My name is Samuel. A bisexual Black male fiction writer and Men’s Rights Activist living on Mash Street in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. And ... don’t trust people, especially White people. I simply can’t. Especially the White women I meet. I think the White female racist is the most dangerous kind of racist there is. They’re the ones above suspicion in most people’s minds. What gives them away? They smile way too easily. There is something so fake about White people, especially the White. "Andie smiled as she looked at the nine blank squares needing to be filled to earn a free visit.She reached for her bag to put the card away, and the fantasy of meeting Nid out of work all but evaporated when Nid gently reminded her of the fifty dollars for the extras.Andie's face flushed with embarrassment as she fumbled in her purse for the money."Oh God Nid, I'm SO sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I wasn't trying to.."Nid shushed her with a finger to her lips, and smiled.Andie handed. Not full nudity, but I could see a small patch of hair where her crotch was. The robe was still covering her breasts, but the middle of her chest all down her stomach and to the fuzzy patch, was exposed. She walked over to her stereo and turned the volume up loud enough I could hear Bon Jovi singing “Shot Through The Heart.” She grabbed the T.V. remote, held it up to her mouth, singing into it as if it were a microphone and dancing like crazy. ‘Please, please’ I kept saying to myself, hoping. "Chuck can't do shit." He bellowed out laughing as the bartender rolled his eyes and shook his head. The girl kissed Paul's cheek and gave him another hug. "Well, just try to tone it down some will ya, sugah?" She walked off to a table of customers, her perfect round ass bouncing with every step. Paul's eyes were glued to her every curve when he heard Tom's obnoxious laugh. He shot him a glare that could stop a bull dead in its tracks. "What the fuck you laughing at?" Tom stopped laughing and.