“Anyway, I call you tomorrow and we’ll meet up, okay?”
“All right.”
I could tell Nikki was lying about the Damien part. He’s probably hoeing around up there on her. It’s not like Nikki don’t do the same behind his back anyway. I don’t know what she’s gonna to do with her life. She’s already 25 and she ain’t gonna be young forever.
The next night I meet up with Nikki in a nice, closed-gate community in Buckhead. I drive up to a big house in the cut and I see a few Benzes and Escalades parked out front. There must be some rich niggas up in here. I see Nikki and Penny standing out front waiting for me, and I pull up next to them.
“I thought you wasn’t gonna show up for a second,” Nikki says.
“Just got caught in traffic. We gonna get changed inside?”
“Yeah, girl, we gonna blow these tricks’ minds,” Nikki says.
For some reason, I can’t help but feel degraded by that comment. Are they tricks for giving us money, or are we the ones selling ourselves short? Anyway, we go in the back door and Trey-D shows us to our changing room. I put on my old, plunge halter baby doll teddy with black silk panties. Nikki dresses in a pink two-piece bikini with matching high heel shoes. Penny, who measures at 34-28-42, has on a tan bikini that ties in the back. Penny is a very voluptuous and curvy girl with big titties, thick thighs, and a small enough waist to make it look sexy.
We all put on trench coats and walk out to the living room where there are about 20 corporate-looking types—the kind of guys who work downtown. There are a few niggas dressed in Sean John and Rocawear, but they look like they have money.
The music cuts off, and all three of us stand in the center of the room. Then Shawnna and Ludacris’ “Gettin’ Some” starts to bump from the stereo. We drop our coats to the floor, making every man groan and gawk at us. We start to break it down to the music.
We all do the standard rump-shaker moves that make our asses bounce. Penny has a talent, if you can call it that, for making one ass cheek shake, then the other, and then both together. The men love it. Nikki is a gyrator, and she pushes her rump up against a man’s dick and practically jacks him off with her ass cheeks. Me, I’m a dancer at heart. Nikki tells me that that’s a talent most women don’t have, and that’s what gives me an edge. I grind my hips like a snake and belly dance, then I dip it down low and pop my pussy to the floor. I’m so used to doing it that I don’t have to think about it.
The funny thing is, I’m thinking about how much I don’t wanna be here. Pretty soon, we all get separated and start to give private dances. The men, for the most part, are respectful and don’t try to stick their fingers up in me and shit. They just take tens and twenties and hold them out. I get closer and they push the bills between my panty lining.
I look around. Penny has already taken off her top. She’s rubbing her titties in some guy’s face while Nikki rides some nigga.
I seem to be getting most of the attention as a small group has formed around me. You can clearly see my round, soft titties through my sheer black teddy. Some men rub their fingers over my firm nipples. One guy is sweating me serious. The music switches to Nelly’s “Tip Drill.”
The one guy that’s sweating me whispers in my ear. “I would love to go somewhere private with you.”
I don’t reply to him and keep on dancing. Trey-D has four more girls come over, and they start to freak.
The guy who’s trying to holla whispers in my ear again. “I got $2,000 I can give you if we can go somewhere.”
Once again, I ignore him and dance over to another guy standing by the wall. I start to grind my ass on him as he reaches around and stuffs a twenty down the front of my panties. The other dude walks up to me again. Damn, he’s persistent.
“What’s it gonna take for you to come play with me, baby?” he asks.
“You don’t have enough,” I tell him and walk away, looking around the room for Nikki. I don’t see her. I don’t see Penny, either. Great, where are they? I walk to the back room and still don’t see them. I head upstairs and look in the bathroom and see nothing. Where the hell are they? I know they didn’t just leave my ass here.
As I’m walking down the hallway, I hear a man moan in a nearby room. I push the half-open door and see Nikki and Penny doing some ménage à trois shit. Penny’s riding some guy’s dick reverse cowgirl style, while Nikki’s sitting on his face, drowning him with her pussy.
I close the door and walk to the back room. I get my stuff and change back to my street clothes. Nikki and Penny can have this shit. I’m done.
As I walk to my car, the asshole that was trying to holla at me inside runs up.
“Hey, hey, wait up.”
“What?” I say, pissed off.
“Listen, I’m willing to make it worth your while. A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be dancing. I can take care of you, girl. I just wanna be with you,” he says with a stupid-ass grin on his face. This dude looks like an uglier version of that pimp that be with Snoop Dogg all the time. I stare at him then start to laugh.
“Listen, I know you think you can flash some money and I’ll go with you, and I don’t blame you for thinking that. A month ago, I probably would’ve. But I can’t do this shit no more. Besides, I got a man in my life.” I turn and walk away. He cusses me out as I drive away, but I don’t care.
This is officially the nail in the coffin for me. Tommy’s right; I can do a whole lot better than this. I just wish he would come back soon so I could tell him that.
6
Pussy Kills
JAYSON
For the past three weeks, I’ve been in New York with Damien, getting close to King and gaining his trust. It hasn’t been easy seeing Vanessa and King together. What trouble could she have been in to make her turn to him? It’s pure torture watching a woman I once loved give herself to a man as foul as this nigga. We haven’t talked to each other since that first night, but there are times when she looks at me and her eyes seem to be yelling for help.
At the same time, I’ve been missing Mo’Nique back in Atlanta. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way for her, but I can’t help it. Since I’ve been with her, I’ve felt brand new and happy. But she knows Tommy the hustler, not Jayson the cop. As soon as this assignment is over, that whole relationship will end. I don’t wanna let her go. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. Why would she want to be with a cop?
King is a slick nigga. He’s got these different girls’ apartments throughout Harlem that he pays the rent for and sets up shop in. They cook up the product and sell it out of these places. He’s even got office buildings in Manhattan that he rents out through different spas and hair salons. They supply the corporate types with nose candy. He also gets a cut out of the “private massages” that the women in the spas offer for the right price. King has evolved beyond a common street thug and doesn’t get his hands dirty anymore. Back in the day, King was a ruthless killer that was known for slitting niggas from ear to ear. Nowadays, Damien is his triggerman. King points to a corner, and three niggas die by sunset.
This whole time, King has been watching me, checking me out and making sure I’m as down as Damien says I am. This nigga ain’t stupid; but neither am I. This supplier out in L.A. is going to be trafficking their product to him in Atlanta. That’s why Damien and the Flip Set have been locking down College Park and East Point for the past six months.
The three of us are kicking it at a nightclub in Harlem called The Blue Angel. Women are all around us, throwing their panties at King. Word is, a big-time hustler called Bishop owned this spot in the ’90s. King “inherited” the club after Bishop’s untimely death and took over the business.
At the table we have two bottles of Moët and three gold bottles of Cristal. We’re getting fucked up. King has this fine-ass chick called Charlene, a bronze-skinned girl with Asian facial features, sitting in his lap. She has on a low-cut dress that goes down to her belly button, showing off the cleavage of her C-cup titties. Her long, s
ilky black hair is pulled to the side and King strokes it with one hand. His other hand is on her inner thigh.
“So you a model, ma?” King asks her.
“Yeah, I do a little,” Charlene says.
“Yo, Tommy, this is the life you gonna be enjoying pretty soon,” King says to me.
“That’s what I’m here for,” I tell him.
“Damien tells me you got a bad-ass little red thing down in ATL.”
“Yeah, she’s straight.”
“Good. Just remember you can never have enough pussy, nigga,” King says as he palms Charlene’s ass.
“No doubt,” Damien chimes in.
“Yo, Dame, you still fucking Trina ass raw?” King asks.
“You know that’s my boo. That pussy be like crack. You know how that is,” Damien says.
I take another drink of Cristal, and lean back and close my eyes.
“Whoa, cowboy, take it easy. Don’t pop, nigga,” King says when he sees my closed eyes.
“I’m . . . fine, man,” I say with a little slur.
“Yo, Dame, get the car and get your man back to the house,” King instructs.
“A’ight,” Damien says. Damien helps me up, walks me out to the car, and tells the driver to take me back to the mansion.
I wasn’t really that drunk. I just wanted to get out of there and clear my head. The house is quiet at three o’clock in the morning. I go to my room and lie on the bed. I’m lost in thought about what I’m going to do. My door opens and Vanessa walks in.
“Vanessa . . .” I say, staring at her beautiful body.
“Dwayne’s having another late night business meeting,” she sarcastically says.
“Well, you know him better than I do.”
“Jayson, I don’t wanna be here with him.”
“Then leave him,” I say bluntly.
“I will, but I need your help,” she pleads.
“Okay, I’ll help you if I can, but if you’re in this in any way with King, I can’t protect you,” I tell her.
“I’m not,” she says as she steps farther into the room and looks out the window. “He usually doesn’t show up until ten in the morning the next day,” she says.
“Sounds like this is a routine.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m his trophy girl. I’m to be seen but not heard. Everything a girl hopes to be when she grows up,” she says with bitterness. “What about you, Jayson? Did you meet somebody special?”
“Yeah, I did. I married her and then she divorced me.”
“Sorry about that. What about now? Is there someone in your life?”
“Well, not really. It’s not what I want it to be right now.” I wish I had met Mo’Nique under different circumstances.
“You know, since you’ve been here, I’ve been remembering what we had together. It brought back some feelings I didn’t know I still had for you,” Vanessa says. “I keep on thinking that this isn’t the life I saw for myself when I was in high school. I thought I would be with you.”
“Vanessa, I never forgot about you. We just had to do what was best for us back then.”
“So what’s best for us now?” she says as she turns to me and removes her white satin slip. The moonlight reflects off her perfectly sculpted body. Her firm breasts and large nipples are just as I remember them.
“Vanessa, we shouldn’t . . .” But before I can finish my sentence, her lips are on mine. I feel like we’re in high school again. She stands up in front of me and pulls down her panties. My dick gets hard looking at her neatly shaven triangle of pubic hair. She undoes my pants, pulls out my hard dick, and mounts me as I lie on the bed. She grabs my dick and rubs the head on her clit, making herself wet. The sensation is incredible, as I feel her warm juices on me. Then she pushes the head in her pussy, sliding the rest of me inside her.
Vanessa doesn’t want to make love; she wants to fuck. She rides me like a jockey, bucking up and down. I can barely hold on as she grinds and bucks on my dick. Vanessa kisses me with passion as if she’s been waiting to have me since the day she saw me again. I roll her over on her back, lift one leg, and stroke her wet pussy.
“Oh, shit . . . give it to me, Jayson!” Vanessa exclaims passionately.
Over and over, I pound her as she bucks back on my dick. I forgot how good her pussy felt. She bites her bottom lip and pinches her left nipple. I drop her leg and put my arms under her shoulders, giving it to her deep and hard, stroking into that wet vagina.
“I’m cumming . . .” Vanessa moans. “Ahhh . . . yes! Oh, Jayson, I want you to fuck me doggy-style like you used to.”
I rise up off her. Vanessa gets up off the bed and turns around. I sit up on the edge of the mattress as she lowers her wet pussy around my dick, riding me again. Bending over, she touches the floor, bouncing her ass up and down, tightening her pussy around my dick. Then I stand behind her so I can hit it hard doggy-style while standing up. Damn, that ass is so fat and bouncy. Her cheeks jiggle as I hit it hard from the back, watching my wet dick go in and out of her. Vanessa’s cum coats my throbbing member, letting me know that she’s climaxed again.
After punishing her pussy for 45 exhausting minutes, we both cum and collapse on the bed. I can’t help but think that she fucks me more like a stripper than Mo’Nique does. The funny thing is, as good as the sex is with Vanessa, I still find myself wanting to be with Mo’Nique. After all these years of fantasizing about Vanessa, even while married to Lauren, it finally happens here of all places.
We lay on the bed in silence, breathing hard. After we both regain our composure, Vanessa puts her slip back on. “I still love you, Jayson,” she says to me, then returns to her bedroom.
I didn’t expect to hear her say that. Is she in love with Jayson Harper, the boy she knew in high school, or Jayson Harper, the undercover cop that’s going to arrest her drug-dealing boyfriend? What do I really feel for Mo’Nique? Why am I thinking about her when I’m with Vanessa?
DAMIEN
“I had my doubts about Tommy, but he’s a thoroughbred nigga,” King says to me.
“That’s what I told you, son. I didn’t trust him either at first, but after he capped that nigga down in Atlanta for me, I had no doubt.”
“Good, ’cause we gonna need a nigga like him down south running shit. Who are the other two new niggas you got down there?” he asks.
“Quan and Corey.”
“Yeah, dem ma’fuckas and Horse will be able to help him run it,” King says.
“So, let me ask you something, my nigga. Did you ever think we would be running shit like this?” I ask him. “You took down Bishop, the biggest gangsta in Harlem.”
“I had no doubt about it. Bishop was a real OG, but he couldn’t keep up with the times. And more importantly, he always used to underestimate me. Future King is what he used to jokingly call me. Well, he was right about that. You remember that night you saved my life back at that warehouse party in ’93?” he asks.
“Yeah. That was a crazy night.”
“I told you I got you for life. I meant that shit, my nigga,” King says as he takes a drink. “I remember when I first saw you at Nard’s house party back when you were a young gun. I saw that hunger in your eyes. I knew you were born to be a hustler, my nigga.”
“I remember that night—a nigga was plotting on robbing you.” We both laugh.
“Yeah, I know! That’s why I had to get you on my team quick,” King says as we laugh together.
King and I further reminisce about things at the club. I can’t help but think about how he said Bishop used to underestimate him. Does King do the same thing with me? I owe King a lot—he’s the one that got me in the game for real—but has he always had my best interests in mind? Or does he keep me close to make sure I ain’t a threat to him? I guess that’s some shit I’ve always asked myself but never tried to figure out.
That model bitch Charlene walks over to tell her Puerto Rican friend, Yaritza, about me. I hope she’s down for some dick tonight.
&nb
sp; As we knock back drinks, I see a nigga named Cornell on the dance floor. He used to hustle some shit for me three years ago. This ma’fucka stole 10 grand and five bricks from me and skipped town. I’ve been dying to catch up with this ma’fucka. Last I heard, that nigga was in New Jersey, and then he disappeared. He must’ve heard I was down south and decided to come back in to town. Wrong night, nigga. I couldn’t just run up on him in the club. Naw, I had to creep this nigga on some slick shit.
“Yo, King, you see that nigga on the dance floor in the FUBU sweater?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the ma’fucka that stole those bricks and 10 grand from me,” I tell him.
“Word? You gonna murda that fool?”
“Yeah, son. Yo, tell them girls I got some business to handle.” I get up from the table and follow Cornell out to his car. He has a girl with him, so I let him get in his whip and follow him to a Holiday Inn down the road. This nigga goes and checks in and comes back and gets the girl, taking her to the room.
I follow him to the room and wait for them to get settled in. I wait about 15 minutes for that nigga to be getting busy with the girl he’s with. I take out my .45 and creep to the door. I knock.
“Who is it?” he yells.
“Hotel security. Sir, do you own a black Honda Accord?” I ask through the door.
“Yeah,” he answers.
“Somebody busted out your window, sir.”
“What the fuck?” he yells as he comes rushing to the door and opens up. “I’ma fuck a nigga up!”
“Just what I was thinking, nigga,” I say to him, pointing my .45 in his face.
“Oh, shit.”
I buck him in the face and he falls on the ground, bleeding.
“Oh my God!” the naked girl in bed yells. This nigga is in his boxers trying to crawl away.
“Where ya going, nigga?”
“Shit, Dame! Dame! Listen!” Cornell yells.
“What, nigga?”
“I can explain.”
The Pink Palace Page 8