House of Fine

When it came to partying, there was nothing like the infamous birthday bash with Hadez. The location was never the same and tonight he finally stayed in his city—ready to have a night drag out till he passed out. Literally.

The suite thumped with a deep bass, the kind that vibrated through the floor and settled low in your chest like a second pulse. Big Boogie's BOP flowed through the setting of the club out of every speaker lining the walls, waves rippling through asses with every hit of the beat belonged to many of the Fine girls.

Strobes of violets, reds, and blues sauntered throughout from the ceiling dancing alongside the shadows it casted over the moving figures. The air thick—sweet with perfume, sharp with cologne, and heavy with desire. Party decorations and balloons lined the ceilings, walls, and floors in variations of gold with different writings in relation to the birthday boy of the night.

Money tainted the air and kissed the floors while stray bills stuck to damp skin of women dressed down in nothing short of lingerie. Their skin glistening off the lights and diamonds that kissed their skin, the prettiest faces matched the thick thighs, fat asses, and full titties were in the building. The girls were drenched—wet curls clung to their necks, water traced the curves of their backside, and their soaked lingerie left nothing to imagination. Every sway of a hip, every drop down the pole, left foam flying and mouths watering.

Their hands wrapped around poles that gleamed under lights and edges of rails that dropped from foam shooting out in any direction to fill the room. A pair of six inch heels cut through thick clouds of foam that crept across the floor and licked at their bare legs as they made way towards the tall figure who sat at the center of attention for all. Surrounded by his women and his boys; Odell, Key, August, Stefon, Orion, and Xilinx. The birthday man sat in the center of it all, like a saint surrounded by sin.

Foam swirling around his feet, his shirt half unbuttoned, a crooked grin on his lips. His eyes were locked in on the bottle his hand was clutched around the neck of 1942 was being poured straight from it into the Slim's mouth. Moving it back towards him just an inch and watching it spill in between her breasts, he leaned forward and slurped it from the crease—his thick tongue cleaning every drop from it. Her hands cupped her breast together and let his face disappear in between them with a drunk laugh leaving her lips.

The music shifted to All Dat by Moneybagg Yo, his face retracted from Slim and soon as he turned his head to look over—his eyes caught the tall, curved figure closing in on him as she passed over her fellow sisters. Sinéad, Sinny was definitely pulling attention tonight in just her tattooed ,second skin like jumpsuit paired with just six inch red bottoms—the heel engraved in black writing that spelled out Hadez.