"Oh, I think you've found your perfect pair," The representative expresses.
I stare at the red stiletto pumps through the mirror while grinning. "I think so, too," I take a picture of the shoes on my feet and send a flattering photo to my girlfriend, Joan. We've been friends for 10 years. In college, she was my roommate and ever since then, we have been two peas in a pod.
Joan is a lesbian and I strictly like dick. Did she ever try anything? No, not at all. I love Joan because she is the type of woman to say: "I'm a lesbian, not a hoe. I have standards and you are below them," That's my girl.
I considered her as an attractive woman. Especially since she started living a natural life and gone on a journey in finding herself. Joan is one of those conscious Afro-American sistahs with long luscious locs and West African Adinkrah symbol tattoos on her vegan slender, but curvaceous body. Joan text back, "Ohh, those are sexy! Rawr!"
Smiling, I knew these were the shoes for me! Deciding to buy these sexy pumps, I go up to the register to purchase them. Texting Joan back, "Yes, girl! I love how they complement my skin tone. J"
"Would you like to buy some shoe solution?" The representative asks.
I shake my head, "No, that will be all," I quickly look up at the woman. Joan says "So do I. You're like a walking dark chocolate strawberry. Hmmm, delicious," I smile at the text as Joan makes me feel sexy in my skin. "You always say the right things when I do retail therapy. I love you,"
On the way home, I stop by the store to pick up some Chardonnay because this weekend, my man is out of town and I want to cater to myself. With my phone in between my legs, it vibrates when Joan texts back. I slightly jump due to the intense vibration sensation.
The intensity puts me in the mood with the hopes of Joan texting me again, but she doesn't. Once I get home, I finally read Joan's text. "I love you more, Queen with your chocolate ass. What are you doing tonight?"
Smiling as I settle into my apartment, "I am going to cook myself some dinner, watch something on Netflix while indulging my favorite wine," Not texting me back immediately, I know Joan just got off work and heading to yoga afterwards. "Hmm, what to eat tonight?" I look inside the fridge as if something is going to pop out and say "eat me" then I close the door and order some pizza. I have been good to my body for a month, so why not have a night of indulging in my favorite deep dish extra cheese and pepperoni pizza?
While waiting for my pizza, I open up the bottle of wine and relax on the couch with nothing but a white T-shirt, purple panties and my favorite mid-length lime green socks. I wrap my Bantu knots and enjoy a quiet evening by myself. Suddenly, my phone vibrates, I notice Joan sends me a picture. It is a photo of Joan doing a yoga pose with a caption that reads: "Namaste."
"You make yoga look sexy. I may need to take some classes with you," I sit down on my couch in Indian style. I catch myself biting my lip for some reason.
"I will be more than happy to start your journey of yoga. Assisting and guiding you will be very rewarding and an honor. You will thank me once your body is more flexible with less tension. It's a great stress reliever,"
"You're trying to stretch me out, Joan?" I uncross my legs as my posture straightens. Rethinking my response, I begin to think that maybe I'm drinking too much wine with the mixture of the urge to masturbate from earlier.
I trace my finger from my collarbone, down my shirt then softly grazing my fingers over my panty clothed pussy. I am so horny, but I didn't want to fuck myself right then and there. I want my body to deprive until I can't take it anymore. Tracing my finger over my underwear, my pussy felt so warm and inviting as I cuff it slightly; loving on my fat lips.
