Big Booty

36

 Ten minutes later, I'm steppin' outta the ladies room with a fresh coat of lip paint and gloss on my lips, swingin' my hips when Big Grizzly steps outta the men's bathroom. Our eyes meet. I grin at 'im.

"Yo, ma, what's good wit' you? You sexy as fuck." I stop. "I was watchin' how you bounce that ass up 'n down on the dance floor. You was poppin' that shit like a champ. That shit is real right."

I grin. "Glad you liked the show, boo."

"Oh, no doubt, ma. You had my dick goin' thru it. You definitely gotta niggah feelin' like gettin' into sumthin' nice 'n wet tonight. Fuck what ya heard. You mad sexy wit' it, too. What's ya name?"

I eye his ass real easy-like, takin' him all in. Oooh, he's uglier than dog shit. But he's over six-feet tall and smellin' like expensive cologne and loads of dollars; just how Big Booty likes 'em. But that waist is a bit too extra for me. And judgin' by the the lump in the front of his Gucci sweats, it looks like the gorilla's hung like a beach whale. Is he fuckable? Yes, sugah-boo, if the price is right and with the lights out. I glance at the diamond pinky ring, the encrusted diamond watch, and the iced out chain around his thick neck. Oh, it's definitely possible. Shit, I've fucked worse when I was tryna keep a roof over my head.

"It's Cassandra."

Oooga Bear licks his lips. "Oh, aiight. That's wassup."

"And you are?"

"Kashmir, but niggahs call me Cash with a Cee, for short."

"And why's that?"

" 'Cause they know I'm about makin' that paper. And I dig makin' it rain on sexy-ass broads, like you."

I grin. "Then tonight's ya lucky night, big daddy. 'Cause I love trickin' niggahs like you up off them dollars."

He laughs. "Yo, that's what it is. So how 'bout we go back on over to my booth over there in VIP, let's toss back a few drinks and get better acquainted. You cool with that?"

The niggah doesn't have to say shit else. I swing my ass over toward VIP while he follows behind watchin' it shake, bounce, 'n pop. When we get over to his booth, the tall sexy tar-black niggah I had my eye on earlier is sittin' in the booth with three other niggahs. All dipped in jewels. There are four three-hundred-dollar bottles of Krug, a bottle of Crown Royal, and a bottle of Rémy XO on the table. Oooga Bear doesn't introduce us. Rude ass! Instead, he grabs the bottle of Rémy and a bottle of Krug, then tells me to follow him to another booth. I walk in back of him, glancin' over my shoulder at Tar Baby. I quickly flick my tongue out on the sly. Oooga Bear waits for me to slide into the booth, then slides in beside me. I frown.

"Ummm, why is you tryna pin me up in this booth, niggah?"

He chuckles. "No harm, ma. I'm only tryna sit close to ya sexy ass and have a few drinks wit' you. But if you want a muhfucka to sit across from you instead, then I will."

I cut my eyes at him. "Pour me some of that Rémy, niggah. But if you try any funny business I'ma stab you in ya balls."

He cracks up laughin' as he pours two glasses of Rémy. "Yo, you real feisty, ma." He slides my glass over. "You really know how'ta make a niggah's dick hard."

"And I know how to ride one, too."

"Is that so?" He raises his glass. "So here's to my hard dick. And you knowin' how'ta ride it."

Our glasses clink.

"So you fuckin'?"

I slide my lips over my glass, then sip my drink real ladylike 'cause I'm tryna keep it real classy tonight 'til some coon sets me off. Then you know I'll have to turn up the flames to hood-ho and set it off. My pussy lips clap, imaginin' givin' this niggah a facial.