Lisa frowned. "That ain't even right," she muttered.
A car horn brought Lalana back to reality. She was going nowhere fast in all the Hollywood traffic as she struggled toward the record company. If she didn't make it by 5, Lalana would have to forfeit her prize. She would sooner abandon her car in the middle of the busy street and hop along on one leg than she let that happen. The light turned green. Lalana sunk her foot onto the accelerator.
Lalana was petite, but curvy in all the places that mattered most. Lisa and Tina had always been envious of Lalana's natural beauty. Where they had to pile on make-up to hide flaws, Lalana's skin looked close to perfection with nothing more than a little pressed powder for shine control. Her full lips looked sexy with just a hint of gloss.
Lisa was thicker than Lalana, with skin the color of cornbread and a face marred by craters from years of acne. And while Tina and Lalana shared the same skin color, all similarities ended there. Where Lalana was top heavy, Tina could barely fill out her favorite tops without a padded bra.
Lalana occasionally highlighted her oval-shaped eyes with earthy tones, as she had today. Her thick and extra-long lashes were often mistaken for fakes. She was a natural beauty; but her good looks couldn't seem to help in at least one department.
Lalana's luck with men went from bad to worse with each dead-end relationship she found herself in. Kenneth was the latest in a string of losers Lalana was anxious to forget. She was admittedly a magnet for unsavory characters. Lalana blamed it on years of watching her single mother struggle to break the family's curse of going for the wrong men.
Lalana came from a long line of single women who never married. From her mother's great-grandmother on down, not one woman ever had a husband - at, least not one of her own.
Lalana swore off relationships and men for a while, pursuing instead intensive soul-searching. But months with no men and no sex only served to leave her horny as hell, trying desperately to force incessant thoughts of hot, steamy sex out of her mind.
Lalana turned into Capitol Records' parking lot with 10 minutes to spare. She was awestruck as she stepped into the building's crisp cool air. Two massive, life-sized cardboard cutouts of MC ROC stood near a staircase. Gold and Platinum albums lined the walls. Lalana listened to her heels click-clack on the marble floor as she speed-walked to the large information desk made of smoked glass.
"Hi, my name is Lalana George, I'm here to see um, Jennifer..." Lalana couldn't believe she was drawing a blank. In her excitement, she never wrote down Jennifer's last name. Warm embarrassment washed over her.
"Aaahh, Jennifer Price?" the young woman suggested.
"Yes!" Lalana answered.
"Just a moment." A button on the switchboard was pushed. As the receptionist made a call, Lalana glanced around the sleek lobby. It was tastefully done in navy and chocolate, plush leather chairs, and a massive flat-screen TV centered on the wall.
"Yes, ma'am," Lalana heard the receptionist say. "Ms. Price will be out in a second," she told Lalana. "Would you like something to drink while you wait?"
"Oh no," Lalana shook her head. "I'm fine." She walked toward the sitting area of the lobby as a door near the desk opened. A tall and thin redhead with pointed features appeared. The woman walked toward Lalana.
"You must be Lalana George." The smiling woman extended a slender hand.
"Yes, I am," Lalana said, taking the hand and shaking too hard. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said.
"No problem," the woman replied. "I'm Jennifer. Nice to meet you! Why don't we go back to my office so we can talk in private?"
Lalana followed Jennifer into a small office equally as impressive as the lobby. "Have a seat," Jennifer said.
For the next 30 minutes, Lalana received instructions and signed papers about confidentiality rules. Some forms even outlined the company's right to Lalana's likeness, voice and video for future broadcasting in conjunction with MC RO. Lalana excitedly signed or initialed lines Jennifer pointed to without reading a thing.
With all the paperwork in order, Jennifer took a phone call.
"Oh yes, I know," Jennifer said into the headset, leaning back in her chair. The door suddenly swung open and in walked three men wearing jeans. Each was at least six feet tall. The men's pants hung almost a foot below their waists. Gleaming white T-shirts caused Lalana to squint. And their jewelry! Each man seemed to have been dipped in a pot of Iced-out jewelry to perfectly demonstrate their levels of success.
From designer sneakers to neatly lined haircuts, everything about them said these men were true poster-boys for everything hip-hop. They stood looking around without uttering a word. Moments later, there he was; striding into Jennifer's office like he owned the place. Lalana's mouth opened wider with each step of MC ROC's Air Jordans. It felt like an honor just to breathe in the same air he was breathing out.
Lalana's eyes traveled slowly from the leather of his sneakers up his dark jeans to a massive, blinged-out belt buckle. A Presidential Rolex wrapped around one wrist while a diamond bracelet - at least six inches wide - sparkled on the other. Both arms were covered in colorful tattoos stretching up to bulging biceps.
The white tank top MC ROC wore did little to hide his washboard stomach. A diamond-encrusted R hanging from a platinum link chain rested in the center of it. He was absolutely stunning.
When Lalana's eyes met his, she noticed his pink glistening tongue glide across his lips as he smiled at her. She felt her heart melt and her panties go totally wet. Lalana wondered if those lips tasted as good as they looked. She crossed and uncrossed her legs in a feeble attempt at composure.
"'Sup," he said in her direction with a slight nod of his head.
Lalana couldn't find her voice. Jennifer quickly returned the phone to its cradle without saying goodbye and hopped up from her chair.
"Hey ROC," she greeted nervously. "This here is Lalana. She's the winner."
Lalana knew MC ROC was fine; but her eyes stood witness that not a single picture - even those carefully airbrushed for magazine spreads - ever did him justice. He was stop-and-stare gorgeous. When his gazed turned back to her, Lalana managed to ease up from her chair and stand.
"Hi, um, I'm Lalana," she muttered, realizing she'd simply repeated what Jennifer had already said.
A movie-star smile stretched across MC ROC's handsome face. He nodded again. "That's what's up," he said.
His sexy, hooded bedroom eyes fell to her legs, then crawled north over her entire body. He sucked his teeth like a piece of steak was lodged between them as he settled on her breasts; then again said, "That's whassup for real," before turning to his entourage, offering a slight nod, and returning his attention to Lalana.
The guys bumped fists with each other. One turned to ROC: "She tight, Dawg!"
Lalana giggled in spite of herself.
MC ROC turned and took a step toward the door. Lalana's heart sank. But the rapper turned to look at her again: "Wassup Shorty, you rollin' wit' me, right?"
Before anyone could ask for clarification, Lalana grabbed her purse and stumbled in an effort to catch up with him. If only he knew, she thought with a smile. She would follow him straight through the gates of Hell without him even having to ask.
Chapter Four
Lalana's mind raced as she and MC ROC walked out to the parking lot. The sun had set, giving way to a perfect, balmy evening. Lalana walked a few steps behind ROC's entourage, overwhelmed by her good fortune. Suddenly ROC stopped and took a phone call.
Lalana stood off to the side to give him some privacy, watching as the other guys rushed to their respective vehicles.
"L," ROC said, "show Shorty here to my ride. I'll holla in a minute; I need to handle some business real fast."
L - a man Lalana hadn't noticed, appeared.
"I'm Logan," he said.
Logan was a towering six and a half feet tall, with mocha-colored skin, a neatly shaped Afro, and a muscular frame. His voice was deep and gave Lalana the sense he had a pleasant di
sposition.
When they arrived at the car - a custom Bentley! - Lalana jumped back to allow him to open the door for her.
"Ma'am," Logan began, "um, you mind if I ask you a question?"
The question itself startled Lalana. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sure, and my name, I mean, you can call me, Lalana," she stammered.
"Okay, let's get in," he said, holding the door open. After closing Lalana in, he rushed around and jumped into the driver's seat before glancing in the direction of where MC ROC stood using the phone. Logan adjusted the rearview mirror and asked Lalana if she was comfortable.
"Oh, yes sir," Lalana said. "I am."
"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked, his voice a bit shaky.
Lalana was baffled. "Um, should I?" she responded, hoping she didn't sound rude.
"Lalana George, right? Lemme see. You graduated from Washington High, right?" Logan asked.
"Yeah," she nodded slowly, squinting and searching her memory. "You went to Washington?"
"Yeah." Logan grinned ear-to-ear. "I can't believe you don't remember a brotha." He chuckled, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
"Well, turn around for me!" she cried. "High school was a long time ago." But even with him facing her from the front seat, she couldn't place him.
"You were at Washington for all four years?" she asked.
"Yup, freshman to senior year. Just like you."
"Damn, I'm usually good at recognizing people from my past." Lalana felt embarrassed. The look on Logan's face suggested the subject was somehow important to him.
"Well," he chuckled. "We went to school together, but I wasn't exactly in your circle."
"My circle," Lalana repeated.
"Yeah, you know, the popular kids. I was hidden behind thick Coke-bottle glasses, and a mouth full of braces," Logan admitted.
"I wouldn't say I was popular," Lalana defended.
"Let's see," he said. "Head cheerleader, dating the captain of the football team, captain of the tennis team - need I go on?"
Lalana felt her cheeks redden. How could he remember so much about her when she couldn't so much as recognize him?
"I'm sorry," she shrugged.
"Hey no worries," Logan answered. "You can't expect to remember everyone."
Lalana smiled warmly and decided to politely hear him out until MC ROC showed up.
"So you went to Washington," she said. "You must've lived in the neighborhood."
Logan shook his head. "Nah, I'm from the East Side. I went to Washington 'cause my mom's sister lived in the area. She didn't want me to go to Jefferson."
Would it be rude of Lalana to turn and see what was keeping ROC, she wondered? Maybe she could catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Logan seemed friendly. He looked good, too. But Lalana was focused on ROC.
"Yeah, I remember when you used to go with... Damn, what's that cat's name?" Logan snapped his fingers trying to trigger his memory.
"So, how long you been working for MC ROC?" she asked, trying to change the subject. She was a startled by the sudden look of hurt on Logan's face.
"I'm sorry," she offered, "did I say something wrong?" "Nah, nothing like that," he answered. "It's just, well, I don't work for MC ROC. I work for myself."
"Oh, do you?" Lalana didn't mean to sounds so sarcastic.
"Yeah," Logan said. "I mean, I'm driving for him, but that's just because my regular guy had to go down south to see about his mom."
"So, lemme get this straight," Lalana said. "You're MC ROC's driver, but you don't work for him?"
Logan chuckled. "No, he's one of my regular clients. But I own a car service. I mean, I have a fleet of cars and a list of preferred clients. There are some I have to handle with kid gloves, but business is real good overall. Since my driver is gone, I had to fill in."
Before Lalana could respond the door flew open. ROC eased himself into the back seat.
"Sorry 'bout that Boo," he said. "We ready to roll now."
Neither ROC nor Lalana noticed the disappointment that washed over Logan's face.
Chapter Five
This can't be real, this can't be real, this can't be real. Lalana sank back into the deep leather bucket seats of MC ROC's custom-designed Bentley as the words swept through her brain. The car was unbelievably luxurious. It even smelled good back there.
For hours Logan navigated the Pacific Coast Highway while Lalana struggled to accept the fact she was spending all this time with her favorite rap star. In the first five hours, ROC had already had two stores closed down inside the Beverly Center so Lalana could shop. There was only one condition: "You model everything I tell you to, and if I like it, it's yours," ROC told her.
He couldn't be serious, she had thought.
But he was. After loading up on several outfits, pieces of lingerie, and pairs upon pairs of stripper-like stacked heels, they were on their way to ROC's place in Malibu. Lalana sat next to him, sure she was dreaming.
"So Shorty," ROC said, "whicha' my cuts you like the best?"
"Oh, 'Henny and Head', without a doubt," she answered without hesitation.
MC ROC eased back and smiled. "That's wassup," he said smoothly.
Lalana wondered how much longer they were going to be on the road. Sitting next to MC ROC was more than she could handle. While they were in the stores it was okay, because salespeople kept them company while jumping at her every whim. And when they ate, ROC's entourage was one table away within earshot of every word exchanged. Back in the car, Lalana didn't know what to expect.
Sitting next to him as he sipped on a Crown and Coke, she felt nervous energy rush through her veins.
"You scareda' me huh?" he asked with a wicked grin, sensing Lalana's anxiety.
"Who, me? I'm cool," she insisted.
"Why you way over there then, Shorty?" ROC removed the glass from his lips and licked them in that sexy way she liked.
"Oh, um, just trying not to crowd you," Lalana said shyly.
"You know I'm really feelin' you, right?"
Lalana didn't know how to respond. Did MC ROC just confess that he was feeling her? Lalana wasn't sure how to react.
"You could have any woman you want," she stammered.
"True dat," he smiled, "But I'm wit' you. So why don't you come over here and sit next to me for a sec."
Lalana's palms were sweaty. Her heart beat uncontrollably. And try as she might, she couldn't escape the ever-increasing wetness between her thighs.
"You, ah, you want me to what?" she asked, even though she had heard his request.
"Move over here, Shorty. I know you ain't scared, are you?" he asked with a lifted brow.
Lalana was more nervous than scared. "If I come too close I can't be held responsible for what might happen," she warned with false confidence.
She didn't miss the sudden sparkle in his eyes.
"Ain't nothin' sitting between us but space and opportunity, Shorty."
Lalana slid in next to him. From a nearby panel, ROC pressed a button that closed the window curtain between driver and backseat.
ROC threw an arm around Lalana's shoulders and pulled her closer. She struggled to contain her excitement. Then she felt his hot breath on her neck. Within moments his tongue was all over her.
"Damn Shorty, you fine as all get out, a real dime piece," he moaned.
Head thrown back, Lalana released her own gut-wrenching moan. She didn't know what to do, or how far to go. She didn't have long to consider.
Lalana pulled back from one of ROC's long kisses to look at the surreal image before her eyes. Was she really in the back seat of a custom-made Bentley making out with this man?
ROC answered her thoughts as, in one sweeping motion, he unbuckled his jeans, unzipped his fly, and revealed a pair of gold silk boxers. Drawn to him as moths are drawn to a flame, Lalana reached out to touch ROC's bulge.
"Wow," she breathed. He was already so hard. She sat, her anticipation rising.
"Yeah, that's all me," R
OC boasted. He lay back on the seats, his jeans wrapped around his ankles and his massive cock protruding through the boxers.
Lalana smiled. "Ooh, this is definitely my lucky day," she breathed huskily before pulling off her bra and marveling at his stunned reaction.
"Damn, those are nice," he said, palming her breast and squeezing. When he released her after a few moments and opened his legs, his member fell from the slit in his shorts. Lalana couldn't resist.
On her knees now, she lapped her tongue along his shaft, circling around him right up to the tip. Once there, she slopped the end of his rod with saliva, wrapped her lips around him, and sucked ROC in as far as she could. He was huge.
"Work that shit, Shorty!" he moaned. "Oh, yes! That's right, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout!"
The more he talked and egged her on, the more Lalana got into it. She bobbed her head back and forth, sucking ROC hard as he thrust against her. When she heard him groan and noticed his thighs shaking, she stopped. She backed up and used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.
MC ROC's eyes widened in sheer shock. His mouth opened. "Wassup? Whas' goin' on?"
"Oh, you ain't coming yet, big Daddy," she taunted.
"What?" he pulled back and looked down at his glistening member. "You can't leave a brotha like this," he complained.
"Oh, I ain't done with you yet," she promised. "How much longer 'til we get to where we going?"
"Um, we got more than a minute," he assured her, quickly working to slip on a condom.
Lalana unzipped her skirt, stepped out of her panties, swung one leg over, and straddled ROC's enormous member. Her juices dripped down onto his skin as Lalana reached down and slowly guided him into her. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes: Never had something so big been inside of her. Her wetness allowed him to slide in with relative ease.
"Goddamn! You feel so good," ROC grunted.
Lalana wiggled her hips and rode him hard. She twisted to the left, ground her body against his, and savored the feeling of his hips thrusting; pushing deeper and deeper inside her. He touched her breasts and squeezed her nipples.
"Sssss, oh yes!"
Hip Hop Heat Page 2
