I laughed to myself. Grey was going to learn today. He was riding with a true freak, and if he thought that I was going to sit up here and play games with him when he was the one that bust up in my office trying to get nasty, he had another thing coming. Without taking my eyes off him, I spread my legs wide and planted my gold Giuseppe sandals up on the desk and eased my hand down my stomach, over my freshly waxed pussy and inserted two fingers into the spot he’d just left. I used my thumb to play with my clit and my other hand to pinch at my nipples. Moans echoed off the wall and my eyes slammed shut. I continued my show and it felt so good that I didn’t give a fuck if Grey finished or not; I was getting mine regardless. Suddenly, I felt my hand being moved and replaced by Grey’s hard tool and I smirked.
“You a stone cold freak, girl. Fuck.” He smiled at me and I smiled back.
He continued to deliver long stroke after long stroke until we both came one after the other. Grey landed on top of me, and I looked up at the ceiling trying to catch my breath. My eyes fluttered open after a few moments, and I swore I saw emoji hearts floating above my head. This man was incredible. Just when I thought I was going to have to show my ass, Grey popped up and gave me a dose of act right. He was the yin to my yang, and the calm to my storm. I was beginning to think that Grey and I were perfect for each other. I knew it was early on in the “relationship” or whatever this was, but I was already envisioning a beach wedding, 2.5 kids and a house in the hills. I loved living as a single, independent career woman, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t give that up to have a man like Grey be my husband. And if I played my cards right, he would belong to me soon enough.
Grey
July 2014
“So what would my schedule look like?” Niema asked me. She crossed her legs seductively, leaned forward and propped her arms up on her knee. Her new position gave me a better view of her nice sized titties that were threatening to tumble out of her low cut shirt. I swallowed hard.
Interviewing these dancers for the club was becoming harder and harder every day. They were coming dressed in less and less clothing and I couldn’t front; most of these chicks were Smooth Magazine fine. It had been a couple Draya’s, a few K. Michelle’s, a handful of Amber Rose’s and a bad ass chick that was the thicker version of Ciara and she could move like her too. I was having a hard time focusing on being professional and had thought about letting Kimani and my club manager, Trickie, come in and do the interviews for me. Kimani was out in New York for some kind of photo shoot and I had Trickie doing inventory, so that was a no-go.
I was really feeling Nakami, and we had recently decided to make things official, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I had pussy being thrown at me left and right since I’d opened the club. Half the chicks I had interviewed in the last day and a half had been tossing the draws at me non-stop. It was getting more difficult to shrug off the temptation. It had been a grip since I’d had another chick, but I was going to try my hand at being a one woman nigga.
“You would be working the hours of the club which would be Thursday thru Sunday from 9pm to 2am. Of course if we have special events during the days we aren’t normally operational, you would be required to come in on those days as well,” I spoke. The entire time I spoke, Niema had her tongue gliding across her glossy lips and I could barely concentrate.
“Ok, that’s cool,” Niema smiled.
“Cool. So did you have something prepared to show me?”
“Yup. I gave the Dj my music already.”
I signaled for the DJ to turn on her track and a few seconds later, The Weekend’s Often came blaring through the speakers. Niema shook off her jean jacket, stood from the couch and ran her hands up the side of her body. I leaned back in the cabana style booth and watched as she wound her thick and toned body to the beat. She was an okay dancer; she mostly snaked her hips or ran her hands through her shoulder length blonde hair, but she had mad sex appeal. She never broke eye contact and she caressed herself to the point where I was unsure if she was dancing or if she was in the middle of foreplay. I was so caught up in watching Niema that I didn’t know anyone had entered the room until the song stopped. I looked up and saw Nakami marching over to us from the DJ booth. Fuck!
“Why did the music stop?” Niema looked at me with an eyebrow raised.
“Niema, I’m going to give you a call…”
“No, the fuck he ain’t. You can take ya Baby Gap jacket and Ross heels and carry your ass out my man’s face!” Nakami flung Niema’s jacket in her face, almost knocking the girl over.
This shit was starting to become a problem. Nakami and I had been dating for almost two months. I swear I might have even been falling for her. Everything was cool right up until business at the club started picking up and I started spending a little more time at work. Nakami started with little snide comments about spending more time at work than with her, and then it escalated to her doing drive-bys and pop ups. I’m not the type of nigga to hide shit because I ain’t ever felt the need to lie about what I do as a grown ass man, so I had told her all about the interviews last week. That’s when shit really got out of hand.
At first, she tried to make it seem like she wanted to help vet the girls. She claimed that she used to help Blu run Clappers when it first opened and she had an eye for talent. I quickly found out that her lil’ jealous ass just wanted to be nosey. The first day of interviews I had a list of ten girls that were supposed to come through the club. I looked up and it was 1 o’clock, but not one of them had showed up. I ended up calling the next interviewee and found out that she had received a call from a woman stating that the interviews had been cancelled until further notice. What type of shit was that, man? I was 38 hot!
But I had to play it cool. Nakami’s father had been out of town for the last month or so, so I still hadn’t been able to kick it about getting back on. I was feeling Nakami, no doubt, but she was starting to show signs of a crazy bitch and I wasn’t ready for those type of problems.
“Yo! What the hell is your problem?” I pulled Nakami to the side and raised my finger, asking Niema to give me a second.
“I know you not out here fucking Kmart ass hoes now?” she shouted as she eyeballed Neima.
“No. I’m interviewing dancers for the club, like I told your ass I would be! What reason do I have to lie to you?” I asked.
“Every reason, nigga! I looked through your phone this morning and a bitch named---“
I cut her off. “You went through my phone?!” I yelled.
She had definitely crossed the line. I could feel myself ready to fuck some shit up, and if Nakami didn’t get out my face soon, she was liable to become collateral damage.
“It was ringing incessantly this morning!”
“Fuck that, Nakami. You don’t pay my fucking bill. Stay off my shit and I’m for real,” I said seriously. “Secondly, I’m at work. I don’t have time to be arguing with you about some frivolous shit that you can’t seem to understand. I’m interviewing. That’s it. I’m not explaining this shit to you again.”
Nakami looked at me with fire burning behind her eyes. I knew that even if she left right now, this wouldn’t be the end of this conversation. And I was going to have to put her in her place gently because I still needed her to set things up with her father. I couldn’t mess that shit up.
“You know what Grey? Fuck you!” she pushed me in my chest and ran out of the front door of the club.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. I walked over to Niema, who was still standing there trying to process the scene she had just witnessed.
“Look, I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries, boo. Trust me, I’ve seen worse. We gon’ finish this interview or nah?” She grinned.
I smiled back at her, knowing that after that comment, she already had the job. If she could handle Nakami, she could handle anything she might encounter at the club. Now the question was, could I handle Nakami and for how fucking long?
Blu
July 2014
I stood in front of the mirror, a nervous wreck; me, Blu Buckley, the bitch who used to twerk sum’n for a few bills, the chick that used to get on a stage surrounded by drunk and horny men and fulfill every single one of their fantasies, the broad that never gave a fuck was about to go on a date and I was sweating bullets like I was testifying in open court.
Something about Kimani scared the shit out of me. After our initial encounter at Grey’s grand opening, we’d exchanged phone numbers and kicked it via text and FaceTime. He was observant, smooth, aggressive, and confident bordering on cocky. He had this sexual aura that bled through the phone, and I couldn’t count how many times I felt my grown ass blushing after the things he said. He was refreshing, sexy and mad cool.
So why was I nervous? Because this nigga seemed too good to be true, and I could definitely see myself falling for him. And that was a big no-no in my book. I had done the relationship thing a time or two, but most niggas thought my job defined me as a person. Because I was a stripper I was expected to be their personal sex slave, their blow-up doll, their 24/7 fantasy. But fuck that! I was a person too! I wanted to be wined, dined and made love to. I grew tired of the constant fucking and late night chill sessions.
Besides the fact that niggas never thought I was good enough for more than a quick nut, I never believed that I was worth more than that either. So once I realized that I deserved better, I sought out better. Or so I thought. Enter Ronelle Kurt. Standing 5’11” with skin the color of a Hershey’s bar and smooth dark hair, I thought Ronelle was it. I loved that man to the edge of the earth and back. That was until I found out the nigga was married with a kid on the way. My dumb ass didn’t take the lack of public outings and the consistent late night rendezvous as signs that something wasn’t right with our relationship before it was too late.
I’d always talked shit about the girls who acted like the earth was ending when their nigga broke up with them, but I finally understood their pain. It was excruciating and unlike anything I’d ever felt before. So I said fuck love and changed my mentality back to being focused on the money. Now the fact that love, feelings and dates were things that were all back on the table terrified me. I was terrified of the set-up and the letdown that was bound to happen. But on the other hand, me and my money were getting lonely. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to get back in the saddle yet. Kimani was a hard man to resist and, because he had been so insistent on taking me out, I finally caved and we set a date. Now the day was here, and I wanted to throw up the fear that was bubbling in my stomach.
“Miss Buckley, you have a guest in the lobby named Mr. Kimani Summers. Would you like me to send him up?” The doorman’s voice boomed through the intercom system.
I walked over to the speaker and pressed a button to speak. “No, tell him I’ll be right down.”
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone from its charger, and exited my luxury pad. I took the elevator down and used the time to check my reflection again to make sure everything was on point.
Dressed in a pair of skin tight white jeans by AG Jeans, a white knit turtleneck crop top with no bra, and a peach colored leather motorcycle jacket by Rebecca Minkoff, I looked fresh and flirty. The white open-toe fringe sandals by Charline De Luca added “umph” to my outfit, and my long blue extensions were pulled up in a high ponytail with a few loose pieces pulled down to frame my face. I had to admit that I looked stunning and cool, without looking like I was trying too hard.
Butterflies fluttered around my stomach as the elevator began to slow. 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, G… I took another deep breath and stepped off the elevator. I smiled wide at the sight of Kimani holding a large bouquet of purple orchids. He smiled that sexy ass grin when he saw me, and my panties got wet right on cue.
“Hey, beautiful.” His voice was raspy and deep; it was a tone that made you want to close your eyes and wish that he was using it to whisper sweet nothings right in your ear.
“Hi,” I said shyly. I walked up on him, taking the flowers from his hand and giving him a church hug. He was not with that. Kimani grabbed me by my waist firmly and pulled my body into his. I could feel his lips lingering near my ear, and I swear I turned to putty right there.
“Don’t try and play me like I’m that ugly nigga with no game that’s always pressing you for a hug. Give a real nigga a real hug, girl,” he whispered.
I blushed so hard that I thought I had permanently changed skin tones. I wrapped my arms around him, giving him the real hug that he requested. His hands roaming my ass didn’t go unnoticed, but I didn’t say anything about it.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“No doubt. You ready to go?”
“Yeah, one second.” I walked over to the concierge desk. “Brent, could you take these up to my place, put them in some water, and set them on the foyer table? There should be some vases underneath the kitchen sink.” I handed him the bouquet.
“No problem, Miss. Buckley. Have a good night.”
Kimani and I walked out of my apartment building and approached his Range. He opened the door for me, and I slid in while he walked around and hopped in on his side. We pulled off with some Miguel playing on low and the sunroof open displaying the starry sky.
Kimani glanced over at me and smiled.
“What?” I asked, starting to feel shy again under his gaze.
“Why you seem so nervous? You were bold as fuck when we met at my brother’s party, and now you’re all quiet.”
I giggled. “You’re going to laugh if I tell you the real reason.”
“Try me.”
“I’ve never been on a real date.”
He was quiet. A perplexed look fell over his face and when he could afford to take his eyes off the road to look at me, he did. “What you mean you’ve never been on a real date?”
“I’ve never been. Like when a dude picks me up, takes me to do shit, pays for it, and takes me to the crib. I’ve never been on a date.” Having to break it down like that was embarrassing.
“Why not?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, but what was I going to say? That I was a reformed hoe who no one respected enough to ask out on a real date? That I was better known as a one-hitter-quitter in most niggas books? The fact that I had already admitted that I’d never been taken out was embarrassing enough.
“You know what? It don’t even matter. You’re going to have your first official date tonight, and I’ll make it one you won’t forget.” He winked at me.
Surprised but elated that he didn’t further press the issue, I smiled and relaxed against the soft peanut butter colored leather seats.
****
“Kimani! What are we doing? We can’t go in here. It’s closed!” I looked at him like he had fucking lost it when he dragged me to the entrance of the Santa Monica Pier. It was damn near midnight, and I just knew this nigga wasn’t about to have me doing no illegal shit.
The date had been hella bomb so far. He’d taken me to Mastro’s in Beverly Hills, and their food was delish. After dinner, we roamed around Beverly Hills until we found a bar we liked and stopped in to talk and grab some drinks.
I’d learned a lot about Kimani, and I was definitely impressed. He’d told me all about his life growing up with Grey in Detroit and the death of his girlfriend that lead him to California. He’d put in a lot of work to make it in the modeling world—taking gigs with little known designers, building his portfolio, and doing practically taking anything he could just so that he could get the attention of a modeling agency. When he signed on with Stephanie Diego, she’d told him that his charm and personality would get him more than a few print and runway gigs. Now he was pursuing a career in acting. I found myself feeling proud of this man that I had just met. We were a lot alike, and I was really enjoying his company.
“Girl, stop being such a damn scaredy cat,” he laughed.
A few moments later, a man walked up to the gate, unlocked the padlock, and
ushered us in. Confused, I stepped past the gate and instantly the whole pier lit up. Kimani took my hand and led me to the cotton candy stand, where there was a man standing behind the counter.
“What is all this?” I asked.
“When you said that you had never been on a date before, I knew I had to make this shit live. I know some people that know some people that like making a little money on the side, so they let us come to enjoy the pier after hours.” He laughed and I joined him. “But seriously, I can’t understand why the niggas you’ve messed with before never noticed how special you are and how deserving you are of something dope.”
I blushed even harder than before. This man was something else.
“So, we got this whole thing to ourselves. What you wanna do first?” he smirked.
I stood there speechless. I was blown away that, after only knowing me for a short amount of time, he cared enough to try and make an impression. I didn’t understand what I had done to deserve someone like him, but I sent a quick one up to God saying thank you. My only fear was that I would let the anxiety inside me stifle what this could grow into. Knowing me and my cold heart, I would end up ruining this before it got started good. But tonight, I would just go with it.
Nakami
July 2014
I walked onto the porch and used one of my ornately decorated stiletto nails to press the doorbell. I watched as the maid came flying into the foyer, walked up, and opened the large wrought-iron doors.
“Good Afternoon, Ms. Yokimura. Your father is waiting for you on the patio.” Phylicia smiled widely and greeted me with open arms. I embraced her and stepped back to introduce her to Grey.
“Phylicia, this is my boyfriend, Kendrick Summers, but you can call him Grey. Grey, this is Phylicia, my old nanny and my dad’s housekeeper.”
Grey smiled and extended his hand for her to shake. She ignored his hand and pulled him into her wide and ample bosom, smothering him with affection.
Long As You Know Who You Belong To Page 4