The house party’s rocking. Special K is twisting words hard, beat driving, bodies dancing tight in every room. Booze is water flowing and Smokey Bob is pushing trade out back. Red Rita is paying off a debt in a dark corner, thinking nobody can see her bobbing head.
She comes right up close, high-toned, wearing white silk, pussy-perfect fine.
“Why you dressed like a nasty hard boy?”
“Bitches like you.”
Standing naked at the window, I watch the sunrise. Her hands reach around, cupping my breasts, lips at my ear.
“Still a bitch, girl?”
“Oh yeah, but my bitch now.”
