Sammy leans forward in his throne and fixates on Mama. I see Em’rald weasel her way through the throng of yelling men, looking back only once as she steps into the house. She doesn’t wear an expression of anything more than slight worry that someone might know what she’s up to. I know exactly where she’s going. But it’s hard for me to pay attention when my mother has the top of the cake in her hand now and is bearing it on a silver platter over to Sweet Sammy. Mama spins around with it before bending over at the waist right in front of him. She takes a scoop of frosting and does unmentionable deeds with it. The guys are going crazy, but they haven’t seen the best of it yet. Pretty soon she’s got the icing all over her fingers and is licking them suggestively. Someone carries over a chair. She sits down in it and provides the full view of everything she’s been using to amuse rock stars for decades. Even the Porn Sluts are intimidated. That’s saying something.
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