A terrified-to-move Keisha watched, not knowing what to do next. After blazing up and hitting it twice, he let the blunt hang between his lips as he went over to the back door. Taking the chain off and unlocking the two deadbolts, he pushed the black iron gate open.
“Kilo, Kilo . . . here boy.” He whistled.
What is he doing? I need to get away!
Keisha tried running into the bedroom and locking the door but couldn’t in time. Rico was on her trail, with Kilo now barking beside him. Not having to use much force, he thrust the door open. Raising his arm, he backhanded Keisha, causing her to fall across their bed. Watching her cry while still trying to explain, he grabbed both her legs, dragging her to the end of the mattress.
“Don’t move, bitch, or I swear I’ll kill you.” Swinging the closet door open, he took out a handful of belts. “Move, Kilo—move!” He kicked at the dog, which was under foot. Connecting two belts into one, he used them to tie Keisha’s legs open on each footpost.
Taking his gun out of his waistband, Rico set it on top of the dresser, prompting Keisha to believe he was going to kill her for real this time.
“Rico, please, please, please! Don’t shoot me, Rico, don’t,” she pleaded, raising up, trying to stop him. Instantly, his fist met her in her left eye and another backhand.
“Shoot you? Come on now, trick. You ain’t worth my bullets,” Rico proclaimed as she lay bruised and battered. “I got something better in store for your non-loyal ass. Something you’ll never forget.”
With Keisha’s legs stretched out, Rico leaned over, taking the lamp off the nightstand. Removing the teal-colored shade, tossing it to the side, he clicked on the light. “That shit you did was real fucked up.” Holding the bright, heated bulb near Keisha’s lower body, he could easily see the passion marks A.J. had obviously left along with her swollen cunt. “You and that nigga got me twisted. I let him get some head, and as soon as I was gone, y’all played me like I ain’t shit.” Rico was yelling as saliva spewed out. “Well, guess what, slut? Since your slick ass like head so much, I’m about to hook you up.”
“Rico, I’m sorry,” she pleaded as he set the lamp back on the nightstand. “Please, baby, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? That you played me as soon as my back was turned?”
“I’m sorry I let him do that.”
“Yeah, right, Keisha. Who you playing mind games with? You liked that bullshit.”
“No. I swear I didn’t.”
“Whatever, bitch. I know you a freak.”
“Rico, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was just in the kitchen cooking.”
“Yeah, right, then all of a sudden his head just managed to slip between your legs.”
“It wasn’t like that, Rico. I swear it wasn’t like that.”
“You wanna embarrass a nigga so bad and disrespect me all over getting that stankin’ cat licked? Well, I got something real proper for that ass.”
Re-lighting his blunt, he called Kilo over to the edge of the bed. Grabbing him by the collar, he led his nose and mouth to Keisha’s exposed cunt. Within no time, Kilo was going in on the pussy. Using his long, pink-and-red tongue, he slurped up and down from the top of her clit to her open asshole. She had not taken a shower after sexing Swazy and A.J.. Kilo licked both of their scents off Keisha’s shaking body. She was scared the animal was going to eat her pussy whole and tried not to move despite the strange, demented pleasure she was starting to feel.
Rico knew his woman and knew what kind of facial expressions she’d make when she was really into it. This ho feeling this freaked-out bullshit! Sitting back with his iPhone, recording the whole tripped-out thing, he started coaching her from the sideline.
“You like that shit, don’t you, Keisha? Don’t you?”
“Nooo . . . ” She moaned, desperately trying to fight the feeling. “Please, Rico, make him stop.”
“Yes you do, bitch. Don’t lie.” He inhaled more of the blunt, bugging out on Kilo going in like a porno star getting paid. “You like his ass licking that stankin’ motherfucker. Say it, Keisha. Say it. I can tell. I know you.”
In denial, biting the side of her hand as her toes curled was the only thing keeping Keisha from yelling out “Yes!” The more Kilo sucked, licked, and tongue-fucked her hairy, soaking wet hole, the more she couldn’t take it. In a strange fit of ecstasy, using both hands, she reached down, holding both sides of the dog’s huge head. Gyrating both wide hips, Keisha met Kilo’s every sloppy, foaming-at-the-mouth tongue stroke until she finally exploded, having multiple orgasms. As her legs appeared to have convulsions, Keisha exhaled. Kilo, on the other hand, had never tasted a woman’s pussy and wasn’t done yet. With his small, red penis poking in and out at a fast rate, Kilo was in pure dog heaven.
Sinisterly amused by Keisha’s constant pleas to make the animal stop, Rico let his four-legged best friend keep going in on the now creamy twat until he got tired on his own. Still holding his cell phone recording, Rico knew exactly what other type of true punishment he was gonna inflict on Keisha for her sexual betrayal, especially since she seemed to get so much satisfaction out of Kilo giving her head.
Chapter Seven
It was almost six thirty in the morning when Keisha was awakened by Rico, drunk and high, stumbling in the house and passing out cold on the couch. Having untied her legs after realizing he’d left, she’d taken a long, scorching hot shower, desperately trying to scald away her freakish sins. Some, she’d voluntarily committed, and in others, she was forced to participate. Whatever the case was, her conscience was kicking her ass far worse than Rico, in the flesh, ever had done.
Lying in the same bed he’d let the dog violate her in, part of Keisha wanted to get a butcher knife and stab it straight through Rico’s back. Another part of Keisha’s brain was urging her to go heat up that same grease he’d threatened to burn her with and let him see how it felt. Lastly, the once-good-girl ethics she was raised with encouraged her to just tiptoe out the door with the clothes on her back and get as far away from Rico Campbell as humanly possible. Getting to work on time, if at all, was out of the question. Mentally, not to mention her battered and bruised face, Keisha knew she couldn’t make it, so she sat still.
Interrupting her mind fighting with her demons, she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, Keisha ignored it. Five minutes later, it rang again, and every two minutes after that.
What could be so important? She dragged her body out of bed and over to the stool that sat by the dresser. Finding her purse wide open and sitting on the floor instead of the stool where it usually sat didn’t mean anything to her at that point. Rico had probably been in there stealing her loose change as he typically did when broke.
Sixteen missed calls, seven voice messages, and eleven texts! What in the hell? Keisha didn’t know which one of the alerts to respond to first. Before she could get a chance to hit the small neon green envelope-shaped icon on her cell and read one of the eleven texts, the phone rang again. Seeing it was her friend Kim on the screen, she immediately pushed TALK.
“Hey, girl, what’s going on?” Keisha, weak and mentally drained, was groggy. “What’s up?”
Screaming through the phone, Kim’s voice annoyingly seemed to echo throughout the room. “What’s up? What in the hell you mean what’s up? Have you lost your damn mind? What’s wrong with you?”
“Huh?” Keisha, nursing a major headache, was taken aback, not knowing what her friend was talking about.
“Don’t ‘huh’ me, bitch. I know you and that stupid-ass creep you deal with is off into some ridiculous bullshit, but you done crossed the line. Who does that?”
“Does what, Kim? Crossed the line?” Keisha was still puzzled, running her fingers through her tangled hair. “Crossed what line? What is you talking about? Tell me.”
“Why in the fuck would you send that mess to my fucking email and text? Who in the hell does that, and matter of fact, where they do that
ratchet shit at?” Kim was going hard in the paint on her once close but recently distant best friend. “You need help. Both of y’all retarded motherfuckers do. Have you spoken to your father? I know he pissed.”
Before Keisha could get some true clarity in what Kim was referring to, her other end rang. “Wait, Kim, wait,” she begged. “This is my job on the other end probably wondering where I’m at.”
Clicking over before Kim could say another word, Keisha tried using a super-soft voice to maybe buy her a sick day. “Yes—hello.”
“Good morning. Keisha Jackson?” the office manager firmly inquired.
“Yes, this is she.” Keisha coughed twice, trying to make it sound good.
“Well, Miss Jackson, this is a courtesy call to inform you that we no longer are in need of your services here as of this morning.”
“But I—” Keisha was on her way to try to negotiate when she was cut off.
“In light of the disrespectful circumstances and the morality policy in your signed contract, we will mail your personal belongings along with your final paycheck. You are no longer allowed on company premises. Is that understood?”
“Excuse me?” Keisha rubbed her nappy head, confused. “I know I’ve missed more than my fair share of days, but is it customary to mail a person’s belongings?”
The office manager was trying to keep it brief and not get off into sordid details, but she felt that woman to woman, she had to set Keisha straight. “Miss Jackson, although your work here is very impressive to say the least, when an employee or any individual sends the type of group email to the entire staff like you did, one would really think you’d be much too embarrassed to even show your face! Now, have a good day.”
Clicking back over, Keisha was met by Kim still nutting up.
“Why, girl? Why? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Listen, Kim, please slow the hell down and tell me what you’re talking about. My manager just called tripping too. I’m confused.”
It dawned on Kim at that point Keisha wasn’t playing dumb; she really didn’t know what was going on. “Okay, girl, did you send me an email and a text late last night?”
“Last night?” Embarrassed to tell her what she was really doing, or had done to her, last night, Keisha just answered no. “I’ve been ’sleep since last night since we got back from the concert.”
“Well, check your sent box on your email account while I hold on.” Kim waited for her friend to check using the other screen of her Android cell.
“Oh my fucking God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh, no! Oh my God!” Keisha started screaming, running from one side of the room to the other on ten. “Naw, naw, naw. Oh my God! Naw. Why? Why? Oh my God!”
Kim could hear the shock in her girl’s voice and knew she obviously didn’t mean to send her that should-be-private bullshit.
“Kim, Kim, Kim, I can’t believe he would do that. Why would he? How could he? Oh my God.” Keisha discovered that not only did Kimberly receive a video of Kilo giving her head in the bed, but every single person in her cell contact list and Gmail account had too. “I can’t believe this. Oh my God!”
Distraught, Keisha started to think about each person that must’ve gotten the shocking, perverted freak peep show by now.
My mother! My Father! My Uncle Samuel! Shit . . . All the people at work! My little cousin! All my former classmates! Damn, the people at the temp agency! Shit! Shit! Shit! Oh my fucking God! The entire church youth group I used to belong to! How fucking could he do this to me? How?” Feeling nauseated and sick to her stomach, Keisha started to hyperventilate.
“Keisha! Keisha! Listen to me! Keisha!” Kim tried her best to calm her down over the phone. “You need to just get your clothes and come on over here. Leave that grimy lunatic. You done did enough charity work on his bum behind. I told you he wasn’t about jack shit. Leave that ho-ass lame.”
“I know.” Keisha pushed her hand close, holding her chest while trying to catch her breath. “I am. I swear I am. I just gotta handle something first; then I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”
“Before you go, I need to tell you something else.” Kim knew Keisha was going to go even more bananas; however, she knew she had to expose the whole truth. “That slimeball put that shit on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and damn YouTube. I reported the garbage and got it took down and removed as soon as I saw it, but it ain’t no telling how many motherfuckers seen it. I swear you better leave that nut. If you don’t, just forget my damn number. I mean it. Don’t even call me anymore with ya Rico drama.”
Wanting to curl up in a ball and die, Keisha’s mind was telling her to just end it all. How could she face anyone she knew again? Detroit was big, but it wasn’t that big. Even if she tried to stay out the way, nine outta ten she’d run into somebody sometime that knew somebody that knew something about what Rico had made her do—let Kilo eat her out.
Spending the next ten tormenting minutes listening to “shocked, angry, amazed and extremely disappointed in her” voice messages and reading the same sentiment in every text, Keisha felt her heart sink to the floor every time she’d push erase.
“Oh my goodness Keisha how could you?” Her mother uncontrollably cried. “How could you? Baby, you need help—some spiritual guidance! I’m praying for you!”
“Girl, you out cold!” Cousin Greg laughed all the while leaving his message. “A dog? You out cold, cuz! You wildin’!”
“You need to have your head examined! You need to be ashamed of yourself!” one of her former classmates, baffled at what she’d viewed, yelled out. “Why would you send this despicable trash to me and the rest of the girls in the reunion committee? Needless to say, you’re off the committee! Most likely to succeed? Yeah, right!”
“Damn, Keisha, it’s like that? A fucking dog? You straight tripping!” a guy who’d she met at one of her temp jobs commented through his laughter. “I seen that shit on your Facebook page too!”
“Take my number out your phone!” one person after another angrily demanded.
All her family, friends, colleagues, and just random folk she knew whose contact information was in her cell responsed to the outrageous video Rico posted. It had Keisha’s head pounding like it was on the verge of exploding. Lastly, and most heartwrenchingly, she repeatedly listened to the one left by her father.
“Keisha, I don’t know what your mother and I have done to you to make you treat us both so disrespectfully. Why send this type of filth to us?” His voice cracked with each passing word. “We raised you better than this. Your poor mother is devastated. Your uncle and all your cousins apparently received the same email. She’s embarrassed, and so am I.” The humiliation he felt for his daughter and the person whom she’d obviously become since leaving his strict household was almost unbearable for him to accept. “Maybe that hot-headed, no-good fool has you on drugs or something. I don’t know. But I do know, from this point on, you are no longer a part of this family. If you thought I was playing before, you can rest assured, I’m extremely serious now! Please, Keisha, don’t contact your mother or myself ever again. You’ve hurt us both enough for two lifetimes. I’m glad I didn’t acknowledge you last night. You are an utter disgrace. I warned you it would be a couple of cold days in hell before you stepped back inside of my household, but now hell could freeze over!”
Having had enough of Rico and his spiteful, selfish actions, Keisha slipped her sore body into a tracksuit. Lacing up her Air Max, she stood in front of the mirror, getting a good look at what she once believed to be her beautiful face, which was now bruised and seemed to have aged five years since starting her relationship with Rico.
Hell bent on revenge, she eased over toward the other side of the room with the least noise possible. Pressing her ear against the door, she listened for any movement from Rico in the living room. Hearing none except for his snores, she cracked open the bedroom door. Tiptoeing like a panther, she focused on her “man,” fast asleep on the couch. Keisha’s eyes qu
ickly scanned the room to find a weapon to use.
This nigga gonna pay! Right fucking now! Wrapping her hands around a small-in-size-but-heavy-in-weight African warrior statue she’d bought from a festival at Hart Plaza that past summer and a butcher knife from the kitchen, Keisha snuck up on a sleeping Rico.
The Night Before . . .
All of a sudden she wanna think for herself—make moves on her own? That ugly ho got a lot of nerve letting that country-Bama big nigga eat that stankin’ pussy without my permission—freak bitch! If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be big as a house and green to the streets!
Convinced he was about to do no wrong, Rico downloaded the scandalous video he’d just taken on his cell, sending it to Keisha’s. Walking around the bed where his woman was still tied to the footpost, passed out cold from exhaustion, Rico removed her purse off the stool. Rambling through it, he found her phone, along with a couple of twenty-dollar bills wrapped around the ticket stubs from the concert the night before. After stuffing the money in his back pocket, he touched the envelope icon on her cell, bringing up her already-read text messages.
Not the slight bit interested in being nosey and reading the old texts from her inbox, he pushed RETRIEVE, downloading the one he’d just sent. Saving the media file, he then forwarded the unbelievable 2:21 minutes he’d labeled We’re Getting Married! to every contact in her phonebook, as well as her email account. Next, he put the scandalous, soon-to-be infamous film on Facebook, YouTube, and any other social media site he could think of.
Let’s see the next time this dumb ho think for herself! She called herself getting down on me; well, the last laugh is fucking mine! This shit gonna hit WorldStar quick, fast, and in a hurry! Tossing her cell back in her purse and throwing it onto the floor, Rico left the bedroom. Grabbing several pieces of fried chicken Keisha had left on a plate on the stove and another Red Bull, he was out the door—gun in waist.
A Big Girl's Revenge Page 8
