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Amara rolled her eyes as a man approached her at the bar.
"Excuse me miss, can I talk to you for a minute?"
His accent was New York and surprisingly charming. But Amara kept her attention on her phone where her acrylic nails promptly scrolled through her Instagram Feed.
"Miss," he repeated, louder.
Amara's eyebrows shot up. Slowly, she elevated her head and made eye contact with the persistent (annoying) stranger. He must've been 6 feet, had nice skin and hands. This meant nothing to Amara, though.
"It's about time you looked at me, beautiful." He revealed a nice smile. "My friend wants to meet you."
Amara grimaced. "He couldn't come to me himself? Tell him don't bother." She scoffed and shooed him away. "I bet his balls are the size of my eyes. Aye dios mio."
The man laughed. "It's not a he. She's a woman."
This wasn't what she expected to hear, but she shrugged. "Okay, so? The same rules apply. Her legs don't work?"
Shawn smirked. "Oh, they work. She just wanted to make sure you were interested, and you are." He reached into his pocket to take out his phone.
"No, now who said all of that? I simply said if she's interested, she can come to me and tell me herself. Period!"
"Yeah, she's down," Shawn said into his phone.
Amara narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you, pimps?"
He contorted his face and laughed. "Hell no. We're not in that kind of business. We just like bad women."
"Tuh, well if you think I'm having a threesome, you need to get the hell out my face!"
Suddenly a woman of a caramel shade with long bountiful hair in a skintight dress paired with Manolos walked over. She smiled but looked at Shawn in confusion. "What's going on here?" she asked. Her voice was warm and smooth.
"She thought we wanted a threesome," Shawn explained, shaking his head.
Amara saw plenty of women around with their ass and titties out, but there was something unique about the woman standing in front of her. Even with the accentuation of her voluptuous body in that dress, she still emitted an ethereal vibe. And she smelled just as good as she looked judging by her fragrance.
She and Amara locked eyes and Amara involuntarily felt heat.
"I'm Beyonce," the woman said, flashing a smile. "And you are?"
"Amara."
"Amara. It suits you."
"Thank you, so does yours."
"Thank you. I'm sorry if my friend here made you uncomfortable."
"I just need to make it clear that I'm not having a threesome."
"And that's fine. I want you to myself."
Amara opened and then closed her mouth. Shawn chuckled and patted Beyonce's back before walking away.
"What was that? Why did he do that?" Amara suddenly demanded.
Beyonce looked over her shoulder and then at Amara, confused. "Why did he do what?"
"He patted your back as he walked away, laughing! Is this some kind of sick prank?"
"Don't tell me to calm down. I don't know who you people are and what you want."
Beyonce rubbed Amara's shoulder. "You know my name, you might know that I own many businesses. As for what I want, I already told you." Her eyes drifted from south to north on Amara's body.
Amara just frowned.
"I want to get to know you," Beyonce said, tucking a manicured digit under Amara's chin.
"Yeah, for one night." Amara rolled her eyes and leaned back.
"You want more than that?"
"No, I meant you obviously just want my pussy."
Beyonce hummed sensually, her gaze turning deeper. "Can you blame me? Amara, you're gorgeous. Breathtaking." Her eyes swallowed every inch of Amara's curvaceous body and chocolate doll-like features. Beyonce bit her bottom lip and placed her hand on the woman's thigh.
Amara was becoming flustered. Sure, people often hit on her--when they weren't intimidated that is, but she was intrigued by this Beyonce woman who was not only a beauty herself but confident and apparently financially stable.
"What kinda business do you do, Miss Beyonce?"
"I'm in the business of spas, furniture, and heaters."
Amara's mouth opened. "Are you serious?"
Beyonce smiled proudly. "As a heart attack. How about you?"
"I'm a drama teacher. Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills."
"Nothing wrong with drama teachers. I can see you doing that."
"'Cause I'm dramatic." Amara smirked.
"In the bedroom too?"
Amara hid a smile. "I don't know Beyonce, let's see." Without another word, she got up and walked away, switching her hips. Beyonce hungrily observed the way Amara's ass moved in her velour dress.
