by Renta
Winslet turned her gaze to me. “Which explains how you two seem so chummy.”
I shrugged, “Hey, he’s been around.” I laughed as her face became flushed.
That’s what she gets for throwing her experience around. So, what do you have for me, Detective? I inquired as I recalled the way she approached.
As if, she was just remembering a smile crept onto her lips. She pulled a small notepad out of her back pocket and opened it to the section she desired, but before she spoke, her eyes went from me back to Adams. This reminded me of the disappointment I owed the young man. “Adams, from this moment on. This case is of federal importance. The victim is under the scope by the bureau, we can’t have D.P.D interfering with our investigation. So, if you’d be so kind, would you please excuse me and my partner? We have things to discuss—privately. The modern-day Alex Cross and John Sampson—remember?”
The officer grinned, then asked, “What do I tell the Captain, when he asks why me and the boys pulled out of the investigation?”
As if on cue, a brown Crown Vic pulled up and out stepped two plain-clothed men. You could tell who they were before the tallest of the two flashed his I.D.
“F.B.I, I’m Agent Crawford and this is my partner, James O'Malley.” He then turned his eyes to me. “Detective Hunter, you mind briefing us on the situation with our boy?”
“Not at all, Crawford.” I then turned to Adams. “Tell the Captain, we’ll be in touch.
Chapter Eight
What Else I Gotta Do!
“Give me that honey looove/there’s something in your eyes, baby,/it’s telling me that you want me baby/tonight is your night/and you don’t have to ask for nothing/I’ll give you everything you need/so giiirrl don’t be shy/ooooh, child/baby come inside/oooh/turn down the lights, there is something that I want from you/Right noooow/Give me that honey loooove/that sweet, sweet love—"
R. Kelly crooned from the surround sound echoing from the club’s high-tech stereo system. The thick diva commanding the stage had the entire club hypnotized. The lights were completely off. The strobe light that danced across the stage was the only illumination used for her act. Glitter saturated her flawless skin, a pair of glow in the dark, cat-like contacts shined from under her long lashes. I was completely naked except for my glow in the dark G-string.
The clear six-inch stilettos I wore made my ass cheeks poke out further than they already were. But, it was the ten-foot Albino Boa constrictor, I danced with that made my act Class A material. There is nothing more seductive than a bad bitch with a tropical snake. It all exuded from my eroticism. Erotically I danced with the music, as dollar bills rained down on me from every angle. Yet, I was oblivious to the downpour.
Like a lioness, I stalked my prey. As my green eyes landed on the entrée of my desires. I rolled my belly like a professional belly dancer. All the way down I rolled and swayed until I was on my knees in this same position. Then I crawled over to my delicacy. He was seated at the far end of the stage. Diamonds glistened from his neck, ears, wrists, and mouth.
Gossip amongst the strippers was that he was a true bred from New York with a lot of loot to fuck up. Like a goddess, I positioned myself directly in front of him. Our eyes met through the darkness the boa gently constricted, as it crawled outward towards the man of the hour.
Unfazed by the serpent he never took his eyes away from mine. As I switched positions I placed my pedicured feet on each side of the stage, with my legs spread, as I sat my juicy pussy in the out-of-towner’s face. Even through the darkness, he was able to see the wetness glistening from my partially exposed feminine lips.
‘Let’s go to the mall baby/I’ll pick you up around three/don’t you worry about a thaang.’ R. Kelly continued serenading the atmosphere.
As if, the snake knew what to do it slithered down my belly making its descent to my garden of Eden. As if we were the only two present, I allowed my hands to fondle my C-cup breasts. I passed my navel and the head of the boa hovered slightly above my treasure. Its tongue tasted the sweaty air, as its red eyes studied its surroundings.
Anticipation thickened the air, as I used my right index finger to travel down my thighs until it landed upon my engorged clitoris. I massaged it gently moaning in self-pleasure. Four minutes before the end of my act, I decided to take it to the next level. The snake slid his head under my G-string as I pulled the thin material to the side exposing my freshly waxed pussy. The snake tasted my ecstasy, as a long moan escaped from my lips, and cum shot from my essence. Without warning my nectar splashed against his lips.
Once the song ended I righted myself and crawled over to the New Yorker.
I used my fingers and smeared cum over his lips before saying, “Meet me at the exit in fifteen minutes.” Quickly, but with flair, I made my departure.
***
~Six~
As I walked into the dressing room after my set. The life of what I yearn to escape hit me straight in the face. First came the now familiar smell of sweat and a hundred different perfumes. Then all eyes focused on me. I could feel jealousy all around me.
‘These hoes are so lame. Ever since I started at this bitch ass club these hoes been hating on me.’ I thought.
As I walked over to my station, my eyes landed on the dingy bitch that had her sweaty ass cheeks in my chair.
“Isis, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, tonight. So, please just get out of my seat.”
The bitch gave me a look like I was bothering her, then turned her attention back to Honey. The girl stationed next to me. “As I was saying, girl, before I was rudely interrupted by this nobody—” she began but that is as far as she made it before my tolerance ran out.
Straight to her eye is where my fist landed. But, it was the hook I sent to her temple, that made the bitch get some sense and guard her grill.
“Bitch, I said get out of my seat!” No time to waste, I reached over, grabbed a fist full of the hussie’s weave, and drug her airheaded ass out of my chair. I guess she had no other choice, but to begin swinging wildly.
So, with my free hand, I went to work on that ass. My uppercuts slowed her ass down real fast. I thought the bitch was getting tired and truthfully, I was too. I released the hoe’s fake ass hair and landed one more blow before she could raise her head all of the way up. That will show a bitch that a true Dallas bitch is real about her shit.
Then, ‘Baam!’ The bitch swung a wild, ugly hay-maker dazing me. Then the hoe charged me, that move wasn’t one she should’ve made. Our impact drove us into the vanity behind me. The Mexican girl, that was standing there had to rush out of the way to avoid getting run over.
“Aagghhh,” I groaned as my back crashed into the mirror shattering the glass.
Jagged pieces rained down on us. Luckily it didn’t cut us until I snatched up a nice size piece and slashed the bitch across her fugly face. She screamed and grabbed her wound. Blood poured from her face like a faucet. She began screaming hysterically. I commenced to putting my foot in her ass. Out of my peripheral, I saw the intentions of ‘Wet-Wet’ another dancer I didn’t much care for.
Her and Isis are road dawgs, so I knew she was fucked up about the ass whooping I was giving her. But, right as I was about to give her, her chance.
My best friend, Mi’Shay stepped up to the plate. “Bitch, if you try anything other than standing still. I’m going to beat that ass.”
Everybody knew Mi’Shay meant every word. Bitches around here feared her, she was known inside and outside of the club for beating a bitch. Finally, Isis fell to the ground, then another problem occurred. The door to the dressing room flew open. Bull and Gucci stepped in, Bull was one of the many bouncers that ran security, but Gucci was the owner.
He stood with a toothpick hanging from his mouth. Gucci looked from me, then to Isis who was still on the ground moaning and holding her face. Then he turned his eye to the destruction left behind from our mayhem.
In his deep southern drawl he said. “Now, I’m not
concerned about how much it’ll cost to fix Isis’s face. Hell, I’m not even concerned about why the fuck you bitches have problems. What I am concerned about is which one of you hoes, is going to pay me for the mirror y’all broke? Y’all clean this shit up and before you leave. Six, find your way to my office and stop bleeding all over my damn floor.” He turned and walked out.
Bull stared at all of the bare titties like he’d never seen them before. He winked at me, then turned and followed Gucci’s departure.
I looked down at my bleeding hand, I must’ve cut it when I grabbed the jagged piece of glass.
Before heading to the shower, I spit on Isis’s bitch ass. “Stupid, bitch—all this over a fuckin chair.”
***
~ Destiny~
I stood over a sedated, Nutz. His slow breathing made it seem as if he was at home in his own bed, rather than laid up heavily drugged in a hospital room. What happened to land him in his current predicament still had me quite curious, even shook. My mind wondered what this man did for a living. What all was he into? Outside of kidnapping and trying to seduce his captives. I’m sure he’s a major player in the streets.
The foreign cars, the five-hundred-dollar pair of shoes, as well as the jewelry all added up to one thing—money. Blood money from my perspective. Yet and still, his swag was different from my idea of what the streets bred. He had etiquette. His mannerisms were that of a boss. Yes, his aura was that of someone you didn’t want to cross.
“Oh my, God. Why am I even here?” I asked for the sixth time since I arrived.
“Ma-maybe, you—” I jumped when he spoke.
“You’re awake! I’ll go get the nurse,” I said as I began to head for the door.
“No,” he said hoarsely, “I don’t need no nurse.”
His face winced, as he reached for the glass of water, that was apparently left for this reason. I watched as he sipped it slowly.
“You sure you don’t need a nurse?” I asked curiously.
He gazed at me through lidded eyes studying me, then placed the glass back on the stand. “Yes, I’m sure. But, you can come over here and help me sit up.” He grimaced trying to upright himself.
“Oh, Lord, hold on—let me help you,” I spoke, rushing over to assist this strange creature, that I found myself intrigued with. I used the controls attached to the bed and pressed up as the bed began to rise.
It put him in a sitting position. “Argh, shit,” he exclaimed.
I stopped and stared at him apologetically, “Sorry.”
“Nah, ma, you good ‘preciate you.” I smiled at his vernacular. He studied me once more. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t really give him an honest answer. Hell, I didn’t know the answer. I just gave him the only honest answer, I could give.
“Well—um, an officer contacted me while I was at work and told me you’d been shot. He said the reason he contacted me was because he was going through your phone looking for an emergency contact and found my number under—um, wife.”
Our eyes locked as I waited for him to clear the air, yet all he said was, “Stop avoiding the question, Destiny. Why are you here? Not how you got here—not who contacted you. But, why did you come?”
Releasing a long gush of wind, I finally had to admit the truth. “I—I don’t know,” I whispered as I turned to get the hell out of there as fast as I could.
Before I could take the slightest step in the opposite direction, he reached out and gently, yet firmly latched on to my wrist. I turned to face him stubborn tears welled up in my eyes. Confusion, anger, lust, curiosity, and anticipation—it was all part of my insanity at this very moment.
Just this morning I had my family’s lawyer contact Sa’Mage. He should be receiving the divorce papers in a few days. He refused just as I thought he would. But, my lawyer informed him, that if he decided to take this in front of the courts, we’d not only win but also clear him out. Sa’Mage wasn’t a stupid man by far. He knew if he stood before any judge in the state of, Texas. He’d undoubtfully lose and have to pay alimony. So needless to say, he ended up conceding.
‘Please don’t confuse my actions with my emotions.’ I love Sa’Mage this man is attentive, loving, responsible and dedicated. It’s just that his profession has caused us one too many problems on the home front. It’s not safe with him anymore. This last incident was the last straw to add salt to the wound. I was standing in the presence of the very man, that help create the rift in my marriage.
That night at the club I left with him and he took me to a beautiful place surprising even me. He drove us to a spot located on the outskirts of the city. It was a splendor, a cliff that had a sixty-foot drop into a celestial lake. From our location, we could see the airport. For a second, we simply fell in love with the silence, as we followed the descent and departure of the aircrafts.
Then out of our moment of silence, he asked me. “If you could just pack your shit and aboard one of those planes—where would you go?”
Without looking in his direction. I answered, “Egypt!”
“Why Egypt?”
I continued to gaze at the beautiful invention that defied gravity. Then moments after his question, I gave him my reason for yearning.
“To visit the North-Eastern part of, Africa. It’s a beautiful country on the Mediterranean. It’s the homeland of the mighty, Queen Nefertiti and King Ay, who was known as God’s Father. Which in some cases can simply indicate its bearer being the father of a queen. But, for more of an ancestry of the people and the wonders they created. I just want to go back to where it all began. Not simply our ancestors but our knowledge—our power. Home,” I whispered. “It’s the home of our people.” Then I verbalize what we both knew but evidently forgot. “James—I mean, Nutz, I’m married.”
What happened next surprised me for the third time that night he began to strip. Once he was down to his boxers, he opened the car door. I was appalled, I knew this negro didn’t think he was getting any.
Before I could cuss his ass out he replied, “I know.” He slid out of the 6-series and before he did the unthinkable, he turned around and stared at me through the illumination of the headlights and tinted windows.
“Escapism,” he said.
The crazy muthafucka plunged sixty feet into the dark reflecting water.
“Escapism.” A perfect word for my current actions. An attempt to forget reality through fantasy.
***
~Six~
My pussy was now cleaned, but my hand throbbed from the thirteen stitches used to seal the jagged cut from the jaded glass, courtesy of Denton Regional Hospital. The out of towner whose name is, York drove me to a modest flat he stayed at when he was in town. As we pull up to the apartment building my cell phone rang. Reluctant to answer, I allowed voicemail to pick up the call.
“What’s good, ma? That yo’ nigga or sumin’?” York questioned.
I giggled a little and replied. “And what if it is? I’m here with you, Daddy.”
Seeming content he said. “Right—fuck dude, ma. You, wit’ a true God, now.”
Little did he know this Samsung was a throwaway. I allowed voicemail to pick up because the caller would hear me informing him all was a go and the door to the apartment would be unlocked. Sexy as he was York was simply flossing too hard around the wrong type of niggas. We’d been on him for about two months now. We knew all about playboy’s business. The ten gauges he kept under the couch. The four bricks he had disguised in flour bags. We even knew about the forty stacks he had stashed safely in the safe, hidden inside the big screen television.
Actually, from what I heard the T.V. wasn’t a T.V. at all. It was merely the T.V. frame. ‘Who in the fuck thinks like that?’ I know so much about dude’s honeycomb hideout because he has that sickness most niggas who ain’t used to having shit catch after they stumble on a few pennies—diarrhea of the mouth.
There are four things in this cruel world that will make a weak nigga run his mouth as if h
e was drunk. One some wet pussy, two some fire head, three a pistol in his face, and last but not least an interrogation room full of federal agents and a little pressure. As for this boy York, it was the fire head from my girl Mi’Shay that made him spill the beans.
All it took was two nights of freaking for him to start bragging ‘bout the loot and drugs. What gives niggas the impression, that a bitch will respect them any differently. I don’t have the slightest idea, but in this case, I’m glad, York was foolish enough to reveal his hand to a scandalous bitch like Mi’Shay. She was always down to make a quick dollar, so when she told me how this nigga was running off at the mouth. I passed the info to ‘my boo’ and here I stood.
Willingly ready to suck, fuck, whatever my baby needed to add to his ways of life. What else I gotta do to prove to this nigga I was built to be his queen?
***
~Assata~
Sticking to the shadows of the apartments. Gusto, Strange, this nigga Fiya a young stick up kid from around the way, and myself made our way towards York’s spot. We’d been waiting for this nigga for quite some time. With gloved hands, I gripped the MPS tightly. With a quick glance behind me, I noticed my niggas, masked up, in all black, clutchin’ weapons that should be illegal to niggas of our caliber.
Just around the corner three doors enclosed somebody’s privacy and protected somebody’s treasures. Behind these three doors, somebody felt safe. Power surged through me, as the anticipation of the unknown enhanced my senses. My eyes locked onto the door in the middle breezeway.
“Showtime, my niggas!”
***
~Six~
Ecstasy was the only word that could be used to describe the way I was feeling at the moment. But, before I put you onto why I’m on the verge of cumin’ all over my best friend’s lips. Allow me to bring y’all up to speed on how I ended up straddling Mi’Shay’s face as York fucked her like he had a point to prove.