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Friends since toddlers: Sinclair, Mason and Joakim run an architecture and design firm; they share everything from clothes to cars to women. They encounter a pretty (and well endowed) black girl, Iminathi whilst at Sinclair's club one Friday. Immediately taking great interest in her as their next conquest. But Iminathi won't be their toy and continually defies their claim on her. Slowly, each friend develops feelings for her and things get complicated. Too complicated

Erotica / Romance
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

"Check out those girls coming in." Mason said pointing the snout of his bottle towards the club's arced twin doors. A group of six girls had just entered the dark busy place, neon lights peppering the dancing bodies, the bar and the exotic dancers in cylindrical cages over head. The three friends sat at a booth at a dark corner where they could see pretty much everything happening in the vicinity.

"Mmm, check out that black girl that's with them." Joakim hummed, eyes fixed on the group who had found a booth not too secluded from the dance floor.

"You need to be more specific, there're two black girls." Sinclair pointed, sipping from his glass.

"Well obviously, I'm talking about the one with the birthday girl sash on her." Joakim hissed with a roll of the eyes.

The girl in particular was more casually dressed than the others. Sporting a black romper that stuck to every crevice, edge and bump on her body underneath a cropped jean jacket and sneakers. She might have been the most casually dressed of the group but might have also been the most provocatively dressed.

"Damn she's fine." Joakim purred, shamelessly drinking her in.

"Look at that skin." Sinclair added.

"Skin?" Mason scoffed. "Bro, have you seen her body?"

The mystery girl's body was thought provoking. A small waist that gave way to wide hips and thick, fleshy but firm thighs.

Her chest was full and heavy, bobbing about with any rapid move she made. The bright blue and magneta lights grazed her skin with an illustrious glow. Her hair, a mass of tight curls that grazed her shoulder blades.

They watched as a club server brought two bottles of champagne in ice buckets to the group and filled their glasses. They chatted for a little, all seemed to be saying something to the birthday girl that made her scoff and roll her eyes. But she smiled at her group none the less, even when they slid out the booth and went to the dance floor, leaving her behind. She took out her phone, the bright blue like revealing her pretty heart shaped face, upturned eyes and plush lips.

"Yo, shoot me right now." Mason said, slamming his hand onto the table, marvelling at the exotic beauty.

"I'm going to talk her." He added, making to slide out the booth when Sinclair held him down.

"Not yet, we need to observe." He said.

"Yeah, what chick comes to a club for her birthday but doesn't dance?" Mason asked.

Sinclair rolled his eyes slightly. Looking from her friends who were dancing with their champagne to the birthday girl who sat with her phone, sipping hers. No visible sign of her being uncomfortable by herself.

"The kind that would rather eat pizza at home but was forced to be here because it's what her friends want." Sinclair calculated.

"We could work with her." He said with a devilish smirk.

Just then, her less impressive but beautiful African-American friend came back with a few shots. Birthday girl didn't waste time to reach for one and throw it into the back of her mouth. Puckering her lips as she nodded in satisfaction. Her friend repeated the action as they talked.

Somehow, she convinced the now slightly tipsy birthday girl to join them on the dancefloor. The DJ cut the music to make a special announcement, earning whines and boos from the crowd.

"Alright people, we've got a special request for a special little lady tonight..." He bleered into the microphone. Little was a tad inaccurate, short was more like it. The birthday girl couldn't be more than five foot two.

The crowd actually cheered, clapping, searching for the birthday girl like her sash didn't make it obvious enough. The ones around her and her group have her hugs and handshakes and sent joyful cheers down her way.

"Happy birthday Iminathi, this one's for you girl." The DJ said and played the track. An apparently popular track that the club started singing along to.

"Iminathi..." Mason purred, the name so foreign yet so sweet on his tongue.

"Oh look at that, she's actually going to dance." Joakim announced as Iminathi's group made an open circle around her, singing to cheer her on.

And just as the tempo heightened, Iminathi turned her back to the crowd and did the most mesmerising thing with her generous rear end. It seemed to be the only part of her moving. Her butt cheeks slamming into each other in time with the beat.

Mason's jaw dropped, Joakim also had his mouth slightly agape as they watched her bend over, roll her waist; bobbing her ass left to right, arms spread to her sides.

Her entourage cheering her on, and so was the crowd apparently. Two of her friends came to threw crisp dollar bills over her, surprisingly a few complete strangers came and did the same. Her African American friend picking everything up and pushing them into a tiny purse that couldn't even contain the amount of money being recklessly discarded on this woman.

"She's probably made more than my strippers do in a night." Sinclair said, eyes glued to Iminathi as she put her arms around one of her girlfriend's (a Latina) shoulders and rolled her waist with such expertise Sinclair was convinced she was an exotic dancer herself.

Unfortunately the men could not approach her at the time. No, they needed to get her alone and that wouldn't be tonight. So they left the club with hardened members. Maybe they'd have a jerk session to calm down but neither of them would be able to get Iminathi off their minds, not until Monday at least.

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