“Black Pussy” T-shirt Works

I own and manage a bar in an up and coming section of Dallas and as the bar owner, I am forever mindful that there are folks out to get me or get in on the take. The bar is a quiet little place, with cutting edge bands that often come in and play on the weekends and the bar is also well known as being a cool place where local artists can hang out. The crowd is mostly in their late forties and early fifties, but on Friday and Saturday evenings the crowd is noticeably a lot younger.Sheila was a groupie for one of the more unique bands that had played at my club over the past few months and while she didn’t exactly stand out as an extremely attractive young lady in her middle twenties, she had a knock-out lean-looking body that looked like it was made for only one thing. Sheila had coal black skin and the whitest teeth I think I have ever seen and her smile was beguiling and quiet. I provided her some free drinks, in an effort to hopefully win her over, but she remained rather distant and only came into the club whenever her favorite groups were playing.I finally mustered up the courage one Friday night and told her she should come into the club in a slower night, like a Sunday night. She smiled and said she was not a club person. I had decided to give up on her when one Sunday night I looked up and there should Sheila, asking for a mimosa at the bar. I worked my way over to where she stood and told my bartender that I’d take care of her drink.I had worn a shirt that night that read “Black Pussy” which was the name of an alternative rock band. I had bought the shirt – not because I liked the group- heck, I had never heard of them- but because I just wanted to just be different and obtuse.Sheila took note of my shirt after I pushed her drink across the bar in her direction.“That’s an interesting shirt,” she remarked. I looked down ankara travesti and suddenly realized it was probably offensive in nature. I waited for her to chide me for wearing an offensive shirt. Instead, she asked, “Do you?”“Pardon me?” I replied.“Do you?”I was lost.“Do you like Black Pussy?”I quickly apologized and explained that I had bought the shirt not knowing who the group was and because I liked what it said.Sheila smiled.“So, do you like Black Pussy?” she pressed.I stayed quiet for a second. No matter how I answered the question, I knew there would be a follow up question.“I like all types of pussy,” I mumbled.“But mostly black pussy?” Sheila pressed. She knew I was in an uncomfortable position and I think she was enjoying the uncomfortableness I was feeling at that moment.Sheila had me. She knew it.“Am I prejudiced?” I answered back. “Yes, I am. I only like beautiful people and I only hook up with girls I like.”Sheila took a sip from her mimosa as I stood and nervously wiped one of the bar glasses in my hand.“Do I make you nervous?” she asked.“No,” I replied. “Why?”“Well,” she replied, “You’ve been cleaning the same glass for the entire time we have been talking, so I, just wondering.”She had me and again, she knew it.“So, are you single?” she asked.“Yes,” I replied. “What about you?”“I married to a big black guy who’s six foot four and weighs close to two sixty,” she replied.I guess the look of shock must’ve crossed my face. She quickly flashed her toothy white smile and added, “I got ya.”She took a sip of her drink and leaned forward in my direction, looking to her right and then her left, before asking in almost a low whisper,“If I wear a shirt in here that reads, ‘I like white dick,’ would that offend you?”My quick-witted self, replied, “Do you?”“Do I what?” she asked.“Do you like white dicks,” I pressed.Sheila travesti ankara laughed.“I guess I had that coming,” she responded.“Yes, you did,” I replied, pressing her for an answer. “You still didn’t answer my question.”She took another sip from her mimosa and peered back at me from behind the straw.“Yeah,” she replied, “I only like big white dicks and I only hook up with big white dicks I like.”Too-shay.Sheila was a trip, to say the least. I found her intriguing in an odd way. As we chatted, I took note that he wore a simple silver ring on a her right thumb and no other jewelry on her hand.“Can I ask you a question?” I pressed.“Are you a lesbian?” I asked.“I can be,” Sheila replied, “but right now, I am not committed to anyone. I actually like guys, more than girls, and I keep the ring on the thumb to keep horn dogs at bay.”“Does it work?” I asked.“Sometimes,” Sheila answered, “when I want it to.”“Is it working tonight?” I asked.“Not really,” she replied, stirring her drink with her straw. “It only works when I want it to work.”I picked up another glass and wiped it with my bar towel.“Do you want another drink?” I inquired.“Only if you share it with me,” she replied.“I wish I could,” I replied, “but bartenders are not allowed to drink and serve.”“Well,” she pressed, “Why don’t we find a more private place where we won’t have to worry about breaking any laws?’Damn.“I have an office,” I replied. “Want to check it out?”She flashed her toothy smile.“Yes,” she replied, slipping off the bar stool.I made my way to the end of the bar and told Mike, my main bartender, that I was going to retire to the office for a little bit. I used my code word “retire” meaning “don’t even come knocking on the door”.Sheila stood every bit of five foot six, but I am guessing she was much shorter because she had on six-inch stiletto heels. I casually ankara travestiler slipped my hand around her waist and guided her to the back office. I closed the office door and through the latch to lock it.I motioned for Shelia to take a seat on the small couch that was situated in front of my desk, which was cluttered with stacks of invoices. As Shelia took her seat, she asked if minded her jettisoning her heels.“Go for it,” I replied, “get as comfortable as you’d like.”I sat in my office chair as she unstrapped her shoes and sat them to the side.“Are you afraid to sit next to me?” she asked.“No,” I replied. “I just didn’t want to be presumptuous.”Sheila laughed.“You’ve been chasing me for months and now all of a sudden you become shy?” she pressed.I denied chasing her, but she quickly argued back that she had seen how I looked at her. I quickly denied doing anything unprofessional.“I like being chased,” she remarked. “I don’t have the guts to really tell a guy I like him, and I am really a shy person, when you get to know me, so this is a huge step for me. I am freaking nervous as hell.”“Well,” I replied, “That would make two of us.”She patted the empty space on my couch beside her. I slipped out from behind my desk and took up the offer to sit next to her. Oh my God, she smelled so sweet.“Love your perfume,” I complimented.“I’m not wearing any perfume,’ she replied, “But I did douche this morning.”I chuckled. Her outgoing openness was refreshing.“Thank God,” I replied. “I hate a black pussy that smells.”Sheila laughed. She shook her head back and forth, her long black hair swaying back and forth. She silently slipped her hand into mine and as we interlocked fingers, I stared down at the juxtaposition of her my pale skin being intertwined with her coal black tone.“You know my pussy really isn’t black, right?”I nodded my head. I had been with several black women.“I know,” I replied. “I also know that once a man goes black, he never goes back.”“Have you been with a black woman before?” she pressed.I looked down at the words emblazoned on my t-shirt.