by Cairo
I have no idea who this nigga is. I stare at the screen, trying to figure out who it might be. The email address, [email protected], doesn’t ring a bell. I go into my folders. Search through the emails I’ve saved of niggas who sent pics of their dicks, torsos, or full bodies. There’s no one with that email saved in the folder so I delete.
My cell rings. The special ring tone lets me know it’s Jasper calling. I sigh. Not sure if it’s out of relief or regret. I mean, a part of me is relieved that he is saving me from myself. Then there’s that part of me that wants to ignore the call. That feels like he is disrupting my secret moment. Damn him! I glance at the time on the laptop, getting up to retrieve my phone from off the bed. I can’t believe it’s almost nine o’clock. “Hey,” I say, walking back over to the laptop and sitting down.
“Yo, what’s good wit’ ya sexy-ass?”
I smile. “You,” I say, deleting the remaining twenty-eight emails.
“It better be.” I suck my teeth, sighing. He laughs. “What you up to?”
“Nothing.” I fake a yawn. “Resting; that’s about it. Did you work today?” For the last few weeks, he’s been on the books down at his boys detail shop, doing everything except detailing. These niggas always got some kind of scheme going on. I told Jasper when his ass gets got that I’m not trying to hear shit about it. He told me to stop wishing bad luck on him; that he’s got this. So, I’m leaving it alone.
“Yo, don’t start ya shit, Pasha.”
“How am I starting shit?” I ask, coyly. “I only asked you a question.”
“Yeah, aiiight. Play stupid, yo.”
I don’t know why I feel like fucking with him when I hate it when he does the shit to me. Oh, well. “How is asking you if you went to work playing stupid? Help me understand that. All I want to know is how my man’s day was.”
He sucks his teeth. “Whatever, yo. Yeah, I worked, smart-ass.”
“And did you have a good day?”
“Yo what the fuck, man?” he huffs, sounding agitated. “Yeah, I had a good day. Damn.”
“That’s good,” I say sarcastically, opening a new email. Still nothing worthy of a response. I delete it, then get up from the computer and lay across the bed.
No response.
“Why are you getting all quiet on me?”
“Yo, you always gotta try ’n be on some extra shit.”
“How you figure?”
“Nothing,” he snaps. Felecia is calling in. I tell him to hold on, then click over.
“Hey, girl, I gotta call you back. I’m on the phone with Jasper.”
“Oh, aiight. Tell him I said hey. You still up for drinks?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, deciding going out is probably the best thing for me to keep me from going out on the prowl tonight. “Let’s meet in an hour.” We hang up. I click back over. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Yo, who the fuck you clickin’ over for?” I tell him it was Felecia. Tell him she wants to go out for drinks. “On a Wednesday night? Where at?” I tell him where. He grunts. In my mind’s eye, I can see his jaws tightening. “What, ya’ll goin’ to meet up wit’ some niggas?”
I suck my teeth. “What kinda shit is that? Nigga, please. Meeting up with a nigga is the last thing on my mind.” Oh, okay, I’m lying. Well, partially. Shit, I’m not interested in meeting up with a nigga at a damn bar. Meeting his ass in a dark alley, an empty parking garage, or even a park, perhaps, might work. But not in a public social setting. “Besides,” I continue, “I got a man, and so does Felecia.”
“And? What’s that got ta do wit’ shit?”
“I guess nothing. If you don’t know, then neither do I.”
“Yeah, okay. Keep it up, aiight. You gonna have me go in ya mouth, word up.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right. The only thing you gonna have go in my mouth is that black dick, and that thick creamy nut, nigga.”
“Aye, yo,” he says, lowering his voice. I knew saying that shit would calm him down, for the moment at least. Anything that has to do with me fucking or sucking him does the trick all—well, most—of the time. “Go ’head wit’ that ’fore you have me sneakin’ outta this muhfucka to beat that back up.” I open my mouth to say something, but he tells me he has to go, then abruptly hangs up. I yawn, feeling my eyes getting heavy. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. 9:47 P.M. I’m gonna close my eyes for a quick minute, take me a disco nap, then hop in the shower and be ready to meet up with Felecia, I think, sinking into the plushness of my bed. All I need is a few, quick zees.
I hear the doorbell, but think I am dreaming. It isn’t until I hear heavy banging and my cell phone ringing at the same time that I realize it’s real; that I am not stuck in LaLa Land. I jolt up in bed, glancing at the clock. 11:18 P.M. I reach for my cell. Look at the screen and answer, getting off the bed to see who is banging on my door like they’ve lost their fucking mind. I can’t believe I fell asleep on top of the covers, with my clothes still on, like that. “Hurry up and come open the door,” Jasper says the minute I pick up.
“Open the door? That’s you downstairs banging like that?”
“Yeah, who else you think it’s gonna be?”
I frown. “Nigga, how the hell I know? Why you think I didn’t get up to answer it?”
“Yeah, aiight. Well, hurry up and get down here.” Just like that, he hangs up. What the hell is he doing here when I told him I was going out with Felecia? Shit, I forgot to call her. I check my cell. Notice she sent me a text. I reply back to her as I make my way to the door. I unlock and open it.
“What in the world are you doing here this time of night?” I ask, swinging the door open. I step back as he hurriedly walks in. “Who’s that outside?”
The minute I shut the door, he starts removing all of his clothes. “Yo, I only got thirty minutes, so we don’t have time for a buncha chit-chat.” He tells me he slid one of the night counselors a hundred-dollars to let him slip out. He tells me he has to be back in by twelve-thirty. That the nigga outside is one of his man’s.
“Are you crazy? Nigga, you trying to get your ass locked back up.” It’s a comment, more of a statement, than a question.
“No, I’m tryna get some pussy and you wasting time wit’ a buncha questions. Take them fuckin’ clothes off,” he says, pressing me up against the door. “You already know what it is.”
“Nigga, you’re crazy.”
“Yeah, for ya sexy-ass. Now take these muhfuckas off ’fore I tear ’em off of you.” He starts pulling at my shirt, and tugging at my jeans. He unbuttons them, then gets down on his knees and yanks my pants down around my ankles. I step out of them, kicking them out of the way. He pulls my panties over to the side and begins licking and kissing on my pussy. I let out a soft moan, grabbing his head. I throw one leg up over his shoulder, giving him full access to my slippery slit.
Within moments of his tongue-assault on my clit and slit, I pump my hips and fuck his face, mouth, and tongue until I feel my first wave of orgasms washing over me. Jasper quickly stands up with his lips glazed with cum and begins kissing me. I reach down and start grabbing at his hard dick, sucking my juices from his lips and tongue. He quickly lifts me up by the hips, then reaches up under me and slaps his dick up against the back of my pussy before pushing the head in. Neither of us says a word as his cock and my cunt make music. Smacking and sloshing in between low, deep moans and guttural grunts and groans are the only sounds heard. I have my fingers interlocked behind his neck, leaning back, bouncing up and down on his dick as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I can read his thoughts through his eyes, and he is reading mine through mine. We are both in love; both horny; both in desperate need of release. I blink a few times, hoping he doesn’t look too deep into my eyes and uncover my deceit.
“Aaaah, shiiiiit…aaaaah, fuuuck, baby…you got my dick so…aaaaah, wet …”
“Oooh, yes…you make my pussy scream, Daddy…Oh, your dick is so good …”
“Yeah, wet that d
ick up, baby…let me get all up in that good pussy…goddamn, fuck!”
Ten strokes later we are both nutting; him deep inside of my smoldering hole. And me all over his pulsing cock. My juices, along with his, shimmy down the sides of his dick, then drip to his balls. “Damn, that shit was good,” he says, lightly kissing me on the lips. I continue pumping my hips on his dick until it goes limp and slips out of me. He puts me down. “I gotta bounce, baby.”
“I know,” I say, watching him put back on his clothes. He snatches up my panties and stuffs them in his front pocket. “I’ma need these for later tonight.”
I laugh. “You so fucking nasty,” I state, glad he’s not taking a pair of my expensive underwear this time.
He kisses me on the lips, grabbing my ass. “I wish I could bust another ’round up in you. I’ma hit you up in the morning.”
I smile. “Okay. Get back safe.”
“No doubt,” he says, kissing me. I part my lips and his tongue slips in, swirling around mine. “Damn, I gotta get the fuck on,” he states, pulling back. “I love the hell outta you, girl.”
“I know you do. I love you, too.”
I step behind the door as he opens it, then I shut and lock it behind him. I peek out of the window and watch him as he hops back in the car. It’s not until the lights flash on, the car backs out, and they head down the road that it dawns on me that this nigga can come through on some drive-by shit anytime he feels like it.
I climb the stairs to my bedroom, go into the bathroom, turn on the faucet and then wet a washcloth with soap and warm water. I wash the cum off that’s gliding down my legs, brush my teeth, then head back to bed. Exhausted and exhilarated. Damn, I really needed a dose of that good dick. I smile, pulling the sheets up over my sticky body and closing my eyes.
THIRTEEN
It’s been extra crazy here today. The salon has been packed since ten o’clock this morning with every stylist, nail technician, esthetician, pedicurist, and masseuse hopping around here trying to keep things moving, and keep customers from sitting up on top of each other. Though I’m not complaining, it’s been a damn zoo!
Today is the third day we’ve been running our “Nappy on the Go” special—a mani/pedi, full-body massage, facial, and hair—for two-hundred-and-fifty dollars. Something we like to do from time to time for clients who might like to do a little extra-pampering, but have limited funds due to the economy, plus it’s good for business.
Interestingly, most of the chicks coming in this afternoon for pedis are requesting the Bavarian Chocolate and the Chocolate Chip Cookie pedis we’re now offering. The Bavarian pedi starts off with a warm cocoa bath, followed by a cocoa and brown sugar scrub, followed by a chocolate syrup mask. The Chocolate Chip Cookie pedi starts with a vanilla soak, followed by a sugar and honey scrub with a chocolate mask and vanilla lotion rub. Chile, it’ll have your man wanting to lick the balls of your feet, and suck your damn toes off.
And all manis this week include a warm oiled stone massage and paraffin wax to deep moisturize those overworked hands, keeping them baby soft.
A few clients have also come in requesting our exclusive back facials to get those backs and shoulders ready for those strapless evenings. Mmmmph, there’s nothing worse than seeing a woman with her back out and it’s covered with pimples, blackheads, and blemishes. That’s a no-no. Definitely not a good look, boo! So, for a limited time, you can get all of these wonderful services that would normally cost close to a grand or more for a damn steal. Even the requests for Brazilian, chin, and lip waxes are crazy today, since we’re offering a two for one package. You can get your pubes and underarms, or chin and lip, or chest and legs, or any other combination, for the price of one.
Annnnyway, so here I am—on my feet, finishing up my girl Greta’s doobie when I see Big Booty sauntering through the salon’s door, like she’s ghetto-fabulous. There’s so much chitter-chatter and laughter going on that I can barely hear myself think. Let alone try to keep up with all the conversations going on around the room. Greta is finishing up telling me about her latest date. A retired army captain she met at a meet-and-greet social mixer in Newark last month who happens to be fifteen years older than her. “He’s a little older than what I’m used to, but—”
“Change is good,” I state, cutting in. “Besides, fifty isn’t that old.”
“Mmmph, it’s old enough. I mean, I’m thirty-five.”
“Okay, and?”
She shakes her head. “It’s gonna take me some time to handle that whole ’age is just a number’ thing.”
“Well, do you like him?”
“It’s too early to tell. We’ve been out on three dates so far, and each time he’s been very respectful.”
“Well, that’s a start,” I offer, knowing that the only reason she’s been on three dates with him is because they haven’t fucked, yet. Greta believes in fucking her dates on the first night to see if she wants to invest any more of her time with them.
“The start of what?” she asks, handing me the mirror. “This looks good.” She swings her hair from side to side, admiring how silky it is.
“The start of something new,” I state, unsnapping the cape from around her neck. “I mean…hell, the fact that you’ve been out on three dates with him says a lot since we both know that most men don’t make it past the second date with you.”
She laughs, getting up. “Girl, you know that’s right. That’s because once I’ve tasted the goods, I don’t normally want a second helping of what they’re offering. And the only reason I haven’t sampled the Captain yet is because he’s being so damn gentlemanly. But the minute he makes a move on me, I’m gonna eat him alive. I hope he keeps a hard dick. I’d hate to have to toss him out of my bed.”
I laugh. “Girl, get the hell out of here. You better worry about not killing him in the process.”
She taps the tip of her index finger on her chin. “Mmm, maybe I should marry him first.”
I continue laughing. “Girl, you’re too much.”
She shrugs, handing me a twenty-dollar tip. “I’m keeping it real.”
“I know you are. That’s what so damn funny.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” she says, walking off. “See you in two weeks.”
I shake my head, watching her walk off toward Felecia to pay her bill. I see Janelle is finished getting her pedicure right on time and wave her over.
“Girl, ya’ll are doin’ the damn thang up in here,” she says, sitting down in the chair. I got the Chocolate Mint-pie pedi and it was heavenly. Where in the world did you come up with the idea to give names of desserts for different types of pedicures?”
The Chocolate Mint-pie pedi starts off with your feet being pre-soaked in a coconut milk and mint mixture; then we add chocolate coffee to the mixture, letting your feet soak for ten minutes, then comes the chocolate scrub and feet massage. Once the scrub and massage are over, then comes a warm chocolate paraffin wrap brushed onto the feet. Finally, we apply the chocolate mint therapy lotion.
An hour later, your feet are relaxed, soft as silk, and you walk out feeling like you’re in seventh heaven. What most people don’t know is that not only does the chocolate aroma calm the senses; the chocolate contains ingredients that can hydrate and moisturize the skin. I learned this from checking the going-ons in white-owned salons. Most black-owned salons aren’t up on this, and they damn sure aren’t offering it.
“Girl, you know I like to stay on top of shit, keep customers talking and wanting to come back. You gotta know when to step outside the box.”
I tell her about the eyelash and eyebrow clinic that Nappy No More is about to undertake, where we’ll be offering eyelash extensions and eyebrow-shaping and powders. We’ll also be providing eyelash dyeing for women who don’t want to keep using mascara, and eyelash perming for those who have straight lashes. It’ll be a forty-five minute procedure and the results will last for about six weeks or so. “I’m telling you, we are catering to the woman on the go
who wants one-stop, customized salon care for her hair, face, body and feet.”
“I know that’s right,” she says as I snap the cape around her neck. “I’m impressed. Umm, speaking of stepping outside of the box, I want a whole new look; something real drastic, yet sassy for the spring.”
“What do you have in mind?” She tells me to do whatever I want. I smile, and decide to give her a retro bob cut. I see Big Booty still at the counter talking to Felecia, either catching up on—or dishing out—the latest gossip, then she speaks to a few clients sitting in the waiting area before she makes her way over to my workstation. Over all the chemicals floating through the air in here, I can practically smell her signature perfume—Juicy by Juicy Couture before she approaches me. This is the first time anyone has seen her since she got sliced in the face. She lifts her up her designer shades, tossing her shoulder-length weave to the side. “Miss Pasha, girl, can you fit me in today? I see you kinda busy up in here. How many heads you got?”
Shit, I can’t ever remember her damn real name. “Hey, girl,” I say, mindful not to call her by her street name. “I have two or three, but I’m sure I can fit you in.”
“Perfect” she says, running her hand along the nape of her neck. “I need to get this kitchen handled. These peas are poppin’ for real.”
I laugh, eyeing her white Louis bag and admiring her wears. “You better go, girl,” I say, waving a finger in the air. “You look good. And that bag is hot.”
Shuwanda comments on the bag as well. “Yeah, girl, that’s shit’s fiyah for sure!”
“Thanks,” she says, letting her bag rest in the crook of her arm. “It was a treat to me after that ho cut me.” Her weave piece covers the right side of her face. She pulls it back to show us her scar. “Yeah, the bitch got me good. But she got even better.”
“Did she get charged?” Shuwanda wants to know.
“That bitch sure did, and she got stomped, too. Shit, we all got charged. That ho was snappin’ over some damn dick, comin’ up to my door tryna bring da noise.” She rolls her eyes, sucking her teeth. “Bitch, puhleeze. And the nigga was still tryna come through for some’a this goodie-goodie, okay.”