It was like any other day. I opened, and had a few customers. I was listening to one of my favorite remix CD's, one of mine. The day turned to noon. You see, it was a morning rush before people headed to work, noon would come, and around 3pm the beginning of the afternoon/evening rush would start, with people buying their music, especially if it was the weekend.
But, there was always a lull between noon and 3, and that's when, on this particular day, she walked in. She wore a short hairstyle, she was about 5'9" tall, 195 to 200 pounds; she wore a form fitting dress, one of those multi-color ones-- you know with the horizontal strips-- red, yellow, blue, etc.
I recognized her. Earlier, in the 90's, I had two partners, who I used, to sit at the door to collect the money. The party promotion team, I called it-- "Home Team Productions", I was the DJ. More about that later, in the book, but I recognized her as being a co-worker of both of them; them and her worked at a clothing store in the mall. But that was at least 7 to 8 years before.
She walks in, and I said my regular, "what's going on, what cha looking for today?" She stood at the case. From my vantage point, if you've seen episodes of The BlkIce Chronicles-- I'd stand, behind the counter, at the top of the counter, and I'd be able to see everyone who walked in. But-- as I was saying, she stood at the counter, looking in the case. She said, "I want this cassette." I walked down to the case, she was standing in front of, and she squats down once I get to the case, to grab the cassette she wanted.
Of course, you've seen the episode of TBIC where I reenact this, under a different circumstance, but she wasn't an in shape hooker, she was a hefty women. When she squated, all I saw was rolls of stomach, covering where her pelvis would be. I say rolls with darkened/rubbed together inner-thigh. It was like she was holding on to the top of the counter, to balance herself, hanging from it like she was on a jungle gym, spreading her legs apart, wide, up on her tippi toes.
As she paid for the tape, her body language, and expression on her face was one of accomplishment. Maybe she thought she'd showed me her good stuff? Maybe she thought-- after I say her rubbed thighs that it would be on, and we'd get down, fucking? I gave her the change, and asked her if she wanted a bag. She did, and she left somewhat fulfilled, I guess? As my eyes bled form the sight.
Years later, I would see her again. She'd walk-in saying she was a manager of a young female rapper-- who years before, I'd produced a song for. Another story for another time.
Snippet From The Book: "The BlkIce Chronicles Years, Vol. 1 -