I was once a good girl, then after a while, I said, "Why should we be fair to these men who are not fair to themselves or to women?" I have been in a relationship, but every time he saw a face, he would want to try that woman. I forgave him and forgave him up until I got tired of believing things would change, but it did not. One mess-up would have been enough, but two, three, four, and five? He kept going on and on. It was too much. I thought to myself, Why put up with this? I cried my pillows wet at night. I hurt for many days, weeks, and months. I even received text messages, phone calls, looks and even fake smiling faces, and his and byes by hoes he was sleeping with, and some did not even care he had a woman.

He spoiled me with the finest things in life—from Michael Kors purses, Louboutin, Coach, watches, clothing, stilettos, to getting my hair and nails done, cars, and even my favorite Coco Chanel perfumes, but even the finest things couldn't keep me happy when I knew he was out doing me wrong. I like my man to myself, and I don't like to share him with anyone else. I went to church faithfully. I cooked, cleaned, and did everything for him, and he didn't have to ask. I did everything sexually for him—from making love, to fucking hard, soft, long, sucking dick, getting that dick up, riding his ass, going one, two, three, four, five rounds, making sure I'd be the one who gets it up and puts it back on flat. If he wanted a stripper, I was that stripper. If he wanted a prostitute, I was that prostitute. If he wanted a schoolgirl, a cheerleader, a porn star, I was that. I was that freak in the sheets and that lady in the streets. I was his woman with nice hips, curves, and the whole nine yards. Yes, I was Sasha. I was whatever Tristan wanted or needed. I did it.

After some years, he started feeling himself, knowing he had a beautiful woman at home, a woman that men pray for, but I think I was too good of a woman for Tristan. He started sleeping with anything and everything that walks, and some of the women that he slept with made me check myself twice a week and not every three to six months. It just made me sick to my stomach, and of course, Tristan had a story to tell—he didn't mean to sleep with her or he thought the ugly hoe wouldn't open her mouth. Yeah right. My name is Sasha, not a dumb bitch, because even a trash can hoe can't hold ice water. She'll drink it up and swallow the ice whole before it can even melt. That's how thirsty those hoes are, but enough with those hoes. Let's get started on Sasha and how her life changed.

After exploring life watching others, from married men, men with girlfriends, to single me, just watching the actions of people and how their lives are filled with lies, betrayal, not trust or whatsoever, and the enemy that stands beside them, who is the best friend that's fucking the husband, wife, girlfriend, or boyfriend, I, Sasha Fire, got tired of being lonely. I started going to clubs, bars, and even on smile dates, thinking it would ease my loneliness and keep my mind from thinking crazy things (laughing out loud), but they did not. I went home by myself, ate by myself, and took a bath by myself. I even stared at my naked body, lighted candles by the tub, touched myself, sucked my fingers, and pinched my nipples, rubbing ice cubes around my nipples. I took my hand and chased the dripping, cold water from the ice down to my body and into my belly button, caressed myself with the other hand in my pussy, and made myself soaking wet. Ooooh boy, that felt good.

Days and months went by, and my girls called me up to go to this really big all-white party. I wasn't feeling like going anywhere at first, but then I thought to myself, Hell, why not? So I went shopping, got my hair done into some tight worn curls, had my nails, feet, eyebrow, and eyelashes done, and went home to get my beauty rest for about an hour. The clock struck eight o'clock in the evening. I started taking my shower, and while in the shower, I started thinking of caressing myself again, but I said to myself, "Not tonight, Sasha." Because if I'll fuck myself so hard, I'll put myself to sleep. That's how good I was, especially when it comes to making all ends meet, but I was just tired of being lonely.

I rubbed my body down with body butter and slipped on my see-through knee-length all-white body-con silk dress with my all-white thongs underneath. I then put on my clear crystal dangle earrings with the matching necklace and applied my gray contact lenses. I placed light makeup on my face and applied my ruby-red lipstick onto my big soft full lips. My phone rang. It was my girlfriends asking where I was. While I slipped on my five-inch Louboutin stilettos and walked toward the door, I told them I was on my way out. I grabbed my minisize wrist purse and my car keys and headed out to the party.

As I arrived at the party, there were so many cars and so many people and front door services. I didn't even have to park. I called my girls and told them I was out front. When I stepped in the scene, everybody was watching. My heart was beating and beating. Fine men were here, there, and everywhere. I felt like I was in men heaven. When I was in a relationship with my man, other men didn't even exist. They were a blur in my eyesight, but now, I got a look around. Yes, yes, yes. Men are here, there, oh my goodness! They're everywhere!

So I and my girls started moving around the club. I was introduced to numerous people—from my friends' friends to their friends and to just random people. I was sipping on a glass of red wine when a guy approached me and tried to introduce himself, but my mind was on the man across the floor, staring me down, with the muscles and the tight-fitting shirt and the chocolate fitted, tight body, drinking his beer and staring directly into my face. As he kept staring, he began walking over to me and asked, "May I have this dance?" I didn't even know the other guy was still talking. My ears had been put a lid on it. As the music played, we danced to the beat. His name was Victor. He worked at a refinery. He said he had no kids and had never been married.

We conversed that whole night. The time went by, and it was close to the party ending. I am a woman that does not like to stay until the lights come on, because it will be too crowded while trying to leave, and things happen in the parking lot after the club and I would not try to know the outcome. I hugged my girls and told them I was leaving, and Victor walked me to the front, but as we stood there waiting for my car, my hormones started kicking. My panties started getting wet, my nipples started poking out, and my pussy started throbbing. I knew it wasn't the liquor. I just needed my flames to be put out by the real thing. My mind was racing for some loving. Out of the blue, I asked Victor if he wanted to come over and keep me company. Victor said, "Of course."

As he got into his vehicle, I got into mine, and this stranger followed me home, into my house, and into my bed, where no time was wasted. We made love, we had had sex, and we went round after round until all my energy was gone. The time I saw on the clock when we lay down was one twenty-five, and now, as we finished up, it's 6:49 a.m. As I lay there, I thought to myself, What have I done? Then I said, Well, I am single, and he is too, and I can tell by the way we had sex that I wasn't...