To the reader:
This is a story about how I met my spouse. Parts are true. Parts are embellished truth. It's up to you to decide what is what. Enjoy.
A girl with long blond hair and a nice looking booty stood on the sidewalk staring Miles' direction. Miles was in the middle of the street mumbling the words to New Edition's "Can You Stand the Rain."
It was not raining, just drizzling a little. The blonde looked down the sidewalk, watching a few fellas trying to pick up them a little "sumthin' sumthin'" as the saying goes. But Teresa really had her eyes on Miles. She'd peeped him out in the club, watching him move while he was on the floor getting his groove on.
Teresa liked what she saw. She wasn't much of a dancer, but his effortless and carefree moves suggested that he loved to dance. Teresa was interested in learning more.
And she did.
"Hey, you better get out of the road before you get hit," she said, blurting the first thing that came to her mind.
"I'm all right. No worries about gettin' hit."
The street wasn't busy anyway. In fact, it was just a side road, an oversized alley behind a hotel.
"What are you suicidal or something?"
Miles thought the girl was trippin'. Then again, he thought she was probably horny, too. Just like one of the fellas wanting to say anything to keep the conversation flowing. It amused Miles. He would have done the same thing.
Miles approached Teresa and noticed she was wearing some silky pants, stylish in a powerful female executive way. The slacks were a little looser than most, and Miles liked the type. They flowed with the booty a little more. They didn't hug the booty, but they allow it its natural jiggle to, well - jiggle.
Miles had spied the booty from a distance and wanted peep it from up close. But walking to her and then circling around her like an inspector would've been ill.
Some commotion happened at the door to the club, and she turned around.
"Nice," Miles said, under his breath.
Good width he thought. The roundness was all right, too. He could see she had a flat stomach and smallish breasts. But, she did a good job outlining her chest with one of those sweaters that buttons very low. The open part of the sweater came up on either side and went over the tip of each of her breasts. The white sweater and pastel-colored t-shirt she had under it did good job of giving her an innocent look.
Miles, however, knew that was a front because that innocence faded as soon as she turned around. He was standing about a foot and a half from her, definitely within her personal space.
She smiled.
For a few odd seconds of silence, Miles looked in her eyes, and Teresa looked in his. They both though the same thing: lips on lips, hands groping here and caressing there, fingers poking and prodding, her on top, him from behind.
They seemingly read each other's minds and smiled and almost knowing smile.
"Why were you standing in the road?" Teresa asked.
"There were no cars coming," Miles said. "I was just wasting time waiting for my boy."
"Where is he?"
"Ahh, he's inside tryin' to find a girl to go home with. And probably strikin' out."
Teresa laughed.
"Why aren't you inside?" she said.
Miles started thinking, 'C'mon dawg. Be cool. This is a test. This is a test.' Those were the thoughts going through his head.
"Hey, I came out to dance because I love dancing," Miles said, smiling. "I'm not too worried about finding somebody to go home with."
"Oh, so you think you got it like that, huh?" Teresa said. "Like you're going to get somebody anyway?"
"Nah, it's not like that. It's not some ego thing. I just don't go out looking to get laid. Now, now, don't get me wrong. If it happens, hey. She's feelin' it and I'm feelin' it, we can do that happy wild thing."
Teresa gave Miles a smile that his dick stir.
They continued with a little small talk. He found out her name was Teresa. She thought his name, Miles, was different and interesting, especially for a black guy. She was a 22-year-old a psychology major at the local college. He was 19 and majoring in football. Business was his educational interest.
"Hey girl. What's up?" came words from this girl Miles noticed as a somebody he'd danced with earlier. Outside, in the streetlight, she didn't look too good. But Miles wasn't interested in her anyway.
"Hey, Alicia," Teresa said. "This is Miles. Miles, Alicia."
Alicia gave Miles a quick once over and started talking about wanting to get out of there because of some guy who was following her around. Miles laughed, thinking it was probably his buddy. Barry liked those skinny booty girls anyway.
Some tall scraggily looking guy came up to the three of them, and Teresa gave him keys to go get her car. Two minutes later, he came back with a sweet looking charcoal gray Honda Accord.
Miles' friend came out and wanted to leave.
"These girls are trippin'," Barry said. "Man let's jet."
Miles quickly introduced Barry to Teresa and Alicia.
"I can give you a ride home if you need it," Teresa told Miles, hoping he would accept the invite.
"Oh, you can give me a ride?" Miles said, ever smiling.
"I'd love to. It'd be no problem."
Miles turned to Barry and said things were cool. Barry looked on, dumbfounded. Miles didn't try but was leaving with two women, and Barry was leaving with none.
The irony wasn't lost on either of them.
Miles got in the co-passenger seat. Alicia got in the back, and the three left.
Barry stood there shaking his head.
Teresa drove ahead, turning left onto College Avenue. She said something about going out to one of her girlfriend's houses. Her girlfriend supposedly had a pool and a hot tub. The hot tub talk perked Miles up a bit.
He had old shorts on under his pants, always did, some football thing. But Miles wondered what Teresa was going to wear if we got in the water. Would she have to wear a t-shirt that would cling to her breasts, maybe some shorts that when she got out of the water would cling to the crack of her booty outlining it just right.
"I'm glad to get out of there," Alicia said, breaking Miles' thought process.
"Why?" Teresa said.
"This guy ... ah I don't know. I'm tired of all these muthafuckas trying to get some play."
"Well you know how the club scene is."
Miles chuckled, thinking about somebody actually wanting to get into Alicia pants. Based on looks alone, she wasn't doing it for him. Yeah, she was all right to dance with. But at one point while they were dancing, she had her butt on his pelvis and he felt her but bone.
Nothing was more disgusting. Miles likes booty, not fat woman, PHAT women, athletic women, thick women with some muscle definition. He didn't want a body builder, but he could tell Alicia never saw the inside of a gym. Teresa, on the other hand, definitely had.