He was wearing a white sweatshirt and on the front it read PHILLY. The back read FUCK NEW YORK. Moonie scoped it before old boy got up to the stage, and just by tilting his chin sent a message to three thick-necked bouncers to check him where he stood. He was laughing as he pulled the shirt over his head, and underneath it he had on a white wife-beater with muscles bulging everywhere.

Of course I knew better than to stare. Moonie’s eyes never blinked, and I wasn’t trying to give him no dog bone to go running back to G with. So I played it chill and glanced at the brother once, then kept my eyes moving right along. But I could feel him looking at me, and when I peeped his way again I knew right then and there that he didn’t know shit about Harlem. Hell, he couldn’t have known nothing about any borough in the entire city of New York the way he was eyeballing Granite McKay’s pussy.

I watched him on the sly as he grilled me all night long: winking, grinning, and licking his lips. He was violating G like a mother, and I was waiting for Moonie or one of the bouncers to check him up and put a gun to his head. He was having himself a good old time. Punanee, one of G’s prime strippers, gave him a half-fuck lap dance, and later I peeped him kissing all over Monique’s three titties like he needed to be nursed. I knew Greco was tallying his bill up to the penny, and I also knew his pockets were deep enough where he could afford almost anything he wanted in the Spot.

Almost anything.

I watched him hit the Jacuzzi, then stroll into Ursula’s to get a massage. Later, I saw him go into the card room, then come back out and head for the cinema room. Every time he passed my way he gave me a deep, hard look, like he was fucking me with his eyes. He could have been killed for looking at me twice, and even if this was something he should have known, he damn sure didn’t seem to care. My body was boiling and I couldn’t take it no more.

“I’m hungry,” I told Moonie. “I need to get me some grub.”

He nodded. “Why don’t you send Cooter next door to get you a fish sandwich.”

I wrinkled up my nose even though I usually tore those hot whiting sandwiches up. Ronald Be Bad owned the fish joint next door, but there was also a full kitchen right here in the Spot. We sold fried chicken, hot wings, potato salad, and ribs, and the only reason G let Be Bad stay in business over there was because he didn’t want us frying fish in the Spot and having it “smelling like no stank ass pussies.”

“I got a taste for something spicy,” I told Moonie, sliding down from my stool. “I’ma go get some hot wings. You want any?”

He shook his head like I knew he would. I’d never seen Moonie eat, drink, or even take a piss break while he was working.

The kitchen was on the far left side of the Spot, across from the card room and a small room we used in the winter to check leathers and furs. I’d seen the brother with the braids heading that way, and I wanted to get another peek at him. At the counter I asked Raybelle for an order of wings with extra sauce, and the whole time she was fixing my plate I kept peeping out in the hall, my eyeballs crawling all over the place. I was walking past the card room eating a wing and carrying my plate when he stepped out of the men’s bathroom and stopped right in front of me.

“Damn,” I said, playing it off like I hadn’t been clocking for him in the first place. “Why you jump out like that? What you doing in there anyway?” I spoke with major attitude but he grinned all sexy like he didn’t even notice.

“It says,” he pointed to the sign on the door, “men’s room. I was using the bathroom.”

He sucked me up with those chinky eyes and had the nerve to stick his hands in my plate and grab one of my wings.

I sucked my teeth. “Don’t be putting your nasty hands in my plate! I don’t know where they been!”

He just laughed. “They clean, baby. I didn’t even use the bathroom. I saw you walking back and forth and I was waiting for you to come back past.”

I shrugged and pretended like I was gonna walk around him. “I still don’t know where your hands been.”

He blocked me. “I know where they wanna be.”

I gave him a look. “You must not know who I am. The hoes work out of the back rooms. You can get fucked up talking to me like that up in here.”

“Girl, you been peeping me all night long. I know you ain’t no ho. C’mere.”

He pulled me toward the coatroom snatching my plate so fast the wing I was chewing on slipped from my fingers and hit the floor, sauce everywhere.

“Man, what you doing?” I twisted out of his grasp. The spot where his hand had touched me was hot and tingling.

He put his finger to his lips. “Ssshh… c’mon, girl. You know what time it is.”

I let him pull me into the coatroom. I melted. “We gonna get caught…” I felt like a kid sneaking a hump in the closet. On some level I knew that I was playing with my life, but the thrill of it all had me on fire. I wanted this guy to do me. I wanted to feel him on me, in me, all over me.

He pulled up my dress in the dimness of the room, and pressed his lips to mine. His breath smelled sweet like chocolate. I felt his hands on my ass and I rubbed my titties against his chest. “Damn, you taste good,” he said, his tongue thick and hot and leaving wet streaks on my lips, chin, and collarbone. I was panting, unable to speak. Scared as hell we would get caught but too turned on to even think about stopping.

His fingers were between my legs, urging them wide open. He hiked up my two-thousand-dollar eggshell Armani dress and got on his knees and bit down on my crotch right through my panties. “Oh, damn,” I whispered as his teeth raked across my clit and sent chills shooting through my pussy. “That feels so good.”

He pulled my panties down with his teeth and lifted my thigh over his shoulders. “Yum,” he said, looking between my legs and smacking his lips. “Cute little monkey.”

And then it was on. The moment I had been waiting for and hoping for and praying for. His tongue was everywhere, up, down, probing, licking. I felt his lips on my clit and on my asshole, too. He made his tongue stiff and pushed it in and out of me, using it like a mini dick. I cupped his face, pulling him closer as I worked my hips faster. My fingers were wet and sticky with my juices that were covering his cheeks and dripping from his chin. I shivered and shuddered and almost snatched his cornrows out as I held on to his head and came harder than I ever had in my life. My orgasm had to have lasted only seconds, but it was so sweet it felt like forever. The intensity of it scared me. I felt the whole building rock. It was totally unlike anything I had ever felt before and I never wanted it to end. But as soon as it was over I got hit with a blast of reality. I was up in G’s spot, wearing his clothes, eating his food, and fucking with one of his customers. How stupid could I get?

“Stop,” I said, pushing him away from me. He stood up and pulled his long dick out his pants. I wanted that shit real bad, but I knew better.

“What?”

“I can’t do this.” I jumped into my panties and pulled down my dress. “Sorry, I just can’t. I’m G’s woman and this is his Spot.”

“Motherfuck G,” he said, but at least he didn’t try to stop me. I opened the door and peeked out to make sure nobody was in the hall, then I ran out and pulled it closed behind me.

Back at the bar I sat on my stool and tried to look normal. My pussy was thumping in a delicious afterglow and I kept replaying the act over and over in my mind, feeling his tongue swirling around inside me, rolling over my clit, stabbing up into me. Moonie was standing down at the other end of the bar, so I asked Cooter to go get me a bottle of cold water. Moonie saw me sitting there and came up to the top of the bar. I could feel his eyes studying me, trying to read me like a book.