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Two Hours Later
jude
What kind of boring sista falls asleep at ten-thirty on a Saturday night? Jon really needed to wake up and smell some strong-ass coffee. We were young, educated, and beautiful. But the way Jon dressed, which I hated, deterred people from figuring out the beautiful part. I was sick and tired of the ugly-ass, wire-rimmed glasses. I’d broken three pairs and Jon still hadn’t taken the damn hint. Our vision wasn’t that bad anyway. I could see just fine without those stupid glasses. Fuck it. Jon could wear them but I refused to reduce myself to that.
I wasn’t about to be bored so I got out of bed, went into the bathroom and glanced into the mirror. As usual, Jon had on some baggy-ass, flannel pajamas that I wouldn’t be caught dead in.
I checked out our reflection in the mirror. “Look at us. We’re tall; we’ve got thick, ebony hair; caramel skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom; legs for days, and an ass men would weep over. Yet you try to cover us up like we’re a nun or some shit. Fuck all that. A body like this is meant to be displayed.”
Jon had taken care of the bathing part so that left me with the hair and makeup. I tore the pins out of our hair and let it flow before breaking out the curling iron to hook our ass up. Jon kept buying this cheap lipstick from the dollar store but I found an old tube of L’Oréal behind some jars in the medicine cabinet, mixed the two, and it looked halfway decent.
Pickings were slim in the closet, at least when it came to “whorefits.” I selected a black suit and managed to turn it into a somewhat revealing ensemble by going braless and leaving the blazer unbuttoned except for one button at the waistline. I was content. We were showing mucho cleavage and looking damn good.
• • •
When I pulled up in front of Club Snatch, it was a madhouse. Finding Darnetta to grab that extra ticket would prove to be damn near impossible. Jon was always fucking things up for us. Darnetta was a cool sista and Jon had no business turning down invites in the first place. I almost fainted when she agreed to accept the next invitation from Darnetta. I couldn’t wait to see that.
It wasn’t like we had some busy-ass social calendar or some shit. Those stupid sexual addiction meetings didn’t count as socializing. Jon never said anything while she was there. Besides, there was nothing for her to say. She didn’t know jack.
After circling the block three times, I finally lucked out and spotted someone pulling out of a space. The music was slamming but there were more than a hundred people in line. I was infuriated. I wanted in there bad. Lil’ Z was doing the remix of his hit “Baby Got Breastesses for Dayz” and I was all into him. Jon’s stupid behind had never even heard of him. That says it all.
Damn, I just love bald heads! That was the first thing that came to mind when I spotted his blue-black ass standing at the end of the line. I could tell he was from Jamaica, Barbados, or some other place Jon refused to take a vacation, even though I’d left numerous pamphlets and brochures around the apartment as hints.
The brotha definitely had my interest as I approached him. I surveyed the area. He was alone. The couple in front of him was locking lips and needed to get a room. Hell, Mr. Fine and I needed to get a room our damn selves, but I had something much better in mind.
I brushed my fingertips over one of his ass cheeks. He was wearing the hell out of some navy slacks and I couldn’t resist.
He swung around and glared at me with a pair of sexy, brown, bedroom eyes. He was seemingly pleased with what he saw before him and his eyes dropped down to my exposed breasts. The heat had calmed down from earlier and the cool breeze was making my nipples hard.
He flashed an enormous smile. “What’s your name?”
Nice smile, wrong question. Why must they always ask that?
“What’s in a name?” I replied.
He chuckled. Sexy ass. “I was just trying to be friendly, being that you just felt me up.”
He had an accent. Definite plus. I was feeling that. I inched closer to him and grabbed his dick. His huge dick. Yes, he was surely f
rom an island; somewhere Mandingos are bred on the regular.
“Trust me. I haven’t even begun to feel you up yet.”
The line had progressed a few feet, but we remained frozen in place. Two sistas all hoochified for the evening walked up behind us.
“Are you in line?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know. Are we?” I asked my prospective lover.
“No, I don’t suspect we are.” He managed to get the words out even though I was latched on to his dick like a vise. I was so close to him that the sistas couldn’t see what I was doing. However, I wouldn’t have minded if they watched me tear his ass to shreds and slay his dick, which were my intentions.
I glanced at them. “You can go on around us.”
“Thanks!” they yelled out in unison. That meant two less people they had to wait behind. They were elated and it showed.
I looked back into his eyes. “So, you wanna go somewhere?”
“Sure,” he said eagerly. “Wherever you want.”
