Booty Call *69 (6 page)

“Ill! I got a fucking pit bull waiting for me outside, right?”

“No! Go chat with him…homeboy pushin’ a Lexus,” she adds.

I want to turn away from this so-called, double-blind date Sasha’s planned. I know he’s ugly just from the tone of her voice when she described him to me; she didn’t sound so excited about the guy. But I’m a woman of my word, and I promised to come with her.

We walk out together toward the truck. I desperately try to see inside the window, to get a better glance at my doomed blind date. “Promise to be nice to him, Shana,” Sasha pleads. But that’s a promise I know I can’t keep; if he doesn’t attract me, why be nice? I believe in getting shit out the way fast, let a brotha know the situation between him and me:
I’m not interested!
Plain and simple.

As we get closer to the truck, Cell steps out from the driver’s side and walks up to the both of us.
Ee-ill
…he looks different from the other night. I didn’t realize that he was so ugly up close in good light. His face looks fat and swollen, and his lips protrude more than I thought they did—especially the bottom one. He has a weak fade and his gear is totally off balance; he’s wearing black slacks, alligator shoes and a tight, bright yellow, muscle shirt. Muscle shirts are not sexy!

His arms are large, but so is his gut. And to think, Sasha actually gave him some head and fucked him. “How you doing?” he asks. His voice
is loud and raspy, and he sounds retarded. He stares at me, making me feel uncomfortable.

A few seconds later, his friend steps out from the back seat of the truck. He looks even worse. His eyes are big like a fucking bug’s, and he has an unattractive, scruffy goatee. His lips are chapped and his hair is braided in tiny twists, which make his head look deformed and weird. He has a shiny, gold tooth in the right corner of his mouth and a thick, gold rope chain hangs from around his neck. They’re so played out. He also has the nerve to be wearing a bright orange shirt with the collar flipped up, like he’s Elvis, and a pair of cream-colored khaki pants. I want to throw up!

He introduces himself as Jimmy, and he extends his hand. I stand there and just look at him. I’m not shaking his hand. I don’t want to touch him. I look over at Sasha. She knows the deal. I want to strangle her for hooking me up with some horrendous looking shit like him. I don’t want to be seen anywhere in public with him.

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper in her ear after pulling her to the side.

“Jimmy…”

“I’m not going out. Shit, I don’t even wanna be seen with him. That niggah is so ugly I’m about to throw up,” I warn.

“C’mon, Shana, just chill. You ain’t gotta fuck him; just keep him company. He’s a nice guy.”

She pleads and begs, but I refuse to give in. Fuck a promise. He makes me shiver every time I turn around and look at him…he’s just so ugly.
Cell and Jimmy stand next to the truck, talking and waiting. Sasha goes as far as offering me fifty dollars. Then she offers me a hundred. I agree to the hundred, and she slips it to me on the low. I take a deep breath, exhale and walk back over to the truck.

“Y’all ready?” Cell asks.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Sasha says.

Jimmy—Mr. Too Ugly—tries to be a gentleman and opens the passenger door for me. I give him a nasty look and let myself in through the other door. Cell looks back at me and then over at Sasha. Jimmy enters the truck last and manages to smile at me. I sit as close to the door as I can.

Cell suggests that we go out to this nightclub in Brooklyn called The Jackpot. It’s becoming one of the more popular night spots. He has friends there that will let us all in for free—no long lines, no waiting. I outright refuse to go; the Jackpot is a well-known spot. Everybody goes there, and I do mean everybody. Unfortunately, my refusal is overruled by a three-to-one vote.

Mr. Too Ugly is trying to make conversation. He keeps glancing over at me and smiling. “You go to school?” he asks. His voice and speech are so ugly. I ignore him and just stare out the window. Sasha looks back at me, and I give her a counterfeit smile, while thinking,
yeah bitch, you’re gonna get yours.
“You got a man?” Mr. Too Ugly is still smiling and trying to be friendly. I go on ignoring him, asking Cell to turn up the radio a little. As I continue staring out the window, I can feel his eyes trying to undress me. It gives me goose bumps, just thinking about him seeing me naked. “You’re so beautiful.”

I don’t respond. He tries to put his hand on my knee. I turn and glare at him like he’s crazy, and I quickly smack it away. “Don’t touch me,” I
say in a harsh tone.

Sasha and Cell are chillin’ up front, while I’m in the back seat trying to tame a wild animal.

“You don’t speak?” he asks.

“Only if interested,” I spit back.

I’ve already said six words too many to him.
Why me?
Mr. Too Ugly starts making conversation with his boy up front. I guess he’s beginning to get the picture. I cross my legs and try to isolate myself from everyone in the truck as much as I can.
As soon as we get to the club, I’m ditching Sasha, Cell and The Creature From the Black Lagoon
.

We pull up in front of the club. There are so many people outside it looks like the Grammys. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t be seen with him—not in
this
fucking lifetime. Cell parks the car and everyone gets out except me.

“C’mon, Shana,” Sasha says.

Cell and Jimmy look at me, and I catch a serious attitude.

“What’s up with your girl?” Cell asks Sasha.

“Shana, what’s the matter? You coming or what?”

“What the fuck do you mean,
what’s the matter?
You know what the deal is, bitch,” I protest.

Sasha’s face tightens and her eyes become slits. Cell and Jimmy look at each other and then glance back at me. “I think y’all two ladies need to sort this out in private. Jimmy and I will be standing at the corner,” Cell says. They walk slowly toward the corner, and Sasha’s focus is now totally on me.

“Get the fuck out the car, bitch!” she snaps.

“I know you not about to trip!” I bark.

“No, I’m not gonna trip, but why the fuck you gotta be embarrassing
me like this? All I’m asking is for you to just keep him company. You act like I want you to give him the world, bitch. You can keep your stingy pussy to yourself.”

I don’t say anything back to Sasha; I just stare at her and slowly step out of the truck. She looks at me and walks away. I follow her. Cell and Jimmy are at the corner waiting for us. When we get to the corner, Sasha walks off with Cell and Jimmy remains standing there. He’s still smiling, and it’s getting on my damn nerves. I want to smack that fucking disgusting grin off his face. I guess he’s expecting to walk side-by-side with me into the club. But I just hurry by him and catch up with Cell and Sasha. We get in with no problem. I turn slightly around, and there’s Mr. Too Ugly, already breathing down the back of my neck. I move away.

The Jackpot is jam-packed. And of course, the deejay just so happens to be playing
It’s A Groove Thang
by Zhane. This was my jam back in the day. I start dancing and grooving, and then I feel this figure pushing up behind me, grinding against me. I turn around, and I see Mr. Too Ugly again. I quickly stop dancing and walk away; he done fucked up my flow now. He follows me and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No!” I shout. I continue to try my best to get the fuck away from him. I can’t be seen with him up in here; there are too many cuties around. He tries to follow me, but I evade him by sneaking into the women’s bathroom. I’m getting frustrated. I can’t get my party on with this ugly muthafucka following me around all night. And shit, no matter how nasty and rude I am to him, he still doesn’t get the picture. Maybe he really is slow or retarded.

I lay low in the bathroom for about five minutes before heading back out to the party. I’m just not feeling it anymore. I know that once that
ugly muthafucka sees me, he’s going to start hounding me again. And if he does, I’ve decided that I’m gonna curse him out so dirty and nasty and embarrass him in front of everyone in the club. I bet he’ll finally get the hint then. He doesn’t know who he’s fucking with…but the club is so crowded I might not run into him again.

I go to the bar and order myself a drink. Maybe I should’ve let him buy me one; at least he would have been good for something. But it wouldn’t have been worth it; he would have probably thought that I was starting to like him.

The deejay is definitely doing his thing—one nice jam after another. Right now he’s playing
Cream
by Wu Tang Clan. Them my niggahs right there. The cutest and illest one—to me—is my niggah, Method Man.

I feel somebody’s hand grab my arm from behind. I think it’s Mr. Too Ugly, so I turn around and prepare to smack him, but I see a light-skinned cutie with baby brown eyes and braids instead.

“How you doing, love?” he asks.

“Fine.” He’s more flamboyant than rough, but he’s still cute. We make our way to the dance floor, where he pulls me in front of him and starts grinding up on me. I can feel his dick getting hard in his slacks. It’s poking me repeatedly in the butt, and it’s starting to get annoying. I continue to dance with him, but when he squats down and tries to feel my crotch through my skirt, I proceed to put him in check. I grab his nuts tightly and make a fist, squeezing the living shit out of them.

“Niggah, don’t you ever disrespect my wonderful body like that ever again! You don’t fucking know me to be trying to feel me up. I should rip your fucking balls off right now!”

A few people are laughing and pointing, and others just watch.
Homeboy’s eyes start to tear up as I continue to squeeze his nuts. I finally let them go and he falls to his knees, clutching his hands between his legs. Every male in the club gets the message: I’m nothing to play with.

I return to the bar and order a Long Island Ice Tea. A few men gape at me as I sip my drink. I know they want to approach me, but after that little incident on the dance floor, they’re probably feeling hesitant. It’s cool. I’m not in the mood for any more negative male attention anyway; after dealing with Mr. Too Ugly and Mr. Touchy Feely, my need for male company has disappeared.

I continue to drink and chill at the bar. I see Sasha with Cell on the dance floor. She’s feeling all over him. There’s no shame in her game. The bartender’s smiling at me as he serves me my fourth free drink. Still, I’m not interested; he’s too beefy for me. I like a brotha who’s slim and cut up with a nice, long dick, smooth skin, good hair and a nice butt. He also has to have a good job—or at least some kind of income and a little integrity to go with it. The man has got to respect himself, and he definitely has to respect me. He must know that I’m not a sex toy, somewhere to stick his dick. If a good man treats me with respect and dignity, then I’ll treat him like he’s my world. I’ll do anything in my power to satisfy him and take care of him, as long as he is willing to do the same for me. My pussy would always be open and willing to receive him.

I look at the time. It’s a quarter to eleven and I’m getting restless and bored, even though I’m still receiving free drinks. The club is getting overcrowded, and the cuties are becoming less interesting to me. I don’t want to be touched or approached by anyone. I’m feeling a little tipsy, and I’m not in the mood for stupidity. The deejay throws on
Doo Doo Brown
by Luke, a former 2 Live Crew member, and the whole club goes crazy.
Everyone starts rubbing and grinding on each other. There’s sweating and bumping, and girls are hiking up their skirts. I can’t front; every time I hear this jam, I want to get my grind on and feel up on a niggah, too—especially a really cute one.

Some niggah abruptly grabs me by the arm, indicating for me to follow him into the crowd. I tell him no; you just don’t be pulling on me like I’m some fuckin’ rope. I give him a nasty glare. He gets the hint. Now I’m feeling another niggah close up behind me, pushing his pelvis into me. Damn, his dick is already hard. I turn around. It’s Mr. Too Ugly!
Oh, my god! No, he didn’t
. I’m so angry that I shove his ugly ass, pushing him into another girl, who falls into some guy. Mr. Too Ugly looks embarrassed, but I really don’t give a fuck at all how he feels at this point. You just don’t be pushing your nasty self up against me like that. He’s brazen; I give him that.

Bitches start to stare. I stare back. I’ll scratch out every last one of these bitch’s eyes up in this club. I make my way back to the ladies bathroom. Sasha comes in behind me, pulling down her stink hoochie dress.

“What’s the matter, Shana?” she asks me, like she doesn’t already know.

“Nothing!” I tell her while fixing my hair. I have no words for her for the rest of the night.

Other bitches start coming into the bathroom, whispering amongst each other and staring hard at me. I know they’re saying dirty things. “If y’all bitches got anything nasty to say about me, come say it to my fucking face! I’ll bring it to any one of y’all fake bitches up in here!” I shout.

They all just look, but none of them has the courage to say anything. I throw up my middle finger and go on with my business. Sasha
scowls at me and gives me attitude. She walks out to go back and tend to her dilly ass man. If she wants to act up, she can get it, too.

After checking myself in the mirror, I leave the bathroom. My temper and attitude is on high volume. I look hard at every niggah and bitch who pass my way. It’s definitely time for me to leave, but Cell is my only ride. And I’m not trying to hitchhike with some perverted, no-pussy- gettin’ niggah, who thinks just because I’m riding in his car he has the right to put his hands all over me.

I approach Sasha at around two a.m. She’s dancing and hugging up on Cell, and I pull her to the side, away from him. “I’m ready to go,” I tell her.