Episode 1. “Naughty Girl”
 
 
 
    Naive Niesha was a naughty girl. At 21 years young she was a hot mess. She was built by the gods of lust and sin and stacked like a card shark’s deck in Vegas. From toe to crown she was all that, a bag of chips and a 50 cent juice. Her tender size sevens always wore steep heels with nails that stayed done always. Body butter drenched her long thick legs colored like a dark Kahlua splashed with milk. They were always exposed for she wore nothing but the shortest of dresses made shorter by her ridiculously healthy rounded ass and hips. This was no baby fat, this was muscle made to look supple. You can tell by the flatness of her adorable navel, which like her toes and legs stay exposed as well. She flosses a 2 karat diamond in the closed door of her belly. A trophy from one of the many men she seduced with her tear shaped breast that suggested that the lobby was chilly. Most men would only glance at her face for the shortest of moments, for she had a swagger of older women who never felt the pain of loss. Some of us feel this pain early, while others don’t till late in life. It just depends on when the devil decides to look us in the face. Speaking of which, having the thickest red lips, almond shaped eyes and a short bob cut that complimented her face which was simply beautiful.
     She has always looked at men with great disdain. Figuring “they all just want one thing anyway” so she would dress provocatively and hit them up for every penny. This night she was tired of the scams and bullshit chit-chat. Tired of the corny lines men say and tired of acting like she was interested in their fictional conquest of power and status. She was tired of running from city to city, with another fake name, and another fake ID. But most of all she was tired of feeling empty as well as paranoid that the cops would finally catch up with her. On this night we find her inside of the trendy lobby of the “W” hotel on the perimeter of Atlanta, GA. She splurged her “winnings” on a cocktail dress; she bought at the mall across the street just to change things up. She sat at the bar and flirted to get some free sushi from the ever blushing bartender. She did not people watch like she always does nor did she look for her next black credit card owning victim.
     
     That’s when she met Trevor. Like a magician, out of nowhere he appeared deep inside her personal space. His rugged good looks and his smooth sense of whit laid her guard down casually. He lightly poked fun at the way she held her chop sticks for the sushi as well as teased her for still having the tag on her cocktail dress. (She was not used to being on the defensive and that made her curious) Curious enough to have a drink on him, (Which she spilled most of when he went to the bathroom) curious enough to chop up a well needed intellectual conversation and curious enough to accept a passenger seat inside of his pearl black Mercedes Benz. Off they go, into the chilled air of the north Georgian suburbs enjoying the ride and conversation until a strong feeling of sleepiness blankets her like cold sheets in a strange home. She rests her head on the passenger side glass because her head feels heavy. “Did this guy try to drug me?” she thinks to herself as she remembered spilling most of her drink while he was off checking leakage. Trevor stares at her a few seconds before snapping his attention back on the road. He then looks at his wrist watch as well as the one on the car’s radio lit up with a dim green glow. She has one eye slightly open. Niesha is watching him through thin strands of the bob cut that covers her left eye. “Something isn’t right” she thinks to herself as she watches him watching her. She plays it cool by making believe she is sleeping. Trevor kept repeating the same cycle of actions. He was looking at the road, then the clock and then her until finally tapping on her leg before speaking.
 

     “Are you up? Are you awake? Hello!” Trevor says and continues. I’m not sure if you can hear me but if you can I just want you to know that I own you now” Niesha heart stops its African rhythm as she desperately tries not to flinch during his lyrical rape foreplay. “You belong to me all night long” he repeats to the beat of the song that plays before pulling over to a gas station connected to a Waffle House franchise. He pulls parallel to the pump and slides his rough callous hand up her dress before exiting his dark tinted Benz. Niesha’s act is paying off but she is not sure of her next play. She can hear the sound of the gas nozzle pumping into the vehicle. She doesn’t want to move too much to give herself away. So she opens her eyes slowly to see what she can see. She can see a lone woman inside of the open Waffle House. She can see 2 men from behind inside of a SUV in at the pump in front of them. She can see empty police car at the edge of the gas station’s property. She turns her head slightly and now she can tell that Trevor isn’t pumping gas.

 
“He must be inside” she thinks to herself.
 

What should I do?