Thank you to my beautiful editor AccentsNTatoos, without her this would be impossible to read. This is just a prologue, so I appreciate your feedback and opinions. <3 Ink My China
Shira did not see herself as overly sexy, enticingly beautiful or even cute. She didn't have low self esteem though, quite the opposite really. She was told on more than one occasion how much of a self absorbed bitch she was. Shira just liked to call herself real.
She didn't take any shit from anyone, not even herself. So that's why when she looked in the mirror she never tried to make herself out to be something she wasn't. She didn't give herself little pep talks about loving herself or telling herself she was a queen, like other women seemed to have the need to do.
Shira loved herself, and she knew she was a queen, so she felt no need in doubting herself because of someone else. If someone called her sexy, beautiful or even cute, she called them a liar. She was merely simple; queens could be simple, and she loved herself just as she was.
Of course it wasn't always like that. Shira used to be like any other girl. Unsure about herself, constantly trying to improve her natural features. But as Shira grew up she realized no matter what she would always have this face, this body, this voice, this skin, no matter what. So she had a new motto, which was; work with what you've got.
That seems all fine and well, maybe even inspiring, but the process to come to this conclusion made Shira a bit rough around the edges. She was defensive, and loud and selfish. She had no problem with speaking her mind and letting herself be known. Not a damn problem at all, and maybe that was a flaw. Maybe that made her a bitch, but Shira didn't care. She was the first to call herself a bitch, a bad bitch.
When Shira looked in the mirror she merely saw a woman, just like any other woman. Short but not dainty, curvy but not fat. It was hard to label her. Not to say she didn't have any sexy features. She had beautifully even mocha brown skin, her ass was as round as they came and caught many an eye as she walked down the streets. Her face was a nice oval shape, sporting a delicate little nose and full pouty lips. She had nice size breasts; a full C cup. The curves of her hips were more than once called dangerous.
Her body also had parts she used to despise. For instance, her thick thighs, her size nine feet, and her forehead, better known as a five head, a Tyra Banks style five head, but she didn't care about such simple things anymore, because now she was a bitch, a bad bitch.
When Shira woke up in the morning she avoided mirrors right away. She knew what she looked like and saw no need in staring at herself so early in the morning, especially with her bed head and rank breath. She grabbed her toothbrush and took care of that right away, then she ran her hands through her curly tangles and turned on the water in her shower.
She had no need to strip because she slept completely nude every night. She ran her hands under the hot flow and grinned with approval. If there was one thing she loved it was a hot shower.
As she went about her morning routine she finally came to the point when she would have to look in the mirror, to detangle the wet mess she called hair and make sure her clothes weren't all jacked. Shira knew she wasn't afraid of mirrors or anything silly like that. She didn't fear looking at her face, she just hated combing that damn hair and she knew that once she saw it in the mirror it would be time to take on the task.
Over the years she thought about relaxing it, cutting it or just shaving the whole damn thing off. But in reality she loved her hair, the wet, curly mess that it was. She rubbed her foggy mirror in her small bathroom and studied her hair, deciding what would be best for the day. Really she didn't feel like combing through the long tresses so a ponytail is what she settled on, albeit a very messy ponytail, but a ponytail nonetheless.
Her outfit, however was on point, as usual; a simple black and grey checkered wool-crepe dress and black leather pumps, with a peaked leather belt cinched at her waist giving her curvy shape some form, and emphasizing her already round ass . Paired with her messy, curly hair she thought she looked downright sexy as only a bad bitch could be. She decided to go sans stockings, even though it was more than a little cool outside, she wanted to flaunt her thick thighs. An even coat of Mac red lipstick and she was out the door ready to start her day.
~~~~~~~~~~
Kakutama Akihiro, or Hiro as he was known by his American friends, hated black women. This hate was not a childhood hate, it did not stem from a racist, bigot family. He was always taught to love everyone no matter their skin color and the whole spiel that young children are usually taught. It wasn't that he hated black people as a whole, just their women but not all of their women, just the majority.
It wasn't that he had a bone to pick with their skin color it was their attitudes. He hated their neck rolling, foot stomping, finger snapping, attitudes. They were loud and obnoxious and brought drama wherever they went. He knew, from experience.
He had dated them before. It wasn't hard for Hiro to get women of all colors, while he wasn't extremely tall at only five feet, eleven inches, his tightly muscle roped body and jet black hair that went to the nape of his neck and fell into his eyes in an endearing manner, caused him to catch plenty of female attention.
One look of his dark, slanted, brooding eyes and their panties were down. It helped that he had his exotic Japanese features that plenty of American women appreciated. A strong straight nose, full lips, and the serious brusqueness a lot of Japanese men seemed to possess.
Women loved him. His experiences with black women though were usually always limited to sex. He had black male friends and they all seemed to complain about baby mama drama with their women. One of his friend's ex wives even had the audacity to come down to his office screaming and yelling about child support.
Yeah, he didn't like black women and Ms. Shira Rose Nolan was the worst of the worst. She always had something to say about everything and everyone. Thirty minute office meetings often went hours because Shira had a bone to pick with somebody and she could never let it go.
She didn't mind getting loud while rolling her neck, stomping her foot and snapping her finger to get her point across. However, she excelled at her job while getting promotion after promotion which garnered praise from coworkers for her no holds barred attitude.
He hated her. Not that Hiro himself wasn't good at his job; he was Senior Director of marketing at one of the top mobile technology companies in America. So he never thought he would have to run into Shira again after that first fateful time in a Starbucks.
****
Usually his assistant went and got him his coffee at the nearby Starbucks, but the little shit decided to be sick that day. It wasn't that Hiro was an unfair employer it's just that this had been the third time this month that his assistant was feeling ill. He was ready to let the man go.
As Hiro got his black coffee, his regular, he saw her. It was hard not to notice her when she came in a room. Even without her saying anything it was something about her that made her seem loud even in charge, a real bitch. Hiro had sneered with distaste, typical black girl just one in a suit.
He, reluctantly, had to admit that she was wearing that suit, she had a thick ass encased in a slim black skirt, and her breasts looked enticing pressed against her white button up top. Her mass of curly hair was pinned up and showing off her pretty face. But he could already tell she had attitude, and yeah she was sexy but she knew it and she wore that look all over her face.
Hiro tore his eyes from the black girl's bouncing ass as she stomped across the Starbuck in her stilettos and shook his head, yeah typical black woman. He grabbed his coffee, passed across exact change, and ignoring the dopey love struck eyes of the teenager behind the counter began to leave the establishment.
