I place down my fork. I’m only hungry for what’s between her thighs. “Porn?”
“No, sheesh! The stimulating dialogue between young, beautiful Black actors. Tate plays Darius. He recites poetry like he’d written it himself. Love Jones explores love through words—”
Aye. This again. Words. I’m the bawbag who needs nae words to fulfill my goals with the opposite sex. Then Justice came along.
“Ye got me sitting in suspense.” I’m at the edge of my seat, zeroing in on her lips, and she’s oblivious. Her excitement’s eating her with the same dedication that I will soon. “Ye know the poem?”
More of her smiles are etched in my brain. I mean, more images of her grinning while sucking me good. I gaze at how her ass and hips spill over the sides of the stool. Are the walls of her pussy as juicy, thick, and soft? Now, I’ve more words to describe Justice’s sex than I’ve ever cared for. Last time I checked, I called a cunt a cunt.
“Okay, imagine jazz music. ‘Say, baby,’ ” she says, beginning to recite in a smooth tone. “ ‘Walk that walk, money . . .’ ”
When she recites, “Pursuing you as my prey,”I have to agree that the Darius lad is on to something.
“ ‘I’m the blues in your left thigh.’ ” Her recitation slows as she comes to an end.
I’m king of the fecking jungle, and I’ll devour Justice until her best memories of some shite-movie are replaced. Till every time she walks that fecking walk of hers, with each step, thinking of me causes an orgasm.
I’ll be in her head—in her bed—surrounding her.
Thank ye, Darius, Lance, Lorenz, wit ever the feck yer name is.
Some of the high surrounding Justice fades. “Ahem, that was written by Regie Gibson, “Brother to the Night.” At my age, I had to sneak around, but I stalked him as well as other poets of his magnitude.”
“Yer guy, eh, Lor- Lance, he recite that type of stuff for ye?”
She stiffens. Feck, wrong question. Cutting more pancakes with the side of her fork, Justice mutters, “Not at all. I’ll say he had the voice. I wrote for him. However, he focused on others, what the crowd craved. That’s what ate him alive, really.”
If we’re keeping a tally of words, only one matters at the moment—neglected.
That idiot Lance had disregarded Justice. I lift my drink to her. Guess I should be thanking the dead bampot too. I smile at that. “If a good poem like that could get me between those thighs of yers—”
“Oh, shut up.” She shakes her head with a laugh. That sound stirs the predator more than big tits and silky legs splayed wide open ever did.
Challenge accepted.