safe?”
I knew it! This nigga is flirting with me.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I flirt back, tilting my head and running my fingers through my hair.
“I like the sound of that.”
Our eyes stay locked on each other’s. There’s definitely chemistry between the two of us. I can tell he feels it, too. But, before I allow myself to get caught up in the moment, reality sets in that I am running a business; not a pick-up spot. I shift my body language, and become all business again. “Well, thanks for shopping at Paradise Boutique. We appreciate your business. I hope your mother enjoys her purchase.”
He catches the hint, smiling. “I’m sure she will. Look, I’ma let you get back to handlin’ ya business. I’ll be back through to check out the rest of your goods .” He says this with innuendo dripping from his lips.
I smile, flirtatiously. “And I’ll be here when you do.”
“Cool-cool. You got a name, beautiful?”
I grab the keys to the glass case, then walk from around the counter. “If you happen to come back through, I’ll tell you what it is then. If not”—I shrug—“you’ll never know.”
He grins. “Oh, aiight, I see how you doin’ it.” He glances downat the card in his hand. “It’s all good, though. I’ll just call you Paradise.”
I smile. “Well then, welcome to Paradise; where all of your desires are fulfilled.”
He laughs. “Damn, I like the sound of that.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’ll definitely be back to check for ya real name.”
“We’ll see,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “You know where to find me. Again, thanks for shopping at Paradise.”
His smile widens. “No doubt.”
I watch as he walks toward the door, imagining him naked and sweaty, his dick buried deep in my pussy. For some reason, I decide not to mention him to Persia and Porsha. Shit, there’s nothing to tell , I think, walking over to unlock the handbag case, knowing if opportunity presents itself, I am going to sample what his fine-ass has to offer, and if it’s good, I’ll fuck the skin off his dick!
Persia
CHAPTER FIVE
“ I want to take you home and fuck the shit out of you,” I whisper into the ear of the deliciously dark stallion seated to the left of me. It’s Saturday night and Paris, Porsha and I are at the Key Club in Newark—a restaurant, bar and lounge—popping and swinging our hips to DJ Qua’s live broadcast as he spins the house mixes and makes the party rock. Paris and Porsha are somewhere on the dance floor sweating it out. Dark Stallion and I are at the bar continuing our off-and-on flirting. We’d danced a few times throughout the night and I had the pleasure of rubbing up against his body some, pressing my ass up against the center of his crotch; just enough to awaken his loins. And we’ve exchanged a few pleasantries in between. Never one to sweat a man, I’ve kept my eye on him for most of the night from afar. Watched how he flirted with his eyes and body, on and off the dance floor. I’ve seen how he moves on the dance floor, now I want to feel how he moves in the sheets. We’ve locked eyes every so often, flashing quick smiles, a slight nod, even a wink. Yet, neither of us has made a move. Still, I’ve patiently lied in wait, waiting for the right time to strike, like now—when he’s at the bar, sweaty and alone, tossing back his sixth Remy Martin on ice. And now that time is winding down, it’s time to strike. And go in for the kill. He chokes on his drink, coughing. “Oooh, Daddy, don’t get all choked up on my account. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, covering his mouth as he coughs again. “You caught me off-guard.” What else is new? Most men can’t handle a sexually dominant woman. They either get scared off, start to feel inadequate, or both. He lets out a nervous laugh. “I see you get right to the point.”
“I’m a grown woman,” I tell him, eyeing him seductively. I pause, drinking the remainder of my ten-dollar
I knew it! This nigga is flirting with me.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I flirt back, tilting my head and running my fingers through my hair.
“I like the sound of that.”
Our eyes stay locked on each other’s. There’s definitely chemistry between the two of us. I can tell he feels it, too. But, before I allow myself to get caught up in the moment, reality sets in that I am running a business; not a pick-up spot. I shift my body language, and become all business again. “Well, thanks for shopping at Paradise Boutique. We appreciate your business. I hope your mother enjoys her purchase.”
He catches the hint, smiling. “I’m sure she will. Look, I’ma let you get back to handlin’ ya business. I’ll be back through to check out the rest of your goods .” He says this with innuendo dripping from his lips.
I smile, flirtatiously. “And I’ll be here when you do.”
“Cool-cool. You got a name, beautiful?”
I grab the keys to the glass case, then walk from around the counter. “If you happen to come back through, I’ll tell you what it is then. If not”—I shrug—“you’ll never know.”
He grins. “Oh, aiight, I see how you doin’ it.” He glances downat the card in his hand. “It’s all good, though. I’ll just call you Paradise.”
I smile. “Well then, welcome to Paradise; where all of your desires are fulfilled.”
He laughs. “Damn, I like the sound of that.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’ll definitely be back to check for ya real name.”
“We’ll see,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “You know where to find me. Again, thanks for shopping at Paradise.”
His smile widens. “No doubt.”
I watch as he walks toward the door, imagining him naked and sweaty, his dick buried deep in my pussy. For some reason, I decide not to mention him to Persia and Porsha. Shit, there’s nothing to tell , I think, walking over to unlock the handbag case, knowing if opportunity presents itself, I am going to sample what his fine-ass has to offer, and if it’s good, I’ll fuck the skin off his dick!
Persia
CHAPTER FIVE
“ I want to take you home and fuck the shit out of you,” I whisper into the ear of the deliciously dark stallion seated to the left of me. It’s Saturday night and Paris, Porsha and I are at the Key Club in Newark—a restaurant, bar and lounge—popping and swinging our hips to DJ Qua’s live broadcast as he spins the house mixes and makes the party rock. Paris and Porsha are somewhere on the dance floor sweating it out. Dark Stallion and I are at the bar continuing our off-and-on flirting. We’d danced a few times throughout the night and I had the pleasure of rubbing up against his body some, pressing my ass up against the center of his crotch; just enough to awaken his loins. And we’ve exchanged a few pleasantries in between. Never one to sweat a man, I’ve kept my eye on him for most of the night from afar. Watched how he flirted with his eyes and body, on and off the dance floor. I’ve seen how he moves on the dance floor, now I want to feel how he moves in the sheets. We’ve locked eyes every so often, flashing quick smiles, a slight nod, even a wink. Yet, neither of us has made a move. Still, I’ve patiently lied in wait, waiting for the right time to strike, like now—when he’s at the bar, sweaty and alone, tossing back his sixth Remy Martin on ice. And now that time is winding down, it’s time to strike. And go in for the kill. He chokes on his drink, coughing. “Oooh, Daddy, don’t get all choked up on my account. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, covering his mouth as he coughs again. “You caught me off-guard.” What else is new? Most men can’t handle a sexually dominant woman. They either get scared off, start to feel inadequate, or both. He lets out a nervous laugh. “I see you get right to the point.”
“I’m a grown woman,” I tell him, eyeing him seductively. I pause, drinking the remainder of my ten-dollar
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