Her Fat Coochied Private Photographer

loose weaves and ends

I entered the  receptionist room silently, staring at my French manicured toes. Mrs.Knowles would be in this building soon, I thought.

My coochie shivered at the thought of breathing the same air as her. But I had to remain professional if I hoped to be hired.

I was a talented photographer and...a lesbian. More importantly, I had been offered a job to work with world renowned Beyoncé. Her name sent chills down my spine.

Reaching into my purse I took out my fenty hand mirror and checked my lace front. The glue was lifting a little but not enough for her to notice. I had to nail this interview! No matter the cost.

"Ms. Y/N, she is ready to see you" a worker with long Brazilian bundles cooed smiling at me. "Y-yes!" I stuttered standing up. My skirt got caught on the chair and rode up a little but I was to embarrassed to fix it.

I entered the conference room shaking. A long marble table sat between me, Mrs.Knowles and Jay z. "Hello Mrs.Knowles! I'm Y/N, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm a gigantic fan!" I blurted out blushing.

Beyoncé looked up at me, her right eye obscured by a big ass hat covered in flowers that matched her sleeveless dress.

She looked me up and down smiling and opened her mouth "I  can see your 4C" she smirked and crossed her arms. Jay z stifled a chuckle.

"M-my what" I grabbed the top of my head  realizing my wig must have came all the way undone. Why didn't that worker tell me. "Never mind that, sit down," she waved her diamond encrusted nails "we're here to talk about your job, not that mess on your head."
She giggled.

"Ah yes ma'am! I apologize for my a-appearance!" I stammered sweating bullets. "Don't apologize...and please, call me Yoncé"
"Anything for you Mrs.know- I..I mean Yoncé!"

And that was how my job as Beyoncé's private photographer began.