Chanitra, though she spoke ebonics impressively well, was not really a 'hood-rat or homegirl, having come from a lower middle class family along with her sister Yvette and several (Laura did not know how many) brothers. In fact, their father was a crane-operator, a rare and coveted skill, as Yvette had told Laura, and they had grown up comfortably. But it was part of Chanitra's image to talk trash, just as it was to wear her hair in enchanting beaded braids-short, shoulder-length braids, very unlike Randi's long ones, or Taneesha's very long ones, though a lot like those worn by Venus Williams, whom she physically resembled, except that Chanitra was prettier.It was also part of her style to wear excruciatingly tight pants, and, weather permitting, midriff blouses that showed off, depending on her movements, large smooth areas of her beautiful dark back and stomach. Laura wondered if she didn't have a whole closet full of midriff blouses. Today she was dressed in a bright yellow one,. How the fuck did you swing this?” “I won a poker tournament,” I said. “Hey, Tom.” “Hey,” he grunted. Tom was a man of few words most of the time. But he really got into roleplaying his characters and could be a down right chatterbox if he was playing the right character. I led Tom and Karl inside. Quatch was sitting in a recliner getting blown by Willow. His head was thrown back and his mouth wide in amazement and he had a fistful of her raven-black hair. “Holy shit,” Tom muttered. “You runnin' a brothel, Mark?” Karl gaped. “These are my sex slaves,” I said. “They do whatever me our my fiancee wants.” “Fiancee?” Tom asked. “Yeah, I'm getting married in a month,” I said. “I want you guys to be my groomsmen and Quatch, I was hopping you could be my best man.” “Shit, I'll fucking do whatever you want!” he moaned. “I haven't had my dick sucked in two years.” “Choose a lady,” I told Mat and Karl. “She'll be your personal slave for the night. She'll serve you drinks, fetch you snacks, and.
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