It was the middle of June when the roof really fell in. Ever since the Naughty Girls party G had been playing me extra close. He didn’t care that I had been falling asleep in my classes in school and barely keeping up with the work. Every night at six Pacho picked us up in G’s fly whip and drove us uptown to the Spot like we was royalty or something. G would send me in the back to get my makeup and hair done, and my clothes would be pressed and ready by eight o’clock when folks were beginning to roll in.
G made me sit up at the bar all night long, and even though I knew Moonie had been ordered to watch me and dip on every conversation I had, I didn’t really care. I figured I’d already taken one ass-whipping, so hell, I could take two. I would tell Moonie I was going to the bathroom, then sneak off and go run my mouth with the women who cleaned the rooms in the back, even helping them wipe down the bathrooms and change the sheets in between hoes.
But Moonie was not to be fucked with. He was totally loyal to G, and if you wanted somebody killed he was definitely down for the job. He was slick as hell, too. I couldn’t figure out if he had a woman or any kids, or how he kept his eyes on all things at all times, but he had it down pat. Only the best soldiers made it on Moonie’s front line squad, and from the highest lieutenant to the lowest lookout standing on the corner or sitting on a project bench, nobody crossed Moonie and nobody got next to G.
The spring semester of school was just about over and even though I had managed to pass all my classes I was feeling low-down. Jimmy kept hollering about working at the Spot instead of going to college, G told me I couldn’t enroll in a single summer course unless I had the money to pay for it myself, and to top it all off I was barred from chilling with or even speaking to Dicey. That shit made me feel rebellious like a mother, so once or twice I’d sent messages to her through Cooter, but G had already gotten to her and Cooter came stuttering back and told me Dicey said she wasn’t allowed to talk to me no more.
I was so stressed and bored that for weeks all I did was masturbate. In the shower, in the backseat of Pacho’s whip, and once or twice I put my life on the line and did it laying in bed right next to G. I went through all my sex toys until they didn’t excite me no more. I walked around all day with the Ben Wa balls up in me and practiced clenching my pussy muscles until it was too tight for a tampon.
I couldn’t take the sameness of it all. Day in and day out, the same old thing. New York was hot as hell in the summertime but I didn’t get to enjoy any of it. I wanted to be in Central Park, or hanging out with Rita in Brooklyn, or just walking the streets of Harlem like I used to when I was a kid. Instead I was either cooped up in the apartment during the day or cooped up at the Spot all night. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that a hottie like me was heading straight for trouble, and when I crashed into it headfirst, the only person G had to blame was himself.
I’d been humping those stools for so long that I’d learned how the whole bar operation was run. Liquor was an expensive commodity in the Spot, coming in right behind the drugs and the hoes. By watching Moonie and Cooter I figured out the names of all the mixed drinks and how they was supposed to be shaken or stirred. I dipped on how the finances went down, too. G didn’t run no nickel-and-dime game. Playas put their cash on the line as soon as they walked through the door. A grand to step on the carpet, and another grand that went toward your drinks, lap dances, drugs, and any trim you might just want to buy with the room chips you could purchase at any time. If your balance dipped too low Moonie sent some huge thug like Ace or that fat greasy niggah Pluto over to escort you to the cashier in the back room where they’d lighten you up by another grand.
I couldn’t stand Pluto’s fat ass. Out of all the dealers who worked for G, from the young heads on the streets to the bouncers and security workers who Moonie kept in deep check, Pluto was the only one who stayed up in my shit all the time. Every time I turned around he was either licking his nasty tongue out at me or saying something under his breath. Pluto wanted to fuck me, plain and simple, and if he thought he could do it and get away with it, he’d snatch my ass in a back room and do me all night long.
I didn’t say anything to G about Pluto. I was gonna wait until just the right time to tell on his fat funky ass. The only person who knew about Pluto coming on to me was Cooter, and that’s because he busted Pluto getting drunk and talking loud shit to me at the bar one night.
“H-h-hey, my man,” Cooter had stuttered. “J-j-juicy is a l-l-l-lady. Be cool w-w-with that sh-sh-shit.”
Cooter made sure Pluto saw him glance up the bar at Moonie, and then stood there until fatso took the hint and moseyed his wide ass on. We both knew Cooter hadn’t scared Pluto off. It was that look he’d shot toward Moonie, and the threat of him getting involved that had done it for Pluto.
When he left, Cooter had winked at me and I smiled. I liked Cooter because he was so nice. Simple, but nice. He was real skinny and had some fucked-up skin, and sometimes he stuttered so bad it was hard to understand him, but he was totally down with Moonie, who trusted him to the max, so instead of trying him and playing him like a duck, most niggahs ordered their drinks and left him alone.
Tonight, the staff had been preparing for Ladies Night just like they did every Saturday when Moonie came out of G’s office and told everybody there was gonna be a change in the plan. G was more of a fanatic than Spike Lee when it came to the New York Knicks, and tonight, Moonie said he was closing down the Spot to host a private party for one of the players’ birthdays.
All the strippers and hoes were hyped. Basketball players and other professional athletes always seemed to drop the biggest bank. Maybe it was a manhood thing. Harlem wasn’t the place for no sherms, and since most athletes usually weren’t truly street hard or deep in the game, they spread their cheddar real thick like they had something to prove.
So Knicks, schmicks cause I wasn’t starstruck no more. By now I was used to seeing big names roll up in the Spot. All the rappers and recording artists who profiled in the hottest videos, the big-name actors who starred in the black movies, the pimps and playas who held down Brooklyn and the Bronx, they all rolled heavy in the Spot. I could see why the hoes were happy, but this was non-news for me. Didn’t make me no difference who came through the doors. I was still gonna be bored and uptight because nobody was coming to see me.
Needless to say, I was looking luscious that evening as I always did. Sometimes I thought it was such a big waste of energy for me to be getting all primped and perfumed and dressed in all those fine clothes just to sit up on a bar stool or walk laps around a warehouse-sized club all night. I was getting tired of the routine big time. All that cigarette smoke stinking up my hair, my dogs howling in those high-heeled shoes, and I won’t even go there about all the fucking I saw going on but couldn’t partake in. The sauna, the Jacuzzi, the steam room… sperm was flowing by the gallon in the Spot, but not a drop of it in my direction.
I was sitting at the bar when my trouble walked in. I’d seen him a billion times on television, but never before in person. He played on a team that rivaled the Knicks, but he was cool like that so they made him down in New York. Something about him jumped out at me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. It wasn’t just that he was fine. I could tell that from the TV, and besides, plenty of fine men swung by the G-Spot. And he wasn’t all that tall for a basketball player neither; definitely under six feet, and even though he was damn near the best in the league everybody knew his ass had a problem with showing up for team practices. Maybe it was those cornrows he was rocking, or the way he walked up in the joint like his name was G and he owned it. I don’t know. All I could say was the brother put his almond-shaped eyes on mine and smiled, and I got so wet I was ready to jump down and mop up the bar stool.
He was wearing a white sweatshirt and on the front it read PHILLY. The back read FUCK NEW YORK. Moonie scoped it before old boy got up to the stage, and just by tilting his chin sent a message to three thick-necked bouncers to check him where he stood. He was laughing as he pulled the shirt over his head, and underneath it he had on a white wife-beater with muscles bulging everywhere.
Of course I knew better than to stare. Moonie’s eyes never blinked, and I wasn’t trying to give him no dog bone to go running back to G with. So I played it chill and glanced at the brother once, then kept my eyes moving right along. But I could feel him looking at me, and when I peeped his way again I knew right then and there that he didn’t know shit about Harlem. Hell, he couldn’t have known nothing about any borough in the entire city of New York the way he was eyeballing Granite McKay’s pussy.
I watched him on the sly as he grilled me all night long: winking, grinning, and licking his lips. He was violating G like a mother, and I was waiting for Moonie or one of the bouncers to check him up and put a gun to his head. He was having himself a good old time. Punanee, one of G’s prime strippers, gave him a half-fuck lap dance, and later I peeped him kissing all over Monique’s three titties like he needed to be nursed. I knew Greco was tallying his bill up to the penny, and I also knew his pockets were deep enough where he could afford almost anything he wanted in the Spot.
Almost anything.
I watched him hit the Jacuzzi, then stroll into Ursula’s to get a massage. Later, I saw him go into the card room, then come back out and head for the cinema room. Every time he passed my way he gave me a deep, hard look, like he was fucking me with his eyes. He could have been killed for looking at me twice, and even if this was something he should have known, he damn sure didn’t seem to care. My body was boiling and I couldn’t take it no more.
“I’m hungry,” I told Moonie. “I need to get me some grub.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you send Cooter next door to get you a fish sandwich.”
I wrinkled up my nose even though I usually tore those hot whiting sandwiches up. Ronald Be Bad owned the fish joint next door, but there was also a full kitchen right here in the Spot. We sold fried chicken, hot wings, potato salad, and ribs, and the only reason G let Be Bad stay in business over there was because he didn’t want us frying fish in the Spot and having it “smelling like no stank ass pussies.”
“I got a taste for something spicy,” I told Moonie, sliding down from my stool. “I’ma go get some hot wings. You want any?”
He shook his head like I knew he would. I’d never seen Moonie eat, drink, or even take a piss break while he was working.
The kitchen was on the far left side of the Spot, across from the card room and a small room we used in the winter to check leathers and furs. I’d seen the brother with the braids heading that way, and I wanted to get another peek at him. At the counter I asked Raybelle for an order of wings with extra sauce, and the whole time she was fixing my plate I kept peeping out in the hall, my eyeballs crawling all over the place. I was walking past the card room eating a wing and carrying my plate when he stepped out of the men’s bathroom and stopped right in front of me.
“Damn,” I said, playing it off like I hadn’t been clocking for him in the first place. “Why you jump out like that? What you doing in there anyway?” I spoke with major attitude but he grinned all sexy like he didn’t even notice.
“It says,” he pointed to the sign on the door, “men’s room. I was using the bathroom.”
He sucked me up with those chinky eyes and had the nerve to stick his hands in my plate and grab one of my wings.
I sucked my teeth. “Don’t be putting your nasty hands in my plate! I don’t know where they been!”
He just laughed. “They clean, baby. I didn’t even use the bathroom. I saw you walking back and forth and I was waiting for you to come back past.”
I shrugged and pretended like I was gonna walk around him. “I still don’t know where your hands been.”
He blocked me. “I know where they wanna be.”
I gave him a look. “You must not know who I am. The hoes work out of the back rooms. You can get fucked up talking to me like that up in here.”
“Girl, you been peeping me all night long. I know you ain’t no ho. C’mere.”
He pulled me toward the coatroom snatching my plate so fast the wing I was chewing on slipped from my fingers and hit the floor, sauce everywhere.
“Man, what you doing?” I twisted out of his grasp. The spot where his hand had touched me was hot and tingling.
He put his finger to his lips. “Ssshh… c’mon, girl. You know what time it is.”
I let him pull me into the coatroom. I melted. “We gonna get caught…” I felt like a kid sneaking a hump in the closet. On some level I knew that I was playing with my life, but the thrill of it all had me on fire. I wanted this guy to do me. I wanted to feel him on me, in me, all over me.
He pulled up my dress in the dimness of the room, and pressed his lips to mine. His breath smelled sweet like chocolate. I felt his hands on my ass and I rubbed my titties against his chest. “Damn, you taste good,” he said, his tongue thick and hot and leaving wet streaks on my lips, chin, and collarbone. I was panting, unable to speak. Scared as hell we would get caught but too turned on to even think about stopping.
His fingers were between my legs, urging them wide open. He hiked up my two-thousand-dollar eggshell Armani dress and got on his knees and bit down on my crotch right through my panties. “Oh, damn,” I whispered as his teeth raked across my clit and sent chills shooting through my pussy. “That feels so good.”
He pulled my panties down with his teeth and lifted my thigh over his shoulders. “Yum,” he said, looking between my legs and smacking his lips. “Cute little monkey.”
And then it was on. The moment I had been waiting for and hoping for and praying for. His tongue was everywhere, up, down, probing, licking. I felt his lips on my clit and on my asshole, too. He made his tongue stiff and pushed it in and out of me, using it like a mini dick. I cupped his face, pulling him closer as I worked my hips faster. My fingers were wet and sticky with my juices that were covering his cheeks and dripping from his chin. I shivered and shuddered and almost snatched his cornrows out as I held on to his head and came harder than I ever had in my life. My orgasm had to have lasted only seconds, but it was so sweet it felt like forever. The intensity of it scared me. I felt the whole building rock. It was totally unlike anything I had ever felt before and I never wanted it to end. But as soon as it was over I got hit with a blast of reality. I was up in G’s spot, wearing his clothes, eating his food, and fucking with one of his customers. How stupid could I get?
“Stop,” I said, pushing him away from me. He stood up and pulled his long dick out his pants. I wanted that shit real bad, but I knew better.
“What?”
“I can’t do this.” I jumped into my panties and pulled down my dress. “Sorry, I just can’t. I’m G’s woman and this is his Spot.”
“Motherfuck G,” he said, but at least he didn’t try to stop me. I opened the door and peeked out to make sure nobody was in the hall, then I ran out and pulled it closed behind me.
Back at the bar I sat on my stool and tried to look normal. My pussy was thumping in a delicious afterglow and I kept replaying the act over and over in my mind, feeling his tongue swirling around inside me, rolling over my clit, stabbing up into me. Moonie was standing down at the other end of the bar, so I asked Cooter to go get me a bottle of cold water. Moonie saw me sitting there and came up to the top of the bar. I could feel his eyes studying me, trying to read me like a book.
“Did you get your wings?”
I shook my head and took a swig of water. “Nah. They were frying up a fresh batch and I didn’t feel like waiting.” I don’t know why I lied, but I did. Moonie just looked at me for a minute, then he nodded. “Be right back,” I told him, grabbing my purse. “I’ma hit the bathroom right quick.” I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away. At the entrance to the hall that lead to G’s office and the ladies room, I turned and looked back. Moonie had left the bar, and was heading toward the kitchen, moving fast.
I went in the bathroom and washed my face. I wet a paper towel in the sink then took it into a stall and did my best to wash myself down there. Then I stood in the mirror and combed my hair and put on some fresh lipstick. G hated to see women who had eaten off all of their lip color. He said it made them look busted.
When I went back out to the bar, there was something on my stool. It was my hot wing. Half-eaten with the crown bit off. I frowned and looked up and saw Moonie standing behind the bar and staring dead in my face. I didn’t miss a beat.
“Damn,” I said and poked out my lip. “Greco needs to check his cleaning crew.” I took a napkin from the bar and picked up the wing, holding it out like it was a used tampon. “Some people are so damn trifling.” I switched my ass around to the end of the bar and flung the wing in the trash, then got another napkin and wiped the sauce off the seat real daintylike before sitting down one stool over.
Moonie was still grilling me with his eyes, but so what? Fuck him. He hadn’t been in that coatroom holding no light so he couldn’t tell shit he didn’t know. Besides, I was just getting started. I had finally gotten my pussy licked, and G or no G, I wanted it licked some more.