by Mink, Meesha
As I cranked the car, one of the goons reached behind him under his shirt, but Make$ held his hand up, stopping him. I reversed out the spot, backing up to them before I accelerated forward. I lowered the window. “You got one week to get my money, nigga,” I hollered before I sped out the parking garage doing about a hundred.
I finally dropped the gun to the passenger seat and said a silent prayer of thanks that I lied my ass off so well.
The last week of my life had been hectic. Twice I had to pull a gun on a nigga. Make$ was free for a little bit before his sentencing. And my archnemesis might be running a high-priced prostitution ring under the cover of her booking agency.
It was a mix of crazy and crazier. My plate was mad full. And even though I was coming out on top of every situation, I felt like my mind was constantly on the brink of slipping. Like at any second I would flip the fuck out and go crazy. Do something crazy.
During my whole drive from Jersey to New York, my hands shook so bad and my heart beat so hard from the scene with Make$. It had my nerves still all fucked up, but I didn’t stop zooming through the streets until I eventually steered my Jag onto the New Jersey Turnpike and then through the Lincoln Tunnel until I reached Manhattan.
I looked up at the towering Upper East Side apartment building. Goldie had one of the penthouse apartments. Sitting high looking down over the city of New York. It was an upgrade from Twleve50.
A huge upgrade. When my snitch first told me where she lived, I jumped right on the Internet and looked up the apartment building. I knew she was looking at five figures every fucking month and now I knew just how she was able to afford it. Pushing pussy.
Business had to be booming.
I slowed down as I passed the front of the building. I almost hit the brakes at the sight of Goldie strutting out the door held open by the doorman. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her shades were in place. The white dress she wore clung to every curve of her body.
“I wonder where the fuck she going,” I said aloud even as my lips curled in anger as she stood there waiting.
My right hand released its tight grip of the steering wheel and shifted down to stroke my .357 still sitting on the passenger seat.
No, I didn’t want to kill the bitch. She wasn’t worth a murder charge . . . but I would have loved to jump out my car, race across the street, and pistol-whip her no-good ass until her pretty white dress was ruined with her own blood.
A white convertible Bentley pulled up to the front of the building and the valet hopped out to race around the car. I watched Goldie slide something into his hand before she came around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“That bitch got a Bentley. What the fuck?!” I watched my rearview mirror until the Bentley was out of sight, fighting the urge to follow the bitch—only because I didn’t want her to spot me and know I was gunning for her.
9
Back when me and Has was messing around and taking our anger at Goldie out in the sheets, he used to stand behind me in the mirror and caress everything he loved about my body. My wide hips. My thick thighs. My bald pussy. But beyond the physical, Has was the type of dude who did more than sex the hell out of you. He could lay down a serious mind-fuck. Give you shit to think about. He was a deep thug like Pac or some shit.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door. Naked. Exposed. I thought of him. Missed him. Maybe because I liked that he was more than just some weed-smoking hustler. Or because he made me feel sexy as fuck. Or because he just had a good dick.
Or because I was horny as fuck. A year was a long time.
It’s just that, as good as Has’s dick was, I didn’t love him. When we wasn’t fucking, he felt like my homeboy. Once I set my eyes on bigger revenge beyond fucking some dude Goldie wanted—like a lame—I knew I had to just let it go. Did I miss the dick? All the dick? All the good dick? Hell yeah. Shit.
I walked over to my dresser and pulled a DVD case from the drawer holding all my lacy lingerie. I took out the disc and slid it into the DVD player on the ebony shelf below the flat-screen on the wall. I sat back on the bed. On-screen, I positioned my naked body on the sofa of my living room. Legs wide open. Ass on the edge of the chair. Bald pussy pushed forward.
Soon Has walked through the front door. (I left it open because I knew he was headed up on the elevator.) My eyes took in the sexy sight of him in a wife-beater shirt and oversize cargo shorts. I really didn’t need the video I’d secretly taken that day to remember that fuckdown at all. . . .
“Damn, you was ready for this dick, huh?” Has asked as he locked the front door.
I flexed my pussy walls and he laughed as he came over to drop down to his knees and bury his head between my thighs. “Smells good,” he whispered against my flesh just before he released his tongue and stroked from the crack of my ass to my clit.
I cried out as I reached for the back of his head. “Oh shit,” I swore in a whisper, pressing my feet against the edge of the sofa Make$ handpicked to circle my hips upward as he sucked my clit between his lips.
Has dipped down to press his tongue deep inside me and then swirl it around before shifting back up to flicker his tongue against my clit. That motherfucker knew exactly what he was doing and he kept up the rotation. Suck. Plunge. Flicker. Suck. Plunge. Flicker. Suck. Plunge. Flicker.
I cried out, feeling my entire body tingle like crazy. I felt my nut about to explode in his mouth. “No, not yet,” I begged, pushing his head back to free my clit.
He looked up at me with that square face, his lips and around his mouth still moist from my juices.
“Stand up,” I told him, sitting up on the sofa and pressing my feet to the hardwood floor.
As soon as he did, his dick curving out against his zipper damn near struck me in the face. I unzipped his shorts and freed the beast, looking up into his tigerlike eyes as I took the thick and smooth tip between my lips.
His mouth fell open as he thrust his hips forward and twisted his hands in my weave to grip it tightly. “Awww. Suck that motherfucka,” he told me, his voice all thick and shit.
It made me suck him harder until the tip damn near touched the back of my throat. His knees buckled as he cried out like he sang soprano. . . .
Watching myself on that big-ass TV sucking Has’s dick made my nipples hard. I laid back on the bed and brought my hands up to lightly tease them in between massaging my breasts. “Uhmmm,” I moaned, turned on by the feel of my hands and the video, watching as Has tore his T-shirt over his head as I licked his dick like it was ice cream.
“Think Goldie can suck a dick like that?” I asked him, holding his dick like a microphone before I drizzled my spit onto it and massaged it until it looked polished.
“Man, fuck her,” he said, tilting his head to the side to watch me.
“Good answer,” I told him, lifting his dick so that I could lean down and take his balls into my mouth as I stroked the length of his dick hard.
“Shit!” he swore, damn near tearing out my tracks.
I didn’t give a fuck.
He used my hair in his fist to guide my mouth back to his dick and I sucked him until my mouth, his dick, and my hands were wet as hell from my spit.
I freed my mouth and pushed against his stomach. “Take them clothes off,” I told him, rising to my feet as I walked around him.
He slapped my ass before he undid his shorts, kicking them and his shoes away to stand there with his dick in his hand.
“Lay down, Has.”
He did.
I straddled his face from behind and he got right to it, eating me out while I bent over to finish the sixty-nine and take his dick into my mouth again. We both went to work like we were on a mission or had something to prove or some shit. It was crazy. On some other level–type shit.
I watched us on the video. On that floor. Licking and sucking each other like we was hungry. My clit felt numb. I spread my knees, feeling the lips of my pussy open wide. I sl
ipped one and then another finger inside as I watched myself sit up and then slide my body across Has’s until I was squatting over his dick. . . .
I held Has’s dick up as straight as I could with such a deep curve before I slid down onto that motherfucker and felt him fill me. “Bend your legs,” I told him. When he did I was glad to have something to hold onto, because the size of him made me feel breathless as he stretched my walls. I pressed my aching titties against his hairy thighs and grabbed each of his ankles as I began to ride him backward.
I gasped at the feel of his hands spreading my ass cheeks to watch the movement of my pussy up and down his dick. When he slipped his thumb into my ass I rode him harder, loving the feel of his dick inside me, his hands on me, and my upper body pressed against his thighs as each back-and-forward rodeolike motion of my hips brought my clit against the concrete-hard base of his dick.
Resting my head against his knees, I licked them nastily, closing my eyes as I let that pleasure course over my body. . . .
My eyes were locked on the screen as I watched my movements get faster and the sweat dampen my body. Has’s face looked like he was about to stroke.
“Oh shit, I’m gone cum,” he said.
“Me too. Me too,” I said.
As the grunts of sex filled the air, I bit my bottom lip and tilted my head backward as I pressed my hand to the clean-shaven mound of my pussy, squeezing it whole before I split my lips and lightly plucked my clit. My hips arched and I cried out with a wince, pressing my legs open wider and arching my hips up as I pressed my first three fingers to my clit in wicked circular motions until I was moaning right along with the video as I came.
I opened my eyes and watched as Has lifted me off his dick to spray his thick white nut all over my ass and back, massaging the tip in the wetness as I continued to shiver.
I lay on the bed trembling, my hand still on my pussy as I watched myself sneak the remote from between the cushions and turn the video recorder off. The screen went black.
With my heart pounding and my clit still throbbing, I felt sleepy and gave in to it. My orgasm had taken the edge off but there was no doubt that my ass really needed to get some. Quick.
A couple of hours later, after my nap and a hot bubble bath, I released a heavy breath as I looked at my reflection, forcing myself to focus on my new weave. It was still jet-black but I was trying a loose rod set, and the soft curls surrounded my face before falling down to the middle of my back. It was that messy and tousled look like I just had incredible sex (ironic as fuck, right?), and I liked the change from my bone-straight look.
I pulled on the sheer black lace lingerie sitting atop my dresser. The push-up bra, thong, waist cincher, and garter was sexy as fuck. Just because I wasn’t having sex didn’t mean I couldn’t feel sexy under my clothes. I twisted and turned in the mirror because right then, as good as I looked, I should have been taking pics to text to my man or my lover. Not pulling a short tunic dress over all this sexiness for a business dinner.
Hell, Michel got more dick than I did.
The cream tunic looked good against my dark complexion, with an open back and cutout blouson sleeves. A pair of Fendi snake-print platform pumps made me five inches taller.
I was just sliding on some gold accessories when I heard my e-mail go off from my office. We were trying to book music acts for an end-of-summer party. Thinking that might be one of the talent managers getting back to me, I made my way into my second bedroom—the offices of Yummy Entertainment. Sliding into the leopard-print chair behind the black desk, I opened my e-mail.
“Wow. Okay,” I said, leaning back as I eyed the screen.
I had alerts on my bank account, and a deposit had just been made for fifty grand. Make$ came through. I knew I blackmailed his ass, but a piece of me thought he would try me and not follow through.
It took my parents a whole year to make just a little over fifty grand apiece, and I just did it in a week. I wasn’t crazy, though. Fifty grand wasn’t life-saving type of money, and it was nowhere near what I needed to get the same lifestyle as my enemy. It was a big chunk but not enough.
I wanted a penthouse apartment and a Bentley.
I wanted to hang out with celebrities.
I wanted to live an even higher life.
For damn sure, whatever was good enough for Goldie was even better for me, and once I made sure of her downfall, she would have to sit back and watch me living the high life she took for granted.
Pushing aside thoughts of the bitch, I picked up the cordless phone and dialed the number of Make$’s manager, Chill Will. Make$’s old number had been changed, but I knew Chill Will would never change his number and risk missing a business call from an old contact.
Sure enough, he answered.
“Chill Will.”
“Will, this Luscious. Make$ with you? I need to holler at him.”
He didn’t say shit to me and I wondered if he knew that his client just paid me fifty grand and why. I shrugged. Fuck it. I heard low talking in the background before a little bit of rustling on the phone.
“Fuck you want?” Make$ suddenly said into the phone, his voice nasty as hell.
I let myself take a five count because my call wasn’t about drama. “Listen, I just wanted to say that it’s sad as fuck that everything we had or what I thought we had ended like this,” I began, picking up a pen to tap against the top of the desk. “But let’s be clear. This is the last time we will speak. Do not call me, contact me, come see me for nothing. And I’ll do the same. It’s over. All of it. So let’s just agree to move the fuck on.”
Make$ laughed sarcastically. “Easy for you to say with my fucking money in your pocket,” he snapped. “My fucking car. My fucking apartment. You really came out on top in this shit.”
Tears filled my eyes and I was mad at myself for the show of weakness even as I blinked them away. “You think having your heart broken by the man you love is easy? You think finding out your friend is a snake in the grass helping to push the blade in your back is easy? You know what, you really are dumb as hell.”
“Bitch—”
I shook my head. “No, I ain’t your bitch. I ain’t your trick, your ho, your jump-off, your nothing. Just like you went from being everything to nothing to me. Just stay away from me. Keep your bird-ass mama away from me. Tell her to keep my name out of her mouth up on the radio talking scandalous and wrong as hell . . . or her ass gone be in one jail and you in the other. Now, goodbye forever, Ter-rence.”
I ended the call, wishing I could slam the phone down in his face instead of hitting a weak-ass button. That bitch needed to hear a ring-a-ling in his ear.
The crazy thing is, before the STDs and before finding out about him and Goldie, I woulda took him over any amount of money without hesitation. But get this. It’s even crazier that Goldie sloring ass told me to never put a man before my money. The bitch was right, but she would forever be dead wrong for proving herself right by fucking my man.
Were they messing around behind my back when I met that bitch down in the neck for lunch? Was that why she acted like she knew more about me than me?
“Ugh,” I let loose in frustration, balling my hand up so tight that my fingernails dug into my fleshy palm.
I needed that proof on Goldie’s prostitution ring. I was damn near drooling waiting on it. Dreaming about what I would do with it. Blackmail the bitch? Send her and her hos to jail? Decisions, decisions, decisions.
I left my office and walked back to my bedroom to finish my makeup. Then I grabbed my keys and a tiny gold clutch and strolled out the door. My steps faltered when I saw a little girl of about six sitting in the windowsill framed by the night sky and the tiny lights of the distant skyline.
She was alone, with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them in her Hello Kitty pajamas. Her face was shielded by her long blonde hair but I recognized her as the daughter of the couple at the end of the hall.
I glanced down at my diamon
d Cartier watch. It was nearly eleven at night.
Did her parents even know she was out in the hall that time of night?
Didn’t they know it wasn’t safe?
Yes, we were in a secured building but the weirdos could be neighbors. People you trusted.
She turned her head and looked at me. Her face was solemn. Her eyes were sad.
I felt nauseous all of a sudden. Like I could vomit. Tension filled my neck. I wondered if I ate something that was tearing me up as I walked down the hall to her. “Do your parents know you’re out here?” I asked her the same question I asked myself.
She shook her head. “They’re sleeping,” she said in a soft voice.
“I don’t think you should be out here,” I told her, holding out my hand as a weird feeling shimmied over my entire body. “It’s not safe for little girls all alone. Okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, taking my hand as she hopped down.
I quickly led her to the door of her family’s apartment. Even though the door was slightly ajar, I rang the doorbell as I held her hand tightly.
I had to ring the bell twice more before the front door opened wider. A tall white dude with a bald head in nothing but pajamas bottoms and a chest he needed to cover stood there wiping his eyes. “Can I help you? Is the building on fire?” he asked, his voice filled with sleep.
“Daddy, your belly is shaking,” the little girl said with a giggle.
He looked down at his daughter, his eyes widening. “Becky,” he said in surprise before reaching out to take her hand from mine and then stoop down to her level.
“I was on my way out for the evening and I saw her sitting in the window at the end of the hall, and I thought a little girl her age shouldn’t be wandering the hall by herself at night,” I said, definitely throwing my proper English at him.
He looked up at me, pausing at the sight of my thighs and longs legs before he looked back at his daughter. “What were you doing out in the hall?” he asked, his hands on her shoulders.