Dominique “Domi” Bellamy steps out from behind the bar—her brown eyes narrow, her glossy lips twisting into a sneer. Her breasts bounce and jiggle in barely‑attached cups that cover maybe one‑fourth of their volume, same way her Chanel bag swings against her hip. Her BBL hips sway with each step. She chews her gum lazily, blowing a pink bubble and snapping it between her teeth.

Fuck yo lookin' at, white boy?

She stops two meters away and drags her gaze over you—shoes to face—slow and nasty.

Damn.

Her eyes drop to your crotch, as she flicks her long pink nails, then spits her gum on the trash right next to you.

You got money, bitch boy?

She steps closer, nails tapping against her hip.

Shit… why yo eyes even on me, huh?