Understanding

Mo kissed Jenny hard, his hands all over the bartender's ass. She was thick down there now, a round rump that demanded a molesting.

"Shhh," Jenny said. "They are light sleepers."

Mo quieted down as they entered Jenny's home. It was quaint and warm, though it wasn't exactly homey. He looked on the wall. Photos of her with an older man who looked Afghani. And kids that didn't have enough melanin to be half-Black. The fuck?

"You said you'd be understanding," Jenny whispered, her eyes flashing at Mo. "That ... was Ahmad. He was an Afghani rug shop owner once ... until my brother committed a hate crime that killed his family and maimed him. So I was a blood price. And I gave him the heirs my brother took away. He's passed now, hence why I took you up on your offer. Now the question is ... can you be understanding?"