Interlude
Jan. 13, 20XX
7713 Augusta Ave., Apt. 13
6:45 A.M.
You jerked awake to the sound of the car horn blaring noisily outside.
For a moment, you just laid there, heart racing uncomfortably fast, blinking blearily and staring uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. Then after a minute or two passed, your heart rate slowed, returning to its natural rhythm and you sit up, letting out a jaw cracking yawn, discreetly brushing your wrist over your face, checking for drool.
There isn’t any, you’re in the clear.
Before you can muster up the energy to actively try and get out of bed, the bedroom door opened and a fine ass honey stepped in the room, carrying a breakfast tray. Surprisingly, the overwhelmingly sweet, wifey, domestic gesture didn’t make you break out in hives, and your stomach gurgled loudly, even as you reached to take the tray from her.
“Thank you…”
All she did was shrug, offer a half little smile, dimples showing. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, [Your Name], and eat up.”
Without even being told, she got into bed and cuddled up against you, her head leaning against your shoulder. For a moment, you just stared at her from the corner of your eye, but your stomach rumbled again, and you said fuck it before you took your first bite of the bacon, perfectly crispy without being burnt. Then used your fork to stab a couple scrambled eggs as you chewed. Something brushed up against your thigh and you nearly choked on your forkful. You eyeballed the menace beside you but she merely cheesed at you, all her teeth showing in a grin, and held up the remote. “Sorry!”
Funny, she didn’t seem very sorry at all.
Ignoring the fact that you were giving her a disbelieving look, she used the remote to turn the TV on, changing the channel to the news. Shaking your head, you return to finishing off your breakfast, giving the news anchor only half your attention. Methodically, you ate, right to left, starting from the scrambled eggs, to the bacon, back to the eggs again, only to use the grits as a sort of additional topping for the strawberry pancakes. Rolling the hotcakes into a mini burrito, you finished them off in two to three bites, and drank some orange juice to wash it all down.
“Was it good?”
This felt like a loaded question. And you could answer it in one or two ways, nonchalantly, and risk offending her, or ask why she’s asking, and offend her anyways. Either way it goes, you’re gonna offend her.
So it’s always better to go with Option C.
Running your tongue over your teeth, you ignored the question altogether to lift the empty tray up from its place situated over your lap, and sat it on the desk next to your bed, then lean into her personal space, pressing a closed mouthed kiss to her cheek, lingering for a second longer than strictly necessary.
“Thank you for breakfast, ma.”
You were close enough to notice that she swallowed, the effect you had on her due to such a simple thing blatantly obvious with the way her pupils dilated and her breathing hitched; small, inconsequential details to people that didn’t pay attention. Now that she’s temporarily distracted, you shoved the blankets and sheets off your body, letting them fall on the bed and half on the floor as you stride towards the bathroom.
“Wait, [Your Name]! Where is you goin–”
You don’t answer that question either, merely opened the door and entered the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Not too tall or short, your height places you at a comfortable average level, you’re lean but with some muscle, a day’s worth of stubble lining your jaw that you’re debating whether it’s worth the hassle to shave or nah. Lifting a hand to your head, you run your palm to the back of your head, and give your reflection a smirk.
‘I’m that nigga.’
Some would call that thought narcissistic or vain.
You just know it as fact.
Without any further bullshitting, you take a couple steps past the sink and toilet to get to the shower. Pulling the shower curtain back, you twist the hot and cold knobs, placing your hand underneath the spray as it stuttered to life before becoming a stream. The water is freezing for a second or two before turning to your ideal temperature.
You’re in the process of taking off your white t-shirt and sleeping shorts when the bathroom door opens.
“Bruh, you know I h…”
Ignoring her entirely, you drop your draws too.
Stepping inside, you lift your face to the spray, running your hand over your face a couple times, the water working to further wake you up. When you pull your hand away, you see that she’s still standing there, staring at you.
At a specific part of you, to be blunt.
‘And some females say dudes be the thirsty ones…’
“Either you gettin’ in or nah, ma.” If she wanted to start something, she’d be the one initiating, not you. You turn your attention back to getting clean. You managed to get your back and shoulders clean before she was climbing into the shower with you.
The quick shower you’d had in mind turned into an hour long adventure.
Afterwards, you finished your morning ritual, while she flounced off to do…whatever. You heard the clattering of dishes and she was singing and carrying on, so assumed it was all good. You lotioned, moisturized, and got dressed for the day. Glancing around your bedroom, you belatedly realized that your cell phone wasn’t where you usually left it.
‘Must’ve dropped it last night when we got it.’ “Ay, Torielle…” As you stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you, you glance up just in time to avoid a plate being thrown at your head. “What the fuck!?”
“Don’t ‘what the fuck me’, nigga!” Torielle yelled back. “The better question is who the fuck ‘Big Booty Betty’!”
Although you liked to think of yourself as a somewhat mature individual, above all this ratched behavior and pettiness, you knew that your face was currently tellin’ it all. You was caught off guard, like wit ya dick hanging out in public and not on purpose. “…What?” You even gave that basic, ‘I’m a dumbass, please beat my ass’ brain dead response. And in response to your stupid reply, Torielle threw another plate at you.
“Ay! Stop throwing my shit around! You ain’t pay for this, damn!”
“You want me to stop throwing your shit around, huh? You, you want me to stop—” As if your words are some type of trigger, Torielle did exactly as you expected and feared. Like Sonic the Hedgehog on crack, she was tearing your shit up, throwing dishes on the floor, at you, swiped all your stuff off your island counter onto the floor, screaming and hollering and carrying on, making threats and accusing you of being a low down dirty dog, amongst other things.
This happened all in the span of a minute or two.
And then you had enough, especially when you saw she was going for the knife drawer. You yanked her up bodily, kicking and screaming and carrying on, and shoved her right outside. Grunting with exertion as her heel hit you in the thigh, you kicked the package left on your welcome mat outside the door, mush her hard in the face as she attempted to get close to you again and retreated quickly, slamming the door in her face just she was about to try and spit on you. Putting your full body weight it, you latched the chain, twist the lock and turn the bolt. You hear her ram the door once, twice, before giving it up and so she repeatedly pressed your buzzer. “Get away from my spot, bruh, before I call the police on yo ass!”
“You’re the one who’ll go to jail for hitting me, you punk ass, little dick–”
Immediately losing in the conversation now, you look around at the remains of your destroyed kitchen. That’s going to take awhile to get together, you knew it.
Picking up your phone, you decide to ring downstairs’ security, letting them know that you’ve got an issue loitering outside your residence. Torielle continued to act like an idiot but you focused on cleaning up, finding your dropped cell phone in the mess, and return it to it’s natural place in your pocket.
Not too long after that, your buzzer stops going off and you hear Torielle talking to somebody, most likely security, and after a little bit, you heard a knock on your door. Breathing in deep, you placed the package on a table that had survived Torielle’s short lived rampage and set down the broom and dust pan. You looked out your peephole, seeing that it was indeed downstairs security.
You opened your door partially. “Wassup?”
“Ms. Black says she left her car keys and cellphone in your bedroom.” The male security guard stated, direct and to the point. “Would you mind retrieving that for her or we can come in…?”
“It’s cool, I got it.” You had expected this. Leaving the door open a crack, you go back to your bedroom, retrieve the requested items and come back, offering it. The lady security guard is the one who takes it from your hand. “Thank y’all for coming so quick.”
And because she just can’t help herself. “You still a–”
“Thank you for your prompt response. We’ll escort her out now.” Even as he was saying the words, the security guard is forcing Torielle to move, ushering her away. “Oh, and Jones, make sure that you take pictures of the property damage.”
“Got it.” The lady security guard nodded automatically before her gaze flicked to yours. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself? It’s just standard procedure.”
You opened the door wider and gesture her to come in. Once she’s inside, you shut and lock it on reflex. Turning back around, you see that she already has her own phone out, taking pictures of the damage. For a second or two, you just stare at the back of her, gaze trailing over her figure.
“So, ‘Big Booty Betty’?”
You snap your gaze up to hers, and judging by her cocked eyebrow, she knew that you was staring. Giving a lazy little smile, you pull out your phone and dial a number. There’s the standard jingle ringing throughout your apartment. Both her eyebrows are raised now but that didn’t stop her from pulling out her cellphone; it was ringing and your number flashed on the screen. Instead of playing along like you’d hoped, she hit the decline button.
“You’re a dumbass.I can see why this crazy chick tore up yo crib.”
Stepping closer, hovering in her space, you lean your head down, lips near the shell of her ear. “Nah, she just wanted me to be her number one. Luckily, you ain’t interested in filling that position, right, Betty?” Daringly, you settled your hands on her hips.
“Okay…” With a firm grip, she pulled your hands away. “First off: it was one time. A mistake. Second, it’s Beatrice. Third: touch me again without permission and I’ll mace you, then tase your balls. Clear?”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you tamped down the urge to smirk, knowing that she meant it. “Crystal.” And you stepped back, letting her walk towards the front door again, she was twisting the locks and heading out but you couldn’t help yourself. “What if you do give me permission though? To touch you?”
Beatrice gave you a look, rolled her eyes, and left. You saw that little smirk though, so you knew that she wasn’t half as uninterested as she acted. You knew when to cut your losses too though, and for now, it was time to stop acting like some teenager with his first crush.
Locking your door for the third time that day, you sighed. Later on, you had plans to hang out with your family, but for now, you just wanted to relax, mentally prepare for the lecture and scolding your mother and sisters would deliver upon chasing off ‘another decent woman’.
Picking up the package, sent to you from your old classmate and once upon a time crush, Kymbrea. Even though it’d been awhile since you’d seen her face to face, last New Year’s Eve party, maybe, it was nice to be thought of like this.
Of course, you weren’t anything special and Kym always did little things like this for her friends and loved ones.
The contents revealed itself to be a pitch black box except for the bright red logo XR on the side. Raising an eyebrow, you opened the box and pull out a VR headset, a tiny controller, and instructions. Emptying the box, searching for more of the contents, out fluttered a piece of paper in pretty, delicate cursive, ‘I’ve already uploaded everything I knew you’d like. Happy early Christmas! xo, K.’
The package most likely was delayed.
‘Better late than never though.’
You set up the VR headset, all the cables and cords, and then put the headset on after making sure everything is up to date. If Torielle had destroyed any of your gaming systems or something of sentimental value, you’d definitely have been more pissed off, though you can admit deep, deep, deep, deep down that that situation maybe, kind, most likely, definitely had been your fault.
Never leave your phone out for any random to go snooping through, after all.
Lesser known labels and companies associated with the game popped up in front of your vision, and there was a pause, barely a breath. Then you see him: a black man, who looks horribly familiar, walked in your direction. Before he got too close, he stopped and looked at you, standing in a familiar posture, barely slouched.
…Was this…? Surely not…
/Welcome to HTC Vive, the virtual reality which caters to all your needs. Before we can move on to the first chapter of the game, we’ll have to go through the registration to make sure everything is in order. Is that okay?/
It was.
Kymbrea definitely deserved a prank gift in return for this ridiculousness. Knowing her good hearted nature though, she probably actually thought this gift was something you’d actually like. You finish up registration, verifying that yes, you’re over 18, and yes, you’re over 21, you don’t mind violence or gore, you know to take breaks and be careful of flashing lights, etc.
/So, the initial set up is complete. Some chapters will be better established with voice recognition, but can be played without. Do you wish to install this software?/
You raised an eyebrow before deciding to click ‘Yes’.
/Understood. Voice recognition approved./
The AI’s voice changed to suit yours and it admittedly felt strange. Not enough to make you want to stop checking out this VR headset, but it was just a bit… weird, kind of.
/We’re about to start your journey. Please make sure that you’ve done everything you needed to do beforehand because this chapter will be shorter or longer to suit your needs./
You answered the last minute questions, such as what you wanted to be called, your preference for your partners (male/female or otherwise), and other 18+ questions that you refused to admit got you hot under the collar, as soon as you hit the ‘Accept’ button, that’s when things for the firmly unusual.
Technicolors burst across your vision.
The AI took steps towards you and he wasn’t stopping. The saying ‘you felt your stomach drop’ has never been so literal. You’re about to pull the headset off, not wanting to test this thing anymore, wondering why, why, why would Kym do this, was she punishing you or something, trying to scare you into changing your womanizing way or something, and then the AI’s hand is on you and that shouldn’t be possible at all. You open your mouth to do or say or shout…?
You hear static and your vision turns black.
»»————- ————-««
Stay tuned for the next update of the You’re Perfect series! A new player has entered the simulation. Is that a good thing, or not. That’s up to you to decide.