Erotic City

by Pynk

  “But, Hunter, I’ll tell you who I can blame, aside from Ramada herself.” She made her way to her desk and sat along the corner while she grabbed her hair and fluffed out her length. “What I can do is blame the prosecutors. They know that each and every person who steps through that door signs a waiver, stating that we are not responsible for the decisions our patrons make while they’re in here. We have very strict rules and you know as well as I do that there was no knife.” Milan grabbed an ink pen and scribbled circles upon a Post-It.

  “Do we really know that?”

  “No one found a knife. We have metal detectors at the door. We don’t even allow cell phones.”

  “Maybe so, but because one of Big Mack’s bodyguards left before anyone knew what was going on, he could have snuck a knife out of there. And it didn’t have to be metal.”

  She paused her cryptic artwork. “Oh I see what you’re doing, Hunter. You’re playing devil’s advocate. Very good. But that’s my point. He still never would have gotten in here.”

  “Anything is possible, Milan.”

  “Maybe. But it would be highly unlikely.”

  “Look, I know you don’t want any unnecessary attention to your club. This should blow over. It’s just the news of the day because of the curiosity about Big Mack’s lifestyle. Especially because he’s married.”

  “Yeah well, married or not, that’s on him and his wife.”

  “Seems she’s left him already. I guess she had no idea he was into swinging and she told a radio station they’re through. She also knows he had some stripper come in with him so he could get in as part of a couple.”

  “Now, that is true.”

  “Anyway, from what Ramada Hart says, she wasn’t willing to finish her act upon him, wife or no wife. She tried to stop performing, and as you know, she says she was forced to finish.”

  “I know I’ve told you about her past relationship with Lavender. They have a child together and she’s been dealing Lavender hell cards from the day their son was conceived. Plus, she came in here with her so-called man and then went to another room to give a blow job without him so much as knowing she was anywhere other than in the ladies’ room. She puts the D in drama. I think she wanted to start some mess since Lavender’s still with me, and she did it one year to the day that she lost him. But, this is really a case between her and Big Mack. I’m all for standing up for victims who’re forced to do anything they choose not to participate in, but other than not allowing either back in here, there’s nothing much I can do. Shoot, if you came in here to get your freak on it would be none of my business. But, that would never happen, I’m sure.” She gave a mini laugh.

  “Very funny. And you are correct. It never would. Not with my wife. Not without my wife. It’s simply not my cup of tea.”

  “Like I said, that’s on you.”

  “Point made. I understand. We’ll deal with this next week. Let me do what I do best, okay? Defending, not swinging. And I was able to get the date pushed back since the prosecution’s trying to find some more witnesses. Nothing’s happening right away. Just let me do this.”

  Milan reached for a stack of mail, shuffling through the envelopes. “Okay. Go ahead. And I’m sorry about that little jab. You know me.”

  “Yeah. What I do know is you got your determination from your dad. That’ll get you far, Milan.”

  “I just want to get past this. Sorry to call you at home so late.”

  “No problem. Anytime.”

  “Good night.” Milan hung up, though she was not impressed by the fact that Attorney Wyatt used the word anytime. Anytime should have been her dad’s former attorney’s response, as he was being paid by the hour. And paid well. The last envelope in the stack was a bill for his retainer fee at three hundred per hour for an estimated thirty hours of work. And that was supposed to be a reduced rate. But, as usual, his high price was well earned, and Milan knew it.

  Lavender appeared at the door to Milan’s office looking like he was in full work mode. His adulation was evident. “Baby, do you know we’re at full capacity and we’ve only been open two hours? It’s amazing. We’ve never had a Sunday night like this since I’ve been here.”

  Milan glanced over at one of the front door monitors. “We’ve never had a night like this period. Bad publicity is still publicity. I’m sure they’re just a bunch of lookie-loos. Curious folks window-shopping for some T&A. But it is impressive considering Channel 3 is camped outside.”

  He pointed to the monitor as the bouncer screened a group of new members. “Baby, those people are doing more than looking. Eight out of ten beds in the group room are taken.”

  “So, I guess we should thank your nutty ex-girlfriend then, huh?”

  “Now, I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, just know that I’d rather have an empty club and no drama than a packed house and court dates up my ass.”

  “I’m with you.” Lavender headed back toward the office door. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or this club. That is a promise.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Milan told him as he exited her office with a wink.

  She talked out loud to herself, standing at the oversize one-way mirror, watching the crowded goings-on below. “I just have a bad-ass feeling about this. A real bad-ass feeling.”

  10

  “Sex Shooter”

  Monday, March 31, 2008

  1:15 a.m.

  Her name was Trudy.

  She was a regular.

  They called her Big Booty Trudy.

  And she was a squirter.

  A gusher.

  A shooter.

  A female ejaculator.

  Trudy was called the eighth wonder of the world of sex kittens. A bombshell. Not only for her gi-normous, second-to-none backside, that was actually a twenty-pound moon, looking like two midgets were fighting to stay in or get the hell out. It would cause quite a commotion wherever she’d go.

  But she was mainly known for her unique ability to cum in liquid form, shooting her fluid up to two feet ahead. Her waterworks talents were spellbinding.

  Some men in the club would joke that it was raining whenever they’d see the twenty-seven-year-old’s stream a-flowin. Envious female haters would swear she was really peeing on herself, but either way, Big Booty Trudy had a way of erupting that was a sight for sore eyes. And those who were on the other side of her eruption usually shot their shit within two-point-two seconds just from the sheer amazement of it all.

  Trudy laid it on the lucky stud of the evening with an expert wobble-wobble, shake-it shake-it move.

  Her satiny chocolate flesh was needy.

  She converged upon him, squatting in a reverse cowgirl. His dick peeled her lips apart. She pressed her pussy to its base.

  Her back was branded with a cursive BBT. Her cheeks were flushed. Major spillage hung over each side of him.

  Her roundness and girth pressed along his thighs. She did a solid bounce move, riding him like a pogo stick. It sounded like someone was getting their ass smacked with a wooden paddle. She gave new meaning to the term more bounce to the ounce.

  He didn’t get fucked.

  He got bucked.

  Her long weave was Shirley Temple curly and it swayed in direct response to her strong grind.

  She always smacked on a wad of Bubbilicious watermelon bubble gum. She’d chomp down on it every time she got her fuck on.

  Her wet pussy and massive ass ate his dick like she was downright hungry. She could toss a man around inside of her and slide up and down like his dick was a stripper pole. She was legendary.

  She bounced upward, making sure to secure his tip entry and abruptly lowered herself to the base of his scrotum, plopping down hard.

  She squeezed her inside muscles tight to grip his length, securing it all the way back, almost inserting it into the entrance of her cervix. His dick slid into place.

  She bore down, screaming inaudible sounds, and shot four steady streams of color
less fluid outward, gushing straight forward onto the carpet in front of her and onto his legs. Her tight pussy throbbed.

  “Uuungh,” he yelled like his tongue was tied up, catching a back-end view of her squirting eruption just as he shot four streams of cum deep inside of his glove, deep inside of her connoisseur vagina. His eyes leaped and his mouth flew open while she still swam in the downshift of her mighty orgasm. It smelled of sweet clover.

  Nameless, he gave one more grunt and went rigid. “Damn, woman. What the hell?”

  She spoke through her moans. “That’s just me, baby. That’s how I do it. You didn’t know?” She blew a large bubble that popped and then scooped it back in her mouth with her wide tongue. The light green wad was being converged upon just as his dick had been.

  His eyes were still large. “That shit is crazy.”

  “You struck gold,” she told the stranger. Her thick, soup-cooler lips smacked together.

  She then kissed him like he meant something, scooped up her clothes, and stepped out of the private room.

  With a still-hard dick, he just sat back in wonder of the sex-shooter extraordinaire, Big Booty Trudy, who was truly the shape of freaky things to cum.

  11

  “Ex-Girlfriend”

  Monday, March 31, 2008

  11:39 a.m.

  The next morning after a long night of making sure the Erotic City patrons were on their best behavior, Lavender had already been up and out of his own house and to the gym. He was headed to Milan’s house.

  Milan lay in bed. As usual she’d slept in her light brown birthday suit. She was half awake, thinking about how she needed to wash her hair and stop by the cleaners and buy some groceries for when Taj spent the night on Wednesday and pay the car insurance and talk to her attorney again about her greedy stepmother Nancy and the case involving loony Ramada. Milan’s brain was in overdrive.

  She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, looking at the tray ceiling. She began her daily PC muscle exercises, or Kegels, and tried to stop her mind from racing. Her home phone rang. The cordless was on the dresser and not on the charger on the nightstand. She jumped up and took long steps, reaching over to grab it before the third ring, noticing that the call was blocked. “Hello.”

  “Let me talk to Lavender.” The all-too-familiar voice was stern and rushed.

  Milan’s eyebrows dipped. “You know what, Ramada? You need to learn to say hello when you call.”

  “I’ll call back. Let it go to voice mail.”

  “You can just go ahead and call him on his cell, that’s what you can do. Don’t you ever call here again after you had the nerve to—”

  Click.

  Pissed off, upset, and disgusted, Milan’s middle finger wanted to press redial and her mouth wanted to take over from there, using the words bitch, ho, freak, psycho, and fucking piece of stank ass shit. But Milan’s better judgment took over. Her man’s baby’s mama, who had just filed bogus charges, already knew not to call. Especially Milan’s home. And so, Milan put the cordless on the cradle where it belonged and headed to the bathroom. She snatched on the light and closed the door. The phone rang again, four times, and then stopped. It was all she could do not to tackle the phone and beat Ramada to a pulp with her words.

  Minutes later she crawled back into bed and brought the purple covers to her chin. But she couldn’t help but grab the cordless, dial her own number, and enter her password. She held the phone with a firm grip.

  “Lavender, this is your one and only son’s mom giving you a heads-up to let you know that I have filed a petition to increase the child support amount since you’re rollin hard enough to co-own a club and didn’t tell me. Hell, you said you lost all of your boxing money in bad investments. Liar. Anyway, don’t say I didn’t tell you.” Click.

  Milan pressed the end button and pushed the phone back onto the charger just as Lavender walked into the room looking sweaty and tired.

  “Hey,” he said. He spoke while tossing his gym bag and walking straight to the dresser, rummaging through the one bottom drawer that contained his underwear, pajama bottoms, and some white tees. He grabbed a shirt and threw it onto the bed and approached Milan as she lay back with her head propped up upon two boudoir pillows against the headboard. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Good morning.”

  She gave a quick frown. “Morning. Lavender, you need to tell Ramada to stop calling my house again. It makes no sense to me that she would call repeatedly other than to piss me off. I know you didn’t give her the number, but she got it anyway. Maybe from when Taj called from here but the bottom line is she uses it. And for her to have the nerve to call after what happened the other night is just insane. I’m gonna have to change my number now.”

  Lavender gave a concerned frown. “What happened?”

  Milan tucked the sheet under her arms and then used her hands to accentuate her frustrations. “She just called and I told her to call you on your cell. But she had the nerve to tell me to hang up so she could leave a message. I’m telling you, Lavender. I’m about fed up with her. You need to check her.” Milan grabbed the phone, dialed voice mail, entered the code, and held it out toward him. “Listen to this damn message she left. Press one.”

  Lavender took the cordless, pressed one, and sat on the edge of the bed, bending down to take off his gym shoes. He sat still and listened, and then disconnected the phone, placing it on the bed. He took his cell from the leather holder along his waist and dialed Ramada’s number. He pressed the speaker icon, inhaling loudly, exhaling even louder, talking right over Ramada’s live greeting.

  “Ramada, why are you calling Milan’s house?”

  “Because you damn near live there. I always know where I can find you.”

  “You can find me on my cell. You’re calling here to fuck with Milan. I’m telling you for the third time, do not call this number again.”

  “Or else what?”

  Milan sat back and stared at the back of Lavender’s head.

  “Ramada, we shouldn’t even be talking on the phone after the other night.”

  “Did she give you the message I left?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Lavender leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. “Let me talk to Taj.”

  “No.”

  He got louder. “Ramada, put him on the phone.”

  “No. He’s sleeping.”

  “Wake him up.”

  “I’m not waking him up. He barely slept last night after having trouble breathing. And I, for one, am relieved to see that he’s getting some sleep.”

  “Oh, so he’s snoring again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Funny. He doesn’t snore when he’s with me.”

  “You just don’t notice it. You’re probably too busy banging your swinging woman.”

  Milan buttoned her lip and tossed away the sheets. She arose from the bed, entered the bathroom.

  “Like I said, he doesn’t snore when he’s with me.”

  “How can you even hear him? You snore, too.”

  “Maybe that’s why it bothers you so much.” He cut his eyes toward the bathroom door and noticed that Milan still had a glimpse of him.

  “Oh please. So, you’re saying his snoring reminds me of you? You’re so egotistical.”

  “You couldn’t stand it when I snored. You complained all the time.”

  “This has nothing to do with that.”

  “Maybe you can’t get your sleep, so you’re making a big deal out of it.”

  “Why does everything revolve around you? Your son could have serious problems when he gets older if he doesn’t have this surgery.”

  “I’ve checked with doctors who say he’ll outgrow it.”

  “He won’t. He’ll end up sleeping with a C-Pak machine. Do you want your son to grow up like that?”

  “Ramada, make sure you have Taj call when he wakes up. And I’ll get him Wednesday after school.” He stood up and grabbed the cordless.
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br />   “Did you get my message?” Her annoyance was thick.

  “I said yes.”

  “But you didn’t tell me what you thought.”

  “What about it?” Lavender stood next to Milan’s nightstand and set the home phone down.

  “You must have an audience. You’re acting so foul.”

  Milan exited the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth and walked out of the room and down the hall.

  “Good-bye.” He disconnected his cell and took the same path out of the bedroom and down the hall as Milan, who was still naked, standing in the kitchen upon the blond Pergo floor.

  Milan opened the stainless steel refrigerator and stared inside. Her eyes switched between the orange juice and the bottled water. “You know none of this has anything to do with a last name, or seeing my house, or little Taj’s adenoids, for that matter. That woman is still in love with you.” She grabbed a carton of juice and shut the fridge.

  “She’s not in love. She’s just a damn pain in the ass.” Lavender leaned back against the counter as his cell rang. Ramada’s name appeared. He pressed ignore.

  Milan opened the cupboard and took a glass from the shelf. She set it down and poured half. “Yes, she is that. A royal pain in the ass for both of us.”

  “And I’m sorry about that.”

  “You two need to talk about what’s really going on.” She downed half of the juice in one long gulp.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why is Ramada having such a hard time moving on? It’s really so obvious.” She drank the rest and placed the glass in the sink.

  “She’s just a drama queen.”

  Milan crossed her arms under her breasts. “Ten years with a drama queen, huh? Well, it would be really nice if I didn’t have your drama queen’s mess in my life. You’re in my life. What you go through, I go through. And I know that without your baby’s mama, there’d be no Taj. But I’d like you to protect me from all this crazy drama. If I had a baby’s daddy, I’d shield you.”

  “I plan to. But as far as the surgery and child support amount, I’m standing up for both and I hope you do, too.”