“Check wit’ Mikki at HQ,” The Queen ordered. “See if everybody over there paid up.”
“It’s done.” CoCo shot a look at the two B’Amazons and two Barriors at her sides.
The Queen glimpsed all the bodyguards positioned throughout The Playroom, which was the entire top floor of this building known as The Playhouse. Every B’Amazons and Barriors wore a ninja black uniform.
The ones at the door were making sure the line of women still entering each wore a pink wristband and a health card. When scanned through a small black machine, a computer chip inside, confirmed that the client had been checked downstairs at the clinic for pregnancy, major health problems, and all sexually transmitted diseases, including HIV.
They didn’t want any pregnant women up here risking their baby’s safety with wild sex. Other health problems they needed to avoid included weak hearts and neurological problems. One ground-shaking orgasm, and a bitch could fall out or drop dead. And Babylon didn’t need any ambulances pulling up to the pussy party.
Near the entrance, another door led to the locker room. There, Lee Lee Wilson glanced up and winked at The Queen. The chief B’Amazon was gorgeous tonight, with her wild mane of curly black hair that was highlighted with maroon streaks around her dark, slanted eyes, button nose, and full cheeks. Hip and sexy, Lee Lee had a sort of Bride of Frankenstein look, but her glamour didn’t stop her from being tough as she oversaw the B’Amazons, checking in every woman’s purse and giving her a key to a locker for her clothes. The B’Amazons also waved each woman’s nude body with a metal detector; no weapons, phones, cameras, recording devices or other electronics were allowed in the party, for privacy and security reasons. If anything went wrong, a deafening alarm would ring. That would put all Barriors and B’Amazons on red alert lockdown until the culprit was caught and dealt with accordingly.
“I just did a security check,” CoCo said. “Lee Lee handled one little disturbance with a chick who wanted to bring her cell phone into the party. Turns out it had a built-in camera. She wanted a picture of herself fuckin’ Flame ’cause she heard the legend. We took it, an’ she changin’ right now.”
“Keep an eye on her,” The Queen said.
“It’s done, Queen.”
CoCo turned to the four bodyguards with the money. Each held a small gold treasure chest, which they inserted into large Coach leather bags that hung diagonally over their shoulders and chests. All of them rested one hand on the bag, the hand on the opposite side, gripping the black metal shafts of gun power strapped to their solid muscle thighs.
“We on schedule,” CoCo said, meaning that the money would be delivered as planned to the vault down on the third floor.
“You always on point, girl.” The Queen stroked CoCo’s bare shoulder.
Trust was hard to come by in this business, but CoCo and The Queen were tight; they had history.
What a pleasant shock it was for The Queen to see CoCo at Babylon’s HQ, about a year ago when Knight took charge, asking if she could work for her. The twenty-six-year-old had said that the feds had questioned her about Dan Winston’s work and The Queen’s whereabouts. But rather than snitch on the family that had saved her life, CoCo’s loyalty had taken her straight to The Queen’s side; literally and lustfully.
CoCo’s eyes locked to the right. “That Stud wit’ an attitude, Flame, he cuttin’ a look that ain’t right; we betta check that shit.”
The Queen loved the way CoCo’s maroon-glossed lips looked so soft and sparkly in contrast to the hard tone of the words shooting up out of her mouth. “I’m ’bout to splash Flame’s ass with some ice water. Make that muthafucka show some respect.”
CoCo burst out laughing.
“What, girl?” The Queen asked playfully.
“If your daddy could see you now. You did a 180 into your dark side, and you all the way there now, like you could do a TV show called Extreme Black Makeovers.” CoCo laughed.
The Queen did too.
“Sometimes I forget you little Victoria wit’ the preppy school uniform and proper English.”
“Love it,” The Queen said. “Remember all those suited business people in Daddy’s office? If I saw ’em now, I could say real prim and proper, ‘Hi, I’m The Queen. My product is pussy and dick. My service? All the orgasms you could never even imagine, in a secure, confidential, and medically safe environment.”
CoCo laughed as she and the money bags went to make a deposit in the vault on the third floor.
The Queen felt a sly smile raise the corners of her mouth as she scanned the bare asses, the flailing legs, the titties of every size, the spread-open pussies, and the perfectly manicured toes pointing up over the Studs’ shoulders. These beautiful body parts belonged to some of the most powerful business women in America.
“Girl,” a naked sista shouted into The Queen’s ear, “I been dreamin’ of this since the day my law degree started turnin’ every man I meet into an intimidated, domineering, or social climbing prick. Dicks for hire! Now this is a way for a sophisticated sista to get her freak on, no strings attached.”
The woman, whose face was well known as a legal analyst on Global TV News Network, kissed The Queen’s cheek. “You need to do this from coast to coast; I’ll help spread the word.”
The Queen loved the raw, wild pleasure in the eyes of every woman in this room. Including this famous face.
The well known anchor, Trina Michaels, now wore a birthday suit instead of her usual TV business attire, a sheen of sweat highlighting her sleek, toned body. One of her nipples, which pointed out from big, perky boobs like chocolate kisses, brushed The Queen’s bare arm.
Damn, Celeste is soakin’ wet. Can’t wait to slide down on Knight’s lead pipe and ride into morning. The Queen wondered how many other women in the room named their pussies and let them come to life to the point that they had conversations with all that woman power between their legs. Probably none.
“Just don’t call me when my network does a story about the latest craze,” Trina said. “I can hear it now: ‘A new epidemic strikes women across America. A rabid addiction to sex from the hood.’” Trina laughed. “I’m not tryin’ to get featured on my own show as the legal chick who broke the law by soliciting for prostitution!”
The Queen smiled. “Here at Babylon, we provide a service that clearly”—she waved her right hand over the crowd—“is making the world a better place by giving pleasure to those who crave it. And this is much safer than picking up a random dude in the bar. Here, you know our Studs are clean, it’s supervised; the perfect hook-up.”
“Fantastic!” Trina exclaimed. “And as fucked up as our economy is, you’re giving our fine brothas from the neighborhood some phenomenal employment opportunities.”
The Queen smiled as dozens of naked Studs walked around with platters of martinis, champagne flutes, and raw oysters. Others carried trays offering silver bowls to collect used condoms and neatly rolled, warm, white washcloths to clean up after sex. All in a day’s work.
The girls from the hood were cashing in too. Right now, a hundred of Babylon’s best sluts were enjoying the same employment boom at Babylon HQ. A major rap group was holding its concert after party in The Garage and on the club balcony. They were “orgifying” the very place where, one year ago tonight, The Queen had connected face to face with her soul mate and said good-bye to the man who’d saved Alice from Ghettoland.
The Queen scanned Trina’s beautiful body. “This is my purpose in life, to help you and everybody pursue their pleasure. No shame, no worries, no double standard bullshit. Just wild, free fucking.”
Trina ran her fingertips over the chiseled, caramel and charcoal hued chest one of the Stud’s. “It ain’t free at all.” She tugged on the silver hoops in the caramel dude’s nipples.
“No, baby, but you get what you pay for,” The Queen said, giving a subtle nod to the Studs, who immediately led Trina to a nearby giant bed.
“It’s all for you, baby,” The Queen whispered
as the darker Stud with waist-length braids laid back, his cock pointing up like Cupid’s arrow.
Trina stood over him, squatted, and speared herself down on it. His dick disappeared between the two arcs of her pretty little ass.
For a split second, The Queen wondered if the TV star had any clue that her hostess tonight was the fugitive whose face had appeared many times on GNN. Trina had even done an in depth report on the mysterious suicide scandal of Dan Winston and the ensuing federal investigation, and the disappearance of his bi-racial daughter in Detroit’s worst ghetto.
I am not that scared, sheltered little girl anymore. I’m a badass bitch who’s runnin’ things now with the finest man, who loves me more than oxygen. Couldn’t be happier. My erotic empire in full effect. Duke created a monster Madame in me, and Knight’s giving me free reign. Now I just gotta keep some of these muthafuckas in check ’cause they can’t deal with a woman in charge. But it’s a new day at Babylon. So mothafucka’s better fall in line, or they’ll have to answer to me and Knight in a minute.
The Queen was snapped out of her thinking when her eyes met with CoCo’s. She got the nod from CoCo that meant the money was safe and sound.
“Send me Ping and Pong,” The Queen said. She nodded at the Barriors and B’Amazons, including Lee Lee, who had transported the cash.
As paranoid as Knight had become lately, because of all this money and fools tryin’ to jockey for his power, he still trusted the six people around her right now with their lives and their bank. Their job, after the party, would be to take the money to the main vault at Babylon HQ, where it could be processed into the overseas accounts.
“I’ll be in the Champagne Room,” The Queen said with her cold business voice. It contrasted with the sexy sultry tone from just minutes ago, as her voice reflected what Knight called the yin and the yang of this erotic enterprise. The ancient Chinese philosophy said that everything had both bad and good, negative and positive, dark and light. And she was about to deal with the ugly side. All the electrifying fucking around her, and the millions she made from it, was the yang, the positive energy, and a direct result of her brilliant business plan to expand Babylon to the untapped women’s market.
This 100 women strong national sorority party was a taste of things to come, for sure. Every women’s convention coming to Detroit, and the cities where she and Knight were running Babylon, were getting a tour from a visitors and convention bureau of a different sort, offering the kind of extracurricular diversion that was usually reserved for their husbands, boyfriends, fathers, and brothers.
Like Daddy always said, “Get rich in a niche. So now it’s the ladies’ turn. The Queen scanned the throng of bodies for the organizer, a high-powered CEO from Chicago, who had orchestrated this night. There she was, kneeling on a window ledge, her hands gripping the sheer white drapes like a rope, as a Stud gripped her hips and drilled her so hard, her close cropped head snapped back with every thrust.
“You should win a businesswoman of the year award,” a white female voice shouted into her ear. “We finally get to enjoy the oldest profession in the world, and hey, this brings new meaning to the term, ‘diversity training.’”
The suntanned woman, with a milky white butt where her bikini bottoms must have been, slinked past, holding hands with a dark chocolate Stud.
“This is for you, Queen,” the woman shrieked as the Stud lifted her up and slammed her blond haired pussy down on his huge dick. Her blue eyes closed, her pampered face crinkled in pleasure.
The Queen’s pussy pulsated as the Stud’s long fingers wrapped around the woman’s thighs, and he yanked her up and down, pounding up into a place that was previously uncharted territory for Babylon.
As the couple fucked, The Queen looked past them to the buffet. The serving platters were gorgeous, naked men whose chests, thighs, and open palms served up decadent mounds of grapes, pineapple chunks, shrimp, scallops, and wedges of brie. All around them, naked women perched on the pillows, chatting and nibbling with abandon. A few women dared to eat with their mouths, directly off the Studs!
I am brilliant. These high-powered women have needed some good dick for a long time. Now I’m fulfilling an important role in the world by providing it. And gettin’ mine at least twice a day with the sexiest man alive, because I am Queen of the Knight. The Queen focused on the couple fucking before her.
The woman’s eyes opened, and she smiled.
Damn, my pussy is hot. But this was business. Pleasure would come later. Because Knight knew his job description as King of Babylon and as The Queen’s soul mate meant he had to fuck her good after every event. And he would tonight, later, on the boat.
Now, for the yin—the negative shit that she had to handle within this unique line of work; dealing with difficult workers; like Flame.
No sooner did The Queen turn to glance at him, when he stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and made a face like he was disgusted. His client crouched on the couch and sobbed into her hands. Flame was one of Duke’s boys. Ever since Knight had come back and taken over, Flame was having a hard time adjusting to the new chain of command. He made it obvious he had a problem with The Queen and he was demanding he get a “no pussy eating” clause in his job description just because he was one of Babylon’s first workers.
The Queen nodded to one of the Studs sipping an energy drink beside the giant fireplace. With a subtle point of her index finger, he walked over to the crying chick, pulled her into his arms, and carried her to a plush window seat overlooking the river. He rocked her in his lap then turned her toward him. Her long, brown hair tossed down her back, her tiny ass slid down over his big dick, and he bounced her troubles away.
That’s exactly what The Queen was about to do with Flame. “Get the fuck in the Champagne Room wit’ me,” she said with a hard, grinding tone in his ear.
“Bitch, you crazy.”
“Get the fuck in the room unless you’d rather talk to Knight.”
Johnny “Flame” Watts flashed his famous, smoky-gray bedroom eyes. His black as licorice linebacker body stiffened. Then he turned and walked butt naked toward a red door to their right. Even though he was pushing forty, his body was perfect. The Queen drew power from the fact that Knight’s two most trusted Barriors, Ping and Pong, followed right behind her. In their black ninja uniforms, guns strapped to their bulging thighs, their earpieces assured her that they could be summoned in a split second if she needed their brawn to beat down this unruly Stud named Flame.
Now, as The Queen and Flame went through the red door and closed it, Ping and Pong stayed outside. They’d be on her in a flash, if necessary; plus the closed-circuit TV would allow Paul and Gerard, codirectors of Babylon security, to watch and listen to their every word and movement. The champagne fountain in the middle of the room gurgled as Flame stood near white couches and cube-shaped chairs that glowed pink under red lights.
A flat-screen TV on the wall blasted a bank robbery story on the ten o’clock news. “In other news tonight,” the anchor said, “Federal agents are still searching for fugitive Victoria Winston. It’s been one year since the eighteen-year-old disappeared after her father’s mysterious suicide. New information in the case of embezzlement and money laundering against her father has investigators desperate to find the teen; now it’s believed that she helped her father launder money for a powerful crime family—”
The Queen snatched up the remote from the glass coffee table. “Turn that shit off.” Her picture, so different from the woman she was now, flashed on the screen. That girl with the innocent smile and the starched white-collared school uniform and pearl earrings was someone else. Victoria Winston had stepped into the hood as a terrified, virginal, white girl, but sex with two Mandingo warrior studs, a crash course in “streetology,” and the discovery of her racial roots had transformed her into a sexy, black diva running a multimillion-dollar urban empire with the sexiest man on the planet.
“Stupid bitch!” Flame’s deep
laughter assaulted her ears as he doubled over with hysterics. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”
She stepped close to him. “You can talk, but call me a bitch one more time and you won’t be able to walk.”
“Listen, quit your corny ass rhymin’ on me.”
His legendary dick was still semi-hard, forming a perfect black arc from a close cropped frame of black hair between the V of his groin muscles and the iron hard bulges of his thighs. His dick reminded her of the triangle shaped head of a python lying still before pouncing on its prey.
“Listen, the only reason you got a record deal was ’cause Knight told the Bang Squad to do it; ain’t ’cause you can sing.”
“You seem to have forgotten that I’m your boss.” The Queen’s black leather pants made a crinkling noise as she strode angrily toward him. “This is your job, and it ain’t shit for you outside o’ Babylon.”
Flame smiled at the TV. “One phone call and your wannabe ghetto ass would be on lockdown with Uncle Sam. Think you tough now that you found your black side, but you ain’t never been and won’t never be nothin’ but a prissy, white bitch who got turned out by some ‘soul brotha’ sex in the hood.”
A mirror over the couch behind him, caught The Queen’s attention. She glimpsed the expression that she was casting down on him. Her straight, black hair hung down her back and over her forehead in bangs that hit just above her perfectly arched black eyebrows. Big gold hoop earrings tickled her cheeks, which were suntanned deep bronze. Her high, Indian-priestess cheekbones glowed as naturally red as her full, puckering lips.
Damn. I look tough as hell, and so sexy. I’d lick my own pussy if I could reach her . . . because I love my life.
That passion sparkled with power in her silver-blue eyes, which were ringed by thick, black lashes and Cleopatra-style liner extending from the corners. Her little round nose crinkled as Flame’s words tried to penetrate her thoughts, but she wasn’t hearin’ it. Her mouth watered at the sight of her blue and gold striped halter top, which squeezed her creamy titties together. She loved the way her newest tattoo played up the phrase Cleopatra of the Nile by announcing, in cobalt blue script-style letters that rolled up and over the hills of her chest, with two words on each breast.
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 31
