Chapter Three #2
"Yes you do!" I mocked her voice. "I'm so used to your bullshit, that I look forward to it. You leave me for dick every time," I stated, switching my voice back to normal.
"He seems like such a nice guy though and he'll be at the release party,” she mentioned as if that would change anything.
I scoffed, and waved my hand in midair at her antics. "Nya how many times have I heard that before? Then I get a phone call from you to vent about how he had fucked up. Where'd you meet this nigga at anyway?"
Her eyes turned into slits before she said, "I don't like how you just clocked my tea."
"Well, somebody has to."
"He did some work on my Jeep. The guy who installed my new touch screen."
I shook my head. Nya is very free-spirited, which is a good thing, but I'm afraid that one day she'll get caught up and the odds won't work out in her favor.
She plays it so dirty, and she's so bold with it.
I mean yeah, I'm all for milking a nigga out of some money, but Nya has a whole system that works for her and it's like a second job.
From the sounds of it, she meets some decent men, but I don't think there's a nigga out there who can tame and get her to be a one-man woman.
I done seen her fuck another nigga in another nigga's face before, and his pussy ass ain't do shit about it.
She never called them her boyfriend, we gave them nicknames, just in case she was on the phone with me and they were mentioned, like mechanic, or iPhone, or Xfinity.
It'd fit better in a sentence to keep her from getting caught up verbally and their job matched their description, so it was a win-win.
Nonetheless, she was ditching me for a nigga she wouldn't take serious no way.
"I don't even want to know the rest," I said.
"When you get dick I won't put it past you to ditch me for it," she stated.
Standing up from the island, I gathered our plates and glasses, then placed them in the sink so I could wash them when I come home later.
"Whatever bitch. Birds of a feather, don't flock together. That's breaking girl code. That's why I know better to drive my own car. Hoe you'll never leave me stranded."
"You know what, the way you talk about niggas, I won't be surprised if it's a dick down there, the way you talk about niggas like you don't need 'em."
"I'm not in a rush to be dick hoppin' like you, but niggas are a fucking migraine," I retorted, as I sauntered inside of my beauty room with her trailing behind me. "I get enough headache listening to you complain about 'em all day."
Nya plopped down on my beauty chair as I gathered things to do a soft beat on both of us. We both had tawny skin complexions so I didn't have to dig around much at all to match her shade, but Nya had a red undertone, whereas I had an orange one, so I had to use two different color correctors.
"I just don't see the problem in dating multiple niggas," she shrugged.
"Be still," I murmured, as I prepared to do her brows, after cleaning her face with some witch hazel to remove the dirt.
"It's not a problem, but Nya you need to admit that you lead niggas on with no intention of liking them for real.
You get what you can from them and move on—dropping them like a bad habit. "
"Isn't that supposed to be a bad thing? Am I supposed to feel bad. Niggas been lying since God created Adam and Eve. Adam knew damn well he bit that fuckin' apple. My point is, niggas do us dirty and go on to live happy lives too. So why am I getting all the hate from you?"
"You don't listen. I said you don't give them a chance to actually know them for real."
"Well it ain't my fault I'm picky. I was taught to never settle for less," she stated.
"Yeah whatever," I laughed, as I applied her foundation.
It didn't take long to do her makeup because she always went for that effortless "makeup no makeup" look. Little to no blush, a fire lip combo, some highlighter, and she was done. That's exactly why I stayed clowning her about not really knowing how to do makeup the way I liked it done.
Me? I'm a full glam type of girl. Give me full coverage every time—dewy foundation laid smooth, concealer, contour, more concealer, blush, pressed powder, setting powder, and a cute lip combo to bring everything together.
I like my makeup soft but noticeable, the kind that makes a bitch feel expensive the second she looks in the mirror.
For tonight, I decided on a bold red lip combo. It pulled the whole look together perfectly and matched my outfit like it was made for it.
Nya was done getting dressed. She was already sitting on my chaise, applying body shimmer all over her chest, arms, legs and feet. She'd seen me naked more than my mama so I didn't mind about getting dressed with her in the room.
"Bitch you look good," Nya complimented me with a grin on her face.
I glanced over at her, matching her expression and did a cute spin. "Don't I though?"
I already knew the dress was dangerous the moment I slipped it over my skin.
The leopard print clung to every curve like it was painted on me, molding against my waist, hips and thighs so perfectly it almost felt like I was committing a sin.
The deep plunge in the front showed just enough to make a man stare too long, but honestly?
I wore it because it was a cute number that made me feel fine as fuck and look untouchable.
The ruching around my hips hugged me in all the right places while the slit exposed my leg every time I took a step, giving just enough drama to keep attention on me without saying a word. The sleeveless combo balanced everything out, adding a level of classiness, meshed with an edge of sexy.
When I walked over to my floor-length mirror in the corner of my room, I didn't see a woman trying too hard, I saw a woman fully stepping into herself and knows what she's capable of.
My full ample breasts looked good and juicy, thanks to my boob-tape, holding up my 46 DDD's. Also, the black thong didn't expose my pussy, no matter how much I moved. And I made sure to wear nipple covers.
As far as my hair, the Burmese curly half-wig blended in with my natural hair so good, you couldn't tell me that it wasn't coming from my scalp. Thanks to Nya for hooking me up, I'd start purchasing more half-wigs from her vendor often.
"Hmph, I love having a fine-ass friend!" Nya giggled behind me.
My head shot back to see her recording me, holding her phone up, making me bend over and shake my ass just a tad bit before releasing a guttural laugh and walking towards her, putting my hand over her back camera.
"You look fine as hell too, Nya. I take it that's your fuck-me dress," I nodded, with my eyes roaming over her body.
"Yup," she answered, dramatically sounding out the p. "May the biggest dick win."
"I can't stand your dumb ass," I giggled, hitting her playfully on the arm.
Despite her ain't-shit-ass ways, I can see why many men flocked to Nya.
She was bad to the fucking bone. Her aura always reeked of sex appeal.
Bitches didn't like her either, because just like me niggas neglected their priorities to make her happy.
She was out here getting cars repossessed due to failed payments.
A woman went viral, shaming Nya instead of her husband, because she found out about all the hefty transactions.
If she stopped doing hair for a while, her bills would be paid, off the dime of a trick-ass nigga.
I'm sure she'd leave with a few broken promises tonight.
The fiery orange, rust and cream abstract print melted together like flames against her skin.
It hugged her body tight from top to bottom, molding against every curve like it had been sewn onto her.
The structured corset-inspired bust lifted her chest perfectly while the thin straps kept the look delicate and feminine.
The asymmetrical hemline and high side slit, showed off her thick thighs and legs, adding movement and sex appeal.
Nya paired it with some black laced-up heels from Gianvito Rossi and her hair was trimmed in layers, framing her oval-shaped face.
Unlike me, she wasn't wearing any panties, not even a thong or a G-string, so if she moved the wrong way her pussy would be exposed.
"We need to get going, so I can order the car," I mentioned, as she switched everything from one purse to the other. "I need you to take me some pictures too. That's the least you can do."
"Bitch fuck you. I'm not about to walk around being your professional photographer. Get somebody else to do it."
"But you're so good at it," I giggled.
Our heels clacked throughout my house as we took each other's pictures and recorded videos to post later. I had a feeling tonight was going to be a good night.