Free Watch Out for the Big Girls by J.M. Benjamin

they could’ve and should’ve done. But they were used to Prime using intellect over emotions and more stealth and strategy than public outbursts and unnecessary gunplay.
    As the last man left, the woman in the red dress was more than relieved. She grabbed a hold of Prime’s hand as if she had known him forever. Due to the fact that he respected her fearlessness, he embraced her.
    Although C-Class and Prince knew that Prime had done the right thing by trying to defuse the situation, they still wanted revenge. They had never been publicly challenged in such a way. The beef was on.
    As Prime and the woman stepped outside the club, she looked at the rest of his crew. She was disappointed that the night he had promised her had turned into a blown one. Better luck next time, she thought. She reached into her purse and handed him a card with her number on it.
    Prime gently pushed it away. “I’ll get it from you in the morning,” he declared with a smile.
    She blushed, knowing it was an indirect invitation for her to spend the night with him. Within minutes, she was in the passenger seat of Prime’s pearl white Aston Vanquish. He was outside talking to C-Class about what the next move should be. She had just ended her text and was powdering her nose when Prime hopped in the driver seat of his Aston.
    The bartender couldn’t believe the close call that she had previously witnessed. She nervously wondered how the rest of the night would play out. As she stood behind the bar, wiping it down, preparing to get off work, her hip vibrated. It had to be the call she was waiting for. She cautiously looked both ways before unclipping her phone and opening it up. She anxiously read the text that came through. It was from the phone that she had given Monica earlier when she first entered the bar and ordered the secret code drink.
    The bartender sighed from relief as she forwarded the text message to Starr.

Chapter Seven
    Meanwhile, less than a quarter of a mile up the street, Club Panties was jumping. Beautiful women spilled in and out nonstop. While they were enjoying themselves, below them more important things were taking place; the members of the Double Gs held their monthly meeting in the secret sublevel, in what was called the Ovary Office. This was the office that usually only the four of them were privy to. It was located one floor up from the general Double G meeting room. Starr was the only one standing. The rest of the Double Gs were all sitting. Tonight was different from the random and regular meetings they had. This was the meeting where all members reported monthly earnings, progress on any missions, introduction of any new Double Gs and whatever else Starr wanted to discuss. It was a mandatory requirement of Starr’s for them all to wear their club’s colors during monthly meetings. Each vest possessed a number on it that represented when they had become a Double G. Some of the vests also displayed unique patches that acknowledged skills such as sharpshooting or represented bravery. Starr ran the operation like a military camp by using ranking and special skills. It was a way of instilling discipline, responsibility, structure, and pride within her comrades.
    Looking at Starr, you couldn’t tell that she was in her early thirties, nor would you think she was as ruthless as she had proven to be in the past. Her soft-spoken voice and appearance made her seem somewhat timid, but that was far from being the case. Starr was a beautiful beast at five foot eleven and 220 pounds. She had a light caramel complexion, with long jet-black silky hair that dangled down to the middle of her back. She had deep, chinky eyes, with long lashes. Her eyebrows looked as if they were drawn on with a pencil. At a young age, she was aware of her big-boned physique. She learned the power of the female body early and worked vigorously on her full figure to get it where it was today. Over the years it had paid