Roxanne: From Addict to Hustler

by King Benjamin

  Roxanne

  A King Benjamin Novel

  This is a King Benjamin Presents publication

  All rights reserved © 2015 by King Benjamin

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the publisher except brief quotes used in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Any reference or similarities to actual events, real people living or dead or real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, placed and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Connect with King Benjamin:

  Facebook: Author King Benjamin

  Twitter: @kbwordplayz

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the most important person in my life, my daughter Dalejah Deanna Jackson. I continue to strive to be all I can be because of you.

  Acknowledgments

  As always I have to give a big shout out to my DAA family. Authoress Kenya Rivers, India Norfleet, Danielle Marcus, and Lakelia Deloach-Lucus. Love you all to death! Special shout out to my day one readers and supporters. I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Special thanks to my homey Duke for pushing me and constantly encouraging me to pursue my God given talent as a career. Last, but certainly not least, I must thank God for giving me the strength and perseverance to follow through and weather every storm it took to get here.

  Roxanne

  Prologue

  Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack! That’s all I could ever think about. I’m telling you, I was a mess. You kinda had to be there to see it for yourself, in order to understand the depths of my rock bottom. All the ways I schemed to get drugs and the lows I stooped to, just to get high. No matter what, it was never enough. To be honest with you, I’d love to be smoking me some crack right now, but it’s been five long years since I kicked my habit. Unbelievable, right?

  I doubt if I’ll ever go back to it either. I got too many bad memories. I still have nightmares about some of the things that happened to me when I was getting high. The crazy thing is that as soon as I decided to get clean, I met a man that would change my life forever, but because of the choices I made afterward, I found myself in much more danger than I’d ever seen on the streets as a crackhead.

  See-I-never mind, never mind. I don’t want to give away too much too soon. I’ll explain it all to you the best way I can, but you have to forgive me if I forget some things. That crack is a bad mutherfucker. Where should I start? Hmmm. The beginning I guess.

  Chapter 1

  Well, I’m originally from Toledo, Ohio, The Buckeye State. I grew up with a fucked up mom and a fucked up dad. It didn’t do me much good to have both parents in the household because neither was really fit to raise children. My parents were high school sweethearts, but by the time they got married, I heard through the grapevine it was only because my mom was pregnant with my older sister, Carrie.

  When I was ten, I caught Dad with my mom bent over the bathroom sink, giving her back shots while she tried to keep the noise down. I guess they were still quite fond of each other then, but it wasn’t long after that the relationship went completely sour. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face before she realized I was standing there. It was a look of sheer pleasure and it was something in her eyes I had never seen before.

  It’s sad, but true, at ten years old, I was already curious as to what sex felt like. By age eleven I had a firm grip on the fact that I was gonna be a pretty hot chic, with my long blond hair and my baby blue eyes. By twelve I had a fire in my stride and everybody who was anybody wanted to be friends with me. In the summer CCarrie and I would always stay out late, because my mom and dad were always out partying like they were teenagers, even though they were pushing thirty.

  My mom got pregnant with Carrie at sixteen and a little over two years later with me. I think the problem was my mom and dad just never grew up. They were very young in a serious relationship, but they cheated on each other constantly. I grew up listening to them argue about it on a weekly basis. By the time I reached high school, my dad had left us for good. Carrie and I didn’t really give a shit, because he never paid us any attention when he was around anyway.

  I went to Scotts High School where I had a small clique of five that was composed of the most popular freshmen in the school. It was three black girls and two white girls. Kinda strange, right? But not really, because I was the one from the hood and my best friend, Keisha, who was black, was originally from Perrysburg. She moved to the area at age twelve and we went to middle school together, but got real tight that summer before high school started. I would even spend the night at her house sometimes.

  When I got to Scotts High there was only one other white girl in the school, so we hooked up immediately. Her name was Mary and she was super cool. A few weeks later, Keisha transferred to Scotts because her cousin and I went there. We weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer, but we were the shit. I lost my virginity at twelve years old to Jimmy Javner, who was fifteen, while Carrie watched from the closet. He was my neighbor’s nephew who visited on weekends. It was quick and painful and then nothing happened again until two years later.

  By fourteen, I was just dying for somebody - anybody to jump my bones, so I could feel that sensation of a dick inside me again. Keisha and I were on the cheerleading squad, so I had plenty of football players to choose from, but Keisha always made me feel guilty about trying to get laid. She was a lot more conservative about sex and she would always tell me if I wasn’t going to wait, at least wait until I found a guy who really liked me and wanted to be my boyfriend.

  She practiced what she preached, though, I’ll give her that. Keisha had every boy in the school trying to hit on her, because she was really pretty with a really nice ass at a young age. She was almost fifteen before she finally decided to give somebody a shot and wouldn’t you know, it was the quarterback and captain of our football team.

  So, for a while she made me keep my freaky side low-key, but one day I just decided to say fuck Keisha; she’s the goodie two shoes, not me. I lived right across the street from this black guy named Damon, who always came to my house after my mother was drunk and asleep. Carrie would sometimes just leave to go hang with boys.

  Damon was my dude because I could tell he really liked me. At first, we would just sit on the back porch at night and smoke weed, talking about who was cool in school and who wasn’t. I knew our conversations would lead to sex sooner or later. It was impossible not to be attracted to his wavy hair and smooth tan skin, matched with a million-dollar smile. I remember I used to always watch his lips when he talked and I’d be wishing he would kiss me.

  He never did, so I got tired of wishing. I took the matter into my own hands and I kissed him first. I guess he was just the kind of guy that needed a signal first, because once I kissed him he was all over me. Carrie had already been with a couple of black guys and she said they had big dicks, so I was expecting Damon to be packing and boy was he ever. Although I had nothing to compare his with but Jimmy Javner’s at the time, I knew a big gun when I was holding it. I snuck Damon up to my room and we got it on not once, but twice before he went home. Once I went black, I thought I’d never go back. Seriously.

  When I let Damon out that night, my sister who had just turned seventeen, was just coming home. A Fleetwood Cadillac was pulling away as she eased in, smelling like sex.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Just a friend, mind your business,” Carrie said.

  “Some friend,” I countered, because he was driving a new Cadillac and all.

  “I should be asking you why the fuck is Damon leaving out of here at four in the morning?”

&nb
sp; I quickly changed the subject. “Was that his car?”

  “Yes, it was his car, why?”

  “I was just asking. So, where did you guys go?” I continued to pry.

  “Mind your business, Roxanne.”

  But I didn’t. I persisted.

  “I’ll tell you all about me and Damon, if you tell me about your friend.” Truthfully, I was just dying to tell somebody about my blissful experience with Damon anyway. I gave up all the goods on my ordeal and Carrie held firm and told me nada. It wasn’t until weeks later when I found out that Carrie’s friend was actually her pimp. I was walking down Collingwood Road coming from school when the white Fleetwood rode up alongside me and the window came down.

  “You want a ride?” Carrie called out from the passenger side.

  “Fuck yeah!” I said as she opened the door. I climbed in and the driver introduced himself as Wheels. He was tall, dark and decent looking, but I found out later he was blessed with a golden tongue, in more ways than one. The man was a slick talker to the tenth power and once he began to address me directly, I was instantly attracted to him.

  “So baby girl tells me you a cheerleader, huh?”

  “Yeah. I like dancing and jumping and shit.” I cursed just to sound more adult.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s good to keep up some sort of physical activity. It keeps the body nice and firm. See, you don’t have to worry about that right now at your age, but if you keep it up you’ll be thanking yourself later. You’ll still be as beautiful as you are now twenty years from now.”

  So he thought I was beautiful? I thought. As his hands gripped the steering wheel, I quickly noticed the gold rings on his fingers, filled with sparkling diamonds. As Wheels continued to drive me home I sat in the back, listening to him run his game on Carrie about how to be a team player and all. When we reached my house, I got out of the car, but Carrie stayed.

  “Where y’all about to go?” I pried.

  “Stop being so fucking nosey, Roxanne.”

  “I wanna go,” I pleaded, just knowing wherever they went would be more fun than staying home.

  “You can’t go with us baby girl, not yet anyway,” Wheels explained with a slick grin. Apparently, I was too young to hang with them, but as I walked up our driveway, I looked back and caught Wheels leering at me. He had to be at least thirty years old, but by now my breasts were fuller and I even had a nice little hump on my backside.

  I could tell he wanted me, and it made me feel good to know I could get a grown man’s attention without even trying. So, later on that night, Carrie let me in on her big secret and revealed that Wheels was her pimp, and that she traded sexual favors for money. But the way she explained it made it sound fun and exciting to me. By now my sex drive was the best thing life had to offer, as far as I was concerned. I was gonna give it to Damon every chance I got.

  “So where is your money?” I asked Carrie.

  “He saves it for me. Says he’s gonna buy me a car.”

  The car never came, but as time went on, Carrie did begin to dress a lot better. Since we were about the same size, I’d steal her short blue jean skirts and heels to wear them to school. I looked better in her clothes than she did, because my body was better than Carrie’s and I was prettier than her.

  Don’t get me wrong, Carrie was hot, but her face was too long, like Daddy’s face. Dressing like a hooker got me even more attention and my girls start hating, like bitches do. Keisha never hated on me, but we began to grow distant because she was always trying to get me to act like her; all classy and shit.

  But fuck that, Roxanne was gonna do what Roxanne was wanted to do. But Keisha was my girl, so I tried to listen to her, instead of telling her to fuck off. At fifteen, I asked Wheels if I could work for him, but he said I was too young.

  I don’t really know why I wanted to do it, but it just sounded so adventurous. He promised me as soon as I turned seventeen that I could work for him. Meantime, I racked up numbers on my bedpost like I worked for an accounting firm.

  I felt in control back then, because I got to pick and choose who I slept with and how. Guys would try to get me to give them head, but I thought it was disgusting back then. I loved fucking, but I wasn’t sucking anybody’s dick. That all changed when I turned seventeen and a few months later, Wheels finally came for me.

  ****

  My sister was in jail for thirty days and Wheels said he really needed me to take on her clients, until I could develop my own. I couldn’t wait. I was gonna be the best hoe these Toledo streets had ever seen. I wasn’t interested in school anymore since I’d banged all the cute boys anyway. My mother still wasn’t living up to her obligation to raise me so I could devote as much time as Wheels needed me to, but first, he had to test the merchandise of course.

  He took me to a nice hotel and fed me drinks and a little weed. Once he knew I was loose, he just pulled out his rod and gave me instructions to perform. I told him I didn’t wanna suck dick and he giggled at my naïveté.

  “Bitch, that comes with the job,” he chuckled. I sat quietly, thinking that was the end of it until he grabbed the back of my head, and slowly guided my mouth to his penis. I ingested as much as I could, but I didn’t take it all in. He was gentle at first, but then he began coaxing me to take it all in. I gagged several times, but I didn’t give up. It became a challenge because he kept daring me to make him cum.

  He told me how to tighten my jaws around the dick, and how to nibble and circle the head with my tongue. He told me how to work different areas to bring out the sensations and aside from the pain I was getting in my neck, I began to enjoy pleasuring Wheels. Once again, I felt the power in my sexuality. That was until he shot come all in my mouth and told me not to spit it out. I ran to the bathroom and spit it out anyway. I spit and spit and spit until I thought it was all gone, but I still couldn’t get rid of the salty aftertaste.

  I looked in the mirror and my cheeks were rose red and beads of sweat covered my brow. Wheels came into the bathroom and handed me another drink, then reminded me that this is what I wanted to do. He then led me back out to the bed, laid me out, ate my pussy like it was steak and proceeded to fuck my brains out.

  It was by far the best sex I had ever experienced and I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs when he flipped me over, and began drilling me from behind while pulling my hair. When it was over, he told me I should perform just like I did with him, every time I’m with a client. He said to make every man feel like he’s the king of the jungle when he’s inside me.

  I listened to it all and made mental notes of every key point he made. He asked me about my mom and what she was gonna say when I stopped coming home every night. I told him the truth.

  “She’ll probably be happy,” I said.

  My mom didn’t want the responsibility of raising two kids. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she always worked and kept a roof over our heads and food on the table, but it was nothing like a normal household. She was glad when Carrie was old enough to take care of both of us.

  When she found out Carrie was a hooker she threw a fit and tried to act all mortified, but the next day she pretended that none of it ever even happened. So that night, he dressed me and sent me out to work on Cherry Street and I became his loyal subservient. Yes, I said subservient! I’m not stupid, you know. I had a 3.0 grade average when I dropped out in the twelfth grade. Since I was so young, my price was set at one hundred dollars and one fifty for blow jobs included.

  He told me a lot of Carrie's clients were used to paying seventy-five for a date and one hundred for everything, but that I needed to set the bar high for my own work. I paced up and down Cherry Street in my super tight mini skirt all of five minutes before my first trick came. I thought he was cute and was surprised that he thought he had to be out paying for it.

  I would have done him for free. He took me to a cheap motel and we had some mediocre sex for like ten minutes and that was that. I got my money and went back to the strip. Everything was goi
ng according to plan, but then this big, fat, bumpy, dark-purple looking fucker wanted a date and I said hell no! He even offered to pay extra, but I just couldn’t see it. No amount of money would have made me want to have sex with him. It turned out he was Wheels’s cousin, and he immediately called Wheels and told him that I had refused him a date. Twenty minutes later, Wheels bent the corner and hopped out steaming mad.

  “What the fuck you think this is?” he fumed.

  “What I do?” I said, backing up and feeling a little frightened.

  “Don’t you ever turn down no muthafucking date with my people!”

  “I didn’t know, sorry,” I explained.

  “Do you think this shit is a game?”

  “Nooo.”

  Just then bumpy face pulled up again and I looked at the smoke coming off the top of Wheels’s head. I knew I had no choice but to get in the car with him, or possibly get jumped on. We went to the motel and had disgusting sex that lasted all of five minutes. I started to seriously rethink my career choice while he pounded on me, dripping sweat from his fat funky frame. I made about six hundred dollars my first night, but I had turned down three dates from some more very undesirables.

  I still liked what I was doing to make the money, but I didn’t like fucking smelly, butt ugly fuckers like Wheels’s cousin to get it. That’s where Wheels and I eventually collided.

  He got wind that I was still turning away dates after being on the stroll for a week and he exploded. He told me I didn’t want to see his ugly side and boy did he mean it. See, the rules were that I wasn’t supposed to turn down any dates, with the exception of potential cops and S&M extremist dates that could be potentially dangerous. You know? The guys that want to tie you up and beat the shit out of you, instead of vice versa.

  So I was all dolled up and had struck a pose on the strip, focused on hitting high numbers on a Saturday night. Wheels pulled up slow with a gangster lean. At first, he just stared me down. He had a look that could be very menacing and I knew I had to have done something wrong to be on the receiving end of it.