It took a while to build up the courage to call her, but I did. Right off the back I was grateful because she put me at ease, sounding eager to see me.
She invited me to her home in Oakland, a four-bedroom house she owned herself. She bought it with insurance money her grandparents left her after hurricane Katrina and her own undercover business sense. She rented out the extra rooms to girls she worked with, the "normal ones" as she put it, turning the house into a nice source of income.
She answered the door in a cute yellow sundress and flat sandals. Simple. But the simple dress fell erotically over her perky nipples, creating a delicious outline over her braless breasts. Her cleavage was buffed to a glossy glow, making her firm tits look like caramel apples, coated with the creamy finish of a Werther's original.
Her smooth, butter cream skin glistened under the sun. It showed itself off wherever it wanted under the dress's high hem and spaghetti straps. She was sexy in a low-key, housewifey kind of way, like she dressed for a relaxed day in the backyard garden.
She wore no tall heels, no make-up, just her in raw beauty, showing off the natural sex appeal women are blessed with. Her only accessories were a French tip manicure and pedicure, and she was still too fine to be fucked with.
"Damn you look good," I said astonishingly, overwhelmed by how fine she was.
"Aww, you're a charmer," she returned, tilting her head shyly and moving a lock of beautiful brown curls away from her face. I hadn't mentioned her hair. The night at the club it was straightened, but now it was a huge mane of golden curly locks. They were wild and natural, a unique display of randomness formed into perfect chaos.
"So where we goin'?" she asked, locking the door behind her and putting her keys in her purse.
"There's an ice cream shop close by that everyone's talking about."
"Ice cream?" She squinched her face like a little kid offered broccoli.
"What? You don't like ice cream?" The thought alone was ridiculous.
"I do... mais... iunno... men don't usually wanna take me out for ice cream. They're usually tryna go somewhere where alcohol's involved."
"Well damn girl! We just met and you already tryna get me drunk!?" I joked.
"You so silly," she laughed, flashing me her priceless smile. It was the most brilliant, gorgeous smile. I felt like I won the lottery just by making it happen. "It's usually night time too. But you're different... I like that. Aight, let's go. I love ice cream."
We walked off the porch and I saw her pause for a moment to observe our choices.
I had a Honda Civic I bought for a couple grand when I was sixteen. In my fantasies I turned it into something awesome, a rice rocket worthy of The Fast and the Furious. In reality I only ended up spending all my money trying to keep the damn thing running.
She had a brand new Mercedes.
"We're taking my car," she said, taking her keys back out of her purse. She walked over to her car without a pause to vote. I didn't mind. I spent the whole drive there with no AC, so I was glad she didn't have to find that out.
I followed her to her car, trailing two steps behind. The cute little sway in her hips mesmerized me. Her dress slightly gathered at the small of her back and fell far from the back of her thighs because of her booty's plumpness.
She pretended not to notice and let me follow her rhythm unbothered, switching me left to right all the way to the car. I wanted to wrap my hands around her waist and groove with that rhythm, but I was honestly scared. She was so fine it was intimidating.
YOU ARE READING
A Thin Line Between Love and Lust: A Poly Love Story
RomanceDominique - A hurricane tore this sweet southern girl from her family. She moved to California to escape the memories and forget the pain. It worked. The fast life drew her in and before she knew it, she was dancing for dollars at strip clubs. She w...
