🔥 Condensed Milk – A Tale of Classism and Sex 🔥- EsSense of Ebony Books
- Ebz Dixon
- May 11
- 30 min read
Updated: Jun 16
Chapter One - Gullyside Wi-Fi & Helper Dreams
The Wi-Fi in Seaview Gardens was like the men, unreliable, always cutting out at the worst time, and liable to leave you hanging once you catch feelings. But Shanice had mastered the art of catching signal from her neighbour Miss Patsy’s illegal SLOW line, which stretched from a tangle of wires out her zinc fence and up into the heavens like the Tower of Babel.
Every evening, just before sunset, Shanice would balance her old Alcatel phone on the top of a paint bucket, prop herself on the window ledge, and scroll through “Real Real Tawk876”—a wild anonymous confession forum known for raunchy stories, gossip, and the occasional job post.
“Mi ketch mi boss inna him drawers wid di next helper, but guess who get fire?” one post read.
Another one screamed: “Uptown man dem nasty—dem love play poor gyal like dem a Barbie doll!”
Shanice read every entry like scripture.
That night, after her ailing mother cursed the pothole that mashed up her knee earlier that week, Shanice stumbled on a post in the “Opportunities & Side Hustles” section:
“HOUSEHOLD HELP WANTED – Norbrook area. Full-time. Discreet and professional. DM if serious. MUST have manners.”
Norbrook? That was real uptown. Like gates-and-guard-dog uptown. Like people who ate Greek yoghurt and had pool boys named Chad. Shanice’s heart pounded. She clicked the link, wiped her cracked screen, and sent her first message:
"Good night. My name is Shanice. I am 19, hardworking and love to clean. I can cook too. Please consider me for the work. I don’t chat people business."
It was half-true. Shanice did love to clean, could fry chicken like a champion, and had only told two people about her cousin’s babymother getting deported—not three.
Within minutes, a reply came back.“Come for trial Monday. 8am. Bring ID. Address below.”
Just like that, her life changed.
She would never forget the day she met Zaria Sinclair. Twenty, lithe like a Red Stripe bottle, with a 32 inch bust down weave dyed blonde and an anklet made of cowrie shells. She wore a mesh marina over a bralette, cargo shorts, and lip gloss that smelled like mangoes. Zaria didn’t walk—she glided, like uptown breeze on a rich gal veranda.
“You must be Shanice,” she said, voice syrupy and amused. “Welcome to Sinclair Estate. You’ll get used to the cameras.”
Shanice blinked. “Cameras?”
Zaria just winked.
What followed was a slow, sweet spiral into uptown madness. Weekends at secret villa parties where nobody wore clothes but everybody wore designer shades. Trips to wine bars with names like “Luxe” and “LaDiDah.” Private dancehall classes in Spanglish and waistline. And that first kiss on the back patio under a purple moon, after too many sips of Zaria’s “Freak Juice.”
It started as a job, but quickly turned into something else—something delicious, reckless, and absolutely out of hand.
Chapter 2- Real Real Wine & Real Real Tawk
Shanice had only been in the Sinclairs’ house for a week, but already she felt like she’d stepped through a mirror and into another life.
She still woke up at 5 a.m. out of habit—even though she no longer had to trek for water or share one bathroom with five siblings. Here, in her tiny but clean helper’s quarters with an ensuite bathroom (and hot water, Lord God!), she had a full bottle of castile soap, two towels just for her, and access to Wi-Fi so strong it must've come from the government and not SLOW.
But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for Zarian and her lifestyle.
Her boss Miss Sinclair’s only daughter. A walking, talking TikTok tutorial in how to be rich, bad, and barefoot. Twenty years old, always lounging in robe and fur slides, talking to herself or her three cats in patois-laced English.
Zaria had this way of entering a room like it belonged to her soul, not just her body. She gave Shanice cute names like "baby oxtail" and "lil raggamuffin" and giggled at her own jokes. Every day, she’d slide into the kitchen humming SZA or Skeng, phone glued to her hand, scrolling through endless voice notes and laughing at captions on her favorite site—Real Real Tawk876.
“You know say the man dem from East Kingston catching feelings over one likkle baby tiger weh escape the zoo?” Zaria had said, scrolling. “And the people dem post it on Real Real Tawk876 like seh is a proper national scandal.”
Shanice had laughed nervously. She read the forum too—everyone did. It was the nation’s unfiltered conscience. Gossip, confessionals, exposés, all written in messy patois and screen-recorded for generations to come.
That night, something shifted.
Zaria caught Shanice after dinner washing up, then said, “Yuh ever drink real wine? Not the ting from the corner shop. Real dry red wine. Make yuh feel like yuh got secrets.”
Shanice blinked. “Mi only drink Boom an’ Guinness.”
“Perfect,” Zaria said, already pulling two glasses. “Tonight is your orientation.”
They sat on the veranda, sipping and talking while the warm breeze danced through the trees.
Shanice opened up about her life—about May Pen, her mother’s strokes, her dreams of becoming a nail tech or makeup artist someday.
Zaria opened up about how boring her life was, even with all the money. How she hated law school. How men were mostly trash. How girls were better—“more fun, less foolishness.”
“You ever kiss a girl before?” she asked, bold-faced.
Shanice's hand paused halfway to her mouth. “No, not really…”
Zaria tilted her head. “That mean not yet.”
Then she leaned in, slow and deliberate. Her lips tasted like pomegranate and sin.
The kiss was soft. Curious. Then suddenly... intense. Their laughter turned into breaths caught between collarbones and whispered “Yuh sure?”s.
By the time Shanice tiptoed back to her quarters, barefoot, cheeks blazing, heart racing, she wasn't sure if she was still employed—or just ensnared.
But one thing was certain: somebody somewhere had already posted some version of this on Real Real Tawk876. Maybe the cameras in the kitchen had picked it up. Maybe Zaria wanted them to. Either way, Shanice knew:
This was only the beginning of her Uptown Pum Pum Chronicles.
Chapter Three – Clawz & Champagne
Shanice had only been working in Norbrook six weeks and already her life was starting to look like a RealRealTawk876 thread. She went from reading the gossip on her cracked Alcatel to s
And tonight? Tonight was shaping up to be one of those nights they whisper about on Twitter, post on Close Friends, and deny on Sunday.
Zaria burst into the walk-in closet barefoot and bra-less in a satin LaQuan Smith robe, sipping Whispering Angel from a Baccarat glass.
“Gyal, get up. Jessica keeping a ting pon di rooftop in Cherry G. Come decent. No crocus bag, mi beg yuh.”
Shanice rubbed her eyes. “Who’s Jessica?”
“Jessica deh wid Dog Tear. Him come from Gully Banks. Mi gyal full a vibes—light skin, half-Chinese, fully mad. But she love her man and she love drama.”
Zaria tossed her a fresh dress, tags still on. Fitted, black, stretchy, luxury sheen. No synthetics. No apologies.
“Try this Mugler. It hug belly and hype breast.”
Shanice blinked. “Mi cyaa wear this—mi look like mi deh pon Love & Dancehall Reunion!”
“Exactly.”
The party was at a penthouse near Jack’s Hill. It was giving soft launch for madness. There were dancers in platform Crocs, vendors selling THC lollipops, and a bartender doing backflips while pouring Cîroc in people’s mouths. A girl in gold body paint balanced a bottle of Azul on her head like a center table.
A remix of Skeng’s “New Gyal” was playing over the sound system, mixed with Doechii.
Jessica arrived fashionably late, in custom chrome leather and acrylics so sharp they could slice phone screens.
“ZAZAA! Mi gyal. Lawd God, dis a the helper? Seaview hot gyal reach!”
She looked Shanice up and down and smiled wide.
“Cute. Mi like har spirit. Like she buss shot before but still believe in horoscopes.”
Shanice smiled, a little stiff. “Mi just come fi the vibes.”
“Good,” Jessica winked. “Cause mi party full a it.”
Off in the corner Dog Tear stood like a movie villain—grill gleaming, two phones ringing, third eye twitching. Chains on, Glock peeking. Everybody kept giving him those respectful, don’t-make-eye-contact nods.
Jessica sauntered up to him and pulled his hoodie strings like a schoolgirl. “Babyyyyy, mi fren dem here. Behave.”
He grunted. “Helper waa yuh tell mi bout from Seaview?”
Jessica whispered something in his ear that made him laugh—a dangerous sound.
“Mi like ghetto gyal,” he said to Shanice. “Dem know how fi run pot, raise pickney, and keep secret. Keep good pussy unda dem too.”
Shanice blushed but didn’t answer. She just sipped her rum cream and looked around.
That’s when things turned. A woman in a ruby-red latex catsuit slinked onto the rooftop with a leather-clad man on a leash behind her. A bald girl in a thong poured champagne over their feet. No one batted an eye.
Jessica nudged her. “Mistress Firefly. Domme from Portmore. She run that secret society—The Pum Pum Pantheon. Members have to sign NDAs and bring birth charts.”
Zaria sipped casually. “Half a parliament deh inna dat dungeon every first Friday. Crying for forgiveness while getting paddled.”
Shanice’s mouth was wide.
Jessica giggled. “Last week mi see one judge calling a gyal ‘Empress Punish-Me’ while she duct-tape him to a pew an whip him.”
Then the phones pinged.
RealRealTawk876 just dropped:
“Helper from Seaview or undercover uptown gal? Who’s the mystery brownin’ caught whispering to Dog Tear at Jessica’s rooftop flex? Sources say she ‘built like ambition’ and bussing Champagne wid the Cherry G elite. Is Norbrook taking in strays now? 👀 #NorbrookNudes #SeaViewSlay”
Zaria screamed laughing. Jessica cackled.
“Welcome to Uptown, Shanice. Yuh not in Seaview no more. Round here, privacy dead and mix-up immortal.”
Chapter 4 – Brunch with a Twist
The morning after the party, Shanice woke up feeling like she'd stepped out of a dream. The house was quiet, the sound of laughter and music from the mansion the night before replaced with the hum of the city outside. The sun was high, and Zaria was already up when Shanice trotted to her room, scrolling through her phone like she owned the world—which, to be honest, she kind of did.
Zaria looked up, flashing Shanice that signature, playful grin. “Brunch time. Get ready. And remember the dress code: short dresses and barely-there wear.”
Shanice blinked. “Wait, what?”
Zaria tossed her a raised brow, her tone full of mischief. “Mi tell yuh we a go from yessideh. Mi didn’t say it was gonna be regular brunch, did I? Get with the program. We going to Club Ambrosia. Brunch is just the start.”
“Club Ambrosia?” Shanice muttered, still a little hazy from the previous night. She was starting to see what Zaria meant by 'different.' "Wait, but brunch mi know, Ambrosia mi don't."
“Oh, trust mi, you’ll get it.” Zaria winked, then flashed a devilish smile. “Just... prepare yuhself. Don’t bring no boring deady deady nuh used to nuttin energy.”
Shanice pulled herself together, quickly flipping through her wardrobe filled with gifted items Zaria had kindly passed on to her. She pulled out a tight, black Gucci dress that barely reached her thighs—perfect for Ambrosia’s “barely-there” code. A little higher than what she was used to, but Zaria was right. This night, and this day, was about letting loose, about shaking off the Seaview Gardens life and stepping into something new. She was ready to shed that. She paired the outfit with 4 inch clear heels. Nuttin too tall fi the dolly.
When Shanice finally made her way down to the living room, Zaria was already at the door, looking like she stepped off a runway. A satin dress that hugged every curve, heels that could kill a man, and sunglasses on inside like she owned the place. She looked at Shanice, hands on her hips, nodding approvingly.
“Yuh ready for Ambrosia, or yuh still acting like a fish outta water?” Zaria teased, a smirk dancing on her lips.
“Mi good, mi good,” Shanice laughed, feeling the pulse of excitement. She wasn't used to being the center of attention, but in Zaria's world, attention was the currency. And tonight, she was going to earn it.
The drive in Zaria’s GLE was quick, but the tension was real. As they pulled up to Club Ambrosia, Shanice could already feel the beats thumping from outside. The air smelled like expensive cologne mixed with something else—something spicy, like danger.
Inside, the atmosphere was electric. Low lighting, champagne bottles popping, laughter, flirtations, and the rhythmic pulse of music enveloped them as they entered. The dress code was clear—barely-there was an understatement. Women in skin-tight dresses, men in designer suits, and somewhere in between, Shanice found herself.
But the real shock came when they found their table—front and center in the VIP section. There, sitting like a queen on her throne, was Jessica—Zaria’s bestie. And beside her? None other than Dog Tear, the notorious don from the gully. His presence was undeniable, even if he was lounging casually with his shades on.
“Yuh really brought the Seaview girl here, Z?” Jessica raised an eyebrow when she saw Shanice. “You sure she's ready for this world?”
Zaria grinned, sliding into the seat next to Jessica. “She’s more ready than yuh think.”
Shanice stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. But Jessica, always the life of the party, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the seat beside her.
“Mi tell yuh, sis, you’re gonna love it here. We don’t just drink mimosas and gossip ‘bout uptown business. We live large.” Jessica winked, holding her glass high. “Mi love a good brunch, but mi love a good time even more.”
Shanice hesitated but couldn't help but smile. The energy was contagious. Even Dog Tear, the self-proclaimed bad man of the gully, was leaning back, surveying everything with that air of danger that had Jessica all kinds of giddy.
“Mi just want mi food,” Shanice laughed, but she was already starting to feel like maybe she could get used to this life.
The waiter arrived, pouring champagne into their glasses. The music cranked up a few notches, and the crowd seemed to grow louder. The air was thick with excitement, and Shanice felt like she was on the edge of something. Food was ordered and more champagne drunk.
As they dug into their food—exotic fruits, steamed fish with bammy and loads of crackers, and sipped on cocktails with Appleton—Jessica kept the conversation going.
“Mi tell yuh, this here man mi dating, Dog Tear? He’s a problem,” Jessica said, winking at Dog Tear, who smirked back like he knew exactly what she meant. “He don’t play nice, but yuh know what they say about bad man…”
Shanice raised her eyebrows, interested. “What they say?”
Jessica leaned in, lowering her voice dramatically. “The worse they are, the better the sex.”
The table erupted in laughter, and Shanice almost choked on her shrimp. She didn't know whether to laugh or to just sit there, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
Dog Tear, meanwhile, was clearly enjoying the attention. He leaned forward, his voice rough and low, eyes scanning Shanice's body as if measuring her worth. “Jessica’s right, though,” he said with a smirk. “Bad man life ain't for everyone, but when yuh experience it…” He let out a short laugh, then took a swig of his drink. “It’s like nothing else.”
Shanice wasn’t sure if she was fascinated or horrified. But she was intrigued.
“I guess mi have a lot to learn then,” she said, glancing at Zaria, who was smiling knowingly.
The laughter continued, the atmosphere getting more playful and edgy as the day wore on. Zaria kept her arm around Shanice’s shoulder, a protective gesture, as if saying, "Don't worry, I got you." And for the first time in a long time, Shanice felt like maybe—just maybe—she could step into this world without losing herself.
But just when she thought the conversation might settle, Jessica stood up with a mischievous grin. “Y’all ready for something spicy?”
And with that, the game was on.
Chapter 5 – The Spice of the Night
Jessica’s grin was something wicked, and for a moment, Shanice wondered what she was getting herself into. The whole vibe at the table had shifted, charged with a tension that was both exciting and terrifying at the same time. The music pulsed louder, the champagne flowed faster, and even Dog Tear seemed to lean in with a watchful eye, sensing something was about to unfold.
Zaria, ever the enigma, smirked and gave Shanice a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. “Trust mi, dis isn’t the regular brunch. When Jessica asks if we’re ready for ‘spicy,’ she ain’t talking about the food.”
“Spicy like how?” Shanice asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but the excitement bubbling in her chest was undeniable. She could already feel the adrenaline rushing through her, and it had nothing to do with the champagne or the music. It was the unknown, the thrill of being caught in something larger than her.
“Oh, yuh’ll see,” Zaria responded, her eyes twinkling as she settled back into her seat. “Just go with the flow. Whatever happens, you’re with us.”
Jessica clapped her hands together, signaling that the real fun was about to begin. The lights dimmed slightly, and the DJ switched to a more seductive beat, something with a slow grind that seemed to take its time, weaving through the crowd. Shanice didn’t know what to expect, but she could feel the buzz in the air—the kind of energy that makes you realize everyone around you is in on a secret.
Jessica swirled her drink and then turned to Shanice with that mischievous grin still plastered on her face. “Alright, babe. Here’s the deal. We play a little game—truth or dare, but with a twist. Yuh in?”
Shanice blinked, surprised. “Mi ain’t here for no games. Mi just came for food and fun.”
Jessica’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll have fun. And trust mi, you won’t regret it. The truth comes with rewards, and the dares... well, let’s just say the dares are a whole different level.”
Dog Tear, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward, his presence demanding attention. His dark eyes flicked over to Shanice, and she couldn’t tell whether he was watching her like a hawk or sizing her up for something else entirely. “If yuh got the courage, mi recommend yuh jump in. Ain’t no backing out once yuh start.”
Shanice hesitated, but the heat from the moment was starting to sink in. The thrill of doing something unexpected. The desire to shed her old life for just a moment longer.
“Mi good,” Shanice said, pushing the lingering doubt aside. “Mi ready for whatever.”
Jessica grinned wider, like she’d just won a battle. “That’s what mi like to hear.”
The game began with light questions and harmless dares, mostly playful challenges that involved dancing or telling silly secrets. But it wasn’t long before Jessica raised the stakes, her voice lowering in a way that made everyone’s attention at the table to snap to her.
“Alright, mi not gonna hold back. Shanice, truth or dare?”
Shanice’s heart pounded in her chest. She glanced around the table. Zaria was smirking, clearly enjoying the show. Dog Tear’s eyes were unreadable. Jessica was already eyeing her with that expectant gaze, as if she was trying to peel back layers she hadn’t even known were there.
“Mi’ll take dare,” Shanice said, her voice steady, despite the butterflies.
Jessica leaned back in her chair, thinking for a moment, then she pointed at Shanice, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I dare you to kiss Dog Tear.”
The table fell silent. Shanice froze. She had heard the rumors, seen the way Dog Tear flirted with her, but she hadn’t expected something this bold. Her throat felt dry, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. Dog Tear. The same man who had been giving her those intense looks all afternoon. The man who oozed danger and temptation. The man who was practically a walking contradiction—mysterious and dark, yet oddly magnetic.
“I… mi can’t do dat,” Shanice stammered, her heart racing in her chest.
“Yuh sure?” Jessica teased, clearly enjoying the discomfort. “Mi thought you were ready to play with the big leagues. Or maybe you’re just scared?”
It wasn’t the dare that scared Shanice; it was the man. But more than that, it was the idea of what it meant to step into this world of risk and power. Zaria had warned her. Dog Tear had made it clear he didn’t take no for an answer. Maybe this was just the push she needed.
With a deep breath, Shanice stood up. The eyes of the room were on her, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t just about the dare—it was about asserting herself. She walked toward Dog Tear, her legs trembling under the weight of her decision.
Dog Tear’s smirk didn’t waver as she stopped in front of him. He didn’t speak—didn’t have to. His dark eyes, gleaming under the low light, were enough of an invitation.
Shanice took another step closer, and before she could second-guess herself, she kissed him. A soft, slow kiss, a test. Something to feel if there was really something to this bad boy allure.
The moment their lips met, time seemed to freeze. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was everything. The chemistry, the power dynamic, the daring rush. And for a brief second, Shanice wasn’t just a girl from Seaview Gardens anymore. She was someone else. Someone who could play this game.
When she pulled away, her breath was shaky, and the entire room seemed to be holding its breath. But then Dog Tear did something unexpected. He smiled, a real smile this time, one that made his entire face soften.
“Mi like yuh,” he said, his voice low, rough. “Yuh got guts.”
Shanice wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning. But whatever it was, she could feel the heat rising between them, the fire that had been ignited in that one brief moment.
Jessica raised her glass with a wicked grin. “And that, my friends, is how you break the ice.” She winked at Shanice. “Mi knew yuh were ready.”
Zaria leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “Yuh handled that better than I thought.”
Shanice couldn’t help but laugh. “Mi guess mi did. But mi ain't done yet. What’s next?”
Chapter 6 – Monday’s Rhythm
The sharp morning light crept through the small window of the helpers' quarters, rousing Shanice from a restless sleep. The room was simple and sparsely furnished—a bed with a plain comforter, a small dresser, and a mismatched chair pushed against the corner. The quarters were tucked away behind the main house, a small, quiet space that felt worlds apart from the elegance and grandeur of the mansion. Still, it was hers for now, a refuge of sorts as she navigated this strange new world.
She stretched, feeling the stiffness in her limbs from the previous night's events. The echoes of Club Ambrosia were still fresh in her mind. Zaria’s laughter, the flashing lights, and, most vivid of all, Dog Tear’s dark eyes and the dangerous aura that had surrounded him. She sighed and glanced at the time. It was already late morning. Zaria should be getting ready for her law classes, but Shanice’s own day of work had begun.
The sound of footsteps of the other helpers on their way to the main house outside the door signaled that it was time to get moving. She quickly rolled out of bed and threw on her usual helper’s uniform—a simple blouse and skirt—nothing too fancy, just practical. It was a life of service she had come to know, and although she sometimes dreamed of something more, today was just another day.
She gathered her things and made her way out of the small quarters, walking the short distance to the main house. Zaria was on her way out the door by the time Shanice made it to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread filling the air. As she began her chores, her mind wandered back to the previous night’s events.
Just before leaving, Zaria had teased her about the kiss with Dog Tear. “Mi nuh forget enuh gyal,” Zaria had grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe dat kiss wasn’t just for fun after all.”
Shanice had laughed it off at the time, but now that Zaria was gone and she was left alone in the silence of the house, the thoughts lingered. Dog Tear. The Dog Tear. The one everyone feared and whispered about. He was a gunman, a man whose name was attached to stories of bodies laid down in cold blood and ruthless power. Shanice had heard the rumors—how he ruled the streets with a cold, steady hand, never afraid to use his weapon to get what he wanted. And yet, there was something about him that drew her in.
The thought of him was unsettling, but also magnetic. His dark eyes, the way he carried himself with that quiet intensity. He was dangerous, yes, but there was something else beneath that. Shanice couldn’t deny it. She hadn’t expected to feel the heat of desire when he kissed her, hadn’t expected her body to react the way it had.
She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She was just a girl from Seaview Gardens, and men like Dog Tear weren’t for girls like her. She knew better than to get tangled in the kind of life he led. And yet, the sensation—the throbbing in her chest, the ache in her body—was real, undeniable.
The thought of him clung to her as she went about her duties, sweeping and wiping down the counters. She’d been given Zaria’s old iPhone, a small gesture that felt bigger than it was. Zaria’s world was one of privilege, and this phone, along with the other gifts Zaria had given her, felt like an invitation to a life she wasn’t sure she belonged to. Still, it was hard to resist the allure of something more.
She slipped the phone from her pocket and plugged in her earbuds, tuning into a local online dancehall station. The deep bass and rhythm of the music helped ground her, if only for a few moments. As the beats filled her ears, she moved around the kitchen, the familiar motions of cleaning comforting against the swirl of her thoughts. The music was her escape, her way of drowning out the tension in her body, the confusion in her mind.
Zaria’s teasing words echoed through her head again: Maybe dat kiss wasn’t just for fun after all. Shanice bit her lip, lost in thought.
She had always kept her sexuality tucked away, hidden beneath layers of modesty and routine. But now, after that kiss, everything felt different. The throbbing sensation, the heat in her chest—she didn’t know what it meant, only that it was new. Something was stirring inside her, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Was she attracted to Dog Tear? Or was it simply his dangerous nature that intrigued her? She had heard the stories about bad men, the kind that played with fire and always seemed to come out unscathed. He was a gunman, but there was something more to him—something she couldn't put into words.
She found herself questioning her own feelings, questioning her sexuality. She’d never been with a man like him before, never even entertained the idea of falling for someone so... dangerous. But the kiss. The kiss had opened a door, one that she didn’t know if she was ready to walk through.
Shanice stopped her cleaning for a moment, staring out the window into the backyard. She had to be careful. This wasn’t her world. But then again, wasn’t she already in too deep?
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her out of her reverie. It was a text from Zaria: You good, sis?
Shanice smiled softly and typed back: Mi good. Just thinking.
Zaria’s reply came quickly: Mi figured. Don’t overthink it. Just live a little. Trust mi, it’s the best way.
Shanice chuckled softly, shaking her head. Zaria always made everything seem so easy, as though there was no complication in the world. But Shanice knew better. Life wasn’t that simple.
She continued with her chores, the music still thumping in her ears, but now, every beat seemed to remind her of what lay ahead. She had to decide if she would let this dangerous attraction to Dog Tear consume her or if she’d walk away before she got too deep. But then, a part of her—maybe the same part that had felt the fire of that kiss—wondered if it was already too late.
She reached for a clean dish and set it aside, trying to focus on the task at hand. But her mind kept drifting, back to Dog Tear, to Zaria, and to the question that burned in her chest: What’s next?
And as the day wore on, one thing became certain—Shanice wasn’t just cleaning and cooking anymore. She was preparing for something that would change her life forever.
Chapter 7 – Law & Disorder
Zaria was half-listening to a lecture on tort law, scrolling idly through Instagram on mute while the professor droned on about negligence and duty of care. She was in her usual seat, near the back where no one would notice if her brain tapped out for a bit. She had one AirPod in, secretly pumping slow-burn dancehall into her right ear, just loud enough to keep her from falling asleep.
Her phone buzzed. A DM.
Jessica.
The name alone made Zaria grin. Jessica was wild. Unfiltered. The type of friend who always knew which private parties were going down and never wore panties if she could help it. Always a fat pussy to feel up on a drunken night. Zaria opened the message expecting a meme or some new gossip.
Instead:
Jessica: Gyal. Me an Dog Tear planning a likkle sum’n sum’n this weekend.Question is… you think ya likkle helper friend would be up fi join in? 👀Di man cyaah stop talk bout how soft she look.
Zaria gasp-laughed. Out loud. Heads turned. She covered her mouth, waving them off with a fake coughing fit. The lecturer squinted at her, but she just blinked innocently.
She quickly typed back:
Zaria: Bitch… WHAT?! 😭😭😭
Jessica: Seriousss. Him say she look like she taste like condensed milk.Me tell him I’d let her sit on my face FIRST. 👅What you say? You think she down fi a likkle freaky Friday?
Zaria nearly dropped her phone.
"Condense MILK?!"
This was gold.
She didn’t even hesitate. She opened up her messages and started typing to Shanice.
Zaria 🧠📚:Gyal 😭😭 you will NOT believe what Jessica just ask me.
Shanice 🧼🧽:What now? 😒
Zaria 🧠📚:She wanna know if you would be down fi a lil 3some.Wid herAND Dog Tear😳😳😳😳😳😳
Shanice 🧼🧽:... 😐WAITWHATTTTTT????
Zaria 🧠📚:Mi swear pan mi auntie grave (RIP Aunt Cherry 💐)Jessica seh Dog Tear seh you look soft an sweet like condensed milk😭😭😭😭
Shanice 🧼🧽:ZARIA What kinda nastiness you dragging me into????Mi a mop di FLOOR 😩😩😩Now mi hand trembling
Zaria 🧠📚:Me seh mop and ride at di same time 😭A one lick fi wipe yuh out! Jessica seh she waan sit pon yuh face like she a claim inheritance 😂😂😂
Shanice 🧼🧽:OHMYGOD😭😭😭😭😭Mi cyaah even look pon di iPhone same way again Everything feel… slippery 😳
Zaria 🧠📚:So wait…Yes or no??? 👀👀👀👀👀
Shanice 🧼🧽:😵💫😵💫😵💫Mi nuh KNOW Jessica sexy. Dog Tear… scary sexy But THREESUM??? Mi only sex one person in mi whole life and now mi getting invited to one orgy pon a Wednesday 😭😭😭
Zaria 🧠📚:🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣Mi love you badTek time… consider itMi can ask Jessica fi send a diagram if yuh need visuals 😭
Shanice 🧼🧽:STOP IT. Mi cyaah even stand up straightMi foot dem WOBBLE Zaria mi a feel things 😩
Zaria 🧠📚:Dat's called temptation babygirl.
Next thing you know you buss it open in the pantry 😏
Shanice 🧼🧽:I need prayer
And water
And two panadol
And maybe… just MAYBE…mi might think bout it 😳
Later that night, after the house had gone quiet, Shanice lay back on her narrow bed in the helpers' quarters, staring at the ceiling. The mop was still damp in the corner. Her body was still humming, mind whirling with images she wasn’t sure she should entertain.
Jessica’s boldness. Dog Tear’s hands. Zaria’s wicked grin.
Could she really?
She bit her bottom lip, a little smile curling at the edge.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
She turned over, flinging the sheet over her head.
For now, she’d just dream.
Chapter 8 – Butterflies and Badness
Shanice couldn't sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jessica's tongue… or worse—Dog Tear’s hands. Thick, veined, dangerous-looking hands. The kind of hands that held triggers and thighs with the same deadly confidence.
She curled up tighter in her narrow bed, phone face-down beside her, as if the devilish messages from Zaria could crawl out and lick her neck.
“Condensed milk,” she muttered, scandalised. “Di man call mi condensed milk.”
She was up early, cleaning with unusual intensity. She fluffed the pillows on the velvet couch like they’d cussed her mother. Wiped the marble counters until they could blind a bat. Zaria had gone off to law school in her usual slinky, smart-girl style—lips glossed, edges laid, dropping kisses in the air with a smirk before leaving.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she teased on her way out.
Which, frankly, gave Shanice zero guidance.
She was in a daze, moving between rooms with her earpods in, Dancehall Radio blazing. The DJ was screaming something rude about body counts and bruckin' out pon balcony. She started laughing out loud when Skillibeng came on. The song felt like temptation in audio form.
Shanice found herself wining slowly with the mop, laughing at herself. “Yuh mad, girl. Yuh losing it. One likkle brunch and now yuh a imagine all kinda tings?”
But her body had other ideas. Her nipples were betraying her under her plain cotton bra, hard as glass marbles. Every time she imagined Jessica’s voice whispering, “I’d sit on her face first,” her knees twitched.
She'd always been… normal. Straight-ish. Mostly. Church-trained. Pussy prized and policed. But Zaria was rewiring her, bending her compass with every cheeky grin and careless touch.
What if mi like both? she wondered. What if mi curious?
Her phone buzzed.
Another message.
Jessica 💋
Morning, sweet thing.
Me & Dog Tear plan fi chill dis weekend.
Open invite.
Just vibes.
Good food, good weed, & maybe some dessert 😘
Shanice dropped the phone like it burned her.
Dessert?? Is she the dessert!?
She picked it back up with trembling fingers.
Zaria 🧠📚
U good? 👀Jessica message yuh?
U wanna go?
U don’t HAVE to do anything.
Just… come chill. Feel the vibes.Yuh know mi will be there to protect yuh 😘
Shanice exhaled, long and shaky.
She pictured Jessica again—her laugh, her boldness, the lick of gloss on her lips.
Then she pictured Dog Tear. His tattoos. The way he’d looked at her at brunch like she was already naked.
It was too much.
Too fast.
Too… wet.
She squeezed her thighs together and paced the kitchen.
She couldn’t say yes.
But she hadn’t said no.
Chapter 9 – Milky!!!
The next day the sun rose over Norbrook with the kind of smug heat that made the hills sweat. Birds chirped like they were late for gossip and the air already smelled like money and mango trees. Inside the helper’s quarters behind Zaria’s luxury townhouse, Shanice lay in bed, one eye cracked open, the other protesting reality. She hadn’t even stretched yet when her phone buzzed.
Zaria 🧠📚:
Rise up, Queen Condensed Milk 😌Jessica just drop a madness in mi DMs. Wait ‘til yuh see it 😂
Shanice sucked her teeth and rolled over. That damn nickname again. Ever since she’d choked on shrimp and Appleton at Ambrosia brunch, Zaria and Jessica had been calling her “Queen Condensed Milk” like it was a royal title. Apparently, Dog Tear’s eyes had “nearly melt the girl like Nestlé tin. Him seh she look sweet an soft” Jessica’s words, not hers.
She squinted at the phone, thumbed it open.
Zaria 🧠📚:
👀💦 screenshot attached
Jessica: Sooooo... would Shanice be down for a lil... evening of pleasure?
Me + her + DT = heaven on Earth, maybe hellfire too 😈🔥
Shanice sat straight up like the Holy Spirit slap her in the back.
“What kinda Devils Triangle foolishness this?” she muttered, nearly flinging the phone ‘cross the room. Her heart thudded like a bass drop at Dream Weekend.
Before she could fully process the madness, Zaria texted again.
Zaria 🧠📚:
You deh bout? Or yuh faint? 😂😂😂Yuh see what mi dealing with from mi fren them??Jessica say she waan a three-piece combo with extra sauce 😩😩
Shanice typed and deleted about five replies before finally settling on:
Shanice 🧼🧽:
What kinda saucy chat dat??Mi just come fi wash plate and catch a little peace 😩
Zaria 🧠📚:
Peace? In Norbrook? With yuh skin looking like warm toffee and that walk like yuh know yuh carry danger under yuh skirt?
Gyal hush. Yuh a whole threat and don’t even know it.Jessica senses it. DT smell it.😈😏😂
Shanice bit her lip and let out a wheeze-laugh. She hated how Zaria’s teasing made her feel all melty and excited. Like goose pimples and lowkey shame had teamed up to mess with her blood pressure.
She set down the phone and started cleaning the kitchen. The sun streamed through the big glass doors, bouncing off marble, chrome, and everything she couldn’t afford. Her AirPods were in, tuned into Hotbox Radio streaming pure bashment and reckless commentary. Aidonia’s voice licked up her spine. Some new song called “Grippy Gyaldem Energy” had her hips twitching while she wiped down the countertop.
“Mi nuh know what kinda gyal session dem planning,” she muttered, “but a three-way with a gunman and a uptown baddie not exactly on mi vision board…”
Still, she couldn't stop thinking about Dog Tear.
She'd heard about him before—stories whispered in yard shops and barbershops. Bad man. Gunman. A few bodies under his belt and the kinda street clout you couldn’t fake. Yet when he looked at her across that VIP booth, it wasn’t just violence in his eyes. It was mischief.
Appetite.
And Jessica?
Bold. Glossy. 5 ft 8 of walking sex slippery with intention. That woman looked like a scandal in heels and as if she tasted like expensive trouble. The idea of being touched by both of them was terrifying... and deeply arousing.
She rinsed out the mop bucket, still playing tug-o-war in her head between Seaview caution and Norbrook temptation.
Later that afternoon, Zaria breezed in from law school, dropping her designer tote onto the settee like she was allergic to effort.
“Shani,” she called, kicking off her shoes. “Yuh see yuh DMs?”
“I saw it,” Shanice said, arms crossed, trying not to laugh.
“So what? You tempted? Or yuh still in helper-girl crisis mode?”
Shanice gave her a look. “Don’t do mi that, Zaria.”
Zaria stifled a grin, then flopped onto the couch dramatically. “Alright, alright. I just need yuh to admit one ting. When Dog Tear lick him lips and call yuh ‘Seaview Brownin’… yuh panties never twitch?”
Shanice flung the mop at her. “Zaria!”
Zaria dodged and burst out laughing, “JUST ADMIT IT, QUEEN CONDENSE MILK!”
They both collapsed into giggles.
As evening crept in, Shanice sat in her little quarters, phone in hand, staring at a fresh message from Jessica.
Jessica 💋:
I got the Hennessy. DT bringing the loud. I got space in my bed. Your name on it. 👅💕
She stared at it for a long time.
Then shut off her phone.
She still hadn’t said yes.
But the thought of saying no didn’t feel right either.
Chapter 10 – Queen Condensed Milk Melts
The gates of Sierra Hills parted like they knew sin was inbound. Zaria drove the GLE like she had time but no patience, winding through the elite community where even the mailboxes looked expensive. You couldn’t even sneeze in this place without getting a fine and a scented apology card.
Shanice sat shotgun, skin gleaming, dress borrowed, soul in conflict. That silk mocha number clung like it was custom-made for the occasion—and in a way, it was.
“Stop wringing yuh hand like yuh going to funeral,” Zaria teased. “It’s just sex and snacks.”
“Yuh too damn cool,” Shanice muttered. “Mi heart a beat like riddim section.”
“You look like a walking dessert. Dog Tear and Jessica bout to risk their whole reputation tonight. And honestly? I love that for you.”
Shanice exhaled hard as the car slowed outside Jessica’s home. Mansion wasn’t even the right word. It was more like a glass palace carved into the hillside, glowing under the moon like a secret.
Jessica opened the door barefoot, robe flowing, nipples fully disrespecting the air.
“Queen Condensed Milk,” she said with a wicked smirk. “Come fi get whipped?”
Zaria howled. “Lawd, leave her alone! She nervous!”
Shanice froze in the doorway. “Mi… mi nuh know if mi ready—”
Dog Tear appeared behind Jessica in a tank top, grey sweats, and chains, eyes low, lips already curved like he smelled what she was thinking. “You ready,” he said.
Just like that, her body betrayed her.
The interior was sensual chaos—dim lights, burnin’ oud incense, neo-soul on vinyl, a bottle of champagne dripping cold sweat beside a platter of fruits you couldn’t even name.
Jessica led Shanice to the sunken living room, her hand resting low on her back like ownership. Dog Tear watched her move like a lion calculating the exact moment to pounce.
Shanice eased into the velvet sectional like it might reject her. She didn’t belong here—but her nipples clearly thought otherwise.
“Yuh want champagne?” Jessica asked. “Or just vibes?”
Zaria, now fully curled up on a faux fur bean bag with her wine, snorted. “She want deliverance. But she gon’ get Dog Tear.”
Then it began.
There was no small talk. No easing into it. Just Jessica straddling Shanice like her name was the rent. Lips brushing ear. Fingers trailing shoulder.
“Mi can taste yuh already,” she whispered. “Sweet and sticky. Like condensed milk wid spice.”
Shanice’s breath hitched. Dog Tear leaned in, voice gravel low.
“Mi bet she grip cocky tight too. Bet she don’t even know what her body can do.”
His hand slid up her thigh—slow, patient, disrespectful. The silk dress gave no fight.
Jessica kissed her. Soft. Then deep. Then gone. The tension snapped like elastic and all three were wrapped up in the thickest, messiest kind of want.
Shanice whimpered, torn between flight and full-blown fornication. Her legs didn’t move, but her hips? Traitors.
As the night unfolded Zaria the instigator watched from her perch on the couch. “Y’all good?” Zaria called, sipping wine, eating sliced Julie mango and scrolling on Twitter. “Need ice water? Holy oil? A ride to Sunday service?”
No answer. Just gasps and sighs and the sound of wet mouths losing manners.
She typed:
“My helper is currently being tag-teamed by Norbrook’s hottest criminals and I’m just here eating mango like it’s Love Island.”
She snapped a discreet photo of Jessica’s toe ring and Dog Tear’s shadow.
“Mi affi blog this.”
Shanice found herself face down, breathless, in Jessica’s 12K-thread-count sheets. Dog Tear behind her, his thick bulging cock sliding in her soaked middle real slow like a secret. Jessica licking her exposed hole like gospel. Somewhere between licks and strokes, she whispered, “Mi is not normal. Mi is not normal...”
Jessica moaned. “No, baby. You divine.”
Dog Tear just chuckled, deep and dark. “Condensed milk tun evaporated now, eh?”
Zaria screamed from the hallway, her phone secretly filming. “Y’ALL NASTY AND I LOVE IT.”
Later, Shanice lay starfish style on the floor. Wig gone. Eyelashes clinging to the carpet like victims. Her legs were still twitching.
Dog Tear smoked by the balcony, dick still slick and swinging, unbothered. Jessica nibbled grapes off a skewer like a Persian empress. Zaria had stolen Jessica’s robe and was taking selfies like she caused all of it.
“So,” Zaria said, grinning. “Would yuh recommend the Devil’s Threesome to a friend?”
Shanice whispered, “Mi need prayer.”
Jessica kissed her cheek. “You need juice. And maybe a Plan B.”
Dog Tear exhaled smoke. “Or Plan C—C for cum again.”
Chapter 11 – Uptown Gyal Business
The Monday morning breeze carried no shame.
Shanice swept the marble kitchen floor in silence, ear pods in, Gospel radio station on low.
Not because she was saved—no—but because something in her spirit felt bruised. Her thighs still trembled from the weekend antics, but it wasn’t the soreness that made her jaw tight.
It was the silence.
Zaria hadn’t said much that morning. Just a sheepish smirk over her porridge and a “Yuh good?” before disappearing to school. Not even a joke. Not even a “Queen Condensed Milk” tease. Something was off.
Her phone buzzed.
Not Zaria.
Not Jessica.
Just the cleaning rota in the helper group chat. Shanice sighed and put the phone face down on the counter.
Meanwhile... in the Uptown Group Chat
In a quiet corner of Sierra Hills, five iPhones dinged simultaneously.
Uptown Gyal Tingz 💅🏽✨(85 Members, No Helpers Allowed)
Jessica:
Lawd mi cyaah lie. That helper gyal got SPIRIT.
She was BAWLIN like the trumpet of Zion 😭😭😭😭
Tameka:
Don’t play 😭😭 y’all really went THROUGH with it??
Jessica:
Went? Baby we travelled.Here’s the one where Dog Tear had her head between mi thighs a nyam mi out till mi squirt inna har choat and she bawl out "JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL" 💀💀💀
Photo Attached: Blurred, but definitely Shanice. Sheets wrinkled. Legs spread. Face lost.
Leah:
Wait—IS THAT THE SAME GIRL YOU VIDEO BEND OVA A WASH THE DOG? 💀💀💀💀💀
Jessica:
B*tch, that dog neva had it so good.And y’all ain’t ready—she taste like syrup and Sunday school.
Mi call her CONDENSE MILK. Suweeetttt!
Giselle:
Why you wicked so 😭😭😭😭😭
Zaria:
Y’all so wrong for this lmao
But I did tell her to loosen up 😭
Jessica:
She loose now. Loose and ready.
Zaria sat in her GLE in the carpark of her campus, phone burning in her lap. She knew it was wrong. Knew Shanice had trusted her—had leaned into her vibe, her nudging, her "just go and enjoy yourself."
But the group chat was like a cult of soft laughter and scandal. Uptown women weren’t just messy—they were elite archivists of gossip. Everything was receipts and retellings. And Shanice… wasn’t one of them.
She wasn’t in the chat.
She wasn’t protected.
She was content.
The Ping That Changed Everything
Shanice’s phone buzzed again. An Instagram DM from a burner account.
"They call you Condense Milk? Uptown gyal dem real savage. Check yuh fren dem. 🥴💔"
One screenshot. Just one.
Jessica’s comment, the photo. Her own face, caught in pleasure and betrayal.
Shanice stood still in the middle of the kitchen like the marble tiles had grown teeth.
When Zaria came home later, she couldn’t find Shanice anywhere. She walked the grounds entering Shanice’s room where she found the helper’s quarters too clean. Bed made military-tight. Floors gleaming. Closet empty. One sticky note on the bathroom mirror:
“Thanks for everything. Mi did really trust yuh. But mi cyaah be nobody joke. –Condensed Milk 💔”
Zaria sat down in the living room, scrolling the chat, rereading Jessica’s posts. She should’ve stopped it. Should’ve known better. But now? Now it was done.
She poured herself a glass of wine.
Outside, thunder rolled over Norbrook. Rain was coming.
And Shanice?
She was already gone.
END OF BOOK ONE
🔥 “Condensed Milk – A Jamaican Erotic Story 🔥By Ebz Dixon
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