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And always at their own risk.
The big red sign over the door read: LOSE YOURSELF TO PASSION
And on either side of the huge doors stood two of the most beautifully sculpted men Brenda and LaQuandra had ever laid eyes on. They both looked of Polynesian descent. Probably Hawaiian, LaQuandra thought as she nearly choked on her drool.
Brenda seductively licked her lips.
And, Krista, well . . . she seemed unfazed by the doormen’s exquisite physiques. She seemed more fixated on the skimpy outfits Brenda and LaQuandra had decided to stuff themselves into.
Brenda had her breasts nearly spilling out of an extremely short wrap dress that revealed the edges of her big, fluffy ass cheeks. Curvy wasn’t the word that best described her. For a thick woman, she was well proportioned and stacked in all the right places. And Brenda loved every dangerous curve on her body. She exuded confidence and sex appeal—lots of it.
Yet, Krista fought to keep a scowl from forming as she watched Brenda walk in front of her, her ass shaking every which way. Her thick shapely legs seemingly more elongated in a pair of seven-inch fuck-me pumps.
Krista wondered if the tramp had on panties.
Mmph. Probably not . . .
Next, Krista’s gaze swept over LaQuandra. And this heifer had the gall to wear a skintight black dress with a cutout back and a pair of sexy black six-inch, open-toed heels. Her flat ass didn’t look so flat, and Krista thought she might be wearing silicone butt pads. She couldn’t blame her, though, if LaQuandra were wearing padding in her underwear.
Every woman deserved to have an ass they could be proud of. Right?
Still . . .
Krista couldn’t believe Brenda and LaQuandra would come out dressed like two hoochies on the ho-stroll. Hadn’t they been told to dress sexy, not whorish. Whatever. She wasn’t in the business of judging folks, so if they liked it, she loved it.
She glanced down at her outfit—a white linen skirt, white silk blouse with matching linen jacket. She normally liked to wear her blazers buttoned, but tonight she’d decided to wear it unbuttoned to show the ruffles in her blouse.
And then Krista stole a glance down at her w
hite peep-toe pumps. The three-inch heels were already starting to hurt her feet, but she’d suffer through it for a few hours. She hadn’t been to a nightclub in years. And she hadn’t had a drink in about four years. And the only dance she knew was the Electric Slide, so unless they played the Electric Boogie or the Cupid Shuffle, she’d be holding up the wall with a Pepsi in her hand, sipping through a straw.
Of course, Kendall looked handsome in his white linen pants and white linen dress shirt. The pants hung just right over his white loafers. Krista couldn’t help but grin, knowing they were dressed to the nines. She was still peeved about what had been said in their session, but not enough to allow it to ruin their evening.
“Girrrrrl,” LaQuandra drawled out as she leaned in to Brenda. “Why in the world is Krissy . . .?”
“Who?” Brenda asked, giving her a confused look.
“The church lady in back of us.”
“Oh”—Brenda chuckled—“you mean, Krista?”
“Yeah, her,” LaQuandra stage-whispered, and then she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t in earshot. “Tell me why is she dressed like she’s going to a woman’s day program?”
Brenda nearly doubled over in laughter. “Girl, stop. You are so wrong for that.”
LaQuandra shrugged. “But am I right? All she needs is the hat and gloves.”
“Girl, stop. I think she looks cute in her patent leathers.” Brenda opted to not say anything more than that. She decided LaQuandra was the messy one, so she’d let her messy-ass be messy by her damn self.
LaQuandra grunted. “Uh-huh. She’s dressed like she’s ready for communion.”
“Girl, be nice. Let her dress how she wants to dress,” Brenda said. And then she shifted the conversation back to the chiseled hunks standing up at the top of the stairs. “If the men in this club look anything like those two up there, I’m gonna need a change of drawz.”
LaQuandra laughed.
Isaiah and Roselle scowled at the chiseled men with the wide shoulders and muscled chests and rippling abs.
What the fuck? Roselle thought as he sized up the two hunks standing up at the top of the stairs. I hope this club isn’t packed with a buncha half-naked niggas. I wanna see some sexy bitches with lots of ass and tits.
