I don’t accept drinks from strangers
Nina Phiri stares at the long email from her manager. A deep sigh leaves her lung as her eyes skim through all the gigantic words displayed on the cracked screen protector of her cracked Huawei Mate Pro. Her custom girl boss matte moss green phone case matches her long acrylic stiletto moss green nails.
Tonight, she has opted for a criss cross back tie plunging neck pickle green body-con dress. It clings to her thick things, digging into her snatched waist that peeks through, displaying the flower tattoo that spans from the side of her thick curvy thigh all the way to under her ribcage to her pierced belly button, before molding back into the material stretching over her D-cup swelling breasts.
She has a small inscription that goes from the swelling ridge of her right breast to her neck. Nina was a 10, and she had been told several times that a girl with a body like hers did not belong in a booth in the fifth floor in a bank reading data thanks to her investment analysis degree.
Her current manager was one of those that had been in the cubicle for over two decades, and she couldn’t get her head out her ass far enough to function like a literal human and not a corporate demon.
Apparently, she was being summoned to a HR meeting because she wore a skirt that was above her knees. It was giving the 1800s oppression. Nina grabs her phone and starts typing at the speed of lighting.
She had read the company dress code policy word for word, and there was no way she was going to satisfy that bitch and act like a beggar. Most of these managers were aware of how tough it was for graduates to find jobs, and they used that against them.
Nina was not the one to be bullied. Satisfied with her answer to the email, she presses send and slides her phone into her evening bag. She pulls out cherry pink Fenty lipstick and reapplies it on her round lips.
Smack! Smack!Goes the sound of her lips as she lets the lipstick set in.
A final inspection of her face has her smiling to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Nina spent most of her teenage years learning how to apply the right make-up on her milk-chocolate skin shade, and at 24, she was a pro.
She had spent the same amount of time learning which hairstyles worked for her heart-shaped face hence why slicked up braided ponytails were her favourite go to for a night out, paired with hoops.
The hairstyle made her deep-set eyes pop more. The ring hanging between her wide spread nostrils of her wide nose was an accessory she could not live without. She strides out of the bathroom, walking on her second-hand six-inch Jimmy Choo heels like she was born to walk the runway.
“I didn’t know this was your scene…” comes the devils voice as she steps out of the bathroom.
Did this asshole follow her to the bathrooms? She wouldn’t put it past him. Nina turns her head to glare at her best friend’s ex-boyfriend, Raps. It was an insult to the rap culture for this guy to be nick named it because he could not distinguish a rhyme from shit if it hit him on the face.
And his government name was Kelekile. Translated to English, his name literally meant ‘I tried’. Poor woman really did try to make a decent human being out of this asshole.
Nina looks at him from head to toe. Brand clothes that cost a fortune hang from his skinny structure thanks to all the white lines he was constantly sniffing. For some reason, he thought wearing only brand names made him cool.
It was cheesy, and she had let him know several times how ridiculous he looked. No wonder his trust fund was drying up faster than water in the Sahara. Gold diggers didn’t have to work hard to find this one.
“Are you stalking me?” she blurts out.
He chuckles to himself as if she asked something amusing, “don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”
Nina folds her arms over her chest regretting her choice of outfit when his perverted gaze falls on her chest. He didn’t even hide the fact that he was checking her out.
She sucks her teeth and tries not to throw up all over his Nike shoes. What in the world did Sethunya see in this guy?! He was lewd, crude, and a-
When his eyes don’t lift up from her chest and he has the nerve to bite his lip, Nina decided she has had enough of this bullshit for the night! She brushes past him and walks away, cursing the universe for giving her a pert shelf bottom she knew he was checking out. What a douche!
She makes an effort to concentrate on something else. No manager or douche was going to ruin her night out. As if the DJ was in her thoughts, he plays one of her jams as she enters the lounge, and she sways to the music, letting it take control of her body.
The small private lounge was full to the brim. It was a well-known spot, and it only took a certain number of people per night. Everyone was trying to get in. Nina recognized most of the faces. They were celebrities, influencers, musicians, producers e.t.c.
This was where most networks of the entertainment industry were made. She was not exactly a fan of the elite crowds that came here, but she was a fan of the DJ and the barista, hence why she was here.
“Margarita?”
Nina looks down at the counter as a Margarita glass slides her way. She frowns and turns to find a tall man leaning on the counter with his elbow, his long legs crossed. His smile was what made her eyes glue to him for a second too long.
It was a genuine boyish sheepish grin. He has downturned lips with a full lower lip. Everything else about his square face is plain. Hooded eyes, button Nubian nose, and alluring brown skin. His freshly plaited cornrows pulled back his upturned bushy eyebrows a bit.
Nothing about his outfit told you he was anything but a regular man who probably worked a nine to five. The simple Harem joggers that molded his long athletic build, the Ralph Lauren round neck cotton shirt, converse sneakers that look like they were on their last leg and an Amex watch?!
Probably a knock off. A lot of people who came here were trying to look like they were balling. But most of them were barely making ends meet and slept on couches, or were a phone call away from being bankrupt. It was tough being an entertainer.
“I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” she says, turning away from him to peer at the barista.
“Usual?” Skara, the barista, asks glancing her way and ignoring a few girls who were ogling him. By ogling, she meant they were pushing out their tits for him to see. Nina smiles at him and nods. The girls glanced her way, obviously unhappy that she did not have to do much to get Skara’s attention.
“That’s fair,” the stranger responds in heavily accented Setswana, pulling the Margarita glass away from her, “my apologies for making you uncomfortable.”
Nina glances at him, “thanks…?”
Skara walks over to her side and slides the glass to her. He eyes the stranger intensely before locking eyes with him. “Is he bothering you? I can ask Moreri to deal with him.”
Nina sips her cosmopolitan and moans. Skara was the best barista in the city, in her opinion. Not only that, he was also good looking too. A deadly combination for the girlies.
The ink on his broad arms made the girls go crazy, hence why he always had his shirt pulled back. You could see a bit of his ink peeking from under it.
The two of them spent a considerable amount of time smoking cigarettes when they were supposed to be in class in their teens. They had regular working class parents who poured a lot of money into their private school education, and they did not care.
He had been there when she got her first piercings and ink, and vice versa. Basically, he was her bad decision buddy.
Tall. Espresso brown skin. Broad shoulders. Ink. Piercings. Bow-shaped lips. Prominent deep brown eyes. Skara was everything Nina wanted, but he couldn’t see her past the friendship tittle.
“Are you going to keep throwing people out for talking to me?” she asks with a smirk.
Skara leans on his elbows, grinning down at her, “I have a day off tomorrow. Should we go catch a movie?” he asks in a raspy voice that made her dream of things she shouldn’t.
“I don’t know. I thought you and the new girl warming your bed have plans,” she mentions, jealousy coating the sour expression on her face.
Skara chuckles, “she and I have…” cocks his head to the side, “… an understanding.”
“So she is your new fuckbuddy?” She concludes, taking a sip of his magic drink. If he gave her a chance, she would gladly fill up that position for him. She already knew the way to his heart; all she had to do was master the way to his pants, and he would never let her go. Right? Wasn’t that a perfect love story?
“Fuckbuddies are a necessity. I have my needs.” He says in a hoarse voice, his eyes dropping to her lips. Did she also mention how much of a flirt Skara was? Dude could charm the pants off of a nun if he wanted to. Someone calls his name, and she snaps out of the trance she was in.
“Movies?” he questions, stepping back.
“Movies,” she responds and watches him go back to mixing drinks.
Hoots and cheers make her look over her shoulder to see her best friend, Sethunya dancing to the latest Amapiano hit. A slow smile forms at the corners of her lips.
Sethunya was a free spirit, hence the mini skirt that bounced up and down on her round ass, threatening to expose the lace thong she wore. Her crop top covers little of the ink on her back, and her long lace front black weave swings around as she dances.
Crowds were naturally attracted to her best friend. She was beautiful, charismatic, and an absolute gem. Nina had a literal platonic crush on her. The tat on her wrist was a testament to her obsession with Sethunya. They did everything together and have been doing so since they were thirteen years old.
“Why aren’t you on the dance floor?” the stranger beside her asks, “I thought you liked to dance,” she turns to him, arching a brow, “I follow you on TikTok.”
Ah. Another one of those groupies. “The keyword there is TikTok.”
“But you’re a good dancer. Just because you do TikTok dance challenges it doesn’t mean you can’t hold your own on the dance floor,” he tells her.
Nina looks away from his intense brown eyes to stare at the dance floor, watching as her best friend danced with another world class douchebag, the mayor’s son.
They were not dancing really. Grinding against each other in a sexual manner could not be classified as dancing. It was outlandish! She exhales. Sethunya sure knew how to pick them.
“I just don’t care for dancing like that.”
“Didn’t you want to go to dance school at some point in your life?”
Nina turns back to him, shocked anyone remembered that. She had divulged that information in one of her earliest videos, and most people had never watched it.
“I’m an avid follower,” he answers her wordless question.
“I did. It’s just wasn’t practical. Finance pays me enough to not become a burden to my parents,” she tells him honestly.
“You could always do both,” he suggests.
She draws from her straw, thinking on it, “maybe.”
“I’m Ibrahim Ashraf by the way.” He introduces himself, extending his big hand. When she doesn’t take it, he chuckles and shoves the hand into his joggers.
“You don’t go around shaking hands with strangers who know way too much about you?”
“Bingo!” she exclaims with a smile.
“Fair,” he nods, “I hope we run into each other again. I have a feeling you and I will get along very well,” he says, grabbing his beer and walking away.
Uh…
So he was not one of the posers, she concludes as she watches him head to the VIP part of the lounge to sit with some of the music promoters and some high end corporate and company owners who liked to have a good time.
Under the dim lights of the VIP, Nina watches as he looks her way. The corners of his lips curl, giving her a boyish grin, and she blushes, caught red handed. She turns away from his intense gaze.
Someone coups a feel of her butt cheek, and she jerks away. She turns around to glare at none other than Raps. He whistles, and derisive laughter leaves his drunken lips.
“Don’t touch me!” Nina sternly shouts.
He reaches out again, trying to touch her. Nina takes a step back, almost falling over her Jimmy Choo heels.
“Don’t act like that. We both know that you want some of this,” he slurs, his hand palming his obvious hard on.
Bile rises to her throat. He tries again, this time managing to grab her wrist and pushing her hand against his groin. Nina felt her insides turn in disgust. She tries to struggle out of his hold, and he smiles down at her.
“Let’s drop the act, Nina. We both know Sethunya is not my type. The only reason I tapped her ass is because I wanted to get close to you,” he confesses, his hot stinking breath fanning down her neck.
Boldly, he grabs a great chunk of her thick thighs with his hand and squeezes, his fingers trying to trail up her dress as she struggles to get out of her hands. Raps tries to put his sloppy, diseased lips on her nape, and she knees him on the groin.
“You bitch!” he manages to say between deep pained breaths and staggers towards her.
“Hey! Get the fuck away from her!” Skara shouts over the loud music.
A shiver runs down her spine. It felt like everyone was looking at her. Judging her. All of a sudden, her dress did not feel so sexy anymore. She felt exposed. Skara stands in front of her, blocking her eyes from seeing the douchebag.
“Wait for me in my car. I’m going to grab my stuff,” Skara tells her, putting his car keys in her palm.
Nina nods and rushes out of the lounge, not wanting to be in this crowd any minute longer than necessary.
