Caesar is Black

Dope Game in the Dope Game

Category: Tales

Free Dive

If I told you that you could have the depth and connection that you wanted with your definition of a FLY chick, and she were to give you all the emotional and physical fulfillment that you desire, and you could get all of that by spending a few hours with her that passed with ease, you would jump at the chance.

If the thought of that makes you excited then you probably should look to understand Game.

Best illustrated with an example.

Wake up at 3pm and it’s Sunday and shinning and I’m piecing together the strings of last night from the empty bottles and roaches that are all around my flat.

As best you can recall it had involved lots of Whiskey at an after party spot in the Valley where I had run in to the definition of cool and sexy and silky smooth vixen sista who was speaking other languages in my ear and enjoying me until the early morning.

Now she was just a Vision and I headed out to grab food. I hit the local corner spot, dap up the Older Gs that are posted, and grab a breakfast sandwich. Throw down with the cats and Spit Game as per usual before rolling off back towards the spot.

Then I see Another Vision.

This girl, different from the first, but still exactly the Type. Seated, bench, kicking it on her phone.

Funny how life will throw you a good roll like that.

So of course I go talk to her.

Circle back, sit down. Check my phone. She looks over. I turn, say hi, tell her to take off her headphones.

But she’s too much energy full in the face and my usual stuff just goes out the window so I just Go Direct.

She’s flattered. There’s an accent. I grab on that. Of course it is French. And She’s French African. I break out a bit. But slowly, letting her pick up the pieces.

The questions start coming.

“How do you speak so well?”

Vague answers. She asks some more. I throw her a few bones. She’s fully in to this now.

“Why did you come talk to me?”

“Who are you what are you doing here?”

It goes on like that for a while.

I tell her I want to take her out. Tonight. I’ve got to leave the next day for business. We exchange numbers.

She asks if it’s a date and I tell her we are just hanging out. “No pressure”

She doesn’t like dates. She just had a bad one the other day. Guy was a terrible kisser.

This is a wide open shot and I’ve been hitting from range all day.

“I hate when that happens, but are you even a good kisser.”

She looks at me funny. We’re pretty close at that point. She opens up and I reward her for it. Pull back early. “You’re decent.” She goes for some more. Pull back again.

Then she is a bit amazed that it even happened. She says as much. And she bolts. She’s drops a “nice to meet you” and dips.

Things were going so well too.

I’ve got her number though. And when I get back to my spot I’ve got a text from the First Vision From Last Night. We circle around making plans. It gets later.

So I Call the girl from the bench. No answer, message, “yo it’s me from earlier, I’m still trying to take you out, hit me back if you get this and we’ll get dinner.”

I think it’s pretty Cold at that point.

The homies come through to blaze up and kick it while I’m in town.

Then my line goes off. She’s calling me back.

I answer. Of course the bros are trying to throw me off but I’m Smooth and Collected. Always.

She can’t believe we kissed earlier. She wants to go out. I tell her that we’ll do dinner at 8. She says we will meet at the bench. “Where we kissed.”

It is on.

Time comes around. I throw back some 12 year and post. She calls again. She’s at the park. I roll down and of course everything is straight edge. I am the picture of fly and she is as well.

She was fly before, but now it’s dress out, hair down, and it is Extra Fly now.

I’m low key playing it conservative and go for the double cheek kiss. But she goes in for more and that’s pretty much that.

Dinner is for us to enjoy. The spot is nice. The atmosphere is double nice. The owner is comping me a bottle just because he understands how Fly this girl is and how we are delving in the Night.

Topics range as the Conversation and the Wine flows freely. Three courses later and we are both full but light at the same time. The sign of a good meal. We walk back to the spot.

Upstairs things escalate quickly. She was Extra Fly with the dress but with out it she is the Most Fly.

Later after we are both worn out, she lays on me and we talk about life and love and the connections that once strangers can make.

“I just met you today but I feel like you know me so well.”

Dealing with Ratchets

The thing is that I like fake nails on my back. This wouldn’t be the first or the last time. But the thought was just crossing my mind that I might as well give in to some of my baser urges.

It was always the ones that were going to cause trouble. Just pulling in these things for fun and then end up all enjoying riding certain highs a bit too much.

So that’s back to the nails thing.

I over debating it and just enjoy things for a bit. Not think about all the other possible complications. She talked a lot. Along with the nails. Lots of talking that I’m mostly not paying attention to. Snippets of gossip about her cousin who just stepped out on her man cause he was being a down low bum and fam was just tired of that. Throwing out a few choice questions and what not.

Girl things basically made for the gossip. It’s nails and gossip. And tattoos.

Choices maybe not always so great on my part. Earlier, choice to head out, late because the homeboy wanted to run an errand. Errand turns out to be picking up something off his cuzo. Who happens to be having a bit of a party.

Then of course choice to stay and hang out and maybe a spliff or two before leaving. Turns in to intros and meet so and so. Then choice to head back to the spot with a few old friends and some new ones.

And of course little ratchet shorty is feeling your boy.

Now usually I appreciate the girl that can hold work and also has a bit of a wild side and things. But I also know that there is a certain kind of girl that is more likely to have an ex that may or may not have dodged a case. So I slide digits and fend off a few advances and go to take my ass to bed.

But then there she is talking about tired and there was still some more tree that she had so why don’t we head to my room and smoke it. Then it’s nails and tattoos and gossip. More ink than I would have thought. But we smoke her stuff and also some of mine and then laid out on the bed to chat. And of course there is a choice to not just catch it if she is throwing things around like that.

Rhetorical Questions

I’ve been seeing a lot of some basic questions recently.

A good example.

Where to find all the fine sistas?

The thing really is knowing where to look. A lot of these questions are followed up in a way that shows who has table stakes. Not having been to Africa, is one of the good ways to still have questions about where to find fine chicks with melanin.

The old excuses were that it was far and exotic and didn’t have paved roads. Unfortunately everyone who wrote those books has been dead since the 80s, and the continent is nothing like you see on TV.

Put it this way, I sent my boy some pictures of recent escapades. And he was asking me if I was in the A.

Outside of appearance the girls are way off though. There is a little something called personality. Even though you’re not sure if she’s going to ask you for money half way in to bed. Keeps things from being boring at least.

Anyway, those who are interested can figure it out easily enough. It’s not that hard, but apparently talking about it on the internet is a bit taboo. At least, I couldn’t find much info about the low downuntil yours truly put it up for public consumption.

Tempted

The girls in Ghana are thick in all of the right places. I had been enjoying the lithe girls of the surrounding Francophone countries but now was a time to indulge.

The driver had recommended an area in Osu where he said a good drink and some fly girls could be found. Somehow we had gotten on the topic of Dancers. He wasn’t big on the local populations abilities. His advice had been to go to the club. For the fine girls, more money was to be had there than up on stage.

I wanted a drink and some female company regardless, and it was late enough that I was open to persuasion. He dropped me at the spot and sped off. Inside the music was going and the place was already packed. I had finally gotten the message that stepping out before 2am was counterproductive unless you had an early evening move. By now though, the spot was humming and I hit the room.

My English if anything was rusty. A few weeks working my mouth in a romance language will do that, but the girls were easy going and I chatted up the room as I went to get my drinks.

Eventually there were some that hooked in at the bar. Sort of affiliated group of younger girls. Dressed for a night out on the hunt.

Sometimes, my mind flashes out to the possible futures. They are waiting for me to make a move, but I haven’t decided if I want to try and dodge throwing down some cash. Could be easier to just pay the Cedis. I could have them both for the rest of the night and it wouldn’t put me out the cab fare to get here. I put the thought out of mind for a bit, order another whiskey and keep running my mouth.

Next Time

It’s past the Total and then just follow the road around. I drop this to the taxi driver and he pulls out of the junction. We’re headed up in to the hills of Accra, it’s late and I’m cross faded having just come back from the Center and a beach party that had more than its share of tree floating around by the end of the night.

That seemed to be the way here, and no one said anything when my host sparked up. She came and sat next to me, took her hits and passed the spliff over my way. The waves and music hit the air. I laid back and enjoyed the moment.

Only a few minutes from the spot and a bed and an even later night. The hills of Accra are filled with half-finished McMansions. They sit empty, concrete shells. It looks like the suburbs of Los Angeles are going up in the outskirts of Ghana’s capital city. We roll in to ours and hit the gate. The lights flood the courtyard. I follow her around back and she opens up the back door. Except for us two. There is the offer of mangoes but really it’s just her excuse to get me in to her room and close the door to the empty house.

The taxi driver slowed and flipped on the car lights. Checkpoints. Par for the course at this time of night and on the way in to my hood. He says some stuff in Twi to the driver. Our driver laughs and the cop waves us on.

Nightmare on U Street

It’s a crisp fall night and I roll out the subway stop and hit the street sparking up. It’s my favorite time of year in Chocolate City. I’m sharp, the air is sharp I yell out to no one in particular “I’m young and pretty and bout to make a million dollars.”

Dinner at Zaytinya goes smooth. The deal is about to close and the home stretch is in sight. My words from early are prophecy. Another round for the table and then I will hit the night to celebrate on my own.

Pick up the check and chat up the fox posted at the bar.

See off my clientele and light up another to full enjoy the scent of fall. A vision goes by and we exchange some words, something more about the night ahead calls and I crunch her digits for later.

Order a car and head off in to the night.

Hit U Street like a slug to the chest no vest. Make friends in Lost Society. Drinks are cheap and flow fast. Chop it up with some of the folks. Things are working but I need some more action to get in to.

Bounce out and around the corner to Cloak and Dagger. Make my way around. A group with something I like. The feeling is mutual. Some words to friends about this and that. Hitting the usual keys. Hit some other keys with them in the back.

My mouth is flowing gold.

We bounce out and downstairs. Tropicallia has an easy door. Inside it’s hot and the music is blasting. We find a corner and hit bumps as the place steams up.

Things are getting interesting with my girl. We’ve only exchanged a few words all night, but they are choice. I’ve been playing through the group most of the way. I ask her if she wants to break to burn a spliff. She is game.

We hit the night and the air is cool again.

Long Lines in Tokyo

In the course of a life well lived, you’re going to reach some points where the only way out is through.

Around this way you know that I’m a heavy advocate of long flightsand long lights.

So there is always going to be a case where you wake up to roll off a plane and have to hit the ground running because you’ve switch 6 time zones to land in the middle of a night out with the homies.

This was one of those nights. I had fallen asleep halfway through the flight over after downing a few whiskeys and was just now waking up to a spliff on a rooftop in Roppongi. Needless to say we were rolling hot.

It took me a bit to get my bearings, but nothing a few hits couldn’t fix. I’m just along for the ride on this trip, and delegating all plans to the ground team. The homies have been running here for a minute and have got the city dialed in. One perk of cultivating an international network is that you can drop in to any city and be in the mix without issue.

We head out and hit the night. It’s late but still early goings. Rain from earlier giving the streets neon reflections. Hopping the train, the mix is business and pleasure. You’ve got the suits headed home, and the night crew headed out. Two worlds passing each other briefly in the early night.

Hit the door and get pushed around the line. Up the stairs in Shibuya and we’re in the middle of it all. It’s packed in the spot. Someone hands me a shot and then another. I buy a round, we’re all kicking it and having a good time. Throwing back on old times when we were younger and more reckless.

A minx and her friend roll by and get pulled in to the conversation. They’re with a group over there, we’re with a group over here, eventually everyone is chopping it up and I’m vibing with a shorty. Her English is bad and my Japanese is nonexistent, but we’re making it work. She’s on the edge of bad, but trying to hide it. No fronting with me though and eventually I get that side out of her.

My crew is bout to bounce so I grab her digits and tell her we are headed back to Roppongi. If she ends up that way, she is always welcome to fall through.

It’s later but still early. We fuck around outside the club smoking grits, then hit a late night ramen spot. Our group is on one and the energy is contagious. We pick up some expats and everyone heads out to the next spot. Somehow cop a cab cross city and hop out to head down to the new club. We roll down to the basement and place is packed again. More shots come our way. Host posts us up at a table.

The expat girls wander off and a group of locals replaces them. Everyone wants to know where we are from and what we’re doing here. The question on everyone’s mind is how the gaijin are this connected.

I get the ear of another girl. This time the English is better. She’s seen my side of the world before, open to new experiences. This one is actual trouble and doesn’t hide it.

There are offers of some substance, and the home boy rounds up the crew and the night’s additions and we head back to the spot. We’re in our element at this point. It’s back to old times, everything running together on the glass table top of the apartment.

Shawty from Shibuya hits my line. She’s in the area and wants to know if we’re still out. Not out, but still up. She gets the invite back to the spot. Her and her friend roll through. Nothing going on seems to surprise them, so they get lined up and join in.

People start to drop off. The sun is coming up as the rest of the crew pairs off or dips out to pick up on some pre-work.

Roll another spliff and split it the last line. Then pick up business where it left off.

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