Honey

1.) Clubbing

Honey watched herself whining in her full-length mirror to Ooh by Natalie. Her pale blue boy short, bustier-bra set covered her plump ass and round C-cups, complementing her honey brown skin.

Honey was that bitch around the way. Every man wanted her, and every female wanted to be like her, but she kept her circle small. She trusted no one.

At twenty-one years of age, Honey was a novelty: a virgin. She had received plenty of head over the years with no desire to receive penetration or return the favor, remaining elusive when asked.

She worked in the suburbs as a bank teller, but her father spoiled her so rotten that working was just a hobby. Something to occupy time. She also enjoyed the feeling of having her own money saved.

Honey's daddy, Ross, better known as Sly to the streets, was notorious for his underground criminal activity and his way with the ladies. He washed his money in an auto service center complete with a full car wash, detail center, accessory center, and tires and rims. He also owned a convenience store and two bars.

With the money he made, Ross spoiled the hell out of his four girls and greased the palms of his eleven boys. Biologically, he had only ten children, three girls and seven boys. But he adopted children his wives had before him.

Honey, being his baby girl, the youngest of all fifteen children, was nothing short of a brat. Especially considering her mother, Lovey, was his favorite. She had his oldest son and his youngest daughter. His oldest and youngest children. She had always been his number one, just not his only.

Lovey owned a lingerie store. She had gotten the startup money from Ross, but she was independent. Ross made sure all of his wives had their own things and didn't have to depend on him. He told them all, "I ain't holding you hostage. Have yo own shit and leave me if you wanna!" Lovey didn't need anything from him but some good loving.

Honey spritzed herself in a new scent from her mother's line and headed to her closet to dress. She pulled out a pair of denim shorts and a crop top, finding a nice pair of pumps.

Her sisters, Bria'Jaye, Naila, and Passion, told her to slide through to some new nigga's party. They were her sisters, so she ain't have no problem rolling with them. The four of them did everything together. They were the only reason she was going.

She had heard his name around the hood a few times. Trap was apparently that nigga. Still, Honey didn't find herself impressed. She didn't give much stock to anyone. Seeing her daddy, she had trained herself with the mentality that she would make a man work so hard for her attention that when he finally got it, he wouldn't have the time or desire to have roving eyes. She wasn't the maker of this game. She would sure win it, though. She had already crowned herself MVP.

Dressed to kill, Honey checked that her hair was nothing short of perfect. Not a strand out of place.

Her dog, Sundae, sat on the sofa, looking adorable in her little pink shirt and bow. She tapped her leg, and Sundae came running.

To say they were inseparable was to make an understatement. There were few places Honey went without her baby.

She made her way to the door, narrowly avoiding colliding into her brother, Cash. He was two weeks older than her, and the duo was always together. Cash's girlfriends often envied how much of his attention she got. If Cash had bought some nice shades or some fly shoes, or an expensive perfume, it was usually with intentions of giving his sister a gift. When girlfriends saw these things and took them, assuming they would be the recipient, Cash looked at them sideways. No. This was why bitches needed their own, instead of lookin' for a man to constantly shell out dough.