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“And you are?”
“Kashmir, but niggahs call me Cash with a Cee, for short.”
“And why’s that?”
“ ’Cause they know I’m about makin’ that paper. And I dig makin’ it rain on sexy-ass broads, like you.”
I grin. “Then tonight’s ya lucky night, big daddy. ’Cause I love trickin’ niggahs like you up off them dollars.”
He laughs. “Yo, that’s what it is. So how ’bout we go back on over to my booth over there in VIP, let’s toss back a few drinks and get better acquainted. You cool with that?”
The niggah doesn’t have to say shit else. I swing my ass over toward VIP while he follows behind watchin’ it shake, bounce, ’n pop. When we get over to his booth, the tall sexy tar-black niggah I had my eye on earlier is sittin’ in the booth with three other niggahs. All dipped in jewels. There are four three-hundred-dollar bottles of Krug, a bottle of Crown Royal, and a bottle of Rémy XO on the table. Oooga Bear doesn’t introduce us. Rude ass! Instead, he grabs the bottle of Rémy and a bottle of Krug, then tells me to follow him to another booth. I walk in back of him, glancin’ over my shoulder at Tar Baby. I quickly flick my tongue out on the sly. Oooga Bear waits for me to slide into the booth, then slides in beside me. I frown.
“Ummm, why is you tryna pin me up in this booth, niggah?”
He chuckles. “No harm, ma. I’m only tryna sit close to ya sexy ass and have a few drinks wit’ you. But if you want a muhfucka to sit across from you instead, then I will.”
I cut my eyes at him. “Pour me some of that Rémy, niggah. But if you try any funny business I’ma stab you in ya balls.”
He cracks up laughin’ as he pours two glasses of Rémy. “Yo, you real feisty, ma.” He slides my glass over. “You really know how’ta make a niggah’s dick hard.”
“And I know how to ride one, too.”
“Is that so?” He raises his glass. “So here’s to my hard dick. And you knowin’ how’ta ride it.”
Our glasses clink.
“So you fuckin’?”
I slide my lips over my glass, then sip my drink real ladylike ’cause I’m tryna keep it real classy tonight ’til some coon sets me off. Then you know I’ll have to turn up the flames to hood-ho and set it off. My pussy lips clap, imaginin’ givin’ this niggah a facial.
I take a few more sips of my drink, but I wanna toss it back like I would a dingaling. Gulp, gulp, goddammit!
“Boo, that depends,” I finally say, settin’ my glass down. The dark liquid goes down like fire.
“Oh, word? On what?”
“One, on how much paper you tryna drop; two, on how much dingdong you got hangin’; and, three on whether or not I feel like fuckin’.”
He laughs. “Oh, shit ‘dingdong’, that shit’s funny as hell. But check this out, ma. One, money ain’t never sumthin’ I gotta worry about. And, two, I gotta big, thick dick that most bitches can’t handle. So the question is, can you handle the dingdong as you call it?”
I laugh. “Boo-boo, you better check my credentials. I gotta pussy like a horse, niggah. It’s real juicy and knows how to milk the nut outta a dingaling.”
He laughs again. “Yo, you a real live wit’ ya shit, ma. You just don’t give a fuck, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Yo, I like that shit, ma.”
I toot my lips. “Mmmhmm. And what you like to do, niggah, since we talkin’ about what you like?”
“Real shit, ma. I’ma freaky ass muhfucka. It’s whatever wit’ me when it comes to pleasin’ a sexy bitch as long as she’s willin’ to return the favor. But I can show you better than I can tell you. But on some real shit, ma, we ain’t gotta do a buncha nothin’. Shit watchin’ how you had that big-ass bouncin’ gotta niggah’s dick still rocked. You got me wantin’ to fuck ya ass on this table, real shit.”
My pussy lips clap again. “Niggah, I’m only that kinda ho for my baby daddies. You fuck me, it’s gonna be with my ass up, face down, stretched out in the middle of a hotel bed.”
He leans into my ear. “Yo, check this out. I got five grand to blow tonight on whatever. So tell me. What can a niggah get for that kinda paper?”
I raise a brow. “Niggah-boo, for that kinda paper, I might let you get the works.”
