Belle (Urban Fiction)

M I G U E L

James barely said anything to Sandra during the drive to the house party. From his experience, females sometimes twisted simple conversations into clit sucking, titi grabbing, etc. They always took advantage of his white boy charm and good looks. But, right now, he really didn't need anything coming between him and Trish. He planned on wifing her eventually and did not want rumors and lies messing that up.

"Thanks," Sandra said as she made a movie star exit from his white 2013 Lexus RX 350.

"Ain't no cameras, girl," James laughed as he noticed Sandra standing like she was waiting for imaginary paparazzi. "Go in."

Her hair was in an air-dried messy bun. She knew she was the shit as she strutted to the front door of the brightly lit (inside and out) mansion. There were cars flooding the extended driveway. Porsches... Zenvos... Paganis. Whoever was at this party definitely had money!

Sandra banged on the heavy wooden front door as loud as she could over the trap music shaking the walls. She looked down at her feet as she waited.

A few seconds later, someone snatched the door open with a wide grin on their face. Sandra had one too until she realized who it was. Miguel.

He let her in casually as if he didn't feel the undeniable tension between the two. Sandra pushed past Miguel and almost knocked him off his feet.

She immediately spotted Trish and practically ran to her. "Baby girl!" Trish hugged Sandra.

"Hey, Miami," Sandra greeted the black girl standing next to Trish. Miami also worked at King of Diamonds, but she wasn't all dat.

"Who's house is this?" Sandra shouted to Trish over Big Daddy by Nicki Minaj & Meek Mill.

"Miguel's. He invited all the dancers."

Sandra took a look around to see if that was the truth. To her surprise, it was. Every single one of her coworkers was sprawled in either the kitchen or living room where she was.

"What the-"

Just as Sandra said that, a voice blared through every synced speaker mantled on the beige walls of the house. "Just to spice it up a little, I want all my Diamond girls," Miguel referred to his strippers, "to come to the middle of the floor. Show the guests a lil sum-sum."

Sandra looked up and saw him on the rail of the grand staircase with a microphone. He winked at her. She looked down in disgust. There was no way she was going to be Miguel's little monkey fool. She danced at King of Diamonds only. No place outside of there.

Trish and Miami, on the other hand, wasted no time rushing to the middle of the floor twerking on eachother and bouncing around. Sandra rolled her eyes at their lack of dignity or self-respect.

Slow Motion by Trey Songz blared through the many speakers throughout the house. Sandra was secretly feeling the music as she sat idle on the couch. She was looking in the direction of the women dancing and felt the sudden body heat of another by her.

Sandra looked to her right and there he was. Miguel was sitting right there all in her personal space. He had a sly smile on his lips.

"Muhhfucka, I will cut you," she said casually as if she hadn't just deadass threatened his being. She looked away from him snobbishly and back to the women.

"Wouldn't bother me," Miguel winked. "I'm into that kinky shit."

Sandra smothered a smile and pushed him playfully. "Why you always following me?"

"You came to me," he put his hand on his chest, "so seems like I'm the one being followed."

"Ha. I beg to differ, dick head."