Page 67 of Love & Streetball

Slim’s eyes widened. “I see.”

I laughed and started removing my clothes so I wouldn’t get in the bed in outside clothes. When I was down to just my boxers and ball shorts, I sauntered over to the AC unit to turn it on. When I started to limb in the bed, Slim started taking her clothes off. She kept her sports bra, but removed her tights. She had on black boy cut panties, that hugged her ass.

Slim hated it, but I loved how nice her ass was. It sat up and it was perfectly round. That’s why she wore big clothes, because she knew the perverts in the projects would be looking. I didn’t blame her.

Slim cuddled into me, her front to my front. Her chin tucked into my neck.

“I still think this is crazy,” she mumbled.

“What?” I asked, already knowing what she was talking about.

“Me and you.”

“Nah,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “I don’t think it’s crazy.”

“I wasn’t even interested in anything but basketball.” Slim cackled. “I wasn’t interested in niggas. I was a damn tomboy. Damn near looked like one with the durag and big ass clothes.”

Placing a kiss to her forehead, I told her, “That shit didn’t bother me. I like you for you, not what you wear. I know you a female underneath all that shit.” I laughed loudly.

“What if I was a lesbian?” Slim cackled, gripping my sides.

“Go to sleep, Scottie,” I said through a snorted laugh. “Go to fuckin’ sleep.”

It was a little after seven p.m. when I woke up before Slim. She didn’t know, but I had a few more surprises for her. A makeup artist was on her way to beat her face. I was already aware that I was going to catch hell from that alone. Slim didn’t do makeup.

I carefully slid my arm from beneath Slim’s body and climbed out of bed. She frowned in her sleep before reaching for the spot I had just left.

“Where you going?” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed.

“To the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”

“You better come back.”

I smiled. “Bossy ass.”

Slim flipped over and pulled the blanket above her head. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and checked the time. It was 7:08. The makeup artist had texted me, letting me know she was downstairs. I sent her the room number before heading into the bathroom.

A knock sounded at the door, as soon as I emerged from the bathroom.

Slim shot up. “Who the fuck is that?”

I laughed. “Calm down.”

“Why is somebody knocking on the door?”

She rubbed her eyes. “You know what I mean. Kane, who is it?”

“Put this on.” I tossed her the hotel robe.

Slim caught it against her chest. “Why?”

“Because I’m not opening the door with your ass sitting in the bed half-naked.”

She climbed from the bed and slipped it over her body. Once the belt was tied, I opened the door.

The makeup artist stood in the hallway with two large cases and a ring light. Slim stared at her before slowly turning her head in my direction.

“What is this, Kane? Who is she?”