A bitch is in heat…come stoke this fire…got a nigga lustin’ with desire…got a bitch’s pussy poppin’…spark a blunt, got that chronic liftin’ ya…as I sit ’n spin on ya dick…fat ass clappin’ ya, deepthroatin’ ya…neck snappin’ ya…got ya knees shakin’…bust ya nut, nigga…sexy bitch with the slanted eyes…deep, wet pussy makin’ ya weak…got ya eye on the prize…fuck what ya heard…I’m a hustler baby, a bitch from the streets…
Seven a.m., the Kat line started ringin’. I let out a disgusted sigh. I was too fuckin’ beat to be bothered, so I let it roll into voice mail. A few seconds later, the beepin’ started to let me know the caller had left a message. I turned over in my bed, yankin’ the covers up over my head. A few minutes later, the shit started ringin’ again. Again, I let it go into voice mail. This time the caller didn’t leave a message. It rang again. “What the fuck!” I screamed, jumpin’ outta bed, then snatchin’ it off the dresser. Next time I’ll put this bitch on vibrate, I thought as I opened it. “Yeah.”
“You get my messages?”
“Messages? I got the one from last night,” I said, yawnin’ and stretchin’. “I haven’t checked my phone for any others. I was gonna call you when I woke up. So why is you callin’ me so fuckin’ early in the mornin’?”
“’Cause I wanted to hear ya sexy voice,” he said, laughin’. I let out a disgusted sigh. He got the hint. “Nah, on some real shit. I need to know ASAP if you in on this next gig before I send someone else.”
I really wasn’t feelin’ up to it, but since I’d never been to San Diego before, I decided to go, do a little sightseein’, and see what was really good there. Mmm, I could really use some dick. “When?” I asked, slippin’ on my silk robe, then slidin’ my feet into my slippers. I opened up the glass door to the balcony, then stood in the middle of the doorway and let the cool mornin’ air rush in. My nipples hardened under my robe.
“Like yesterday.”
“Send me the paperwork. And if I accept, I want my money—”
“I know, I know. I got you.”
“Humph,” I grunted. “Make sure you do, Cash. I’m really not beat for cussin’ ya black ass out again.”
He laughed. “Yeah, keep talkin’ nasty. You know that shit gets my dick hard.”
I rolled my eyes and igged his ass. But I had heard his ugly ass had a long, thick, juicy, black dick, though. Ugh. The thought of that fat, nasty nigga smashin’ me down into a mattress, smotherin’ me and sweatin’ and gruntin’ on top of me, made my stomach turn. But the freak-nasty bitch in me wanted to see the nigga’s dick. I shook away the thought.
“Expect ya package sometime this afternoon,” he said. “Then hit me back when you look the shit over.”
“Aiight,” I said.
“Right back,” he snapped.
“I heard you, damn!”
“Oh, aiight…One!”
“Later.” I said, disconnectin’ the call.
I went downstairs and fixed myself two scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese, four slices of turkey bacon, then sliced some cantaloupe and strawberries. When e’erything was ready, I pulled out a stool and sat at my counter, then dug in while flippin’ through my latest edition of Sister 2 Sister. I thought ’bout sparkin’ a blunt, but decided it was too early in the day to get lifted. Besides, I needed to cut down on smokin’. That shit was startin’ to fuck my memory up. And a bitch can’t have that.
Three hours later, my package arrived and just as I was gettin’ ready to go through it, my private line rang. I looked at the number and smiled. It was Grant. “Hello,” I answered, tossin’ the envelope on the counter. I’ll get to this shit later.
“Yo, what’s good, pretty baby? Can a nigga get some love today? I’m tryna come through and scoop you.”
“Oh yeah, and do what?” I asked.
“Come on, ma. Don’t play. You already know.”
“What, you tryna get ya dick wet or somethin’? ’Cause if ya are, I ain’t the one.”
He laughed. “Nah, baby, I ain’t on it like that. I’ma grown-ass man; if a nigga wanna get up in some pussy, I’ll tell ya straight up.”
“Hmm. Yeah, okay. So, where ya tryna take me, ’cause ya ass ain’t sittin’ up in my spot.”
“Let’s start with dinner. Let me get ya address and I’ll be through around six.”
“Where you comin’ from?” I asked, tryna decide if I wanted him all up in my face tonight. It was bad enough I never called him when I got back from Chicago, and I didn’t pick up when he called back last night. I can be real funny-style when it comes to niggas. Besides, once ya ass is always accessible to a muhfucka, he starts expectin’ the shit. I ain’t the one. I learned never let a muhfucka know he got ya ass on lock, otherwise he starts takin’ ya ass for granted. Then I gotta dump a clip in his ass. Besides, he seemed like the type who liked for chicks to be all up on his nuts. Well, that’s cute ’n all. But a bitch like me ain’t beat for sweatin’ no nigga’s balls.
“Newark,” he said. I pursed my lips. Hmm, I thought. What the hell. I gave him my address and directions to my spot. “Bet. I’ll see ya at six, sharp.”
“I’ll be ready. But if ya a minute late, it’s a wrap. A bitch like me don’t wait on a nigga for nothin’.”
“I hear ya, baby. But be clear. A nigga like me ain’t tryna have ya wait.”
“Yeah, that’s what ya mouth says.”
“And that’s what it is. Oh, and wear something sexy.”
I laughed. “Oh, what…you ain’t know? Nigga, I was born sexy.”
“Oh, my bad,” he said, laughin’. “I forgot who I was fuckin’ with.”
“Exactly,” I responded. We said our good-byes, then I ran my ass upstairs to figure out what the hell I was gonna wear. It was a little after eleven, so I had seven hours to show this nigga how a sexy bitch rocks it. I made a quick phone call to my girl Gabby’s salon in SoHo to get my hair done, along with a mani and pedi. Thank God she was able to fit me in. There was nothin’ worse than a chick tryna be fierce with chipped fingernails and man hands and a pair of gorilla feet. I grabbed my keys and bounced out the door.
At exactly six p.m., my doorbell rang. I checked myself in the wall mirror and winked. My cinnamon skin was flawless. No need for makeup; just a splash of lip gloss to accentuate my already pillowy-soft lips. And my silky, naturally long hair hung past my shoulders. I opened the door, smilin’. I ain’t gonna front. The nigga was finer than I remembered. He was dipped in a bangin’ black Versace button-up and black slacks that hung just right and clung in all the right spots. I peeped the bulge behind his zipper and grinned. I was glad I decided to wear a black Yves Saint Laurent jersey halter set—fortunately for me, my titties didn’t sag or flop all over the place so I could go braless—with a pair of black Louis Vuitton six-inch stilettos. I started to rock one of my diamond necklaces, but decided against it. I didn’t wanna overdo it. So I kept it cute, and stuck in my diamond hoop earrings. The nigga stood in my doorway, droolin’. “Is this sexy enough?” I asked, slowly turnin’ around, givin’ him a nice front and back view of my bangin’ body. Yeah, I was teasin’ the nigga, oh well. “Can you put this on for me?” I asked, handin’ him my tennis bracelet.
“Hell yeah,” he said, takin’ the bling and claspin’ it around my wrist. “You killin’ it, baby.”
“Good,” I said, throwin’ my hips and bouncin’ my ass—just enough to let him know what was poppin’ underneath my wears as I walked toward my dinin’ room table. “I just need to get my bag, then I’ll be ready to bounce.” I felt his eyes on me as they followed the outline of my hips, trailed along the humps of my juicy ass. I grabbed my black and white Dooney & Bourke, set my alarm, then followed him out the door.
“So, where you takin’ me?” I asked, slidin’ into the passenger seat of his Bentley Arnage RL. The smell of fresh money filled the car’s cabin and made my nipples harden. I immediately pressed my legs together to keep my pussy from suckin’ in my thong. A nigga caked up always got me wet. Still, although I was impressed with the nigga’s whip, I kept it cute and acted like I’d been ridin’ in one all my life. I learned a long time ago to never let a nigga think he’s schoolin’ you on shit. Just sit back ’n act as if ya was born to live it. Yeah, this nigga was paid. But the beauty of it all was that a bitch like me didn’t need his paper. I smiled. I had come a long way from the days of needin’ a nigga.
“Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride, baby,” he said, flashin’ his sexy smile. He started the engine, then backed out of my driveway. “No need for a bunch of questions. Let a real nigga show you how it’s done.”
I did what I was told, sat back, and got comfy in my seat. I smiled when Teedra Moses’ “Take Me” came on. “What you know ’bout Teedra?” I asked, shiftin’ my body toward him. I was impressed. “A lot of peeps are sleepin’ on her.”
“Yeah, she’s kinda dope,” he said, glancin’ over at me.
I smiled. “I’m surprised.”
“’bout what?” he asked.
“That a rugged nigga like you digs her,” I answered. “You don’t seem like the type that would know anything ’bout her.”
“Wow,” he said, laughin’. “Well, stick with me, baby, there’s a lot more surprises in store. ’Cause I ain’t ya average cat. Don’t get me wrong. I can rock it hardcore with the best of ’em, but every now and then I wanna hear that soft, sexy shit, feel me?”
I laughed. “I feel ya, daddy. I ain’t mad. I guess it doesn’t hurt that she’s also pretty.”
“Yeah, she is. But she can’t hold a candle to you, baby.”
“Good answer,” I said, smilin’.
I leaned back in my seat, then sang along quietly to “You Better Tell Her” when it came through the stereo. I felt him stealin’ glances at me while he drove, but I kept my eyes straight ahead, starin’ at the road and swayin’ to the music. E’ery now and then I gave him sideways glances on the low, tryna figure out what was really good with this nigga’s flow.
“So what kinda niggas you into?” he asked, lookin’ at me as we stopped at a red light.
I stared back at him. “Why, you puttin’ in an application?”
He chuckled. “If I want the position, I’ll just take it. So answer the question.”
I grinned. “To answer ya question, I’m into niggas who ain’t scared of pussy; a nigga who knows how to eat it up and beat it up.” He laughed. “Real talk,” I continued. “I hate a nigga who can’t fuck, and don’t eat pussy.”
“I can dig it. On some real shit, though, you talkin’ like you know how to take a dick and suck a dick.”
“I ain’t scared to put the work in, if that’s what ya askin’.”
“Okay, so what else you look for in a cat?”
“He gotta know how to keep shit real,” I stated. “I can’t stand a lyin’-ass muhfucka, or a nigga who thinks I’m some weak chick he can mind-fuck. That’s when the bitch comes out, and I gotta bring it to him. Anyway, I’m into a nigga who knows how to keep his dick in his pants and who ain’t easily impressed by a bitch tryna offer him some pussy. A nigga who ain’t beat for creepin’ with the next bitch. I’m into a nigga who knows how to hold it down in and out of the bedroom; a get-money type nigga who handles his business without bringin’ that street drama up in my space.”
He nodded, takin’ it all in. “I hear ya, baby. So why you don’t have a man?”
I thought for a minute before I spoke. Flashes of all the bitches I knew who lived and breathed a man came to mind. Bitches who couldn’t live without a man, who thought not havin’ one was the end of the world, that somehow they were nothin’ without one. Bitches who would sell their souls for a stiff dick rammed up their ass. I shook the images outta my head. The thought of ever becomin’ one of them weak bitches made me sick to my fuckin’ stomach. Ugh, how I hate weak bitches!
“’Cause a man don’t define me,” I finally said, lookin’ directly at him, “and havin’ a man isn’t something I need.”
“Sure you do,” he said, grinnin’.
I frowned. “How you figure?”
“’Cause a woman has needs, and no matter how many times she says she doesn’t need or want a man, at the end of the day, she still wants to feel loved and needed and wanted. She still wants a man to make her feel special.”
“Then she’s a damn fool,” I snapped. “A chick shouldn’t haveta have a man to make her feel special. She should already feel special. She shouldn’t have to rely on a man to be loved. She should already love herself.”
He smiled. “It’s more about companionship. Having someone she can feel connected to; someone to spend her life with.”
Humph, fuck all the extras. Just give me the dick. I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess,” I said.
“So, you don’t wanna spend ya life with someone special; have someone you can share your hurts and fears with, someone you can grow old with?”
I took a deep breath. A bitch wasn’t ready for this discussion. “I don’t think about it,” I said honestly. Hell, most niggas were too muhfuckin’ shady for my likin’. And some of ’em acted worse than bitches.
“Oh, okay. Let’s switch gears. Since you don’t seem to need anyone to handle ya emotional needs, how about having a man to handle ya sexual needs?”
I held up both hands and wiggled my fingas. “This is what these are for,” I said. “They never let me down.”
He smiled. “Okay, but what about those nights when you wanna feel something thick up in ya guts?”
“Oh, not to worry,” I said, smilin’. “That’s what my collection of dildos is for. And if I just need a quick touch-up, I have a thick mini-vibrator to take the edge off. Two double-As and it’s good to go all night long. No stress; no mess. I can just nut and go.”
He laughed as he drove toward the Lincoln Tunnel. “Oh, shit,” he said, grippin’ the steerin’ wheel and tryna keep his eyes on the road while lookin’ over at me. “You funny as hell, word up. I see you got a answer for everything.”
“Yep,” I agreed. “I’m that bitch; I thought you knew.”
“So I see,” he said, pullin’ up to the toll booth. He handed the busted chick in the booth a twenty. “Well, I guess since you don’t seem to need or want a man, there’s no sense in me tryna push up on ya.”
“That’s on you. I just know I’m not gonna expect much. Expectations open the door for disappointments, and I’m not the one.”
“I feel you,” he said, holdin’ his hand out for his change. The ho was so busy tryna check for him she had to recount the money. I rolled my eyes. The old me woulda been on some real extra shit and woulda blasted her ass.
When he pulled off and made his way through the tunnel, I looked over at him and said, “I guess you got a lotta bitches checkin’ for you.”
“Nah, not really. I mean, there’s a few. But it ain’t that serious.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, half-believin’ him. It wasn’t like I was tryna make him my man. Hell, he could fuck whoever he wanted. I just wanted to test ride the dick for myself. But, still, a bitch wanted to know how he did him. “So, how many baby mamas you got?”
“None.”
“How many bitches you fuckin’?”
“Two.”
“Oh, and what…you tryna add me to the list?”
“Maybe,” he said, glancin’ over at me. I smiled. I was really diggin’ him. “Why you smilin’?”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t share.”
He grinned. “Oh, so what you sayin’, you tryna have me all to yourself?”
“Maybe,” I said, lickin’ my lips and starin’ at him real sexy-like, “maybe not.”
“Yeah, aiight.” He laughed, weavin’ in and outta traffic through midtown. “You got a lotta shit with you, but it’s all good.”
I smiled, but said nothin’. The rest of the ride we were both silent, listenin’ to the music ’til he turned down Lexington. I peeped Bloomingdale’s on Fifty-Ninth, and automatically knew where we were headed: Mr. Chow’s, my all time fav Eastside spot where fashionistas, money-makers, and celebs frequented, and the food was bangin’. Yeah, it was pricey, and definitely not a spot for a penny-pincher, but it was well worth it. I smiled, thinkin’ ’bout the last time I was there, sittin’ two tables away from Beyoncé and Jay-Z. And four tables over was the one and only Donald Trump, politickin’ with a group of associates. Oh, yes, it was definitely a spot for a bitch like me—rich and beautiful. “Hmmm…how’d you know I like Chinese?”
“I don’t know, educated guess. You seemed like a Peking duck kinda chick.”
I laughed. “Yeah, okay. I got ya duck, alright.”
He laughed with me. “As long as I can have it with sauce, I’ll take it however you got it.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, grinnin’. “I bet you will.”
After he parked across the street, he opened the door to let me out, then grabbed my hand and held it as we walked up to the restaurant. Once we were seated and our food finally came to our table, a bitch was so fuckin’ hungry I coulda ate a horse. I had the chicken satay appetizers and shrimp toast with the bangin’ sweet brown sauce, then the spicy green shrimp. Grant had the shrimp with glazed walnuts and crunchy seaweed and chicken skewers. We ate, drank, and laughed like we had known each other for years. By the time we finished our third drink, I learned he was born in Hollis, Queens, but was raised in Newark. Played football in high school, and went to college on a football scholarship, but dropped out after his second year when he got hurt and couldn’t play ball anymore. He had three brothers and two sisters and was the middle child. He was twenty-eight and was ready to settle down.
I ain’t gonna front, the nigga made me feel real comfortable. He was smooth and sexy and so damn fuckable. And let me tell you. After three glasses of Pinot Grigio, a bitch wanted somethin’ more than that light, fruity shit. A blunt and some Rémy XO woulda really set it off and had me lifted and right. But I kept it cute, and sipped on the rest of my wine, grinnin’ and flirtin’ and buildin’ with this fine-ass nigga in front of me. He grinned back and we both already knew what it was. Yeah, muhfucka, I’ma have my pussy all over ya face in no time.
After we finished dessert and another round of drinks, Grant paid the bill, then took my hand and led me out the door. His big, warm hand made my pussy tingle. And as soon as we got back into his whip, he reached over and started kissin’ all over my neck and rubbin’ my titties and circlin’ my nipple with his thumb. My nipples hardened and I let out a moan. It felt like a bitch’s whole body was bein’ electrocuted. Sparks shot through me. His hands were big, strong, and soft…and his touch was sendin’ a bitch over the edge. I had to stop him before I ended up fuckin’ him in the front seat of his whip. My mind was tellin’ me to push him off me, but my body was in need of a thug-nigga’s touch. It had been so fuckin’ long since a bitch had a real nigga slay this pussy. I couldn’t think straight.
Since the only niggas I’ve fucked and sucked for the last four years have been the ones I’ve slumped, fuckin’ them allowed me to get my nut off and not have to worry ’bout a nigga puttin’ me on front street. Murkin’ their asses made fuckin’ them that much easier. They’d take my slutty deeds to their graves.
I know I’m a ho like the next bitch, but…fuck! Not on the first date. Not in the front seat of a car. Not in a parking lot. No. No. No. No. I heard the words in my head, but can’t remember sayin’ them. A bitch became a fuckin’ mute. My tongue was stuck in the back of my throat, right where I wanted his dick to be. Oh…my…God!
He nibbled on my chin, lightly brushed his thick, soft lips against mine, then pulled away, flickin’ the tip of his tongue against my upper lip. “I better get you home,” he finally said in his deep, sexy voice. Just like that! He had a bitch’s thong drenched. Had her pussy cracklin’, and…“I better get you home” is what he hits me with. What the fuck?!
Oh, no this nigga didn’t, I thought, pressin’ the heat from my pussy shut between my legs. This nigga is teasin’ me. He went to start the ignition, and before I knew what was happenin’, a bitch had climbed up on him and straddled his lap, and was tonguin’ him down, and grindin’ my pussy into him. I sucked on his long tongue like it was a dick, twirlin’ my tongue around his. I hadn’t kissed a real nigga in years and…his lips, my lips, his tongue, my tongue…made my body shiver. He started thrustin’ his hips up into my pussy, grabbed hold of my ass with both of his hands and started squeezin’.
“I wanna fuck,” I whispered in his ear. “You got a bitch on fire.” I sucked on his earlobe, traced his ear with my tongue.
“Yeah, baby,” he moaned. His head was pressed back on his headrest, and his eyes were half-closed as his fingas found the center of my wet pussy. He slid his hand under my dress and pulled at the string of my thong. He slid one finga, then two, inside my slit.
I moaned. “Mmm…you got some thick fingas.”
“That’s not the only thing thick,” he said in between soft, warm kisses on my lips.
“That’s what ya mouth says.”
“And that’s what my dick says.”
His fingas stirred my hole. “Deeper,” I said. Twinge of desire shot from my asshole all the way to my clit, like sparks. The steam from my pussy could have fogged up the tinted windows. I arched my back, pressin’ up against the leather steerin’ wheel. I reached underneath me and felt the thickness of his dick pressin’ against his slacks. He was stirrin’ my pussy up just right, and I was on my way to bustin’ a thick nut. My body started buckin’. “Mmmmm…you wanna feed me that dick, daddy?”
“Yeah, baby.” He brushed his lips against mine, losin’ his fingas in my wetness. I moaned again. “That’s right, baby. Bust that nut for daddy; wet daddy’s fingers.” I clenched his fingas with my pussy, started grindin’ deep and hard on his hand, bit him on his bottom lip, and nutted all over his fingas. Sweat dripped from my face.
“Damn, you got a a nice, hot pussy.” He smiled, pullin’ his cummy fingas from outta my hole. Then he fucked a bitch up when he stuck them in his mouth and sucked the cream off ’em. “Mmmm…and it tastes like honey, too.” He kissed me on the lips, then stuck his fingas in my mouth. He watched me, grinnin’ as I sucked them down to the knuckles. I ran my tongue in between each one, then climbed off him and sat back in my seat. My nut ran down between my legs as I shifted in my seat, tryna fix my short dress so my wet ass wouldn’t stick to his leather seats.
I flipped down the visor to check my face. I smiled. Sweaty and all, a bitch’s face was still in place. “Shit,” I said. “This was a real bird move.”
“What?” he asked, startin’ the ignition and pullin’ outta the space.
“Lettin’ you run ya fingas all up in me.”
“Nah, baby,” he said real easy-like, lookin’ over at me. “It’s all good. You ain’t rustlin’ no feathers. This was just the beginning of what’s to come. You’se a real dime. And I’m tryna be the man you need. Real talk.”
I smiled. “Oh yeah. And what makes ya think I need a man?”
He grinned. “’Cause ya body told me all I needed to know.”
I sucked my teeth. “Whatever, nigga!” I snapped, playfully hittin’ him on the arm.
He bust out laughin’, makin’ his way back to my spot.