Dont Panic (On Hold)

une

Three words was all it took and she blew it. She had one job, and that was to keep her mouth shut. He told her two words, wanna guess what it was?

          His smoke exhaled itself out his nostrils and he grew hard watching his entertainment. Her body was flawless and he loved it. None of those random acne shit, or stretch marks. Even though he didn't mind it on a woman, he loved it when women like her were flawless. Real hair, everything natural. The definition of a beautiful black woman to him was everything real nothing fake. Flicking some 20's he watched her move back onto him. His hand gripped her waist and she threw everything back onto him as he smirked of approval. He wanted her, and all he had to do was pass over some fair cash for her.

"Ill be right back." He whispered into her ear as she blushed and began back to her pole routine. He shuffled through the other men and some women in the club, just to find Amaury. Two buff men moved from in front of the door, already knowing who was entering and he stepped into his office. A spanish woman, who looked alarm quickly got dressed as he basically began to kick her out of the middle of a blow job. Amaury turned around to fix himself as Chris watched the spanish woman flaunt herself out the office. He chuckled and took a seat in front of Amaury's desk. Looking at his platinum gold Movado for the time. He didn't have much time, so he wanted to make this talk quick as possible.

"Your here? Interrupting my bitch and my blow job, what you need now Chris?" Amaury asked sitting into his spiral chair and kicking his legs up onto the desk. Smoking his pipe he waited for him to respond.

"Fou?" Chris replied. He spoke a few languages, he had to in order to keep up with foreign bitches. He didn't want them in his house cooking and speaking their language if he didn't understand what they were saying.

"Trying that french shit on me huh? Im not mad if thats what your trying to say." Amaury spoke back. He had lacked in his french translation, but automatically knew fou meant mad.

"Oui." Chris smirked widely. Being a smart ass is something he loved.

"That meant yes? Correct." Amaury replied.

Chris nodded then got down to business. "Look I want one of them dancers you got out there." He said nonchalantly. He figured if he showed less interest Amaury would say yes because he always wanted more business than Chris and his strip club.

"Describe her?" He decided tugging on his goatee.

"Thick, not too thick. Honey eyes, nice figure, straight and lengthy bronze hair. Oh and that tattoo on her shoulder, it says aimer." He had remembered.

"The bitch with love on her shoulder as some ink print? A tattoo is what you eh call it?" He shrugged.

"That one. What you say? I say couple grand."

"No, 10 grand. She brings in all my money."

"Im not paying you 10 grand for her?" He chuckled. She wasn't worth that damn much. "5 grand and thats it." Chris spat growing irritated. He didn't like to shuffle around money like it was nothing. He looked down at his watch once more.

"You've always been a scum bag boy. You aint doing nothing with this females but fucking them and selling them off afterwards. She's a keeper, Id know." He chuckled. Was he trying to imply he had fucked her? A 35 year old man fucking young woman disgusted Chris.

"Look 5 grand? Its in the Ferrari right now." He gestured throwing his pointer finger behind him.

Amaury smirked and then flicked him off. He picked up his bluetooth and placed it in his ear. "Bring me Celeste." He grumbled staring at Chris as he got onto his phone texting who ever had just captured his attention. Probably one of his side bitches. Celeste walked into the office and sat down in the chair next to Chris's they glanced at each other as she placed her hair up out of her face.