by N'Tyse
Once Rene stepped out in her costume, Chyna circled her for full inspection from head to toe. She poured scented oil into her hands and began massaging it into Rene’s arms, thighs, ass, and legs. She was gentle with her touch and aroused by her soft body. “Put this on,” she said, handing Rene a tube of lipstick. “It’s his favorite.”
Watching Rene carefully glide the bloody red color over her full lips, made Chyna’s pussy tremble. She shifted a little, never taking her eyes off what was in front of her.
Rene handed the lipstick back to Chyna. She could sense that Chyna was getting turned on by all of this and that was enough to bring that feeling of nausea floating from her gut.
With a wide grin on her face, “Now, turn around,” Chyna instructed.
Rene did exactly as she was told. She turned in a slow spin for Chyna, feeling more uncomfortable than before.
With full approval, Chyna led Rene out the door and ushered her down the narrow carpeted hall to the last door on their left. The entire hall belonged to Chyna. Every Friday and Saturday night, she rented every suite on the twelfth floor so that she knew exactly who was where, at what time, and who they were with. These were her high-dollar clients that paid big money to sleep with her girls, so she made sure they got their money’s worth.
Chyna knocked twice on the door and was greeted by one of her favorite clients. He was a tall, attractive, soft tanned male with medium dark brown eyes and charcoal black hair. The scanty specs of gray were deceivingly hidden with a temporary dye. He had a short beard, thin mustache, and a few impolite wrinkles that branded his forehead. His cologne gave away his true years of age along with his demeanor that exemplified the overall profile of most of Chyna’s elite clientele.
“Zirafelli,” Chyna smiled seductively as she spoke his name.
He pulled the door open further and Chyna and Rene stepped inside. He took one look at Rene and smiled in approving delight. Chyna had done right by him, like always. “So is this the infamous Illusion you’ve been telling me about?” he beamed. His words were so crisp one would have thought English was his primary language. He leaned forward and gave Chyna a peck on the mouth.
“You knew I’d take care of you,” Chyna said. She looked over at Rene then back at her client. “But be gentle with this one, okay?” She lifted one brow at him. “She’s a keepsake.”
Zirafelli worked up a laugh. “Aren’t they all?” he guffawed, taking a sip of his Bourbon.
Rene looked away at Chyna’s comment. Her arms felt like dead weight and her legs like weak sticks that were only seconds away from collapsing beneath her. She resented everything that she knew was getting ready to take place. But in her mind, her heart, and deep down within her soul, she knew she didn’t have a choice. She had to fuck this man like her and Sand’s lives depended on it.
Chyna removed the hat from her head and a full length of body curls cascaded over her shoulders. “All right, I say we get down to business,” she suggested to the both of them, her client primarily. Chyna unlatched the guitar case, opened it and revealed the twelve pounds of cocaine she had placed inside. Zirafelli reached in for one of the bundles, sniffing as hard as he could through the undetectable wrapping. “If you need a taste test, she’s right here,” Chyna reminded him. She knew how he preferred his high. That’s why she packed along his own little prescribed dosage. She slipped Zirafelli a glass vial containing at least two grams of coke. It was a token of her appreciation for remaining such a dedicated customer.
“You sure know how to treat an old man,” Zirafelli said with eyes that wouldn’t stop roaming around Rene’s body. “My guy is in the lobby. The same one I always bring,” he advised Chyna. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you two kids alone then.” Chyna gave Zirafelli a departing kiss on the cheek then glanced over at Rene who was stiff as a board. “Relax,” she whispered in Rene’s ear. “It will only hurt as much as you think that it will.” Chyna straightened her posture, hoping that Rene would take her advice and loosen the hell up.
Rene didn’t reply, but her glare was so cold she could have turned everything in the room into icicles.
“I’ll be downstairs when you’re done,” Chyna told Rene. She was now ready to transact the additional related business and collect the remainder of her payment. She saw herself out of the room and made her way to the lobby, leaving Rene and Zirafelli alone to get better acquainted.
She could feel his sperm swimming in her mouth, but Rene tried her hardest not to gag. When Zirafelli’s final jerks softened and his swollen dick went limp, she slid her mouth from around his penis tip, leaving her with a salt water taste tempting her to vomit all over his midsection. She could not and would not adhere to his request to swallow, and instead sent the contents in her mouth erupting down her chin. Without another thought to spare, she jumped to her feet, staggering toward the end of the bed. She quickly gathered the gown and robe that had once laid at the foot of the bed, but was now on the floor. She rushed to the bathroom, gargling what was left of the slime-like residue to keep it from flushing down her windpipe. She held up the lid on the toilet with her free hand, then began throwing up her insides.
A few minutes later, Rene leaned into the sink, bending over just enough so the cold water could run into her mouth and overflow. She did that repeatedly. Still unsatisfied, she walked back into the room anyway, now covered in the hooded oversized black robe, only to find Zirafelli getting high off the remaining lines of cocaine he hadn’t finished snorting off her ass. She watched unbelievingly, her eyes wide and blank, as the powder disappeared into the rolled one hundred dollar bill.
Zirafelli leaned his head back and held his nose together, trying to relieve himself of the burn. Spotting Rene out of the corner of his eyes, Zirafelli grew shameful for neglecting his manners. He then lifted his imitation straw in her direction. “Care to join me?”
Rene shook her head. “Are we done here?” she asked, ready to get the hell up out of there. This was more than what she cared to see right now. She’d done the job she was hired to do and now it was time to go.
Zirafelli grunted loudly as the tingling sensation traveled up his nose. He looked up, “Only if you want us to be,” he responded with powder the color of snow clinging to his untrimmed nose hairs.
Rene didn’t offer a reply. She simply turned her back and left the room. She made her way down the hall, off the elevator and through the lobby, searching for Chyna. She stopped in her tracks when she heard a female voice call out to her from behind.
“Looking for me?” Chyna asked smugly. Rene appeared startled. She folded her arms around her, pulling the robe as tight as it would go. “Yeah. I’m uh, finished. Zirafelli’s still up there ... if ... you need ... to see him.”
Chyna was quiet. She handed Rene an envelope similar to the one she’d given her before. Rene held it tightly, opened it to verify what was inside, then closed it.
“It’s all there,” Chyna said. “As agreed.” Rene didn’t know how to accept what she was doing. She felt like filth and she couldn’t even stand to be in her own skin right now. She kept reminding herself that it would all be over soon. And then she and Sand could reclaim their lives together. Rene had so much planned for them, so many places she wanted to go, things she wanted to do. She slipped the envelope into her robe pocket. She allowed her emotions to fall back into place before asking Chyna, “Am I done?”
Chyna peered at her and blew smoke from her cigarette pipe. “For now.”
16
F
letch knew he was tripping like a motherfucka, but something was telling him that he wasn’t. He sped up, moving in on the vehicle in front of him. Sand took a second look in the rearview mirror before asking Ty to check out the car behind them.
“Oh shit!” Ty cursed, ducking her head.
“What?”
“We got a problem.” Ty turned back around in her seat. “What is this nigga doing?” she hissed
through clenched teeth.
Sand looked behind them at the Hummer that was riding their tail lights. “What? Who is it? You know the nigga or something?” Sand was frantic and she could barely get the words out as her head moved up and down, back and forth, from the rearview mirror to the road.
“That’s Fletch,” Ty said as if Sand should have already known. “Chyna’s wannabe bodyguard, slash dealer, slash—just somebody you don’t want following you. And if he knows what’s up, we’re fucked!”
Sand took another look. Her recollection of Fletch was brief but she remembered seeing him on an occasion or two. “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m stopping this car.” Sand floored the accelerator, picking up speed. She was going fifty miles per hour in a thirtyfive mile zone.
“We ain’t got no choice but to stop and see what’s up or else this nigga really gon’ think we up to something. You forget who car we rollin’,” Ty reminded Sand. “Just don’t be acting all suspicious and shit. Let me see what’s up,” she said. She blew out a couple of breaths. “Trust me. I got this nigga,” she said confidently.
Fletch wasn’t as fucked up as he thought. He recognized the bitch in the passenger seat and he could smell her pussy blowing in the wind. It was definitely Ty. He pulled along the driver side to see who in the hell this nigga was pushing Chyna’s whip, because it sure as hell wasn’t somebody he was familiar with.
Nike sat up straighter. He was high, but that didn’t alter his concentration or his ability to check out what was popping because his mind was set on one thing. Hitting a lick. “Nigga, what the fuck is you doing? You tryna holla at some hos when we s’posed to be chasing this gwap!” Nike lashed out at Fletch.
Fletch passed the blunt to Nike. “Nigga, holds the fuck up right quick! Something’s up.” Fletch let down Nike’s side of the window. The cool air made room in between them. “Sup! Pull over!” he yelled out to the driver.
Sand, with both her hands glued to the wheel, took one look at Fletch and knew automatically that he wasn’t on toy cop security patrol. He had a Suge Knight build with a suave, clean shaven baby face. When he opened his mouth, she spotted his heavy metal iced out grille. “Sup!” he yelled to her again over his thugged-out passenger riding shotgun.
“Just pull over. I got you,” Ty whispered to Sand.
Giving in, Sand veered to the right, and pulled into a Family Dollar parking lot at the corner of St. Augustine and Scyene. It was dark out and the red glowing sign offered minimal lighting.
“Just be cool,” Ty warned her. She quickly pulled off her jacket and tightened her shirt by knotting it in the back. She ripped it slightly up top so that her usually unnoticeable cleavage could be seen. She flipped down the visor to get a glimpse at exactly what it was she was working with. When a horrifying image of herself materialized in the overhead mirror, she almost freaked out. She had forgotten all about her fresh bruises and scars, until now. She returned the mirror back to its closed position.
Fletch hopped out the Hummer and paced his steps as he walked around to Ty’s side, checking back and forth at the driver with an unfriendly mug plastered across his face.
Sand watched as the shadow lurking behind them grew bigger. She took in the atmosphere. Saw how the man that walked around to the passenger door, silently called her out from a distance. That’s why she cradled her chin and faced ahead, knowing that her protection was only a short reach away.
“Who the fuck is this motherfucka?” Fletch shot to Ty, folding his arms. His eyes bounced back and forth from Ty to her chauffeur.
Ty rolled her window down more. “Hey!” she said, easing the door open. She tried to play the whole thing off. “Fletch, lemme holla at you for a second, baby.” She closed the door, scooped his arm in hers, and walked nearly five feet away from the car.
Fletch tagged beside her, glancing at Sand as often as he felt.
“I got a hustle going right now,” Ty began, pulling out the first lie that came to mind. She stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “Man, this bitch got mad dough and Chyna asked me to run her down and scope her out. She think she pushing weight in her hood.” Ty looked Fletch directly in the face, hoping her lie would stand the test.
“Word?”
Ty bounced her head. “Yep. I let her drive ’cause she say she know the hood better than I do.” Ty started looking around as if she was lost. “As a matter of fact, where the hell are we?”
“PG. Quit acting dumb,” Fletch said, not buying anything she was telling him.
“For real. I ain’t never been over here,” she lied.
Fletch uncrossed his arms. “Well, I’ma call Chyna right now ‘cause she ain’t even mention this shit to me.” He reached for the cell phone hanging off his hip.
Ty grabbed his hand. “Oh, so you ain’t believin’ what the fuck I say now?” she frowned, rolling her neck. She threw her hands over her small hips and stretched her titties in his face. “I ain’t never gave you a reason to doubt me. All the shit I’ve done on the DL for you, nigga, and you got the nerve to doubt me over some bullshit that don’t even matter? Okay, I see how quick you switch it up when you need your dick sucked again. Better yet, when you need some pussy.” Ty knew bringing up the free pussy would cause Fletch to reconsider, especially if he planned on ever hitting it again.
Fletch lowered his hand. “A’ight, if you say so.”
“Nigga, I know so,” Ty boasted. Her head moved along with every word. She stepped closer, lowered her volume. “Let me play this bitch like I know how, make my paper, and catch you on the rebound.” She reached out for his dick but instead gripped all jeans.
Fletch licked his lips and squinted his glazed over eyes. “Yeah, I’m with that shit,” he nodded. “Call me as soon as you done with that trick.”
“Fo sho. You know how we get down,” she grinned, winking one eye. She stuck her salty finger in her mouth. “I’ll get these lips all ready,” she teased, “because I’m gon’ need a real dick by the time I’m done with her ass.”
Fletch stirred his tongue around in his mouth. Just thinking about getting some head had his eyes and his mouth watering. Even his jimmy was starting to attack his boxers as he contemplated what positions he would flip Ty’s fine ass in later. He didn’t care anything about her face being busted in. He just wanted a piece of that. His cell started to vibrate like crazy. He looked down, recognizing the number. He held up one finger to Ty, answering it before it could go to voice mail. “What up, motherfucka?”
“Nigga, you call me more than my bitches do. What the fuck is up with that shit?”
Ty moved her lips slowly. “We’re leaving,” she mouthed to Fletch. She backed away, holding her hand up to her left ear. “I’ll call you,” she whispered. She turned her back and headed for the car where Sand waited impatiently with the engine still running.
“Wait a minute!” he hollered back out to Ty. He was going to ask her what time to meet up. He laughed out loud at his boy who was clowning him on the line. “Fuck you, man. I was calling ’cause Chyna say her eagle didn’t drop last night. Know anything about that? ’Cause me and Nike ready to put in some overtime,” he said, talking in code. Although he spoke on a burn-out phone that was supposedly impossible to trace due to the chip that was inside of it, he still didn’t trust it.
“What you mean she didn’t get her payment?” K.C. balked. “I was with Aaron and them when they dropped that shit. Aaron even made sure that everybody on payroll got paid last night, and the rest of that shit we dropped off, like always.”
“So where the fuck y’all drop it, nigga, ’cause evidently it ain’t where it need to be or I wouldn’t be blowing you up, Einstein-ass nigga,” he said sarcastically.
Ty walked back over to where Fletch was, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She began biting down on her lip and rocking her legs. Fletch reached for her hand so that she could feel what she had done to him. His dick had swollen solid and was inches from detonating in his pants. He’d let her suck h
im off right there, behind that building, if she wasn’t so pressed for time.
Ty unzipped Fletch’s jeans and stuck her hand inside, massaging his shriveled up balls until his eyes started rolling around. She made room for herself in his leather coat. She knew that at the rate she was going, it’d only be a matter of minutes before it was all over because she was working the head of his dick like crazy.
“Y’all killing me with this miscommunication shit,” K.C. told Fletch. “We put that shit inside Chyna’s trunk. Matter fact, two hos were in the car. A dyke-looking broad and a ho with some peacock looking, blue ass hair. I’m guessing they were the new runners. But Aaron checked that shit out and gave us the green light.”
Fletch was listening to K.C. but concentrated more on the nut filling up Ty’s hand. “Yeah, a’ight then. Let me hit you back,” he grunted.
Ty slipped her hands out, grinning from ear to ear. She rubbed the cream in her hands together like lotion. She slyly glanced back at Sand who was pointing to her wrist, reminding her that they needed to get a move on. “Fletch, we have to go. She has some, uh, customers waiting for her,” Ty said.
Fletch pushed his dick back into his boxer shorts. “Really?”
The look Ty received from Fletch was far from the same convinced look he held earlier. She wondered if that had been Chyna on the phone. Wondered if they had been found out. Fletch reached for Ty’s throat. “Bitch, do I look like a motherfuckin’ fool to you!” His booming voice echoed all around them.
Ty struggled to breathe. When Sand looked up and saw what was going on, she reached for her strap, but the gun in her face urged her to reconsider. Nike held Fletch’s pistol in one hand and his own glock in the other. “Bitch, get up out the motherfuckin’ car before I spray your ass!”