why u wanna go and do that? pt. 1(conclusion tomorrow)

[i finally got around to finishing this story so i've gotta repost the beginning so you can understand the end...]

i couldn't believe it.

this mothafucka was lying to me all up in my grill, just like a scene out of one of those hood flicks where the brotha is standing there telling his girl "it ain't what it looks like" while his dick is standing at attention and glistening in the wind and some chick behind him is frantically pulling up her cum stained g-string panties with that 'this heffa look like she gonna beat the shit outta me' look on her face. it was positively surreal.

"i'm telling you, you dreamt that," he continued, his face straighter than baby girl's bang after a hit with the hot comb. meanwhile, my own expression was a nappy do of tightly coiled features, from the angrily braided brow right down to the cynically doubled-twisted lips sticking out from 'tween twin cheeks puffed with indignation. he was standing there in his boxers, his arms crossing his broad chest, the chest i had just a few hours earlier kissed over every inch with my lips. he looked damn sexy...and guilty as fuck.

"for real dude...i don't EVER dream about shit like that..." i replied, incredulous that he was continuing with this farce. if i had known the brotha was willing to boldface lie like this i wouldn't have fucked him in the first place. wait, i'm lying. i would have fucked him, but i wouldn't have stuck around long enough for him to have an opportunity to boldface lie to me.

it was three in the morning, way too late/early for us to even be having that discussion. certainly it should have been too early for him to straight up lie like that. i mean, the most effective lying takes place between the hours of of 7:30 a.m. and 1 a.m. when people fabricate plausible excuses for not going to work or come up with that effective bullshit line to make the booty call go down without incident. instead he was in that black hole of time when negros say ridiculous shit like "we don't need no condom" or "that's just my momma calling me". you know, when lies that have little chance of convincing a person with half a brain are uttered nonetheless.

i sighed deeply and waited for him to answer me, my mind drifting back to when i'd first met him a month before...
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it was a friday night in july. a warm breeze made its way across my body like a lover's tongue, licking my skin and plastering my clothes to my body. candice and i had been to a club damn near every weekend since june, but we had yet to visit this spot. i stared at the building, noting the disheveled bricks making up the old building we were walking towards. it didn't look like much, but i was excited cuz i'd heard it was the most popular friday night spot in atlanta for us black folk. i could already hear the music from the live band kissing the air around us as we stepped in line and waited for entrance.

"what's the name of this place again?" i'd asked candice.

"'rollers'," she'd responded casually, as she glanced around her at the other people headed in the same direction.

pulling out my i.d., i looked up and into the face of one of the security guys at the door. i stopped mid-motion, caught up in the brown depths of his eyes. well looky here...

i placed my stare at his feet and climbed the mountain of his form with my eyes, finding a foothold on his thick thighs before leaping over the bulge between his legs, landing at the flat terrain of his stomach. i walked the rest of the way up, stopping to appreciate the scenery his broad shoulders provided before crawling up a thick neck. i took a leasurely stroll through the field of his soft lips, admiring the curve of his nose before finally ending at the oasis of his eyes.

now i could have said some really corny shit like "make sure you frisk me real thorough-like" but then i'd have had to supply the cheesy porn music. i can almost hear it...the gutter-grown guitar puffing out smoky notes to hover like rings in the air while the sleazy saxaphone skeets sound onto my eardrums. *shudders*

but i digre...uh, sorry chele...i mean, i've been led astray from the initial topic of discussion.

anywho, so dude was fine and gainfully employed, ergo he had potential. i handed him my i.d., my eyes still climbing his rugged terrain with a slow thoroughness. he frowned as he stared at it.

"just call me nikki," i replied before he could open his mouth and mangle my name. looking up, he smiled at the purposeful purr of my voice. his wireframe glasses sat on his cheeks, an attractive addition to an already damn near flawless facade.

"i'm 'fingaz'" * name has been changed to protect the guilty.

i leaned over slightly and sniffed him covertly. lavender and clove with a hint of cedar...cool...no baby powder, which means he doesn't have his balls coated in that shit.

"no baby powder," i murmured as i inhaled deeply.

"what?" he asked confused.

"uh, nothing," i said quickly, my face a mask of innocence.

candice, who had walked into the spot before me, stepped back through the doors and looked at me with that 'i can't take yo ass nowhere' look on her face.

"you ready?" she asked impatiently, her voice almost drowned out by the live music blasting through the opening. fingaz was definitely appealing but there were too many fine brothas up in the cut for me to be latching onto the first one at the door.

"yeah," i said as i turned to fingaz and held out my hand for my i.d.

"i'm gonna hold onto this," he said, his voice all dark and smoky like a jazz tavern with deliberately low lighting. it brought to mind miles davis sitting on a stool on a stage bathed in blue light, his lips seducing the notes to 'round about midnight' from the mouth of his trumpet while the burning butt of an unfiltered cigarette dangles precariously from the edges of a plastic ashtray placed next to his right knee. (sometimes my imagination gets too specific with shit...oh well). he tucked my i.d. in his shirt pocket and smiled devilishly. i lifted a brow at that.

"what for?"

"so you can't leave without talking to me."

a slow smile spread across my face as i took on the meaning of what he was saying and tucked it into my mind for comprehension.

"alright then..." i finally said nonchalant-like, although i'm sure my cheesy grin let him know what the deal was. so candice and i stepped into the pool hall and headed toward the stairs to get away from the crushing crowd. i tugged at the mini-skirt i was wearing, conscious of the open face of the steps which would give anyone standing beneath them a clear view to the granny panties i was wearing that night (hey, YOU might not mind the feeling of satin floss cutting into the crack between your sweaty buttcheeks but i ain't the one for that shit. i've got a big ass with a big crack. it was hot and the panties were cotton. 'nuff said.)

anyway, so candice and i are now upstairs chillin and checking out the brothas. meanwhile, my mind was on the cat holding my i.d. in his front pocket. i started cataloguing his features in my mind...about 6'2 give or take an inch, 220 to 230 lbs all in the right places, broad shoulders, nice tight ass, sculpted legs slightly bowed, full lips brushed with a mustache, high cheekbones, seductive brown eyes, a smoothly bald head, and skin dark and rich like a chocolate truffle. sheeyit!

"er, i'm going back outside," i said as i turned to candice. she smirked, a knowing look in her eyes, but said nothing. i sauntered down the stairs and through the front door, pulling out my cell phone as i did so. i used the patented 'call someone and play like you didn't really walk out there just to talk to that cat' move. i strut about ten yards away from fingaz (ever mindful of the fact his gaze was no doubt focused on my ass) and flipped my phone open, scanning the list to see who i could call.

the person i would usually call when using this particular maneuver was in the pool hall, so i had to go to tried and true number two - my brother. i quick dialed him as i turned and made a covert glance in fingaz's direction. he was staring at me. i dropped my gaze to the sidewalk and pressed the phone to my ear. of course swad would pick this night not to answer his damn phone. i hung up before it went to voicemail and started scrolling down the list of folk in my phone book. by this time fingaz had walked over and was standing next to me. i saw his dark shadow break up the concrete grey of the sidewalk and lifted my head to look at him. the devilish grin had returned.

"you know you came out here to talk to me so you can end that call now."

oh...it's like that?

i shook my head, rolling my eyes as i flipped my phone closed...