So…fucking…smooth.
“So, first let me say thank you for joining me.” He looked down at her, making her feel an inch tall. Paris stood 5’7, but could look considerably taller in a mean pair of heels. She also had curves, but she was small in weight. Despite her petite build, she wasn’t the type of woman many men wished to brawl with, and that made her proud. She packed a pistol and from her history, everyone should have known she wasn’t afraid to scrap, fight, claw a fucker’s face to bloody bits, or pull that damn trigger. She’d even had to brandish it a time or two, prepared for the consequences. Life was not easy, and self-defense was status quo. Oddly enough, she had been called ultra feminine, dare she say, alluring, but her ability to adjust and recreate herself with the changing times, proved to be her unsurpassed strength. As she stared into the man’s captivating eyes, she knew completely and truly, many things may have been issues for him, but height, bravado and a sense of self weren’t any of them.
“You’re welcome…” she finally muttered rather late in the game, attempting an amicable approach.
“I want to ask you what problems you have with me? Let’s start there if you don’t mind,” he stated diplomatically.
“Smoke, I don’t have a problem with you, or at least, I didn’t until you tried to intimidate me. Please don’t let my clothing fool you. I’m from the streets and if you take me there, we can get down ’nd dirty. I’m not one of your whores. That shit doesn’t work on me.” She stopped walking and turned towards him, wishing to make her points clear as day. “Word on the street is that you have some sort of magical touch as it pertains to choosing the right women to approach, to build your family, as you call it.
“You watch them, then make your move. It’s gotten to the point that you no longer have to introduce yourself. These women know who you are and are trying to get with you. Few are accepted. I respect that, Smoke, and you should have dug deep before you came at me like you were fourteen karat gold crazy. If you’d watched me for even three minutes, you would have known your approach was completely incorrect. Let me school you on some shit right quick.” She was going to take this bastard down. Game recognize game!
“Please do …” He looked her up and down, lust in his strange, exotic eyes.
“I’m the wrong one to try to play with. I’m twenty-nine years old. I’ll be thirty in two months.”
“Happy early birthday.”
“Thank you. I’ve been hoing since I was thirteen. I’ve had my own house running since I was twenty-two. You and I are two of the youngest in the game. We already don’t get the respect we deserve. Me, because I’m a woman and deemed too young to be a Madam and you, because you’re white… Of course, you aren’t the first white pimp any of us have ever seen. We just rarely see you motherfuckers, and the fact that you aren’t doing what these other guys are doing, but still in the game, is astounding!”
Smoke looked down at the ground and emitted a light laugh, nodding his head in agreement.
“Can I tell you something?” He looked back up at her, his eyes hooded more than usual, making her pussy clench up over and over, spasms galore, like a Venus fly trap left in a room full of buzzing mosquitoes.
“What?”
“You are one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen, and I mean that sincerely. Your eyes really captivate me. They’re your best feature. They’re large and slanted, like a pussycat…so sexy. Matter of fact,”—his face split into a crooked grin as his voice dropped impossibly lower—“that is what I will call you from now on. Pussycat…at least in my dreams.”
She twisted her lips and turned away. He’d delivered a bucketful of compliments like some slick vacuum salesperson, and she’d been suckered into letting him spill the sugary words all over her damn carpet and offer a
“So, first let me say thank you for joining me.” He looked down at her, making her feel an inch tall. Paris stood 5’7, but could look considerably taller in a mean pair of heels. She also had curves, but she was small in weight. Despite her petite build, she wasn’t the type of woman many men wished to brawl with, and that made her proud. She packed a pistol and from her history, everyone should have known she wasn’t afraid to scrap, fight, claw a fucker’s face to bloody bits, or pull that damn trigger. She’d even had to brandish it a time or two, prepared for the consequences. Life was not easy, and self-defense was status quo. Oddly enough, she had been called ultra feminine, dare she say, alluring, but her ability to adjust and recreate herself with the changing times, proved to be her unsurpassed strength. As she stared into the man’s captivating eyes, she knew completely and truly, many things may have been issues for him, but height, bravado and a sense of self weren’t any of them.
“You’re welcome…” she finally muttered rather late in the game, attempting an amicable approach.
“I want to ask you what problems you have with me? Let’s start there if you don’t mind,” he stated diplomatically.
“Smoke, I don’t have a problem with you, or at least, I didn’t until you tried to intimidate me. Please don’t let my clothing fool you. I’m from the streets and if you take me there, we can get down ’nd dirty. I’m not one of your whores. That shit doesn’t work on me.” She stopped walking and turned towards him, wishing to make her points clear as day. “Word on the street is that you have some sort of magical touch as it pertains to choosing the right women to approach, to build your family, as you call it.
“You watch them, then make your move. It’s gotten to the point that you no longer have to introduce yourself. These women know who you are and are trying to get with you. Few are accepted. I respect that, Smoke, and you should have dug deep before you came at me like you were fourteen karat gold crazy. If you’d watched me for even three minutes, you would have known your approach was completely incorrect. Let me school you on some shit right quick.” She was going to take this bastard down. Game recognize game!
“Please do …” He looked her up and down, lust in his strange, exotic eyes.
“I’m the wrong one to try to play with. I’m twenty-nine years old. I’ll be thirty in two months.”
“Happy early birthday.”
“Thank you. I’ve been hoing since I was thirteen. I’ve had my own house running since I was twenty-two. You and I are two of the youngest in the game. We already don’t get the respect we deserve. Me, because I’m a woman and deemed too young to be a Madam and you, because you’re white… Of course, you aren’t the first white pimp any of us have ever seen. We just rarely see you motherfuckers, and the fact that you aren’t doing what these other guys are doing, but still in the game, is astounding!”
Smoke looked down at the ground and emitted a light laugh, nodding his head in agreement.
“Can I tell you something?” He looked back up at her, his eyes hooded more than usual, making her pussy clench up over and over, spasms galore, like a Venus fly trap left in a room full of buzzing mosquitoes.
“What?”
“You are one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen, and I mean that sincerely. Your eyes really captivate me. They’re your best feature. They’re large and slanted, like a pussycat…so sexy. Matter of fact,”—his face split into a crooked grin as his voice dropped impossibly lower—“that is what I will call you from now on. Pussycat…at least in my dreams.”
She twisted her lips and turned away. He’d delivered a bucketful of compliments like some slick vacuum salesperson, and she’d been suckered into letting him spill the sugary words all over her damn carpet and offer a
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