Thong on Fire

by Noire

  Tai sucked her teeth. “You need to stop tripping. Your uncle gives you almost everything you ask for. You ain’t gotta grind with no corner boys unless you want to.”

  “Well, maybe I want to then! So what? Guys like to fuck and they wanna fuck me. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Look, Saucy,” she said while trying to hold her breath. She pulled on the blunt again then blew the smoke out toward the window. “I’m just saying, okay? You ain’t gotta fuck everybody just because they wanna fuck you. I know you been through a lot girl. You told me about that dyke King and what she used to do to you. But that one horrible thing ain’t gotta rule your whole life girl! You don’t have to sell your body short just because one person took advantage of it.”

  I stared at her like she was mental. I knew what the real problem was. Tai was jealous. She had a flat ass and knocked-knees, and didn’t no real playa wanna be seen with her. We had been best friends since I moved downtown, and over the years my slim package had gotten phatter while Tai’s apple frame had just gotten fatter. She wore dope clothes for a big girl, and kept her hair and nails done, but she coulda actually been cute if she stopped eating so damn much. Tai was my girl but she had zero self-confidence, and what cool hustler wanted to fuck somebody who had corn chips stuck in their teeth and a stomach that was four times bigger than their ass?

  “I don’t fuck with everybody, Tai. And that bitch King wasn’t the only one who got with me, either. Girl, I been fuckin’ since I was six years old! Kimichi used to put me in bed between her and Mr. Warren, and when he got up to leave we’d have enough cash to eat for a month. Plus I used to ride that little dick popping outta Mister Jack’s box just like it was a pony. How you think we kept our lights turned on in Harlem? Ain’t nothing wrong with fuckin’ as long as you getting something out of it, Tai. Rememer that. You oughtta stop letting that nigga Geoffrey bust all them free nuts up in you without giving you nothing but hickeys to show for it.”

  “Shut up! I get stuff from Geoff. Just because I don’t throw all his goods in your face don’t mean he ain’t dishing it out.”

  I looked at Tai, and then at the platinum tennis bracelet I was sporting on my left wrist. She had no clue that it was her man Geoff who had paid for this shit. I had his stupid behind wide open just like all the other guys in our school, and when he showed me the bracelet he’d been planning to give to Tai, I gave him a real good reason to change his mind and slide it to me instead.

  After Tai sprayed some air freshener around the room and I checked my shit out in the mirror, we booked, creeping out as quietly as we could. Tai’s mother hated the sight of me. Back when I was twelve she had hallucinated up some crazy shit, and for years I had sworn to her and Tai that it wasn’t true. I had been standing next to Tai’s father one day, just looking out their living room window, when Tai’s moms came in and started wildin’. She was screaming and swinging on Mr. Watkins like a maniac. She told Tai she’d caught me grinding my ass around while Mr. Watkins had his hand stuck down inside the back of my shorts. It took me two whole years to convince Tai that her mother had been seeing things and that shit wasn’t true.

  We left our building and ran toward the train station, and pretty soon we were uptown in Harlem and I was feeling grand. As much as I had hated Harlem as a little kid, I couldn’t stay away from it now. The aura of this neighborhood was right and relaxing to me. I’d been born here and it was good to be home. All the action was up here, and I was definitely a girl after some action. If I felt like cruising these streets and Tai didn’t wanna hang, I didn’t even sweat it. I would hop my ass in a cab in a minute and ride up to Harlem to see how many corner niggas I could pick up.

  Me and Tai could always get our young asses up inside one of Harlem’s clubs, but sometimes they got extra and refused to sell us any liquor. We wasn’t taking no chances tonight, so we stopped at a corner liquor store to get some mini Bacardis before going inside.

  “You got ’em turning heads,” the dude at the counter said when I tried to show him my cute hips and round ass instead of a photo ID. I had on a thin mint-green shirt with a slit all the way up the middle and no bra, and his eyes were zooming in on my nipples. “You might be old enough to fuck, but you sure ain’t old enough to drink.”

  Well, I was already doing a whole lot of both, and of course my little ass was heading for trouble in a major way. Inside the club we partied as hard as we could. I was on the dance floor screaming out all the hot rap lyrics I’d studied and memorized, hooks, verses, bridges, the whole shit. The DJ threw on a slow stripper song called “Envy” by Reem Raw and Robb Hawk, and the guy I was dancing with pulled me into a deep nasty grind and started whispering it all in my ear.

  Look what I found,

  Pretty brown,

  Yeah I gotta have!

  Her bottom half’ll have you digging out ya pocket stash!

  She got a latch on my soul,

  The way her body wrap ’round a pole

  With her ass out on roll,

  Her passionate stroll got my shit on brick,

  Them glossy lips will make a nigga trick off chips!

  Her eyes telling me she wanna come sit on this,

  Everybody in the spot tryna hit on Miss!

  So I gotta strategize,

  Feel the vibe when she passing by,

  No lie, she can send me home satisfied,

  Her frame’s mean…everything that I fantasized…

  Gotta step to her, let her know that I can handle mine!

  Yeah I can see why they envy ya baby!

  Now pull ya benjies out, start tippin my baby! My baby!

  My baby! My baby!

  He whispered that shit so hot and freaky in my ear that I didn’t even protest when he pulled me into a booth and started tonguing me down. He smelled like a real man and his lips were so soft! He reached under my shirt and rubbed my titties until my nipples started aching, and when his hand trailed down to my lap and he slipped his fingers under my skirt, my pussy was nice and wet. I let him slide two of them up in me, and as he massaged my clit with his thumb, I arched my back, then reached under the table, found his lap, and squeezed his rock until I came.

  “Saucy!” I pulled away from ol’ boy as Tai slapped me so hard on my shoulder that she damn near broke a bone. Her face was sweaty and all her curls had fell. “What y’all doing hemmed up in this corner? I thought you came to dance, girl!”

  Dude slid his fingers outta my pussy and I laughed and kissed his lips again. Tai dragged me back out on the dance floor and I got back in my club groove. Near the end of the night so many niggas had passed me dutches that my head started hurting. I switched up and starting drinking Alizé when one of the dudes who was clocking me started buying me double shots, and I made sure he spent some real money too.

  By the time the club started emptying out I was blasted. All I wanted to do was get me some hot wings or something, then go home and black the hell out. I hadn’t meant to stay out all night, but the sun was already coming up when we stepped outside. But when I staggered into the crib at six in the morning Aunt Ruthie was up waiting for me. She called herself fed up enough to open her mouth and get in my business. She convinced Uncle Swag that I needed some boundaries laid down and he went for it. She said I was shopping too much, and as smart as I was, my grades were slipping in school. She accused me of being spoiled, selfish, and ungrateful. She told him no teenager needed as much jewelry, shoes, CDs, and money as I had.

  Uncle Swag put his foot down and declared that my ass was now on a curfew and a strict budget. Fifty dollars a week. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

  “Saucy, baby girl you gotta slow down just a little, okay? I know you like going out and having fun with your friends and that’s cool. It really is. Just slow down a little, okay? You know you the only baby girl your uncle got left.”

  I got pissed off with Uncle Swag but I couldn’t stay mad with him because he acted like slapping rules on me was hurting him more tha
n it hurt me. See, my uncle was the only person in the world who understood how fucked up my life had been before Paris died and I moved downtown. I’d gone through some shit no little girl should have to go through. Because of that trifling ass Kimichi, all kinds of fingers had been in my young pussy. Dicks too. Grown tongues had licked all over my clit. The hardest part about all of that had been the feelings it turned on in me, even when I was too young to understand what those feelings were all about.

  But young or not, I knew what felt good to me, and right after I entered the eleventh grade I hooked up with a guy named Plat from 112th Street and got my first real good fuck that made me lose my mind.

  I had already been tricking all the wannabe’s I went to school with, but that was just for fun. I took their money and talked them into buying me gifts and stuff, but them young sons couldn’t handle the kind of nookie I was putting on them and I was always scared my uncle would find out. These fake cats played like they was hood, but they had housekeepers and whatnot at home, and jumped in limos when school was over and headed home to apartment buildings that had doormen waiting outside. Just like Uncle Swag and Aunt Ruthie, their folks had gotten some ends together and fled the hard life of Harlem, and they felt safe and protected in their Upper West Side world.

  But I was looking for a real thug nigga. Street-hard is what turned me on. And Harlem was full of that. I started sneaking uptown to get a glimpse of Plat every chance I got. He was tall and had a goatee and thick, muscled-up arms like Suge Knight. I got a thrill outta watching him do his thing on his corner grind. I knew he wasn’t no big-time hustler and he didn’t sit too far up the ladder of importance, but there was something real hot about that low-level action he was involved in, and I decided that Plat, with his smooth dark skin and piercing eyes, was gonna get him some of my goodies.

  Plat was the type of nigga who was into 69ing all night long, which was cool with me. His dick was kinda short, but it was real fat and I liked it. He would sit back and play with my hair while I wet that thing up and mopped it with my tongue, licking it from top to bottom. Plat liked his brain real juicy, so I would spit on his dick just a little bit so he could hear that slippery slurping sound that he loved so much. He was thicker than most men, and I could hardly put my whole hand around his meat, but I jerked it to that funky hot Saucy rhythm and Plat’s dick would just get harder and harder. As soon as I felt him getting ready to shoot, I would cup his big, heavy balls and suck on that dick like it was a sweet fat cucumber.

  When it was my turn, I would get on my hands and knees and back my big ass up to his face. Plat loved the feel of my ass. He’d smack it and watch it jiggle, massage it, tooting it up so he could look straight up my pussy and into my uterus, and y’all know he stuck them fingers up in there too. He’d start out with one, and by the time he got to drilling and tickling my G-spot, my stuff would be sopping wet, my juice dripping down his hand.

  He’d lay on his back and ease me down on his dick, then hold one of my ass cheeks in each of his big old hands while he lifted me up and glided me back down on his short dick, stretching my pussy wide with its thickness.

  “Saucy,” he would pant, reaching up to grab my bouncing titties as I pressed my palm against my pubic bone and played with my swollen clit, rubbing my warm juices all over it. “Put that pussy on me, girl! Yeah. Lay down, baby. Put them titties on me too.”

  Me and Plat fucked like little devils. Lapping, rubbing, digging. Biting and squeezing sticky flesh, body parts pulsating with mad sensations. He couldn’t get enough of me, and even though I preferred my pipers long, Plat was fat on the real, and I couldn’t get enough of him either!

  Ya know I had Plat feeling like a big willie. Whenever I came on the block he started acting all swole, slapping me all on my bouncy ass to let his boys know how hard he was knocking this out. All of those niggas was sprung on my looks, so of course my head got big. Plat was putting in work in all areas with his nice dick stroke and all the shit he bought me, but I was young and hot and it wasn’t long before my eye started shifting.

  I learned some street lessons when a cute guy from Lenox Avenue named Akbar caught my eye. He was a straight thief to the bone. Akbar taught me how to put on a girdle and boost from department stores, and how to slide a square’s wallet from his back pocket when his guard was down. Akbar told me that men took one look at a hottie like me and lost all their common sense.

  “Saucy, you got everything any man would want. You got the right face, the right body, and the right type of heat in your eyes too. You ain’t gone find a nigga, a chink, or a honkie out here on these streets who don’t wanna fuck you. You just gotta use that to your advantage and catch ’em with their dicks hard.”

  Akbar spent hours teaching me how to get next to a lame sucker and hustle him for his doe or yay without having to give up nothing but a fake smile and one or two little feels. He musta known what he was talking about because it worked damn near every time.

  Well, almost every time. Right after my seventeenth birthday I was scheming at a jewelry counter in Macy’s on Thirty-fourth Street, dazzling the young white clerk just like Akbar had taught me.

  “Gee,” he stammered as I tried on chain after gold chain. “They all look great on you.”

  I laughed inside. Damn right they did. I had on a real tight shirt that was cut so low my titties were bulging out like two round grapefruits. Like Akbar had said, the hand was quicker than the eye! This guy couldn’t take his eyes off my cleavage and I had already unhooked one chain and let it slip down inside my shirt and was working on getting another one.

  “Let me see that one over there.” I pointed. “No.” I shook my head as soon as he had it out the case. “I like that one over there better. No! Gimme that one too.”

  I had his head going and I knew it. He couldn’t keep his eyes off my hard nipples and I could almost see the drool sliding out the corner of his mouth.

  But whoever was in the back working the security cameras must have been on the job for real. After I smiled at the dumb white guy and told him thanks but no thanks, I started walking toward the door. Something told me to look back, and when I did I saw a wrinkle-faced white woman coming after me with a badge in her hand.

  Shit had gone wrong, but Akbar had schooled me well. I ducked into a row filled with old lady dresses and without slowing my stride, pulled my shirt away from my body, letting the chains slip down the inside of my shirt and fall out on the carpet. I strolled quickly through the store crisscrossing through several departments before heading toward the exit again, and I wasn’t surprised when I was stopped by two store detectives before I could make it outside.

  “Excuse me, miss. Can you come with me, please?”

  I wasn’t above nutting up and causing a whole big scene in public, but I decided to chill. After all, I knew the rules. I didn’t have a damn thing on me and no matter what they thought they saw, the bottom line was, they didn’t have a damn thing on me either.

  After that I decided to leave the boosting for the real thieves. Akbar’s game was small-time, and picking pockets and lifting shit from department stores wasn’t no honorable profession for a bad bitch like me.

  I was out one night popping my ass in an over-twenty-one club when I met Big Dip, and that’s when I really started understanding what the street game was all about. Dip was a drug man who was down with connects in Philly, Baltimore, and Virginia, and that nigga took one look at me and decided we were gonna make each other large.

  Dip taught me a whole lot about hustling. Working side by side, we started moving product and out-slicking some of the baddest niggas in New York. Beating them at their own gangsta game and walking away paid in full. Yeah, I was still a young thing, but hell. A city like this one never sleeps. New York, New York. You know what they say. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. But you gotta have a cutthroat mentality to come out on top on these ruthless streets. And the night Dip got popped I proved without a doubt that I was a cutthroat
Harlem baby to the max.

  There was no place I would rather be heading to on a Saturday night than deep into the night life of Harlem. Uncle Swag was working late and Aunt Ruthie was already sleeping. I’d snuck out of the apartment and past the doorman wearing my absolute best shit, and I knew I looked like a whole damn bankroll of dimes. I had on a short emerald-green low-rider DK skirt with a matching halter that dipped low in the front and had two horizontal straps in the back. My satin thong in the same color rested right below the two deep dimples above my ass, and had a row of diamonds running across the top. White gold with real diamonds hung from my ears and around my neck. Some eyeliner and just a little glossy lipstick passed for makeup ’cause my face was already hot. I had washed my hair and let it air dry into a cloud of curly ringlets, then rubbed some Pink Oil Moisturizer on my hands and tossed it around until it shined. Julie at the nail shop had tightened up my tips in emerald polish with diamond-chip swirls. My toenails had the same awesome design, and my long, sexy bowlegs was killing them.

  Bouncing out the lobby with my hips on high sway, I waved at Frank, the night doorman, and he tipped his hat my way. I wasn’t worried about him telling Uncle Swag a damn thing because me and Frank had an understanding. He understood not to open his fuckin’ mouth about all my coming and going, and I understood not to open my mouth about all his coming. In the building’s administration office. Late one night. All over my sixteen-year-old titties.

  Dip was parked at the corner and waiting for me in his midnight-black Expedition with the chrome spinners.

  “Get your fine Chinese ass up in here,” he said, showing his pretty pearly teeth.

  I laughed. “How many damn times I gotta tell you I’m not Chinese, stupid.” I climbed up in the whip and crossed my legs, appreciating the way his eyes praised my curves.

  “Yeah, baby. Whatever. Your eyes is chinky and your shit is tight every time I see you, girl. Chinese or Japanese, you a stunna for real.”