Destiny James was the type of girl most people overlooked. Standing at just 5'1, she was soft-spoken, thick in all the right places with a flat stomach and smooth brown skin, but she drowned herself in oversized sweats, hoodies, and glasses too big for her face. She had full lips she never painted, a heart-shaped ass she kept hidden, and thighs that jiggled in ways that made men bite their lip when she walked past--if they ever looked long enough to notice.
But they didn't.
Destiny kept her head down at Crown University, an HBCU tucked deep in the South. She rolled with a group of girls just like her--pretty, smart, and invisible. They were all tucked under their own insecurities and trauma, blending in instead of standing out. They stuck to themselves, didn't really go to parties, and lived at the library like it was church. Nobody knew much about them except they were always together, always quiet, and always watching.
Destiny was a psych major with a minor in pre-law, but the stress of school, family expectations, and being broke as hell had her spiraling. Midterms were around the corner, and all she could think about was how tired she was of being the good girl nobody noticed.
One Saturday afternoon, after missing her third class in a row and crying in the middle of a dollar store, she saw a flyer taped to a crooked pole outside a corner store in the city:
"Free Mindful Meditation: Unlock Your Inner Self. Come As You Are."
The address looked sketchy as hell, but Destiny was tired. Tired of anxiety. Tired of always doing what was "right." She rolled her eyes and whispered to herself, "What the hell... maybe I need this."
**
The building was tucked between a pawn shop and a store that only sold durags and incense. The door creaked when she opened it, and the inside smelled like old wood and mystery. A woman stood at the far end of the room. Her skin was a rich mahogany, her hair a silver cloud, and her eyes... they saw everything. Destiny instantly thought of the witch from Hansel and Gretel.
"You here for the cleansing?" the woman asked, smiling with too many teeth.
Destiny hesitated but nodded.
The room was dim, lit only by candles. She sat cross-legged on a thin cushion as the woman chanted and waved some kind of smoky herb over her head. The smell burned her nose but calmed her nerves. Destiny closed her eyes.
"You are no longer bound," the woman whispered. "Inhibitions are chains... and you're now free."
**
Destiny walked out of that building feeling... different. She didn't notice it at first, but something deep inside had shifted. That night, when she came back to campus, she didn't reach for her hoodie. She wore leggings that hugged her ass and a crop top that showed a sliver of her stomach. It wasn't even cold outside, but the chill gave her nipples the perfect rise beneath her shirt. People looked. Boys looked.
The next day, she sat in the front row of class, leaned back, and smirked at the finest dude in her seminar--Jayceon, a dark-skinned future NFL draft pick with a smile that could melt panties. Destiny, still quiet, leaned over mid-lecture and whispered:
"You ever wonder what I'd sound like moaning your name?"
Jayceon damn near choked on his spit.
Destiny giggled to herself. This wasn't like her. But it felt good.
Soon, Destiny was saying and doing what she wanted. On the outside, she was still the soft-spoken, studious girl in glasses and curls--but at night? She was something else.
She'd spot a man on the yard, compliment his walk, and invite him back to her dorm like it was nothing. And when she closed that door, she turned into somebody entirely different. She'd strip down, climb on top, and ride with a hunger that left them speechless. She didn't cuddle. She didn't stay. She'd fix her bun, throw her glasses back on, and tell them, "You was just tonight's craving."
It wasn't dating. It was... feeding.
