Life After Death

by Sister Souljah

  “I return you safely to your roomie,” he said, smiling. He grabbed my hand and turned to walk out. I was glad he did. Olga, who was seated on her bed in her silk nightie, with papers in her lap and expensive Cartier reading glasses on her eyes, needed to see him choosing me continuously.

  Walking hand in hand and talking softly to each other, we were like seasoned lovers, and I was sure, based on the events, that it had not been twenty-four hours yet of us first meeting one another.

  “Tiger,” he called me. I smiled, remembering. “A tiger in the convent?” he smiled and said as though it was a question not a statement. “Come to think of it, I could not imagine you or either of your friends as nuns.” He laughed.

  “Don’t get it twisted! I would never be no nun. Take an oath of poverty!” I cracked up at the thought of it. “Bullshit fashion, no jewelry or cosmetics!” I laughed again at how outrageous it was to me. “I mean, as you can see, I don’t wear cosmetics. I don’t have to. But why on earth would a bunch of butt-ugly broads not try and upgrade their look!” Then we both started laughing.

  “I love that you are so decided,” he said calmly. “A woman who knows who she is and what she wants. That’s badass to me,” he said, then stopped walking and backed me against the wall. He gave me a kiss on the lips. I opened my mouth, but, he didn’t come into it. I wanted tongue, a deep kiss. I had not been tongued down in more than fifteen years. For me, the kiss is the seal. The lust and the fucking comes easily. It’s a must. But somehow the deep tongue-on-tongue exchange is the most intimate for a woman.

  “Tell me more,” he said. His body pressed against mine. Mine pressed against the wall. He was massaging my butt. It felt good. However, I remembered what Succubus said about how, alive or dead, humans are forbidden by the ONE, who she calls the Tyrant, who he called Allah in his speech what seemed like only a couple of hours ago. I don’t believe in or care what the ONE aka the Tyrant aka Allah said or says. But I did care about the punishment of being turned into an animal for exceeding the rules and butt fucking. I still couldn’t figure out if it is the ONE turning us into animals for butt-fucking, or if it is the man who’s fucking me. Either way, solely for the protection of myself, the business I plan to set up, the fucking I want to be able to continue to do, my ass is off-limits, closed, an exit, not an entry.

  I squeezed my ass cheeks. Maybe it was an impulse. A way to express to him without words that I meant what I said when I told him no ass right before we romped in the shark space what seemed like a few minutes ago.

  “Relax,” he said. “I won’t deny you anything. But anything you deny me, I’ll supplement. Deal?”

  “Supplement?” I repeated.

  He smiled and pulled back a little, creating a slight space now between he and I. “Bargain elsewhere,” he said. “Because I know you want me to have all that I need, even if you are not the one to offer it to me.” I caught on. I was quietly moving the thoughts in my mind in a hurry. How much did I care if he gets it on with other women? I only just met him. He was a good time for sure. The business opportunity was most important. Maybe I should get what I want out of him business-wise and stop caring about anything else. Come on, Winter, I told myself. You know how to fuck without feelings. True, but could I knowingly share a man with another bitch even though I didn’t love that man? If I could, how would that affect my status, my access, and my fucking leverage and control over a nigga? If I let another bitch get an inch, she would try to take a yard. That’s basic instinct. When I was with Dat Nigga, I had to take a backseat while I was an animal. I couldn’t fuck him as a serpent. I couldn’t even do as much for him as he did for me when I was a dog. Ooh, a memory. He made me feel so hot and satisfied and loved as a dog. His long thick finger like a dick. The constant fingering and petting. Rubbing my underbelly. Me sleeping right next to him on his bed. Whew, my nipples were getting hard simply remembering.

  “That’s the first thing I saw on you. I hope you don’t mind,” he said, snapping me back into focus. Winter, you’re with this dude now, in his penthouse, amazed in his exciting maze.

  “What?” I asked lovingly.

  “These.” He pinched both of my nipples. “I saw these poking out of your tight coat. I thought, ‘What a bold beauty. She’s naked beneath her coat.’ I started imagining you nude. It was sexual first. I hope you don’t mind. I saw your most attractive eyes, nose, lips, and face secondly.” We fucked there on the wall. It was beastly, and when we were both satisfied, he had passion marks all over his body. My body felt raw, like the whole thing was one throbbing nerve. My pussy felt greedy, like it had to have more… soon. Even my nipples were pulsating. I wondered if his balls felt to him the way my nipples felt to me. I had given him the right blend of licks and sucks and heat and friction everywhere.

  23.

  An alarm went off. It pierced through my deep sleep. It seems I only slept soundly in this realm after a long night of thorough fucking. And last night or whatever time it was, I was completely and thoroughly and repeatedly fucked. I sat up. I wasn’t alarmed, even though the sound was annoying and overpowering. I feel safe here… with him… in his Light House. He was the commander in chief. That’s higher than the CEO, at least in my mind. But he was not beside me, as he was throughout the night. He must be out giving orders, protecting his property.

  I stretched my legs. I smelled my sheets before I stripped them off of me. They smelled like sex. I placed my pretty feet on the cold marble floor. The cold surged through my body, helping me to awaken even more. I walked over to his rack and pulled down one of my six new robes and nighties. I put one on before showering, only because of the ringing alarm. I walked to the door and pressed the button. The thin steel doors slid open. I don’t know which is more impressive: the secure powered soundproof doors, or the high-powered alarm that was able to cut through the sound-proofing enough to allow me to hear it, but now sounded ten times worse. I could here Pretty’s voice, Bridgette’s voice, and running feet.

  “I’m looking for y’all!” Pretty called out.

  “We are looking for you too,” Bridgette called out from elsewhere.

  “I’m right over here!” I yelled out. Then there was the sounds of running feet once again.

  “Stop moving,” Bridgette demanded. “Two of us have got to stop moving and one of us has to follow the sound of the voice.”

  “I’ll run to you. Say something and stay still right wherever you are now!” Some time passed before I heard Pretty and Bridgette celebrating because they had found one another. Their celebration was beneath the sound of the screech of the alarm.

  I plugged each of my ears with a finger to drown out the noise. I told myself not to close the steel doors until they showed up. I’m rhyming so they could follow the sound of my voice, even though I could not hear myself! “Throw your hands in the air. And wave ’em like you just don’t care. And if you’re feeling good and you love your hood, everybody say, oh yeah! And you don’t stop… Ain’t no party like a Brooklyn party and a Brooklyn party’s nonstop…”

  Pretty and Bridgette arrived gasping. Once they saw me they both put their hands over their ears. I pulled them inside and pressed the button so the door would seal and they could escape the deafening sound minus times ten.

  “Is there a fire?” I asked, my ears and their ears all unplugged and the alarm muted.

  “No, not a fire,” Bridgette said, calming down swiftly as though nothing had just occurred.

  Pretty still had a painful look on her face.

  Bridgette started wandering all around the space looking at everything like a detective.

  “This is the master apartment, a penthouse within the penthouse. So amazing. Oh, oh, oh bingo! I finally found it,” she said once she saw his wheeled rack of treats, weed, pills, cocaine, cigarettes, cigars, and bidis. Plus there were chocolates, caramels, gummy bears, Pixy Stix, and Now & Laters below. She opened her satchel and started grabbing from the top shelf.

  “Chill,” I told h
er. “Put it all back. I don’t want him to suspect me of stealing his shit. I’m trying to build up a trust. And as you can see, so far, the better my bond with him, the better it gets for you two. Besides, I am sure if you ask for it, he will give it to you easily.”

  “Okay, let’s put it all back,” she said as she began placing everything back in its slot. “Except let’s blow one pot stick together. Like you said, he won’t mind.” She was already holding one of his novelty lighters and lighting up.

  “Aren’t y’all worried about the alarm? It’s much better in here. But I can still hear that it’s on,” Pretty asked.

  “Here, this is some awesome pot. Have some. You won’t even hear the alarm. Even if you still hear it, you won’t even give a fuck,” Bridgette said. She was already buzzed. Pretty took a few pulls and I could see that it lessened her nervous feeling. “I’ve learned so much in a little bit of time.” Bridgette said it like whatever she had found out upgraded her status in our trio acquaintance. She wanted us to ask her and to need to know what she had discovered. She handed the joint to me. I took a pull.

  “The alarm, it’s about a security breach. His son—you know, the one who you vomited on outside of the nightclub—is attacking the Light House with a bunch of other dudes.”

  “That’s dumb,” I said, still toking. “How’s he going to win by attacking his own father who lives in a tower? He’s just gonna get humiliated like he did at the club. Then he’ll start apologizing like a little bitch.”

  “What does his son even want? You don’t want him. I don’t want him. So what the fuck?” Pretty asked me.

  “He’s scared. Scared people always come with a bunch of niggas to fight one man. That’s the only way they can possibly win,” I said.

  “No, but his father has got a whole army. He’s not just one man. So it should be a brutal fight to the finish,” Bridgette said, getting amped back up.

  I finally asked her, “How do you know he’s got an army? And how do you know it’s his son leading the attack against him?” I questioned in a “prove it” tone.

  “I saw it in the security room. Olga rushed through the crazy maze as soon as the alarm went off. She jumped out of bed and I followed her. There was a screen and she could view what was happening everywhere in this tower. She got right on a walkie-talkie and commanded the Yoo-nicks to mobilize. I thought this was an army of men who were stationed somewhere close to the tower. But then I heard first, and eventually saw, multiple men in black, up here sprinting through the maze to go put down the attack. They’re all living up here in one big area, dormitory style, one cot each.”

  “Or like jail,” I commented but really was just recalling jail before conviction and imprisonment.

  “Oh, this guy has everything that no one else at the Last Stop has got. And Olga seems to be his right-hand man. That’s one of the reasons I’m sticking close to her.” She laughed.

  “Not because she has pot sticks?” I asked, mocking her.

  “I wish! Olga doesn’t drink or smoke. Picture that,” Bridgette said.

  “So that’s why you were out last night searching the entire penthouse, for weed, but saying it was for something else,” I checkmated her. I knew when she rushed up on me and him in front of the shark room, she was out doing what crackheads do, fiending. I mean, me and Pretty smoke of course. But there’s a difference between us and fiends. Fiends behave in a certain desperate way. Back in Brooklyn, when certain crackheads had smoked up all their dollars and needed the next hit, they would wander around the streets looking all over the ground for anything to smoke that may have been dropped or partly used. One crackhead who was not looking where she was going, and was so desperate in her search, crashed right into a pole and busted her head.

  “Well, my eyes are always opened and seeing and looking. But it’s true that I was really worried about her last night,” Bridgette said, pointing out Pretty with her head. “You didn’t see her reaction when she saw a few snakes. And it’s not like they could bite her. They are stuck behind the glass in the wall.” Bridgette’s facial expression revealed that she was low-grade chumping Pretty.

  “You two obviously don’t know the story of creation. The serpent is the evil one that started all of this shit. Haven’t you ever heard of Adam and Eve, the first man and woman who God ever created? God gave them everything. He only asked both of them not to eat the fruit from the forbidden tree. The serpent is obviously a representation of evil. Why else would God give it no arms and no legs, forcing it to crawl around on its belly? It lives inside of holes deep in the earth, is cold-blooded and poisonous most of them,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “Well, the serpent came slithering and started speaking to Eve making hissing evil suggestions. Saying that God was really nobody important and that the fruit was there to be tasted. He kept hanging around her until she betrayed God and ate the forbidden fruit. And when she did, God punished her and Adam. Gave them knowledge they did not have before, and it caused them to be naked and feel vulnerable. Then Eve was given the task of having babies. After that, all women became the ones that must give birth. That’s why birth is taken as such a huge burden by us women. It seems like everyone gets really upset when we become pregnant, including us. And don’t you guys remember how many women were gathered at that UBS rally? Each of us who were seated there were mothers who killed our children. Some of the women there had killed two, three, six, seven, or more lives. I killed only one. I didn’t want to do it. My father forced me. But I should have been stronger. We are mothers who rejected the task of bearing the burden. And that goddamn serpent started it all,” Pretty said, and then she cried. Her tears caused me and Bridgette to go silent. Pretty seemed so sure of everything she was saying. Most of all, she seemed to have a lot of regrets.

  “You get the last of the blunt. It will make you feel better,” Bridgette told her. Then Bridgette remixed Pretty’s story. “It was that motherfucker Adam who started it all. He must have bossed Eve around saying that she was inferior to him. And he must have bored Eve to death. That was why she was out alone talking to a damned snake. Where was he? And what was he doing? There are always at least three sides to every story. Sometimes there’s like six or seven versions,” Bridgette said excitedly and it caused Pretty to laugh a little. “So what’s the deal about us knowing each other’s names? The two of you know mine. I don’t know yours,” Bridgette said.

  “She is called Brooklyn,” Pretty introduced me to Bridgette. “And I am named—”

  “Pretty,” I said, interrupting her. “I call her Pretty,” I said, introducing Pretty to Bridgette.

  Pretty leaped forward and hugged me tight. I was caught off guard. In all of my all-girl cliques, crews, and gangs we never hugged like that.

  “I think you are even more pretty, the prettiest,” Pretty said to me before easing up her squeeze.

  “You two keep leaving me out,” Bridgette said, and leaped over us both, gathering us into a hug huddle on his bed.

  “What’s going on?” The sound of the secure door opening caused us all to sit up to attention. Olga was standing there looking like a jealous lover.

  Bridgette jumped off the bed and ran over to her. “Nothing at all. Hey, the alarm is off. Is everything okay now?” she said and asked at the same time.

  “How did you get the door opened?” I asked Olga straight-faced.

  “I know all of the security codes in this tower for the sake of safety,” she said, and pointed to her head as though she had memorized each one.

  “What if something happens to you?” I said, like a veiled threat.

  “I guess nothing better happen to me,” she said.

  “We are all women here. Let’s not fight.” Bridgette jumped to Olga’s rescue unnecessarily. I just need to hammer into Olga’s head that I am here now. I am top bitch. I will make sure I get those codes from him that she thought belonged only to her. I am ready to get my business straight and solidify my status and position.

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nbsp; * * *

  “I want…” I told him much later when he returned. After I greeted him warmly and massaged him out of his war mood, I provided the list of things that could not be denied. “I want a business space here in the tower. I’d like to design fashionable clothing for everyone existing in the Last Stop Before the Drop. You’ll see. I’m talented. I’m profitable. Invest in me,” I said in my baby-doll voice, then put on my baby-doll look that I used to use on my father.

  “Is this the doll or the tiger speaking?” he asked me with a smile.

  “Both. The doll is the bait. The tiger is the moneymaker,” I answered. He was sitting between my thighs, his back pressed against me. I was softly rubbing his chest, stroking his few chest hairs. I lowered my hand down to his belly and then held his balls softly in my palm.

  “I’m a businessman for a very long time now. No one else negotiates with me this way,” he said. I squeezed them and slid my hand up and began a soothing hand job on his already at-attention thickness. He groaned. “You’re confusing me,” he said, straight-faced but in a playful tone. “I keep everybody and everything in…” He groaned pleasurably. I tightened my grip a little. “Separate categories,” he said, finishing his sentence. I cocked back my legs and stood behind him. Then I took one step over him, turned, squatted, and bent, then put my lips tightly on the head of his thickness. I did him better than a Blow Pop, a Bomb Pop, or a scoop of pralines-and-cream ice cream on a sugar cone. When he was fully satisfied, I was lying facedown between his legs. I placed my head by his balls, laid it gently on his thigh, and tilted to my side, so I could still convince him physically, if my words somehow didn’t win him over. But I could feel I was close to getting what I wanted.