by N'Tyse
As Mu gawked, Illusion got excited even more. But right when Muhedio’s dick began to nod at her, she hurriedly closed her legs back together like scissors.
“Hey, I wanted to see that,” Muhedio pleaded with her, not wanting her to stop what she had been doing.
Illusion grinned, her titties saluting him. “I take cash only. I saw an ATM downstairs in the lobby.” It was time to conduct business on her level now.
“I have the money already in my wallet,” he whined. “Open it back. Do that thing again. Make it clap for Muhedio,” he begged, stroking his shaft for a stiffer erection.
Illusion’s face couldn’t look any more serious. “Let’s see it,” she told him, raising her foot to his hairy stomach and denying him the privilege of getting any closer. She didn’t trust tricks for very good reason. The first and last john she ever let get over on her ended up talking her into doing all kinds of crazy shit like sucking him off while he fingered her ass. He even made her piss on his stomach while he worked himself up. He never wanted to stick it in because he was married and didn’t want to cheat on his wife with a kid. He had told Illusion that he had a social security check he hadn’t cashed yet in his pocket for eight hundred dollars. But after everything was all said and done, he didn’t have shit on him but some change. So just like that, sixty dollars walked off and she was left with his cum smeared all over her chest and chin. So money first became her golden rule. She wasn’t that strung out teenager like she was back in the day, selling her ass for weed, clothes, and new kicks. It was a new day. If it wasn’t speaking dollars, then it wasn’t speaking at all.
Muhedio walked over to his pants that were strewn on the floor. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. As soon as he opened it, Illusion spotted at least five credit cards. She batted her lashes when he held up six crisp one hundred dollar bills.
“See, I keeps money, baby.” He waved the money in her face. “Muhedio wouldn’t cheat the pretty lady.” He handed Illusion all six of them, putting her mind at ease. “Keep the change. I know you’ll be more than worth it,” he spoke confidently, sucking in his bottom lip while he imagined all the positions he would be flipping her in. Now that the business was done, they could get down to it. “What was I about to do?” he asked Illusion, joining her in the bed.
Illusion pushed in the light switch on the lamp, turning the room pitch black. Inside she was turning cartwheels because she knew she had lucked up and hit the jackpot. Now all she had to do was cash his ass in. With the money balled tight in her hands, she told him, “You were about to lay back and enjoy this ride.” She crawled over him, bowing between his legs. She parted her lips, slid out her tongue and wrapped it tightly around every fraction of his stiffening ten inches. She deep-throated him like the professional she was. No amateur shit. One lick and swallow and Illusion knew he’d be ready to change his religion. His dick was exceptionally long, harder than tree lumber, and the biggest thing swinging in Texas. But Illusion couldn’t allow herself to lose focus. This was business. Pleasure hitched a ride off her train a long time ago.
Three nuts, sore jaws, and an ass fucking like never before had Muhedio out like a light. He was sound asleep and it couldn’t have happened soon enough. Lying next to him and pondering her next move was all Illusion could do. She wondered if Fletch was still driving up and down the strip looking for her or if he decided to run home to the new chick of the week that occupied his late nights. She even wondered if Ty’s eye was still bulging out of the socket, looking as though somebody played ice hockey on her face. She tried her hardest to hold in her laugh at the image she saw clearly in her mind.
Ppppffff!
Illusion turned her nose up. “I know this motherfucker didn’t just fart,” she cursed under her breath in disbelief.
Ppppffff!
Illusion couldn’t take it. He had done it again. She clamped her nose together with her fingers and held her breath. She inched her feet to the floor and slid off the bed slowly. She pushed the sheets back over Muhedio’s shoulders and got ready to make her break. It was cool while it lasted, but she was running a tight schedule and whether he knew it or not, he had already maxed out his playtime. She wasn’t trying to turn Hooker to Housewife, and this damn sure wasn’t a Pretty Woman scene. He could save that shit for the next ho waiting in line behind her because she had moves to make, tricks to fuck, and money to get.
She threw her clothes on so fast that she hardly realized her dress was turned inside out, and she could have cared less. She had to get the fuck up out of there, pronto.
Muhedio’s pants lay there in front of her with his wallet hanging out partially and in clear view. She bent down slowly. She held her breath for as long as she could to keep from inhaling the long lost rat that crawled up his ass and died. As her sore knees popped, she quietly slipped Muhedio’s wallet under her arm. She fished for his car keys and quickly grabbed her purse. She kept her eyes on him as she backed her way to the door. She turned the knob slowly to the left. When she could hear the slight screech in the hinges, she slipped through the crack, and bounced faster than a double-dribble half court play with six seconds left on the clock.
C
6
hyna’s hotline buzzed like crazy in the cup holder. It startled Sand who had dozed off. Chyna hooked her ear-piece over her ear and then hit the side button to answer it. “Yeah?”
“Chyna. Man, I don’t know where the fuck Illusion at. Her and Ty got into it tonight. Fighting and shit, busting out my windows. Man, just going crazy!” Fletch rattled off, completely unaware that Chyna was already abreast of the situation.
“And where is Illusion now?”
“Man, I’m rolling ’round out here and I don’t see her ass. I don’t know where the fuck she at right about now.” Fletch was looking around as he drove up and down the street. Weren’t too many black folks loitering in the area this early in the morning, so all he had to do was look for a tall, black female with a big ass and too-big-to-be-real titties in a short, tight red dress.
“Well, keep looking until you find her,” Chyna told him in her sternest of voices. “I want Illusion back at the house tonight. Whatever it takes.”
If Chyna could have seen Fletch she would have caught him mouthing the word, “Bitch” at her. He didn’t have time for this shit tonight. He wasn’t running a damn daycare.
“And who in the hell told you to leave her there?” Chyna wasn’t letting him off the hook.
Sand listened intently as Chyna engaged in a heated discussion.
Fletch had some explaining to do and he didn’t know where the fuck to begin. “Her and Ty kept going at it like nonstop and—”
The rest of what he had to say got lost along the way. Chyna cut him off before he could piss her off anymore than he already had. She rephrased her question so maybe he could interpret it better. “Who in the fuck told you to leave her there?” Her pitch dropped a few octaves.
“Man, Ty was bitching and shit and wouldn’t let her in the damn car. That’s when—” he stopped, realizing that his poor attempts of reiterating what went down were pointless.
Chyna had to take a breather before she completely lost it. She spoke calmly, resurrecting every angry spirit that consumed her. “Fletch, if Illusion ain’t back at the house in an hour, it’s your ass. Ya feel what I’m saying? Now get off my phone,” her lips moved in slow motion, “and go find my bitch!” She disconnected the call.
Sand sat up, fully awake now after overhearing every bit of Chyna’s fiasco. She couldn’t figure out how a chick that looked like Chyna and donned all the feminine qualities a woman could possess, could put die-hard fear in people’s hearts the way she managed to do. But once she thought about it, it wasn’t about the looks in this particular industry. It was about your rank. If you had street credibility, your name alone was a threat, without anybody ever having to see your face.
Chyna pulled into the Silverman Estates, where not one house in the division was value
d at anything less than a million dollars. She punched in her code, then drove past the iron security gates as they began opening for her. Her MTV Cribs look-alike was a two-story ranch style, mini stucco mansion with well over fifteen thousand square feet of living space. There were parts of the house that not even she saw on a daily basis. It was the home where she housed all of her hos who meant anything to her. Hos that were costly to replace. Hos that she kept under her radar.
As they entered the four-car garage, Sand eyed the impeccable fleet of foreign selections. All a different year, color, and price. She followed Chyna through a side door that led them through a mazed walkway and into a rounded kitchen with an open view. They moved further inside the dark and quiet house. Everyone had to be asleep. Sand crashed on the brown leather sofa, hoping to get comfortable enough to rest her head until daylight came. She laid her head back and flipped up the footrest. She took off her cap and placed it over her face.
Chyna was walking around flipping on every light switch she walked past. She started for the swivel staircase where she then began peeling off her clothes, stripping down to just her white sheer bra and matching thong. The heels of her Armani’s echoed off the twenty foot vaulted ceiling as she climbed each step with dangerous anticipation. She turned down the elongated hallway, her stream of hair bouncing against her back with every stride. She peeked into three rooms before entering the one where Ty had been sound asleep.
Only a scented night-light plug-in offered her a full view of all the injuries Illusion had inflicted upon her property. A minute later, Ty’s entire body was yanked and dragged from beneath the sheets.
In an instant reaction, Ty grabbed and pulled at the tightness being roped around her neck. She couldn’t scream, only wince in agonizing pain while trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She grabbed and plucked at what she thought might have been a rope but instead had been the extension cord from the nearby wall socket.
“You think you running shit, huh? You in charge now, Ty?” Chyna screamed like a drill sergeant.
Ty shook her head sideways and her eyes pleaded with Chyna who was seething over her. Tears rushed down Ty’s face, hunting for mercy, but they only made Chyna draw the cord tighter. Ty’s veins strained themselves against her neck and forehead as her face flushed in multiple shades of reds.
“You in charge, Ty?” Chyna screamed again, this time waking all the girls in the house. “Ho, you running my fucking show now?”
The girls all ran out of their rooms to see what was going on, praying and hoping that they weren’t next. They watched Ty laid out on the floor with the black ten foot cord wrapped around her throat. They wondered what she could have possibly done to deserve the late night ass beating.
Ty kicked her feet, knocking over everything they touched. Her cut and bruised face burned like fire and her blackened eye was swollen shut. The girls gathered just outside their doors, facing the stairway and bearing witness to Ty’s punishment. Some seeing Ty’s wounds for the very first time, having no clue that they were the markings from an earlier altercation. For all they knew, Chyna had caused them all, which terrified them even more.
Chyna nodded her head vigorously, “Oh yeah, Ty running shit now,” she repeated madly, dragging Ty across the carpet by the rope and down the hallway.
The women huddled around each other in panties and bras, some in neither. A few of them with silk scarves and bandannas tied around their heads, protecting their latest investments. Like a horse, Chyna raised Ty to her feet, then dragged her down the flight of stairs, backwards in a choke hold grip.
Sand jumped up when she heard all the crying and commotion leave from upstairs and find its way down. She was soon witnessing Chyna wrestle Ty to the floor. “Chyna, what you doing?” Sand questioned, seeing how Ty’s face was all beat up.
“Sand, stay out of this! This between me and my bitch,” Chyna warned, overpowering Ty’s strength. Chyna’s earpiece began ringing in her ear. She didn’t have her phone to see who it was but with the device programmed to auto-answer, it came on after the fourth ring. She hoped it was Fletch calling back to tell her he’d found Illusion. But it was not Fletch that she heard breathing in her ear.
“Chyna, come on. Stop it. That’s enough,” Sand kept telling her. “Let me pay you off whatever she owes you.” Sand couldn’t bear to watch. “She can’t even breathe like that.”
Chyna had Ty laid out in the middle of the floor for everyone to see. She wanted them all to receive the message loud and clear. Even the woman in her ear was constantly yelling for her to stop without any idea of what was happening. She finally began unraveling the cord. Not because she gave a fuck that everyone was yelling for her to stop, but because she didn’t want to scratch up her merchandise anymore than it already was. That shit had to be resold. She had calls lined up for Ty for the rest of the week and she’d be damned if she was about to lose any money over her and Illusion’s undeserving asses. She was already calculating how much she would be out if Illusion didn’t show up for the gig she had hired her out for the following night. Chyna was riding on ten grand that she’d already collected from her client as down payment. Half of the product he needed was packaged away in her room, and the other half was walking around Dallas.
Ty struggled to turn to her side. She clutched her throat and immediately started choking on phlegm and blood. Her sobs turned into violent screams after finally catching her breath.
Chyna squatted over her. She pinned Ty down until she was flat on her backside, and then roughly began yanking off her bra and panties.
Sand stood back feeling helpless. She couldn’t watch what she felt Chyna was about to do to Ty, as if beating her to the ground and almost strangling her to death wasn’t enough. Sand turned her head. She felt sorry for the poor girl.
Ty lay unclothed and groaning in pain with her fists balled tightly at her sides. She was boiling over with anger. Although she was only able to see out of one eye, she knew everybody was there, watching from upstairs and ignoring her cries for help.
Chyna paired two fingers and then roughly shoved them into Ty’s dry opening without warning.
Ty’s body jerked and the muscles in her stomach tightened. “Aghhh!” she hollered.
Breathing down Ty’s neck, Chyna yelled, “You feel that! This is mines. I own every piece of pussy that walks around this motherfucka!” Chyna pumped her fingers into Ty faster and harder than before until her cold fingers folded into a fist, turning Ty’s vagina into her own personal punching bag.
“Awww! Awww!” Ty hollered out in pain every time Chyna fist-fucked and slapped at her belly.
“I own this shit!” Chyna yelled louder. She gripped Ty by the throat, digging her nails into her skin until she drew blood. The markings from the cord were still visible but Chyna knew it was nothing a few rubs of cocoa butter couldn’t fade. “Look at me, dammitt! I own it,” she said, jerking Ty’s neck so hard it popped. “And believe me, I will kill you if you ever forget that shit. Do you understand me ho?”
Ty nodded repeatedly as tears continued to pour from her eyes. The pressure from Chyna’s knee in her stomach had her folding over. She didn’t know which pain hurt worse, her eye, her stomach, or the constant pounding in her pussy.
Everyone was quiet as Chyna stood to her feet half-naked and in heels. She picked her keys up from the end-table and tossed them to Sand. “Take this bitch to Parkland. They ask what happened, you found her that way.” She gave Sand a serious look. “Have ’em patch her up and send her back to me. Ain’t no sick time on my clock!” she hollered, looking in the direction of upstairs where the girls were all packed together.
Chyna didn’t give her girls any reason to not maintain their full potential dollar limits. Each of them was on some sort of birth control shot that prevented them from getting pregnant while eliminating their monthly visitor. Chyna didn’t want anything throwing them off rotation and interfering with her cash flow. So not even Mother Nature could come between her a
nd her money—not if she could help it. Chyna had this escort business down to the tee. When it was time to get out there and make that money, that’s exactly what she needed to happen, no excuses.
She walked into her downstairs bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. It was the only place she felt safe in her own house, but even there she had countless nightmares of ending up like her mother, stretched out, naked with a black bag tied around her head, waiting for someone to discover her body. She tried to shake those paranoid thoughts, but there wasn’t a night that went by when those fears didn’t haunt her in her sleep.
Sand stood in the same spot with an incredulous look across her face. Chyna had just beat the living shit out of this girl and now she wanted her to go to the hospital and get stitched up. Sand was missing something entirely. She hurried over to Ty. “It’s all right,” she tried consoling her as she helped her up from the floor.
Ty wrapped her arms around Sand’s lean body. “Please get me out of here. I’ll die if I stay in this house!” she cried out like a baby while bloody saliva dangled from her bottom lip and skated down her chin.
“Let me just get you some help first, ’cause you bleeding pretty damn bad,” Sand told her as she unknowingly made faces at the sight of Ty’s wounds. She guessed that Ty would need at least ten to fifteen stitches. The gash above her left eye had reopened and squirts of blood oozed down her face. Sand tried her best to remain calm, but the sight of all that blood made her nervous, especially when Ty had two bruised eyes, scratches, and cuts that looked like knife wounds to go along with it.
Sand knew she didn’t want to risk being questioned about Ty’s condition. She knew the picture it would paint of her. So to avoid all that, she had already made up her mind that she would be dropping Ty off and leaving the rest of that shit for Chyna to handle. She wasn’t about to get involved in her whorehouse drama.