Smoke and Mirrors by Tiana Laveen Page A

demonstration.
    “You need to stop.”
    “What? You don’t think I’m serious?”
    “It doesn’t matter what I think. You run game for a living, and I am not inviting myself to participate in Chutes and Ladders with you so you can climb your way up and inside my domain. Roll your dice somewhere else. Now…” She began to walk again. “You said previously, you wanted our ladies to simply respect the boundaries. I have no issue with that.”
    “Good, then why all that bull before?” he asked, raising his brow.
    “Because you didn’t approach me right, like I said!” She stopped walking, almost stomped her foot in anger. “You came at me with some sly shit, acting like you were trying to score, get me under the excuse of trying to wine and dine me. You treated me like one of these bobble headed bitches versus your equal. If I were a man, you would have never handled it that way, Smoke, and you know it. I resent that.”
    “But I can’t treat you like a man, Paris. If you were a man, I wouldn’t have been daydreaming all morning and afternoon about fucking you…”
    They looked at each other for a long while, and the entire time, her pussy drew inward like a turtle in a shell as more contractions clamped between her damn legs, almost making her buck at the knees.
    “Look, Paris, how do you know I wasn’t attempting to do both ?” The smile disappeared from his face and his forehead slightly bunched. “Did you contemplate the fact that I may have been interested in you, as well as wishing to discuss business?”
    “I don’t shit where I eat.”
    “Of course you do…”
    She turned and looked at him for a long time. She wanted to ask him what the hell he meant by that, but instead, he took care of it for her after a brief pause, which included him staring down into her cleavage like some panting wolf in desperate need of prey.
    “You see, people like you and I are forced to shit where we eat. We have to make our ladies believe what we’re telling them and sometimes, we actually do give a shit about them. It isn’t love; if we did something foolish like that, we’d risk everything we worked for being turned to shit, and worse yet, being the ho, instead of the pimp. Now, what I do outside of my vocation is a whole ’nother matter.” He placed his hand across his heart. “When I asked to take you out, I meant it. For you, I’m prepared. I know more than you think I know. You make me wanna do some shit… some shit I’ve never done before.” He paused and slicked his tongue over his lower lip as his eyes glimmered like a damn reptile’s. His gaze darted back to her cleavage, nasty thoughts written all over his face.
    “Listen, Smoke, I don’t know what type of tricks you’re pulling, but if they aren’t the kind that drive by, call or book an appointment online, then I’m not interested in hearing about ’em.”
    I have to put a stop to this! Shut this shit down.
    “You’re so mean, baby,” He grinned, seemingly mocking her. “You need to jump on board and have the S.P.E, goddamn it.” His smirk returned, this time sending her nerves into a jumping tailspin. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
    “What’ the S.P.E., Smoke?” She was almost afraid to ask, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her.
    “The Smoke Patterson Experience, Madam.”
    She didn’t know whether to laugh or take a white glove and smack the pompous fucker in the face with all of her might.
    “You need to get the hell out of my face.” She huffed, looking past him and all around as if he were some vagrant asking for a dime or two.
    “You obviously don’t know who I am, Paris.” The man wouldn’t give it a rest. “Because if you did, you’d understand that I—”
    “People know your story, so please stop trying to bullshit me! You aren’t the only one doing big things around here.” She waved her hand in his face. “I have a college degree, did you know that?” She glared at him as she placed her