Surprisingly, I didn’t pull back. I allowed him to lead the way. Erick Sermon’s “Music,” featuring Marvin Gaye, started playing. And we started dancing. I checked out dude’s two-step, peeped his swagger. There was a street edge to him; a rugged sexiness that was beginning to make me dizzy. A few times he flashed me a smile, moved into my space, brushed his body against mine, then pulled away; almost teasing me. And I allowed it. We both seemed to be quietly enjoying the other. He focused on me. I kept my eyes on him. And the few times I’d closed my eyes and gave into the music, I’d open them to see him gazing at me, smiling.
I hated to admit it, but I was starting to have a good time. We partied, hard. And by the time “Ante Up” by MOP finished playing, I was drenched. I politely leaned in and told him I’d had enough when the DJ slid on Ludacris’s “Area Codes.”
“So how ’bout you hit me wit’ ya area code?” he asked, following behind me as I walked toward the bar. By this time the dance floor was packed, and we had to maneuver our way over to the other side of the room.
I smiled, shaking my head. “It was only a dance.”
“Try four dances,” he stated, grinning.
“Okay, four. And I enjoyed them. But I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Oh, what…you got a man?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Oh, aiight. Then what’s the problem wit’ you hookin’ a nigga up wit’ them digits? You’se a real, sexy-ass dime I’d like to spend some time wit’.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I said, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, aiight, I got you, ma. I ain’t the type of cat to sweat no broad. So I’m out. You enjoy the rest of ya night, pretty baby.” And with that said, the nigga bounced on me. I stood there, thinking: Bitch, you dumb as hell. You shoulda took his number. I watched his fine ass get lost in the throes of bodies bouncing and swaying to the music before walking off toward the ladies room. On my way to take a damn piss, I must have gotten stopped at least six times by some dudes trying to get in my ear before I finally made it inside the bathroom.
When I finally made it over to Mona, she was still posted up at the same spot wit’ a bunch of niggas swarming around her, laughing and whatnot. She was clearly lit up and feeling good.
“Girl, where the hell you been?” she screamed over the noise. “My cousin was just here and I wanted to introduce you to him.”
“I was on the floor dancing,” I said, fanning myself to cool off.
“Yeah, I saw you out there dancin’ with some square-type nigga. I was over here laughin’ my ass off, but then it got packed out there and I lost my view of the sideshow.”
I flicked my hand at her. “Chile, please. That bottom-of-the-barrel nigga was getting on my last damn nerve.”
She laughed. “When you didn’t come back right away, I thought dude mighta kidnapped you or somethin’.”
“Oh, please. Not hardly. But I did end up getting held hostageon the dance floor by this fiiiine-ass nigga.”
“Oh, for real?” she asked, grabbing her drink from off the bar.
I watched her as she took a sip of her drink. I swallowed, realizing how dry my throat was. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“You already know, Thug Passion, baby.” I frowned as she glided her lips down onto the straw, taking a slow sip. I wasn’t really in the mood for Hennessy and Red Alize, but I gladly accepted the concoction when she handed it to me to taste until I was able to get the bartender’s attention to order my own drink. I took a long, deep sip. “Girl, slow down. That shit’ll get you right. Have you stumblin’ home.”
I laughed, standing in front of her, with my back toward the dance floor. “Yeah, you’re right, I better go easy. Let me flag down this waiter,” I told her, handing her glass back to her, “so I can get me a damn drink.”
“Girrrrrrl, all these niggas up in here, you don’t need to be buyin’ no
I hated to admit it, but I was starting to have a good time. We partied, hard. And by the time “Ante Up” by MOP finished playing, I was drenched. I politely leaned in and told him I’d had enough when the DJ slid on Ludacris’s “Area Codes.”
“So how ’bout you hit me wit’ ya area code?” he asked, following behind me as I walked toward the bar. By this time the dance floor was packed, and we had to maneuver our way over to the other side of the room.
I smiled, shaking my head. “It was only a dance.”
“Try four dances,” he stated, grinning.
“Okay, four. And I enjoyed them. But I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Oh, what…you got a man?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Oh, aiight. Then what’s the problem wit’ you hookin’ a nigga up wit’ them digits? You’se a real, sexy-ass dime I’d like to spend some time wit’.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I said, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, aiight, I got you, ma. I ain’t the type of cat to sweat no broad. So I’m out. You enjoy the rest of ya night, pretty baby.” And with that said, the nigga bounced on me. I stood there, thinking: Bitch, you dumb as hell. You shoulda took his number. I watched his fine ass get lost in the throes of bodies bouncing and swaying to the music before walking off toward the ladies room. On my way to take a damn piss, I must have gotten stopped at least six times by some dudes trying to get in my ear before I finally made it inside the bathroom.
When I finally made it over to Mona, she was still posted up at the same spot wit’ a bunch of niggas swarming around her, laughing and whatnot. She was clearly lit up and feeling good.
“Girl, where the hell you been?” she screamed over the noise. “My cousin was just here and I wanted to introduce you to him.”
“I was on the floor dancing,” I said, fanning myself to cool off.
“Yeah, I saw you out there dancin’ with some square-type nigga. I was over here laughin’ my ass off, but then it got packed out there and I lost my view of the sideshow.”
I flicked my hand at her. “Chile, please. That bottom-of-the-barrel nigga was getting on my last damn nerve.”
She laughed. “When you didn’t come back right away, I thought dude mighta kidnapped you or somethin’.”
“Oh, please. Not hardly. But I did end up getting held hostageon the dance floor by this fiiiine-ass nigga.”
“Oh, for real?” she asked, grabbing her drink from off the bar.
I watched her as she took a sip of her drink. I swallowed, realizing how dry my throat was. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“You already know, Thug Passion, baby.” I frowned as she glided her lips down onto the straw, taking a slow sip. I wasn’t really in the mood for Hennessy and Red Alize, but I gladly accepted the concoction when she handed it to me to taste until I was able to get the bartender’s attention to order my own drink. I took a long, deep sip. “Girl, slow down. That shit’ll get you right. Have you stumblin’ home.”
I laughed, standing in front of her, with my back toward the dance floor. “Yeah, you’re right, I better go easy. Let me flag down this waiter,” I told her, handing her glass back to her, “so I can get me a damn drink.”
“Girrrrrrl, all these niggas up in here, you don’t need to be buyin’ no
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