“Why, you payin’?”

“No doubt,” he said, grinnin’.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I got it, but I’ll buy you a drink,” I said, real sexy-like.

He smiled wider. “Nah, baby, I’m good.”

I licked my lips, roamin’ every inch of his body before lockin’ my eyes on the bulge in his pants. Although there wasn’t much light to really see what was good, there was something ’bout the way he stood that told me he was hangin’ just right. I smiled, stickin’ the tip of my tongue outta the side of my mouth. “I bet you are,” I said, brushin’ past him, leavin’ him with his tongue waggin’ as I headed back over to Chanel. Tamia was now sittin’ at the table, sippin’ on a drink.

“Bitch, where you been all this time?” Tamia asked, smilin’.

“In that long-ass line tryna get these drinks,” I said, handin’ Chanel her order.

“Thanks,” Chanel said, takin’ the shot straight to the head.

“Then this fine-ass nigga was tryna get his rap game on, but I gave him no play.”

Tamia rolled her eyes all dramatic and whatnot. “You are so fuckin’ tired with that bullshit. You’re gonna end up an old-ass maid with a dried-up, dusty-ass pussy if you don’t stop tryna be so stuck the fuck up. How the hell you think you’re gonna get some dick, actin’ all stank anytime a nigga tries to get at you?”

I flipped her the finga. “For your information, ho, I gets dick, trust. I don’t let you vultures know ’bout it.” Well, what I said really wasn’t a lie. I mean, I was fuckin’. I was killin’ the niggas afterward. Still, I was gettin’ dick, and that’s all that mattered.

Chanel giggled. “Yeah, you fuckin’ alright. Fuckin’ the skin off them damn fingas.” Tamia fell out laughin’. Just then, the nigga from the bar was comin’ toward our table, grinnin’.

“Who the fuck is that fine-ass muhfucka right there?” Chanel questioned, tossin’ her head in his direction, then sittin’ up in her seat. “My God, that nigga looks like he’s paid out the ass. I’d fuck him on the spot.”