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This is our new Little Black Book site, hope you enjoy it!!
Here is an excerpt from one of the featured stories:
“We gone do something different this year. C’mon, get dressed,” my BFF Samantha barked at me.
“I just wanna stay home tonight,” I whined. “Dominic is gone call me later.”
“No. We are not doin’ this Ayla. Your man—excuse me—fiancé is out of town making that money to pay for your expensive ass wedding. His job doesn’t care that it’s Valentine’s Day. It is what it is. Let him work. You’re coming out with me. I got a real nice, laid back place we can hang-out at for a few hours.” She grabbed the remote from my hand and clicked off the T.V. “Get ready, girl. No excuses.”
“Can you guarantee you’ll have me home before two a.m.? I told him that I might go out with your crazy ass. But I can’t be comin’ home at four in the mornin’, girl. You know he’s gonna call.”
“What? Why? You think you missin’ out on somethin’ Y’all gonna fuck over the phone?” She chuckled, grabbing her leather jacket. “I have a little innocent fun planned for a few hours. It’s low key, nice crowd. You’ll like this place and I’ll have you back home at a decent hour and outta trouble. Okay?”
“Uh, decent for you is like six a.m.”
“More like seven.”
“”Okay! Don’t be such a baby!”
I rolled my eyes, heading for the bedroom door. “This better be worth it.”
The brisk Chicago night air hit my face vigorously as we scurried to the en-trance of the obscure looking brick building on the west side of town. Samantha had never mentioned TLC’s before, but the bouncer at the door seemed to know her—as somebody else.
“Sexy Monique! Always a pleasure to see you and ya’ girls.” He gawked at her D’s as they sat taught in her black satin corset.
“S’up, Charles. This is my friend, Tina. How is it in there tonight?” Charles took a quick look behind him. The ambient light scuttled around in the backdrop, barely making it to the club door.
“Good enough for you, baby girl. Enjoy yourselves.” He stepped to the side, allowing us entry. I looked at Sam in disbelief.
“Tina and Monique, huh?” I whispered. “What kind of place is this that you can’t even be yourself?”
“Shhh—relax, Tina. This is a place where you can be exactly who you wanna be…” Samantha’s eyes wondered away, becoming fixated on a shirtless white man, his dark brown hair and beautiful gray eyes walking towards us, tray of Martinis in hand. She took two and slapped the guy on his ass as he walked away from us, nev-er breaking his stride.
“Uh—okay,” I stuttered. “What did I miss? When did you officially become Miss Freak Nasty of Chicago?”
“You have to be invited here—it’s exclusive. You know how I am, girl. A few months ago, I came here with a friend of mine. He hosts parties occasionally.”
She could sense my apprehension as she handed me a glass.
“Relax. These Martinis are pretty strong and they don’t taste half-bad either.” She sipped hers slowly, waving to a couple cuddling in the lounge on our left.
“What is this music? Techno?” I downed the Martini in one long gulp.
“C’mon. I’ll show you around.”
We wandered through the dimly lit dance room, stopping briefly to watch drunken patrons grinding and groping each other to heavy beats and laser lighting.
The D.J. switched up the music, and “Bottoms Up” blared out of the speakers. I was pulled onto the dance floor by ‘Mr. Big Shot’, a tall, stout brown-skinned man, his shirt partly open, tie undone.
“C’mere sexy and dance with Big Papa,” he said, drink in hand.
Already a few drinks ahead of me, he wasted no time feeling me up, his hands redirected away from my ass and breasts every two seconds. We danced to a few reggae songs and his sweaty lips landed on my neck at least three times during Dawn Penn’s ‘You don’t love me (No No No)’. I tried to dance away from him, but he pulled me back, grinding his warm bulge directly into my hips, trying des-perately to stir my sleeping kitty.
Finally giving in, I danced with him to the bar, where he bought Sam and me our next three shots of Patron.
“I guess I could come back here Monique,” I said, feeling my buzz start to settle in.
“I told you—it’s cool.” She fanned herself with some bar napkins.
“Now for my little Hollywood V-Day surprise,” she said, standing up. We walked over to a corridor behind the bar, separated by a red velvet rope.
“Hollywood, huh?” I could see champagne flutes, smoking cigars and hear low constant chatter as I peered into another dimly lit lounge area.
“V.I.P. tonight, ladies?” A tall, sexy chocolate sista stood in front of the rope, blocking my view and holding a red tube of lipstick in her hand. She recog-nized Sam instantly.
“Monique, hey! We missed you last week! I heard that you would be by to-night, so we reserved you a spot downstairs, second room on right. Have you ladies been stamped?”
“No, not yet. I’m sure you can hook us up, Nina.”
“Absolutely. Where do you want it?” she asked me, applying the cherry red lip-stick flawlessly to her full lips, puckering them. I presented the back of my hand to her.
She glanced at Sam, giggling. Nina grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her and planted a kiss on my right shoulder. As she released me, I looked down at my stamp, admiring the perfect shape of her lips. Cute.
Sam had already chosen her spot, rolling her head back and waiting. I watched as Nina place her red signature on Sam’s neck. Her sensuous mouth lingered there, her tongue playing on Sam briefly before re-leasing her.
I grabbed Sam for balance, my body unsteady from the alcohol, and closely in-spected her stamp. “On the front of your neck, freak?”
“Well, how would you see it if she kissed me on the lips?”