Wedding Day Massacre

With a pair of oversized headphones half-draped over his head, DJ Buttaz scratched the record. He was playing Biz Markie’s sure bet to get white folks turnt the fuck up—Just A Friend. The party was at a simmer so he was just having some fun and trying to keep himself entertained more than anything.

Ever since he was a kid, all he’d ever wanted to do was listen to music. While he didn’t make a fat paycheck putting out a playlist to the masses and dropping a few tune-based puns on the mic, it was the only thing that made him tick. Feeling his fingers touch the colorful texture of the harmonies that brought life to the crowd gave him a rush.

There was a certain level of power and control that came with each gig. While the duty wasn’t raking in crazy dollars, it did come with a few other benefits. Ones that if you have the right type of swagger, any hot-blooded man would be glad to capitalize on. Ones that became an addiction and had bound DJ Buttaz into the flashy drug-laced neon nightlife indefinitely. He couldn’t kick the ritual now even if he wanted to.

He looked around the room of joyful people feasting and enjoying both their adult drinks and catch-up conversations. There were too many sexy chicks in the room for him to count. They were all strutting around, dolled up to the max. He was sure to score a few numbers and add some entries for his little black book.

The problem was, no matter how rounded their curves were, how model caliber their hair glistened, or how enticing their bright smiles shined, they couldn’t pull his attention away from the stunning centerpiece of the wedding.

DJ Buttaz looked over at Sebastian organizing gifts near the stage. Then he quickly shifted his attention to his woman, who he needed a drool cup to be around. Taylor’s enchanting brown eyes keyed in on him and a lustful leer solidified his expression.

Every time he’d seen Taylor at the clubs in the past, she was the baddest bitch in the room, but today she was just on another level. From head to toe, he wanted to lick every tiny inch of her body.

Taylor was a total party girl, and for undivine reasons, their paths seemed to cross everywhere downtown. From Club Hell to Therapy and even the nastier no-entry-fee joints like Barry’s Dancefloor.

They’d screwed each other like wild animals nearly everywhere. All it took was a few purple pills and half a dozen stiff drinks. They both snapped into the same sensual mode. Their countless memorable hook-ups were some of his fondest memories.

DJ Buttaz was not a slouch with the ladies but even he felt a little special being able to tag a broad like Taylor. Considering that she was an absolute dime, he found it strange how easy she was. Either way, he sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

The elongated white heels echoed against the dancefloor as she made her way over to the horny disc jockey that had left her drenched on so many prior occasions.

“You having fun yet?” Taylor asked, biting her perfectly manicured French nails.

“You know it, sexy, although, I could think of a few things that might be a little more fun than spinning wax… if you know what I mean.” A cheesy grin manifested on his grill.

“Well, you might have to wait a week or two, I’ve got the whole honeymoon thing… but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. You always seem to be in the right place at the right time,” she said with a wink.

He watched her voluptuous ass flex with each step she took back toward her husband. Part of him was a little sullen by the thought that he’d have to wait before he got inside it again. But he also knew that great things came to those with patience.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he bitched to himself.