by N'Tyse
This girl is hella freaky.
“Touch me,” she begged. Her head was down below, and she pretended to give me a head job. “Touch me,” she said again.
I wanted to so badly, but I didn’t want to violate the bond Rene and I had. But I was already violating it. I had the word lust written all over my face. I ached to feel every part of her, wanting to introduce myself to her. She was throwing that pussy at me, dry fucking the hell out of my legs and knees. She climbed onto my lap and ground her ass swiftly back and forth to the tempo. The temptation that this yellow bone stallion fed out had won me over. I gave in. I found my hands glued to her ass, bouncing it up and down, back and forth, rocking it with the beat, and my head was in between her breasts. I hoped that she’d jiggle her titties some more. When the song “Grind with Me,” by Pretty Ricky, went off, she quickly stood up and gathered all the denominations of bills that had been thrown her way. Everyone was clapping and bragging on her performance, waving me high fives as I passed them by.
I headed toward the bathroom to try to wipe off some of that lipstick and silver glitter that she had left behind on my T-shirt during her exotic lap dance. It was evidence that Rene could use to convict me of cheating on her. Once inside the bathroom, I wet a paper towel, then attempted to wash away the lipstick stain. That didn’t work. Now I was walking around with a big-ass smeared red mark that had only gotten bigger and some glitter that had me sparkling like I was the one who was doing the entertaining. So now the shirt had to come off, but I was still flossed down. I had on my white wife beater, blue jean shorts, and my solid white Jordans. I was still dressed to impress and flossed to defrost. Rene had braided my hair going sideways and had added white beads to the ends.
As I was walking out of the hallway bathroom, I heard my girl Chyna holla my name. She was trying to catch up with me. Pushing her way through the crowd. Now Chyna was what we gal-guys called a stud princess. She did not act or dress like a dude, but she played the part. She dressed so feminine that it wouldn’t have even crossed anyone’s mind that she was on the other side. And assumptions would get guys nowhere if they were trying to holla or, better yet, get some ass. However, don’t get it twisted with the label stud princess. There was nothing sensitive or soft about her at all. If her girl talked shit or got outta line, she got bitch slapped with the quickness. She did the shit so fast, no one would see it coming.
Chyna filled the shoes of a man but also walked in heels and miniskirts. She was a force that couldn’t be reckoned with. I had heard from people in the streets that she had cut a girl’s throat and sliced her tongue for disrespecting her in the presence of another pimp. But more than that, fucking with a nigga after you had been fucking with Chyna was a fat-ass no-no. She wasn’t letting no nigga cut in to what she had to create. If she chose to rent out one of her girls or sell them to a pimp, the ho got taxed and so did the pimp. She was money hungry and hit people where she knew it hurt—in the pockets.
Some of them girls Chyna had working for her, she found on the streets of downtown Dallas. She had taken them in, nourished them, trained them, and taught them how to get out there and use their bodies to get what she wanted. She educated them on life and the things needed to survive in it. She wrote the book on female pimping and was a natural-born hustler. When people opened their mouths to talk, she already knew what was coming out. She called all the shots and ran all the shows. Her motto was “Once mines, always mines.”
If one of her girls tried to leave her, that was her ass. Chyna had to be the one to do the ditching, and she would ditch a girl when she was damn well ready after using her for everything she could get out of her, and that was just all to it. She was the overseer of any drug-related deal and was still capable of street monitoring her women. She had at least a dozen of them trickin’ niggas off. Chyna was a dime piece, and she made sure everyone recognized and respected that. Her women had to be dime pieces as well or at least had to have the potential to be molded into one. And nobody got to play with her toys unless they paid or had her permission.
“What’s up, pimpin’?” I said as I checked out her attire. She wore a fitted pin-striped suspender pantsuit with a short-sleeved white blouse underneath and a matching hat that had white and black feathers sprouting from the side. She looked like she was in the damn Mafia or something. Her look was dominant and businesslike, which made it easy for her to be perceived as a bitch who was all about her money and hoes. Her sexy hourglass figure was the envy of most women. Her nails were short and well manicured, and she rocked some open-toe sandals that matched her black-and-white hookup. She didn’t carry purses, but I was sure that if she did, they would match too. When she opened her mouth to speak, all that could be seen was a mouth full of platinum princess-cut pink diamonds crushed in each one of her teeth, top and bottom.
“Say, Sand, I have a business proposition for you.” She was direct and straightforward with her approach. I already knew what time it was. I had to brace myself.
“What’s that, Chyna? What you got up your sleeve now?”
“Sand, I got some hoes around the way who are willing to do whatever I ask them to do to get me this paper.”
“What you talking about doing? You already got the hood on lock. Everybody knows whose hoes them are on the scene.”
She shook her head. “Nah, Sand. I need somebody like you on my team. You see, I know you hungry. And you get down with me, I’m gon’ make damn sure you eat. Feel me? I’m talking about expanding my network. Besides, it’s too much money in this for me to be getting it all.”
I looked at her with a smirk. “You damn right you getting it all.” See, I had one thing over Chyna, and that was a business mind. She conducted business on another level. If someone fucked up or off, they got that ass broken in anal, with no lubrication. She didn’t care if she had to pay somebody to do her dirty work. Business was business, and she wasn’t letting nobody fuck up her shit. Oh, and she didn’t bar no dude. Another pimp trying to threaten her wasn’t even happening. She had police, detectives, lawyers, and judges who were looking out for her. Everybody was on her payroll. Her uncle was one of the largest dope dealers in Dallas. That was before he got set up. And rumor had it that it was by his own lawyer. I heard he had millions stashed away. But all that’s ghost history. If you were caught talking about that shit, you were a suspected snitch, and everyone knew what happened to snitches.
Chyna knew she was the queen bee, and they did too. She had extreme confidence in knowing she owned the women, and that made her feel like she owned the whole fucking world. But I had tapped into her little so-called escorting service a long time ago. I had watched her and had peeked at how she ran things. Idolizing the twenty-seven-year-old, I had critiqued everything she did and had seen all her flaws. She was too wide open, and even though she had hoes on her team, that didn’t mean she had down-ass hoes on her team. They just needed somewhere to lay their heads at night, and she provided that, nothing more. I had heard her hoes complaining to other hoes all the time about how they were fed up with Chyna. They were pissed that she was the only one getting money. Some were just plain tired of stripping and working the streets all around but were too afraid to leave her. They would whine to each other but dared not threaten Chyna by leaving, because they knew there would be consequences and repercussions.
I declined her offer and told her I already had solo business projects lined up. She basically needed someone to manage her fuckups and serve as an underpaid sidekick. The truth was, I was on some more shit. I had shit lined up all right. Me and my girl were about to be living large. I gave Chyna some dap to make sure she was cool with me turning down her offer. She gave it back, and then I knew there were no hard feelings.
I walked around James’s big-ass condo, which he had been renting since he moved to Dallas. He lived in a two-thousand-square-foot unit by his damn self and swore up and down he couldn’t be happier. He told me he had a young piece of meat that would come through on the regular,
but to keep her from getting too comfy in his shit, he was paying for her town house across town.
I checked my cell and saw I had seven missed calls from Rene. I quickly called her. “What’s up, babe? You a’ight?”
“I’m fine, but what time are you coming home? I miss you.”
“I’ll be there in another hour or so,” I told her. I could tell she was becoming irritated. We hadn’t been away from each other for more than just a few hours since I moved in, and she was home alone, missing me like crazy. I adored the thought.
“Well, I wish you’d hurry on up. I’m beginning to feel a little neglected,” she purred.
“I’ll be there soon,” I kept reassuring her. We hung up with “I love yous,” and I walked back into my party.
Peaches was giving James and Spliff a table dance, and two other strippers had joined in. The party was getting real crunk, and everybody was having fun. I posted up at the bar and poured me a glass of vodka. The DJ slowed the party down again with R. Kelly’s “12 Play.” And again the hunt was on.
I grabbed a fine-ass girl who was right in front of me. I had a drink in one hand and was trying to twist her around toward me with the other. She backed her ass up to me real slow and sexy like. When she turned around, my face dropped and my hazel eyes went squint. I was sure that the smoke from the weed and the cigarettes that were being puffed on all night had affected my vision. To my surprise, there stood a caramel-colored woman with an out-of-this-world body, in a sexy net piece. I had seen the woman before. If it hadn’t been on the streets, it had been in my dreams. Then I remembered. It was her. The chick who had slipped me her number at Sophisticated Images.
She smiled, watching me as I stood there, shocked and in disbelief. She continued to dance, her body rocking to the beat. I was grinding on her ass, imagining what she had on under that net. I was trying to behave myself, but I was gon’ let my imagination run as wild as it wanted to. I pictured her wearing a sheer thong with a matching lace bra. I was trying like hell to see all that her net was exposing. She had her hands up in the air and was sliding up and down on me to the music, swaying that ass like a belly dancer. I was enjoying every minute of her show. I looked around the room, and everyone on the dance floor was coupled up with somebody. Some of the men had them a woman, and some of the studs had theirs. Everyone was having a nice time.
Jasmine was hot. Her short hair was slicked all back, unlike the time I had seen her at work, and she was rocking some small gold hoop earrings. At that moment she had all my attention. I grooved with her until R. Kelly went off and H-Town came on. The DJ sure was trying to get some shit started up in here tonight. I could feel it. Jasmine and I shared a secret vibe. She kept on dancing, allowing the music to get her loose, while I was still sippin’ on my drink and rubbin’ on that ass.
Sand
My mind had been blown away from the night before. The drinks had got to me so bad, I could hardly remem-ber what all went down. I let the warm water streaming from the showerhead slap me in the face. Images kept fucking with me and creeping into my mind as I replayed last night. I remember Peaches, and I damn sure could recall Jasmine, and I remembered the guest bedroom.
I shook off the possibilities and pretended that what I was sure had gone down had not happened. I didn’t even know these women that well. How could I be so stupid? I wanted to slap the shit out of myself until I bled. I wanted to feel some sort of pain. I didn’t even care if it was self-inflicted and on the suicidal edge. I wanted to ram my head into the shower glass and cause myself some serious head damage. I wanted to grab one of Rene’s razors from under the cabinet and cut my wrists. I felt so stupid.
I had betrayed the one woman who had stood by my side. The woman who had always stuck by me through hard times.
She had endured being made the laughingstock at work and being humiliated every day just for being in love. She had never just come out and said she was gay. Then one day they had seen me drop her off at work. We had smothered each other with wet, long kisses before she could get out of the car good. It had taken only one guy to become the rumor starter.
Rene already knew her coworkers thought she was gay, because she would respectively decline her boss’s passes at her. She would tell him she was involved with someone, and when they never saw anyone else take her to and pick her up from work every day, they knew it had to be me. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, but I sometimes felt that I was robbing Rene of the opportunity to discover her own sexuality.
I eventually made her quit that job so I could take care of her. I wanted to prove to her that I would never leave her side and that she could count on me because I was worthy. She was my energy, my air. I thought about all the good times we had shared and everything she had ever sacrificed. Everything I loved and admired about her and our relationship hadn’t meant a thing last night. I had fucked up big-time.
I was in the shower for over an hour, and I could tell because the water started to run cold. I stepped out of the shower quietly, then tried to ease my way into the living room without waking Rene. I knew she would be up any minute, once she realized I was no longer next to her. I crept back into the bedroom after I was fully clothed and climbed back on my side of the bed. Only seconds after my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
Jasmine was talking to me, and in walked Peaches, appearing out of nowhere. I couldn’t catch a break, and James’ bedroom was the last place I needed to be spotted with two chicks. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Peaches asked. Her smile was real crooked, and I was almost glad she had walked in so Jasmine could get off my jock.
I hoped that Peaches’s entrance would start Jasmine on a whole new subject or, better yet, downplay her freaky groove. She had gone on and on about how she was digging me and wanted to be down with me. She had even gone as far as to say that she didn’t give a damn if I had a girl. Now, I wasn’t new to the game, but I surely was new to the scene. I thought I had misunderstood her when she insisted on being with me, knowing that I had a woman at home. I tried to shake her, but those damn lips and that smile melted me all over again. She scooted closer and closer to me, trying to squeeze her way into my space. I rubbed my chin and watched her closely. She started removing her clothes like there wasn’t nothing to it but to do it. First went her net and then the short dress she had on underneath. I watched her remove her panties and bra, and she did this without minding that Peaches was nearby, in the restroom, and capable of walking in. I smiled, shaking my head, trying to prematurely withdraw myself from what was about to go down.
“Come on, Mama,” I told her. We both had had one too many drinks. The liquor was talking to me, and I could tell that the Hpnotiq had already spoken to her. She forced me back onto the bed. She began slow dancing and shaking her ass in front of me, as the music could still be heard through the walls. She flipped the light switch, dimmed the lights a little bit more than they had been, and climbed on top of me. Her legs straddled me loosely, and she was ass naked. She pressed her perky titties in my face and forced me to enjoy it. I tried not to, but the drink was still doing its thang. I placed the empty glass on the nightstand and watched her like a thief in the night.
Even though it was dark as hell, I could still see her from the light that crept from underneath the bathroom door. All of a sudden that light vanished. I lay back, still trying to talk Jasmine up off me, but the fight in me had left. I was too weak and vulnerable. Wanting but not wanting. Needing some pussy but not being able to get to it. She slid her hands up and down my body, positioned my hands onto her soft, round ass. She wanted me to feel every thrusting movement she made. I tried to sit up. She pushed me back, forcing me to lie down, and suddenly climbed onto my face and glided herself down easily and steadily. Next, I felt pubic hairs tickling my chin and riding my face.
This isn’t Rene, I kept reminding myself. I forced my head back and tried to turn away, telling her, “We can’t do this.”
“Uh-u
h, baby. I want you. I need you. I saw how you were looking at me. I know you want this. James paid for this pussy for you to enjoy tonight, so I’m delivering it.”
I finally caught the voice, and it was no longer Jasmine who was on top of me, but it was Peaches. She fucked and rode my face like a pro. The next thing I knew, she tried to go down on me, but I refused. When she saw how quickly I jumped the hell up, she knew what time it was. Figuring I had never been touched down there, she avoided the area. I looked to my right, because I could feel another body lying there. It was Jasmine. I could tell by that sweet vanilla scent that had been on her body all night. She was lying next to me, holding my right hand and finger fucking herself with her other hand. These women were as wild as they came.
I better get my ass up out of here while I still can. I tried to help myself by easing up, but Peaches was on my leg once again, trying to spread her pussy juices. She had also removed all her clothing and was humping me like a dog in heat.
“Come on. Take your clothes off,” they both kept saying.
I knew if I did that, things would only get worse. Jasmine was still at my side, pulling at my boxers, playing with her nipples. Peaches was in between Jasmine’s legs, getting her grub on, allowing me the pleasure of watching. Jasmine moaned in pleasure and pulled and dug her nails into my arms with every movement that Peaches made. She had to be going to work down there, because I was certain that Jasmine had my damn arm bleeding. I was ready for her to reach her orgasm so I could get the fuck up and be gone.
Just as the thought entered my mind, Peaches said, “Now, this is not right. Jazzy. We are having too much fun, and Sand here ain’t participatin’. How rude of us.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I’m enjoying myself, really, so you girls go right on ahead and keep doin’ what you doin’.”