Big Juicy Lips (12 page)

D
ane, Monroe, Ashy Cashy, and Edison stood at the end of a long line of anxious hopefuls waiting to get inside Hades, Philly’s newest hotspot.

All heads turned when Misty rolled up. She got out of the eye-catching SUV and tossed her keys to the valet. Having made the appropriate connections and peeled off the right amount of cash, Misty glided past the velvet rope, making it a point to step back and fling Dane a triumphant look before she breezed inside the club.
Fuck with me, mufucka!

Inside Hades, she checked out the décor. Images of flames adorned everything from the walls and furniture to the uniforms worn by staff. Even the lamp shades and various light coverings were designed in the shape of flames. Cute, in a trashy sort of way.

Later, after being whisked up to the elevated VIP area, Misty stood at the balcony overlooking the action downstairs. Niggas dressed in their finest were out in droves down on the main floor. Sports figures, local celebrities, and ballers mingled in the VIP area. A blinged-out baller had his eye on Misty. She ignored him. With her cell pressed against her ear, she gave instructions to Big Boy, the bouncer. She told him to pull Monroe out of the long line and send him up to the VIP room.

She took the phone away from her ear while the bouncer went looking for Monroe. Apparently, the big baller thought the end of her phone call meant she had some time for him. When she saw his slimy swagger easing up to her, she turned her back. It felt good to ignore mufuckas. Fuck a baller; she had her own cheese.

“Which one of y’all nigga’s name is Monroe?” Big Boy’s booming voice demanded. Misty giggled, imagining Monroe shrinking back in dread, fearful that his under-twenty-one status had been peeped before he’d even made it to the middle of the outrageously long line.

“I’ma ax one more time, then all y’all gon’ have to start pullin’ out ID. Which one of y’all niggas is named Monroe?”

“Tell him your name, man!” Ashy Cashy encouraged. The sound of his grating voice made Misty frown. She disliked everything about the unattractive boy.

“Yo, whaddup, my man?” Monroe piped in. “I’m Monroe.”

Misty suppressed a giggle when she heard the tremble in Monroe’s voice. He tried to his conceal his trepidation by deepening his tone, and assuming a cavalier attitude, but it didn’t work; a crack in his voice revealed his trepidation.
Ha-ha!
she cackled in her head.

“Yo, come with me, man.”

“What I do?” Monroe lost his cool; his voice went up an octave.

Big Boy lightened up his gruff tone. “Calm down, my man. Someone sent you a personal invitation. Your party’s waiting for you up in the VIP room.”

“What about the rest of us?” There was a tinge of desperation in Ashy Cashy’s voice.

“Just Monroe,” Big Boy responded sternly.

“Yo, Monroe. You gon’ dip up in there without us?” Dane asked incredulously.

“Yo, dawg. I know you ain’t gon’ leave us out here like this?” Muscle Boy sounded irate.

Had Misty thought the situation through, she would have offered Big Boy even more money to videotape the scenario. She would have gladly paid extra to witness the look on Dane’s face while he watched Monroe being personally ushered inside the prestigious club.
“Ha!”
she cackled out loud as she snapped her phone closed. She didn’t stop grinning until Monroe was escorted up to the VIP room.

Monroe joined Misty at the balcony. “What’s good, shawty?” he said with an air of cockiness.

She rolled her eyes and then gave him a long, speculative look. “What’s good?” She made a waving gesture. “This VIP treatment—that’s what’s good, nigga. Don’t I get a thank you or something for getting you out of that long-ass line?”

“Oh, yeah; no doubt. Good looking out,” he remarked coolly, demonstrating an ability to maintain his composure despite the posh environment and the sprinkling of local celebrities in close proximity.

Misty sucked her teeth as she caught a glimpse of Monroe’s dark eyes sneakily darting about, gleaming in appropriate awe of his good fortune. “Whatchu drinking, youngin’?”

“Um, Budweiser?” Monroe posed his selection in the form of a question.

“That’s it?”

He touched his pockets. “That’s all I can do. I’m kind of light right now.”

“Like I said, it’s all good. You’re my guest. You’re drinking on me.”

“Yo, word? That’s whassup.” Monroe’s eyes lit up and appeared to spin delightedly inside his eye sockets.

“Finally!”

“Finally, what?”

“You’re finally showing a little appreciation.” Misty smiled.

Monroe glanced downward. “Aw, you ain’t gotta come at me like that.”

“I’m just saying—” She stared him down.

“I feel you,” he said, nodding. “Thanks.”

“That’s better,” Misty acknowledged and then beckoned a bigtitty waitress. The waitress looked all right. Cute, but not spectacular. She most definitely was not competition for Misty. Then again, few were. All her life, her mother, her teachers, neighbors—everyone—either told her in words or demonstrated with preferential treatment that she was the prettiest girl in the world. To this day, Misty knew with all her heart that Beyonce, Shakira, Halle, and Kim Kardashian all rolled into one couldn’t touch her beauty.

Swinging her hips like she knew she was hot, the dark-skinned waitress approached Misty and Monroe. Misty was amused by the degree of confidence in such an average-looking woman. In keeping with the red-flame theme, the waitresses wore a tight-fitting, button-down top adorned with sequined flames and a short, fire-red, curve-hugging skirt.

“Hi. I’m Felice,” she said, wearing a big smile that attested that she was extremely pleased with herself. Long shapely legs, a tiny waistline, and a set of what appeared to be double-D boobs had Felice thinking she was the shit.

Misty wasn’t intimidated by a pair of big titties or a big ass. Shit, that was all the bimbo had going for her. Still, she was irked that Monroe was damn near drooling over the damn waitress when he wouldn’t even be up in this dip if it weren’t for her generosity.

She peeped Monroe giving the waitress the eye. On the sly, the young buck was giving a subtle head nod, acknowledging appreciation of Felice’s body parts. His slimy attempt to communicate with Felice was irritating.

The misbehavior on Felice’s part did not escape Misty. She saw the waitress flirt with Monroe, moistening her dark lips, and coyly fluttering her fake lashes.

Uh-huh, I’ma deal with these two slimy bitches, later.

With his eyes glued to Felice’s breasts, Monroe slowly pondered his liquor choices. “Um, lemme see…um…gimme a shot of Henny and um…a bottle of Bud.”

“Give him a double Henny and a Bud,” Misty interjected sharply.

“Thanks, shawty.” Monroe smiled at Misty and then his gaze wandered back to Felice’s boobs and lingered there.

“Bring me a Gold Digger.”

Felice tilted her head in bewilderment. “A Gold Digger? What’s that?”

“Goldschlager Schnapps and champagne,” Misty explained. “The bartender should know how to make it,” she added with annoyance. “By the way, we’ll be sitting in my private booth over there.” With an arrogant smirk, Misty nodded toward a secluded booth in the back. “But we’ll have the first few rounds out here.” She gazed over the balcony and smiled. Monroe looked down also. “Enjoying the view?” She winked at Monroe.

Monroe fixed admiring eyes on Misty. “Yeah, the view is all that. But damn, you got us a private booth and everything? Man, I dig the way you roll.” He bent down and gave Misty a quick peck on the lips. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” Monroe said, smiling.

None too pleased that Monroe’s attention was no longer focused on her, Felice took the orders and sashayed away, showing off another physical attribute—her plump, nicely rounded ass. Monroe’s dick took notice and thumped inside his pants.

The disrespectful flirtatious behavior that had gone on right under her nose was duly noted. Misty would handle the hot-to-trot waitress and ungrateful-ass Monroe in time. Right now, her mind was on Dane and her eyes were focused on the door.

By the time Dane and his boys trudged in, Monroe was working on his third round of drinks. Misty, however, needing to keep a level head, was still slowly sipping her first gold-flecked drink.

She watched Dane take in his surroundings. When he looked upward, spotting her and Monroe, Misty leaned toward Monroe. “Were you hitting on the waitress?” she asked softly. Monroe shook his head in denial. “Yes, you were! But I’m not mad at you. You can tap that ass, if that’s what you want.” Misty gestured excessively and spoke louder than necessary, trying to attract Dane’s attention.

“Nah, nah. See. It wasn’t even about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m still gonna let you get with me.”

“For real?”

“But there’s a catch,” Misty said teasingly.

Monroe lifted his chin inquiringly.

“You gotta fuck her first. Then you can have some of this.”

“For real?” Excitement glinted in his eyes. Then, worry clouded his face. “How? You gon’ hook up a threesome at your crib, later on?”

“Yeah, I’ll see how Miss Felice reacts after I give her a nice tip.”

Encouraged by the promise of a ménage à trois and unaware that his boys had finally gained entry and were all watching, Monroe draped an arm around Misty and pulled her closer. She felt Monroe’s member swell against her hip as she glanced over the balcony and smirked down at Dane.
Fuck with me, mufucka!
Her smirk was met by Dane’s hostile glare.

Misty enjoyed seeing the fury on Dane’s face. Even Ashy Cashy, as if he’d been personally slighted, looked mad as hell. His angry lips were turned down in scornful disapproval. She could feel the heat of their anger rising up to the balcony like a raging fire, but distance and the thumping club music prevented her the pleasure of hearing Dane and his crew’s scathing comments about her and the traitor, Monroe.

Monroe towered over Misty. She had to stand on her toes to stroke his cheek and run her finger across his lips. “Been thinking about you, youngin’. I tried to get you outta my mind…” She shook her head regretfully. “But I can’t. That night with you was so good; I get hot just picturing your thick private. You’re well hung, like a stallion.”

“So, if you was feeling me like that, why you push up on my cousin?”

Misty shrugged. “Because of your age. You’re only nineteen.”

“So what? I’m not a minor.”

“You’re under twenty-one,” she reminded him. “But tonight, your age ain’t nothing but a number…” She moistened her lips. “I’m in the mood for some raunchy pleasure—how you feel about that, youngin’?”

“I’m all up in it!” Grinning, he turned the beer bottle up to his lips for another pull.

Misty reached up, fondled his neck. It was an intimate gesture, designed to send tingles up Monroe’s spine and put more fire in Dane’s jealous eyes.

Ashy Cashy shifted his feet, agitated. He hollered something crude and gave Misty the finger.

“Fuck you!” she mouthed over the blaring music, and also gave him the finger.

Monroe looked down. Shocked that he’d been spotted by his crew, he raised his arms apologetically, as if being in Misty’s company was out of his control. Misty distracted him by rubbing her hand over his crotch, causing his length to stiffen. Gently, she circled the rounded head of his dick, rubbed softly until she felt moisture seep through his pants.

Eyes closed, lips slack, Monroe quickly forgot about his friends on the floor below.

Livid, Dane spat obscenities that she couldn’t make out. He glared at the illicit lovers with icy disdain.

Putting on a show for Dane and his two irate cronies, she caressed the top of Monroe’s hand, which was placed palm down on top of the balcony ledge in clear view. With her fingertips, she invaded the area between his four fingers; enticing his flesh with soft, feathery caresses.

Excited, Monroe’s breathing pattern began to change. “That feels good. Damn, shawty, you really know how to get a nigga heated.” Monroe kissed Misty, gave tongue, which she gladly accepted and returned the favor. Finally, enough was enough. She broke the kiss and searched the crowd below, straining her eyes to locate Dane; trying to gauge his reaction to the lustful exhibition taking place on the VIP level.

Dane and the two street hustlers were advancing toward the dance floor to get a closer look at a big-behind woman, who was moving her ass and wiggling around like a stripper.

A stab of disappointment sliced through Misty so deeply, her first impulse was to push Monroe away and then cuss him out for slobbering all over her face. But, she had a sudden change of heart. From her peripheral vision, she saw their busty waitress approach.

“Are you two okay?” Felice asked. Her tone held the hint of an attitude.

“We could be better.” Misty gave her a wide smile.

Felice eyed Misty’s half-filled drink. “Do you want another one?”

Misty shook her head and crooked her finger, gesturing that she wanted to speak privately. Monroe stepped back while Misty slipped Felice some folded cash and whispered an invitation for her to join her and Monroe in their private booth as soon as she could get a break.