami heat. But we kept moving on up … with the Latin community in Miami, helping each other up as we did it. Slowly and slowly my parents kept working and climbing and ended up forming a construction company together named after my sister and I. They always pushed me to focus on my studies because the whole reason we came here was so my sister and I could have better opportunities in life than they did. They said: “Money comes and goes, but your education, lo que tienes aquí (and they would point to my head while saying that), nobody can ever take that away from you.” They let me know that in order to go a good college I had to get a scholarship, so I worked as hard as I could. However — plot twist! — that didn’t quite go the way we thought it would.

You see, in 9th grade, a little girl who had never sung in front of people before asked her parents if they could take her to Greensboro, NC, to audition for a little show called The X Factor. Yikes! I had never sang in front of people before. Well, did my mom know Autocad? No. Did I know how to perform on a stage on TV? No. But I wanted it badly enough, and I learned from my family that if you work hard enough and you want it badly enough, you can do the impossible.

I was wrong about one thing. My mamá and papá did not leave everything behind, they brought it with them. My grandma still makes pork and rice and beans every holiday like she did, and my mom still feels the waves of the malecón in her heartbeat because she still feels the most at peace when she’s by the sea. My grandma and dad still get drunk and sing Luis Miguel in the kitchen. We found our favorite Taco spot in Miami (I capitalized Taco because they are that good). And whenever we find another person from our country, we freak out. “¿De qué parte?” Because we have home in us. Because we brought it with us. Every Cuban brought it with them and so we have Miami. Mexicans brought it and so we have the best Mexican food ever. The Italians brought it and so we have pizza. The Swedish brought it and we have great pop songs. The list goes on and on. And so, that’s why when I hear a bigoted, racist man with power and influence speak with anger and ill-will about immigrants, I think “what a fool.”

I am so proud to be Cuban-Mexican. This country was built on immigrants. People who were brave enough to start over. How strong we are to leave behind everything we know in hopes of something better. We are not fearless, we just have dreams bigger than our fears. We jump. We run. We swim, we move mountains, we do whatever it takes. And so next time, when anybody wants to tell you they want to build a “wall” on our border, remember behind that wall is struggle, determination,hunger. Behind that wall, could be the next cure for cancer, the next scientist, the next artist, the next drummer, the next anything they work hard enough to become!

P.S. I did end up going to Disney for the first time a year later.

Camila Cabello (September 14, 2016)

—–
http://www.popsugar.com/latina/Camila-Cabello-Her-Cuban-Background-42239921

Camila Cabello: "Our Dreams Were Bigger Than Our Fears"

A bus. The yellow lighting of the gas station against the dark hours of midnight. Fast asleep. Silence. My head slumped over my mom’s shoulder. Her voice timid and hesitant as she stumbled through a sentence in English at the cash register. A Winnie the Pooh journal. These are the things I remember when I think of when my mom and I immigrated to America.

I was almost 7 at the time, born in Havana, Cuba. My papá is puro Mexicano and we lived back and forth between the heat of Havana and the concrete jungle of Mexico City. I didn’t realize it then, but, boy, does it hit me now. I realize how scary it must have been for them. For my mom to leave the streets of Havana where our neighbors were our friends, where we gathered every holiday to eat pork and my grandma’s rice and beans, to not hear the malecón and the heartbeat of her city pulsing with every crash of the wave. For my Dad to leave behind his four brothers and sisters, the memory of his parents, the street vendors selling the elotes con mayonesa that I would beg him to get in the mornings before school, the best friends he’d grown up with … everything. To decide to start from the ground up.

With a couple hundred dollars, the clothes on our backs, no family in the United States, and no clue of what was going to happen next, that’s exactly what we did. Like my mom said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t stay here.” And that was enough.

Why were we packing up our stuff? Why was my grandma hugging me tighter than usual? Where were we going? “We’re going to Disney World!” That’s what my Mom told me when we were crossing the border. She packed a little backpack with my Winnie the Pooh journal and my doll, and we crossed the border from Mexico to the US, seeing my Dad become an ant in the distance as he stayed behind.

Just Disney World. Whenever I have to make a decision now and I’m afraid, my mom always reminds me of that day. “That day, I knew if I thought about it, fear would make me turn back. That’s why when you’re afraid, you force yourself to jump. You don’t think, you just jump,” she says to me.

After she sat down with the immigration officer in a tiny office, we and a bunch of people from other countries with similar hopes were placed in rooms with tiny beds in them, a hotel full of these rooms. It was me and my mom and two other families in a little room waiting for somebody to come in and let us know if we were going to be granted permission to enter the US or be sent back. Some people spent days there, some spent weeks in agonizing anxiety over what the answer would be. Meanwhile, I was wondering when the heck we were going to get to Disney. We were there only a day when we finally got the news. The room bursted with joy, everybody around me clapping and hugging and screaming and crying! And me yelling out “Yay! We’re all going to Disney!” Little did I know.

Little me and my mamá ended up on a Greyhound bus to Miami that took 36 hours — that’s where I have my most vivid memories. Other stuff I vaguely remember and know from stories my parents told me years after. But I remember writing in my Winnie the Pooh journal a lot on that bus ride.

We got to Miami and moved into my grandpa’s colleague’s house who later became my godmother. My mom was a very good architect in Cuba, but when she came to America none of the degrees she earned in Cuba counted, so to make enough to keep us fed and put me into school she began stacking shoes in Marshalls and going to school at night to take courses in English, all while taking me to and from school and helping me with my homework all by herself, alone in a strange country. I can’t imagine how frustrating it must have been for her to have worked her whole life in architecture and then have it all erased when she came here.

One day, as if God was listening, two elderly Cuban women were conversing with her and told her: “Oye, tu estás muy bonita para trabajar en Marshalls. Where are you from?” My mom told her the story of how she was Cuban and she was actually an architect. You wouldn’t believe it, but the two Cuban women said they had a brother who worked in architecture and needed someone who worked in Autocad, a complicated architectural computer program. They asked her: “Do you know Autocad?” Internally, my mom was like “Autocad? What the hell is Autocad? We use pencil and paper where I’m from.” But to the ladies, she said: “Autocad? Of course. Yes, of course. I can do that.” She learned how to use the program in a week and made enough to move us out of my godmother’s house and into an apartment.

She learned fast because she literally had to in order to survive. Immigrants have one thing in common: Hunger. I don’t mean it literally, although that’s true too, but metaphorically. The hunger to do the impossible because you have no choice, because you came too damn far, because you’ve known what struggling is, and you’re not going to take an opportunity for granted. The hunger and ability to win above people with better circumstances than you simply because you want it badly enough.

Long story short, my papá came over from Mexico a year and a half later — I had a little calendar in my room counting down the days — because he couldn’t stand being away from us. He went through such hardship to cross the Mexican border and had it harder than my mom and I did, literally risking his life for his family to physically make it here. When he first came to the US, he started off washing cars in front of Dolphin Mall in the blistering Miami heat. But we kept moving on up … with the Latin community in Miami, helping each other up as we did it. Slowly and slowly my parents kept working and climbing and ended up forming a construction company together named after my sister and I. They always pushed me to focus on my studies because the whole reason we came here was so my sister and I could have better opportunities in life than they did. They said: “Money comes and goes, but your education, lo que tienes aquí (and they would point to my head while saying that), nobody can ever take that away from you.” They let me know that in order to go a good college I had to get a scholarship, so I worked as hard as I could. However — plot twist! — that didn’t quite go the way we thought it would.

You see, in 9th grade, a little girl who had never sung in front of people before asked her parents if they could take her to Greensboro, NC, to audition for a little show called The X Factor. Yikes! I had never sang in front of people before. Well, did my mom know Autocad? No. Did I know how to perform on a stage on TV? No. But I wanted it badly enough, and I learned from my family that if you work hard enough and you want it badly enough, you can do the impossible.

I was wrong about one thing. My mamá and papá did not leave everything behind, they brought it with them. My grandma still makes pork and rice and beans every holiday like she did, and my mom still feels the waves of the malecón in her heartbeat because she still feels the most at peace when she’s by the sea. My grandma and dad still get drunk and sing Luis Miguel in the kitchen. We found our favorite Taco spot in Miami (I capitalized Taco because they are that good). And whenever we find another person from our country, we freak out. “¿De qué parte?” Because we have home in us. Because we brought it with us. Every Cuban brought it with them and so we have Miami. Mexicans brought it and so we have the best Mexican food ever. The Italians brought it and so we have pizza. The Swedish brought it and we have great pop songs. The list goes on and on. And so, that’s why when I hear a bigoted, racist man with power and influence speak with anger and ill-will about immigrants, I think “what a fool.”

I am so proud to be Cuban-Mexican. This country was built on immigrants. People who were brave enough to start over. How strong we are to leave behind everything we know in hopes of something better. We are not fearless, we just have dreams bigger than our fears. We jump. We run. We swim, we move mountains, we do whatever it takes. And so next time, when anybody wants to tell you they want to build a “wall” on our border, remember behind that wall is struggle, determination, hunger. Behind that wall, could be the next cure for cancer, the next scientist, the next artist, the next drummer, the next anything they work hard enough to become!

P.S. I did end up going to Disney for the first time a year later. [source]

5

Frozen Ice Palace Debuts at Malls Across the Country

  • Cherry Creek Shopping Center (Denver, Colo.)
  • Dolphin Mall (Miami, Fla.)
  • Fair Oaks (Fairfax, VA.)
  • Great Lakes Crossing Outlets (Auburn Hills, Mich.)
  • International Plaza (Tampa, Fla.)
  • The Mall at Short Hills (Short Hills, NJ)
  • Sunvalley (Concord, Calif.)
  • Twelve Oaks Mall (Novi, Mich.)
  • University Town Center (Sarasota, Fla.)
  • Westfarms (Hartford, Conn.)

The locations for the Demand Our Stars winning states are:

  • Cobb Dolphin Mall in Miami, Florida
  • Tower City Center in Cleveland, Ohio
  • War Memorial Auditorium at The Tennesse Performing Arts Center in Nashville, Tennesse
  • South Side Ballroom at Gilley’s Dallas in Dallas, Texas

Fifteen: Stay Down

“Copy cat. Copy cat. Don’t make no sense I can’t get nothing round you, little girl.”

“Please. Two different shades of purple. Besides don’t forget who put you on purple in the first place.”

Digging through her Michael Kors handbag LaToya felt for the matching wallet. Pulling the American Express visa card from her wallet to hand over for the cashier at NailBar and Beauty Lounge. After entering the pin number LaToya waited for the receipt and then the two walked out the nail salon. She allowed her guest first as everything in her hand was dropped in the bag.

Immediately her eyes went to the Audemars Pigmet watch on her wrist and she shook her head. Once she knew the car was unlock LaToya checked her phone and groaned. Her watch was right and it was 8:35. The nail salon usually only stayed opened a few minutes after closing, but tonight they did an extra thirty minutes.

Shaking her head, she opened the drivers door to Jermaine’s Lamborghini Gallardo, flopping down as she saw her mother smile with glee. That had been happening the whole time they were together. Eventually LaToya thought it’ll die down, but even after they met her cousins Shay and Victoria the glee was still present. Violet had been one for sure, at least her daughter thought so, but it was different seeing not only your child in one, but knowing it’s her boyfriends. The entire time LaToya and Jermaine spoke or rather argued over how much gas she should put in the car Violet smiled. LaToya had to remember that her mother knew very little to nothing about their relationship.

Remembering Jermaine’s words help LaToya backed the car out and head towards the exit. The next stop would be Hilton Miami Downtown to drop her mother off. Today was the first day she had a clear spot for LaToya and decided she’ll do a surprise trip back to Miami. Thankfully she didn’t pop up at LaToya’s condo, but instead called Jermaine hours before her  landing.

Even with today’s events between her and Violet; there was still a conversation that needed to happen. Violet explained how she wanted a closer relationship, understood how LaToya felt about her absence, but she had to point out that the absence is the reason she never had to worry like everyone else in their family. So the absence did good financially for the two, but it left a hole emotionally for the both of them. Richard’s name came up briefly. Violet wanted LaToya to spend more time with her father, of course there was an issue on that also. For LaToya it’s too late no matter how many lunches, dinner, and “father-daughter” dates they go on. Richard mentioned to her mother that he wanted his family to merge meaning LaToya come to his house one a week for dinner. Immediately she shut that down. Never had his new wife been brought up, his kids was the last thing LaToya wanted to discuss with him, and the only personal information she had gathered was his favorite car: Range Rover, favorite color: black and she figured that out because that’s all he wore and the color of every car he pulled up in, and then how much he made approximately a year and his tax fees and that was because she did some internet scooping.

Those thoughts alone kept her occupied for the entire ride to Hilton where she dropped Violet back off. This time she left the car running while she helped get bags out the trunk.

“Promise you’ll call like you said.”

“Promise you’ll call Rick?”

“Do I really have to bribe my daughter into a phone call?”

“No, but I need him to understand I don’t want to play family with him.”

Violet had no choice but agree to that. Things between LaToya and Rick will always be hard to accept and explain. One wanted something that was possible, while the other looked at the bigger picture realizing it would never be the same no  matter what happen.

“I’ll speak with him, sweetie. Just make sure you at least reach out.” 

“I will. Love you, ma.”

“Love you too, baby.”

They gave each other one last hug as she pulled the bags in one hand. When they pulled away Violet asked her to be safe and walked away. Seeing her mother walk into the hotel then disappear into the crowd of people was her chance to walk back to the driver’s side.

Easing out the park spot, LaToya picked up her phone sending a quick text to Shay informing her that she’ll be to her grandmother’s house in ten minutes. She only needed to drop off the charger that she left in Buffalo Wild Wings at Dolphin Mall. After that stop, LaToya placed a order at a Wendy’s drive thru. Looking over the screen, LaToya read over everything her self. She had to make sure there was enough food for him to get filled and that when she left that nothing would be wrong. Jermaine liked mayo while she hated it; so she needed to make sure everything was in order.

“Thank you.” Grabbing the bag LaToya, placed it in the seat next to here, then grabbed the cup with the Peach Sprite inside for Jermaine. Knowing the order was right she then drove off.

The ride to South Beach was one of many twist, turns, break slams, and annoyed looks. The city seemed fast to many visitors, but to natives it was the complete opposite. Everyone seem to have somewhere to go, either on the other side of the city like LaToya, or trying to get off at exits. Not to mention the construction sites for the building of a new interstate travel. When she finally got out the middle of the craziness a sigh of bliss left her lips.

The private gates to Jermaine’s house open with the touch of a button off the panel of his car and she eased her way back to the original parking spot. Not two seconds after her heels touched the ground, she felt him behind her. A small breathe passed her lips as she backed up against him in attempt to grab her bags from the passenger seat.

“Here.” LaToya quickly grabbed his cup, handing it over so she could have some kind of free hand to use with.

“Give me your bags, Babygirl.” As if it was natural she granted him his command.

As they walked to the house the only thing in her hand was her phone and purse. A laugh left her as she watched him lay everything on the kitchen counter. Soon as his hands were free he grabbed her. The kiss he gave was one of hunger.

Today was The first day since they got back together that they had their way with one another. From the moment she woke up, sexual tension rose around them. It wasn’t until he told her about the  plans to spend the day with her mother that she acted on him.
In order for her to be spend the day with her mother he had to let her drive whatever car she chose. On top of that there could be no security. But Jermaine quickly picked up that she laid out two deals so therefore he had to approach her again. And that was with sex. Luckily for him LaToya was ready and had been since the morning she woke up from their sexy dream. It was no secret she kept to herself during those three months and these past two week have been hell for her too. 

The first half of their sexcapes was spent in the bathroom where the deal was negotiated. First she was on the counter, her legs spread apart as he slowly slid in and out aggressively. Before she could cum good, her body was in the air as she rode him. Both caught their orgasms together. But Jermaine wasn’t done just yet. Last thing he did was  feast between her thighs. Randomly his hands would capture her nipples, pulling and twisting the piercing causing her to climax harder than before.  

The two didn’t stop until their body wouldn’t allow them to continue. Soon as LaToya caught her breath her phone started to ring, with her mother on the other end yelling about how she would be late for their day. Jermaine let her go then, letting her get dressed and keeping his two promises even if it did kill him.

“Jermaine stop.”

With her hands on his chest LaToya gain enough self control to push him away.
As of lately the house had become a headquarter for Jermaine. Security was being trained and debrief with rules and pictures. Their reasons for being on the job and what had to be secure. Jermaine only allowed three to work with him. Grey, LaToya’s own personal bodyguard whenever Jermaine was out of the loop, and Terrance and Max, two ex-army men.

“Upstairs. Lead my way.”

Before he left out Jermaine grabbed the cup and the food while she got her belongings.

Soon as she heard the door lock behind her LaToya begun to undress. The first thing gone were the six inch multi color pumps. Then the green dyed Khaki pants and white Ralph Lauren polo shirt. Every thing she removed was tossed onto the bed. Her hair was quickly pulled up into a high bun before she removed her jewelry. Jermaine watched her undress and between her and the food he didn’t need any other entertainment.

Walking into the closet LaToya tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper and plugged her phone up to the charger. She moved around grabbing her necessitates to shower. She made sure to get a pair of lace boy shorts and one of Jermaine’s FIU shirts.

“You don’t need that.”

Turning she raised one eyebrow to him as he leaned his tall frame against the door. He was serious which only made her want to laugh.

“And why not?”

“Waste of time. Especially when I’m only going to take it off.” He spoke with so much ease that she wondered what was going on in his head at the moment.

But of course she didn’t argue and dropped everything on the island in the closet. The only things in her hands were a washcloth and towel and her facial treatment.
Easing pass him, LaToya made sure to rub up against him, biting down on her lip as she listened to his low grunt.

Inside the bathroom she stripped out of her bra and panties before turning the water on. Usually , she’ll apply her facial cream before getting into the shower, but tonight she got cleaned first.

The first two to three minutes she only stood under the water letting the heat beat against her tensed muscles. Eventually LaToya begin to clean her body using the African Black Soap bar. For ten minutes she soap and rinse her body until she was content with her cleanliness.

Turning the water off she opened the shower door grabbing the white plush towel to dry her body entirely. She used her Chanel COCO lotion to lotion her body, then applied deodorant under her arms, and lastly put her MAC facial cream on. Her eyes went to the Dolce&Gabbana robe hanging on the door and a shrug fell from her shoulders. Draping it around her body she tied a knot and made sure everything was put away before walking out into the bedroom. Out of the steam, the cool air hit her skin and instantly her nipples began to grown hard against the silk material.

“Come here, Babygirl.”

Without second thoughts LaToya walked to the bed. She crawled up from the foot, only stopping once she was face go face with him.
She placed soft kisses on his neck and his bare chest as her hands roamed his body. Every now and then her tongue would dart out to lick the skin she had just kiss before she moved lower. After a while she was gripping his harden length in her palm, rubbing him as she continued to kiss him. Coming back up LaToya kissed his lips, distracting him as her hands eased inside his joggers and boxers stroking him completely.

Once Jermaine felt her he had to pick up his pace. She had put him in a fog since she walked out, but that wasn’t going to stop him. As his tongue massaged hers his hands slowly untied her robe. Once it fell open he broke off the kiss to admire her naked form.

“Take your hand out my boxers.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”
Removing her hand, she watched him and suddenly she was on her back. He grabbed both her ankles in his hands, bending her legs against her chest. LaToya wrapped her arms around herself, as he bent down until he was eye level with her glisten pussy.

“Damn, Babygirl.” He trailed a finger down her lips but never did he dip down into her juices. She made sure to tease him so he would do it back to her.

Her whimpering only made him harder than he already was. His fingers lightly touched her, but when he did she let it be known. Her hips wiggled trying to get her closer to him, but every time she moved so did he. Randomly he’ll blow against her pussy, his fingers dipping inside rubbing at her clit. When he did remove them he found his fingers covered in her juices, only making him lick it away as her pussy drenched itself more.

Licking over his bottom lip, Jermaine flick his tongue against her swollen pussy lips, her thighs tighten at the feeling of him licking her.

"Babe please.”

“Hush Babygirl. When I’m ready you’ll cum.”

“Shit,” arching her back, LaToya moaned as he rubbed against her clit, massaging the harden nub. She knew there wouldn’t be much self control left of her if he continued with his sensual torture.

Just as her climax built, his fingers disappeared. For a few seconds LaToya wondered what was going on, but didn’t have the energy to look and see. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, his tongue dipped into her wetness. His tongue drove her crazy as he licked, sucked, nibbled, and ate her completely. Within minutes she was cumming all over his face. Her body didn’t stop shaking until Jermaine’s head rose and he removed her arms.

Up in front of her, he bent until they were inches apart and brushed his lips against hers. Soon they were in the deepest kiss. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body as his hands gripped at her waist pulling her to him as close as possible.

“Damn it, man.” Pulling away, Jermaine wrapped one arm around LaToya as his free one went inside his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Cole.” LaToya tried to wiggle free, but he shot her a look that kept her still as he listened to the other person speak. Suddenly everything around them changed. Their was a new distance between them and now a elephant in the room all while Jermaine was still holding the phone to his ear.

“When in the hell did this happen, Chance?” For a second LaToya tried her hardest to hear, but there’s was no way she could make out what Chance was telling Jermaine.

“Alright. Call me.” Pressing the end call button on the screen of his phone, Jermaine dropped LaToya’s body on the bed as he got up. His phone was left on the California King size bed as he walked to the closet, his hands in his hair. 

Easing off the bed she followed behind him. LaToya grabbed her robe as she kept a careful distance between the two of them. She knew from Dubai that he could be disruptive during one of his moods. After her robe was tied she took a deep breath preparing herself for his wrath.

“Babe.” He turned his upper body, eyeing her as if he forgot she was even in the room. It wasn’t until he registered she was here that the hurt showed itself. He was never an emotional men, but now. It’s written all over his face.

“Babygirl. Fuck.”

“Jermaine what’s going on?”

“I love you, LaToya.” Her body with in shock as she heard him. Love? That wasn’t in Jermaine’s vocabulary. She heard it once or twice when he spoke to his sister, but her. No. “Tell me you love, LaToya.”

“Jermaine…where is this coming from?”

“Tell me. Babygirl please tell me.”

“Jermaine you know I love you.” She’s loved him since the moment she walked away from him over three months ago.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“Why?”

“Damn it, LaToya. Just do it.”

“I promise, babe.” Nodding he walked further into the room, before stopping and turning to her.

“Zanea just made a purchase for  two guns.”