“Oh, aiight. You almost here. I’ll be outside waitin’ for you.”
“Aiight, peace.” I disconnect, tossin’ my cell onto the passenger seat. Five minutes later, I’m pullin’ up into the restaurant’s parkin’ area. I spot Tone leanin’ up against the passenger side door of a black S550, talkin’ on his cell. He hangs up when he sees me pullin’ up toward him. I park two cars down, shut off the engine, rake my fingas through my hair, then step out like the fly bitch I am in a pair of stone-washed jeans and a brown pullover and a pair of six-inch light brown python Gucci platform pumps. My Gucci jungle tote hangs in the crook of my arm. The nigga watches and grins as I sashay over to him. His eyes lock on the sway of my hips. I bet the muhfucka thinks I’m throwin’ the pussy at ’im. Niggas!
He’s rockin’ a black True Religion long sleeve tee wit’ the front tucked inside a pair of True Religion Joey jeans. He tops his wears off wit’ a bangin’-ass pair of black Mark Nason square-toed boots and belt. The tee is clingin’ to his muscles. Goddamn, I think, flashin’ him a smile, I mighta been sleepin’ on this young nigga. This muhfucka got body for days. He’s lucky I ain’t a bird. Otherwise he’d be pluckin’ tail feathers tonight.
He smiles wider. “Damn, ma, you lookin’ good.”
“Oh, so what you tryna say?” I tease. “I’m usually busted?”
“Nah, nuthin’ like that. I’m sayin’…you always do ya thang, but to finally get you outside of classes, you the truth, fo’ sho. So can I get a hug?”
I smirk. “I guess. But don’t be tryna press up on me too hard. I don’t wanna have’ta slice ya grill.” He laughs, pullin’ me into his arms. He gives me a quick, but strong, manly hug and kisses me on the cheek. It’s been a long time since a bitch felt a nigga’s arms ’round her. I almost forgot what the shit felt like. I inhale his cologne. The nigga got the nerve to be wearin’ one’a my favorites. My pussy twitches. “OhmyGod, I can’t do this wit’ you. You killin’ me wit’ that Bora Bora.”
He frowns. “Damn, too strong?” he asks, soundin’ disappointed, liftin’ his arm and smellin’ himself. “My bad, ma.”
“Too strong,” I grin. “Nigga, you tryna get ya’self some pussy wearin’ that shit ’round me.”
“Oh shit,” he says, smilin’, “then in that case let me go put on some more.”
“Don’t push ya luck, muhfucka.”
He laughs, takin’ me by the hand and leadin’ me toward the restaurant’s entrance. Surprisin’ly I let ’em get that. Even though I said I wasn’t feelin’ him on any extras, a bitch might need to take a moment to rethink that. Damn, he got some big hands. I peep how his jeans fit his ass and lick my lips wit’out thinkin’. Shit, fuck what ya heard. A bitch is horny! I want a warm, hard body to get it in wit’. A bitch’s tired of fuckin’ these fingas and a buncha dildos. And the muhfucka gotta nice ass, too. I imagine sinkin’ my nails into his plump, juicy ass, pullin’ ’im deep into this pussy. I quickly shake the thought.
Once inside, we’re immediately seated. Five minutes later our waiter comes to the table to take our orders. I order the mac ’n cheese, collard greens, turkey wings and cornbread stuffin’. He gets the steak and shrimp combo wit’ the same sides as me. We both order large pink lemonades. My stomach growls the minute the waiter returns and sits a basket of corn muffins on the table.
“So what do you think about that property management class?” he asks once the waiter dips from the table.
I shrug, placin’ a muffin on a plate. “It’s aiight, I guess. I’m not really interested in managin’ properties. I’m tryna own ’em, ya feel me?”
“Oh no doubt. I’m with you on that. I already have a few properties; I just wanna understand the management side of things.”
“Same here,” I say to ’im. He tells me how he owns two houses in Jersey, a townhome in Delaware, and another spot out here. All this and the nigga’s only twenty-four. When I ask ’im how he was able to make his moves, he tells me used the money and house his grandmother had left ’im in her will. I can’t front, I’m impressed. And I tell ’im so.
“Thanks,” he says, reachin’ for a muffin, then bitin’ into it. He swallows, then says, “By the time I’m forty, I’m tryna be set for life.”
For some reason, my clit twitches. I’m not sure if it’s ’cause e’ery time the muhfucka licks his lips I imagine it’s my clit he’s lickin’, if it’s ’cause the nigga’s on his grind, or ’cause I’m mad horny and he happens to be the only muhfucka out here I’ve given any real convo to in a minute. Whatever the reason,
I wanna fuck! I press my thighs together tryna pinch off the achin’ in my clit. I am relieved when the waiter returns to the table wit’ our orders.
While we’re eatin’, I peep Tone checkin’ me on the sly, but I play it off ’cause I’m checkin’ him, too. He grins. “What? Why you grinnin’ like that? Is there sumthin’ hangin’ from my lips?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m diggin’ your style. You real cool peeps, Kat.”
I smile. “Yeah, I bet you say that to e’ery chick you out wit’.”
“Nah, not at all. I been out here for almost two years, and you the first real dime I’ve come across. And the fact that you from Jersey is a big plus.”
I frown. “Nah, nigga,” I state with much ’tude. “I’m from Brooklyn. I rest in Jersey. Don’t get it twisted.”
“Oh, my bad, beautiful. I stand corrected. And you feisty as hell. That shit’s a turn on, ma.”
“Oh, so that’s what I’m doin’?” I ask, starin’ in his eyes. “Turnin’ you on?”
“No doubt.” He stares at me for a quick minute, then switches up the convo, askin’ if I gotta man out here. He seems surprised when I tell him no. “Damn. And how long you been out here?”
“I’ve been back ’n forth for a minute. But I been playin’ it real heavy here for the last six months.”
“And no one’s tried to snatch you up?”