A black man.

..."okay, #8, Tyrone Houston, from Atlanta, Georgia."

A black man from the center of the couch stands up and in a hip-hop way, walks as his sagging pants sag below his waist. His flashy shirt of a gangster smoking a blunt and his spinning medallion on a diamond encrusted chain grabs my attention. He walks up to me, wraps his arm around my lower back, minding to grab a little ass along the way, and escorts me to my seat. He seats himself, and I willing play the part, bending over and slowly, and seductively showing off my ass, before I sit on his lap. Once on his lap I wrap my arm around his shoulders and feel his warmth upon my body.

"Now all of you who didn't get their number called will have a chance next time. But you will have to leave the house for the day."

The mass of the group leaves out the door in a timely manner. Once the main group has left, the selected men and the rest of the girl and me stay, as well as Ralph and my mother. My mother walks in front of the selected group and finishes with, "Okay, we'll see you tomorrow," and she and Ralph walk out the door as well.

Now all alone with the other girls and their selected gentlemen, whispering into ear other each begins and the girls lead their men into various parts of the house. I watch as Michelle disappear back into the kitchen/family room area, Racquel, upstairs to the lounge area, and Jen, to one of the lower bedrooms. My observing is then interrupt by Tyrone, who takes his hand places it under my chin and guides my head to look at him.

"So where are we gonna do this honey?" he asks.

Coyishly, I say, "I dunno."