by Meta Smith
Tonight was going to be the biggest night of her life thus far and things were only getting better. Dez was practically giddy with happiness and could barely contain herself. She’d just realized hours earlier that she was pregnant, and she couldn’t wait to tell the love of her life, Bentley, that they were going to be parents. She pushed back the niggling voice in her head that told her the baby might not be Bentley’s, but his brother Sparks’ child. There was no room for doubt or negative thoughts on a night like this, the night of the BET Awards.
She stepped out of her luxe hotel suite and headed downstairs to the awaiting stretch Hummer that was going to take her to the ceremony. The Hummer was filled with her label mates as well as Bentley and Sparks. They were more than her crew; they were family. Dez felt so much love and joy being surrounded by the people she cared about most. It had been a long time since she’d been this happy.
The Hummer pulled up in front of the Kodak Theater and Dez emerged as resplendent as a goddess. She was only a few weeks along in her pregnancy, but she was glowing already. She strutted the red carpet holding Bentley’s hand. He gave it a squeeze as they did their thing for the journalists reporting the pre-award show coverage.
Bentley was the chart-topping king of hip-hop and together they were the ultimate power couple; both were nominated for several BET Awards. Dez was confident that they were going to rack up in every category that they were nominated in. As if there was any competition! No man could touch Bentley and there wasn’t a woman on the scene who could hold a candle to her. Their label, Titanium Records, was producing the hottest shit in the streets and it was their turn to get their just due for all the hard work they’d put in.
But as Dez posed for the paparazzi snapping her picture every few steps, something went horribly wrong. The sound of gunshots filled the air, then searing pain wracked her body as people clamored for safety, stampeding the red carpet.
She’d been shot!
She looked around for Bentley. They’d gotten separated in the chaos but she couldn’t find him and felt herself growing weak. Then everything went black…
August 2002
Miami
Bentley hadn’t planned to come to the strip club alone, but somehow as if on auto-pilot, he’d found himself solo at Tootsie’s Cabaret. He bypassed the crowd, went straight to a hidden section reserved for the most elite clientele, and had the floorman bring him a girl.
“Thick,” was Bentley’s only request when asked what kind of girl he desired. Tootsie’s was full of white girls and thin, runway model types, two types of women he usually avoided. But he wasn’t disappointed when the floorman returned with the delectable specimen, a thick white chick
who didn’t hesitate to bend over, spread her legs wide and make her bare pussy pulse to the beat of the music with amazing muscle control.
Bentley lit a blunt, then threw his head back and blew thick rings of smoke into the air as the thick white girl selected for his sensual enter- tainment clapped her enormous, peach-shaped ass in front of him. He’d never seen a white chick with a body like hers before, let alone one who could work her shit the way this one was working it.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Ivory,” she said, with a slight Southern drawl, peering over her shoul- der as her ass bounced to the beat. “I just moved to Miami from Atlanta.” Bentley gave her rounded ass cheek a hearty slap and blew smoke be-
tween her legs. Ivory turned around and faced Bentley with a coy smile. “So, do you mind if I have a puff of that, sugar?” she asked, motioning
to the fat blunt Bentley smoked. “It smells so good.”
“You can have that and a whole lot more,” he said suggestively as he handed her the weed and watched Ivory slip the brown blunt between her glossy pink lips. They were full and luscious, just like the rest of her, and probably the only thing on her that had been surgically altered. The ripe, juicy tits and voluptuous ass were God-given, and had more than likely been enhanced by a diet of soul food. Country white girls were no strangers to cornbread and collard greens, especially not country white girls who fucked with black dudes. Bentley could tell that Ivory fucked with black dudes heavy even when they weren’t customers. She just had that demeanor.
“What more do you have for me, Sugar?” Ivory asked with a flirtatious grin, sliding on top of Bentley’s lap and straddling him. Ivory rotated her hips slowly and sensually. Bentley grabbed her ass and pulled her closer to him. Ivory could feel Bentley’s dick hardening between her legs. It gave her a rush. She took another deep pull of the blunt and moaned at the sen- sation of his thick dick stimulating her clit through his pants.
“Anything you want,” Bentley replied, equally as flirtatious. “Pick a pocket.” Bentley said, motioning towards his sides. Ivory extinguished the blunt and slipped her hand into the right pocket of Bentley’s Versace jacket. She pulled out a baggie of pastel-colored pills.
“Do I only get to pick one pocket?” Ivory asked, pouting. “Not a pill girl, huh?” Bentley asked. Ivory nodded.
“Well, try again. I think you might find something that you like.”
Ivory reached into Bentley’s left pocket and pulled out a bag of white powder.
“Ooh, my favorite! Miami snow,” Ivory cooed. “Let’s play in it!”
“Knock yourself out,” Bentley said. “I’m good.” “But, I hate to party alone,” Ivory complained.
“It’s all good. I like to watch,” Bentley replied. He’d been trying to cut down on the drugs lately. Since Dez had been shot he’d been getting as high as he could to numb the persistent pain of not knowing whether the woman he loved with all of his heart was ever going to come back to him. Before that fateful night, Bentley never touched anything stronger than weed, but weed didn’t pack the punch he needed to block out the emotional agony he constantly felt.
“Suit yourself,” Ivory said, disappointed. She removed herself from Bentley’s lap and poured out a bit of the blow onto the black, lacquered cocktail table in front of them. Then she used a matchbook cover to chop up a line. Ivory pulled a hundred dollar bill from her garter, rolled it, then snorted the line up. Bentley stared at her ass as she bent over the table inhaling the coke. Who was he kidding? He didn’t have the kind of will- power it took to resist the drugs or the fat ass in front of him. He was going to indulge in both until he couldn’t feel the pain anymore.
Bentley caressed Ivory’s ass as she tooted another fat line of coke. “On second thought, I think I will join you. Save some for me,” he said.
Ivory grinned. She used her long, pink, crystal-covered fingernail to scoop up a mountain of coke and lay back on the couch. She tapped the powder from her fingernail onto her cleavage and beckoned for Bentley to come snort it from between her breasts. He did as she wished then let his tongue slide over her erect, pink nipples. Ivory had Bentley pre- cisely where she wanted him: between her thick thighs. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, moaning with pleasure. He licked down her belly and stopped just short of her dripping wet pussy. He sat up abruptly, leaving Ivory panting while he popped a couple of the pills, and washed them down with champagne straight from the bottle that had been chilling on ice.
“You ever had anyone do blow off your clit?” Bentley asked Ivory. “No, but it sounds fun,” Ivory said with a giggle.
“Spread your legs,” Bentley commanded. Ivory did as she was told. Bentley opened her up with his fingers and played with her clitoris until it was swollen and fat and stood at attention. Then he used a folded dollar bill to scoop a mound of coke onto the hood of her clit. He bent over her and snorted the mound off. Ivory shivered. Bentley repeated the process of dumping a mound of coke onto Ivory’s clit again, this time licking it off. He swirled his tongue around her clit until she was writhing and then stopped, teasingly prolonging her pleasure. He alternated this process a
few times until Ivory moaned, “Ooh Sugar, I’m gonna cum!”
Bentley ravaged Ivory’s pussy
as she bucked her hips, whimpered and the muscles of her snatch contracted rhythmically. He licked her until Ivory pushed his head away and looked at him with lust.
“My turn,” she growled seductively. Ivory unbuckled Bentley’s pants and slid them and his boxer briefs down to his ankles and over one foot. She spread his legs and gently pushed him back on the couch. His dick was rock hard and standing tall. Ivory was impressed. Most men couldn’t do coke, weed, pills and drink and maintain a hard-on, but Bentley’s dick was throbbing visibly.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. Fuck the theatrics of lining his cock with coke and snorting it off, Ivory thought. She vacuumed a line of coke up her nose instead then descended on Bentley’s dick with passionate fury. Bentley groaned as she swallowed his dick all the way down to the balls. “That’s right. Suck that shit,” he said as he grabbed a handful of her long, blonde hair. Bentley closed his eyes and fucked Ivory’s mouth with a vengeance, picturing Dez’s face as he came in Ivory’s eagerly awaiting
mouth.
She licked her lips as she savored every drop of his cream.
“You good? Do you need anything, Sugar?” Ivory asked Bentley as she rose from her knees and poured herself a glass of champagne.
“Just a few minutes and a few more bumps. Then I need some more of you,” he replied. Ivory was pleased with his answer. The happier he was and the higher he was, the better her night would be.
“Think you can handle that?” Bentley asked.
“Hell yeah,” Ivory replied, mentally calculating how much money she was gonna tax Bentley for. The money she’d make that night in VIP was one thing, but her story would be worth so much more to the media. She looked up at the discretely hidden security camera and grinned wickedly. Sparks grumbled as he picked up the cell phone that rang on the night- stand beside his bed. He peered through sleep-bleary eyes at the screen. It was 6:30 AM and his brother Bentley had finally decided to call him after being a no-show in the studio earlier. He understood that Bentley was dis- tracted; so much had happened in the past month. Bentley had watched helplessly as Dez got shot while standing only inches away from him. To make things worse, Bentley had learned that he lost a baby he hadn’t even known he was expecting. Sparks sympathized with his younger brother, but times like these were when real men G’d up, they didn’t fall apart.
“Oh, you finally decide to call now?” Sparks spat into the phone with disgust.
“Sparks, this isn’t Bentley, this is Lisette, the bottle service girl over at Tootsie’s,” a female voice replied to Sparks instead of Bentley.
“Oh, hey Lisette. What’s up? Did Bentley leave his phone there or something?” Sparks asked.
“Sorry to call you so early but he left more than his phone; he’s still here. You might want to send someone to come and get your brother. When I was leaving to go home he was still drinking in VIP and trying to get his keys after Ivory cleaned him out. I had the cook fix him something to eat and I’ve been looking after him for the last hour but I’ve got to go home to my kid. His sitter charges extra when I’m late and it was a slow night. I can’t really afford to pay extra. I can have the bouncers put him in a cab and send him to wherever you are, I mean, his credit cards are still in his wallet so he can get to wherever, but he’s really messed up. I just don’t want anyone to fuck with him or take advantage,” Lisette explained.
“Damn, thanks Lisette. I really appreciate you looking out. You know I’ll take care of you when I get there,” Sparks promised.
“When will that be?” Lisette asked impatiently.
“Call your babysitter and tell her you’ll pay her double if she can give you another hour of her time. That’ll give me time to get to you and give you time to get to her. I’ll take care of that and a little something for your troubles,” Sparks said, grateful that Lisette had been the one to find him rather than some other waitress looking for a come-up. She was good peo- ple, always looking out for him and his crew when they fell through the spot. Unfortunately this wasn’t the first time Lisette and Sparks had this type of conversation. Lately, Sparks had been paying bottle service girls, bouncers and doormen all over Miami to chaperone Bentley, who couldn’t seem to stay out of the club or stay sober.
“Thanks Sparks. I’ll take care of him as best I can, but get here soon before the manager decides to call an ambulance or something. He’s really fucked up this time. I’m scared for him,” Lisette said, her voice trembling.
“I’m on the way.” Sparks disconnected the call and hopped out of bed. He dressed quickly and called the valet of his high-rise condo building on South Beach. After he retrieved his Lambo, he drove at breakneck speed up the causeway and connected to I-95 North. By the time he reached Tootsie’s, which was located near the border between Dade and Broward County, he was fuming. His custom tires made a screeching noise as he pulled up in front of the massive strip club and stormed inside.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a gargantuan bouncer asked as
Sparks tried to bogard his way inside the closed club.
“My brother is inside. They’re expecting me,” Sparks said angrily. “Excuse me.”
“The club is closed,” the bouncer replied, blocking the entryway with his body.
“Are you really trying to do this with me?” Sparks asked. Sparks knew good and goddamned well that the bouncer knew who he was and why he was there.
“Club opens at noon,” the bouncer replied.
Sparks took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He pulled a few hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and slid them to the bouncer. The bouncer didn’t even look at the cash.
“Oh that’s how we’re playing it, huh? This ain’t enough? How much do you need?” Sparks asked incredulously, throwing the bills in the bouncer’s face. The bouncer gave him a shit-eating grin. Sparks hated par- asites and scammers. They were always on the lookout for a way to finagle somebody out of something instead of hustling themselves like the bosses they always pretended to be.
“Go home. The pussy will be here in a few hours,” the bouncer said dismissively.
“Listen. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we’re going to do this,” Sparks replied. The bouncer squared up and got in Sparks’s face.
“You ain’t gone do shit,” he said.
Sparks put his hand on his waistband, but didn’t draw the weap- on that he had discretely hidden in his pants. Sparks wasn’t taking any chances after the shooting at the awards show and always carried a con- cealed weapon on him ever since. He wasn’t afraid to use it either. But this asshole wasn’t worth the trouble and Sparks was hoping he didn’t have to go there.
“What the fuck are you doing, Terrell?” Lisette asked, sudden- ly appearing in the doorway and punching the bouncer in the arm. She squeezed past him. “I’ve been trying to go home for the longest and this is who I’ve been waiting for! Move out the goddamned way!”
Sparks was relieved that Lisette had come to the front door and in- tervened. He was highly annoyed and things could have gotten ugly real quick. Sparks was tired of all the bullshit that had been coming his way lately. Since Dez had gotten shot, it had been a field day for opportunists trying to score off her tragic story, from girls who’d worked with her at strip clubs and in music videos, to run-of-the-mill folks spreading gossip
about what her man was doing while she was in a coma. Media outlets were paying top dollar for any info connected to the young starlet, and where there’s cheese there are bound to be rats. Sparks was fed up with all of it but what could he do? He’d tried talking to Bentley, telling him to stay focused, tried distracting him with work, even tried to convince him to turn to God, but nothing could pull his brother out of his depres- sion and self-destructive behavior. Plus, Sparks was hemorrhaging money after footing Dez’s medical bills. His tension and stress level was at an all-time high.
“Come with me,” Lisette said in a frustrated tone to Sparks as the bouncer Terrell glowered at them. He hesitated but mov
ed aside as they entered the club. She led him to the VIP section where Bentley had com- pletely crashed. He was laid out, snoring and slobbering all over himself, sprawled out on the cracked, black, imitation-leather couches.
“What the fuck?” Sparks exclaimed, his voice full of both disgust and pity. Bentley was his brother and he was hurting, but hell, they were both hurting. There was no excuse for this type of behavior. Sparks loved Dez too. They had engaged in a brief, clandestine affair while she and Bentley had temporarily broken up, and he had feelings for her deep enough to swim in. But she belonged to his brother Bentley and he respected that. Still, it killed Sparks to see the woman he loved lying in a hospital bed unconscious just as much as it hurt his brother. They just handled things completely different. Sparks was so disappointed in Bentley.