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“Yes, what? Yes, you’re ridin’ with someone or yes, I give you what you need?”
“Yes, you give me what I need. And yes, I carpooled today, but I only did it once to see what it’s like and to see if it’s beneficial. You know the traffic is horrible and the gas is expensive. We get to and from work twice as fast ’cause we use the HOV lanes. It wasn’t bad.”
“Who the fuck is ‘we’?”
“The driver and another rider.”
“Male or female?”
“Both male.”
“Ahhh, hell no, Connie. You leave that carpooling shit alone. I don’t want you riding with two mothafuckas I don’t know. You’ve only been at the job six months. You don’t know these people. Why would you do that?”
“Keith, the driver is a respectable, senior manager at the company, and the other man is a total geek. They’re harmless.”
“Half the crazy mothafuckas in the world are geeks. Next thing I’ll know, you’ll be on the six o’clock news missing persons report.”
“Ahhh, sweetie, you’re just concerned.” I rub his back to soothe him. “Thanks for caring so much about me, but I promise you that I’m fine, really.”
He looks at me with his intense brown eyes. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You don’t need these men to help you with anything; that’s what I’m here for. We can afford the gas, the ride, everything.”
“Okay, Keith. I don’t want to argue. If you don’t want me to carpool, then I won’t. I’ll send an email from my Blackberry and inform the driver I won’t be there tomorrow.
“Word. Who’s your man?”
“You are, sweetie.”
“That’s right. Remember that shit.” He seals his boastful statement with a peck.
“I do remember, Keith, every day. You don’t need to worry.” I hug and kiss him lightly about his face and neck, reassuring him everything is fine.
“Aight. Let’s get going before we miss seeing this new artist. I hear he’s the shi-zite.”
He grabs a handful of my ass, then quickly pats it as he walks away. I stand there thinking, that damn Q; he needs to mind his own business, for real.
***
I fumble to turn off the annoying, chirping sound of my Friday six a.m. alarm, and linger beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets, snug as a bug. I’m exhausted from my exhilarating encounter with Bishop yesterday and hanging out with Keith at the Pit last night. We should have left the hip-hop club no later than midnight in order to get a decent night’s sleep before having to go to work this morning. But Keith is always quick to remind me that the crowd doesn’t get good until after eleven o’clock. Plus, he likes to see how the mass of patrons responds to an artist. It’s one way he determines whether or not an artist has crowd appeal. Luckily, his potential client is a crowd-pleaser.
As I recollect about last night, I gotta admit, Phoenix, as people call him, brought the house down. Thursday nights will never be the same at the Pit when he’s on the mike. His rap style sort of reminds me of Mos Def, who happens to be one of my favorite rap artists. Although Phoenix is not quite as polished as Mos, he certainly is an up-and-coming talent. Keith is still bouncing off the walls from Phoenix agreeing to work for him.
“IIIIT’S FRRRIDAY! Wake up, Connie, baby. Time to go to work.” Keith pulls the cozy comforter and sheets off my naked body and exposes me to the cool air-conditioned room. My nipples quickly harden and Keith zeroes in on them like a suckling babe to its mother. He lies atop me with his sexy, naked muscular body and cups my 36DDs with both hands, sucks and gnaws at the tips of my breasts. I watch him take a mouthful of each breast, work his way to my pointed nipples, then tug just hard enough to make me moan with pleasure. The tension turns me on, and my breasts swell, as I desire for him to play with them more.
“I love your Betty Boops, baby. They’re so full and perky, and soft to the touch.”
“Yeah, I know you do.”
As he places his face in my cleavage, I vigorously shake my breasts from side to side, smacking his cheeks with each backward-and-forward motion. He laughs and enjoys our playful moment. I’m glad to see that his mind is off our conversation last night about me sluggin’. Speaking of which, I need to meet Bishop at seven-thirty a.m.
“Sweetie…” I interrupt Keith’s exploration that seems to be headed to my hot zone.
“Shhhhh. Lay back and relax. Let me give you what I know you like.” He parts my long, slender, brown legs and rubs my clit with two of his fingers
. This is going to be hard, but I gotta stop him.
“Keith, sweetie…”
“Shhhh.”
