Now see, this was the kinda shit that made me mad. Why did he challenge me like that? "You wear draws."
     His eyes lit up.
     "Wrong. Draws gives me a rash. What size do I wear?"
     I shot from the hip.
    "A nine."
     His mouth hit the floor.
     "A nine?" he spat vehemently. He couldn't believe his ears. "I said boxers, not shoe size."
     He was appalled. Right now he couldn't stand the sight of me and the only sight I wanted to see was his dick going in and out of me until I came out the gushy stuff. He had some good dick!
"Anyways, this is pointless."
     He got in my face. "What's my favorite color?"
     "Blue," I guessed.
     "Black. And my favorite entertainer?"
     I felt stupid. "Toni Braxton."
     He rolled his eyes and released a large gush of air. "I can't stand the bitch. Whitney is my favorite entertainer."
     OK. So I didn't know him like the back of my hand, which is probably why I barely look at my hands. "We need to talk."
     He sneered. It made my heart jump. "All you do is talk, Inspector Gadget."
     I tucked my chin back. "Inspector Gadget."
     "Yea." He walked up to me, his hands in his pockets. Hold me! Touch me! Kiss me! Do something, Niggah! I craved his touch.