Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick

by Nisa Santiago

  “Oh shit! Ain’t that Cross and his friends over there?” Mesha asked.

  Hearing Cross’s name made Apple’s heart beat rapidly. She looked around and saw him posted up by his polished black Range Rover, encircled by his bejeweled crew of thugs.

  The men came in three flashy trucks, all chromed out with tinted windows and blaring systems. They were the eye-candy in the parking lot, as ladies surrounded the Harlem crew, who had liquor and weed. They joked around and mingled with their admirers like they were celebrities themselves.

  “C’mon, let’s go over there and say what’s up. Shit, maybe we can catch a ride back to the block,” Mesha suggested.

  Apple was a bit nervous. Seeing Cross so close made her heart flutter. Cross stood tall and fine in a brown Völkl jacket, crisp denim MEK jeans, and sporting a pair of white Uptowns, his jewelry shining nicely. He had a cup of liquor in his hand and was conversing with one of his homies.

  “C’mon, Apple, let’s see what’s up,” Mesha called out.

  Apple followed behind Mesha and Ayesha. When they got close, Mesha smiled, recognizing a couple of faces. She hollered, “What up, Trey? What up, Dink?”

  “Mesha, what’s good?” Dink replied with a smile.

  “Y’all tell me. I wanna get my drink on too.”

  “Ain’t you too young?” Trey said.

  “Nigga, you only nineteen, two years older than me. Anyways, where my cup at?”

  Trey and Dink laughed.

  “You a wild girl, Mesha,” Dink responded.

  Trey hollered, “Ayesha, what’s up?”

  “Chillin’.”

  Trey and Dink looked over at Apple, and the lust in their eyes said it all.

  “Yo, that ain’t Kola, right? She too quiet right now,” Dink said.

  “You know her twin, Apple?” Mesha replied.

  “Yeah, I see her around. Why you so quiet, ma?” Dink asked with coolness to his voice.

  “’Cause I’m her,” Apple replied casually.

  Dink laughed. “Damn! You fine like your sister. But all y’all is lookin’ so fuckin’ right. Damn, let me get that ass, Mesha.”

  Mesha responded with, “Let me get a cup.”

  The men laughed, and Dink quickly poured Mesha a shot of Henny.

  “You wanna mix that wit’ somethin’, ma?” Trey asked.

  Mesha sucked her teeth, looked at them like they were crazy, and downed the liquor like the best of them. In her youth she was showing off. She wanted attention, and she got it. Trey and Dink were quickly impressed.

  “Y’all want a shot too?” Dink asked.

  Ayesha answered yes and was already reaching for her cup, but Apple was too busy staring at Cross, who stood just a few feet away from her.

  “Yo, Apple, you want some of this?” Dink raised the half empty bottle of Hennessy.

  “Yeah, I’m down.”

  Dink smiled while pouring her a shot.

  Following behind her girls, Apple took it to the head. The liquor left a burning sensation down her throat, as it trickled easily into her system.

  Dink poured the three girls another shot, which they downed quickly as well.

  It was getting late, and the police started forcing everyone out of the parking lot. They even made arrests for disorderly conduct and other illegal activities that came into play after the concert ended.

  Apple, Ayesha, and Mesha were having a good time with Dink and Trey, while Cross mingled with a few ladies. That made Apple jealous, but she kept her cool and continued drinking and chilling with her friends. Apple stared at the bitches holding Cross’s attention and knew she was ten times better-looking than any of them. She bit her tongue, wanting to snatch every bitch away from her man. In her mind, he was hers.

  When Cross finally headed in their direction, Apple immediately got excited. He strode their way with a cup in his hand, his eyes focused on the group. He walked up to Dink and Trey, while Apple stood right next to them, and said, “Yo, we ’bout to be out. Five-O’s actin’ up out here and shit.”

  “A’ight,” Trey said.

  Cross looked at Apple and her friends. “Y’all ridin’ wit’ us?”

  “Of course,” Mesha chimed.

  Apple asked Cross, “Why? You drivin’?”

  Cross chuckled. “You want me to?”

  “It’s whateva. I’ll ride wit’ you.”

  Cross smiled and then uttered, “You’re cute.”

  Apple couldn’t contain her smile. He had spoken to her, and it made Summer Jam the best for her. She wanted to follow Cross and ride with him, but his Range was already packed with his people and a few girls. Apple hated it, but she was fortunate to get a ride back with Trey and Dink in their Escalade that was sitting on 22-inch chrome rims.

  As they jumped on the New Jersey Turnpike, following behind Cross, the liquor continued to flow. Soon, the men became a little horny and frisky. Dink was behind the wheel, with Apple riding shotgun.

  Trey started to feel up Ayesha’s smooth thighs in the backseat as she sat in the middle. Feeling tipsy, Ayesha and Mesha giggled and laughed, and before long, Trey had unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard dick to impress the girls. Ayesha leaned in for the kill and slowly began sucking his dick while the truck did seventy miles per hour on the freeway.

  “Ayesha is buggin’,” Mesha slurred.

  “Damn, nigga! I should’ve let you drive,” Dink uttered, glancing at the action from his rearview mirror.

  Apple just shook her head, knowing she wasn’t about to tag along with Ayesha. When Dink looked at her with a hint in his eyes, she gave him the screw face and said, “I ain’t my homegirl or my sister!”

  With a look of disappointment, Dink replied, “Then maybe ya ass need to ride in the backseat and ya girl need to be up front.”

  “Whateva,” Apple shot back.

  Ayesha continued to suck Trey’s dick, feeling the hard flesh going in and out of her mouth.

  With his hand tangled in her hair, Trey moaned and closed his eyes, loving the way her glossy lips were taking care of him.

  Mesha felt that wild urge between her thighs too. Liquor always made her horny, and the four cups of Henny that she’d downed had her feeling like she was ready to be a porn star—despite having a man at home.

  “Yo, y’all wanna get a room?” Dink mentioned.

  Dink was horny and wanted in on the action too. Ayesha and Mesha looked down for whatever, so he was ready to take full advantage of the young, liquored-up teens and fuck them till dawn came.

  “Y’all do whateva. Just take me home,” Apple stated.

  “Yo, ma, why you actin’ like that?” Dink asked.

  “’Cause I’m tired, a’ight?” Apple was annoyed and slightly embarrassed by the hood-rat behavior of Ayesha.

  “Shit, you may look like your sister, but you ain’t fuckin’ fun like her. I mean, is ya pussy gold-plated?” Dink smirked.

  Apple cut her eyes at him. “You’ll never find out.”

  Dink laughed. “Whateva!”

  A half-hour later, the truck pulled up to the projects, and Apple jumped out, ready to depart ways with everyone. She looked at her friends and asked, “Y’all comin’?”

  Ayesha and Mesha hesitated. Trey had his hand between Ayesha’s thighs, fingering her pussy, and Mesha was ready to jump in the front seat and keep Dink company.

  “Nah, ma, they wanna have a good time tonight,” Dink replied.

  “A’ight, whatever,” Apple said.

  Mesha jumped into the front seat with Dink, and before the truck pulled off, she hollered out the window, “Call me, girl!”

  Apple just kept walking into her building. When she reached the elevator, she ran into Supreme coming out of the stairway. He was alone and eyed Apple with a stare that sent chills down her spine.

  “You gettin’ my money, right?” he asked.

  “I got ya money,” Apple snapped back with attitude.

  Supreme smiled. “Just checkin’ up on you, but you
lookin’ nice tonight. I like that.”

  When he reached out to gently rub the small of her back, Apple moved away from him. The elevator doors opened, and she quickly got in. As the doors closed, she stood there with Supreme watching her from the lobby with an eerie smile. She shook her head and knew he might be a problem soon.

  CHAPTER 6

  Kola got into the backseat of the waiting cab, wearing a brown tight-fitting khaki dress and a pair of stilettos. She oozed with sex appeal and beauty, with all her curves showing perfectly. The men on the corner couldn’t take their eyes off of her as they watched her get in the cab.

  “Damn!” one male shouted.

  Kola smiled, knowing she had those thirsty-ass wannabes drooling. They could look, but they couldn’t touch.

  It was late night, with midnight creeping up on the hour, and Kola had business to attend to. She was off to a strip club in Brooklyn to check out a dancer that was supposed to be so sexy and fine, she was packing the club to capacity any night she worked.

  Kola was willing to travel into Brooklyn alone and talk business. She was from the streets and knew how to handle herself very well. Mike-Mike, usually her backup, was making an out-of-town run for Cross, but Kola felt secure enough to travel alone. She was used to it. Her name was known in Harlem, and nobody fucked with her. She was an uptown girl—a Harlem chick—and her name had weight because of the dudes she rolled with. But Brooklyn was a different story. Out there, she was just an average pretty bitch with an attitude.

  She told the driver, “Take me to Sunset Park.”

  Without traffic, it was a thirty-minute drive through any of the bridges or tunnels that traveled into Brooklyn. Once Kola reached her destination, she handed the driver a crisp hundred-dollar bill to cover the fifty-dollar fare, leaving a generous tip.

  The strip club, located off Fourth Avenue on a back street in Brooklyn, was in a second-floor loft, with tight security at the entrance. Kola strutted to the place in all her glory, looking twice her age and feeling confident about the night.

  She approached the two beefy security guards and asked, “What’s the cover charge?”

  The men looked at her, knowing she was a new face.

  “You dancing?” one of them asked.

  “Why you askin’?”

  “Tip in is twenty-five,” the other stated.

  Kola reached into her bag and gave the man two twenties. “You can keep that,” she said with a smirk.

  “Oh, you a baller, huh?”

  “I get mines.”

  He chuckled and said, “A’ight, just watch your back out here.”

  Kola smiled as he waved the wand across her body and searched through her purse for any illegal weapons.

  When she was cleared, he said, “You good. Just go upstairs, second floor.”

  Kola walked up the stairway in her steep heels and entered the dimmed room with rap music blaring and a crowd of patrons. She was impressed. The loft was huge and full of life, with a doorway that exited out into an open, elevated area that overlooked Brooklyn.

  The raised stage had two naked big-booty strippers on it working hard for their dollars and was surrounded by men tossing money, that thirsty look on their faces. And the strippers had no shame in their game. They were working hard for their money.

  Kola needed a drink. She looked around. The crowd and strippers were predominantly black, with a sprinkling of Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and whites.

  One dude gently grabbed her by the arm and asked, “You dancing, love? I never saw you here before.”

  Kola looked at him and wasn’t impressed. She’d been feeling men watching her the minute she’d stepped into the place, but this one looked like he needed to pay to get pussy. Black and overweight, he had no style to him with his shapeless jeans and scruffy appearance, and his breath reeked. He had a Heineken in his hand and gazed at Kola as if longing for what he couldn’t have.

  “No, thank you,” she politely replied, quickly moving herself away from him and walking closer to the stage.

  Kola was looking around for a girl named Chyna Doll, who a male friend had put her up on. He let it be known to her that Chyna Doll was young and down for whatever, a freak, and a raving beauty with looks that many would kill for.

  “Yo, Kola, this chick is off the hook, fo’ real,” the young kid had told her. “I’m telling you, she sucked my dick like gravity was in her mouth.”

  Kola needed more than a freak. She needed an elite stable of young hoes like herself down for whatever. She had planned on putting together an event—a sex party where people would pay admission. With the right girls who had good pussy and great head game, the men she invited would pay to play, and Kola needed the best.

  She had talked to Kandy a few days ago, convincing her to try out one of her parties, and Kandy was down, especially after the dick-down she got from Mike-Mike. So Kola was after the next female to fill her stable of professionals. She wanted the cream of the crop because she was going to hit muthafuckas with membership fees to join her party. She was about her money and business, and if you didn’t know how to work what your momma gave you, then she couldn’t use you.

  Kola looked around the room and observed every naked or scantily clad ho in the place. Some were really nice and sexy with their swag, but a few girls struck her as washed up. She moved to the stage and took a seat in one of the soft leather chairs. She watched a big-booty girl clap her butt cheeks together and then bend over to expose her goodies. She began tipping the stripper with a few dollar bills.

  The place was buzzing with activity from corner to corner—lap dances, wall dances, a lot of bumping and grinding, and tricks disappearing into the VIP rooms with their stripper of choice for the night.

  Kola noticed a tall beauty with an erotic aura stepping out of the dressing room. Scantily clad in a black baby doll dress that had sheer mesh with a sequined lace hem, cut-out sides, and twin straps, her rich caramel skin seemed to glow with sexiness. Her knee-high leather stilettos seemed to make her almost touch the sky, and her two long pigtails gave her that naughty-schoolgirl look.

  Kola kept her eyes fixated on the girl during her long stride from the dressing room to the stage. She walked with confidence, her exotic, chinky eyes scanning the crowd for potential tricks for the night. Kola already liked her style because the girl portrayed herself as that bitch in the room.

  Kola knew that had to be Chyna Doll, because everything about her screamed “confident.” She watched the girl work the stage to Usher’s “There Goes My Baby.” She had a presence about her that made almost every eye in the room stay glued on her.

  The tips started flowing her way, but Kola was outdoing the guys by spreading money all over the dancer like a heavy rainfall. Kola watched the stripper move across the stage with style and admired the way she swung herself around the pole with steadiness like a cat.

  “What’s your name?” Kola asked the woman as she did a split in front of her and leaned her body forward, showing the crowd just how flexible she was.

  “Chyna Doll,” she answered, never missing a beat in her performance.

  The men clapped with excitement, their eyes dancing all over her body. The crowd of onlookers grew thicker around the stage as Chyna Doll brought out her bag of goodies and prepared to perform something naughty. She stripped down until she was butt naked, showing the crowd her curves.

  Chyna clutched an eight-inch dildo the color of night. Sprawled out on her back, she spread her legs and rammed the thick tool deep into her pussy and fucked herself, making the men yell out. She then released the dildo from her grip and allowed the muscles in her pussy to take over, making the dildo move with the contraction of her vagina. She played with her breasts, pinched her nipples, and allowed the action to go on for a few minutes.

  “Oh my God! Shit, girl, I got next,” one onlooker joked.

  The crowd laughed over the loud music. The DJ had switched up Usher for a more appropriate song—2 Live Crew’s “Pop That
Coochie.”

  Chyna Doll rolled over on her stomach, the thick, long dildo still inside her, and continued her lewd act without missing a step. She moaned and pressed her ample breasts against the stage, her legs spread wide, pretending she was getting fucked from behind. She took hold of the love tool once more and fucked herself the way she loved to get fucked—fast and rough. Chyna Doll’s flexibility amazed everyone, twisting herself into a pretzel and working the plastic dick into her like it was the real thing.

  Kola kept the money flowing. Though she had a hundred dollars in singles, she was so impressed, she even tossed out a few twenties. Chyna Doll smiled and winked at Kola.

  After the act with the dildo, Chyna sprayed whipped cream across her breasts and lit herself on fire. Both erotic and dangerous at the same time, it was a sight to see. It was something new to the pack and left everyone wide-eyed. The fire raged for a short while, and then she blew it out.

  By this time the stage was littered with money, small and big bills. Chyna was making her ends and causing some jealousy among her coworkers. Her wild act lasted for the next ten minutes, and when she was done, she scooped up her money into one pile. It took her a moment to count it and stash everything in her bag. Still naked, she strutted off the stage, needing to regroup for a moment.

  Kola moved quickly in her direction. She tapped Chyna Doll on the shoulder and made it be known that she wanted a VIP session with her.

  Chyna Doll smiled and then made a beeline for one of the rooms. She didn’t care. Men or women, money was money, no matter where it came from, and she could regroup anytime.

  Kola followed Chyna Doll into one of the VIP rooms and was impressed with her body from head to toe. The woman was so sexy, Kola wanted a taste of her.

  “What you lookin’ for?” Chyna Doll asked.

  “Your time,” Kola replied.

  Kola passed Chyna a C-note, and she took the cash and put it in a safe place. Kola took a seat on the mattress and stared at the sexy, long-legged diva with a devious smile.

  Chyna straddled Kola, wrapped her arms around her like Saran Wrap, and slowly began grinding into the young girl’s lap. “You like that?” she asked seductively.