“Everybody else introduced themselves,” he began. “Yet, none of us heard your name. Playing by the rules can be fun sometimes. Give it a try. Care to state it so we can become at least a little familiar?”
“It’s Melissa,” she spat, as dry as the dessert sand.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, that we’ve gotten that out of the way, Melissa. My good friend came up with the stage name for me. It’s a play on my real last name.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “It made sense, and it made it for good fun.” Marco took a few seconds to take a sip from his glass. After replacing the glass, he stood from the seat he’d occupied for the past hour and a half and walked to the edge of the stage. “Shine the light on Melissa, please!” he called out. Once the light was on Melissa, he smiled and thanked the engineer. “As far you not seeing easels and paint brushes in my act. I have a different kinda tool that I paint walls with.”
“Ohhh! My! Goddd! Yesss!” were just some of the reactions that roared through the crowded room.
Marco knew the chaos he’d created. He grabbed his crotch, and the room erupted into more thunderous cheers. When they died down, some two or so minutes later, he concluded.
“Melissa . . . my tool creates some of the most beautiful designs you’ll ever see. You want a date with it?”
THE GRAFFITI EFFECT
A Novel by Perri Forrest
-1-
MARCO GRAF
Cyn City Adult Lounge, Las Vegas, NV
“Fuuuck! That shit was fire, tonight! Good luck with keeping that same momentum going, Graffiti!”
I didn’t need to turn around to look to see who it was addressing me. It was Jeffrey Smith, also known as Majesty. He had just come off the stage from his performance. He was one-fifth of the Wolf Pack. He was a pain in the ass that felt the need to get my attention as much as possible. Jealousy was the reason that after every show, he showed his face. It was sad, because his envy of me didn’t even allow the space for him to see just how stupid he looked and sounded.
“Oh, not enough attention on stage tonight, Jeffrey. You’ve gone so far as to seek male attention now?” I stood up from the leather chair in my dressing room and walked to where he was. “Sorry, bro. I don’t go that way. But there’s a few clubs down the way where I’m sure you’ll get all the attention you need. They might even violate your sphincter for a small fee.”
“You got a lot of mouth, dude,” he charged.
“What, you thought I was pussy? Am I supposed to not say shit when you make it a point to trespass on my territory? You do see the name on the door, right? Not my fault that your door has five names on it.”
“What’s going on here?” Brutus the club’s security asked, towering just inches below the threshold of the doorway. “Majesty, what’s up?” he asked, knowing that Majesty was instigating a situation, as always.
“Not shit,” Majesty said, turning on his heel and walking past Brutus without looking back.
After he’d disappeared, Brutus started laughing. “Y’all crazy, man.”
“Shit, he’s the crazy one. I don’t even pay that dude any mind. He’s on some other shit. Cyn might need to incorporate a mental health plan in the benefit package.”
Brutus laughed his way out of the room, but not before shouting, “Graffiti Effect!”
I walked out behind him and started to make my way down the long hallway that led to the spiral staircase I needed to take to the second level of the club. At the top, my buddy Sebastian, who was also a part of the Wolf Pack, was coming down, probably from the DJ’s booth.
“Aye, dude!” he said, slapping hands with me. “You hear that out there?”
I smiled. “Yeah, man.”
“Get out there and kill that shit. We got the clits throbbin’. Now, you can go and get them panties soaked. I’ll see you in VIP.”
“Cool. Thanks bro.”
After a quick stop to talk to my Deejay, I was atop my podium. The lights cut in the club and the floor below illuminated. I stood, legs apart, hands clasped between my legs. My head was bowed and covered with my hoodie. As the podium descended to the lower level, the music began to play.
♫
Wrist, drip, wrist, dip
Wrist, drip, wrist, drippin' and drippin'
Wrist skrr, skrr tip, four tip, wrist
No, he not ballin' like us, who the fuck he think he is?
No, he not ballin' like us, who the fuck he think he is?
♫
CJ cut the beat and followed behind the chorus with one more, “Who the fuck he think he is?!” As the women were screaming and applauding, he yelled, “Graffiti Effect!”
After CJ got it hyped, the crowd picked up with the chant, screaming “Graffiti Effect!” on repeat.
I loved hearing it. I would never get tired of it. I leaped the few inches from the podium and down to the stage. Simultaneously, I yanked the hoodie off and stared out into my crowd. “Graffiti!” they screamed. That was CJ’s cue to start the music once again. And it was my cue to begin what I loved—dancing. First up, was what I opened all my shows with, my trademark body-tick. It was showtime . . .
♫
I know you've been goin' through some things
I know you don't even love the same, do you, do you?
I know you've been runnin' on empty, runnin' on empty
♫
Looking out into the crowd, it looked like one big party with everyone on their feet and dancing along with Big Sean’s bass-filled, “I Know”. It sounded like a baritone—complete with an echo—that I was sure vibrated the walls and could be heard behind the padding. Before long, I pulled my jacket all the way off, exposing my bare chest. Showing off my pack always drove the women crazy. Crazy.
♫
The way you move it's like you could use a vacation
Drinking in your hands and the harder you dance
I swear right now it look like you on a vacation
Gotta get away, make it happen
Whatever happened just had to happen
On vacation, yeah
♫
There was nothing left but faded jeans, part of the fly undone just enough for them to see my powder white briefs. I knew that their greatest wish was that I’d go full-frontal. But my show didn’t include that. Exotic dancing was what I did. Created a fantasy for them with moves that often included bringing them onstage. Showing my dick was something that only a select few saw—never for public display. Needed to leave something to the imagination.
♫
Dancin', dancin' dancin' like you fucking got a reason
Dancing like it's something to believe in
Dancing like it's fuckin' dancing season
Blame it on the alcohol or blame it on sativa
♫
My set was only a thirty-minute set; though, sometimes I went over depending on the vibe of my crowd. Tonight, was such a night. I took my act into the audience, which I rarely did because believe it or not, women could be aggressive as fuck, and go to touch areas they know they shouldn’t. But after Jeffrey felt the need to talk shit, I wanted to irritate his ass even more. This extension of my show, would do just that.
Usually, after I was done, I exited the stage and hit the shower before I joined the meet and greet. My absence gave insecure Jeffrey, first dibs on the ladies that were gullible enough to eat up his weak game. Right now, he was probably backstage seething that I went over my time. That was the intent.
He started it, and I was going to finish it. So, tonight, his time with the fans would be delayed.
-2-
KASSIDI “KASS” HENSON
Bay Area, California
“Daaamn, boy. Is there ever a time that you don’t feel good?”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I pedaled my feet across the soft sheets beneath me. Excitement filled my body as I reveled in the aftermath of two beautiful orgasms. I felt like a giddy young girl who had just lost her virginity to the boy she tho
ught she could never get. And every time I looked at Jamie, or the amazing carat he’d put on my ring finger, I honestly felt that way.
“I try my best, sweet thang,” he said.
I admired him lovingly, as he stood in the mirror attempting to make sense of the silver tie underneath the collar of his white dress shirt. Even without taking a whiff, his scent tickled my senses from across the room. The man was successful, could dress, was handsome, and had me completely addicted to him in every way. From the way he courted me in the very beginning—by actually, dating me! To the way he surprised me with a marriage proposal one night while we were out on date number eight.
“Yeah, you did that, sir.”
“I wasn’t the only one there, wild woman. We both rode that rollercoaster.”
I giggled. “Yeah, I guess I should claim my credit too.”
“Damn right. Own it. You still try to hide behind that innocence you thought you needed to be wifed.”
“Huh?!” I said, genuinely astonished. “Wifed? You got me fucked up with that one. I wasn’t ever tryin’ to—”
“Kass, stop it,” he jumped in. “Yes, you were. I ain’t mad at you, though.”
What the fuck?! The way he made it seem was that I trapped him into proposing to me! What damn day and time did he think we lived in where a woman could trick a man into marriage?! I was right at the edge of popping off, but then stopped myself. This moment was one of the few good ones we’d had lately. With so little time left to the wedding, I didn’t want to fuel any fire. So, I digressed. At least I tried to.
“Okay, Jamie,” I responded, casually. “You win.”
“I’m not trying to win anything, baby. I’m just stating facts. You tried to play that whole innocent role by attempting to keep the goods to yourself for three months, but then gave in after three weeks.” He started laughing, which felt a lot like ridicule. “I knew when you got on my stick that you were one of . . . those.”
I was about to go off on him when out the blue he put his hands on his hips and started slow-grinding in the mirror, singing:
♫
If you’re horny, let’s do it!
My saddle’s waitin’! Come and jump—”
♫
“Such a damn mess!” I shouted playfully, in the middle of his chorus. My cheeks pushed into the biggest smile I could produce. Laughter came easy, seeing him be so silly. He really was a fun person when he wanted to be. “If you didn’t have to go, I would get back on that pony!”
“See! There she is! Own it, baby.”
“Mmhmm, you’re right. I own my freak!” I chanted playfully.
He took a second away from his tie and turned to look at me. “That’s what’s up, baby! You know what else you should own?”
I smiled coyly. “What’s that?” I asked, looking down at his package from across the room.
“That your dome game could put you in the millionaire’s club.”
“Jamie! You did . . . not sayyy that!”
“Shit, like hell I didn’t,” he commented turning back to the mirror to finalize his shirt situation. “Feels like you’re sucking the life out of me, and then giving it right back!” He turned around again to face me and chucked. “Have a brotha in and out of consciousness. You a head doctor, girl. Got a damn PhD in it. I’m blessed as hell.”
“See! Ohhh my God! And I was gonna try to lure you back in bed with me, but now, I need you to hurry up and get dressed and be on your way.”
“Why, woman?” he teased. “The truth ain’t on your agenda this morning?”
I rolled onto my stomach, and I lifted up on my elbows, glaring across the room at him. I was starting to feel some type of way about the way he was going on and on. I covered my face with both hands and released a puff of air.
“Is that why you’re marrying me, Jamie? So, you can get your dick sucked right?”
“Whoa! Hold the hell up. What just happened?”
“I asked you a question. Answer it. I mean, first you imply that I tricked you into proposing, and then this.”
“You’re playin’ . . . right?”
“No, I’m not playin’, Jamie. I’m dead-ass serious.”
“You just switched the crazy on. I ain’t ready for that shit.”
“Call it what you want to.”
“You sound crazy, Kassidi.” He commenced to tucking his shirt inside his slacks. “Why would I need to give you a ring and my last name . . . just to get dome? I really need you to tell me you’re joking right now.”
I went mute. I returned to lying on my back and stared up at the ceiling, pondering. Didn’t say a word as Jamie finished getting dressed. Moments later, him and his Unforgivable by Sean John, entered my space. Unforgivable. How fitting for the moment, we were in. I didn’t acknowledge his presence. I was still conferring with my thoughts.
“Kassidi,” he said in a low voice, towering over me. When I didn’t answer, he called out again. “Kassidi.”
“What?” I snapped, wanting him to leave so that I could marinate in my interpretation.
“So, you really have an attitude about what I said?”
I finally looked up at him. “Yeah, I do have an attitude. If I said some shit like that to you—”
“I wouldn’t care,” he stressed. “I would know it’s all in fun, and not trip. Especially, not taking it as far as you are right now. Shit is childish, Kass.”
“Oh, so now I’m childish too!”
“Hell yeah!” he shot, with conviction.
“Hmm, so now I’m also childish. Don’t that make you something of a fuckin’ pedophile, then?”
“What the fuck?! Yeah, I’m done with this retarded-ass conversation. Done as fuck.”
“Oh, struck a nerve?”
“Struck all a’dem muthafuckas! You 51-50 as hell! We just made good love—a few times—and then you manage to find a slot to pick an argument. You need to quit that shit.” He walked away from the side of the bed and grabbed his cell and keys from the dresser. “For real. When you’re ready to calm down off this shit, call me. I just might answer the goddamn phone.”
After that, he walked out the room and shortly after I heard the front door close behind him.
-3-
JAMIE DAVIS
It wasn’t until Jamie got into the driver’s seat of his vehicle, that he really pondered on what had just happened between him and Kassidi. In the moment that it was all happening, he wasn’t too fazed because to him the shit was an unnecessary occurrence. Why get mad at the fact that he said she sucked good dick?! It’s not like he’d called her a hoe, or anything like that. Or even asked her how she got to be so damn good at it. That would’ve been cause for her ass to get mad about the shit.
“I wasn’t lying about that shit,” he mumbled, in frustration.
As far as Jamie was concerned, the only thing that should’ve been on her mind was becoming a goddamn wife. But lately, whether it was nerves about the wedding or what, she seemed to be making small situations into big ones, whenever the hell she could. There were a few times that he wished they were still in the ‘implied’ commitment stage. The one where it wasn’t a requirement to fix shit when it got to dumb-ass points. Who had time for that shit? He surely didn’t, and had already decided that he wasn’t going to feed into it.
There were a few times where Jamie almost called shit off with Kassidi. She was too hot and cold. Couple that with the ongoing battle with his sister and aunt . . . it was all too damn much at times. He wondered sometimes if he was headed for disaster. When Kassidi acted as she had today, it made Jamie question why he was even fighting the fight. Was this just the prelude of what was to come? Neither his sister, nor his aunt favored the woman he had planned to marry. They couldn’t stand Kassidi and didn’t feel that she was good enough for him. A few times he had let their words get in his head, but then he’d take one look at Kassidi and dismiss all the warning signs.
In short, she was a beautiful woman. And not that Jamie felt he co
uldn’t get a beautiful woman. But this one came with things he needed at that point in his life. For the most part, she was obedient. She cooked, she cleaned, she catered to him. She made him feel needed and like he would be first in her life—above everything, and anybody. She was ready to take on a role where she would be making him her main purpose. Not to mention the obvious—she was a great gobbler! Shit! Facts were facts.
Jamie’s dick rose against his slacks, poking him aggressively, as he thought back to the sex-session they’d had a short while ago. The way she wrapped her thick brown legs around his waist and let him in as deep as her ocean would allow. Then looking down into her dark-brown eyes as she whispered his name at peak, was insane. The supple breasts that he suckled until her brown skin bruised, were a large part of his weakness—even more than the thickness of her plump ass. Yes, Kassidi was thick as fuck, kinda thin in the waist, and pretty in the face.
The night Jamie met her at a club in San Francisco, he couldn’t stop looking at her. She was with a group of her friends, but she was the flyest one in the bunch. She wore a pair of faded blue skinny jeans that laid on her ass like a professionally wrapped Christmas gift. Pink high-heeled pumps, and a pink fitted top that dipped at the back near her bra strap. The front of the top also fell, giving a mere tease of her cleavage. She had just enough revealed to pique his curiosity, and covered up just enough for him to know that she had some morals and values about her.
Her mane of hair was for sure a main attraction with wild, loose curls that kissed her shoulder blades, and fell around her face in a seductive way. She was a natural beauty. Jamie kept his eyes on her as she danced with different men, engaging in a little bit of flirting. Not once did she give out her number, though. He knew because he kept a close watch just to see.
The Graffiti Effect Page 2