A Pimp In Pumps

by Nika Michelle

  “Yes, we no longer need you, so you can clear your office and…”

  “What the fuck!” It didn’t matter if the real me came out at that point. “Are you serious? I’ve busted my ass for this company for four years and I can’t even take my PTO when I need to. Do you know what I’ve been through Mr. Motherfucking Entitled Ass Bradley? If you did you wouldn’t be in here firing me right now! My husband is divorcing me! He left me for my best friend because I put this sorry ass job before him! You think I’d just take time off for nothing when I’ve never done that shit before! Fuck you, this job and that fucking parking space!!”

  As I stood up, I knocked everything off my desk including the computer.

  “Mrs. Montgomery!” He yelled as he moved out of the way. “I will have you escorted out of here by security if you don’t get yourself together. Now, I understand that you’re upset. I didn’t know about your personal…situation. I’m sure you’ll need time to get all of your…issues in order. In the meantime, we’re offering you a very good severance package.”

  He passed me an envelope and then gave me a sympathetic look. I was trying to get my breathing and my temper in check, but that shit was a task. All I wanted to do was slap him with that damn envelope that was now in my hands.

  “I hope you know that this is really fucked up. You just don’t know what I sacrificed and it was all for nothing!”

  “Please, just leave while you still have your dignity Sasha.”

  I stared up at the man who had hired me with daggers in my eyes and thought about stabbing him in the throat with one of my ball point pins. Instead of reacting, I took his advice. There were a few personal items that I did want to pack up though, so I asked for him to excuse me.

  “Can you give me a minute to get my things together.” My voice was calm.

  He fixed his tie before turning to leave.

  “I do apologize that things worked out this way…Sasha. I’ll be happy to give you a reference in the future.”

  After that I heard the door close behind him.

  Chapter 7

  A month later…

  “A rooftop party. Now that’s hot!” Cherie said excitedly as I filled her in on what I’d come up with for Serg’s party.

  It seemed that I didn’t have anything else to do with my time, so planning the event of the year was my task. After losing my man, my best friend and my job, I felt hopeless. At least my girl trusted in me enough for me to help her. It made me feel like I had a purpose.

  My severance package and unemployment weren’t enough to cover everything. The divorce papers still hadn’t arrived from Kamal, and I hadn’t filed for divorce myself like my friends had advised.

  I still hadn’t heard from him or Jordan again and I hoped they were both suffering in some way. All I did was wish for them to be unhappy. I visited both of their Facebook and Instagram pages daily, although they’d unfriended me. My page was full of pictures of me pretending to be doing just fine to taunt them. I knew that they were stalking my pages too. In all actuality my world was in shambles and I didn’t know what I was going to do to put the pieces back together again.

  “Hold up Cherie,” I said when I noticed my Aunt Monica’s number pop up on my phone’s screen.

  I got up and walked out of the room to talk to her.

  “Hey Sash, what’s going on?”

  “What’s not going on? Everything’s in red. My account has been depleted. The mortgage and utilities alone take up my severance and unemployment. What about the fact that I have to eat and have a vehicle?” I explained to my Aunt Mo.

  “Maybe you should trade in the Range for something more practical, or sell the house and get something smaller. You and Kamal bought that house because you planned to have kids, but…”

  Tuning her out, I figured that was one of the reasons he’d left too. I wanted to wait to have children, but he didn’t. Jordan wanted babies so bad and was willing to give up her career to be a housewife. Was that why he’d chosen her over me?

  “I’ll figure it out Auntie,” I told her. “I gotta go. Cherie’s here and we’re planning her brother’s birthday party.”

  She let out a loud sigh. “It’ll all work out baby girl. You can always come here. Jeremiah’s gone, so it’ll just be us girls until you figure everything out.”

  “Thank you so much.” I was grateful for the offer, but there was no way I could live with her though. I was a grown ass woman and I had to figure things out for myself. One thing about me was, I never ran away from a challenge.

  I ended the call and returned to the living room where Cherie was.

  “Sorry about that,” I told her.

  “It’s cool,” she said with a nod. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m good.” I put on a fake smile and thought that it was best to keep it moving instead of dwelling on what I couldn’t change.

  “You been talking to somebody…?”

  “No, I haven’t had therapy or counseling since high school.”

  Cherie nodded. “I mean, I know that I’m here and all, but you might need a professional to help you.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” I assured her.

  “Okay, I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed and…”

  “Like I said…I’m good.”

  “You know that the class reunion’s coming up,” she changed the subject.

  “Yeah, but I’m not going.”

  “I am. I can’t wait to see how those bitches I don’t like have fallen off. I see all those hoes on Facebook who thought they were the shit and be like damn.” She laughed, but my mind was elsewhere.

  “Cherie, I gotta come up with something, or I’m gonna lose everything.”

  Her eyes were full of concern as she stared at me. “What you mean?”

  “I can’t afford to maintain my lifestyle. I can’t find a job in my field that pays enough to cover everything. If I don’t do something soon, I’ll lose it all. There’s no way I can let that shit happen Cherie. Do ya’ll need a drug mule or something? I know I don’t have experience in drug smuggling, but I can learn.”

  Cherie laughed at me. “Girl bye. I’ll give you a loan, but you too damn loud and crazy to carry drugs around. You got too much damn mouth and we’ll all be locked the fuck up messing with you.”

  That shit made me mad. “For real? You think I’m some reckless ass bitch who don’t know how to…”

  “Please, stop it. If you need money just let me know. I’ll pay you for your party planning. Okay. That’ll help…”

  “What about after the party Cherie? I still have to maintain after that.”

  “I’ll see what I can do boo, but we don’t fuck with amateurs. I’m just keeping it one hundred with you. It don’t work like that. You can’t just decide to be a drug smuggler one day ‘cause your bills are overdue. That’s some real life shit. You get caught you get fucked.”

  I knew what she meant, but damn. A bitch was desperate and I had to come up with something. Becoming accustomed to a certain lifestyle made it hard for me to take my Aunt’s advice. Sell my Range and my house? Hell nah.

  “You know what. I need some time alone. You should leave now,” I told her.

  She looked at me like I’d gone bananas. “Your ass is bipolar as fuck. You told me to come over to discuss the party and now you want me to leave?”

  “Yeah, I need to think. We’ll discuss the party later. Shit, we got two months, damn. It ain’t that serious.”

  Cherie grabbed her purse, threw the strap on her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t be a bitch right now, ‘cause you don’t want me to snap.”

  “I ain’t trying to be a bitch. You already know the bullshit I got going on Cherie. Don’t make this shit worse.”

  She shook her head and walked to the door. “A’ight. I’ll give you your space, but don’t you forget who’s been here for you.”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye.”

  She slammed the door and the silence was enough to make
me want to leave. I grabbed my keys and headed to my father’s place. He would understand me.

  * * *

  “Baby girl, now you know I always told you that if you can’t sell nothing else, you can always sell pussy,” my pops said all blatantly as I stared at him in disbelief.

  “Are you serious?” I asked him.

  “I don’t mean sell your pussy. C’mon. I’m your father, I’d never advise you to do that shit. I’m talking about you following in my footsteps. Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world and it’ll be the last. Mufuckas gon’ pay for pussy ‘till the end of time.”

  Shaking my head at my pops, I asked. “How am I supposed to get bitches to sell their pussy for me? I don’t know the first thing about that shit.”

  My pops smiled slyly at me. “And I know everything about it. Let me take you under my wing and you won’t want for shit again.”

  I thought about it. Maybe avoiding the street life and trying to go the straight and narrow had been my undoing. It was in my blood to go against the grain, so what if defying that had put me in my current position.

  “You still didn’t answer my question though. How am I supposed to get women to trust me? I’m just another woman. Don’t women get men as pimps to protect them?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but it’s a new time. All you have to do is offer them something that they feel like they can’t acquire by themselves, or with a male pimp. You got nice cars and nice things. Find some vulnerable bitches and tell them that they can get the same shit if they work for you. Sometimes you gotta embellish and tell a few lies. Use the power of manipulation and control. If you carry yourself a certain way, those bitches will follow your every command gratefully.”

  “Hmm, you might be right pops.” I’d always been a master of manipulation. “So, how do you recommend I start? My bills were due like yesterday.”

  All I had to do was floss and flaunt what I’d obtained and promise vulnerable women that they could get the same if they had sex for money. The thing was, my cut would be what would keep me afloat. I had to convince them to let me handle all of the business and finances and in return they’d be well taken care of.

  “You know I’ll never let you be in a fucked up situation, so I got you as far as catchin’ your bills up. If you want a long term solution, which I’m sure you do, since you are used to being independent, I got you on that too. I’ll take you under my wing and teach you all about the business.”

  I thought about what my father was proposing. It seemed like a good idea, but then again it didn’t. My father was a street pimp, and although he made a lot of money, what he did was dangerous as hell. If I was going to take on that particular business venture, it would have to be on a different level. I wanted to run an escort service with high end clients and premium pussy.

  My girls were going to be cultured and classy, well at least I wanted them to be. In all honesty what woman who sold pussy was really cultured and classy? Well, as long as she could play the part that was fine by me.

  “Pops, I want to do things a little different than you.” I filled him in on my vision and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with a nod.

  “Well, it is a different time. You can do like an upscale Backpage type of thing. Shit. Bitches be sellin’ ass on Craigslist. Maybe you can put up a website and pretend like it’s a casting, or modeling agency as a cover up. The clients can pick their girls and pay up front. Then it will look legit as hell. Just get some girls and a website,” my pops advised.

  “Damn, that’s brilliant, but how do I get my girls and my clientele up?” He made it all sound so simple.

  “Oh, gettin’ girls will be the easy part. Plus, you know people. Gettin’ your clientele up will be the real challenge. Work on havin’ a market in place to sell pussy to. What about all the contacts you made when you worked at the marketing firm? Those rich mufuckas will spend money on some pussy. Then you got Sergio and his crew, who may be on the other side of the law, but don’t mind spendin’ too. Then I know a few athletes and big spenders on my end. Oh, baby girl. You gon’ be straight. All we gotta do after that is work on security. Your girls gotta be well protected. That’s what a pimp is for anyway. Otherwise those bitches don’t need you.”

  Taking in everything that my pops said, I made a mental note to call Serg. He could help me with clientele and security. Not only that, but I was sure he could help me find some girls too. It was time to give up my nine to five ambitions and do some shit that was going to sustain the lifestyle that I was used to. I didn’t give a damn if I had to sell my soul in the process. Besides, I was no angel anyway.

  Chapter 8

  It felt like I had taken a crash course in pimpology 101 over the past week. I made it my business to spend as much time picking my father’s brain as possible. Although he’d been charged with human trafficking, he assured me that he’d never made a woman do anything against her will. That charge was only due to the fact that he traveled over state lines with his prostitutes.

  “The thing is, I don’t force a bitch to do nothin’ she don’t wanna do. When I started pimpin’ back in the nineties, it was because your mama asked me to. She needed me to protect her from her old pimp and that’s how it all started. After I saw how much money could be made, I got her to recruit more girls for me. All of them wanted to do what they were doin’. I ain’t never make them do shit. I won’t lie. I had to knock a few of ‘em in the mouth and put the fear of God in ‘em, but that was for a good reason. Shit, if you instill fear, you don’t have to worry ‘bout one of them rattin’ on you. See, if they got caught up out there by the cops or decided to quit the business, I had to be sure that they’d keep their mouths shut. It’s a new time and you gon’ have to go about that a different way. I’m sure that you can pull it off though. You my daughter.”

  His words resonated in my head as I sat there at a table in the strip club’s VIP. Magic City was one of the A’s most popular Gentlemen’s Club and I was there for a business meeting. Serg had set me up to talk to a few girls who worked there. They wanted to step their game up because they wanted more than stripper status and money. He was a regular at the club and those chicks had actually asked him to be their pimp before. Of course he wasn’t in that line of business, but when I went to him about my business venture he was ready to put me on.

  “Oh, those hoes ready to get down. The only thing is they don’t trust none of them pimps ‘round here. They say all they want to do is beat a bitch’s ass and take all their money. All you need to do is wear your most expensive outfit and jewels with a Hermes bag to show off. They’ll be eatin’ out the palm of your hand.”

  I hoped he was right.

  The first chick I talked to was called Miss Kitty at the club. She was medium height with a bootylicious figure, dark brown skin, pretty light brown eyes and piercings in her cheeks. Her long, honey colored weave was straight, parted in the middle and flowed down to the top of her massive ass. Damn, I could definitely make some money off her.

  Instead of going by my real name, I introduced myself to her as Fiona. For some reason that sounded like a pimp name to me. Serg joked and said that I was a Madame, since I was a female. Honestly, I preferred to be called a pimp, because it wasn’t just a title, but a verb. Pimping was an action and I planned to milk it for all it was worth.

  “So, Miss Kitty, are you sure you want to do this? It’s not the same as twerkin’ in this club, but you’ll make way more money. Not only that, but you won’t have to work as much.” My expensive bag sat on the table front and center.

  I could see her eyes traveling from the diamonds in my ears to the huge rock on my ring finger. Yeah, I was still wearing my wedding band, but only because I couldn’t quite part with the ten carat rock yet.

  “Hell yeah.” Her eyes were wide with sheer greed. “I mean, obviously it’s been lucrative for you.”

  Although she was street savvy, there was still a sort of vulnerability to her. That meant that she’d be easy for me to
control.

  A laugh escaped my lips as I took a sip of Ace of Spade. “Yes, my girls make lots of money and I’m positive that you could make just as much, if not more.” It was important to make her think that I was already established in the game.

  She wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, but I poured her a glass anyway.

  When the waitress came back to the table, I was sure to pull out a wad of money and passed her a hundred-dollar tip. By that time Miss Kitty was salivating.

  “I’m so tired of this damn club. When can I start?”

  Taking another sip of my drink, I simply said, “I’ll be in contact with you. It’s a process boo. See, I don’t just sell any pussy. I sell the best. It’s no way I’ll put you right to work after only one meeting. It’s levels to this shit Miss Kitty. I thought you knew that.”

  There was a nervous smile on her face when she looked at me. “Sorry for jumpin’ the gun. I’m just…”

  “Anxious…I know and I understand. It’s a good thing that you’re hungry. I like that. Well, I have more girls to see. Thanks for your time. You can go now.”

  There was a serious look on my face as she stood up.

  “Uh, okay.” She scurried away and a sly smile decorated my features.

  Hmm, I could get used to that shit. It made me feel powerful as hell. After feeling powerless for so long, it felt damn good. I was determined to be the one on top and then I’d handle my lying, cheating husband and my back stabbing best friend.

  * * *

  After wrapping up my short meet and greet with the other two chicks, I decided to finish off my bottle of Ace and leave. To be honest, I wasn’t that impressed with the last prospect. She was light skinned with long red braids, slim built, loud and ghetto as hell, which made me wonder if she was on something. I mean, ratchet wasn’t part of what I planned to sell. Besides, I didn’t need chicks with hard drug habits on my team.

  The second chick though, her name was Reign. There was something about the way she carried herself. I strongly believed that just because a chick was interested in selling sex, or the fantasy, it didn’t mean she had to carry herself like a whore. There was nothing wrong with having dignity about what you do. Shit, at least they were getting paid. Half of the women out there sucked and fucked for absolutely free, so who was winning?