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of him to say. Shakita was built extremely well and was damn sure far from being petite.
    â€œI’m okay, but I need to talk to you about something. Is there a place I could meet you?” she asked anxiously.
    â€œThere sure is. You know where I’m at.”
    â€œYou know my door is always open for you.”
    â€œThat’s what I was hoping. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Shakita hung up the phone and started concentrating on driving again.
    She lit up another cigarette attempting to soothe her nerves. Shakita hated stooping low to work for Eric, but she had to until she made enough money to go gambling again. She figured once she made it back to the casino, she could win big. She believed it in her heart and no one could tell her any different. She was born a risk-taker and that’s what risk-takers did.
    Shakita parked her green Explorer in a parking garage on Nineteenth Street NW. Eric owned The Black Emporium, which was on the same street. The Black Emporium was an upscale gentleman spa that serviced from getting a massage to having your wildest sexual fantasy fulfilled. Shakita hated to come to this place. It absolutely wasn’t for her. She was much more of a mover and shaker than waiting to play someone’s submissive whore. Yet, she had to revert back to her past in order to fix her future. She sighed deeply and then thought back on the day she first met Eric.
T HREE Y EARS E ARLIER
    Shakita stuffed her hands in her jacket as the sudden drop in temperature caught her offguard. She continued to step carefully through the snow as she headed to her bank’s automatic tellermachine. “Please let me have something in here,” she said as she placed the card into the machine. Her face quickly drooped as she stared at the screen. Two dollars and thirty cents? I can’t do shit with that, she stressed.
    Anxiety had started to get the best of her as she yearned for a cigarette. She had no more money on her, and would have to endure the long bus ride home before she would be able to smoke again. She started to stomp toward the bus stop as the cold air nipped at her ears. There was a small blue-and-orange object in the snow that managed to get her attention. She leaned over to get a closer look, and to her surprise it was a PNC debit card. She picked it up and felt that the card was still warm, and guessed that it had been dropped recently. It might not have been canceled yet, she thought to herself.
    She quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen her pick up the card. She saw no one in the area, so she placed the card in her pocket and rushed down the street to 7-Eleven. She didn’t want to use the card to do big shopping. She only wanted to make a few small purchases and throw it away. She didn’t know how much was in the account and didn’t care either. Stealing money from a regular individual wasn’t what she was into. She needed to get by for the moment. “Can I have two packs of Newports in a box, please,” she said to the clerk.
    When the total displayed on the screen, she nervously swiped the card and then pressed “cancel” to give her the pay-by-credit option. She was relieved when the transaction was completed. She placed the cigarettes in her purse and headed for the door. The blue-and-red scratch-off lottery ticket machine by the door stopped her in her tracks.
    â€œOne or two tickets won’t hurt,” she whispered as she made herselection and then swiped the card. She removed the two five-dollar Winner Take All scratch-offs from the machine and then left the store.
    â€œExcuse me, miss,” Shakita heard a man call her from behind. She presumed it was a homeless person asking for change. She was ready to tell them she didn’t have anything to spare and then be on her way.
    When she turned around to speak, her words got caught in her throat, as she stared at the extremely eye-catching man before her. She knew