Two-Time Essence Magazine Best-Selling Author
Copyright © Winston Chapman
FIRST EBOOK EDITION
AYANNA ENTERTAINMENT GROUP LLC
Atlanta, Georgia
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Winston Chapman Novel
Copyright © Winston Chapman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.
Praise for “CAUGHT UP!” (#2 Essence Magazine Best Seller)
“Outstanding Debut …
The book does get you ‘caught up’ in the plight of the main character from the beginning. If readers are looking for high drama mixed with a glimpse of street life, they can't go wrong by checking this book out.”
Review by Zane
NY Times Bestselling Author
Praise for “WILD THANGZ” (#6 Essence Magazine Best Seller)
“Wild Thangz by Winston Chapman is a page-turner from beginning to end! … Wild Thangz has it all: Drama, Suspense, Friendship, and Betrayal. The ending will leave you speechless … This book is HOT!! … one of the best urban dramas that I have read … 5 stars!!”
- PeopleWhoLoveGoodBooks.Com
Table of Contents
Flip The Script CHAPTER FOUR 47
Playing The Game CHAPTER FIVE 64
My Turn, My Time CHAPTER SIX 83
Too Hot To Hold CHAPTER SEVEN 114
Back In The Saddle CHAPTER TEN 184
Discovering Love CHAPTER TWELVE 209
The Life CHAPTER ONE
I couldn’t believe I had gotten myself into this situation. Was old enough to know better. My mom always said ‘The choices you make will determine the quality of your life’. I was looking straight in the face at the possibility of losing mine. Or at best the loss of any life that would even remotely be described as quality.
It’s the middle of the night here I am scantily clad, sitting on a street curb wrapped in a borrowed jacket with the letters ‘APD’ stenciled on the back, answering a detectives questions. While trying to shield the blinding glare of the squad car’s flashing lights.
This dreadful nightmare all began just two years ago. I’d stormed out of my mama’s house in Des Moines, Iowa -- vowing I’d never come back. Took with me the $746.29 I’d earned over the past summer working at the same diner that my mom had schlepped greasy food for the past 19 years. Determined I’d not be sentenced to that same life, I headed straight to the Greyhound bus station and bought a one-way ticket to Atlanta.
Made my choice of city on-the-fly, looking at a US Map, while standing in line at the ticket counter. Chose Atlanta because it was one of the places I was sure I’d connect with my roots. People who look like me. Understand me. Relate to me.
Thought about Chicago -- too dirty. Thought about New York -- too big. Washington D.C. was too hard to figure out, where it actually was on the map. Besides, Atlanta was a warm weather city. And, it didn’t hurt that it was so close to Florida.
As a black girl growing up in Des Moines, I never felt I belonged. Felt like a permanent guest everywhere I’d go. Being adopted didn’t help. And being adopted by a white woman helped even less. Not to mention, I was obviously a product of an interracial relationship.
Though, everyone in town seemed to try to help me belong. It was just that, their need to make me feel at home, made me feel that much more like an outsider -- the Special Negro.
My soul and spirit, not to mention my smile had grown weary of pretending that I didn’t feel different from everyone else. So, that was it. I decided I had to get out of there.
After graduation, I worked all summer at the diner. Listened to my customers, my neighbors tell crude racial jokes over the cup of joe I’d just served them. If ever I happened to wander by or be wiping off a nearby table just as they reached the racial joke punch line, they’d simply turn to me and say, ‘Oh, no offense, Raven?!’
Like that made it alright? Like it was okay to insult my heritage, as long as you didn’t mean it towards me?
There were only two other black girls at my high school. Shamika and Mercedes. Yet, they didn’t nearly receive the Special Negro treatment that the white folks in town gave to me. Best I could figure was three reasons.
First, Shamika and Mercedes had not grown up here. They’d moved here, when their parents decided to escape the mean streets of Chicago, to pursue a more tranquil life in a smaller town. That, to the rednecks ‘round here, nearly makes them foreigners.
Secondly, they were not light skinned like me. Actually, I’m not that light. It’s not like you can see my veins or anything. And, I don’t turn red when I blush. But, compared to the other two black girls, you’d think I was Halle Berry because they were dark skinned. A very pretty, smooth dark color, almost like coal.
Thirdly, their parents were black. Never understood how I somehow gained points in the eyes of the community by having a white mother. Somehow, I must be tamer. Less threatening. My light complexion and my so called “frizzy” black hair made me almost an “honorary white girl”. That is, just as long as I didn’t rock the boat.
It’s so funny how the folks in my town conveniently make use of their blinders. I felt I looked more like the black girls than any white girl. I had a big butt like theirs. My hair is nappy, not frizzy, like theirs. My skin got ashy like theirs did. And, I felt alone, like they did.
But, if you ask anybody in our town if there’s stereotyping in our town? -- They’ll tell you, “Hell no! We all get along ‘round here!”
Even the white boys I briefly dated were more interested in the taboo of the black side of me. I saw how they peered at my round, high-riding backside. Yet, at the same time, they hid behind the safety of the fact that I had a white side, too. With me, they could have their cake and eat it too. Lust after black beauty without it being evident.
Most guys decided to pursue me because they viewed me as some hidden Amazonian treasure. Every single guy I dated attempted to sleep with me on our first date. Absent was the romance I’d overhear my white girl classmates speak of.
No matter how honorable I thought the boy was at the beginning of the date, they all ended the same way. Grabby hands trying to expose my breasts to eager eyes.
It wasn’t so much the grabby hands that I minded, as it was the reason for the grabby hands. It was never even an innocent true physical attraction. The kind where you actually like the person, but the extreme physical attraction makes you try to speed things up.
No, it was never anything close to that. Which would have been okay, I guess. These guys’ assertions and advances had nothing to do with me, Raven, the person. Had more to do with the black-girl-Raven.
Quite easily, I could read the curiosity written in the pupils of their eyes, as they’d attempted to raise my shirt or sweater: I wonder what this black girl's titties look like? Are the nipples different?
Some even skipped the first step of trying to cop-a-feel on my tits, before viewing them. It was like they didn’t care to feel them as much as they were curious to see them.
I believed that they figured my natural jungle sexual instincts would somehow be revealed in privacy. They were very wrong and usually ended up going home with a sore pair of balls.
I have to admit, sitting in the plastic molded seat of the Greyhound bus station I was a bit nervous about leaving the only place I’d known. Began wondering if I was making a mistake? At the same time, I knew if I didn’t go now, I’d end up like everyone else in Des Moines. Satisfied with only talking about the big plans they had when they were young and annually modifying their excuses for never actually doing it.
Working in a diner, you hear these excuses and stories just as many times a day as you refill coffee.
The faces are different, but the excuses are the same. ‘I was going to become an airline pilot, but my girlfriend got pregnant and I had to support the family’ or ‘I was going to go to/finish college, but I had to pay the mortgage’.
Then this type of comment was usually followed by some type of halfhearted commitment to ‘one day’ complete the dream. ‘Yeah, after the kids graduate, I’m gonna _______’ (you fill in the blank). Actually, neither the speaker nor the listener really believes a word. Yet, both shy away from disputing the validity. Instead, it just becomes a good game of reciprocating coffee conversation – ‘You listen to my lie and I’ll listen to yours’. Just one of the ways people in Des Moines make it through another unfulfilling day.
Though I was excited about getting out of Des Moines, I was not looking forward to the 48-hour bus ride to Atlanta. It seemed as though my bus made stops in every small town, sometimes going west rather than east. But what could I expect for only $39?
As the bus pulled into Kansas City, Missouri for an hour-long layover, I began recognizing just how sheltered I’d been. Didn’t even know there were two different Kansas City’s, one in Missouri and the other in Kansas.
Got the feeling I was getting closer to my goal of being around more black people. The K.C. bus station was almost entirely filled with black folks. More than I’d ever seen at one time.
After a brief freshening in the just barely sanitary bathroom, I found the Door #4, where my new bus would be boarding. I sat down next to a very pretty black girl, who looked a little older than me, about 21 or 22.
“Are you going to Atlanta too?” I said attempting to strike up a conversation.
Her nose was nestled in a romance novel. After a slight delay, apparently so that she could finish the sentence she was reading, she responded.
“Oh, um, yeah. But, I’m not taking the bus. A friend of mine is just meeting me here. We’re gonna drive down.”
She was the color of burnt caramel with very striking features that perfectly matched her concise manner. Long, expertly flat-ironed hair that fanned out easily whenever she looked a different direction and had a slender build, except she had logic defying curves for someone of her size. The very tight, sleeveless, designer T-shirt she wore followed the contour of her torso like it had a road map, stopping just above her naval. The words on the front of her shirt stretched across her chest like a billboard. Though the words actually said Tommy Girl, when I first saw them, to me they read, “Look Here!” She had an almost elegant, hip hop Jennifer Lopez style.
“Watchya going to Atlanta for?” I bluntly asked.
“I’m a model, actress and a singer, on my way to be in a music video,” proudly she responded, though she attempted to be ho-hum about it.
Craftily, she did not mention whose video, so that I’d be enticed to ask more about her.
“Really! Who’s video?” I took the bait.
“M.C. Krush,” she said, again matter of factly.
“COOL! Cool, cool, that’s cool,” repeatedly I chanted with declining exuberance while nodding my head. Was beginning to recognize that I was sounding like someone who ain’t never been nowhere.
It was too late to undo it, but I’d try anyway.
Sensing my interest had plateau’d, she kept the subject going.
“Yeah, it’s cool sometimes. But, we work long hours, too...... I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. I’m Nia Moore,” she said, resting the book in her lap while extending her newly manicured hand to me, in just the manner a star would while connecting with one of their fans.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Raven. Raven Klein.” I said without paying too much attention to the painted designs on her fingertips.
“Are you in the entertainment industry?” Nia asked.
I blushingly laughed. “Who me? No!” I said, shaking my head.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I don’t know? I just don’t think anyone would mistake me for someone on their way to becoming famous.”
“That’s not true. I thought maybe you were a singer or a model.”
Okay, now Nia was just being polite. I never thought of myself as bad looking, but a model? Come on now. It’s not like, I wasn’t in good shape. I had a slim waist, perky breast and a shapely bottom.
But Nia, oh my goodness, I was nothing like her. Her arms were toned, definition in the shoulders, forearms and biceps areas. Plus, she had that thin shapely look going for her, like Tyra Banks, with just enough meat in all the right places. No excess anywhere.
I’ve noticed models, at least black models, seemed to have contradictory physical features. You know, narrow hips, yet a protruding curvy backside that stops where the thigh begins. No Bu-thigh issues, where the butt is not distinct from the thighs. And they all have flat stomachs, narrow lower torsos leading up to a ballooning bust, accented by strong looking but not over bearing arms.
“So what you going to Atlanta for?” Nia questioned.
“Just a change of scenery,” I said vaguely, uncomfortable with the shoe on the other foot and me being the subject.
In Iowa, people read signals. Not true for city girls, I was finding out firsthand.
“Change of scenery?” Nia said, dramatically leaning backward, simultaneously contorting her face like she either resented my vagueness or didn’t understand or both.
“Change of scenery? Whatzz that mean? Are you visiting, moving or what?” boldly she continued.
Feeling intimidated and not wanting to be on her bad side, even for the short time I had left to wait for my bus departure, I decided to come clean.
“Yeah, I’m moving there. Just didn’t wanna live in Iowa, anymore.”
With a huge grin, clapping her hands together and alternating stomping her feet, she said, “IOWA!! Girl, I didn’t know any black people lived in Iowa!”
Passively and semi humorously I tried to make light of the moment, “Yeah. Well, there aren’t anymore black people in Iowa. I was the last one.”
I didn’t like my town either. Obviously, that’s why I was moving. Yet and still, I felt like a stranger shouldn’t be allowed to make fun of Des Moines.
When her laughter had subsided, I could see that Nia really meant no harm. She wasn’t cold hearted. And could tell, she could read my face.
“Girl, I’m just fuckin’ with you!” she said, while giving me a side to side rocking, sisterly hug with one arm. “So, where in Atlanta are you going to be living?” seamlessly she transitioned the awkward moment away.
“Actually, I don’t know yet?”
That hug, made me feel more comfortable sharing information.
“YOU don’t know yet?” she said, tempering her tone down by the end of her sentence. Didn’t want me to close up, I guess.
“No.”
“Well, Raven, do you have family living there?”
“No.”
“Do you already have a job in Atlanta?”
“Um, no.”
The concern on her face made me even more nervous. Nia paused her questioning for a moment. Then she took a deep breath, chewed on her upper lip while her eyes rose inside her eyelids in thought, like she was trying to figure out a geometrical problem. Her eyes quickly scanned me over then rose inside her eyelids again, like she was double checking the answer. Then she resumed speaking in a very calm, please believe me voice.
“Okay, listen...,” she whispered, placing her hand on my knee, “..... my agent, the guy who’s picking me up, keeps a two bedroom apartment rented for me in Atlanta. You seem like a nice girl. I probably should not be doing this, but, I think you’re gonna get eaten up if I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that you can stay with me until you get on your feet.”
Surprised by the offer, tempted to take her up on it, I decided to decline.
“Thank you so much Nia, for your offer. But, I think I’m gonna be okay. I’ve got my own money,” confidently I spoke.
Biting her lip again, Nia glanced at the very expensive watch on her wrist. It seemed as though she was starting to lose patience.
“Raven, the A-T-L is a big city that you know nothing about. How much money do you think it’s gonna cost to get an apartment?”
“I dunno, maybe, four or five hundred?”
Nia just lowered her head and shook it side to side.
“Try more like $800 a month. Plus, $800 security deposit. Plus, money to turn on the electric and gas. Plus, groceries for you to eat. Not to mention, dishes & pans to cook with. And, we ain’t even talked about no furniture, so you can have a place to sit or sleep. That’s over 2-G’s right there! OH! And how you gonna find an apartment with no car! OH! Better yet, how you gonna qualify for an apartment with no job or local references........”
Now, I was really worried. Most of the things Nia had mentioned, I’d never even thought about.
Noticing that her volume had increased during the explanation of how serious my situation was, Nia motioned for me to follow her outside.
From her purse, she pulled out a gold cigarette case filled with Newport cigs. Nia offered me one, but I didn’t smoke. She turned away, cupping one hand around the lighter to shield the wind, as she lit up. Immediately, she began pulling hard on the cig, like she was stressed out.
After a few drags, she began speaking to me as she exhaled the smoke away from me.
“Raven, I don’t know what you’re running from in Iowa, but I can tell you’re not a bad person. You just have to understand, you’re gonna see alot of things you never dreamed of in Atlanta,” she said, contagiously nodding at me.
“I know,” I said, nodding back to her, now more worried than ever. Especially after hearing her long list of expenses that I failed to consider.
“All I’m saying is I can help you. Everybody needs some help. You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure my agent could even find you some work in the meantime. So, you might want to think about my offer before my agent gets here, okay? That’s all I’m saying, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you,” I said, having already made up my mind that I must take her offer. But, I wanted to kill a little time, so that Nia would think that I had given it some serious thought.
Just then, a shiny black Cadillac Escalade pulled into the Greyhound parking lot and honked the horn.
Nia stomped out her cigarette, waved to the tinted window, sprayed a burst of breath freshener in her mouth and surveyed the ground around her to make sure she had both of her bags.
“Well Raven, that’s my agent. Whatzit gonna be?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side while holding her muscular arms out to the side.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to take you up on your offer. I promise I’ll stay out of your way and pay my own way ..........,” I unnecessarily rambled.
Nia interrupted my unnecessary rambling with a hug and smile. This time, giving me a two arm embrace.
The car horn sounded again as we made our way over to the mammoth vessel. As we approached, the trunk popped open shortly before the Herculean man exited out of the driver’s side door.
Nia led the way. I followed far enough behind to allow her to have whatever conversation was needed to explain my presence.
The 6’4” - 250 lb. man wrapped his massive arms around her waist, planted a quaint peck on Nia’s lips before bear-hugging her feet completely off the ground. Gingerly, he placed Nia back on the ground, while looking at me.
His embrace was ended with a playful pat on Nia’s backside. To which, Nia responded with a hard punch to his arm that had no effect, as he tapped her bottom once more.
“Rico, this is my friend Raven. Raven, this is Rico,” Nia introduced us.
“Nice to meet ya Raven,” Rico said.
“Nice to meet you Rico,” I nervously responded, while shaking his hand.
Although he appeared to be of a gentle nature, while my hand was easily being swallowed by his, I couldn’t help but think how easy it would be for his hand to crush mine, even by mistake.
“Raven’s moving to the A-T-L. I told her she could stay with me,” Nia informed him.
“Cool! Let’s roll!” Rico said, holding both of Nia’s bags and gesturing for me to give mine to him as well.
While Nia was explaining the situation to him, I’d wondered if Rico would veto our deal. Thankfully, he didn’t.
Rico loaded the bags in the back and it wasn’t long before we were heading south on I-70, on our way to Atlanta.
Rico’s Escalade was fully loaded. Chromed wheels, sunroof, gray leather seats and a pop-out television screen with a DVD player.
On the road to St. Louis, which would be our first stop on this 15-hour journey, I learned that Rico was a former NFL linebacker; played his college ball at Georgia Tech. Even before he explained the knee injury that had ended his career, I’d already assumed something like that, as he looked far too young to be retired.
After his third season in the NFL, at age 25, Rico got injured playing in the Pro Bowl game in Hawaii. Fortunately, he had just signed a guaranteed contract. The deal was for 6 years, the first two years were guaranteed. The total contract would have paid him $9 million, plus a signing bonus of $4 million. Because he got injured before the season, he was entitled to payment for the first two years ($1.5 million each year) and he got to keep the signing bonus. Rico was sitting pretty with $7 million.
I’d wondered earlier when I saw Rico hug and kiss Nia what the attraction was, but now I knew. Rico’s not ugly or anything. Actually, he’s very handsome; thick eyebrows, long eyelashes and a perfect smile.
It was just a size thing, I guess. Nia, though tall at 5’9, most likely did not weigh even half as much as Rico. Even wondered how such a small girl could handle such a big man, if you know what I mean.
Rico owned two nightclubs in Atlanta, hence his involvement in promoting Nia’s career. With his contacts from his NFL days still being fresh, he could open doors Nia knew she’d never make it through.
Didn’t know if Nia was playing him or not? Or if it was the other way around. They might be madly in love. I didn’t know.
I’d never known anyone with a million dollars before. I guess you just get suspicious when you’re around some Donald Trump type environment.
Wondered why they’d meet at a bus station in K.C. versus somewhere else? And, why they weren’t flying instead of driving?
Turns out, Nia had been in K.C. for a modeling shoot. She’d be the Beauty of The Week in the next issue of Jet Magazine. Rico was in St. Louis, attending a former teammate’s weeklong bachelor party and wedding. They decided to meet at the Greyhound station, because Rico had already driven four-and-half hours coming up to K.C. to pick up Nia and the Greyhound station was close to I-70, therefore he wouldn’t have to navigate his way through downtown K.C. to get to her hotel. Besides, Nia had already checked out of her room.
It was around 7:30 PM when we pulled into St. Louis.
“Raven, are you in a hurry to get to Atlanta?” Rico asked.
“No. Not really?”
“I think we gonna stop at a hotel in St. Louis, if that’s alright with you?”
Like I was gonna say no. They were my ride. Not to mention, Nia represented my living quarters in Atlanta.
“Fine with me,” I said, smiling back to him in the rear view mirror.
Rico put on his wireless phone earpiece, called a hotel, making a reservation of two rooms; not rooms, suites is the word I heard him use.
We pulled into the Grand Marquis hotel, a very classy hotel. The staff clearly knew who Rico was. They treated us royally. A valet took the car. Not one, but two bellhops placed our bags on the gold luggage racks and led us through the marble-floored lobby, past the check-in counter directly to a private elevator.
As I watched one of the bellhops pressing the 25th floor button, the top floor in the hotel, I couldn’t help but think about how drastic a change I was experiencing.
Less than six hours ago, I was riding on a nasty bus. Now, I’m about to enter a suite in a very classy hotel.
Exiting the elevator, I now understood the purpose of the two bellhops. One was for me! Seeing as our rooms were in opposite directions.
Before we parted, Rico slapped a fifty dollar bill in my bellhop’s hand and began to clarify things for me.
“Hey, Raven, everything’s on me. If you need something, just call downstairs and they’ll take care of you. Anything at all, order a movie, use the phone long distance, order room service, need a ride somewhere in the hotel limo. Anything at all! I mean it!” he said authoritatively. Attempting to make sure, I’d not be shy about anything.
Nia, standing next to him, just smiled proudly before speaking.
“Why don’t we go downstairs and get something to eat? Raven, I know you’ve gotta be hungry?”
I was. Not to mention tired from the twelve hours I’d spent on the bus prior to meeting Nia.
“That’s cool. Thanks you guys!” I said, as genuinely as I could.
Thanks didn’t nearly seem quite enough.
“Alright, let’s meet downstairs at 8:30?” Rico added.
Nia and I agreed.
In the restaurant, Rico repeated his, its on me comments.
I wanted to order something not that expensive, but it was virtually impossible. There was nothing on the menu that cost less than $22. So, I ordered the twenty two dollar French Dip sandwich.
Midway through the meal, both Rico and Nia broke out their cell phones. Rico making plans to head out with some of his buddies still in town from the wedding. Nia, no doubt, calling some girls she knew in St. Louis.
As we were leaving the restaurant, on our way to the private elevator, Rico was stopped by a well dressed, well built, handsome friend of his. They exchanged man-hugs that seemed like it hurt. Hard pounding on each other’s back.
It was clear that this guy also knew Nia. ‘Cause he smiled at her and turned the switch on his hug-dial from tough to gentle.
Then his eyes made their way towards me.
“Damn. Now who is this?” he commented, while extending his hand.
Nia rolled her eyes like she knew this slickster all too well.
“This is Raven,” Nia said, deliberately separating our hands.
“Well, it is certainly nice to meet you Raven. I’m Brian, friends call me BJ.........”
“That ain’t all they call you,” I heard Nia, silently echo in the background.
“............. Anyway, what y’all getting into? Y’all don’t mind, if I tag along?” BJ invited himself.
“Man, we ain’t gettin’ into nothin’. I was getting ready to go hang out with Ty and K.C. -- you know Todd just got married this weekend.”
“Bullshit!” BJ seemed surprised.
“Naw, I’m for real. If you wanna roll, we can roll?”
“That’s straight!” BJ said, turning his attention to me. Reaching for my hand, he kissed the back of it and said, “I’ll see you later, Raven.”
“Yeah, whatever!” Nia barked back at BJ.
Rico was tickled by BJ’s corny antics. He simply put his big paw on the back of BJ’s neck and guided him away from me, towards the front door before shouting back to Nia that they may be out kinda late.
“Who is that?” I asked Nia.
“Gurrrll, nobody you wanna know. Trust me!” she said.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t see through BJ’s phony facade. I was just curious as to who he was, and about the relationship between him and Rico.
For that matter, I was curious about her relationship with Rico. She kept referring to him as her agent. Yet, there was clear evidence that they had much more than just a business partnership. The kiss they shared. To say nothing about the room they were sharing.
I was definitely in uncharted waters. Nia was in, as she called it, ‘The Entertainment Industry’. Maybe this is the way everyone behaves in showbiz.
“So, Raven whatcha fenna do? Me and my girls about to head to Pleasers Club. Did you wanna come?”
“No, I’m real tired. I think I’m gonna go to sleep. What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“Gurrll, I don’t even know. But with Rico, you can believe it won’t be before noon! Don’t worry about it; we’ll call you early enough!”
“I just didn’t wanna be holding nobody up,” I clarified.
“You sure you don’t wanna go to Pleasers? You don’t know what you’re missing?”
“Why? What is Pleasers?”
“Psst. It’s just a club.”
“What kinda club?”
“A strip club. Men dancers on one side, women dancers on the other side. That’s probably where Rico an’em are going anyway.”
I was tempted as hell to go. Had never been to a place like that. However, my body felt like it needed to sleep for a month.
“Naw, I don’t think so ......”
“We ain’t leaving the hotel ‘til around midnight. You could go to sleep now, and I could come wake you up around 11:15.”
The private elevator doors opened to our floor as we continued our conversation.
“Nia, I don’t know?”
“Aw-right. But, you’re gonna miss King Kong?” Nia toyed with me, as she slowly turned towards her room.
“Okay, I’ll ask. What or who’s a King Kong?”
“Can’t explain, you’ll just have to see it for yourself.”
“No promises, but call me at 11:00,” I finally conceded.
The Night CHAPTER TWO
That night at Pleasers, the parking lot was filled with nothing but expensive cars; Mercedes, Lexus’, Jaguars, Porches, BMW’s, Audi’s, and all the oversized expensive SUV’s. Even saw a Ferrari.
Nia’s friend was expectedly cute and sexy dressed.
Tyanna had a look like Beyonce’ from Destiny’s Child. About 5’8, maybe 135 pounds, hair in microbraids and dyed brown-blonde, a meat-n-potatoes backside and a bright dimple smile across her bronze colored face.
She was the only girl, other than me, that looked like they’d eaten a decent meal in the last six months, or that weighed over 115 pounds.
I was kinda diggin’ her style, too. And not just because her shape, closest resembled mine. Her approach was definitely eye catching. She was wearing a camouflage print spandex top with only one shoulder strap and four narrow horizontal splits, revealing a peak at her cleavage. Low cut jeans with a chain belt. The jeans were cut so low her tattoo was peeking out the back. Another tattoo was making its debut on her chest. Tyanna even had a flashing light naval button.
If I was a guy, I’da been confused as to where to look on her. She had a plethora of look here items.
Nia’s look here area was easy to figure out; the same as at the bus station, her titties. She loved tight shirts with writing on them. Her busty-ness always stretched the letters horizontally. And, her itty bitty lower torso just magnified her bosom.
Nia and I probably wore the same cup size. But, because of her smaller frame, her endowment looked more dramatic. Not to mention, they were shaped perfectly round, like a firmly packed ball of clay.
Tonight I could tell she didn’t have a bra on. Which made me wonder, ‘Was her perkiness a result of some augmentation?’ Maybe, I was just jealous.
As we walked from the parking lot, I noticed the line to get into the club was extremely long. But that didn’t impact us as we were heading toward a side door VIP entrance.
I loved this type of life; never waiting for anything. I didn’t even get ‘carded’ at the door. I was with Nia, and I guess that was good enough for the bouncer.
Inside the club, the hip hop music was loud. Not to mention the combination of the screaming men and women.
The stage was in the middle. There was a wall that divided the stage in half. One side was filled with men watching women dance. You couldn’t see the dancers on the other side of the wall. However, from around the side of the stage, I could see the excited men waving dollar bills.
We sat in a private booth that had better furniture in it than my mom had in her house. Black leather sofas, expensive looking coffee and end tables, entirely enclosed by tinted glass. This was cool because it helped reduce some of the blaring noise from the speakers.
Shortly after sitting down, our shirtless, g-string male waiter came to take our order. Nia ordered a sex on the beach. Tyanna, a blue motherfucker. When he turned to me to take my order, the giggles came out. The waiter’s dick was hanging very nicely in his g-string, and was directly in front of my face.
Nia stepped in, “Umm...she’ll have a sex-on-the-beach, as well.”
“All on your tab, Nia?” he clarified.
“Yeah.”
Nia turned to me somewhat surprised by my reaction.
“Girl, how old is you?”
“19. Why?”
“Ooooo. I don’t know if this girl can hang with us, Nee?” Tyanna jumped in.
“Why? How old are you guys?” I quickly responded.
“21”, said Nia. “22”, responded Tyanna.
“Oooo, Nee. We gotta get her a private dance with King Kong,” Tyanna proposed, very giddy.
Nia covering a smile with her hand, nodded yes back to Tyanna.
As the waiter returned with our drinks, I folded my lips in, to keep from giggling again.
Nia reached over to me with a twenty dollar bill, “Here Raven. Give this to him.”
I attempted to hand it to him. But he moved his hands above his head, gyrated his lower body before pushing his groin closer to the bill in my hand.
“Put it in his g-string,” Tyanna leaned over and whispered to me.
As I did, looking up I caught him glaring at me with very sexy, serious eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, kissing the back of my hand.
“Alright, here we go....,” Tyanna said, raising her glass, waiting for us to do the same.
“Get ready to take it to the head!”
The way they were preparing themselves, I figured out, Tyanna meant we’re supposed to drink it, all at once. Both Nia and Tyanna made it. I wasn’t a liquor drinker, so it took me about three times to get my drink all the way down.
In Iowa, we drank mostly beer at parties.
As we downed drink after drink, the liquor started getting me bold.
“So Nia, what’s the deal between you and Rico?” I slurred out.
“Ohhhpp. Nee, I think your girl’s drunk.” Tyanna instigated.
“I am not. So whatzup? Is he your man or what?”
“Look at Miss Iowa all up in my biz-ness.” Nia said with a smile.
“Naw, Rico ain’t my man. He’s just my agent.”
“She thinks Rico’s your man?” Tyanna giggled toward Nia. “I know what she needs. Raven needs some business of her own, instead of being all up in yours. I’ll be right back!” Tyanna continued with a mischievous grin and a wink.
Tyanna returned with a cute as hell, brown skinned male dancer; a six-foot-two, mouth watering piece of chocolate.
“Wooooo-oo!” Nia screamed as they came through our door.
Tyanna quickly put her bottom back in the leather seat, so not to delay the show.
Costumed in a loin cloth, gold fig leaves looped around each bicep and a string of fig leaves around his forehead. He had a god-like chest that he could make bounce by flexing, a stomach that rippled like a Ruffles potato chip and arms like damn!
“Did you guys want the regular VIP dance or the Private VIP?” asked the dancer.
Tyanna and Nia looked at each other, turned in unison to harmoniously scream, “The PRIVATE!”
The man then went to our door and turned the lock. He started dancing over by Nia first, and then made his way around the room, letting each of us spank his butt.
Next, he centered himself in the middle of the room, paused for dramatic purposes, and then ripped off his loin cloth.
“Ohhhh my goodness!” screamed Nia, clapping her hands together.
“Damn, King Kong!” yelled Tyanna, even more excited.
I was just in shock. So, this was King Kong? Aptly named. I’m not lying; his dick had to be 14 inches long. Non-erect! And, it had girth too. It didn’t seem real. Hell, the damn thing hung midway down his thigh.
This time, when Kong made his way around the room, it was much more sensual. Placed his dick in Nia’s hands; took two hands to hold it! Did the same with Tyanna and me.
I was hot as hell inside just holding that dick. Could see it in Nia and Tyanna too.
These were some wild girls! I was definitely intoxicated; by the liquor and by Kong.
His third trip around the room, he incorporated our bodies into the show. Caressing and sucking on Nia’s titties through her shirt, until her eyes closed in shear enjoyment and her nipples were popping through.
Then he stood Tyanna up, facing her towards the sofa. Bent her over. Put her hands on the back of the sofa and began mocking ‘doggie style’ with her. Keeping her in that bent-over position, he stood off to the side of her, reached over her backside between her legs and began stroking slowly across her jeans; up and down, then side to side.
It marked the first time anyone had been able to shut her up all night.
That is, until she moaned, “Uhhh-uhh”.
After Tyanna made that passionate noise, Kong really went to work on her. Increasing his pace. Stroking the hell out of her until Tyanna’s body shivered forcing her to grab his hand as she tried to straighten up.
By her lip-folded, eye-dazed expression on her face, I knew Tyanna had just cum. Hell, I was damn close myself just witnessing the action.
Nia giggled in the aftermath of watching him with Tyanna and in the anticipation of me being next.
“Hold out your hands,” Kong instructed me, as he poured some warm oil into my hands.
Placing his thang in my hands, his eyes signaled for me to begin stroking him. I did.
“Yeah girl! Work it girl!” shouted the renewed Tyanna.
“No, you work her!” choreographed Nia.
Kong obeyed. He began giving me the same treatment as Nia, manly caressing and nipple pinching through my shirt. Then he nibbled my neck, while his hand, now between my legs, rubbed me into ecstasy. Tightly held onto his neck as I couldn’t help but to cum in my pants.
“Look at her face!” Nia enjoyed laughing to Tyanna.
Nia’s comment made Kong cut my time short, as he returned to her.
Lifting up Nia’s shirt, revealing her perfect Playboy magazine breasts, he began sucking hard until her face squinted. Unbuttoned her pants, slid his hand way down deep; deep enough to reach pay dirt.
Just before Nia’s body began convulsing, I noticed that Kong was only semi-hard. This guy was incredible!
Then I noticed Tyanna, shamelessly getting out of her clothes. And so did he.
He started to abandon Nia to go towards Tyanna, until Tyanna demanded, “Uhn-uhn. You’re not done with her yet!”
With Nia lying on her back, he slid her narrow hips completely out of her pants and nestled his head between her legs.
From my viewpoint, all I could see was the back of Kong’s head moving side to side, like he was saying ‘no’. And Nia’s legs shaking and her body continuously jerking up and down. Her facial expression had no remnants of the sophistication I’d seen earlier in the bus station.
“Ahhh, shit. I’M CUMMING! I’m cummin, cummin’, cummin’,” Nia feverishly exhaled with glazed, wandering eyes as her hands were desperately trying to push his head out of that area.
Tyanna was busy playing with herself as Kong, now fully erect, stood up to see who was next. There were no volunteers, so Kong decided it must be my turn. I guess, because I had the most clothes on.
Shortly after Kong had lifted my shirt, re-nibbled my already sore nipples and stroked me to a sequel orgasm, Tyanna made a comment.
“Okay now, somebody’s gotta get fucked!”
There was a pause.
Tyanna continued “I’m sayin’, we bought the Private VIP, whozit gonna be?”
Silence. Nobody dared volunteer.
I thought, ‘Why don’t she do it? She brought Kong back here? It was her idea?’
There was no way in hell that I was gonna attempt to handle Kong inside me! I knew he had too much for me. This man had just given three girls orgasms, at least once each, some of us twice, without being as so much as fully erect. Oh, hell no! I don’t think I could ever be that drunk.
“Y’all scared!” declared Tyanna.
“Yeah we scared. Why don’t you do it!” battled Nia.
“I ain’t scared!”
“Then do it!” Nia again challenged.
There was a brief pause before Tyanna said to Kong, ‘Come on’ as she positioned her body back against the leather sofa.
Judging by Tyanna’s face I think she needed Nia to challenge her into doing it with Kong.
As Kong unwrapped a condom, that when rolled up on his massive dick looked like a thimble, Tyanna appeared to be having second thoughts. But, I’d learn, she was not the kind who’d punk out, even when she should.
Her normal in your face demeanor had humbled a bit. Softened, somewhat. And, her eyes never left his dick. Wanting to know its location at all times. Apparently, didn’t want any surprise penetration. No more I guess, than a kid would want a surprise shot from a doctor.
Nia and I intensely watched; unabated curiosity. Wondered what the outcome would be, though we were pretty certain of it. But, like a Mike Tyson fight, we were still drawn.
As Kong positioned himself on his knees in front of Tyanna, spread her legs apart in a ‘V’, took himself in his right hand preparing to penetrate, Tyanna decided to forego ego and make a plea.
“Wait, wait, wait. Go SLOW! OKAY?! Very slow! And, not deep!” Tyanna said, staring directly into his eyes and nodding.
Kong just smiled at her nervousness. Reassuringly, he nodded back. He must’ve heard that type of apprehension, all of his life. Every girl he’d ever been with must’ve had the same reaction.
“I-yigh-yigh-yigh, ooo-ooo-ooo,” Tyanna groaned as he entered.
This match up was already a no-contest. Not more than four to five, slow four-inch-deep strokes into it, Tyanna was begging.
“Ooooo-ooo, Slower, slower, oh my gaa... oh my gaa... oh my gaa..... oh my shit...I...I’m....Cu...um...MING!..I’m...cum... mm...ming!”
Tyanna’s thick legs were shaking. Her face was dually pained with embarrassment of her duration and by the residual ecstasy, not yet fully released.
Still connected, Kong leaned back to give us a better view. And, out of pure desire to prove clear supremacy, decided to showboat for Nia and me. Pinched Tyanna’s reddened nipples, to a now full half inch. Gave her about an inch more of himself. Seductively moistened his thumb with his tongue, and then placed it directly on her clit.
No need for a referee to declare a winner in this contest. A picture’s worth a thousand words. He wasn’t moving at all. No pumping. No humping. Nothing. Meanwhile, Tyanna was going crazy.
“Oh my gaa...oh my gaa...oh my gaa-aah.....OOHH, OH-Shit, Oh my gaa...Ohh-SHIT”, Tyanna shrieked, as she tried to make eye contact with him between her jerking.
I have to give the girl credit. Tyanna’s will was very strong. Though, she wasn’t fooling anybody. She was definitely Kong’s puppet. He was no more than five, out of a possible fourteen inches deep and she’d already cum three or four times, in about a ninety second span. Yet, she hung in, as best as she could. I’ll give her that!
Realizing that Tyanna’s common sense was definitely exceeded by her ego; an ego that would not allow her to concede on her own, Kong decided to do it for her. Slowly backing out his now creamy condom, signaling it was the end with a kiss to Tyanna’s exhausted and flushed face.
Though, the whole thing lasted less than 10 minutes, judging by Tyanna’s face, would’ve sworn it’d been two hours.
“Thanks baby! You were great!” he said so genuinely, I would’ve believed him, had I not just seen it.
Then Kong turned to me and Nia.
“Anybody else want some?” Kong encouraged, holding up fresh condom packets.
Me and Nia, unplanned, had the same exact reaction. Moving away from him, shaking our heads, ‘Hell No!’.
“Thanks ladies!” Kong said, handing each of us his card. “Call me anytime you wanna have some more fun! I’m gonna have the waiter bring you guys some more drinks.”
Looking over to Tyanna, he publicly announced, “Don’t worry about it babe, I do this for a living! I’m an adult film performer. Listen, you’re not bad, for not being a professional!”
Then Kong continued out a back door to our booth that I hadn’t even known existed.
Shocked looks were on all three of our faces, after his revelation. It certainly explained why the three of us couldn’t handle him. And, I guess his comment was of some consolation to Tyanna.
We took turns cleaning up in the private bathroom that was located in our booth before resuming our drinking. We were attempting to regain the high we’d all lost, due solely to Kong’s visit.
Tonight, was very exciting. It was the kind of night where you wanted a souvenir. Although I was certain, my memory of this night would never fade.
I’ve always considered myself as a little on the wild side. But, I’d never had an opportunity in Iowa, like I did tonight.
This wild escapade was bonding us together. Guess it makes sense. When you orgasm in front of someone, it’s only natural that you feel a connection. Like our own little secret, that only the three of us shared.
Later, we even felt comfortable teasing and mocking each other about our moments.
Nia teased Tyanna, “Girl, Kong had yo’ thighs shaking like a 6.0 earthquake!”
Nia cracked up laughing. So did Tyanna. I just smiled, not sure of how far to take it.
“Aw, fuck you girl!” Tyanna said with a smile. “What about you, Nee. When that boy was lickin’ yo’ pussy, I thought you were having a seizure!” Tyanna continued by shaking her body and rolling her eyes to the top of her head, mocking Nia.
They both, giggled again.
“Oh, and don’t think we forgot about you, Iowa,” Tyanna included me. “Iowa-girl trying to have an orgasm on the sly. I saw your lips quivering, while you were trying to suck in air. Sounded like a damn tuba player with asthma!”
We all fell out laughing and raised a toast to King Kong, then headed back to the hotel.
Schooled CHAPTER THREE
The next day, I woke up at the crack of noon. Eyes badly in need of some Visine. I had cotton mouth. My head was spinning from the Sex on the Beach. Nipples still erect from last night’s sex-on-the-sofa.
Had all the symptoms of a wild night out. The only thing I didn’t have was any regrets. I’d had the time of my life. Felt free.
As I turned to grab the phone to order some food, I just about screamed when I saw someone sleeping in the other bed. I’d forgotten that Tyanna came back to the hotel with us last night. And, that she’d stayed in my room.
I ordered two servings of pasta before taking a long hot shower. By the time I came out of the bathroom, Tyanna was awake and the food was sitting on the table.
“Whazzup girl?” Tyanna greeted me.
“Nothing. I ordered you some pasta, if you’re hungry?” I said sitting on the bed, lotioning my legs.
“Thanks Iowa!” Tyanna responded. Then she seemed to notice the size of my legs as I was putting on my underwear. “Girl, I didn’t know you were that thick. Girl, you gotta nice body!”
“Thanks. So do you!”
“So whatchya think Iowa?”
“’Bout what?”
“About last night?!”
“Oh, that was cool! I had a good time.”
“I know you did!” Tyanna smiled.
“No, I know YOU DID! I don’t know how you did it with King Kong?”
“I dunno either! Especially seeing as I don’t get too much dick.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She was a very pretty girl. I couldn’t imagine her having a tough time finding men to screw.
“Well you could’ve fooled me. Even King Kong said you were good!”
“Psst. Please. That shit don’t count. He was just being nice. He knew he wore me the fuck out!” Tyanna contagiously giggled at the end of her sentence. Apparently, she’d just done a visual rewind of last night.
“Yeah, he was good. But, damn. He is a porn star, after all. I’ll bet he gets paid big dollars!”
“No. I mean, he probably makes decent money. But, not nearly as much as the women he’s fucking in the movie! Did you know that some women in adult films make up to $5,000 per film?”
“Damn! That much! How do you know that?”
“Yeah, I looked into it once. But I don’t think I could stand running into big-dick niggas like Kong.”
“Yeah, I hear you!” I agreed.
“I mean, they ain’t all big like that. I’ve been to a couple tapings.”
“You have!”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. I’ve even been offered $4,000 by a producer to be in his film. Not like I was shame or anything. It’s just, that they expect the girls to do alotta shit. You know anal stuff.”
“Oh, hell no!”
“I’m saying, it ain’t that bad. I’ve done it before. Privately. Actually, the best orgasms I’ve ever had were from anal sex.”
“Don’t that shit hurt?”
“Naw, not really. Well, no more than sex did, the first time I had it. You just start slow and use lots of lubrication. Start with fingers, first.”
Okay, now she was giving me too much information.
“It still sounds like it hurts.”
“I can’t explain it right. You’ll just have to try it for yourself someday.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so!”
“Whatever. Anyway, I turned down that producer’s offer. He wanted me to sign to a four movie deal and start right off in the ‘big leagues’, with guys like King Kong. Not to mention anal stuff. I’da done it, if he’d’ve started me off slowly. Start me on an amateur scene first. Maybe, some masturbation scenes, playing with toys or just messing around with other girls. Or at least, some smaller-dick guys, something slow like that,” Tyanna spoke as though she’d done her research.
I was speechless. Well, my mouth was. My mind was very noisy. “So, that’s why she said she ‘doesn’t get too much dick’. She must be bisexual?!” I thought. Also, my mind was hurriedly doing arithmetic. Four movie deal times four grand was $16,000 she turned down. Damn!
Tyanna interrupted my silent calculations, “So, I hear you’re staying with Nia in Atlanta. Are you modeling, singing or what?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I look like a model?”
“Yeah!”
“No I don’t. Models are super skinny..........”
“I can tell you from Iowa. That’s white models. Black models got some meat on their bones. Tyra Banks gotta booty, now don’t she? Besides, you could be one of the background dancers in videos for all I know? And you know, they gotta have something to shake to be in those videos.”
“Well, thanks for the compliment. But, I’m not a model. And, you don’t ever wanna hear me sing!”
“Well then, whatzup? Rico gonna give you a job at the club?”
“No. I dunno. I just met Rico. I was a waitress in Iowa, I thought I might ............”
“Girl, you better ask Rico for a job. You can get pee-aid! That’s where I work.”
Damn, I might wanna to talk Rico?, I thought. I wouldn’t mind making enough money where I could easily turn down a 16 grand offer like Tyanna.
“What do you do?”
“Dance at Rico’s club.”
Uh-oh? I thought. Assumed it was a strip club. Didn’t really want a career as a nude dancer. Though, I was already becoming hooked on Nia and Tyanna’s lifestyle.
“Is it a strip club?”
“Of course. Why? Don’t tell me you’re shame of your body?”
“No, that’s not it. It’s just...... Is that where Nia works too?”
“Heee-ell NO! Nia ain't hardly that wild!”
What was she saying about me? That I was? I thought.
“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think I have the right type of body for nude dancing.”
“There goes that Iowa-thinking again. You’re going to Atlanta. Home of the big booty’s. You definitely have the right type of body. I’m not gonna convince you. I’ll call you at Nia’s when I get back there. Take you to the club. You check it out. The easiest money you’ll ever make!”
“Really?”
“Fo’ real! Make a $1000 a week! Sometimes, five hunnid a night! Nuttin but big ballers come up in Rico’s clubs. Athletes, movie stars, singers. Ain’t no sex goin’ on. Most of ‘em are married and just wanna see some different pussy. That’s it!”
Tyanna definitely had me interested.
While she was in the shower, I chewed on my cold pasta and thought about it. Still kinda wanted to see what type of job I could get without becoming a stripper. Though I did realize I had no real qualifications.
Did alotta thinking.
It could be a good last resort! Wouldn’t hurt to check it out! I’d be able to get a car and my own apartment fast!, I pondered.
Though, to be honest, I didn’t consider myself of the stripper mentality. Nor was I confident in my body or my ability to dance sexy. Wondered, would I be able to make that kinda money? And still, I had reservations on how any girl could make that much money without sex being involved?
After Tyanna’s shower, wrapped in a towel, she continued her presentation on the stripping business.
“Okay, Raven listen. To be a good dancer, you really only need to know four basic dance moves. The Booty Jiggle. The Booty Rub. The Tittie Pinch and The Clit Peek A Boo,” Tyanna said, unwrapping herself to began a demonstration.
“They ain’t hard. The Booty Jiggle is the hardest, but you can get it. Any woman can make her butt shake. But, guys wanna see the booty jiggle,” she said, turning her backside to me.
She stood tall, looking at me over her shoulder as she made her booty jiggle like Jell-O, continuously. Incredibly, she achieved this without great movement from her hips. Her legs were the source of the jiggle, but she’d use them sparingly, just to keep the jiggling going.
Curious as to how she was doing it, I tried it. Not as much success.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it. It’s almost like learning how to hula-hoop. More effort in movement doesn’t mean the hula-hoop will stay around your waist. Same with The Booty Jiggle. But, you’ll get it. Practice in the mirror at home.”
Like Tyanna said, the rest of the moves were much easier.
The Titty Pinch was simply, starting at your waist with your hands, in a swirling motion, work your hands up to your titties. Tightly gripping them both at the same time, you slide your hands to the peaks. Ending with a nipple-hardening, two-fingered pinch. Sometimes, tug the nipples until they snap back like a rubber-band.
The Booty Rub is where a guy is seated in a chair with his legs open. Standing inside his legs with your back to him, hands on his knees, you place the top of you butt in his groin. Keeping pressure on his privates, slowly you rub his stuff with your butt. According to Tyanna, the goal is to try to get him hard with this technique. She also called it the ‘They fall in love with you’ move.
Finally, The Clit Peek A Boo was just that. Standing, facing the guy, you lean back slightly, stretch the skin above your pussy upward and force your clit to peek out. All of these moves are to be done with seductive, almost ‘fuck me’ faces.
Intensely studying Tyanna’s moves like a pre-med major at Harvard, I was startled by the knock at the door. Turned out to be Nia.
Seeing Tyanna re-wrapping herself in the towel, Nia, with raised eyebrows, squinted her nose and began speaking.
“Damn. Eww. Whatch’all doing?”
“Nothing.” both Tyanna and I said the way guilty kids would respond.
“Anyway. Rico said he’s gonna hang here in St. Louis for a couple more days. He offered his car, so that we could drive back. I told him, Hell naw! So, he booked us some airlines tickets. Our flight leaves tonight,” Nia said with a proud smirk.
“I’m flying back tonight. What time d’yalls flight leave Nee?” Tyanna asked Nia.
“7:15”
“So does mine. What airline?”
“Delta.”
“Damn! We gotta be on the same flight!”
“Cool girl! We can hang out tonight. Maybe even take Raven to The Underground or something?”
“Girl, I can’t. I’m s’ppose to work tonight. But, y’all should come by the club. I was telling Raven about it.”