Sex in the Hood Saga

by White Chocolate

  “I got a cousin who lighter ’n her,” said the small, plain nanny. “We can’t hold it against somebody for how God made them look.”

  “Yes, we can!” The other two high-fived each other. They were whispering so Duke couldn’t hear them.

  “Renee, you always tryin’ ta make nice,” the girl with braids said. “Even though you work wit’ Queen Evil. Milan already half crazy, but she gon’ be triple crazy—”

  “Not if she remember what happened to Sunnie,” one nanny said. “Kicked out on her ass ’cause she didn’t act right. Now little Precious think I’m her momma. But l ain’t mad at nobody. I love that baby like she mine.”

  “Plus you got Sonnie’s apartment,” Renee said with a big smile. “An’ clothes. An’ maybe even a taste o’ The Duke.”

  The girl made a zipper motion over her lips, but her laughing eyes flashed a big “Yes!”

  “Where white girl stay?” one of them whispered.

  “Penthouse,” another mumbled.

  “I escaped!” Duke shouted. He stood. All the kids screamed with delight. They were latching onto his legs like he was a pole they wanted to climb. “Gimme kisses. I need ten. Zeus, do the math. How many kisses each baby gotta give they daddy?”

  “Two!” the boy exclaimed. Duke raised him with one arm like a forklift. The boy kissed Duke’s beautiful cheeks. Duke did the same for each smiling child.

  “Bye-bye, Daddy!” the apple-cheeked girl giggled, waving as he and Duchess stepped into the hallway and closed the door.

  “Take care o’ mine,” Duke said as she walked ahead of him toward the elevator. The hallway had plush black carpet, exposed brick walls and gold Egyptian-style sconces lighting the way past doors stained a rich shade of red.

  Duchess’ legs felt like pistons being pumped by red-hot sparks of jealousy.

  “You ‘take care of mine’ what?” Duchess asked. Her insides were vibrating with attitude. If Duke fucks all these women, then he’s gotta fuck me double what he gives them. Duchess privileges.

  “My kids. My baby mommas.”

  “Why are you so proud that you musta been fifteen when you became a father?” Duchess crossed her arms and stared hard at him as they stood at the sleek stainless steel elevator framed by the same exposed beams and sandblasted brick as she’d seen throughout this former warehouse building.

  “I’m proud because I’m doin’ right. My kids and they mommas got the best o’ e’rything. I take care of my own, right here, where I can make sure they fed and not growin’ up around the kinda bullshit I saw.” Duke’s jaw muscles flexed. “An’ all my baby mommas know. Bring anotha nigga up around my kids? That particular female, she out. Evicted. I keep my kids.”

  “Like Sunnie.”

  The muscle rippled harder over his jaw. “Sunnie set a good example. Since Knight been in jail, my top boy was Big Moe. But Big Moe an’ Sunnie, they storybook romance was turnt into a horror flick. They attraction turned fatal. They liaison turned dangerous.”

  Duchess wanted to smile at his clever play on movie titles, but the words twisted painfully in her gut, like a sharp gas bubble. Did that mean they were dead?

  “Tell me they pulled a Romeo and Juliet and not—”

  “Not!”

  “Well, who are they, your baby mommas?”

  “They gon’ hate you,” he said. “But long as they get theirs, they straight.”

  “Their what? Their sex?”

  “Money. Apartments. Clothes. Dancin’ in videos an’ at concerts. Some of ’em doin’ a video shoot today, downstairs. An’ they practicin’ fo’ my birthday party. Tha’s when I’ma present The Duchess.”

  “Present?”

  “Yeah, once they see you a sista on the inside an’ the outside, they gon’ respec’ you jus’ like e’rybody respec’ me. All my females dream o’ bein’ picked as The Duchess. You so clueless, you ain’t even hip to how much pull you got.”

  “All my females?” Duchess busted out laughing, but she got dead-serious just as quickly. “Don’t ever lump me into the ‘my females’ category. Like they’re your fleet of sports cars and you just pick which one you want to drive for the moment!”

  Duke pulled a phone from his belt. A blue light was flashing on the front until he pushed a silver button on the side then clipped it back to his waist.

  All of a sudden, Duchess felt another twinge of jealousy. His phone was constantly ringing. Was it business or booty calls?

  How could she ever know? Part of her was submitting to this situation as a business deal so she could learn to be just like The Duke. But her emotions were raw, front and center, too, and they were getting in the way when it came to all these women.

  “Yeah, girl!” a female voice echoed in the distance, down the hall. She was one of many in a huge crowd of voices that were getting louder. Duchess kept her glare locked on Duke, who was staring into his phone and pushing the button as if to check who had called.

  “An’ I was like, ‘Fo’ real?’” one girl said, shooting words out of her mouth with dizzying speed. Duchess turned slightly. A stream of girls—all as flashy and pretty and sexy as if they’d just stepped out of a music video—poured into the small elevator area. Giggles erupted as they approached.

  “Hi, Massa Duke,” they said, a chorus of sweet voices.

  His eyes glowed the same way Victoria’s and her friends’ eyes used to glaze over with temptation when they walked into Mrs. Fields cookies.

  The girls packed the six-foot-by-six-foot space between Duchess, Duke, and the exposed brick walls. Duke was like a tower of machismo in a swirl of pretty faces, perfect hair, and wild clothes.

  The sultan amidst a tiny fraction of his harem. What if someday I become a sultaness with a harem of equally sexy guys? Then I wouldn’t have to worry about whether Duke would give me some dick when I wanted it. Like I did today upstairs. I could have my pick of studs all to myself.

  “Wha’z up?” Duke’s deep voice vibrated through the sex cloud that was rising along with the fruity, floral, and spicy scents of the girls’ perfumes, lotions, hairspray, and gum.

  The sultan was surveying it all, especially all the butts packed in tight jeans. One girl’s backside was freakishly large, each cheek literally rolling up-down, up-down like two basketballs in a bag that was bumping against someone’s leg as they carried it. She stopped near the elevator.

  Her side view reminded Duchess of that horrible day, just a few weeks ago, when Brian shoved pictures of the Hottentot tribe in Africa into Victoria’s face. The otherwise thin women had enormous buttocks that protruded at a ninety-degree angle from the smalls of their backs. Some of the women were even captured and put on display in carnival-like, traveling freak shows throughout Europe.

  Brian, who was apparently doing a paper on it, shouted, “I saw this in the library today and it reminded me of your ass!” Then he busted out laughing.

  “If you think I’m so fat, why are you so proud to be with me?” Victoria had shouted back.

  “Because you’re brilliant. And beautiful. And I’m just teasin’ you, sweetie.”

  Why was I with that jerk? Because his family was so prestigious ? Because Daddy said it was important for my future to stay connected to one of the richest and most powerful families in not just Detroit and Michigan but in the country? “Old money speaks louder and deeper than the whisper of the nouveau riche,” Daddy used to say.

  “I am fo’ real,” said the girl who first caught Duchess’ attention. She kept talking a mile a minute through lips glossed pink. A fountain of maroon-tinted braids danced over her head as she said, “An’ he was like, ‘Fo’ real, doe!’ It all jes’ happen’ so fas’!”

  The girl had giant, hot pink letters splashed all over her impossibly tight jeans and denim jacket, which was open to a pink rhinestone camisole in front that was so tight and skimpy, two brown arcs of nipples dotted its top edge.

  “Guuuurrrrrlllll,” her platinum blonde friend responded. She had false eyelashes and
a see-through white mesh tank top with white jeans. Her nipples pointed through the mesh like brown peanut M&M candies. “You ain’t gotta take dat shit, fo’ the simple fact that—”

  Duchess glanced at Duke, whose eyes were devouring every one of these gorgeous girls. His stare was like an open mouth under a delicious piece of pizza when the cheese dripped, steaming hot. He looked like he wanted to slurp down every drop of the sex that was oozing from these girls, even from the one in the yellow rhinestone bustier. She wore auburn-hued side ponytails that swayed as she talked about testifying in court for some complicated legal matter. The flawless skin on her toned shoulders, and the beautiful curves of her waist above her jeans made it impossible to think straight. If Duchess felt this entranced as a girl, then what in the world was Duke thinking?

  His dazed and seduced expression left no doubt.

  Those jealousy sparks popped through Duchess’ whole body and prickled up through her skin. She was mesmerized, though, by all these girls. Who were they? What were they doing here? Did they always dress like that? Duchess couldn’t look away from the girl in white leather daisy dukes and a tiny bolero jacket with knee-high boots.

  “Then I sent his rims,” the girl said. “Twennie-foes like you ain’t neva seen. An’ I was like, I’ma get wit’ him if it kill me!”

  “Guuuurrrrllll, you lay some o’ yo’ sweet shit on dat ma’fucka, he gon’ be out cold.” She held up her hand like a stop sign. “Guuurrrrlll, you know I’d be like, talk to the hand, Negro.”

  “You know I did! When he pull up, he was like,” the girl deepened her voice, “‘Dang mami, you thick!’ An’ I was like, ‘Is yo’ dick thick?’”

  Her friend giggled.

  “An’ my ass,” the girl said, slapping her butt, “Sssssttttt. Hot. Gucci, head to toe. Nails, hair, did like a queen. One look an’ he was los’!”

  Duchess smiled. These girls had so much personality and excitement.

  “Duke, we heard ’bout you finally found you a Duchess,” said a girl in jeans with rhinestones down the outer seam. The girl raked her fake-lashed eyes up from Duchess’ feet to her eyes. Nutmeg-hued eyes smouldered as she stared at Duchess then Duke. “She look soft. Let us show her some moves.”

  “She’ll see all o’ y’all dance at my party,” Duke said with too much lust in his eyes.

  I bet Duke fucks all of these chicks.

  Duchess’ cheeks burned as she imagined all of these girls shimmying their asses around Duke as he stood there with his hands crossed like those rappers did in videos. As if he were the king and all the women in the world were simply born to serve him.

  “Y’all goin’ to rehearsal?”

  “Yeah,” said another chick who blew him a kiss then glanced at Duchess with hazel eyes a glow with mischief.

  Naw, that bitch a ho and she wanna fuck Duke. Period.

  Duchess shook her head to stop that black voice in her mind that kept rewording everything she thought. The voice was just echoing the speech cadences she was hearing around her.

  “Bang Squad in’a house!” the girls cheered, raising hands over their heads, flashing long acrylic fingernails painted metallic gold. Their voices thundered as they sang, “Babylon rule, wit’ Dtown cool, urban jewel, win any duel, jack a fool, sexy seductive, serve an’ protect. In Babylon, Duke an’ Duchess get respect.” An equal number of girls were smiling and scowling at Duchess as they sang. Why hadn’t Duke introduced her?

  He was nodding to the beat as the elevator doors opened. A dozen girls packed in, but a crowd remained. The girls kept singing, but one girl glared at Duchess and sang, “In Babylon, Duke love constant sex.” The girl stuck her tongue out at Duchess in a way that was both snotty and seductive.

  “C’mon.” Duke pulled Duchess’ hand toward a door. “Let’s take the stairs up.”

  In the stairwell, their singing was still loud and their sex energy was just as strong. It made words and jealousy and fear shoot up from Duchess’ gut so powerfully, her shoulders twitched as she spoke.

  “Duke, we haven’t finished talking about our agreement for me to work for you.” She was racing up two flights of stairs behind him. Were big Moe and Sunnie dead? And if so, was death the penalty for anyone who crossed Duke? “You need to tell me what exactly you do here besides have sex and get mad when other people do.”

  “I don’t have to tell you shit ’cept what you need to know,” Duke said.

  Slam! Duke pushed the bar on the stairwell door marked 7. The sound echoed like a sinister exclamation point after his last word.

  “Well, don’t take it out on me,” Duchess snapped, following him into the stairwell. “This place is like all sex, all the time. All those girls! The sex in the gym! How can you blame anybody for wanting to fuck twenty-four/seven under the influence of this place?”

  He turned, glaring down. “Bidness always come befo’ booty.”

  “Say business.”

  “Bizz! Ness!” Duke tossed his head back. Deep laughter echoed up through the stairwell. “No, you the one who ’bout to get schoo’ed on Ebonics. The Duchess gon’ speak the queen’s English when she negotiate for Babylon, but here at home, you gon’ learn to speak fluent homegirl.”

  Duchess thought about the swarm of girls they just left. She put a hand on her hip, tilted her head forward with a slight neck snap, and said with a slow, controlled and very urban cadence,

  “Den you gon’ show me all yo’ baby mommas.” Duke blinked. “Wait, lemme close your eyes an’ you can hear it again.” She covered his eyes with her hands then repeated it.

  “A-plus!” Duke smiled, leading her into the hallway. “But we still gon’ have a Ebonics tutorial.”

  “Answer my question,” she said. “Who are all these girls? I mean, do you fuck them? I am not tryin’ to catch bumps, blisters, burning or some three-letter death sentence.”

  The first time they made love, she had insisted on a condom.

  The time in the shower and the office, she had not, even though Duke ejaculated on her ass or stomach.

  Duchess remembered reading news articles about how Detroit was ranked one of the country’s “most infected cities” with gonorrhea, syphyllis, genital warts, chlamydia, herpes, and HIV. And if Timbo took a dive in those infected waters, then I’d have that shit. Oh my God.

  “Duke, we have to use condoms every time if—”

  Duke was walking fast, his jaw muscle flexing.

  “Duke, tell me your dick is a hundred percent healthy. All these girls—”

  He stopped at an unmarked door, turned. Something wicked glinted in his genie eyes.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” Duchess said, “that’s how the nannies and half those girls looked at me. Like they wanna slap me down a couple shades.”

  “Ain’t nobody gon’ touch The Duchess.” His words sliced the air like knives.

  “Who is Milan?”

  “Somebody you ain’t neva gon’ meet.”

  Duchess asked more forcefully. “Who is Milan?”

  “She my first baby momma. Zeus an’ Hercules, the two bigger boys.”

  “Is she moving? Because I’m not.”

  Duke pulled her close for a hug. They’d gone upstairs, showered—where they fucked some more—and changed into fresh clothes. She pressed her ear to the center of his chest as he said, “Damn, girl, I love yo’ sassy ass. You come up in here two days ago, an’ you rulin’!”

  “Well, since I’m staying, but I’m never gonna meet Milan, then she must be leaving.”

  “This a big building.”

  “I don’t like non-answers,” she said, pulling back to look straight up into his eyes. “So, Milan may or may not be leaving. Where is she?”

  “Workin’ here on the seventh floor.”

  “Is this where you keep baby mommas during the day?”

  “There you go,” Duke said with an equally sassy tone.

  Duchess rolled her eyes, stepping toward the door as she said, “I guess I have to see for myse
lf since you’re so stingy with information.”

  He swatted her butt as they stepped through the door.

  “Miss Hot Booty,” he groaned, leading her through yet another hallway.

  “So, Duke, tell me, if all these employees and ‘mommas’ are your harem and they give you sex, then do I get to fuck those hot guys in the gym?” She shrugged and spoke in a stern tone. “I mean, I’m hoping that this tour includes an orientation period so you can clue me in on this new game of life. ’Cause so far, I’m playing without a rule book.”

  “We makin’ our own rules, baby girl!” His onyx eyes sparkled down at her, but something else flashed there.

  Something that twisted wrong in her gut.

  She added, “I take that as a Duchess-makes-her-own-rules kinda response.”

  “There is no ‘I’ in ‘we,’” Duke said, pinching her nipple through the aqua blue tank top, ruffled around the V-neck with tiny pearl buttons down the front. The quick pain punctuated what he said.

  “Then let’s agree right now. If you get to have sex with all those women, then I get to pick a dick or two and try that out.”

  Duke laid his hand over his crotch, making his diamond “D” ring sparkle. “My million-dolla dick don’t like it when Miss Celeste make him jealous.”

  “Well, my clean, healthy pussy doesn’t want Timbo spearin’ bad meat that makes me sick. Or dead!” She cocked her head to one side. “I can’t believe I didn’t make you wear a condom every time. My head is so fucked up right now. You’ve probably screwed hundreds of—” Duke put his hand over her mouth. Her moving lips brushed against his palm. “You got the prettiest pucker-fish lips on the planet, baby girl, but they need to be still right now.”

  Duchess’ eyes got huge. She didn’t even try to pry his enormous fingers off.

  I’m gonna remember this moment, motherfucker, because I have no idea what you’ve helped me get myself into. I might have AIDS! I might be pregnant! And I was so caught up in the heat of the moment, I didn’t even think about it.