Heartless

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  The man gives them a nonchalant head-nod. The waitress sets the bottle right next to the other five that they have collected since they got here. As the waitress steps away, Storm makes a quick assessment of the man. She studies him carefully. With the extensive jewelry that he has on, he could easily be a rapper or a ball player, she thinks to herself. That is until he stands up and reveals his height of about five feet five inches tall. His height to weight ratio counts him out as a ball player. She also gets a close enough glimpse of his face to know that he’s not a famous rapper. She quickly charges him off as another drug dealer in the building.

  “He’s kind of cute,” Toy admits.

  “Drug dealers come a dime a dozen,” Storm replies not, even looking her way. She has nothing against drug dealers, but she’s been carefully avoiding them all night. Their money spends just as the celebrities’ money, but tonight she’s in search of a bigger catch. Besides, the drug dealers come with too many headaches. They all want something for nothing, and their big egos from being the biggest man in their little cities make them hard to deal with. They feel like the woman should be honored to be with them.

  Storm slams her glass of cranberry juice onto the table. “Time to make magic,” she says as she cheers the women on. “The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is right over there,” she says as she points to the table where a few football players are. “Toy, you set it off since Wendy on that shy shit. Warm them up, and she will follow up.”

  Wendy is the newest addition to the team. She stands in height, right between Storm and Toy. She wears her hair in long Poetic Justice braids. She’s not what Storm considers high yellow, but more of a redbone. She despises those as well.

  Wendy is a cute, chunky cheeked girl with big dimples in both aspects. The cheeks on her face are pinch-able, but the cheeks on her rear just make a man want to grab as much in his hand as he possibly can. Her big, soft rear is uncontainable, no matter what jeans she wears. Her small boobs and waistline explode into a huge rear with equally thick legs, making her top and bottom look mix-matched.

  This is Wendy’s first time attending an event with them, and she has butterflies. Her nervousness has nothing to do with trading sex for money because she’s no stranger to that. She is new to getting paid what she’s worth though. She’s been getting cheated in the hood ever since she first became sexually active, giving up her goods to small time drug dealers only for them to shortchange her in the end and not give her a dime. She just ends up getting promised love while only getting used for her sex and her body. Storm promised her that those days are long behind her now.

  Toy gets up with no hesitation. She smooths her dress over her curves and admires how the dress is fitting her. She turns around with her ass facing Storm and Wendy. “What this ass looking like?” she asks with a smile on her face.

  The dress clings to her butt which looks like two bowling balls. A deep wedgie cuts right through the middle like an ax. Toy pinches the silky material and pulls the wedgie out. She spreads the dress over her cheeks smoothly.

  “Looking like money,” Storm replies, further boosting her confidence.

  “Enough said,” Toy says as she steps away from them. She glides across the room elegantly. All motion at the table freezes as she approaches them. They all look her up and down in a trancelike state.

  She can’t imagine what Toy’s opening line must have been, but whatever it was, they opened up their circle and let her right in. She entertains the group of men like a seasoned vet. They are laughing their heads off as she controls the group. It’s evident to Storm that the Ecstasy pill Toy consumed a few minutes ago has kicked in because she can tell the difference in her swagger. On E, she’s super aggressive and confident.

  Storm looks to Wendy. “Go on over and back her up. She’s got them right where y’all need them.”

  Wendy has taken a pill as well, but has a total different effect on her than Toy. Right now she seems to be more dizzy than she normally is. As beautiful as she is, she’s as dumb as a doorknob. All beauty with no brains.

  Wendy gets up nervously. When she was back in Jersey, she was all in but now that they are here she has cold feet. Storm hates to throw Wendy out there with the sharks, but she feels experience is the best teacher. Instead of working her up to this, she’s giving her a crash course.

  “What to say though?” she asks in her most naive state as she fiddles with her.

  “Fuck you mean, what to say? You scared of niggas now?” Storm asks with frustration.

  “I mean, these ain’t no regular niggas though,” says Wendy. “These niggas multimillionaires.”

  “What the fuck that mean? All niggas is the same whether rich or poor. They dumb as shit and think with their dicks,” Storm explains. “If anything, these niggas easier marks than the broke frontin’-ass niggas back at home. These niggas just started getting pussy once they got drafted. Before that they were a bunch of no game having, no pussy getting, ball players. Just think of the ugly ass goofy ball players that went to your high school.”

  A spark brightens up Wendy’s eyes. Storm continues on, realizing that the girl gets her drift. “Yeah, now look over there. Them are the same ugly goofy football jocks you went to school with. Underneath all them diamonds and money, they still the same corny ass niggas. You can run circles around them and cash the fuck out. They easy, like taking candy from a baby.”

  Wendy takes a deep breath of confidence. Storm’s speech has her motivated. She gives herself a once over to make sure she looks proper. She snatches her glass from the table and turns it up to her mouth. She guzzles it until it’s empty. She slams the glass onto the table and steps off without saying another word. Wendy walks away with her signature stank walk. In the hood, men equate the pigeon-toed, wagon dragging switch with good pussy.

  “Wendy!” Storm calls out. The girl turns around abruptly. “Make ’em pay like they weigh. Remember… These niggas loaded. Don’t shortchange yourself.”

  Wendy nods her head with a false sense of confidence. As she walks, she gets a boost of encouragement and it can be seen in her bop. Her walk gets even stanker.

  * * *

  Hours later, the hotel room is a mess. The nightstands all turned over, lamps knocked onto the floor, and the sheets are off the bed. The room looks like a hurricane has hit it. The wreck is the result of a sexual disaster. Fresh out of the gate, Wendy’s very first tricking job and she runs into this — a serious situation.

  It’s a great thing that Wendy isn’t afraid of heights because the six foot, six inch, husky man has her in the air, upside down. Her legs are wrapped around his neck, clasped at the ankles for security. He grips her butt tightly as he feasts away on her twat, sucking and slurping like a hog. She bear hugs him around the waist for her reinforcement while she blows him like a trumpet, or more like a long saxophone.

  The lack of condom is due to the extra few dollars he paid her. Foolishly she allowed the man to let him go raw. She gave him her price of two grand, and he asked how much would it cost to go bareback. She suggested an extra five hundred, but they settled at three.

  Right now she’s giving him the best mouth job he’s ever had. He’s not sure if the upside down effect is making the head that much more incredible or if her mouth is just that lethal. He refuses to allow her to out-mouth him. They seek to outdo each other. The more she pleases him, the more he pleases her. The blood rushing to her head from being upside down gives her a sexual rush that she’s never felt. She’s dizzy but still she continues on.

  She holds back the orgasm that she feels brewing. She realizes she shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but she can’t help it. She refuses to reach an orgasm before he does. She expected this to be easy money, but this man obviously had other plans. He’s making her work for the money. She’s already exploded four times to his none. She put it in her mind that this is business and she shouldn’t be enjoyin
g it, but he’s making that impossible. He’s fucked her so well that she almost feels bad that she’s charging him.

  She has to block out the pleasure just to be able to focus on pleasing him. She tries to ignore the pleasure that he’s bringing to her body and soul, but his long tongue lashing makes it hard to do. He makes her lose sight of her mission as he sucks on her love button. His nose teasing the rim of her back door drives her crazy.

  Before she knows it, she’s in the middle of busting another one, making the score five to zero. She freezes in motion as cum oozes out of her. The taste of her juices excites him and he sucks her opening like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. His jaws cave inward as he cleans her out.

  She regains her composure and gets back to work. She blows harder and harder on his rod with hopes of finishing him off but lockjaw takes place before she does so. She’s blown so hard that her lips are numb. She’s just about ready to throw in the towel when she feels his knees buckle, making her realize that she’s found his spot.

  She twirls her tongue around his tip, tongue kissing it while blowing it. She’s quite talented. She blows harder and harder, pecking at him like a woodpecker. She long necks him and teases him but to no avail. Suddenly she hits that spot again, causing him to stagger. He backpedals, holding her tightly.

  She continues on with determination. His feet cross and… timber. They tilt over and she holds onto his waist for dear life. They collapse onto the floor. She hops up before him and straddles herself over him in a riding position. Her pussy passes air as the last glob of her cum escapes it. It lands on his leg, melting through the skin like hot lava.

  She feels that she finally has him where she needs him, and she refuses to give him a minute to gather himself. She mounts herself on top of him, hand on his chest to control her intake of him. She inserts him and gets to bucking like a wild horse from the very first stroke. He wraps his hands around her waist, holding her tightly as she bounces up and down on him. He grips her waist tightly. His index fingers sink into the dimples that set over top of her cheeks, as if the dimples were made for this reason.

  She winds her hips like a belly dancer, teasing him. His eyes roll up into his head. She finds satisfaction in believing that he’s almost there. She bounces that much harder.

  “Got damn, girl,” he says as he tries to push her off him. He’s not ready for it to end. He feels he has yet to get his money worth. She slaps his hands off her as she continues to ride away. She’s come too far to let him get away now. “Damn,” he mumbles. “Shit,” he growls. “Got damn, girl,” he grunts before he uses all of his strength to throw her off of him.

  She lands on her stomach, and he crawls behind her. She attempts to crawl away from him. “Don’t run from me,” he says in a threatening tone. “If you run,” he says as he catches her by her braids. He yanks a handful of the braids and wraps them around his knuckles. He gives her one good yanking, snapping her head backward.

  With her head tilted, on all fours, she looks like a track star at the starting line, waiting for the sound of the starter pistol. With a clear shot, he drives himself straight into her with great precision and accuracy. The deep, impactful stroke lifts her off the floor. Upon penetration, he begins wailing on her, giving her all of him. He digs deep as he yanks her braids with each stroke. Wendy screams at the top of her lungs as he drops all the dick that he has into her. The sound of his balls clapping against her dripping wet pussy echoes throughout the room.

  She tries to hold in her screams, to keep him from knowing he’s hurting her, but the screams of pleasure override the screams of agony. He pounds and wails with no compassion, getting all of his money’s worth. With him still gripping a fistful of braids, he wraps his other arms up underneath her belly, so she can’t escape his wrath. He drives himself deeper into her. With short and fast rabbit strokes he bangs her walls up.

  Her pussy lips are already swollen and numb, and now he’s doing a demolition job on her walls as if he’s trying to knock them down. She tries to run from him, but he just holds her tighter. His body trembles, and she knows what is about to take place. She holds her breath and blocks out the pain to finish him off.

  As he tries to back away and delay his orgasm, she backs it up on him, ramming herself onto him. The sound of her cheeks clapping against him drowns out the sound of her moaning. Her huge ass flaps, one cheek at a time like a big and beautiful butterfly flying in the air. He grips her cheeks and spreads them wide enough to bust at the seam. With no mercy at all, he pounds, straight up the middle hitting, the g-spot relentlessly. The pleasure he brings to her g-spot is worth all the pain that he delivers. She holds her breath and endures the pain, hoping to get it over with.

  He growls like a ferocious lion before his whole body freezes. She hops off of him with expertise before he can ejaculate in her. In the past, she’s practiced this move so much that she’s become a professional at it. She prays that her vaginal sponge is working properly because she’s sure he’s left a trace in her. His pullout game definitely needs work.

  The sound of his toes popping makes her laugh. She giggles as she pushes him off of her. He falls over with no fight. He experiences temporary paralysis, just able to move his eyes. He gasps as he tries hard to get it together.

  Wendy sighs, just grateful that it’s finally over. She gets right up, walking over to her pile of clothes and belongings. Although this would be the perfect moment for cuddling after the great job he’s done on her, she realizes this is business. She also realizes that she has other money to get to and has wasted too much time with him already. Midway through the room, she notices the limp in her walk that tells her the man has done more damage than she realized. She looks down at her swollen lips, which seem to be pulsating and panting for air.

  She slips into her thong, and as she makes her way past him on her way to the bathroom, he speaks. “Where you going? That was round one. Round two is in about five minutes. Just let me get myself together.”

  Oh, hell no! she thinks to herself.

  “You only paid for one round. I was being nice by letting you go that long.”

  “You said one round. That was one round,” he says.

  “Yeah, and you paid for one round.”

  “OK, I will pay for two rounds. The money ain’t nothing,” he says arrogantly. “I got more money than I got dick. Long money, long dick.” He smiles. “Now let’s get on to round two.”

  Wendy is ready to submit, but for some reason, she doesn’t. Maybe it’s the pleasure he’s brought her that has her willing to put up with the abuse again. She knows she has a long night ahead of her. She realizes that she won’t be any good for anyone else tonight, so she has to up the price to make it all worth her while.

  “You gon’ have to dig a little deeper into them long pockets for a round two,” she says, hoping that he denies, so they can end on that note. “You take too fucking long to bust.” She stands with her hands on her hips, and her pigeon toes meeting.

  “I told you the money ain’t nothing. Name your price.” He looks her up and down, enjoying the view. Her ass in the tiny thong looks like a can of Hungry Jack biscuits that have busted open, fluffy dough, spilling over the sides. He gets a chubby in record breaking time. She looks down and sees his wood growing before her eyes.

  “Damn,” she mumbles to herself. “Back to work.”

  10

  Lucas Bowl Stadium

  The Next Night

  Super Bowl Sunday

  Without Mr. Antonelli, the girls would have been lucky to get even nosebleed seats; instead they have the best seats in the whole stadium. Storm and the crew sit in the comfort of the luxury box, right at the fifty-yard line. She’s not sure what it costed him to make it all possible, but what she does know is with her not spending a dime out of pocket, everything her girls score is all profit.

  In the luxury box with them are about sixty other people, not
including the bartenders, waiters and other staff. Most of the people have their eyes glued onto the game, but clearly a few of them have no real interest in it. They are merely here for the partying and the experience. Bottles of champagne flow in abundance and the smell of money is in the air.

  Storm heard from ear hustling that the cheapest ticket for the box today is eight grand and that is if you had a hookup or paid well in advance. The latecomers could have easily paid double and some. With that type of money spent on tickets, she’s sure there is a lot more where that came from, and she plans to get it all.

  Storm and the crew sit in the far end of the room, just enjoying the view of the city through the all glass panels. Her girls are sipping mixed drinks while she sips orange juice. She never drinks while working. Just as they are engaging in people watching and chitter chatter, a young woman approaches their table.

  They all stare at her wondering her purpose for being in their space. They look her over from head to toe and what they all see is “cheap.” Her jacked up weave, cheesy hooker looking outfit, and no-frills shoes make them all wonder how she even got in here. She opens her mouth to speak and her twisted, yellow teeth disgust them.

  “My Daddy wanna speak with y’all,” she says with evident attitude.

  Storm looks at her like she has three heads. “Excuse me?”

  She points across the room as an obese man is making his way toward them. He stands at about six foot two inches tall with a Barney cartoon character body, all hips. His aura has Storm irritated with him before he gets near her. His cocky swagger doesn’t fit the corny clothing that he has on.

  He’s overdoing it with the excess of bold labels. Printed Gucci sneakers, printed Gucci pants, printed hat and bulky jewelry make him look like the poster boy for a counterfeit clothing stand. Storm spots his Breitling watch with the overload of diamonds from across the room, fluttered face, fluttered bezel and even bracelet. His watch fits his outfit perfectly. So typical for a nigga who just started getting money, she thinks.