by Noire
Marshall pulled his pole outta me and got a rubber outta his little toy bag. He slid that shit on, then slowly inched himself back up in me until his nuts was almost in me too.
It felt like his dick was jerking around inside of me. Like he was fucking me from the inside out using the muscle in his pole to hit my spot. Marshall leaned over and caught one of my nipples in his mouth, and tongued it. I moved my body underneath him as I fucked up at him, my ass sweaty and my hair stuck to my face.
“Get it,” Marshall hollered, straddling my body with his legs. He had me pinned to the bed as he held my arms over my head and grinded into me until my clit started throbbing triple time and I let go, cumming real hard. Marshall nutted too, filling up the glove before falling on top of me, crashed out.
“Ahh,” he slobbered all over me. “Girl you oughta get paid for this shit. I swear you got your sex game on lock.”
After that I started getting invitations to key parties like I was a celebrity. Marshall was a shot caller who had mad influence in the industry, and everybody wanted to please him. If Marshall said you was in there, then your ass was really in there, and judging by all the invites I was collecting I learned that real fast. I’d be mingling in Diddy’s crib one night, and dancing at a party hosted by Jay-Z the next. I was photographed with all of the hottest people and my pictures were popping up in urban magazines like Sister 2 Sister and Vibe and The Source. “Brainiac” became a label I wore with pride and I was damn proud of myself too.
I guess I was smoking Marshall’s blunt and drilling his hole so good that he decided I should be rewarded for it. First he leased me a Sebring convertible, then he presented me with the keys to a phat apartment off Central Park and told me to make myself comfortable for as long as I wanted.
“I know you’re young and free, Saucy, and I ain’t trying to block you from doing your thing. All I ask is that you reserve one day a week for me only, and that you don’t bring no other niggas up in my joint.”
I was nodding so fast and reaching for them keys at the same time that I probably looked like a greedy little kid eyeing a bag full of candy. The apartment was his personal little fuck den, and while I knew he’d probably had a lot of other tricks living there before me, in my mind none of them counted. I was chilling in that bad boy now and getting into the kind of life I had craved, and that’s all that mattered.
Of course not everything I got myself into was good for me. The next time I hit Atlanta I almost got arrested. I had met the singer Chaperone through his cousin, and got invited to a fivestar hotel to party with him. When I got to Chaperone’s suite his entourage was thick and there were a few local honeys in there keeping them occupied. Alcohol was everywhere, and the room was filled with the smell of crippi and sour diesel.
Somebody passed me a L as I came through the door, and I was taken into one of the back rooms where Chaperone was waiting.
“Hey sexy,” he greeted me with a warm hug. We’d only met once before, at a party for The Game, but we’d talked a lot and promised to hook up the next time we were hanging out in the same city.
I took off my jacket and saw the look in his eyes as he checked out my Apple Bottom jeans and candy-apple corset top. My bright red thong was peeking out from the mounds of my ass, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me as I pranced around the room checking shit out.
He was laying back on the bed chilling, and when he puffed up a pillow next to him I took off my shoes and cuddled up by his side. We smoked two blunts and talked and laughed as we got lifted.
“You hungry?” he asked when the blunts were gone. I wasn’t hungry. I was high. Music was booming in the next room and I started winding my body on the bed, horizontally dancing to the beat.
“Nah. But I’m thirsty though.”
Chaperone got up and went to the bar. He fixed us both an Incredible Hulk and I sucked about five of the green drinks down like they was water.
He took my last glass and set it down on the end table next to his and stood over me. I smiled up at him as his fingers touched the front of my corset. He slipped his index finger between my squeezed-together breasts, then rubbed them both with his whole hand. I moaned as he zipped the corset down and my titties bounced out, free. They were incredibly firm. Big and light brown, with perfect dark brown nipples.
“You got it, baby,” he whispered, and clicked off the lamp. I heard his zipper come down and I reached for his dick and held it in my hand. It was warm and smooth. Not too thick, and not too thin. But definitely workable.
He rolled me over on my back, and I felt glass against my lips. He held his drink to my mouth as I gulped it down, little dribbles of it trickling down my chin, which he hungrily licked off.
We were on our sides, facing each other and fucking in a nice slow groove when I felt weight settling on the bed behind me. I tried to turn around, but Chaperone clutched me closer to him and pushed himself into me even harder.
“Got damn!” the guy behind me whispered as he pressed against my naked ass. I got the fuck off on getting served by two men at one time, so I reached behind me and felt for his stiffness, then slowly jerked it in my hand.
The three of us rocked like that for a minute. Chaperone was tonguing me while his boy held my leg up in the air and pressed his dick against my wet pussy that was already filled up with an even bigger dick. That shit felt good too. Chaperone was deep-fucking me while his boy stroked me from the back, rubbing his dick on my outer lips and sliding it up and down my ass crack.
I was moaning and grinding as Chaperone took over holding my leg up. He eased his dick out until just the head was in me, then took it all the way out and rubbed it on my clit as his boy slid into me from behind.
I was in heaven. Chap was jerking his dick on my clit and old boy was squeezing my ass and ramming me like a pro. I came hard, wetting us all up and both of them kept right on going trying to get me there again. We switched positions, throwing the spread off the bed and getting right on the sheets. I sucked one dick while I rode another one. I got a tittie fuck and a pussy fuck at the same time.
I don’t know exactly when shit changed, but it did. All of a sudden I wasn’t the center of attention no more. Them cats was rubbing their dicks together like they were mini-swords. They pushed me to the outer edge of the bed, and old boy got behind me and slid his dick up in me. I craned my neck back and saw that Chaperone had got behind him, and I guess he slid his dick up in him too!
Kay. I was drunk, yeah. Buzzed and lifted too. But stupid? Hail naw!
I jumped outta that bed like it was on fire.
“What the fuck!?!” I clicked on the light. I started screaming my head off and throwing shit around the room. “What the fuck?!?!”
“W-w-wait! Wait! Wait!” Chaperone jumped up and tried to shush me.
“Y’all niggas gay! Y’all niggas gay! Y’all niggas gay!”
Oh I was loud as hell. Chaperone tried to grab me and I swung on his ass. Our naked bodies felt nasty pressed up on each other now, and I coulda sworn I smelled shit coming off his dick. He held my wrists and I head-butted that nigga and tried to knee his swinging balls.
Old boy was the smart one. He let Chaperone tussle with me while he pulled on his pants. By the time his boys bust in the room he was the only one dressed.
“These niggas is gay!” I screamed, pointing at Chaperone. His boys was trying to shut my naked ass up, but the chicks in the joint was looking at the big star and wrinkling up their faces saying ewww!
One of Chap’s crew tried to grab my arm. I backhanded his ass and lunged for my clothes. At first they acted like they wasn’t gone let me out the room, but all the girls started beefing and bitching saying get the fuck offa her! and the next thing I knew, I was out.
Out, but not down. I ran down the hall banging on doors as I put on my shit. I bitched and screamed like somebody was trying to kill me. “Chaperone is gay! That motherfuckin’ Chaperone is gay!”
Security was waiting for me when I got off the
elevator. They took me in a small office and threatened to call the cops and have them charge me with public intoxication and disturbing the peace.
“Y’all go ’head,” I slurred. “Call them motherfuckers and tell ’em I’m drunk. ’Cause soon as they get here I’ma tell ’em y’all let that gay-ass singer Chaperone push drugs and rape women up there in your suites. Yeah, call the motherfuckin’ cops! I’ll call them bitches for ya!”
They escorted my ass off the premises and I caught a taxi back to my hotel and fell in the bed and slept my high off. When I got up the next morning I thought I’d dreamt the whole thing. But hell no. I got a huge delivery of flowers from that asshole and a check for two thousand. Hush money. It was real and it had happened, and I was willing to bet I wasn’t the first chick Chaperone had tried to flip in his ménage à trois. I didn’t give a damn about him being gay. For all I cared, them patty-cake, fruit-loop niggas coulda drilled each other all night long, just as long as they left me out of it.
Chapter 8
A FEW MONTHS later I was partying in Miami when I got a call from Mackie P. He wanted me to do a feature shoot for KING magazine. “You really getting yourself noticed, baby girl! My man at KING is getting mad requests for you. We got a print feature worked out for you, and my man’s photographer wants to shoot you during the Urban Music Awards show. On the beach. In Antigua!”
“For real? Stop fuckin’ lying!”
“It’s real baby. Plus, we hooked up a video shoot for you at the same time. All of this is promotion for Hawk and Reem’s new jawn, Birthday Cake. If you ain’t got a passport you need to hurry up and get one.”
I’d already done cover spots for XXL and Black Men, but KING was in my crosshairs and I wanted to do that shoot real bad. But not only did I not have a passport, I didn’t even have a birth certificate. Aunt Ruthie had never given me a copy of it, and after Uncle Swag got killed I didn’t wanna ask her for shit. When I got back to my crib I called Tai and told her about the photo and video shoot.
“You can get a birth certificate real easy, Saucy. You have a Social Security card, right? All you need to do is go down to Worth Street, or apply for one online.”
I found out that Tai was right and that it would be a simple enough process, but the day I got it and was actually holding it in my hands, my spirits sank down lower than they’d been in a long time. Here I was commanding crazy attention and hooking rich, powerful men like a mutha, and still it wasn’t enough. I was dressing in the sexiest clothes, and getting high and doing more fly shit than I had ever dreamed of doing. I was meeting more hot people than I ever thought possible. But none of that shit mattered as I stood there reading that piece of paper over and over again trying to figure out exactly who the hell I was. “Date: November 5, 1987 Time: 12:49 AM Status: Single Live Birth. Sex: Female. Name: Saucy Sarita Robinson. Mother’s Maiden Name: Kimichi Min Ju, age 24. Father’s Name: David Maurice Robinson, age 32.”
Nothing there meant shit to me. Neither one of the strangers who had gotten together to create me had stuck with me long enough to make a difference in my life, but still. For the first time since my cousin Paris died and I sat in that school nurse’s office and told her and Mrs. Gladman that King was licking on my pussy every night, I actually wanted to see my mother.
I had just finished getting my nails done at a salon in Harlem that next Saturday when I walked outside and saw Akbar. He had just gotten out of jail again and he was looking good.
“Man, you gotta stay your ass up outta them cells, boo,” I told him, kissing him on the cheek. He just laughed.
“Saucy, you a pretty sight for these sore eyes, baby. I seen you in all them videos too. You doing real good for yourself.”
“I’m trying,” I said.
We sat in his car and drank a couple of Coronas and Akbar offered me some boat.
“Nah,” I said, pushing it away. “The last time I fucked with angel dust something told me to go swimming in the Hudson River. And a bitch can’t even swim. I can’t fuck with that.”
Akbar was rolling in his brother’s bonnie, and on an impulse I asked him to take me down on 109th Street.
“Who you know over here?” he asked. I had him creeping slow as I peered in doorways and down alleys.
“Somebody,” I said, my eyes searching for a skinny, pale-looking female with long black hair. We drove around for a good fifteen minutes before I spotted her. She was coming out of a liquor store with a brown paper bag in her hand.
“Slow down!” I told Akbar. He followed my gaze to Kimichi, but he didn’t say nothing. We crept along beside her for a full block before I made a move. I waited until she had crossed the street and was heading for a corner store, then I called her name.
“Kimichi!”
She turned around, and when I saw her from the front I was stunned. She looked diseased. Like something rotten was eating through her body and chewing the flesh off of her.
“Seung Cee?”
She took a few steps toward the car and I swear to God I started to tell Akbar to step on the gas and jet down the block. I should have.
“Seung Cee? My baby? Is this you?”
I remembered hating the way she confused her tenses and messed up her words. I had been so embarrassed by her when I was a kid. I was still embarrassed by her now. She stumbled over to the car and I saw the bottle of cheap wine she was clutching in her hand.
“Seung Cee! Whrere you have been? Whry you not come to me?”
“Hi, Ma,” I said, staring at her shoes. They were a pair of men’s Stacy Adams. Black. Wingtips.
“Let me see you!” She reached in the car and pulled on my arm. “I wrant to see my baby! I wrant to see my Seung Cee!”
I got out the car and stood there in front of her looking like a million bucks. Her clothes were just a bunch of moldy rags. She tried to hug me and she stank like pee-pee and a rancid pussy. People passed by coming and going, some of them walking a wide path around her.
“You look wrich, Seung Cee. Are you wrich?”
I shook my head, embarrassed to even be seen talking to her. “I ain’t rich, Ma. I’m just living.”
“Me too,” she said. She twisted the cap off her Wild Irish Rose and gulped from the bottle. “I on 130th Street now. I sick, Saucy. I need to see dock-tor. You take me, yes?”
She wanted to go across town and Akbar agreed to take her even though I knew he probably didn’t want her stinking up his brother’s sweet ride. She made me climb in the back seat with her, and I held my breath as she held my hand.
“Seung Cee,” she smiled as the car sped down the streets. Her teeth were brown and looked soft and gooey. I could tell she was back on the needle and that pissed me off. The needle was what had started all this in the first damn place. She was the one who had given me my very first hit of poison, and I felt like I’d been getting high ever since.
“Seung Cee, you father is bewry pwoud of you.”
I didn’t answer her. I was too busy holding my breath.
“Wrait!” she demanded. We’d gone a few blocks, but we were nowhere near across town. “Tell he stop!”
Akbar pulled over to the curb and both of us looked at her.
“Here,” she said, passing me her bottle. “I wrant to pee.”
I couldn’t believe what the hell I was hearing. She opened the car door and staggered over to the curb. I felt sick when she pulled her raggedy pants down and squatted, her nasty white ass-crack showing.
I reached over and let her bottle hang out the window in my hand. I turned that shit over and let the wine flow into the street. Then I put the bottle between my legs and tapped Akbar on his shoulder and nodded.
“Let’s move, baby.”
Akbar nodded back, and stepped on the gas. I closed the car door as we pulled off, and we left my mother right there where she was. Squatting in the gutter, her piss running in the street with her wine.
Seeing Kimichi did something to me. I made Akbar drive me to a liquor store a couple
of blocks away and proceeded to get lit. I got high for days, cooking yay and smoking Ls until my throat felt burnt. Drinking and busting up in parties, shutting them shits down. I started mad fights, and one day I passed out on the set after staying up all night drinking until I couldn’t see. Niggas laughed at me, but somebody was cool enough to drag me into an office and let me sleep it off. Yeah, I missed out on the pay, but missing the glory of it bothered me even more.
A few weeks later I went to Hudson Street and applied for an expedited passport. The record label was paying to fly me to Antigua of course, but I had blown a big hunk of cheddar on clothes and jewelry for the trip.
“And don’t be sneaking no weed out the country,” Tai said. She had come over to Marshall’s apartment and was baking a chocolate cake while I packed.
“Shut up,” I said. “And come sit on this damn suitcase so I can close it.”
“I’m serious, Saucy. We all like to get our buzz on, but I hear you been doing triple damage lately.”
I moved out the way as she plopped her ass down on top of my suitcase and I swear to God I heard that poor bag groan.
“Where you hear that from? I’m a grown-ass woman. Who been all up in my damn business and clocking my shit?”
“Calm your ass down,” Tai said. She reached between her big thighs and zipped my suitcase, her fat fingers looking like sausages as she tucked in the items that were bulging from the sides. “Ain’t nobody trying to get all up in your business. But if you worried about it then maybe you need to stop putting it out in the streets so thick.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Tai?”
“People are talking about you, Saucy! All the drinking and party-crashing. How about all that trouble you started with Chaperone in Hotlanta? You think grimy news don’t travel from Georgia to New York?”
“Tai that’s old! Plus them two niggas was fuckin! I ain’t lying. They was bumping each other off with me right there in the bed.”
