"Can't you two just, get along?"
"I'm gonna act like you didn't say that shit negro." Rashida gave my cheek a rough pinch getting a loud slap to her left buttock in response. My hand lingered groping big greedy handfuls of that halve big enough to be a separate big butt all by itself on a smaller woman.
"Hey, before we do that thing you want us to do; I wanna get in a few minutes of work." She half turned allowing me to play with the whole thing.
"I don't care as long as I get your girl; you can do whatever you want, but I'm gonna use you like a worm on a big fucking hook."
"You gonna go to jail."
"I ain't going to no fucking jail; that drinking straw built bitch got too much to lose and she laying up with your cousin right now."
"I don't care."
"But she does; you see her inflated fucking ego got old girl thinking she's the shit and that's why I'm gonna make her pop up for these motherfucking hands."
"You're gonna go to jail Rashida."
"Shut up or admit you're catching feelings dumbass; I'm starting to think you like crazy women fool."
"Fuck you."
"Later, now what're we doing?"
"Your social media bitch; come back into the kitchen and bring your iPhone please."
She dutifully followed me into the kitchen bringing a nice pair of matching canary yellow spike heels offset with lime green diamond shaped tips. It followed Rashida's penchant for the light and bright which offset her rich chocolate skin tone in perfect contrast.
She put them on becoming a half inch taller than me as I opened the freezer over the fridge removing a pint of ice cream. Rashida looked puzzled when I handed it to her leaving the door open as I took her phone opening up the camera.
"Oh, I get it daddy." She was quite intuitive with my creative process when it came to her online presentation.
I walked just out of the kitchen door as Rashida positioned herself behind the open upper fridge door obscuring her noggin. My model turned her back to me rewarding me with a view guaranteed to drive up her followers on social media. I got a few shots including a low camera angle closeup for the new scene I was formulating. This made her badonkadunk look positively gigantic actually casting a shadow over me.
"You really think I'd go to jail for giving her turkey neck a shake?"
"Is that even a question? I mean, you saw how fast she took off after beaning you in the chest with that fucking Slurpee."
I stood up as Rashida closed the door leaning against the countertop at an angle popping the lid on the pint of ice cream. I captured few dozen shots of her in action using a function on her phone as she retrieved a spoon from the dish rack.
Our symbiosis was perfect with both of us moving like we were of a single mindset as Rashida posed with the spoon stuck in the top of the pint holding it as if she had an endorsement. She stole a few bites as I got another staggering shot of her sixty plus inches of online fame pressed against the countertop in extreme closeup.
"Damn you are a superstar without even trying girl; look at this shot of your cake pressed up against that sink like it's trying to eat the fucking thing."
"You're inspired tonight, huh daddy?" Rashida approved of the zipper bursting shot.
"Enough to get in a quickie scene for my website; if you don't mind?"
"Well if you got my back legally speaking after I choke that lanky thot, we can do whatever you want." Rashida hooked a finger in her right bra cup letting a nipple come into view.
"Ain't no way I'd let you spend a night in fucking jail; fuck, I'll even call the bails bondsman before you start chunking on Takisha."
Rashida peeled both cups down letting me get a few shots for an impromptu photoset to be sold through one of her media outlets. She grabbed the waistline of my pants drawing me forward into a passionate kiss that was all too brief.
"You know, shit like this wouldn't happen if you didn't give every girl you meet the business; I mean, can't you dial it down a little. There should be levels to your fucking game because you're like, goddamn elite."
"Cut the bullshit."
"Nigga, I cum every time we hook up; I cum a lot cause you got that shit on lock, hands and the pene." Rashida took a spoonful of ice cream about to eat it but shoved the frigid treat into my mouth instead.
"Ah, you got me mixed up with my cousin." I joked as she ate a spoonful of pralines and cream smiling to herself looking at me with heavy lidded eyes and a half smirk.
"No, I think I've got you, just right daddy." Rashida cupped my package giving my balls an encouraging squeeze.
"Cut it out, you're making me wanna fuck; let's at least get some more content out of the way before we go there baby." Rashida chuckled handing me the pint of ice cream before using her thumbs to pull her brassiere up snapping the straps with a bit of flair.
"What's next?"
"A deep cut Rashida; remember the first time we hooked up?"
"We fucking in the bathroom again?"
"No stupid, I'm talking about that video I had you make with my phone on that selfie stick. Think you can do that shit again over there in the living room facing the kitchen, huh?"
"Of course."
"Well I don't see you doing it bitch-OW!! WHAT THE?!!" Rashida momentarily balled her fist up around my package making me double over. She deftly took the phone from my hand patting me on the cheek like the bully she used to be.
"Respect." She walked into the dining room reaching into a pile of junk mail and some plastic bags on the table producing a selfie stick. Rashida glanced back at me with a wink as she switched into the living room attaching her iPhone.
I watched my model muse get down at the edge of the living room entrance on all fours shoulders lower than her iconic derriere. Ms. Sikes knew she was a whole snack and then some as I shoved my hands in pockets smiling approvingly.
"You just want me to twerk?"
"And do that other thing you do so well." She looked confused for a moment caught up.
"What's that?"
"Talk shit." Rashida burst into hard laughter dipping her head tapping it on the carpet before regarding me again.
"ABOUT WHAT?!!"
"I don't know; talk shit to all the guys who watch your stuff, the brothers hawking you out in public, fuck Rashida, talk shit to everybody!! It's a promo, kind of like wrestling you goof!!"
Ms. Sikes assumed the position that made her internet famous crouching low with her chest riding the living room carpet, monster booty high above her shoulders.
The lively smile on her face even though I was looking spoke to our continued evolving relationship as mutual confidants, casual lovers, and business partners. Tonight I was going to blow up her social media and was planning a new shoot even as I watched her starting her routine.
Rashida looked like some lazing lioness with her arms folded under her chin while that monstrous thing wagged horizontally. It was a very slight movement that demonstrated the thickness of the buns, there ponderous nature with just enough rubbery jiggle to it when she wasn't trying. The wet clapping sound started to fill the area and adjacent dining room as she found something to talk about.
"Bitch what you want me to say, huh? You on one, you even know why? What do you want me to do, huh bitch? You know what I'm working with hoe; is that why you mad baby girl? Huh nigga?! Talk to me girlfriend? Let's have a motherfucking dialogue about why you're lacking! You wrong in the head bitch. What you want me to do about it when you're being performative darling? YOU'RE LACKING!! YOUR BOX IS TRASH!! ...and your man chose me hoe!! Yeah, you know a dog can't do nothing with a bone but bury it. Your nigga dining at the Y and you're crying bitch."
There was no doubt who Rashida was talking to and I wasn't going to say anything. Takisha would be triggered.
Rashida got into a proper doggy style position locking her arms popping and bucking like the seasoned professional she so obviously was. There was no music, so she was going off whatever was in her head while I'd already decided to use Snoop Dog's "Ain't No Fun" instrumental as background music for Thunda's heel promo.
Rashida was smiling all teeth encouraged by the look on my face as she reared up on her knees rolling her hips making her defined abdomen undulate like a well trained belly dancer. She drew her arms in tight to the sides rolling her shoulders bobbing her head making me laugh outloud. She raised a brow at my mirth.
"WHAT?!!"
"Nothing, what're you dancing to in your head Rashida?"
"Ain't No Fun by Snoop; what else would I be dancing to, huh fool?!!" The symbiosis was that real.
I laughed even harder as she continued her routine for another five minutes. There was no way I was telling her about our coincidence. Rashida was one hell of an exotic dancer, even with no club experience. In that moment my muse triggered my partially dormant creative streak.
"Wanna take this shit further?"
"Sure daddy!" Rashida was game as I offered a hand pulling her to her feet.
I left her there invading my cousin's room for an item from his distant past.
In Jaquan's high school days, a bunch of fake friends convinced my dim bulb relative that he could be a rapper. Actually they were trying to capitalize off his natural connection with the beautiful ladies on campus. Of course this didn't work out when my auntie was involved verbally crushing that imprinted aspiration with an epic black mamma dress down when asked to finance a demo.
The only remnant of that dream was a wireless microphone.
"What're you gonna do with that microphone." Rashida was puzzled.
"Nothing bitch; you're gonna do it."
"Huh?!"
She watched me connect the mic to Jaquan's premium sound system arms folded until I clicked it on testing things out getting some loud audible feedback before adjusting the feed. Rashida facepalmed when I started connecting her iPhone to a stand so that my hands would be free. I needed to have a full range of motion to pull off the stunt.
