Table Of ContentShara &
Friends
Naughty
Bites
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2009 Dréa Riley-Frisky Whiskey
Copyright© 2009 Laura Guevara-Cowboy Loving Night
Copyright© 2009 Shara Azod-Double Up
Copyright© 2009 Jeanie Johnson & Jayha Leigh-Original
Gangsta Daddy
Cover Artist: Shara Azod
Editor: Jennifer Puckettt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or
give any ebooks away.
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DEDICATION
We would like to dedicate this anthology to all our readers.
You guys rock, thank you so much for supporting our work.
~Shara
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F W
RISKY HISKEY
BY
D R
RÉA ILEY
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Frisky Whiskey
Angelo sat in his usual booth, nursing his usual scotch on the
rocks. He had absolutely no desire to be at The Depot tonight. Well,
almost absolutely none. There was the cute cherub behind the bar. He
had a desire for her all right. He snorted as he watched the mix of
pseudo yuppies, fake cowboys, and pretend bikers mix with the local
college crew. There probably wasn’t a bar in history that could be
what this place was. This place brought ‘em all together. Sure there
was tension, but that was part of the allure, and it never boiled over. If
folks wanted to fight they took it to one of the other clubs in the famed
Depot District. But if they wanted to dance with the hottest girls, drink
the best booze, taste bar food that made the world’s top chefs jealous
(well that was until the owner made nice and invited them in for dinner
and then left them weeping in their plates); if they wanted to watch the
best musicians showcased, they came here. And everyone came here.
Here was a converted warehouse off I-27 in down town
Lubbock, Texas. The neon lights blazed the club’s name brightly:
SHHHHH…! And as far as Angelo was concerned as long as she was
behind that bar, here was the outskirts of heaven. He watched as he
did almost every Saturday night. She mixed drinks with a
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showmanship flare and made easy conversation with the patrons.
When there wasn’t a group of men vying for position at the long wood
and chrome bar she’d dance with the other bartender. The long mirror
behind the bar and along the ceiling reflected her beauty for all to see.
Her ensemble always consisted of some form of boots, a pair or well
worn and often times ripped jeans and wide range of tops, from tee
shirts to jerseys, tank tops to corsets.
Tonight was a corset night. The purple brocade was the real
McCoy. Because of the mirror he could see that there were two set of
laces each started in the middle of her creamy chocolate back. The first
set of laces looked wider, more like ribbon than the bottom laces.
Though they were probably laced just as tight there were delectable
little flashes of skin between them and they ended in an artful knot that
resembled a rose sitting between her shoulder blades. The second set
was laced so tightly together that only air could penetrate the gaps,
ending in a neat bow, with the strings dancing along the tantalizing
globes peeking over the waist of her low rise denim skirt.
That scrap of material caused Angelo to sit up straighter. She
never wore skirts, let alone something that minuscule. The cloth was
cupping the globes of her ass as if holding on for dear life. Angelo
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watched closely as she moved from customer to customer. Her thick
thighs taunting him from over the tops of her knee high boots. He
followed the line of those thighs until they disappeared under the
shadow of the skirt. His mouth watered as he continued to watch her
working. He marveled at the graceful way she moved. Desire raced
through his blood and he felt it increasingly more difficult to remain
seated across the room.
A fine sheen of sweat coated her skin. It was like looking at
stretched silk. There was no one thing that described her rich ebony
tones. She had the look of gooey caramel covered in a thin layer of
rich milk chocolate. Just then she raised a delicate hand to brush back
and errant curl. Angelo’s breath caught as she suddenly pumped both
arms in the air and swiveled her hips. The little bobbing motion she
was doing threatened to expose her bountiful breasts. He waited
willing those globes to spill over while praying that they wouldn’t.
Somehow she must have felt him watching her. She opened her eyes
and locked on to him. Angelo knew she had on colored contact lenses.
She’d admitted to him a while back that she kept the opaque lenses as
part of her “disguise.”
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“No one here knows me ‘Lo,” she’d whispered in that sultry
southern drawl. “They come to SHHhhh! for a show and a good time,
that’s what I give them.” She’d leaned over the bar then, neatly
pouring his scotch behind her back while getting close enough to
whisper in his ear. “This is my business, ‘Lo …and business is good.”
Suddenly his hunger for her was greater than it had ever been.
Months of watching her dance behind that bar were finally taking their
toll. Angelo slid out of the booth and stood. He checked the crowd
and made eye contact with the waitress before tossing down a few bills
and diving in to the fray. Swaying bodies brushed against him but he
didn’t slow down. A few feet on to the dance floor and a skinny
blonde stepped purposefully in front of him. She moved fluidly with
the music and shook what she must have imagined to be a backside.
She looked over her shoulders at Angelo in a blatant “how can you not
want all of this” fashion. Angelo quirked one thick brow at her before
gently placing his hands on her hips. He felt her hip bones stab his
palms and fought the urge to gag. He hated skinny women. Well, hate
was a strong word. Angelo didn’t hate very many people he just had a
preference for his women to look like women and not like skeletons.
When the blonde began to execute the “I’m gonna dance around you
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so have follow me move” Angelo rolled his eyes heavenwards. Once
he felt her at his back sliding down to undoubtedly crouch in some
awkward see my panties move, Angelo started making his way to the
bar again. He was sure the little vixen was flat on her ass, but he
couldn’t be bothered to care. This time he pasted a “get the fuck out
my way” look on his face and watched as the crowd seemed to clear a
path for him.
Lisa felt Jarron tap her on the shoulder. She’d had her back to
the bar pulling a tray of chilled schooners from the blast freezer neatly
hidden under the liquor cabinet. She caught her friend’s eye in the
mirror and followed his gaze behind them. If it hadn’t been for
Jarron’s reflexes she would have dropped the tray and broken all
twenty four of the mugs. Lisa barely acknowledged Jarron moving the
tray from her hands to the bar. Her gaze was locked on to and tracking
the most stunning specimen of maleness to ever set foot in Texas.
She didn’t miss the small throng of women who tried to
position themselves in his path. It was amusing, really, they way
women attempted to attract the attention of a handsome, alluring man.
Even women who had come to the bar with their significant others and
were currently dancing with their mates began to over exaggerate their
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movements. It looked like a bad shampoo commercial as long manes
of red, brown and silver began being tossed over shoulders. And the
bad thing was, once the hair show started then the men felt they had to
step up their game. Competing to keep their partners focused on them.
It was all hilarious to Lisa. She shook her head and watched as
one girl in particular broke from the middle of the crowed to dance
with Angelo. He politely indulged the madness for a few moments but
as the chick worked her way behind him he walked off leaving her
practically sprawled on the dance floor. Lisa winced; she hoped the
girl had on underwear, if not someone was getting an eye full. She
watched as the would-be vixen was assisted off the floor by a couple
of females, all of their expressions feigned concern and hiding
laughter. The blonde stared daggers at Angelo’s retreating back before
storming from the dance floor in dramatic huff.
Lisa caught his eye and watched as he gave a small shrug and
rolled his eyes. He continued his path to the bar, this time undeterred.
Two years of Saturdays and the man still took her breath away.
It was always the same. He came early and stayed till the place closed.
He wasn’t a weekend partier though. Only Saturday nights. Buisness
and other things kept him busy Monday through Friday. Sunday he’d
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