by Styles, T.
For over a month, Smooth had thought out and put together the latest caper they had just moments ago pulled off; and now to see it executed the way he had envisioned pleased him. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him so long to come up with a job and carry it out, but the fact that he grew up with and knew their last victim’s family gave him mixed emotions about choosing who he had. He and Big Sheed had a history that dated back to second grade when Big Sheed was just little dirty Sheed.
The two had met outside a house on Orchard Street while their mothers and Big Sheed’s father drank and played tonk, pitty-pat, and bid whist for hours. Although Smooth was from the New Projects on the Second Street side and Big Sheed was from the Old Projects on the Third Street side, the two befriended one another and often played together in the open field and tennis court on the side Big Sheed was from, before it was transformed into a park. They had remained friends up until junior high, when Big Sheed went off to Hubbard Middle School, while Smooth and those who lived in the Second Street Housing Projects had to attend Max-son Middle School on the other end of the city. By the time they were ready to attend Plainfield High School, Smooth had dropped out and took on the streets as a full-time job and educator around the low-income housing apartments, while Big Sheed embraced football and did the part-time hustle gig on the other side of the tracks where he resided.
A year later, they found themselves on the opposite of the battlefield after a war erupted over which side could sell what drug and for how much. In the midst of others from both sides getting hurt, whenever the two crossed paths during that time, they always stood down on the strength of their history. Two years later, when Smooth’s mother passed away from cancer, Big Sheed, along with his parents, attended the services. It wasn’t until ten years later, after Smooth was released from federal prison on drugs and gun charges, that the two had run into each other again. It was then Smooth had recognized the change in his childhood friend.
The respect the two once had for one another had diminished. Their encounter and conversation left Smooth with a bad taste in his mouth and a feeling that Big Sheed was trying to belittle him due to his newfound wealth and status in their city. That day, Smooth made a decision to stand clear of his childhood friend and vowed that if they ever crossed paths again, it would be on different terms.
That was five years ago. Since then, Smooth had also climbed the criminal ladder through drug selling and gambling, and added the robbing and murder game to his street résumé. During that time, he met Silk. He stared into the rearview mirror at himself and let out a light chuckle. His eyes were bloodshot from the seventy-two hours straight he had been up making sure his plan had been carried out properly, and his adrenaline was in overdrive from the rush he received from the caper and the high he felt from the coke he had been sniffing since he had jumped on Parkway South and headed toward Atlantic City.
He licked his thumb then began wiping the outer lining of his nostrils, noticing the slight dried-up residue of the white powdered substance on his nose. Seeing the drug still lingering caused him to let out a light chuckle. It made him think about him and Silk’s first encounter. He found it to be ironic that the very same place they had just pulled off their caper was in fact the same place the two of them had met. He couldn’t help but shake his head. Smooth pulled out a folded-up twenty-dollar bill from out of his shirt pocket. He opened the bill and scooped up a miniature mountain of the drug with his pinky nail and held it up to his right nostril. The cocaine instantly traveled straight to his brain as he turned back the pages of time to where the chapter of their relationship began.
Smooth lay stretched out on the plush king-sized bed with hands folded behind his head and a blank expression on his face. He stared up at the ceiling at nothing in particular while the young, dark-skinned version of Kim Kardashian gave him her best fellatio performance. He had given the Snickers bar–complexioned girl three crisp hundred-dollar bills to help take his mind off of what had just happened downstairs in the casino. Judging by the way she was handling his tool Smooth knew she intended to do more than just perform oral on him for the next hour. Normally, he would have been all into what was taking place and thought that some good head by a bad-ass chick would help and do the trick, but he was wrong. Smooth could not bring himself to enjoy or show any real interest in what she was doing to him. Meanwhile, in her mind, she figured once she started working her real magic she’d be able to take his mind off what had him in the daze he was now in. Confident she had picked a winner, she felt if she played her cards right, then the next time he frequented the Atlantic City area he’d remember her.
Normally she didn’t deal with or do business with black men because of all of the stories she had heard and the few past experiences she had over the years. Sad but true, the average black man she encountered was extremely cheap and always tried to run game when it came to what they wanted. They always expected more for less, when other races spent big, tipped bigger, and were always satisfied customers.
There was something different about the guy who she met, moments ago, downstairs in the lobby’s bar. He not only seemed to be a man who was no stranger to money and had plenty of it, but he also smelled like it. She had noticed the expensive-smelling fragrance he wore before he’d taken a seat next to her.
The scent was masculine yet subtle and had a freshness about it that was breathtaking. When she turned in the direction of the smell that drew her attention away from her Grey Goose and cranberry juice concoction, she saw the handsome man. Having been attracted to dark men over light as a teen, she couldn’t help but admire his deep, smooth chocolate skin tone and dark brown, almond-shaped eyes that were complimented by his thick eyebrows. His clean-shaved bald head glistened from the casino’s lights like a crystal ball that held the future inside. His neatly trimmed goatee was razor sharp, outlining his full-sized lips.
What stood out and impressed her most was the well-manicured hand that placed the Seven Stars Card on the bar’s counter. It was not so much the card that grabbed her attention, but his hand. Being the clean and neat freak she was, she appreciated a well-groomed man, not to mention one in shape, and she believed him to be just so. Unable to notice the twenty-five thousand–dollar Cartier watch he sported, she could see his muscles chiseled and sculpted in his forearm, and the nice-sized biceps and triceps that made up his arms protruding through the short-sleeved polo shirt. Her first thought was that he may have been a professional football player, but she immediately excused the theory as she studied him more.
She had been around enough people of all walks of life in her line of work to have acquired a good sense of character and one’s occupation. Something told her that if he were any type of professional, it pertained to the streets. A professional drug dealer or even gambler came to mind. She had been so focused on her analogy and evaluation of him that she hadn’t realized he caught her staring. He said something to her, but she didn’t notice until he had to repeat himself.
“Huh?” she asked, wide-eyed and dumbfounded.
“I said, do you like what you see?”
Embarrassed, she flashed him a smile. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied apologetically.
“Is that your answer?” He grinned.
“To what?” A confused look appeared on her face.
He shook his head and maintained his grin that revealed a deep right dimple. “This’ll be the third time asking.” He paused. “Do you like what you see?”
She cleared her throat and answered, “Yes.”
Her response came out childlike. She felt like a school girl being confronted by an elementary crush. She didn’t know why, but something about him made her nervous. Maybe it was his baritone voice that commanded attention, or the way he held eye contact with her while he spoke, as if he could see right through her. To her, he seemed to be someone who was used to getting his way, and that turned her on, but at the same time he intimidated her. The next words he spoke confirmed that he’d known from the ti
me he sat next to her why she was sitting at the bar alone.
“Me too,” he replied, then added, “So what are we going to do about it?”
The ball was in her court now, she thought. He was talking her language. This was what she did for a living for the past four and a half years of her twenty-two years of living, and she had become pretty good at it. To many, she would be considered a prostitute, hooker, or high-priced whore, but to her, she was a saleswoman or hustler.
“You tell me, baby. What do you wanna do?” she cooed in her most seductive tone as she leaned in closer so only he could hear. Within the past three years, after relocating from her hometown of Staten Island to Atlantic City to work the strip, boardwalk, and casinos, she had been escorted out, asked to leave the premises, and even jailed for what she was doing now. The last thing she wanted, after a non-profitable evening at one-something in the morning, was to catch a soliciting charge. Besides, above all, she enjoyed working the Bally’s Casino floor and didn’t want to jeopardize or mess that up; especially since she had been banned from most of the others—from the Borgata and Trump on down to the Taj Mahal and Caesars.
As if he had read her mind, he said, “Come on.” He retrieved his total rewards card, placed a twenty on the counter as a tip for a drink he never touched, then stood and walked off. Normally she would’ve discussed particulars and payment before agreeing to go anywhere with anyone, but the almost six foot tall man had forced her to change her game plan and make a sudden decision.
She checked the time. It was approaching midnight, and still she had no luck in the lobby. What the hell, she thought. Feeling his tip covered the both of their ordered drinks, she rose and followed.
As they made their way to the elevator, the nervous feeling she had resurfaced. She knew it had nothing to do with fear, but rather intimidation, and she couldn’t understand why she felt so powerless around him. Even his stride was one of an individual of confidence and strength. As she trailed behind him, she attempted to gather her thoughts.
She wondered how she was going to go about approaching the money matter and run down her rates to him. It was true she was attracted to him, but she had been attracted to others in the past, so there were no exceptions. Regardless of how she felt, everyone had paid one way or another, so she knew she was not getting on the elevator with him until payment arrangements were discussed. Just as they reached the elevator, her mind was made up. She was all too ready to spring into action and settle the business of price and payment, but when he stopped and smoothly spun around, what she saw silenced her.
“This should cover your time for the next hour,” he offered. Smooth slipped three crisp hundred-dollar bills he had fanned out into the palm of her hand. Her eyes told him he had given her more than enough for her borrowed time.
Now they were in his two-bedroom suite and she was earning her money. As she deep-throated his length with expertise, all Smooth could think about was how he felt like an idiot, while she wondered how much he had actually lost down in the casino. In her years of working the floors, she had learned the many different facial expressions of the biggest to smallest of winners and losers, and was convinced his face was one amongst the big losers.
Smooth stared down at her oddly as she gently stroked his manhood and massaged its helmet with her lips. Feeling his eyes on her, she peered up at him sexily, but to no avail. Her gesture went un-noticed as he shifted his gaze back up at the ceiling. She couldn’t believe the emotionless demeanor he was displaying. Since age fifteen, her dick-sucking skills had made the strongest of the strong weak in the knees. She had been proposed to and offered elaborate shopping sprees and lavish trips to anyplace in the world all because of her head game.
It was because of the reputation of her lips and tongue feeling as smooth as silk by many men that she had gotten her street moniker, so she was confident in her skills. But she believed her name was earned due to what she had between her inner thighs. She knew not all men were into getting head or enjoyed it the same, so she chalked it up as her mouth not being irresistible to all she came in contact with. She decided to change her approach, knowing there were other ways to please a man.
Smooth continued to beat himself up mentally behind his loss. He was almost oblivious to the girl he had paid to be in his presence. That is, until he felt warmth gripping around his dick. The feeling of being inside her drew Smooth’s attention to the girl. He couldn’t recall when she had undressed, but suddenly he knew she existed. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time. He grabbed hold of her petite waist and repositioned her on top of him as she caressed her Her-shey’s Kisses–shaped breasts while licking her erect nipples.
“Um,” Smooth heard her purr as she swayed her hips in a wavy motion.
“I knew this pussy would do the trick,” she cooed with a seductive facial expression.
Smooth let out a light chuckle at her words as he grabbed hold of her hips firmer and matched her movement.
“You like this pussy, baby?” she asked, placing her hands on his chest.
Smooth responded with a head nod.
“This pussy feel like silk, don’t it?” she leaned in closer and whispered in Smooth’s ear.
“Better,” he moaned. His hands were now palming her ass while spreading her cheeks.
Smooth began to thrust upward, wanting her to feel all of his length.
“You gonna make me cum,” she admitted as he continued to hit her spot.
“That’s what I want,” he shot back. As he spoke he could feel her body shudder and her juices dripping on him.
“Um, yes,” she said, pleased. “Your turn,” were her next words. She removed Smooth’s hands from her ass, lay flat on his chest, and then arched her back. She used her legs to spread his, and then commenced to going to work.
At that moment, the only thing on Smooth’s mind now was how her ass was clapping while she sexed him. She had managed to take his mind off his present predicament and focus on something else. He lay there while she rode his dick.
She rose up off his chest and increased her pace. Smooth could feel himself building up. Her pussy was so wet and hot; he felt as if he were sexing her raw. By now, her body was erect and her hands were back on Smooth’s chest. Her pace was now rabbit-like. Smooth’s body began to tingle and his legs stiffened. He grabbed hold of her waist and began bouncing her on top of him. His actions created another orgasm for her and caused them to explode together. Despite the coolness from the air conditioner in the room, they were both dripping with perspiration and out of breath.
“Damn, you serious,” Smooth was the first to say.
“So are you,” she replied, climbing off him.
“You want a water?” she then asked.
“Yeah,” Smooth replied, admiring her nakedness as she sashayed over to the table. Her ass was picture perfect, he thought.
“So, what’s your name, ma?” Smooth asked, realizing he had never bothered to ask before.
“They call me Silk,” she replied, handing him a bottled water.
“And yours, darling?” she retorted.
“Smooth.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I can see that.” Silk plopped in the chair closest to the king-sized bed with legs gaping open and took a sip of her water.
Smooth returned her smile. He took a quick scan of her. Minus what appeared to be an old scar near the mid part of her waist, her body was intact. He couldn’t find a stretch mark or ounce of fat on her. Although he considered himself to be a ladies’ man and wasn’t into buying sex, he was glad he had made the decision to pick Silk up and bring her back to his room. After the loss he had taken downstairs, she was just what the doctor ordered.
“How old are you?” Smooth asked.
“How old you want me to be, baby?” was her response. Her voice and look were childlike. Smooth knew she had misread her question.
“Nah, ma, I ain’t no perve or nothing. And I’m definitely not into that role-playin’ shit. I wa
s just askin’ ’cause ya body mad tight.”
Silk blushed. His compliment seemed genuine to her. Normally customers had paid her just to talk, and most of the time it was to talk dirty to them while they masturbated or performed oral on her. It had been a long time since she had actually held a normal conversation, especially after sex. By now she would’ve been freshening herself up, out the door, and on to the next; but something about Smooth delayed her from doing her norm.
“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.” She returned the compliment. “Looks-wise and in the bed,” she added.
“That’s what’s up.” He laughed lightly.
For a brief moment, silence lingered in the air. They both stole glances at one another, sipping on their bottled water, then stared at nothing in particular around the suite. Each was lost in their own thoughts, cautious and careful of their next words spoken, worried about what the other may think. Silk was the first to break the silence.
“So how much did you lose?”
Her question caught Smooth by surprise. “How you know I lost?” was his nonchalant reply.
“Well, how much did you win?” She switched up, knowing she was right the first time.
“You got a slick tongue, you know that?” Smooth remarked dryly.
“Sharp is more like it, baby, but I apologize if I’m askin’ too much. I’m not a talker like that anyway,” Silk offered, feeling she had overstepped her bounds. She looked at her wrist for a watch that wasn’t there, checking for the time. She stood up and began looking for her clothes.
She was sure she had been in the room for over an hour and her performance was satisfying, so it was time to go. She couldn’t believe how caught up in the moment she had gotten, but Smooth’s words had brought her back to reality.
Smooth realized his dry tone had put her on edge as he watched her scramble to find her belongings. “Ma, you good. You don’t have to leave,” Smooth told her.
