“I know, I’m just tripping, used to the high life now,” I said as I spoke in proper English voice.
“It’s gonna be okay. You just have to put on a 20 minute set or so and that will be it. After signing a couple of DVD’s and magazine covers, you’ll be done.”
He was right; there really wasn’t nothing much to it. So I told myself to cheer up. I was lucky to be making seven thousand for about two hours of work. Plus, it wasn’t the club that had me feeling down, it was the lack of Lanell’s calls.
“Two minutes Jezebel,” the guy who was running the show announced. Jamar walked me stage side and went and took his seat. I looked out and saw a full house. I shook the nerves off and waited for the DJ to call my name. The music came on and I got ready. Rude Boy by Rihanna came on and I walked out and went to work.
“Come here, rude boy, boy, can you get it up? Come here rude boy, boy, is you big enough?”
I let her seductive lyrics take over me and I became the secret slut Breeze groomed me to be. I swayed my hips, rode the pole, climbed it, slid down, spread my legs, and popped my ass like a seasoned stripper. Men came up to the stage and slipped five, 10, 20, and 50 dollar bills down my G-string and top. Once the second song ended and Do I, by Alice Smith came on per my song request list, I slowed things down as she sang.
“I must express the way it feels to ride all day, without a care, conversation and a coffee.”
I swung my hair, took off my top and crawled over to a hand I saw holding a one hundred dollar bill. I sat at the edge of the stage and spread my legs and wined my hips to the beat. Once my big tipper leaned forward, I saw his face. It was Breeze, almost salivating over what used to be his. I felt his chilled hand slide up my thigh as his eyes fucked me. As the music played, under the dimmed lights, and the absence of Lanell’s affection, I reminisced on the lust we had. I turned over and got on my knees, his favorite position. I leaned over, made my chin touch the stage, and as Suitelady by Maxwell came one, I did a split and worked my ass.
“It’s been so long since I have got you lady, since I have had your brown legs wrapped around me. The smell of she just drives me crazy, imagine what the sight of her can do, wooo.”
Damn, was that song true to form? He stood up and without me knowing, grabbed me and turned me around. I watched as the security guard headed toward the stage only to be stopped by the owner. Breeze was the prince on Tinsel Town and could do whatever the fuck her wanted, and he knew that too.
He pulled me close and with his right hand pushed my chest down, asking me to lie back without words. As Maxwell sang about not being the type of guy who would want to settle down, Breeze lifted my left leg and put it on his shoulder.
“Love can do, me and you.”
The song was our soundtrack as he leaned into my foot and kissed from my high heeled toes, up to my thigh. The club was on fire as the patrons looked on wishing that they had the power to do what he was doing. Once he got to my garter, he leaned back up, stuck another hundred dollar bill in it and took his seat. I had to force myself to stand up without falling. Breeze was a slimy bastard but he did know how to turn my freak button on high. The last song I had chosen, Pay Me by Miguel was coming on as I got back on the pole and sped up my pace. I tried to let the music take hold of me and prayed that it would block any further thoughts of Breeze fucking me.
“Give me Pound, give me Pound, give me Euro, give me Yen. I’m international baby, I’m international baby, I’m international baby, I’m international pay me.”
It wasn’t easy getting my energy back up to a level ten after almost cumming right there on the stage, but I did. I worked my shit as I stole glances at the devil I loved to hate. He was back to playing his game of human chess and yet again, I was his queen to be had.
*****
“Girlllllll,” Jamar said, as he burst into the locker room.
“What the fuck was that about, you and Breeze. People were going crazy off of that’s shit?”
“I don’t even know, it just happened, did you see him out there when you when and sat down?” I asked as I cleaned myself up and changed clothes. I went from my thong to a Fantasy Pictures baby-tee; very short shorts, and the staple six-inch clear stripper platform heels.
“Nah, I didn’t see him at all but you two were on fire. You could feel the sexual tension between y’all. Thank god Lust, I mean Lanell wasn’t here.”
He corrected himself after he remembered me asking him to call my man by his real name and not his porn name. Calling him Lust was okay, but I now knew his real name, and hearing it was music to my ears.
“Well, that’s all it is, tension,” I said, trying to convince myself more than him.
“Yeah, okay, but I know what I saw. You two were ready to fuck the brakes off of each other.”
“Okay, Jazz, they’ll be ready for you in a minute or two. They’re getting the table ready now. Do you still want to come out to Lady’s Yankin’?”
I told him yes as Jamar and I laughed.
“You’re not really gonna walk out to that song are you?”
I stood up and threw my hands on my hips.
“You should have never put me on to it; I can’t get it out of my head. It’s your fault so suffer through it.”
That was my new ghetto anthem. It was country, had a tight beat, and was nasty. What else did you need in a strip club named Down South Sexy? They were known to have the fattest asses that were imported from the south.
“I can’t even lie, I fuck betta when I’m drinkin’, ride dick like a pro, throw the pussy like I’m famous.”
I bobbed my head to the beat as I walked out and took my seat at the table. There was a long line of people waiting for the sign and meet and I would deliver on every level. I stayed until everyone in line was served. I looked around for Breeze while I met my fans but there was no sign of him, he was long gone.
*****
“Hey Lanell, I don’t know what’s going on but you need to call me, are you okay…just call and at least let me know if you’re okay.”
I ended the call and thought about calling again but what good would that do? I had heard from him only twice in the past week and the last call a day and a half ago was short…way too short for my liking. The phone rang, I picked up, and he was brief.
“Hey Jasmine, how have you been?”
How have I been? I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but instead I stayed cool.
“Been doing okay, also been wondering where you’ve been. What keeping you from calling?”
He took in a deep breath but didn’t say anything and I wasn’t in the mood for his guessing game.
“Is there something wrong, if there is, you should just tell me? I thought things were going good, but now, now you don’t even call. What about our plans, our future---?”
My mouth was moving faster than my brain and he could hear the confusion in my voice.
“I can’t really talk but it’s not what you’re thinking. You’re still my love, but look, I gotta go. Just know---.”
Now it was my turn to cut him off.
“Will I see you in Vegas?”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
“Well---.”
CLICK, he had hung up. WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? This was not like him. He was holding things from me, hanging up on me, and not fucking calling.
Shit, I had to go. The time on my phone read 10:00AM and I was set to fly out of L.A. in the next hour. I grabbed my suit case and ran out of my apartment to the waiting car. And although I was in a limo, flew to Vegas on a privet jet, and had a room reserved at a top hotel, I wasn’t happy. And I wasn’t going to be any happier once I got there either. Lanell wasn’t waiting for me at the airport as usual, nor was he at the hotel. I put my bags away and went down to the front desk.
“Has anyone been here asking for me?” I asked the young black girl who was juggling the phones and live customers. She took my name and typed it into the computer.
“No,
there are no messages here saying that someone was here for you. But you can check back with us in another hour. Tina went to lunch, maybe she would know.”
She was nice and all but I wasn’t in the mood. I walked away from her fuming. I went back to my room and blew his phone up to no avail.
*****
Later that day I went into the Black Oasis for rehearsal. My mood was still foul and performing was the last thing on my mind.
“Okay, take five,” the choreographer said as I missed another step. I went straight to my dressing room and dialed his number again. This time I got a hello.
“Lanell?”
“Bitch, you know this ain’t no mothafuckin’ Lanell.”
I started to hyperventilate.
“Who in the hell is this?”
“Who do you think this is?”
I could tell that she was smiling as she asked me this and it made my blood boil.
“I don’t have time for your fucking games, put Lanell on the phone,” I demanded.
“Oh, listen to this, you’re asking ME to put MY husband on the phone?” she asked in a sarcastic tone.
“YOU FUCKING RIGHT I AM,” I was staring to yell without even realizing it.
“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the new bitch; you’re the old bitch so get over it. So now that we have the introductions out of the way, give him the phone,” I said as I tried to get some air in my lungs.
“Well, old must be new again ‘cause he’s here in my house, I’m in my bed.”
CLICK, she hung up. I looked at my phone and threw it against the wall that was outside of my dressing room. I watched it shatter and didn’t give a shit about it either. I picked up the closet thing beside me, which happen to be a vase with fresh flowers in it, and chucked that at the wall too.
“Are you okay?”
Scarlett, my understudy happened to be walking by and ran into the room.
“What’s wrong Jazzy, wait, try and calm down.”
I was crying, screaming, and shaking all at once. My knees buckled and I slid down to the floor with her help. I cried in her arms as I tried to get her to understand, but I kept repeating the same thing over and over.
“Her house, her bed, her house, her bed.”
I looked into her eyes and saw fear. She must have thought that I had lost my mind.
“Whose house, whose bed? What are you talking about?”
“Her, he’s with her, at her house, in her bed.”
Over and over we had the same conversation. After a while she just stopped asking who, why, and what and just consoled me. I never went back out to rehearsal but I did perform the next day. I managed to get a standing ovation even though I felt like a zombie, the walking dead with no heart and soul.
Chapter 28
“Guess who Jazz saw in Santa Barbara?”
I was so relieved when Tyree was released from the hospital. I needed a hot shower, and I wanted to spread out and take a nap on my king size bed. Thankfully, Tyree wasn't seriously hurt; he just had a broken arm, a couple of bruised ribs, a mild concussion, and some minor cuts from the shattered glass. I prayed the night before, thanking God for not taking him away from me so soon. For the next couple of days, I catered to Tyree’s every need before and after work. While at Fantasy Pictures I had to not only film the movies I was scheduled for, but I had to fill in for Tyree's shoots as well. I was so worn out that I had to take some Viagra pills Breeze gave me just to keep it up. By the fifth day Mr. Cappello set up a hospital scene so Tyree could still go into work and star in a movie. Tyree was the patient and I was the male nurse seducing him while he was “drugged up on medication”. Tyree just had to lie there and moan while I did all the work, but it still turned out to be a hot movie.
The following weekend Tyree and I were already booked for a club appearance before the accident and we couldn’t cancel, it was the grand opening of a new LGBT club called Perplex. The club had two levels that were divided by triple reinforced glass, so you could see whatever was going on above you, or below you. A lot of people showed up just to see us, most were gay men of all races, with a few lesbians. We mingled and took pictures all night long. The atmosphere was fun and exciting. The DJ played a variety of good music so there was something for everyone to dance to.
I was enjoying the free liquor that the club provided for Tyree and me, a little more than usual, so you could say I was having a blast. However, my night started to go downhill as soon as I saw Karma walk in. Here Tyree was with a cast still on his arm, while Karma didn't even have a cut or a scratch on him. I thought he was still locked up for driving under the influence, and for possession of marijuana. So to see him there pretty much ruined my night. Fantasy Pictures had a table set up for us with photographs to sign, so when I noticed Karma walking toward us I downed which had to be my eighth mixed drink, give or take a few. I stood up and was ready to cuss his ass out.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?”
“Besides you, sexy?”
Was he serious? Accident or not, how could he even show his face after being so inconsiderate, and dumb for driving as drunk and high as he was? Since I didn't reply to his “flattery” he decided to speak up.
“When Blaze bailed me out of jail the other day I heard about the club opening, so I thought I'd come and show my support for my new Fantasy Pictures family. I brought some photos to sign and everything. I hope you guys don't mind me sitting with you.”
“OF COURSE WE MIND, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!” Tyree said, as he stood up and approached him.
Once I noticed the hatred in Tyree's eyes, I knew I had to step in. Tyree was still sore and I didn't want him to hurt his healing arm any more than it already was.
“Chill out, I got this, baby.”
I turned around to face Karma, who was pulling photos out of his book bag.
“I think you better leave. You weren't invited and Tyree's still pissed at you for almost killing him.”
“First of all, this is a club and it's open to everyone, so I don't need an invite. Second of all, Tyree wasn't pissed at me when he was fucking the shit outta me in the back of the truck right before the accident,” Karma replied, with one hand on his hip and a big ass smirk on his face.
I quickly turned around to look at Tyree.
“Tyree, what the fuck is he talking about?”
“That nigga is crazy; he's lying, Jamar.”
I turned back around to see how Karma was going to respond.
“Oh, I'm lying, Tyree? Really? You weren't grunting, and moaning while holding me down? You didn't tell me if I didn't let you get it you were going to rape my ass? None of that happened?”
I didn't want to believe Tyree cheated on me again. There was no way he would after he cried, begged for my forgiveness, and swore to me he'd never do it again. Karma had to be making it all up, but the way he said it, along with his body language almost had me convinced he was telling the truth.
“Jamar, look at me,” Tyree turned me around so that I was facing him.
“HE IS CRAZY! Don't believe anything he says. I'm telling you he's trying to break us up, because in his sick little mind he thinks he's going to be with you.”
“FUCK YOU, TYREE. YOU KNOW I'M TELLING THE TRUTH. YOU CHEAT ON HIM EVERY CHANCE YOU GET. YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”
I couldn't take it anymore, all of my backed up frustration since I caught Ebony and Tyree fucking resurfaced; and I took it out on Karma whether he was telling the truth or not. I pushed him so hard that he fell back and slid on the brand new shiny floor. While all of his photos flew up in the air and landed all over the floor. He jumped up fast and looked around to see if anyone saw what just happened.
“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, ALL YOU'RE TRYING TO DO IS CAUSE DRAMA!”
“OKAY, I'll LEAVE, BUT I WASN'T TRYING TO DO ANYTHING BUT SHOW YOU I REALLY LIKE YOU, AND HERE I PAID TO HAVE THESE MADE MYSELF!”
He handed me one of the photos, and then walked away look
ing sad and hurt. I looked down and it was the cover of our movie that we filmed together. I looked really hard with a gun pointing at him, and he looked innocent and sexy while on his knees looking up at me. He had them photo-shopped so there was a hotter background, and had a lot more color added. I had to admit it was definitely a hot picture. I started to pick them all up since he left them there and I felt bad, but the guys in the club were already taking them for themselves. Tyree and I were quiet the rest of the night. I put on a fake smile each time someone asked to take a picture with me. My high was gone and I just wanted to go home. Finally our time was up, so we picked up our envelopes full of cash from the manager, and got out of there. Tyree was quiet, and played sleep on the ride home, which made me think he was guilty and lied to me about fucking Karma.
“Why are you so quiet?”
“I'm tired it's been a long day.”
“So that was wild, Karma showing up at the club like that, huh?”
“More like weird, stay away from him, he's nothing but trouble.”
“It's funny you're telling me to stay away from him, when you're the one that's hung out with him a few times.”
He didn't say anything else. I started to leave it alone, but I really wanted to know.
“So did you fuck Karma? Be honest, and tell me the truth.”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? I ALREADY TOLD YOU THE TRUTH AT THE CLUB! I GUESS YOU’RE STARTING TO BELIEVE HIM OVER ME NOW!”
“Why are you yelling? I just asked you a question.”
“Because you should've forgotten about that at the club; but since I fucked up one time, you’re always going to think I'm lying, and cheating on you. What kind of person do you think I am?”
I didn't bother to reply. I already knew how the conversation would go. I'd tell him how I felt, he'd tell me how I was wrong for feeling that way, and that I needed to start trusting him again. He was right though, I was always going to be paranoid that he was cheating on me. He's fine and I notice how so many other fine men and beautiful woman checked him out on a daily basis. I can only imagine how often he gets hit on when he's by himself. It doesn't help that he slipped up once before. Once we got home he asked me to roll us a blunt while he took a shower. My initial reaction was to say, “I'm good” and go to bed, but when I looked up and he was holding his bulge, all while giving me that irresistible smile of his I couldn't say anything but “Okay”. I rolled up an extra fat blunt because I needed to clear my head and forget about the things Karma accused Tyree of. He came back in living room in just a towel knowing I would want nothing more than to lick and suck all over his smooth flawless body, and that's exactly what I did.
PORN STARS... More Than Just Moans Page 43
