Stud Princess

by N'Tyse

  Once Rene stepped out in her costume, Chyna circled her for a full inspection from head to toe. She poured scented oil into her hands and began massaging it into Rene’s arms, thighs, ass, and legs. She was gentle with her touch. “Put this on,” she said, handing Rene a tube of lipstick. “It’s his favorite.”

  Watching Rene carefully glide the bloody red color over her lips made Chyna’s pussy tremble. She shifted a little, never taking her eyes off what was in front of her.

  Rene handed the lipstick back to Chyna. She could sense that Chyna was getting turned on by all of this and that was enough to warrant the nausea floating from her gut.

  With a sinister grin on her face, Chyna instructed, “Now, turn around.”

  Hesitantly, Rene turned slowly.

  “Centerfold perfect. He’s going to fall head over heels for your sexy ass!” Chyna said. “Now this here’s a key to the room.” Chyna passed Rene a plastic key card. “When you’re done, come back and wait for me here.”

  Rene just stared into thin air.

  “Bitch, are you listening to me?”

  That got Rene’s attention. She nodded profusely, tears rushing her face.

  “Now, I’m gon’ run this shit by you, play by play, one more time. And I’m warning you right now, you better not fuck this up.”

  A moment later, Chyna led Rene out the door and ushered her down the hall to the last door on their left. The entire floor belonged to Chyna. Every Friday and Saturday night, she rented every suite on the twelfth floor so that she knew exactly who was where, at what time, and who they were with. These were her high-dollar clients that paid big money to sleep with her girls, so she made sure they got their money’s worth.

  Chyna knocked twice on the door and was greeted by one of her favorite clients. He was tall and handsome with deep brown eyes and curly black hair. The scanty specs of gray were deceivingly hidden—this time.

  “Zirafelli,” Chyna smiled seductively as she spoke his name.

  He pulled the door open farther, and Chyna and Rene stepped inside. He took one look at Rene and smiled delightfully in approval. Chyna had done right by him, like always. “So, is this the infamous Illusion you’ve been telling me about?” He leaned forward and gave Chyna a peck on the cheek.

  “You knew I’d take good care of you,” Chyna said. She glanced over at Rene, then back at her client. “But be gentle with this one, okay?” She lifted one brow at him. “She’s my shiny little keepsake.”

  Zirafelli worked up a laugh. “Aren’t they all?” he guffawed, taking a sip of his bourbon.

  Rene looked away at Chyna’s comment. Her arms felt like dead weight, and her legs like weak sticks that were only seconds away from collapsing beneath her. She resented everything that she knew was getting ready to take place. But in her mind, her heart, and deep down within her soul, she knew she didn’t have a choice. Her and Sand’s lives depended on the outcome of tonight.

  Chyna removed the hat from her head and a full length of body curls cascaded over her shoulders. “All right, I say we get down to business,” she suggested to both of them, Zirafelli primarily. Chyna unlatched the guitar case, opened it, and revealed the twelve pounds of cocaine she had placed inside. Zirafelli reached in for one of the bundles, sniffing as hard as he could through the undetectable wrapping. “If you need a taste test, she’s right here,” Chyna reminded him. She knew how he preferred his high. That’s why she packed along his own little prescribed dosage. She slipped Zirafelli a glass vial containing at least two grams of coke. It was a token of her appreciation for remaining such a dedicated customer.

  “You sure know how to treat an old man,” Zirafelli said with eyes that wouldn’t stop roaming Rene’s body. “My guy is in the lobby. The same one I always bring,” he informed her. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow.

  “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone then.” Chyna gave Zirafelli a departing kiss on the cheek, then glanced over at Rene who was as stiff as a board. “Relax,” she whispered in Rene’s ear. “It will only hurt as much as you think that it will,” she enlightened, hoping that Rene took heed to her earlier warning.

  Rene didn’t reply, but her icy cold glare spoke volumes.

  “Time for me to handle up.” Chyna was now ready to transact the additional related business and collect the remainder of her payment. She saw herself out of the room and made her way to the hotel’s lobby, leaving Rene and Zirafelli alone to get better acquainted.

  * * *

  She could feel his sperm swimming in her mouth, but Rene tried her hardest not to gag. When Zirafelli’s final jerks softened and his swollen dick went limp, she slid her mouth from around his penis tip, leaving her with a saltwater taste tempting her to vomit all over his midsection. She could not and would not adhere to his request to swallow, and instead, sent the contents in her mouth erupting down her chin. Without another thought to spare, she jumped to her feet, staggering toward the end of the bed. She quickly gathered the gown and robe, then rushed to the bathroom, gargling what was left of the slimelike residue to keep it from flushing down her windpipe. She held up the lid on the toilet with her free hand, then began throwing up her insides.

  Afterward, Rene leaned into the sink, bending over just enough so the cold water could run into her mouth and overflow. She did that repeatedly. When she was satisfied, she walked back into the room, now covered in the hooded, oversized black robe, only to find Zirafelli getting high off the remaining lines of cocaine he hadn’t finished snorting off her ass. She watched unbelievingly, her eyes wide and blank, as the powder disappeared into the rolled one hundred-dollar bill.

  Zirafelli leaned his head back and held his nose together, trying to relieve himself of the burn. Spotting Rene out of the corner of his eye, he grew shameful for neglecting his manners. He then lifted his imitation straw in her direction. “Care to join me?”

  Rene shook her head. “Are we done here?” she asked, ready to get the hell up out of there. This was more than what she cared to see right now. She’d done the deed she was threatened to do, and now it was time to go.

  Zirafelli grunted loudly as the tingling sensation traveled up his nose. He looked up. “Not unless you want more of where that came from, sweet cakes! My little blue pill was built to last,” he responded with powder the color of snow clinging to his untrimmed nose hairs.

  Rene could barely keep it together. She was disgusted at the mere sight of him, let alone the smell and taste of him. She didn’t offer a reply, just turned her back and left the room.

  She made her way back down the hall and used her key to unlock the door. Finally, she was all alone. She broke down into tears and rushed for the shower. No matter how hard she scrubbed or how hot she raised the temperature, she could never escape the filth clinging to her conscience.

  An hour had passed, and Chyna still hadn’t returned to the room. Impatient, nervous, and scared out of her mind, Rene decided to go look for her. She headed down the corridor and to the main floor. She did her best to conceal the recurring nightmare playing itself out in her life right now. She returned a weak smile to the elderly white woman shuffling past her and to the clerk who fell in her line of vision in that same moment. It was painful to look happy. Painful to pretend that she was okay.

  “Looking for me?” a woman’s voice called from behind.

  Rene turned to the voice, clearly startled; however, this was nothing new. Chyna had undoubtedly placed a horrifying fear inside of her.

  “Yeah. I’m, uh, finished. Zirafelli’s still up there . . . if . . . you need . . . to see him.”

  Chyna moved her lips, but only to chew on her gum as she assessed Rene. She started not to give her a single dime considering how much of a stuck-up little bitch she was. She was burning unnecessary energy on Rene, but she had a much more strategic agenda in progress, and she still needed the girl’s help in her plot to kill Albery.

  She handed Rene an envelope similar to the one she’d given her before. Rene n
ervously looked around them, completely on guard. She peeked inside.

  “It’s all there,” Chyna said. “As agreed.”

  Rene didn’t quite know how to react. Everything about this was wrong. She kept reminding herself that it would all be over soon. And then she and Sand could reclaim their lives together. Things could go back to the way they used to be—before all of the lies and secrets. She allowed her emotions to retreat.

  “Am I done?”

  Chyna tucked her smile. “For now.”

  18

  Fletch knew he was tripping like a motherfucka, but something was telling him that he wasn’t. He sped up, moving in on the vehicle in front of him.

  Sand took a second look in the rearview mirror before asking Ty to check out the car behind them.

  “Oh shit!” Ty cursed, ducking her head.

  “What?”

  “We got a problem.” Ty turned back around in her seat. “What is this nigga doing?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Sand looked behind them at the Hummer that was riding their taillights. “What? Who is it? You know the nigga or something?” Sand was frantic, and she could barely get the words out as her head moved up and down, back and forth, from the rearview mirror to the road.

  “That’s Fletch,” Ty said as if Sand should have already known. “Chyna’s wannabe bodyguard/dealer—just somebody you don’t want following you. And if he knows what’s up, we’re fucked!”

  “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m stopping this car.” Sand floored the accelerator, picking up speed. She was going fifty miles per hour in a thirty-mile zone.

  “We ain’t got no choice but to stop and see what’s up or else this nigga really gone think we up to something. You forget who car we rollin’,” Ty reminded her. “Just don’t be acting all suspicious and shit. Let me see what’s up,” she said. She blew out a couple of breaths. “Trust me. I got this nigga,” she said confidently.

  Fletch wasn’t as fucked up as he thought. He recognized the bitch in the passenger seat, and he could smell her pussy blowing in the wind. It was definitely Ty. He pulled along the driver side to see who in the hell this nigga was pushing Chyna’s whip, because it sure as hell wasn’t somebody he was familiar with.

  Nike sat up straighter. He was high, but that didn’t alter his concentration or his ability to check out what was popping because his mind was set on one thing: hitting a lick. “Nigga, what the fuck is you doing? You tryna holla at some hoes when we s’posed to be chasing this gwap?” Nike lashed out at Fletch.

  Fletch passed the blunt to Nike. “Nigga, holds the fuck up right quick! Something’s up.” Fletch let down Nike’s side of the window. The cool air made room in between them. “S’up? Pull over!” he yelled out to the driver.

  Sand, with both her hands glued to the wheel, took one look at Fletch and knew automatically that he wasn’t on toy cop security patrol. He had a Suge Knight build with a suave, clean-shaven baby face. And when he opened his mouth, she spotted his heavy metal iced-out grill. “S’up?” he yelled to her again over the thugged-out passenger riding shotgun.

  “Just pull over. I got you,” Ty whispered to Sand.

  Giving in, Sand veered to the right and pulled into a Family Dollar parking lot at the corner of St. Augustine and Scyene. It was dark out, and the red glowing sign offered minimal lighting.

  “Just be cool,” Ty warned her. She quickly pulled off her jacket and tightened her shirt by knotting it in the back. She ripped it slightly up top so that her usually unnoticeable cleavage, could be seen. Then she flipped down the visor to get a glimpse at exactly what it was she was working with. When a horrifying image of herself materialized in the overhead mirror, she almost freaked out. She had forgotten all about her fresh bruises and scars—until now. Ty returned the mirror back to its closed position.

  Fletch hopped out of the Hummer and paced his steps as he walked around to Ty’s side, checking back and forth at the driver with an unfriendly mug plastered across his face.

  Sand watched as the shadow lurking behind them grew bigger. She took in the atmosphere. Saw how the man that walked around to the passenger door silently called her out from a distance. That’s why she cradled her chin and faced ahead, knowing that her protection was only a short reach away.

  “Who the fuck is this motherfucka?” Fletch shot to Ty, folding his arms. His eyes bounced back and forth from Ty to her chauffeur.

  Ty rolled her window down more. “Heyyy,” she said, easing the door open. She tried to play the whole thing off. “Fletch, lemme holla at you for a second, baby.” She closed the door, scooped his arm in hers, and walked nearly five feet away from the car.

  Fletch tagged beside her, glancing at Sand as often as he felt.

  “I got a hustle going right now,” Ty began, pulling out the first lie that came to mind. She stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “Man, this bitch got mad dough, and Chyna asked me to run her down and scope her out. She think she pushing weight in her hood.” Ty looked Fletch directly in the face, hoping her lie would stand the test.

  “Word?”

  Ty bounced her head. “Yep. I let her drive ’cause she say she know the hood better than I do.” Ty started looking around as if she was lost. “As a matter of fact, where the hell are we?”

  “PG. Quit acting dumb,” Fletch said, not buying anything she was telling him.

  “For real. I ain’t never been over here,” she lied.

  Fletch uncrossed his arms. “Well, I’ma call Chyna right now ’cause she ain’t even mention this shit to me.” He reached for the cell phone hanging off his hip.

  Ty grabbed his hand. “Oh, so you ain’t believin’ what the fuck I say now?” she frowned, rolling her neck. She threw her hands over her small hips and stretched her titties in his face. “I ain’t never gave you a reason to doubt me. All the shit I’ve done on the DL for you, nigga, and you got the nerve to doubt me over some bullshit that don’t even matter? Okay, I see how quick you switch it up when you need your dick sucked again. Better yet, when you need some pussy.” Ty knew bringing up the free pussy would cause him to reconsider, especially if he planned on ever hitting it again.

  Fletch lowered his hand. “A’ight, if you say so.”

  “Nigga, I know so,” Ty boasted. Her head moved along with every word. She stepped closer, lowered her volume. “Let me play this bitch like I know how, make my paper, and catch you on the rebound.” She reached out for his dick but instead gripped all jeans.

  Fletch licked his lips and squinted his glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m with that shit,” he nodded. “Call me as soon as you done with that trick.”

  “Fo sho. You know how we get down,” she grinned, winking one eye. She stuck her salty finger in her mouth. “I’ll get these lips all ready,” she teased, “because I’m gon’ need a real dick by the time I’m done with her ass.”

  Fletch stirred his tongue around in his mouth. Just thinking about getting some head had his eyes and his mouth watering. Even his jimmy was starting to attack his boxers as he contemplated what positions he would flip Ty’s fine ass in later. He didn’t care anything about her face being busted in. He just wanted a piece. His cell started to vibrate like crazy. He looked down, recognizing the number. He held up one finger to Ty, answering it before it could go to voice mail. “What up, motherfucka?”

  “Nigga, you call me more than my bitches do. What the fuck is up with that shit?”

  Ty moved her lips slowly. “We’re leaving,” she mouthed to Fletch. She backed away, holding her hand up to her left ear. “I’ll call you,” she whispered. She turned her back and headed for the car where Sand waited impatiently with the engine still running.

  “Wait a minute!” he hollered back out to Ty. He was going to ask her what time to meet up. He laughed at his boy. “Fuck you, man. I was calling ’cause Chyna say her eagle didn’t drop last night. Know anything about that? ’Cause me and Nike ready to put in some overtime,” he said, talking in code. Although he spok
e on a burn-out phone that was supposedly impossible to trace due to the chip that was inside of it, he still didn’t trust it.

  “What you mean she didn’t get her payment?” K.C. balked. “I was with Aaron and James when they dropped that shit. Aaron made sure that everybody on payroll got paid last night, and the rest of that shit we dropped off, like always.”

  “So where the fuck y’all drop it, nigga, ’cause evidently, it ain’t where it need to be, or I wouldn’t be blowing you up, Einstein-ass nigga,” he said sarcastically.

  Ty walked back over to where Fletch was, shifting her weight from one side to the other. She began biting down on her lip and rocking her legs. Fletch reached for her hand so that she could feel what she had done to him. His dick had swollen solid and was inches from detonating in his pants. He’d let her suck him off right there, behind that building, if she wasn’t so pressed for time.

  Ty unzipped Fletch’s jeans and stuck her hand inside, massaging his shriveled up balls until he turned red in the face. She made room for herself in his leather coat. Ty knew that at the rate she was going, it’d only be a matter of minutes before it was all over because she was working the head of his dick like crazy.

  “Y’all killing me with this miscommunication shit,” K.C. told Fletch. “We put that shit inside Chyna’s trunk. Matter fact, two hoes were in the car. A dyke-looking broad and a ho with some peacock-looking, blue-ass hair. I’m guessing they were the new runners. But Aaron checked that shit out and gave us the green light.”

  Fletch was listening to K.C. but concentrated more on the nut filling up Ty’s hand. “Yeah, a’ight, then. Let me hit you back,” he grunted.

  Ty slipped her hands out, grinning from ear to ear. She rubbed the cream in her hands together like lotion, then she slyly glanced back at Sand who was pointing to her wrist, reminding her that they needed to get a move on. “Fletch, we have to go. She has some, uh, customers waiting for her,” Ty said.