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When my order came, I peeped my mark glancin’ over at me several times. I smiled at him and slid my fork in and outta my mouth nice ’n slow and very sexy-like, lickin’ my lips. He smiled back. Yeah, nigga, I know you want some of this good pussy. I see it in ya eyes. Don’t worry, muhfucka, I’ma let ya dip ya tongue up in it.
I even peeped a few white cats eyein’ me on the sly. They knew a classy bitch when they saw one. And I was servin’ it lovely. E’ery so often, my target would look up from his paper, and I’d flirt with him with my eyes just to fuck with him. There’s somethin’ ’bout the way a man looks at me that lets me know just what’s on his mind. I took a few more bites of my fruit salad, sipped my glass of water with lemon, then slowly got up to leave. I watched him eye me as I slipped my poncho over my head. I flirted with him with my eyes, then smiled. He smiled. I winked and blew him a kiss, then turned on my heels and sashayed toward the exit, lookin’ back to catch him with his eyes glued to my ass. I smiled again, then strutted out the door.
Then the next two mornins I did the same shit, eyein’ him real sexy, lickin’ my lips and whatnot, baitin’ his ass, then gettin’ up and leavin’ abruptly. I was fuckin’ with the muhfucka, lettin’ him know what was really good without words. And he obviously heard me, ’cause on the fourth day, he got up from his seat, walked over to my table, and spoke. That’s right, big daddy, come on over to lil’ momma.
“Mind if I join you?”
I let my eyes linger over his body, focused on the center of his crotch, then slowly looked up into his eyes. “Not at all,” I said, smilin’.
He went back to get his things, then returned to my table and sat across from me. “So, tell me,” he said, leanin’ forward in his seat and restin’ his elbows on the table. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing here all by herself?”
I stared into his eyes. Although I knew they were brown, they almost looked black. And they sparkled. I noticed specks of gray in his mustache and beard. Damn, this old nigga was fine.
“Waitin’ for a man like you,” I said as I licked my lips.
He smiled, blushin’ ’n shit. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
“Stanley,” he said, stickin’ his hand out to me. I allowed my hand to get lost in his grip. Hmm…I can’t wait to feel them big hands squeezin’ this ass, I thought.
And I’m horny. I smiled. “Natasha,” I offered. Then we spent the next thirty minutes talkin’. He was an architect from Upper Marlboro, Maryland, and had been in San Diego for over a week. Although I was actin’ like I was really listenin’ to him while he rattled on ’bout his corny-ass architecture conference, I wasn’t beat. I nodded and smiled, and gave him what looked like my undivided attention. But the only thing on my mind was tryna figure out how I was gonna get into his room, get at his dick, then shut his lights. I ain’t gonna front, his deep Barry White-soundin’ voice had my pussy lips flappin’ open. But the nigga—fine and all—was a fuckin’ bore. And that’s capital, B-O-R-E. Humph…I could see why his wife divorced his tired ass. I tried so fuckin’ hard to look interested in him goin’ on and on ’bout his buildin’ designs and his love for classical and jazz music. Oh my God, I wanted to splatter his fuckin’ brains right there on the spot.
About another ten minutes into the conversation, I got up and excused myself to go to the bathroom. I had to put this muhfucka outta his misery quick. I looked under the two stalls to make sure no one else was around, then flipped open the Kat line and called Cash.
“Yo, what’s good? You take care of that, yet?”
“Tonight,” I said.
“Cool. Make it happen,” he replied. “You the only one takin’ three and four days to handle ya business, tryna make vacations out the shit. I want this square handled tonight, Kat; you holdin’ my peoples up with ya bullshit.”
I sucked my teeth, rollin’ my eyes. “I said tonight, nigga. Damn. Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Don’t—” Click. I disconnected the call, walkin’ outta the bathroom back to the table.
“Sorry ’bout that,” I said, sittin’ back down. I glanced around the room and noticed there were hardly any people there. Good. The fewer people who see us talkin’ the better, I thought.
He was sippin’ on his second cup of coffee. He set his cup down and smiled. “No problem. So…you never said what brings you to beautiful San Diego.”
You, muhfucka, I thought. “Change of scenery,” I told his ass, lickin’ my neatly painted lips.
“Is that right?”
I nodded, keepin’ my gaze on him.
“So, is this change for business or pleasure?”
I eyed him real sexy-like, then slowly licked my lips again. “Both,” I answered, claspin’ my hands together on the table. I leaned in. “Listen. Let me ask you this to get it outta the way before I go any further with this. You married? ’Cause I ain’t lookin’ for no drama from the Mrs.” Ev
en though I usually know the answer to this question, I always like askin’ just to see what a nigga’s gonna say. Nine times outta ten, the muhfucka’s gonna lie outta his ass.
“Divorced,” he stated. “And you?”
“Besides bein’ very horny, I’m single.”
He laughed. “Interesting combination,” he said, starin’ at my titties. I stuck my chest out more, givin’ him a better view.
“They feel even better,” I told him.
