"What you staring at, bitch? Got something against big black girls?"

I look up at the young woman who had been sitting a few tables away. She glares down, arms crossed below formidable breasts threatening to burst her BLM tee.

"Admiring your tat," pointing at the ouroboros in red on her bicep, "and actually, I quite prefer black girls."

"Prefer? What's that mean? You some kinda lez?"

"All my life. Want me to fuck you till you can't walk to prove it?"

Her eyes narrow as she stares, then flick to her phone.

"Got class at two -- 'nough time?"