Man Swappers (20 page)

She leans in, props her forearms up on the table and clasps her hands together. “Girl, the third type is the nigga who knows how to do both. Whew, his ass is double trouble, okay. He’ll have you wanting to make a mold out of his dick just so you can carry it around in your purse to pull out and use at your discretion.”

I wave her on. “Girl, your ass is crazy.”

“Crazy hell,” she says, chuckling. She pauses, to sip her drink. “Girl, I’m telling you. This is the type of nigga you’ll wake up and find yourself either locked in a padded room over, or sitting up in a jail cell ’cause you done blacked out and sliced the nigga’s dick off. Then went out and stabbed up every bitch who you
thought
he might have been fucking. This is the nigga who’ll make ya ass nutty for sure. And he’s definitely the one you need to try to stay away from if you know ya ass is already unstable.”

Angel has me laughing hysterically. It’s a good thing I don’t have on any eyeliner. Otherwise I’d have black streaks running down my face from laughing so hard, looking like a damn clown. “Okay, so answer me this,” I say, pausing to collect myself while dabbing my eyes with a napkin. “What do you call a man who wants you to do all the work while he just lays there like he’s king of the jungle?” I ask the question already knowing the answer—well, my answer: He’s a selfish motherfucker! But I’m curious to hear her spin on it.

“Oh, you’re talking about Mister King Ding-a-Ling, the one who thinks his dick’s been wrapped in gold and his balls dipped in honey. Girl, that’s an easy one. That’s the kinda motherfucker who’ll have you running out searching for new dick real quick.”

“Okay,” I say, snapping my fingers. I hoist my glass up in the air. She does the same. “Poof, poof...gone.” We clink our glasses. “Lazy-dick motherfucker.”

She scrunches her face, shaking her head as if in thought. “Mmmph. A lazy-dick nigga is the worst kind, if you ask me. And
why does it
always
have to be them big-dicked motherfuckers wanting to lay back?” I tell her I don’t always think it’s hung niggas. She waves me on. “Girlfriend, you need to go back and rewind the tapes, okay. Trust me. Sit back and watch the show. Now I’m not saying all. But, it’s typically them niggas who have more dick than they know what to do with doing that dumb shit. You know like I do that the little dick motherfuckers don’t mind putting in extra work. Shit, they’re the ones who usually feel like they have something to prove to you so they’ll try to fuck and suck your pussy all night long in order to make up for what they lack in the dick department.”

The waitress comes over to us carrying a tray with two drinks on it. “These are from the gentleman at the bar,” she says, pointing toward the bar area. Angel and I look over in his direction. He nods at us, raising his drink. We do the same.

“He looks like he might be fine as hell,” Angel says to me. “But the light’s not bright enough over there to know for sure.”

I laugh. “Girl, enjoy the damn drink. Who cares what his ass looks like?”

She bucks her eyes. “Shit, I do. I might wanna get me some dick tonight.” I laugh at her ass.
Mmmm, he does look like he can get it
, I think, cutting my eyes in his direction on the sly. She jumps. “Oh, shit. They’re getting ready to start open mic.”

The emcee introduces the band, then opens the floor to those who wish to perform. I ask her what song she’s going to sing. She tells me she’s going to serve them Alicia Keys’ “Lesson Learned.” I smile, knowing she’s going to bring the crowd to their feet. I take a sip from drink, and wait for the show to begin.

The first performer does her rendition of Beyoncé’s “Halo.” And I must say she kills it. Right after her a tall, sexy, thuggish brown-skinned man with cornrows takes the floor and sings that old school joint “‘Cause I Love You” by Lenny Williams. Whew,
the way he holds those notes starts to make my pussy pulsate. I close my eyes and take in his voice, imagining him singing this in my ear, offering me up some thug passion. Then just when I think it can’t get any better and my pussy can’t get any hotter, the next performer is the same guy who sent over drinks to Angel and me. And he’s not only sexy, he’s
very
fuckable. He has an exotic look about him, like he might be mixed. He takes the mic and sings Eric Benet’s “Sometimes I Cry.” He sings it with such a beautiful passion that everything in me starts to melt. I close my eyes and sway, imagining him standing in front of me butt-naked, singing this as I am down on my knees sucking his dick. By the time he finishes the last note, I feel my pussy pulling in my thong. Every woman in here is waving their hands up in the air. Some are jumping up out of their chairs, cheering him on.

As the waitress brings me over another drink, Angel is taking the mic. The minute she belts out the first note, I spot Mr. Sometimes I Cry walking in my direction. I catch his eye as he approaches my table. I smile. Decide to not let him get away without saying something to him. “You can sing to me anytime. You really killed it.”

He smiles back at me. “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. I ’preciate that. I was on my way back to the bar and saw you sitting over here by yourself so I decided to come over and holla at you. You mind if I sit?”

Hell no, I don’t mind if your sexy-ass sits
, I say in my head. I extend him the chair. “Sure. I’d like that.” He glances over toward Angel, who is belting out one note after another.

“Yo, your girl can blow.”

I smile. “Yes, she can.”
Not that I’ve paid attention. But, I’d damn sure like to blow you.
Dirty thoughts of crawling under the table and caressing his cock with my lips and tongue start invading my mind. I press my legs together. “So what motivated you to sing that
particular song?” He looks away for a moment, then brings his attention back to me. Tells me he had lost someone special in his life and although it’s been two years since her death, it still hurts. And sometimes he cries over the loss.

For some reason I feel endeared to him. Without thinking, I reach over and place my hand over his. “I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened to her?” He tells me she was serving in the military. That she was killed over in Iraq. I can see the love and hurt in his eyes as he tells me this. “Oh, wow,” I say, feeling myself getting choked up. “So sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks,” he says, placing his other hand over mine. “I’m good, though.”

I get tingly all over. “Ohmygod, you have some soft hands for a man.”

He laughs. “I hear that a lot.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say coyly. “I bet you give great massages, too.”

He grins. “Yeah, I can do a lil’ sumthin’. So, is it aiiight if I buy you another drink?”

I glance over at Angel when I hear the thunderous applause. “How about I get this round, and you get the next?”

“Cool.” He flags over the waitress, motions for another round. “I’m Faruq, by the way.” I tell him mine. He nods his head, approvingly. “Nice name. I saw you when you and your girl walked in and was hoping I’d get a chance to holla at you.”

“Well, I’m glad the opportunity presented itself.” I lean forward in my seat. “So, Faruq...I like that, by the way. Are you Muslim?” He tells me his family is, but that he doesn’t follow its doctrine. That he’s originally from Egypt, but has lived in the States since he was ten; that his name means one who distinguishes truth from falsehood.

“Oh, wow, interesting. I’ve always wanted to visit Egypt. It
looks like it’s a beautiful place.” He tells me it is; suggests that I visit. That he thinks I’d love it there. “Maybe when I go, you’ll come along to be my tour guide.”

He smiles. “Oh, cool. I’d like that.” After a few stops along the way from patrons telling her how great she sounded, Angel finally makes it back over to the table as the waitress returns with our drinks. Since Faruq’s back is toward her, he doesn’t see her raising her brow at me and mouthing,
“Bitch.”

I smile. “Faruq, this is my girl, Angel. Angel, Faruq.” She comes around and faces him.

He stands up and extends his hand. “Nice meeting you.”

She takes him in, extending her hand. “Likewise,” she says, allowing her hand to linger in his a little longer than she should. He’s the first to let go. She takes a seat next to me, then pinches me under the table. I flinch.

“Oww.”

“You alright, boo?” she asks, feigning concern. I ignore her, taking a sip of my drink.

“Yo, you have a beautiful voice.”

She grins, tilting her head. “Oh, you heard me sing?” She cuts her eyes over at me. “’Cause I know this one here didn’t hear a word of it with you being such a beautiful distraction. But, thanks. You definitely have it going on yourself.”

His smile widens, revealing one dimple in his left cheek. I find myself even more turned on. He thanks her for the compliments.

I laugh. “You know me so well. But you do have a beautiful voice.”

She playfully rolls her eyes up in her head. “Whatever. Tell me anything. Annnnyway...Faraad, right?”

He laughs. “Nah, Faruq.”

“Oh, Farooook, okay. My bad. Soooo, let’s get down to the
nitty-gritty. Who you here with? Are you straight, gay, bi or one of them down-low niggas?”

He laughs at her bluntness. “I see you go in real hard.”

I shake my head, placing a hand over my face. “Ohmygod, I don’t believe you.”

She shrugs. “What? I’m only asking. Well, are you?”

He continues laughing. “Nah, it’s all good. Do you, ma. But to answer your questions, I’m here solo. That’s how I like to move. And I’m all hetero-man, baby. The only thing swinging low on me is my...” My mouth starts to water as he stops himself.
Oh noooooooooooooo, don’t stop now! Say it, damn it! Saaaay it! Let me hear how low ya dick swings.
“...Let me stop,” he continues, chuckling. “Tonight, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” she teases, twirling a lock of hair.
Oh, this messy hooker is really gonna try ’n make a move on him right in my damn face, knowing he was sitting here talking to me,
first. I decide to bow out gracefully, guzzling down the rest of my drink, then getting up from my seat. Okay, so I’m a little annoyed at her ass. I’ll get over it.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the ladies room.” He gets up and watches me walk off, then sits back down. As soon as I get into the bathroom, I pull out my phone and check my messages. I have two voice messages, and six text messages. I check my voice messages first, then respond to my text messages. My mother wants to know if I want to drive out to the outlets with her one day next week. Emerson calls. He wants to know if I can squeeze him in to do his taxes. I smile.
Yeah, right. Taxes, my ass
, I think, saving the message.
He wants some more pussy.
Five minutes later, I return to the table and Faruq is nowhere in sight. A part of me is disappointed. “Please don’t tell me you chased that fine-ass man away.” I am standing with my hands on my hips, squinting at her.

“Oh, relax,” she says, waving me on. “He went to the bathroom. I thought you fell in, you were gone so damn long.” Of course she’s being sarcastic. I let it go over my head, asking her if she was able to weave her web around Faruq. “Girl, I was trying. Trust me. But he flat out told me he was interested in
you
. The whole time you were gone, he kept drilling me about you.”

I’m surprised. Well, not really. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? But I’m shocked that he told her that. Angel doesn’t always do well with rejection. “Oh, and what did you have to say to him?” She tells me she told him she hoped he was enough man for me because I was a whole lot of woman. She gets up from her seat, gathering her bag. “Where are you off to?”

“Girl, I’m ready to blow this joint. It’s getting late, and I have to get up early in the morning.” I laugh. “What’s so funny?”

I shake my head, deciding to keep my comments to myself. But the truth of the matter is, since she couldn’t sink her claws into him, now she’s ready to go. If the shoe were on the other foot, she’d be trying to shut the place down. “Oh, nothing.”

“Are you coming?” she asks as Faruq returns to the table. He stands next to me. Tall and sturdy, towering over me. “Never mind. I already know the answer.” I laugh as we hug. I tell her to travel safe and to text me the minute she walks through the door so that I know she made it home. “Don’t worry. I will.” She looks up at Faruq, extending her hand and smiling. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” he says.

“Now let me see your driver’s license,” she snaps, eyeing him up and down. “In case you turn out to be a nut-case and try any slick shit on my girl, I need to know who I need to hunt down.” He laughs. She raises her brow with one hand on her hip, holding her other hand out. “I’m serious.” I shake my head, smiling. He pulls out his wallet and shows her his license. She makes a mental
note of his full name and address, then hands it back to him. “Now, y’all have a good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She tosses a wink my way, then flounces toward the door. Her ass bounces in her skirt with each step.

Faruq turns his attention back to me. “Your girl is a real piece of work.”

I smile. “That she is.”

“I hope you’re not leaving, too.” I tell him I had planned to but was willing to stay a little longer. “Cool, ’cause I’d like to get you know you better.”

And I’d like to fuck you
. I smile wider, staring him up and down.
Damn, he’s tall
. “Well, I’ll stay under two conditions.”

He seductively eyes me. “What’s that?”

“You buy me another drink. And you dump the gentleman act. I’m not interested in being treated like a lady tonight.”

“Oh, is that right?” he questions, sounding caught off-guard. “Well, tell me how you wanna be treated, baby. And you got it.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s sit, order drinks and I’ll tell you exactly how I want to be treated tonight.” He waits for me to sit, then he takes the seat next to me. I lean into him, whisper in his ear. “I’m into role-play. And tonight I want you to treat me like your pretty little slut. You think you can handle that, big daddy?”