Read Online Best Black Women's Erotica by Blanche Richardson - Free Book Online Page A

that it showed off two heaping mounds of wrinkled cleavage. Her big Texas-style hair climbed into the air like a small mountain made from hair spray and bobby pins.
    â€œI read fortunes. Your name start with a C?”
    â€œNo, an L. It’s Leah.”
    â€œWhat, honey? I can’t hear you with this country shit they’re playing.”
    â€œLeee-ah.”
    â€œMy name is Doris Ann. I’m a Capricorn and I’m fifty-four years old.” She wiggled her shoulders so that her breasts shook. “I look pretty good, huh?” She pointed at the jukebox with one of her long nails. “I’m gonna play something just for you. Gotta quarter?”

    I gave her a quarter and watched her saunter over to the jukebox. The Ojays came on a few seconds later and she shot her fist in the air. “That’s better, huh?”She lifted her glass and I clinked mine to hers. “Hey, are you a teacher? I’m picking up on you being a teacher.”
    I had to laugh. She was a lousy fortune-teller. “No, I’m a waitress. A waitress and a receptionist.”
    â€œGet outta here. I’m a waitress too. A waitress and a fortune-teller. I’ve been waitin’ tables since I was sixteen! Ain’t that somethin’? Forty years of bustin’ my ass and askin’ people what they want to eat. I make good money telling fortunes. I can’t ever tell what’s going to happen to me, though. Ain’t that somethin’?”
    I looked her over then. Saw myself forty years later. A black version of Doris Ann. Old. Lonely. Still waiting tables and trying to tell my own fortune.
    I downed my drink and asked for another.
    Doris Ann and I were swapping waitressing stories, trying to outdo each other with our all-time-worst experiences when she tapped my arm. “Look what we got here,” she said, nodding her head toward the entrance.
    A man stood in the doorway. While I couldn’t tell if he was Puerto Rican or what, his dark brown skin definitely gave off the fact that he had some African blood running through his veins. He was much older than me, not my taste at all, but I liked how his chest muscles stretched against his leather jacket. I liked the way he looked over his cigarette at everyone in the bar like they were beneath him. And I was all too happy to see some color in the place.
    Doris Ann started her fortune-telling routine as soon as he found a seat at the bar. “Hey, buddy, your name start with a M?”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    Doris Ann turned to me, her eyes big. “Hear that, Leah? Our new friend here has an accent. Where you from, huh?”
    â€œI’m from America.”

    â€œHow can you be from America if you have an accent? You from Mexico or somethin’?”
    The man and I rolled our eyes at the same time and I smiled. He was good-looking for an older man. Nice lips, even caramel-brown skin, and although his hair was buried under a layer of gel, it was thick and jet black. He had wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, but he had a build like a boxer’s and gave off the impression that he could kick some serious ass if he wanted to.
    After ordering his drink and lighting a cigarette, he asked if he could buy Doris Ann and me another round.
    â€œOoh, we’ve finally got us a gentleman in this dump,” Doris Ann said. “I always say foreigners are nicer.”
    After the bartender served our drinks, the man moved over two seats and introduced himself. “I’m George.”
    I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Leah.”
    Doris Ann lifted her shot of tequila. “I’m Doris Ann! Cheers, everybody!”
    I rested my elbow on the bar. I could feel a nice buzz coming on and didn’t really care if I was leaning in too close. “You don’t look like a George at all.”
    â€œThat’s because his name starts with an M,” Doris Ann said with a belch. “I can feel