Brooklyn Brothel (9 page)

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Authors: C. Stecko

BOOK: Brooklyn Brothel
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“Hey honey,” I cooed into the phone.

“Mommy, when are you coming to get me?” he asked with disbelief in his voice. “Daddy said you keep telling me lies.”

“Oh no, baby. Mommy got a good job, and will be there to get you soon.”

I wanted to make a few phone calls to my prison connections and have Dre dealt with. Carlton was just a young boy, and shouldn’t have to be in the middle of his parent’s feud. I told him I loved him a hundred times when I heard his daddy in the background, yellin’ for him to go to bed. When I hung up, that one call made me determined to stay on my grind. I got motivated and knew I had to stick this shit out for the rest of the week.

I thanked Sasha for the use of her phone. She really did have money. She had everything; a cell phone, the flyest clothes, and all the latest electronics. Plus, she seemed to be someone I could lean on.

“Sasha, this might sound crazy, so hear me out first. Do you think it would be dumb for me to dis Bo?

“Dis’em how?”

“I’ve decided not to give Bo any of the money I made.”

“Now, that’s gangsta,” she laughed.

“No seriously…you think it’s crazy?”

“No, I don’t,” she said in a more serious tone.

“Good, ’cause I’m gonna cut out with his loot.”

“Now what’s your plan?”

“I really don’t have one.” I giggled. “When that nigga shows up at the bus station to pick me up, I won’t be there. Neither will the money.” I laughed like crazy, then turned to Sasha. “Thanks for listenin’.” I smiled.

When she pulled out a pair of black clippers it shocked me. “Let me do one more thing for you.”

“What’s that?” I asked with a puzzled expression.
Does this bitch think she’s at the barbershop or some shit
, I thought.

“I know you been having problems down below.”

“Oh, no that’s okay. I’m straight now,” I said proudly.

“Well, you never can be too sure. Let me just shave it
bald for you. It’ll make you feel fresh and look real fly, too.”

I was already half fucked up from the drinks so gettin’ a pussy shave didn’t matter. Sasha took full control. She turned the power on allowin’ the buzzin’ sound of the clippers to fill the room. She stopped for a moment and shot me a crazy look. It took me a few seconds to realize she wanted me to take my thong off.

I slipped off my thong, then Sasha raised my legs with ease givin’ her the perfect access to shave me bald. It was weird, but felt good to have her down there. With my pussy laid on the sheets for her to see, Sasha commented on how beautiful my shit looked. I was feelin’ tipsy, so I just laughed it off.

When she was done with the shave, she turned the clippers off, but kept her same position between my legs. She started caressin’ my thighs, then massagin’ my legs, makin’ me feel like I was somethin’ special, not just some hoe. Sasha tilted her body into an upward position so that her lips met my tits. Gradually, she slid my bra straps down my shoulders, makin’ sure she exposed my nipples. She started lickin’ my body like somethin’ out of a porn video, and suckin’ all ova my belly button. I knew the night was movin’ in the wrong direction. However, the fact remained, that it felt too damn good to stop her.

Sasha was turnin’ me on like crazy; especially when she slid up to my lips and tongued me deep in my throat. She smelled good, like a sweet peach, which surprisingly made me wet, real wet. Without warnin’, she scooted her way down to my masterpiece and spread my lips. I could feel my clit jumpin’ around anticipatin’ the blessin’ it was about to receive. I laid there with my legs spread wide open like I was about to give birth. Soon, Sasha was drillin’ me with her tongue. The feelin’ was somethin’ I’d neva felt before. Not from Bo, not from any man. Not from anybody.

Next thing I knew, I slapped myself in the mouth tryna drown out the sounds from my first orgasm of the night. When it was all said and done, she stayed between my legs until I had bust well ova three nuts. That night, we fell asleep in each otha’s arms, which was a weird situation, but felt damn good.

Chapter 7

The next mornin’
I woke up to both gigglin’ and yellin’. Serita had come to the room as usual to wake up a few of the girls who had trouble wakin’ up and gettin’ themselves together before the 11:45 bell. She wasn’t happy about what she saw. Sasha was still in my bed ass-naked and had her arms wrapped around my waist. We were both in the fetal position until I heard my name being called. I jumped up, and shook Sasha a few times until she finally woke up. Serita stormed out of the room, while the otha girls belted out mean comments.

“Tricks will be tricks,” Darla announced. “Damn, Salt and Pepper fuckin’ now,” another belted.

Cinnamon, who was already dressed looked highly disappointed in me. She turned away, grabbed her purse, and left the room without sayin’ one word. I remained stuck, frozen, with the sheet pulled up around my neck. I was too ashamed to lift myself from the bed without any clothes on. As I searched the floor with my eyes lookin’ for my dress from last night, Sasha hopped up ass-naked like everythin’ was cool. Her breasts shook out in the open and her smooth skin flaunted openly for everyone to see. Again, the snickers from across the room shamed me.

“Fuck them,” Sasha said loudly.

I glanced ova to see everyone fleein’ from the room. Sasha didn’t talk a lot, but when she spoke most people listened. While we got dressed, she rattled on about her plan. She told me that she had a lot of money saved and could help
me get Carlton back. She said she was about to get her daughter from her mother, and together we could have a good life.

In my mind, I started repeatin’ the ridiculous word,
together
. She said after I got my money from Betty I could just leave with her. When I told her I would think about it, she snapped.

“Didn’t you enjoy last night?” she barked.

“Ah…yeah.”

“Well, what’s the problem? I can make you feel good like that all the time.”

Her voice was sharp, and unwelcomin’. I needed some space. “Last night was good, Sasha, I just need time to think. That’s it,” I said, headin’ to the shower.

She seemed a little exasperated by my response. “I need to know by tonight!” she shouted, while angrily throwing her clothes around in her suitcase.

I took my time washin’ my pussy and all in the cracks where Sasha’s tongue had played, hoping she would forget about what happened with us. As soon as I stepped from the shower, a nightmare stood waitin’ to happen. She looked angry, like she wanted to kick my ass. Betty was in my doorway.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t bring that dyke shit up in here!” she told us all.

I stood drippin’ wet with my towel wrapped tightly around me. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. But when Sasha spoke up being real cocky, we all looked surprised.

“Look, we’re two grown adults. We didn’t fuck on your time and didn’t make you lose any money. So now what?” Her eyes took Betty head on.

I guess Betty knew Sasha didn’t have a pimp, so she targeted me personally.

“Just what if I called Bo, and told him about your lil’
freaky, twisted-ass rendezvous. You already in hot water, girl!”

“Call’em,” I said, tryna be strong. “It’ll probably turn’em on. And he might want me to bring Sasha back with me.”

My comment had Betty at a loss for words. She turned and left when Maria walked back in. Maria was a Spanish chick from Texas who had talked to me for the first time yesterday. She loved to speak Spanish behind Betty’s back callin’ her all kinds of sluts and otha foul names. She gave me a high-five and asked me if I would pin her hair up when she got out the shower.

“Sure I will,” I said, tryna find my best outfit for the day. With three days left, this had to be a big money day for me.

“Maria’s a big girl. She can do her own hair,” Sasha blurted out in a nasty tone.

“But she asked me to do it.” I held my palms open, wonderin’ what was the big deal.

“Then you do it,” she snapped, and stormed from the room.

I had the deer stuck in headlights look on my face. “What the hell is wrong with her?” I asked Maria.

Maria had her hands on her hips. “Girl, you gave her the coochie, that’s what’s wrong. You don’t ever give another chick your goods, ’cause they all get possessive, especially, white girls.”

“Oh, so she thinks I’m her girl now?”

“That’s what’s she’s telling everybody.”

“Oh, hell no…I gotta get this shit straight. I got a man,” I boasted. “Last night was just sex.”

“You better tell her that, ’cause your mouth must’ve told her something else. Better yet, don’t touch my hair. You probably haven’t washed your hands yet anyway,” she joked.

Nothin’ was funny to me. Nothin’ at all. I thought about what I had said to Sasha to make her think we were a couple all of a sudden. Then I remembered. When I was cummin’ about the third or fourth time, I did say, “Damn girl…I think I love you.”

Again, I got hit with another crazy expression from Maria. Our friendship was gonna be shot all for a quick nut or two. I wanted to kick myself.
Here I go again, makin’ bad decisions
, I told myself.

Half the day passed by, and I was back in line for the third time of the day. My red ensemble was a hell’u’va choice. The red fish-net stockings, and next to nothin’, boy shorts allowed my butt cheeks to hang out, which made me just as scrumptious as a piece of red velvet cake. I stood real cocky-like with my red bustier front and center for the new guy to see. I made sure I stood at the complete opposite end from Sasha. She hadn’t said anything since the Maria ordeal, but she’d been throwin’ me shade ova the last couple of hours. I mouthed to her that we needed to talk. Just before her response could be made, a thin, brown-skinned gentleman with well defined muscles stopped in front of me. I smiled widely after he chose me, then led him to the third room to my left, as he introduced himself as Muhammed. He reminded me of someone, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew I loved muscular black men with beards. His was sorta too long and bushy, but it was kinda turnin’ me on.

“Are you a Muslim?” I asked.

“Are you a housewife?” he responded.

We laughed together while I squeezed the skin on his upper body tryin’ to see if he was as firm as he looked. I could tell he worked out and that he was in his late twenties.
No lines, or wrinkles around his eyes or hands. As we walked to our assigned room, I rubbed all ova his body just a lil’ more, then made my way down to his crotch. Surprisingly, he was already rock hard.

Muhammed told me up front that he wanted the works, yet didn’t have a lot of cash. He opened up a black bag that revealed tons of fine jewelry. He admitted to robbin’ a jewelry store some weeks ago and offered me jewelry in exchange for sex.

“I need some cash,” I said, obviously slightly interested in the jewelry.

“I got a hundred and fifty. You can choose a piece of jewelry to cover the rest.”

While I thought about his offer, Muhammed dumped all the pieces onto the bed.

My eyes were blinded by sparklin’ diamonds, colored emeralds, 18 carat gold chains, and a fine set of white pearls. Pearls had a special place in my heart. They reminded me of my mother. It was the only thing that her mother, my grandmother, had left her. She’d inherited them from a rich woman that she worked for back in the 40’s and told my mother to pass them on to me when I got of age. Of course, I neva got’em.

“I’ll take these,” I announced, gazin’ at the long pearl necklace.

“Damn…you got good taste lady. I need some head, some ass licking and everything for that.”

I laughed and told him for the head I wanted the gold chain too, for my son.

Muhammed nodded and slipped his shoes off his feet. It was crazy ’cause all of a sudden it came to me; he reminded me of the rapper Ja Rule with a long, thick beard.

I started to undress him seductively by liftin’ his shirt ova his head. His abs were incredible, so appealin’. I wanted
to lick his mid-section. I unfastened his belt, and allowed his pants to fall to the floor. I dropped to the floor, grabbin’ at his erect penis and sucked him off for the next five minutes. When he came, he squirted like an out of control water gun. I felt pleased with my work, ’cause Muhammed’s eyes had rolled to the back of his head.

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