From the Streets to the Sheets

by Noire

  “You know Chocolate be having these bitches acting all out of character,” Hog added. Hog had gotten his nickname because his nose resembled a pig’s snout. He looked like a slightly more handsome version of the Notorious B.I.G., with a shaved head.

  “Y’all niggaz always got jokes,” I said, plopping down on the chair closest to Max. “Where the fuck is Reggie?”

  “He dipped out about twenty minutes ago. He went to see that stripper bitch he met last month,” Max informed me.

  “Sucker-for-love-ass nigga,” I laughed. “I know a lot of niggaz who done paid for pussy a time or two, but Reg is making that shit a regular occurrence. What is that, like the third time he’s seen her this week?”

  “Fourth,” Hog said. “Silly muthafucka took off work the other day to get a shot of that.”

  Max shook his head sadly. “That boy is gonna take himself to the poorhouse.”

  “Anybody ever seen this chick?” I asked.

  “Nah, we weren’t with him when he met her. He was fucking with Tay and them niggaz from the hill,” Hog said. “She must have some bomb-ass pussy, because she’s got this nigga acting like a schoolgirl.”

  “Let him tell it, she’s got fairy dust tucked in her twat,” Max joked. “This dude told me that she licked his ass cleaner than Martha Stewart’s kitchen.”

  “Shit, I wouldn’t mind getting a shot of that,” I admitted.

  Hog pushed me playfully. “Nigga, your hands are full enough. You got a girl and you’re still fucking everything on two legs. One day your dick is gonna fall off.”

  “You know these hoes can’t get enough of Chocolate,” I said, referring to myself in third person, as I was known to do. “They pay like they weigh, my dude.”

  “You pop that shit now, but what you gonna do when these females get together and try to burn your ass at the stake?” Hog said, in his gravelly voice.

  “I wish the fuck they would. My dick is like crack, and these chicks know who got the best product in town. They all pay homage to the king,” I boasted.

  “These bitches got you gassed,” Max said. “Chocolate, I ain’t never met a nigga as stuck on himself as you.”

  “Stop hating, fool, you know how I do. My show, my way. Recognize!” We exchanged high fives and ordered another round of drinks.

  Though my niggaz loved me, I know that sometimes they got a little jealous. I was young, fine, and doing me in a major way. I got more pussy on a weekly basis than some of them got in a month, and still I had a bad bitch who was madly in love with me. My game was on a million and it was only gonna get tighter, or so I thought.

  • • •

  It was about three-thirty when I finally left Mochas. I wasn’t drunk, but I had a damn good buzz going on. Max and Hog were gonna shoot down to the Strand to get a bite to eat with some chicks that they had met. One of them was a fine, light-skinned girl that was looking at me like she’d suck the life out of my dick. They wanted me to tag along, but I had to decline. The dog in me had wagged its tail enough for one day, and I was anxious to get back to my boo.

  It took me about thirty minutes to get to Keita’s. She lived in a nice little two-story house, right off of West Fordham. I let myself in, using the key she had given me two months prior. My boys thought I was tripping for giving her keys to my pad too, but that was just the hater in them coming out. If I loved her enough to give her the keys to my heart, it was nothing for me to give her the keys to my pad.

  Keita wasn’t home from the club yet so I decided to doll myself up for her while I waited. I took another shower, scrubbing my skin with some scented wash that Keita had bought me. My boys would clown me for using those kinds of products, but fuck that. I was a pretty nigga and liked to smell good too. After my shower I slipped on a pair of thong underwear, another gift from Keita. They were the kind of joints that had the tubular pouch that your dick slides into on the front. When all that was done, I settled down in front of the bedroom television to wait.

  Halfway though whatever dry-ass movie I was watching, the television and lights blinked out. I tried to cut them back on but they weren’t working. The fuse must’ve blown, I thought to myself. Grabbing the flashlight from Keita’s closet, I made my way down to the basement to replace the fuse.

  Keita was one of those people that didn’t believe in throwing shit away, so the basement served as a makeshift storage facility. Bags of clothes were strewn throughout the basement and every wall was lined with boxes. The fuse box was located in the far corner, just above a stack of storage bins. To reach the box I had to stretch over the bins, and even then I was still barely able to reach it. I guess that’s why Keita called me every time one of the damn things blew. I had successfully removed the burnt-out fuse and was about to put the other one in when it slipped out of my hand. I tried to catch it, but it bounced behind the bins.

  “Fuck!” I shouted. That was the last fuse in the house, so that meant that I’d have to move the bins and retrieve it. After a bit of struggling I had finally managed to move the bins enough to squeeze behind them. As I was shining the flashlight back there I noticed a space in the floorboards. It was so small that I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking for the fuse. It might’ve been nothing, but my curiosity wouldn’t let it go.

  I slid the bins away from the wall entirely and crawled behind them to investigate the space. That shit was barely the width of my pinky finger, but I could see something underneath. Using an old paint stick, I pried the floorboard loose and found what appeared to be several hatboxes hidden under the floor. I had no idea why the hell Keita would be hiding hatboxes under the floor, but best believe I was about to find out.

  One at a time, I removed the hatboxes and sat them in the corner. After replacing the fuse, I turned on the basement light and sat down on the floor. When I opened the first box I was surprised to find that there were clothes in it. The box was filled with thongs and bikini tops made from all different kinds of materials. There was even a small whip curled up at the bottom of the box. At first I thought that it might be old shit, but nothing felt dry-rotted. Upon further inspection, I could smell the faint scent of Keita’s perfume and musk. This sparked my interest and prompted me to move on to the next box.

  Like the first, this box with filled with items that I couldn’t understand why Keita was hiding. There were things ranging from handcuffs, to different-sized vibrators. I even came across a leather mask. My mind reeled trying to figure out what was going on, but it would be the last box that would alter my life forever.

  The third box was filled with adult movies. I knew Keita watched porn because we often watched the films together, but this was some hard-core shit. There was everything from guy-on-guy movies to animal snuff films. In addition to these, there were mini DVDs, with dates on the labels. Determined to see what the fuck was going on with my boo, I carried the box upstairs.

  After hooking up the mini-cam I had bought her for Christmas, I popped one of the tapes in. The first scene was taken at strip club called the Wedge Hall. I knew the spot because I had been there a few times with Hog and Max. There were nude girls performing onstage and giving lap dances. One girl was familiar to me, but I couldn’t see her face because she was wearing a mask. The very same mask I had found in one of the hatboxes. My pulse quickened as the pieces began to fall into place. The woman who I had given my heart and soul to was leading a double life as a stripper.

  I leapt from the bed and screamed at the top of my lungs. I knocked over lamps, and smashed mirrors, but it still didn’t quench my rage. A wave of heat shot from my toes and washed over my face as I watched my beloved baby girl bounce her ass while men threw dollars at her. Keita performed tricks on that stage that she never had in our bedroom, and the crowd loved her. My heart felt like it had shattered into a million tiny pieces. I thought I had seen the worst, but I was terribly wrong.

  The camera faded out of the strip club, and faded into a dingy motel room. There was a man sitting on the edge
of the bed talking to someone I couldn’t see. I prayed that it wasn’t my Keita, but by this point I knew I was reaching. She came on camera wearing a thong and some thigh-boots. Tears stung my eyes and I wanted to turn away, but I forced myself to keep watching. She began by licking this cat down his chest, then taking him into her mouth. Now, with me Keita always fronted like she really didn’t know what she was doing when she gave me head, but she sucked dude off expertly. I thought it couldn’t get any worse until I saw another man come into frame and start pounding her from the back while she continued to suck his partner.

  I cried like a baby, watching as my woman fucked and sucked other men. To say that she got nasty with them would’ve been an understatement. Keita performed tricks on these men that you only saw in porno movies. They even double-teamed her, with one cat beating the pussy while the other one fucked her in the ass. Through it all Keita spewed obscenities and reveled in the fuck-fest. As I watched a trio of well-hung studs take turns cumming in her mouth, I thought about all the times I had kissed her lovingly, and I threw up all over the carpet.

  By the time I got to the last tape my eyes were swollen from crying and my throat raw from screaming. During the very last scene, Keita was kneeling in front of the camera, waiting for God knew who. A tall cat with piss-yellow skin came into frame, totally naked. Keita proceeded to lick up and down the shaft of his dick, while running her nails across his ass cheeks. His back arched in ecstasy as she sucked him like a peppermint stick. Dude grabbed her by the wig she was wearing and began fucking her mouth like a jackhammer. She began jerking his dick while she licked under his balls and made her way around to his ass. I wanted to throw up again, but I didn’t have anything left in my stomach!

  As if the knife hadn’t been driven in deep enough, the dude’s face came into frame and what little bit of breath I had left in my body escaped me. It was my man Reggie. So, Keita was the freak-ass stripper that he had been spending so much of his time and money with. I sat there and watched helplessly as my man fucked my girl in every single hole. When he was done, he came all over her face and proceeded to wipe what was left onto her waiting lips.

  I was a man defeated. For all the running around on Keita I did, it never occurred to me that she might be doing the same. Not my love-goddess. Never in a million years. I thought I knew all the tricks, but apparently she knew one that I didn’t. Keita had put one over on the infamous Chocolate.

  Seeing my woman fucking all those guys on tape took something out of me. The fire that had only hours prior burned within me was gone. I no longer had the strength or desire to live. I crawled—yes, crawled—to where my gym bag lay and retrieved my gun. The iron felt cool yet comforting in my hands. I placed the barrel in my mouth and prepared to leave this cruel world behind, until I heard the sound of the front door opening.

  “Baby, are you here?” she called up. “Dante, why are all the lights off? Are you being nasty?”

  Hearing her voice enraged me. Here I was about to check out over a no-good, low-life bitch. The more she talked, the madder I got. At one point I felt like I had completely taken leave of my senses, and for the kind of shit I was thinking about, I guess I had. Suddenly, a plan began to form in my mind.

  “I’m up here, baby,” I called down in my sweetest voice. Pressing myself against the door, I listened for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. That bitch must’ve been outta her mind to think that she could put the move on me. I was Chocolate muthafucking Burton. This bitch would recognize like all the others.

  I waited patiently for Keita to make it to the second floor and down the hall to the bedroom. She was the first bitch to ever run game on me, and she’d damn sure be the last. It was my fucking show, and my fucking way. And when she crossed the threshold, I gave her my warmest smile before pulling the trigger.

  Show’s over.

  My way.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, all props go to the Father above for blessing me with the ink that flows from my pen. I’m also thankful for my sense of humor and my patience because I wouldn’t have survived the knife wounds without them.

  Thanks to Missy, Jay, Ty, Nisaa, Black, Man, and my girl Aretha Temple for having my back and brushing the dirt off my shoulders.

  To those of you who stay hungry for my original urban erotic tales and send me mad e-mails full of love, I love the hell outta y’all right back. You might have crowned me the Queen of Urban Erotic Tales, but it is me who bows down to you.

  STAY BLACK.

  NOIRE

  Noire’s

  URBAN EROTIC RIDERS

  Noire is the number one Essence, Black Expressions, Black Issues Book Review, and Borders bestselling author of the urban erotic tales G-Spot, Candy Licker, Thug-A-Licious, Baby Brother (with 50 Cent), Thong on Fire, and Hood. With the publication of G-Spot: An Urban Erotic Tale, Noire burst onto the literary scene with fire and street credibility, and caused the tongues of veteran authors to wag in a million different directions. Noire’s debut novel quickly became a nationally bestselling title with over 100,000 copies in print, and that number continues to climb. Noire’s short story “That Bitch Juicy” is the first in the series of “G-Spot Teasers,” which are short stories to be published in future urban erotic quickie anthologies. Noire promises that each “teaser” will bring the reader closer and closer to the explosive climax they’ve been waiting for: G-Spot 2: Juicy’s Revenge.

  As the editor-in-chief of NOIREMagazine.com, an original source of street elite urban entertainment, Noire is riding the urban erotic train into new frontiers. NOIREMagazine.com is dedicated to exposing new authors in all genres and boasts Da Beautiful Mind’s Noirotica poetry corner, Reem Raw’s Urban Music Shelf, Angie’s Monthly Book Picks, an Urban Altar column by E. N. Joy, and a gully column filled with urban entertainment news, called “Ree-Ree Got the Scoop.” Noire continues to parlay the urban erotic dream into new realms with NOIRE Music Group, in collaboration with Reem Raw and N.J.S. Entertainment, and with upcoming film projects for G-Spot, Candy Licker, and other titles. Noire’s first urban film, Hitting the Bricks, starring Alexandra Merejo, Ness Bautista, and Texas Battle, was recently shot in Los Angeles and is scheduled for release in 2008.

  Plea$ure, a St. Louis, MO, native and resident, made her mark in the underground hip-hop music industry before transitioning into the urban fashion scene, and now the literary industry. A self-proclaimed princess of the streets, Plea$ure accentuated the negativity of the hard-core streets that raised her, turning it into a positive by utilizing the lessons and lifestyle in her raw, edgy tales. This is her first story. Look out for her debut novel, which will be released by Urban Erotic Tales by Noire Publications.

  Euftis Emory is a graduate of Howard University with a degree in Computer Based Information Systems. Founding Dominion Publishing in 2005, Euftis has quickly become one of the most daring and raw black erotic authors on the market today. When he is not writing, Euftis presides as the chairman of the Dominion Corporation, a management information systems consulting company. Euftis can be reached at Euftis_Emery@yahoo.com. Or visit his website at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/OffdaChain/.

  Andrea Blackstone attended Morgan State Univesity and is the recipient of The Zora Neale Hurston Scholarship Award. After a two-year stint in law school, she later changed her career path and earned an M.A. from St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland, with honors. The self-published author of Schemin’: Confessions of a Gold Digger, and the sequel, Short Changed, Andrea’s inspirational story, My Mother’s Shoes, was published in Chicken Soup for the African-American Woman’s Soul. In 2008, she completed her first book deal with Q-Boro Books. Nympho was well received by erotica fans, and Sexxxfessions: Confessions of an Anonymous Stripper became a Black Expressions bestseller. Andrea has appeared on Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel and E! True Hollywood Story.

  Gerald K. Malcom, author of The Last Temptation, has reached thousands of readers, and now flexes his literary prowess in the film indu
stry. With a screenplay, The Maskerade, complete and ready for filming, he continues to push forward through joint ventures in Los Angeles and on the East Coast. He recently co-founded a T-shirt company, www.twistedrealities.com. His initial shirt, You Can Call Me the Inward, has caught the attention of several key components in the entertainment industry. Malcom educates youths and adults through creative writing courses for those who are interested in learning the craft. After ten years in the literary business his writing continues to be comedic, sensual, and realistic. With several other literary, television, and film projects in the works, he finds solace in a quiet game of chess or by spending time with family and friends. He can be reached at www.geraldkmalcom.com.

  Thomas Long is the author of the urban fiction smashes A Thug’s Life and Cash Rules. He is also a contributing author in the bestselling anthologies Around the Way Girls 2 and Around the Way Girls 3. Long’s latest novel is Papa Don’t Preach. The versatile and prolific author’s book A Thug’s Life has been adapted into the recently released DVD 4 Life, starring Wood Harris and Elise Neal. For more info on Thomas Long or the movie, go to www.athugslife.com or www.watchmenowfilms.com.

  Jamise L. Dames is the nationally bestselling author of Momma’s Baby, Daddy’s Maybe and Pushing Up Daisies, and is a contributor to the anthology On the Line. A public speaker and published songwriter, Dames holds a B.A. from the University of Connecticut, and is pursuing a master’s degree. Dividing her time between the West Coast and the South, Dames looks forward to hearing from her readers at www.jamiseldames.com and www.myspace.com/jamiseldames.

  Aretha Temple knew she had a talent for writing in the seventh grade, when she started writing poetry. People enjoyed it so much, they asked her to write their wedding vows. As Temple got older, she discovered that her passion for writing expanded beyond poetry. She began writing erotic and urban short stories, sharing them with her various online groups, as well as on her MySpace pages: www.myspace.com/twothick4you and www.myspace.com/arethatemple.