Page 17 of The Smoke Hour

“Yeah. Have a seat. You’re about to win them back, right?” I asked.

She continued to stare at her shoes, which were on one of the floating shelves on the wall beside us. The shelves held my model muscle cars, but I had removed my 1967 Mercury Cougar GT to set her shoes in its place. The car was now sitting on the bar behind us.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“You think you’re about to cheat me out of my shoes.”

I laughed as I walked to the bar. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve got some type of women’s shoe fetish, maybe you want them for your girlfriend, or maybe you like to dress in women’s shoes.”

I paused in preparing our drinks and mugged the shit out of her.

“Don’t test me, Fiya. I don’t fucking dress in drag. The nigga you see is the nigga you get. A’ight?”

“My bad.” Kaifiya apologized with a smirk and held her hands up.

“I don’t have a woman’s shoe fetish. I think y’all crazy as shit to wear them little tight-ass shoes with those tiny heels. Ain’t got no room for your toes, then y’all wanna complain your back and feet hurt. Why the fuck y’all do that shit anyway?”

“They’re beautiful. Makes us look good and makes our ass pop,” Kaifiya explained.

“Yeah, whatever,” I replied as I walked over to her. “As far as that shit about copping them shits for my woman, I can afford to buy my woman whatever shoes she wants, in as many colors as she wants, and as many pairs as she wants. I ain’t gotta steal shit.”

I had walked up behind her and left little space between us. If the back of her chair weren’t there, she would be resting against my dick.

“Good for you. I know that makes her feel good,” Kaifiya replied sarcastically.

“Yeah. It would if I had a woman,” I replied and set her drink down in front of her.

I walked around to the other side of the table and took my seat. We negotiated the rules of the game after I pulled out the box of dominoes.

She would only earn those shoes back if she won four out of the seven games we would play. If she lost, then she not only lost the shoes, but she also had to go out to dinner with me.

I prepared a cigar and offered her one. She accepted it and surprised the shit out of me when she proved that she knew how to smoke it.

“Yo, shorty. Why do I feel like you’re a hustler?” I asked.

She took a drag on her cigar and then pulled it from her lips. She blew out consecutive rings of smoke and stared at me through hooded, lowered eyes.

Kaifiya was a beautiful woman. Her café au lait colored skin glowed underneath the chandelier, and her long, ash blonde hair with caramel highlights curled down to the middle of her back. Kaifiya’s high cheekbones looked as if they were sculpted from the finest stone, and tilted, hickory-colored eyes beamed with delight from her oval-shaped face when she looked at me. Luscious, perfectly O-shaped lips drew up into a provocative smile as she stood.

“Running out?” I asked after I won the first hand.

“Why would I need to run?” she asked as her hips swayed seductively from side to side.

“I wasn’t sure why you were standing,” I replied and blew a puff of smoke her way.

“I’m never scared.”

“As was proven by the way you hijacked my stage and did your little performance stunt.

“Did you like it?” she asked as she removed her short-sleeved, butter-yellow blouse and danced her way to me.

She slid her blouse back and forth across my neck in a sexy manner. Her floral-scented perfume wreaked havoc on my senses, and I wanted to snatch her by the arm, toss her on the table, and fill her up to show her exactly what I liked.

I grabbed the shirt and her wrist at the same time. I placed my lips on the inside of her wrist and licked her there before I planted a kiss. I smirked when I heard the subtle moan fall from her lips.

“Can we please get back to the real game, sir, instead of the mind games you want to play?”

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