Booty Call *69 Read Online Free Page A

much.
    “Fuck this!” Sasha blurts out.
    “What’s wrong, girl?” I ask.
    “This fucking line, that what’s wrong.” She steps out of her place in line and heads for the front entrance. “I’ll be right back.”
    About ten minutes later, Sasha makes her way back to us. “C’mon, y’all, we’re getting in,” she says.
    We all look at each other, thinking, what is this bitch talking about? But we follow her to the front of the club anyway, causing many who are still standing in line to hate and begin to bitch and moan. I hope this bitch don’t embarrass us—we get to the entrance and get sent back to the end of the line—not tonight in front of all of these people . We get to the entrance and to my surprise, we’re easily escorted in by a 6’2”, dark and muscular man. We pay the ten-dollar admission and strut our way into the party. I look at Sasha in amazement. “What did you do? Who hooked you up?” I ask.
    “I gave the main bouncer my phone number and promised to suck his dick before I leave tonight,” she says smiling at me.
    “You serious?”
    “Hells yeah. We got in, didn’t we?” I have no other words for her. She’s definitely bugging the fuck out. I’d rather have waited on line for two
hours. But it’s all good. We step into the dimly lit club. The music, the crowd and the scenery is bumping. The deejay has everybody hyped. He plays that new jam by Ja Rule and Ashanti. I glance around the place, checking out the cuties. And I look around for a familiar face, but I don’t see one.
    “I’ll be back,” Latish says. She goes straight to the bar. It figures. She always has to get her drink on before she can get her party on.
    I’m standing alone, and this chubby niggah walks by and stares me down from head to toe. I hope he doesn’t come my way . The only thing he has going for him is the piece around his neck. It’s kind of fly, and I know it’s real—Cuban links with the phat diamond cross. His stomach sticks out too much, though. But he only checks me for a moment from the corner of his eye and walks away. Thank God.
    After about an hour, the place is packed tight like sardines. Drinks are being spilled on people bumping into one another, and a fight breaks out between two guys on account of this. A few punches are thrown and they’re both put out of the club.
    I’ve been dancing with this cutie for the past half hour. He gets love, with his hazel eyes and fade. He smells good, too. Too bad I can’t say the same thing for the majority of the niggahs up in here; muthafuckas don’t believe in cologne. But my newfound cutie is cool. He buys me two drinks at the bar and asks for my number afterward, but I don’t give it to him. I tell him I already have a man. He doesn’t take it to heart. He still chills with me for a while.
    Latish is now a little tipsy. She’s on her sixth drink, and she’s with some chocolate, fine-looking brotha by the bar. Sasha’s doing it up on the dance floor, grinding and hugging up on a few men. Naja chills with me at the bar.

    I need a little break; with each passing minute that goes by, a different guy grabs me, touches me or wants to dance or talk. I tell Naja that I’m going to the bathroom, and she comes along with me. I barely make it there when I feel someone grab at my arm. Now totally fed up, I angrily turn around, only to see Tyrone, Jakim’s best friend. He is a cutie.
    “What up, baby girl?” he says smiling and gently takes my hand.
    “Oh, what’s up, Tyrone? I ain’t know you was up in here,” I say to him. I can’t help but show my excitement. It’s all over my face.
    He’s chilling with three of his friends, all of ‘em looking thugged out, wearing hoodies, jewelry, Timberlands and attitudes. He continues smiling and gives me a hug. “Damn, you look good, Shana,” he says gazing at my outfit.
    “You’re not looking bad yourself,” I reply. He’s wearing a blue and gray Sean John sweatshirt, blue denim Rocawear