THE GHETTO HOOCHIE (Life & Times Of Princess Webster)

👸🏾 Five: Boxers

Eli, her hips moving to the playing salsa, told the bartender, with a voice of butter, “I’ll just have bottled water. With no ice.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“No problem, sexy,” he told her, trying not to admire her amazing curves. Yet he had to look anyway. It was in his nature.

Resoundingly, I felt their chemistry. She rubbed his hand like a spoiled child. “And pour it in one of those red cups. Thanks Papi.”

“No problem, pretty lady.”

“And he’s a flirt…”

“I can be more if you want me to.”

I was laughing at those two.

🔆💋🔆💋🔆

I felt good; sipping the drink opened me up. This was just what I needed. All that salsa music died away and the DJs were playing my cut.

I didn’t know who sung this jam, but I loved the beat.

Take it to the floor. Now drop, drop, drop bring it back now. Yes, I was feeling this dance song. It was straight ‘hood!

It was when I bent over to touch my toes and shake, shake it, that a man got behind me, holding my ass, and smacking it.

Whack. I loved it. I turned to face him. He had huge diamond earrings. His face was so angelic.

And his hazel eyes stopped my heart. I ran my hands over his bare arms. I was being hypnotized by his presence.

Never have I met a man who initially made me feel this way. He was dressed in Phat Farm gear.

A hat angled on his head. Well- trimmed, smelled nice.

“And your name, Ma?” he asked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

I studied him. “You’re not from here, are you?” I asked him, noticing he was drunk and high.

He could barely look at me.

🔆💋🔆💋

Eli sipped her water, making her way out of Ed’s bathroom. She made sure she cleaned up behind herself. The house was packed with people,
dancing and having a good time.

Four brothahs utilized the dining table for their noisy, cussing game of dominoes. They would slam the game pieces to the point where the table shook.

She gyrated past the low-table, the dining room, and out the back door. She stopped and asked the bartender, “What is your name?”

He wanted to lie. But he decided against it.

“Dan.”

Desperately sticking out her breasts, she went in for the kill. “You’re cute. Can I get your number?”

Taking a sharpie marker from his pants, he gently pulled out her plump tit and scribbled his number just above the nipple...

He then kissed it, sending electricity through her body. She stared at him.

“That’s an erasable marker, so the more you sweat, the faster my number disappears.”

She licked her rosy lips. “Really?”

He looked deep into her angelic eyes.
“Really. So I think you shouldn’t dance that hard. By the time the song goes off, my number will vanish into this air.”

Leaning over and giving him some tongue, she had an idea. “How about writing it on my pussy and eating it off.”

There was activity in his boxers. “I leave at about 3 a.m.”

“I’ll call you,” she said breathlessly.

He was stuttering. “I’ll come find you.”

“I should feel so special, ‘ey Papa?”
“…Whatever makes you happy, sexy lady. And your name is?”

“Oh, I’m Eli. Cuban, baby!”

“I’m looking forward to kicking it with you."

He looked past her and noticed the short man he served the Hennessy and Coke to staring at her with the most evil eyes.

He shuddered.

Not liking the feeling in his gut...