Smoothen Silky

by Derek Slaton

  “Silky don’t make no promises,” Silky piped up as he dialed a phone number, leaning back against the bar casually. He was the pinnacle of relaxation, and Rose entertained the idea for a split second of kicking the bar stool out from under him.

  “I understand,” the Boss nodded, killing the moment for her. Silky did as Silky did, and she didn’t have to work with him if she didn’t want to. Regardless of his over the top ways, she did enjoy his company.

  He definitely kept things interesting.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” the Boss added, “I’m sending out a new recruit. His name is Kerr. Silky, I need you to break him in.”

  “Oh,” Rose replied with a chuckle, “don’t worry, he’ll break him in alright.”

  “I’m sure he will,” the Boss said with a firm nod. “Report back to me when you have more intel.”

  “Will do, Boss-man.” Silky waved and then started yammering into his phone at one of his hos. Rose gave the Boss a salute and ended the call, slipping her phone back against her thigh.

  She stood up, shooting the last of her drink, and pulled out the bills she’d scooped from Moses earlier in the night. She tossed them on the counter as Silky finished his call, following her lead and getting up from the bar stool.

  “Thanks, barkeep,” Silky said with his signature grin, and offered Rose his fuzzy arm to escort her to the door. Using his golf club as a cane, he swaggered them to the front door as the bartender looked on in bewilderment.

  When they reached the door, Silky opened it and gave Rose an exaggerated bow. She chuckled and gave a fake curtsy, rolling her eyes out of habit but secretly finding the gentlemanly gesture endearing.

  “Who are you?” The bartender called just before they stepped out into the night.

  Silky reached into his coat, revealing a pair of massive sunglasses with sparkly bling all along the rims.

  “Smoothen Silky,” he purred, sliding the glasses onto his face with unimaginable grace. “Demon fighting pimp.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What the shit is this?” Silky spat as he turned his metallic purple El Dorado into what could only be described as Suburbia Hell. “Silky ain’t stayin’ at a place like this.”

  The sun was shining happily as if they hadn’t been covering a bar in demon goo the night before. Every house looked cheerful, bright, and exactly the same. Rack ‘em, stack ‘em, and pack ‘em.

  “Come on, it’s not that bad.” Rose replied, motioning for him to pull over in front of a modest house. “At least there’s no white picket fence.”

  “You ain’t helpin’ any,” he muttered as he accelerated up the driveway, pulling up the parking brake with more force than necessary. “Sides, Silky thought we’s supposed to be at the coast? Silky don’t see no fuckin’ beach.”

  “Of course, the Agency is skimping on resources.” She shrugged as she exited the car, her long legs bare in the tropical heat. She’d opted for a simple sundress and flip flops that day, not wanting to draw any attention with full on Agency garb.

  Though Silky drew attention wherever he went, especially with that car. But there was no toning down Silky, and she did feel nice and cozy in the lavender shag interior. It was definitely built for comfort.

  “We’re about a mile inland,” she told him, retrieving her backpack from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. “You’re not really dressed for the beach, anyway.”

  “Silky’s dressed for every occasion, baby,” he flipped open his powder blue coat and put a hand on his hip as he exited the car, taking a beat to pose with his trusty club.

  When he decided that the proper amount of time had lapsed for Rose to admire his majestic getup, he relaxed and took in the front of the house again.

  “Goddamn cheapass honkies,” he sneered, and she turned away from him, stomping up the front walk.

  “Oh, quit your bitching,” she retorted, “you never know, it could be nice inside.”

  She opened the door and appraised the shiny hardwood floor. She strutted into the living room and ran a hand along the cream colored couch, admiring the simple decor and minimalist furniture. It was contemporary, like something out of an Ikea catalogue, but not unpleasant.

  “Awwwww, hell no,” Silky drawled as soon as he stepped over the threshold, waving a hand in the air like a lunatic. “Silky ain’t livin’ with this shit.”

  “What?” Rose crossed her arms as he turned right back around and went back through the door. “Wait! Where are you going?” She ran to the doorframe and peered out at him, noting that he wasn’t getting back in the driver’s seat to leave.

  He strutted up to the trunk, and opened it, inclining a little bow of his head.

  “You hos ready to do some work for ole Silky?” He asked, stepping back, and Rose’s eyes near popped out of her head as he helped a blonde woman step out of the back of the El Dorado.

  “What do you need, baby?” The woman asked, straightening her black miniskirt and adjusting the red and white polka dot halter top that just barely reached the underside of her breasts.

  “Silky wants you hos to clean this place up.” He motioned to the house, and then extended his hand to help a second woman step out. She had chocolate brown hair in high pigtails, and wore a bright pink babydoll dress over bubblegum heels.

  “What is this, Felix’s magic ho bag?” Rose muttered as she saw a third woman spring onto the sidewalk. This one had hair as black as ebony, and was clad in denim Daisy Duke’s with a blue and white plaid bikini top that just barely covered nipple.

  Rose felt like she was looking at Charlie’s Sluts, and she crossed her arms at the fact that the pimp kept one of each hair color in his trunk at all times. Of course there was no redhead, and she narrowed her eyes at the thought that she was the redhead. A perfect set.

  “Pimpify it, babes!” Silky spread his arms, leaning back and wildly waving the golf club at the house. As the women hopped to, he slapped one with the short shorts on her toned ass and she squeaked out a giggle. “Oh yeah, that’s right,” he appraised the reverberation of her globes under his hand.

  Rose jumped out of the way of the three hos bustling through the door, a flurry of tanned skin and impossibly high heels.

  “What the fuck is this?” She demanded, stomping back down the walkway towards her partner. “You had hos in the fucking trunk this whole time?”

  “Aw, settle down, baby,” he held up a hand to stop her. “Silky’s gotta have his hos on the road with him. Gotta keep the income flowin’. And these ain’t just run ‘o the mill hos. Trixie, Mixie and Dixie are Silky’s prize bitches.”

  “Unbelievable.” Rose pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Hey, don’t get too mad at ole Silky, now,” he reached into the blankets the women had been laying on and rummaged around. “I gave them some toys for the trip, they was entertained.” He produced a neon pink vibrator and Rose scoffed, slapping it out of his hand.

  “Really?!” She slammed the trunk shut, nearly severing his hand, and he shot her a thousand watt grin.

  “Them hos is makin’ themselves useful,” he said as the sunlight glinted off his golden grill, and started back up towards the house. “Right now they’s fixin’ up the place for ole Silky here.”

  When they entered the living room again, Rose stopped dead. There were leopard print covers on the couches, lava lamps lighting the dim space with the curtains drawn, and a massive painting of a pimp in black velvet hanging over the fireplace.

  “Where… how…?” Rose stammered, and then shook her head. They must have had this stuff stashed in the house somewhere. Or they’d gone back out to the trunk? The more she thought about it, the more her head started to hurt.

  “Now this is what Silky’s talkin’ about.” He gave a little wiggle of his hips in excitement.

  “These hos work fast, I’ll give them that,” Rose said, putting a hand to her forehead.

  “Silky’s got ‘em trained right,” he said, licking his lips at the three women
on the couch. They were celebrating their quick and efficient job with some very close cuddling. “The slower they work the less money Silky gets.”

  “I’m going to get things set up in the office,” Rose turned away from the tangle of limbs and lips in the pimpin’ living room. “I’ll call for you when I’m up and running.”

  The blonde ho extended her arm and curled her finger up in a come-hither motion.

  “You do that,” Silky says, a spring in his step as he jaunts into the living room. “Silky can find something to occupy himself in the meantime.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The humidity was soul crushing that day, especially for someone not used to it. The confident young man that strutted up the sidewalk in east coast suburbia felt like he was breathing soup. He hoped the house had air conditioning.

  He stopped short at the pimpmobile in the driveway, and had to double check his phone to make sure he had the right house. The car was the most conspicuous thing he’d ever seen. He stepped up onto the porch and set his suitcase to the side, straightening his shirt.

  He rapped on the door firmly, straightening his spine. This was the first day of field work, and he wanted to make a good impression. Nobody answered, and he knocked again, leaning to the side to peer in the window.

  There was a creak as the door opened.

  “Hey, I’m Kerr, I was sent…” he began, and then his jaw to hit the floor when he turned to face a scantily clad blonde bombshell. “Here… by the… wow.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” The woman giggled, shifting her weight so that her perfectly curvy hip jutted out enough for her to rest a soft hand on it.

  “I can imagine,” Kerr said, composing himself. He tried desperately not to look her up and down, but her tits were magnetic, and practically bursting out of her tiny red halter. “A woman as beautiful as you, I’m sure that you have guys lined up around the block to be with you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth as he quickly raised his eyes to her face.

  He had to be professional. This couldn’t be an agent, for sure, with her plump painted lips and colorful eyeshadow. He swallowed hard, forcing down the awkwardness at being so attracted to her.

  “I did that once, but it hurt a lot,” she said, putting a finger to her chin in thought. “I think you can still order that movie though, if you can find the right website.”

  Kerr blinked at her, an image flitting through his head of this sultry siren being plowed by a bunch of guys at once, and then physically shook himself back to reality.

  Professional.

  “Oh,” he stammered. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah, that was my biggest seller,” she said, poofy curls bobbing on top of her head as she nodded enthusiastically. “Or, wait, was is the one I did with Big Jim and Truck Turner?”

  “Okay, moving on,” Kerr said, trying to steer the conversation in a less porn related direction. “The Agency sent me. I’m supposed to meet with a Smoothen Silky?”

  The woman looked him up and down, appraising him a little more in depth after hearing where he was from. He was dressed business casual, beige slacks and a white button down shirt.

  Suddenly a soft looking pastel blue sleeve snaked around her and pushed her behind the door. Kerr blinked a few times at the tall guy that looked like he’d just walked out of a pimp convention. But there couldn’t possibly be anyone else more deserving of a name like ‘Smoothen Silky’.

  “You must be-” he started, but the pimp stood in the doorway defiantly and cut him off.

  “Twenty dollas!” Silky yelled, squaring his shoulders.

  “Excuse me?” Kerr stood up to his full height as well, though he was more than a little intimidated. He was just over six feet tall, and not used to having to look up at anyone. But this guy was a beast. He had to be at least half a foot taller than the new field agent.

  “Silky said twenty fuckin’ dollas!” The pimp tore his ridiculously huge sunglasses from his face, the glittering of gems on the sides nearly blinding.

  “Uh, you need to borrow twenty dollars?” The recruit scratched the back of his head nervously.

  His face suddenly stung like a bitch, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the pimp had backhanded him clean across the face.

  “Muthafuckin’ dumbass honky.” Silky leaned down so that his nose was a hair’s breadth away from the guy on the doorstep. “You owe Silky twenty dollas.”

  “Owe him… err… you… twenty dollars?” Kerr stammered, a flush creeping up his face from the slap. It was more humiliation than pain, and he wasn’t sure if he was as excited for this job as he’d initially been. “For what?”

  “You’s been takin’ up his ho’s time,” Silky said, his voice menacing, but somehow still smooth as chocolate.

  “What? Her?” The recruit motioned to the woman who was now peeking out from the living room along with two other sets of eyes. “She just answered the door.”

  “And you took up her fuckin’ time,” Silky replied, at this point exasperated that this moron wasn’t getting it. “Her time is worth twenty dollas.”

  “But…”

  “Silky knows ya don’t want to be takin’ food outta Silky’s mouth, now do ya?” His voice lowered an octave, and Kerr swallowed hard.

  “No,” he replied thickly. “No, Sir.”

  “Now look,” the pimp suddenly leaned back against the doorframe casually, checking his perfect nails as if he hadn’t just been threatening as all hell. “Silky ain’t one to judge what another man is into. Some wanna tap that ass, some wanna yodel in the fuckin’ valley, and some just wanna chit-chat. Silky’s down with it, he’s cool as a fuckin’ cucumber.” He slid his hand through the air to indicate how level he really was about the whole thing, and Kerr found himself nodding, even though he was still a bit lost. “Now, do you know what those three got in common?” Silky raised an eyebrow, pulling his sunglasses a little ways down his nose.

  “Um,” the recruit swallowed again. “No, Sir.”

  The pimp grinned. “They all paid Silky twenty dollas.”

  At the sight of the golden teeth spelling SILKY, Kerr blinked a few times and realized that he wasn’t going to win this one.

  “Um. Okay.” He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He held out a twenty dollar bill, and Silky snatched it out of his hand, running it under his nose like a cigar.

  “Silky appreciates your fuckin’ business.” He bowed his head slightly, and then slammed the door.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Kerr muttered to himself, momentarily stunned by the interaction. If this was par for the course field work, his job was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.

  He knocked on the door again, squaring his shoulders to try to show he wasn’t intimidated. Silky threw open the door.

  “Whaddya want, cracka?” He barked. “Ya got another twenty?”

  “No, Mr. Silky, Sir,” Kerr innately winced at how awkward he sounded, but shoved away his embarrassment. “I was sent by the Agency. I’m Kerr, your new recruit.” He raised his chin, and Silky pulled his sunglasses clean off of his face.

  “They sent Silky your dumb blondie-blue-eyed country bumpkin ass?” His tone dripped with incredulity, eyes condescending. “Goddamn Silky’s gettin’ too old for this shit.” He sighed at the determined gaze on Kerr’s face. “All right, grab your shit and come on.”

  The recruit let out a breath of relief, and grasped his suitcase quickly, rolling it behind him as he followed the baby blue clad pimp inside.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kerr’s eyes darted all over the living room, noting the decor that was vastly different from every other room of the house. He set his suitcase next to the couch, trying to ignore the two women snuggling up to the woman who’d answered the door. They seemed very friendly.

  “What the fuck you think you’s doin, cracka?” Silky snapped.

  “Um,” Kerr said, and took a deep breath. He really needed to work on not sounding like an id
iot every time his superior asked him a question. “Just putting my stuff down?”

  “Ah, Silky gets it,” the pimp replaced his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose despite the dimness of the room, and cocked his head. “You think you’s just gonna come on up in a brotha’s house and throw your shit down? That it, honky?”

  “No, Sir, I’m sorry I just-”

  “Just what?” Silky barked. “Just what, cracka?”

  “I’m sorry.” Kerr shrugged, and grasped his suitcase so that it was clean off the floor, not even on its wheels anymore.

  “You’s sorry?” Silky cupped a hand around his ear and waited. “That all you got to say for yoself?” He snatched up a golf club that had been leaning up against the wall, and Kerr took an involuntary step back. “Honky, you best keep yo shit up off the floor before Silky shoves these loafers so far up yo ass you’s gonna be spittin’ pennies.”