It's Like Candy (5 page)

The man continued to thrust into her while he grunted and panted, sweating freely over her body. Blood oozed down Starr's bare thighs, and she had never felt so disgusted. The man who pounded his dick repeatedly into her for ten minutes had to be in his late forties.

“Damn, you so tight. I never had it so tight,” he proclaimed as he huffed. He clutched her bedsheet tightly and shouted, “I'm coming!”

Moments later he pulled out his dick and ejaculated across her stomach.

There was a loud knock at the door. “Baby, your time is almost up!” Sheryl shouted, “You got five more minutes.”

“I'm already done,” he said.

When Sheryl walked into the room, he was already fastening his pants. She saw Starr still lying in bed with the sheets pulled over her head and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

The man looked at Sheryl with beads of sweat still across his fore-head, and stated, “Best piece of pussy that I ever paid for. She was definitely worth the five hundred.”

“You wanna fuck me next?” she asked.

“Nah, I gotta go. But next time I'll take you up on your offer.” He walked by Sheryl and strutted down the stairs and quickly made his way out the door.

Sheryl turned to look at Starr, who was still lying with the sheets over her head.

“Starr, baby, get up,” Sheryl said. “It wasn't that bad. You became a woman tonight. We made some good money, too.”

Starr didn't respond. Her crying was loud and pained.

Sheryl went over to the bed and took a seat by her daughter's side. She began rubbing her daughter's ankle and said to her, “Starr, everything's gonna be okay. Believe me, Starr, your pussy is gonna make you rich one day. Sometimes, what we got between our legs is all we need to get by. These niggahs out here will continue to pay for some pussy until the day they die. You use that to get ahead. A woman should never be broke in this world. Now suck it up, and get over it. The worst is finally over. You know what dick feels like, so get used to it. We gonna get paid.”

Starr suffered sexual abuse from her mother for two years until, like her father and her older sister before her, she finally reached her boiling point, too.

She had been fourteen at the time, and it had been a hot spring
day. Starr was hardly in school anymore, because her mother had her turning tricks twenty-four/seven, and her mother saw school as getting in the way of business.

Sheryl had dropped out of school when she was fifteen, and she had so many men supporting her since a young age, that it became normal for her. She couldn't see living life any other way, for herself or her daughters.

Starr was in the kitchen making lunch when she heard her mother call out for her. She knew her mother was in her bedroom with a date because she heard them from the kitchen panting and raving. She grimaced at the thought of the man her mother was fucking. He was obese, bald, with nasty razor bumps and looked like his breath stank.

Starr ran to her mother's bedroom, where she saw her mother lying down naked on her bed. Her mother was still beautiful, even with a crack addiction. Her hair was no longer lengthy and graceful, but she'd become thinner during the past two years.

Starr looked over at the man who was in white shorts and a wife-beater. His skin was very hairy, and he was very unattractive. Just the sight of him made Starr's skin itch and her stomach turn. She knew her mother had fucked him, because the room reeked of sex.

“Now how much are you willing to pay?” her mother asked the man.

“Mother, no,” Starr said, fearing that her mother wanted her to fuck him.

“Starr, relax, it's not what you think,” she replied.

“For me to see that . . . I'll give you a thousand dollars right now,” the man said.

Sheryl smiled, and said, “Let me see the cash.”

The man went over to his pants and pulled out a large amount of money rolled together in a rubber band. “I got four grand here; this shows I'm good for it.”

Sheryl smiled generously, and removed herself from the bed. She
went up to her daughter, and said, “Take your clothes off.”

“What?”

“Starr, I said take your clothes off. And I'm not gonna tell you twice,” her mother chided.

Fearing her mother's wrath, Starr reluctantly began to get un-dressed. For fourteen, she was filling out beautifully in all the right areas. The chubby man lustfully gazed at her naked body and touched himself.

He stared at both mother and daughter standing stark naked in front of him and couldn't believe his eyes.

“You sure she's only fourteen?” he inquired.

“Yes,” Sheryl said. “Now pay up.”

He passed Sheryl the cash, and shortly afterward, she started to do the unthinkable. She pushed her daughter onto the bed, down on her back.

“Starr, spread your legs,” she instructed.

“Mama, are you serious? No!” Starr became defiant. But a hard slap across her face changed her sudden attitude.

“Bitch, he's paying us good money to see this. Now shut the fuck up and do as you're told,” her mother said.

Starr clutched the side of her face, teary-eyed. She felt her mother opening her legs. She tried to resist, but her mother struck her again, harder this time, drawing blood from her mouth. From the look in her mother's eyes, Starr knew she was high.

“Open your legs, Starr, before I beat the shit out of you,” she threatened.

As she sobbed, believing her mother's threats, Starr reluctantly opened her legs and lay down on her back. She felt her mother's hand run down her thighs, and she cried harder. Her legs quivered, she wanted to close them, but her mother was a madwoman.

Then she felt her mother's tongue enter her slowly, and felt her tongue swimming around in her. She cried out louder. She couldn't
believe that this was happening. It was wrong. Immoral. But for a thousand dollars, her mother didn't care. For this much cash, her mother had no limits.

Starr continued to lie there motionless with a river of tears rolling down her face. She looked up at the man who was paying to see this, and thought,
What kind of monster are you? How can you pay to see this? I hate you. I want you to die.

He smiled and gripped his four-inch dick in his hand and masturbated slowly as he looked on.

“Damn, I wish I had a camera,” he said.

Sheryl ate her daughter out with no remorse. It was as if she was with a stranger. Money was her only concern.

For ten dreadful minutes, Starr remained frozen, crying during the duration of the sexual act. When her mother was finally done, she just lay there, the pillow beneath her head soaked with tears. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. She wanted to die.

“Starr, get up. We got paid,” her mother said, donning a blue robe.

But Starr heard nothing, just silence and pain aching in her heart. She couldn't believe the ordeal she'd just gone through.

“Fine, then, lay there all day if you want. I got a thousand dollars on me and I'm gonna have me some fun,” her mother said, leaving the bedroom.

That was Starr's breaking point, and a week later, like her sister before her, she packed her bags and left home, never to return again.

 

“I'm coming!” her trick shouted
while he continued to thrust into Starr. “Shit, you got some good fuckin' pussy.”

Starr clutched the headrest to the front seat, and her other hand landed against the backseat, as she panted, snapping out of her day-dream.

“Come for me, baby,” she said.

“Aaaaaahhh, shit . . . damn . . . damn . . . shit!” he cried out, trembling as he came in Starr, then he fell back against the backseat, very well satisfied.

“You good?” Starr asked, pulling up her jeans.

“Hells, yeah. Yo, fo' real, Starr, your pussy is gonna make you a rich woman one day.”

“Please don't say that,” Starr said, suddenly offended.

“What? It's the truth. You definitely got some good shit. I'm gonna put your pussy up on Ebay and shit, make millions,” he joked.

“Would you shut up already?”

“Damn, what's your problem? I'm giving you a compliment.”

“Just don't!”

“Shit, you got the bomb pussy, and I'm being nice, and you actin' like a bitch about it. Your moms blessed you wit' a hell of a body. So what the fuck is your problem?”

“You know what . . . fuck you!” Starr cursed. She grabbed her things, quickly got out of the car, and strutted up the street. Her date looked on in surprise at her sudden reaction, shrugged it off, and went about his business.

As Starr made her way back to South Road, tears began to form in her eyes. It had been two years since she left home, and at sixteen she was doing what her mother taught her best,
how to use what you got to get what you want out of life.

“River, how much doe you got?”
Big Red asked. They were hidden away in Big Red's basement in East New York, where Red planted his thuggish ass every night after he came back from being out in the streets. It was one of the many safe houses for Red and Twinkie.

“I got two hundred,” River said, holding a bunch of wrinkled tens and twenties in her hand.

“What about you, Twinkie?” Big Red asked.

“I got a hundred,” Twinkie replied.

Big Red frowned. “Fuck this! We need to step this shit up. We only made about six hundred over the weekend. We're slippin' on makin' this money. Some of these dealers are gettin' wiser.”

Twinkie agreed. Between the three of them, that was two hundred apiece. And River couldn't deal with that. She didn't mind that Big Red and Twinkie were using her as bait to reel in these horny, lustful men who were drawn to her out on the track. But it needed to pay off, and the men they were going after barely had fifty dollars in their pockets. Red and Twinkie had to lay off the drug dealers for a minute and come up with a different game plan. So they targeted the tricks on the track.

Without River, Big Red and Twinkie's scam wouldn't exist. And she knew it, too, which was why she wanted more money, because she was taking all the risk by getting in the car with the strangers and allowing them to see her face, while Red and Twinkie always wore masks.

But she knew that her time would come. She'd settle for the two hundred now, an even split between the three partners. But in the future, it was going to be different for her. She wanted more money or she was out.

“River, you my girl, fo' real. You be hookin' these niggahs in lovely. Yo, that white boy, I thought money was gonna shit on him-self,” Big Red stated. “But yo, we need to step up our game a little, y'all feel me?”

“I feel you,” Twinkie agreed.

“Yo, some niggahs out on the track are getting hipped to our thang, and these pimp niggahs, they strapping up. But I ain't worry about that,” Red said. Big Red was huge, with a bald head and a dangerous mystique about him. He'd also had a crush on River for the longest time. They called him Big Red because of the small freckles that were plastered across his face.

“So what you thinkin' about?” Twinkie asked. Twinkie was Red's partner, his right hand, a ride-and-die hood niggah. They worked really well together. Twinkie, dark-skinned and with long braids, was a clean-shaven thug with piercing dark eyes and a constant scowl on his face. He owned many guns, and knew how to use them accurately if there was ever a problem to solve. A lot of men tried to tease him about his name, given to him by his deceased grandmother because her grandson had loved Twinkies so much when he was a kid. But Twinkie had shot at many who came at him about his name.

“Yo, River, I was thinkin', you a dime-ass bitch fo' real. You be havin' niggahs' nose wide opened and shit. You the baddest hoe on
the track,” Red said. River didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or what. But she sat there and listened.

“But yo, we can take you and get at these niggahs wit' the real money, I'm talking about hundreds of thousands and shit. You be a front, get to a niggah and make him trust you and shit. I'm mean, we gonna take our time wit' this, instead of rushing to get paid for a quick dollar. We gonna study your marks and find out where they live, what kind of cars they drive, and shit. You know what I'm say in'? You fuck wit' the niggah and get the rundown on him and shit, his house, cars, how much he's banking in his account, shit like that. You know what I'm sayin'? Word, River, you know a niggah gonna spend doe on you. You know that pussy sells. You know what I'm sayin'?”

“Yo, I feel ya on that one, Red . . . fo' real,” Twinkie agreed. “That's what I'm talkin' about. That platinum money.”

“So, you ready to step up, River?” Red asked.

“Niggah, whatever.” River replied dryly.

“Yo, girl, you gotta be excited ‘bout this, you know what I'm sayin'? I mean, you gotta show interest in a niggah, make him believe you like him and shit. You gotta be believable that you wanna fuck a niggah. Shit, if it comes down to it, fuck the niggah to make it real.”

River sighed.

“I'm tryin' to get this money, make this shit long-term and shit. I ain't tryin' to live like some broke niggah. Y'all feel me?”

“That's what's up,” Twinkie uttered.

“So, when we gonna start this?” River asked.

“Shit, this week. I already know a niggah we can hit right now,” Big Red informed them.

“Who?” Twinkie asked.

“Some cornball niggah, who likes to floss and thinkin' he a big bailer. I been watchin' him. But I know he stacking paper. I used to go to school wit' the niggah. He hustling, but I know pussy is his weakness.”

“Let's get this money,” Twinkie shouted, rising and giving Red dap.

River's beeper went off, catching her attention. She glanced at the number, and then said, “I gotta go.” She raised herself up out of her seat and headed for the door.