“I’m sure. I actually need to go to the restroom,” she said, pushing away from the table and standing up.
“Wait!” Najee said, his voice firm. Orielle squinted as he looked around for their waiter. Thankfully, he wasn’t too far away. “Aye, my man,” he called out, waving him over.
A man with black dress pants and a white-collar shirt rushed over. “Yes? What can I get for you?”
“My lady needs to go to the restroom, but the ones in the main area are out of service, right?” Najee asked.
The waiter looked confused, as if it were his first time hearing the news, because it was. To his knowledge, they were working just fine.
A voice went off in the earpiece he was wearing, and he swallowed hard before stammering, “Um. Yeah. I just got the word that they are down. But you can follow me to the manager’s restroom.”
Hesitantly, Orielle looked at Najee, and before she could say anything, he said, “Come on. Show us where it is.”
“Right this way.”
“While we’re gone, gon’ head and bring me out that key lime pie special,” Najee told him.
“Sure thing. I’ll have it right out,” he said, and led the way to the office.
Smiling, Orielle linked her hand in his. When they made it to the office, Najee flipped on the light switch to the restroom and checked to see if it was clean and that there wasn’t anything fishy inside before urging her with a head nod to go ahead. Orielle looked over her shoulder when he stepped behind her.
“You’re coming in with me?” she asked.
“Now it’s a problem. Didn’t I just hold your hand this morning?”
She rolled her eyes and walked in. Closing the door behind him, Najee leaned against it and watched as she struggled to lift her dress over her hips.
“Thick ass,” he said, grinning.
Tugging her thong down, Orielle squatted and sighed with content as she released her bladder. “Shut up. My hips are spreading because you keep sliding that thing in me.”
“I thought you liked it when I did that. Tsk, tsk. You’ve been lying this whole time.”
Orielle grinned as she wiped and tossed the tissue into the bowl. It flushed automatically seconds later, as she situated herself and went to the sink. Najee pushed away from the door and came to stand behind her in the mirror.
“Don’t start anything in here, sir,” Orielle warned as his arms circled her waist.
He grinned and kissed her neck while massaging her titties. “I’m not. I’m just admiring you. I’m proud of you.”
Orielle smiled. “Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you, too.”
“We look good as fuck together,” he said, humping her.
Giggling, Orielle agreed. “Mhm. We do. Let’s take a picture.”
Najee pulled his phone out and went to the camera app. Instead of taking pictures, he decided to record a video. Orielle finished drying her hands and applied lotion before glossing her lips.
“Aye. Tell the people who you are,” Najee said, smirking with the camera flipped so it was on both of them.
Orielle leaned into his chest, feeling so shy all of a sudden. “What people? Who is this for?”
“I was just saying that. It’s for me,” he said.
As if he didn’t have enough videos of her doing everything from singing to eating, to dancing, to slobbering on his chest, and even ones of her when she was head deep into one of her journals, writing music. The more the merrier, he believed.
“Oh. Okay. Well, hey Najee. My name is Orielle. The world knows me as Rielle Summers, the singer, songwriter, and lover girl. But you call me your Pretty Girl.”
“And RiRi,” Najee added.
