Lisa experiences a bunch of "firsts" as she shares "Dan Connor" with her best friend
I'm forever a fan of Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, and I mean, not just any Roscoe's, but the one off Gower Street near Hollywood Boulevard, since this one time in 1999.
I'd just finished my shift at the hospital I worked at the time, as I was a lead registered nurse pulling a 18 hour straight shift, since two of my girls decided to call in as they wanted to attend a Keith Sweat concert that night. I got off work at 6 a.m. the next morning somehow super hungry, and wasn't in the mood to cook. I had the taste for some fried chicken, collard greens and a waffle, so when my shift ended I drove from Anaheim to that particular location since I lived a few blocks away. I came in, and Tasha was finishing up her shift.
"My girl. You here on a Saturday morning? And with bags bigger than anything Louis Vuitton could create," Tasha said.
"Girl, I ain't in the mood, just feed me," I told her.
Tasha to this day is still one of longest tenured, true friends, to a point where we could say whatever to each other and be thick as thieves. We both been through a lot, and still rose to whatever occasion as our bond was unreal.
"I know you tired, girl. C'mere," she said as hugged me then took my order once i sat down, then headed to the kitchen.
I looked around and noticed there were no other patrons except for this beefy, behemoth of a white man, wearing glasses and reading a newspaper. Tasha would bring me a complimentary cup of coffee, then the man looked up.
"Excuse me. Hey, I think I'm finally ready to order now," he said, in a half sarcastic, joking manner.
"Yes sir, Mr. Connor, coming right up," she said.
She walked over and he tapped her bottom with the rolled up paper.
"What was that for," she asked, giggling, and with him grabbing at her waist.
"Crazy girl, don't you call me that. Lemme get a couple wings, a breast and a waffle," he said to her. "Take good care of me, and I'll take good care of you, too."
"Well, you're my favorite customer," she said to him as she wrote down the ticket. "That's too easy."
"And you're my favorite waitress," he answered back, looking at her as if she was on the menu, and pulling her closer to him.
He smacked her ass as she walked away and I was in shock, as I'd never known my girl to have what's called "Jungle Fever."
This man, who could've been in his mid to late 50s, was a handsome, strong, masculine man, the type that she, and me, were attracted to. She walked past me and I grabbed her arm.
"So we letting random, white men smack that butt huh," I said, doing the same.
"Let me drop this ticket and I'll explain," she told me, and she walked away to the kitchen.
Oddly, no one else would enter the restaurant for a while, as it was just me and him. This portly gentleman was now looking at me, his eyes small from his big, wholesome cheeky smile as he sized me up. All of a sudden he was looking quite fine, but I still posed questions of Tasha dealing with this man in my head: Other than the obvious, what did she see in him? Did he have big pockets? Did he eat pussy? Did he have the fattest cock to wreck her walls?
I needed to know the attraction since now he piqued my interest, especially since it been months since I had any dick.
"Girl, here you go. The cooks back there bored, so they hooked up your grits," she said as placed the platters on the table.