Kola kicked off her shoes and went straight into her bathroom. She needed to wash up before attending her event. She turned on the water to her marble sunken tub and began stripping out of her clothes.
She made a few phone calls from her cell phone to make sure all the preparations for her party had been taken care of. Mostly, she talked to Gina, her trusted assistant, and Gina let her know that everyone was ready and everything was in place.
Kola’s parties started late—midnight or after. She liked it that way because it gave her more time to arrange everything. Besides, she knew the freaks mostly came out at night.
She smiled as she slowly submerged herself in the steaming, relaxing water. Then she turned on the small sound system embedded in her bathroom walls to listen to some R&B. Soaking in the tub, she tried not to think about her problems with her family, as she focused on her business and the streets.
Meanwhile, Mike-Mike was locked up in Rikers Island, and Danny was on the run. He had caught a murder charge a month earlier and decided to flee the city, but Kola didn’t stress it. She was only seventeen and living better than most adults.
CHAPTER 20
The porn-style party, taking place in SoHo, Manhattan, got into full swing after one in the morning. The cast iron building, tucked away on a quiet cobblestone city street, with sparse traffic outside, was the perfect location for a sex ’n’ play gathering. Inside the large room with the high ceiling and large-covered windows, with the brick, ductwork, and beams exposed, and a soaring view of the city, young scantily clad women in stilettos, some nude, moved around the loft, looking to please the many men available.
The men were just as loosely dressed as the ladies, some shirtless or in their underwear, and drooling at the slim, curvy, long-legged beauties. The loft came to life with sex. It was a free-for-all to do what you please with any of the ladies. There were two makeshift back rooms for privacy, or if a couple was bold enough, they could create their own show for everyone to see. Couples paired off in some corner or against the brick walls, in full view of one another.
The 15-inch club-size speakers situated throughout the loft played the smash hit by Ludacris and Trey Songz, “Sex Room.” All the grinding and touching going on got the ladies wet, and it didn’t take long for the downtown loft to literally become a sex room.
A handsome, young executive got his chance to be sexually entertained by Bunny Rabbit, one of Kola’s favorite girls. She was raw at the party, walking around butt naked in some six-inch heels and feeling up on all the fellows daringly with a teasing smile. Her long black hair danced around her shoulders, and her voluptuous curves got many stares from the men and women. She gave an enthusiastic member a blowjob right on the floor, sucking his thick, long, pink penis so good that after he came, he took a seat on the floor to catch his breath.
“You OK, honey?” Bunny Rabbit asked with a smile.
The man nodded. “Shit! That was fuckin’ awesome, man!”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Bunny Rabbit told him.
*****
Kola knew who to pick for memberships. She went after the men with big bucks and lustful appetites. Her networking skills were that of a champion. She would hit up Wall Street, corporate events, and industry parties, and then start to talk. She disguised her age, carried herself with true professionalism—classy, but with a little aggression to push her business—and had the men believing she was a young madam. She would take their business cards or give out hers, promising them the time of their lives. A few days later, they’d discuss membership fees, and then two days before the party they would get a text or e-mail containing the details.
Kola’s first event went off very well. She had a great crowd come through, and all her ladies did their thing. The men couldn’t get enough of her girls. Kola had hosted the event at a vacant Brooklyn warehouse, where everyone was treated to champagne, wine, even liquor, and there was so much sexing going on that, at the end of the night, used condoms were found all over the place.
Within weeks, Kola’s party spread by word of mouth, and everyone wanted in. But Kola was very careful in screening her clients. She was shrewd and meticulous, and had a good eye to spot bullshit. She did background checks and watched everything carefully, knowing that one slip-up could cost her plenty, especially if the police were watching her.
*****
Bunny Rabbit happily guided the tall, dark, handsome, suit-and-tie-wearing man by the hand, leading him to some place more discreet in the congested loft. She knew he was kind of shy and new to Kola’s parties.
Since the two rooms were occupied, they had to fuck out in the open. Bunny Rabbit liked his swag. He was dark-skinned and well-built with short hair and a thin mustache. He didn’t talk much, but she knew he wasn’t interested in having a conversation with her. She noticed he’d been ogling her since he arrived, so she took the initiative to start something with him.
She went up to the tall stranger and whispered in his ear, “Follow me,” and took his hand, guiding him through the crowd. The man didn’t protest. He willingly followed Bunny Rabbit to wherever she was taking him.
They soon were hugged up on each other in a dim corner of the loft, near one of the large, covered windows. Little by little, Bunny Rabbit began grinding her thick backside into him, feeling his dick growing in his slacks. She smiled, reaching around behind her, and let her hand travel south, grabbing his package. The man moaned and wanted her to continue.
“You like that?” Bunny Rabbit asked, turning to face him.
“Yes.”
With her naked body pressed against him and her large tit cupped in his hand, Bunny Rabbit began unzipping his pants. She reached inside for his hard-on and pulled it out so she could please it better.
The man moaned with gratification, feeling Bunny Rabbit’s soft, manicured hand gripping the tip of his erection. With his dick still in her hold, she stroked him lightly and pressed against him more with her naked breasts touching his suited chest.
She leaned into his ear and seductively asked, “You want me to fuck you, suck you, or both?”
The man’s breath was sparse with excitement, and Bunny felt his dick throbbing in her hand. She wanted to enjoy it either way—in her pussy or in her mouth. She continued to stroke and toy with his dick. Her nipples were hard as rocks, and her lips were soft like cotton.
“You choose,” he said.
Liking his response, she smiled before dropping to her knees and taking his hard, pulsating, penis into her mouth. As she rocked her head back and forth into him, the stranger gasped, reclining and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. He ran his hand through Bunny Rabbit’s thick, black hair and felt his knees about to buckle as she sucked his dick like the professional she was. It felt like his dick was in a vacuum tube.
Soon after, she gave him a condom, curved herself over to grip the brick wall, and waited for the penetration. He thrust himself into her, but it was a quick fuck. Bunny Rabbit had gotten him so excited, he came shortly after entry. He pulled out, somewhat embarrassed.
Bunny Rabbit smiled genially and said, “Don’t worry, honey. My pussy has that effect. You ain’t the only one.” As he pulled up his pants and smiled back, Bunny Rabbit noticed her boss Kola arriving.
Kola arrived at her party an hour after it started. She walked through her event with a proud smile. She was well liked and respected. She was greeting her girls, admiring the turnout, and looking stunning in a sheer black dress, embellished with sequins and cut to hug the body, underneath a sheer robe with long sleeves and shimmering sequin trim.
She also wore a thong panty, and her long legs strutted around in a pair of six-inch stilettos. Kola moved through the loft with authority, making sure everything was in order, from the music, money, and liquor, to making sure her regulars were satisfied with the girls.
She stood around talking to Gina and marveled at the orgy she put together. Screaming orgasms roared throughout the loft, and the different positi
ons that a few men and women were entwined in looked like something out of Kama Sutra.
Two hours later and the party gave no indication of dying out anytime soon. It was even more vibrant.
Kola noticed Cross in attendance. She was surprised to see him at her event, especially since he wasn’t a member. She watched him for a moment as he mingled with one of her girls. He looked finer than ever in his True Religion jeans, and old school red and white Adidas jacket and white T-shirt underneath. His long Cuban link chain with the diamond-encrusted pendant gleamed around his neck, and his long stylish braids portrayed him as the thug he really was. She hadn’t seen Cross since Mike-Mike’s arrest.
She downed the shot of vodka in her glass and walked over to him to say hello. She tapped him on his shoulder, and when he turned around, she asked, “What brings you to my party?”
“I see you doin’ ya thang, Kola. I like this,” he replied.
“How did you find out about it, Cross? I keep my shit on the down low.”
“I got my ways, baby. You know me, Kola. If I want in, I want it. I keep my ear to the streets,” he said arrogantly.
“I see.” Kola smiled.
The two locked eyes for a moment, and Kola couldn’t help but to become that little girl around him. It was her party, and she was that chick handling her business, but like her sister Apple, Cross had a way of making them feel like putty when he was around.
Cross looked at Kola with a hint in his eyes that he was pleased with what she had on. “You lookin’ really nice, Kola. Damn! Really fuckin’ nice.”
Kola blushed, which she rarely did, and responded, “Yeah, stop playing wit’ me, Cross.”
“Nah. Look at you. You runnin’ ya own thang. Shit, girl, you a natural born hustler. I like that. You came up.”
“I learned from the best,” she replied with a smile.
“You did, huh?”
She nodded.
“When was the last time you visited Mike-Mike?”
“Two weeks ago. He doin’ a’ight,” she answered.
“Yeah, I would go see my nigga, but wit’ the heat on us and shit wit’ these murders, I gotta fall back and chill.”
“I know. You ain’t gotta explain it to me, Cross. You know I’m always on the block.”
“But, look, I know things been rough wit’ you, wit’ your sister’s murder and everything, but if you need anything, you know to come holla at me, right?”
“I know. But I’m good for now, Cross. Thanks.”
“Yeah, I see you holdin’ your own. I see what Mike-Mike always saw in you. He always had good taste in women.” Cross stared at Kola with an urge to snatch her into his arms.
“You think so, huh?”
“Yeah, I know so.”
Kola felt her panties getting wet, and her legs quivered lightly with the bass in his voice and his towering presence. Her heart started to beat faster.
“You came for anything else, Cross? What you lookin’ for?” she asked, flirting.
Cross smiled. “Yo, is there some place where we can talk in private?”
“Yeah, follow me.”
Cross followed closely behind Kola, moving through the place and walking up a spiral stairway. They entered a small room decorated with burning candles, a small bed, and incense.
Kola pivoted on her stilettos to stare at Cross closely. “So, what do you want to talk to me about?”
Cross shut the door to the room and walked up to Kola. The look in his eyes made it clearly known. He didn’t want to talk. He noticed something different about Kola. She was advanced in her own way; mature.
Kola placed her hand against Cross’ chest, admiring his muscular physique, and felt her heart beating like African drums. She looked up at him, her eyes simply giving her away, telling him that she was his to play with for the night, so Cross pulled her into his arms and instantly began caressing her.
Kola unbuckled his jeans, slid out his dick, and went to work on it. She pushed him down onto the bed, taking control, laying him flat on his back, and began sucking his dick with such expertise, she had Cross squirming under her spell, speechless.
When she was done, they quickly stripped off everything, and she mounted his ample erection with a thirsty obsession to fuck the man her sister had loved for the longest. When Kola felt the fast thrust into her, she gasped and clawed Cross’ thick chest, grinding into him and feeling every inch of him digging deep inside of her.
When they were done, the two quickly got dressed. Kola went back to hosting her party, and with his mind continually replaying their brief encounter, Cross left.
CHAPTER 21
It was the beginning of September, and Apple’s vicious reputation was growing daily. She tormented and severely abused her once close friends. Everyone felt that she was out of control, and her mother wasn’t any better, supporting her daughter’s reckless ways because it kept her fresh in clothes, money, and jewelry. Apple had growing confrontations in Harlem, from her sister to the males and females that hated her. She was always too stubborn to back down from a fight and threatened anyone that crossed her. She looked at herself as improved from how she used to be—naïve and broke—and vowed never to struggle for a dime ever again. She was heartless with her .22 and small razor, leaving her trademark across half a dozen ladies that dared her.
She drove around Harlem in her pricey powder blue Benz and boasted about her wealth, sporting the nicest clothes and jewelry that money could buy. Money had changed her for the worse. It had gotten so bad for her that one night she exited a local diner from taking her mother out to eat and found her car keyed up, both front tires slashed, and her windshield shattered. Apple was highly upset, but she knew it was only part of the program. Collateral damage, she said to herself. Apple was somewhat glad she had haters. It meant she was relevant.
Apple woke up suddenly around three in the morning in a cold sweat, screaming out from a nightmare she’d been having continuously. She lifted herself out of bed, and welcomed the dim light coming from the television. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, and the room was spinning, the walls closing in on her.
*****
Apple found herself alone once more in the luxurious brownstone that she and Supreme shared. Her mother was out gambling till the early morning hours again, and Supreme was never home, which was starting to trouble her. She’d heard rumors about him fucking other girls, and even though she put the word out that there was no more sleeping off a debt, it had gotten back to her that Supreme had fucked Ayesha a few times when she couldn’t pay back the five hundred dollars she borrowed.
Apple fumed at Ayesha getting with her man and made a mental note to check her when she saw her in the streets. Apple wasn’t having it; she wasn’t going to be played like some fool. She felt she had worked too hard to get the finer things, and Ayesha wasn’t going to take the easy way out. She planned to confront her at her home and tell her that she still owed the money, even though she’d fucked Supreme to clear herself from the debt.
And she was ready to cut Supreme. They hadn’t fucked in two weeks because Apple felt he was too busy occupying himself with the whores on the streets. She was afraid that maybe he was getting tired of her. She was doing all of his dirty work, while he was basking in the glory.
*****
Right now though, Apple had bigger problems to deal with—her nightmares and her guilt. She was having the same recurring dreams about Nichols. In her dreams, Apple was alone, frightened, and being dragged into a dark, terrifying pit—maybe hell—where she’d hear blood-curling screams from Nichols as she cried out to her in anguish, “Why? Why? Why you let him do this to me?”
It pained her to hear Nichols’ gut-wrenching voice. She felt this paralyzing chill overcome her that she couldn’t escape. Some demonic force would depart from the depths of hell to seize her sadistically and pull her into a long suffering. She would try to scream, shake, bite, and fight her way out of the dark entity’s control over her, but the more
she fought, the weaker she became, until finally she’d give in. That’s when she would feel herself sinking down into hell and hear Nichols’ chilling voice fading in the distance. She would stir wildly from her sleep and have to catch her breath. Her nightmare seemed too real, and she would be paranoid for the first ten minutes after waking up.
It was the sixth nightmare she’d had within two weeks, and it started to bother her. She thought about seeing a doctor, but then she didn’t want to be looked at as crazy.
With no one around to talk to or comfort her, Apple got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face to calm her nerves. She lingered on her reflection in the bathroom mirror for a moment and noticed the change in her eyes, which were now cold and daring.
Next, she walked into the kitchen to fix herself a late-night snack. She figured having something in her stomach would ease her nerves a little more. She made herself a turkey and cheese sandwich, poured a large cup of iced tea, and returned to her bedroom to try and relax. She rested against the headboard, stuffed her face with food, and turned the volume up to see what was good to watch on cable at three in the morning. It was mostly paid programs and movies she’d already seen.
Nothing of interest caught her eye, until she turned to The History Channel and caught the beginning of an hour-long documentary on Stockholm syndrome, which she wanted to know more about. She didn’t know why the show had caught her eye, but she focused on the program.
At first, the host talked about the syndrome—“the psychological occurrence where hostages show admiration, worship and praise and have unreasonable positive feelings toward their captors, given the endangerment and risk.”
Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick Page 17