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Authors: NOIRE,Kiki Swinson

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BOOK: Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless
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2
 
T
he streets of Manhattan were live and poppin’ in the springtime, but Noble was a Crooklyn boy at heart. Brooklyn was his borough, his home. Noble had come up in East New York, the only son of a pawnshop owner. His mother had been a schoolteacher back in the day, but she’d been killed while working with her sister in Guatemala when Noble was just three. The two women had been out for an early morning jog when they were struck by a hit-and-run driver and left on the side of the road to die.
Noble’s father had been a neighborhood fence with a smoove legitimate front, and as a tyke Noble had spent countless hours marveling at the treasures that desperate people hocked in exchange for the cool green cash his father never seemed to run out of.
Bam Browne had been a man about his bizz, and he’d taught his only son the value of money—and its potential for growth—at a very early age. As a result, Noble had developed a jones for precious metals back in the eighties, and he hadn’t stopped investing in them yet.
“This is for you,” Bam had told seven-year-old Noble one day as he handed the boy a heavy box with a burgundy crushed-velvet top. Ever since he was five Noble had helped inventory and chronicle the shop’s merchandise, and he was always fascinated by the guns, jewelry, and other valuable items that people traded for pennies on the dollar each day.
Young Noble’s eyes had lit up as whatever was inside the box clanged and jangled beneath the lid. He’d been all smiles when he flipped the top open and found a huge jumble of forks, knives, and spoons that someone had pawned for a fraction of their worth, then failed to come buy back within the allotted time.
Staring into the box full of silverware that had probably belonged to some dope fiend’s great-grandmother, Noble listened closely as his father explained that he could either keep the property as a souvenir, or sell it and put the money into his savings account.
“I wanna sell it,” Noble had declared the moment his father finished talking. “I wanna sell it, but I don’t wanna put the money in my savings account, Daddy.”
At first Bam had balked. “I thought I taught you better than that. You got a chance to get your hands on some real money and right off you wanna run out and spend it?”
Noble had shaken his head quickly.
“I don’t wanna spend it, Daddy,” he had assured Bam. “I wanna invest it.”
“Invest it in what?” Bam had asked. And Noble, with his eyes glinting as he stared down into the crushed velvet box that held the keys to his future, said simply, “Gold, Daddy. I wanna buy me some gold.”
 
Over the years Bam had taken great pleasure in passing his son various items of forfeited property and watching what the boy did with them. He was proud of the way Noble studied the pawned goods that were brought into his shop, assessing their value with a young, critical eye. Bam began learning about the financial markets just so he could explain the world’s monetary system to young Noble, and it made him grin when, instead of buying a bike or some new sneakers with the money he earned, his son jumped on lucrative investment opportunities, usually in precious metals like silver and gold.
By the time Noble was fifteen he had a gold bar stash that was more valuable than most of the houses in their neighborhood, which to Bam’s dismay was going downhill fast. Crack was king on the streets of Brooklyn, and even the police were scared to go head-up against the violent drug gangs that the gutters were breeding everywhere.
Bam no longer trusted the security of the large safe that was installed at his shop, so he recruited two of his homeboys to strap up and accompany him and Noble as they transported the boy’s precious metals to a local bank where he opened Noble’s very first safety deposit box.
As the years passed Noble had opened up many other boxes at many other banks. He was caked up, and not just in metals that the government couldn’t trace, but in corporate stocks and bonds too.
The next move on his chessboard was to find himself a good ruby. A woman who was special enough to bear the Browne seed and carry his name. Bam was sick, and he wasn’t getting any better. Noble wanted to give his father a grandchild while he could still enjoy one.
He figured he was ready to settle down and get wifed up. He was planning to whip out a ring and propose to a special somebody on his thirtieth birthday, but the woman he chose was gonna have to be more than fine. She was gonna have to be worthy. A chick who wanted him not for the stash he had amassed, but strictly for his love. So, outta all the chicks he’d stripped and dipped over the years, Noble had finally narrowed it down to three girls in particular.
Zsa Zsa, Kiki, and Malisha. Each of these women had something about them that kept Noble’s nose open, but the problem was it was way too hard to choose. All three of the honeys were neck-and-neck in the runnings. Beauty and booty wasn’t an issue. These girls had it straight locked on the outside, but figuring out the truth about their insides was gonna take some time and some skill.
Noble felt like the chosen niggah on a game show. It was daytime TV drama up in his camp, and his mission was to solve the puzzle, spin the wheel, or roll the fuckin’ dice. There was no way around it. If he wanted to find a quality jewel, he was gonna have to dig deep in the dirt. Noble was gonna have to pull back the curtains on his triangle of honeys. He was gonna have to take a nice long peep behind door number one, door number two, and door number three.
3
 
“G
ood morning, Officer Noble ...” The cute little gap-legged chick giggled a merry tune as her body flowed across Noble’s intersection like warm molasses. It was a bright Monday morning and her name was Glorious. She had beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous dark-chocolate skin. She wore a white tank top and a pair of red crotch-choker jeans that accentuated her curvy waist and magnificently shaped ass. She grinned and tossed her long mane of curly hair, then winked and gave Noble a hungry, mischievous look.
“S’up, baby,” Noble said, and with his whistle clenched between his teeth, he grinned right back. And grinning was all he did too. He knew this girl well. He had banged her a few times before he settled on the three honeys he was currently seeing, and as fine as this chick was, Noble was glad he had left her ass alone.
Glorious was a freak. In more ways than one. She’d put marks on Noble’s body that he would take to his grave. Glorious worked the counter at a designer perfume store right up the street, and she had a body so spectacular that the first time Noble saw her he had blown his whistle, held his hand high in the air, and stopped traffic in both directions just so he could watch her cross the street without slowing her stroll.
Of course he hit her with his smoove shit. Noble always timed his game by the blinking numbers that counted down the “walk” signal mounted on the traffic pole. In the fifteen seconds it had taken for Glorious’s pink-painted toe to leave the sidewalk, until she stepped her sweet ball of cocoa-colored curves up on the curb at the other side of the street, Noble had stopped traffic, gotten her name, her digits, and found out which borough she lived in.
Noble had hit her number later that night and laid down his ever-persuasive rap. They’d talked until his cell phone got too hot to hold. Glorious rambled on, telling him all kinds of shit. She was working on a career in the perfume industry, her last boyfriend had gotten deported back to Haiti, and in her opinion most men these days were fake-ass liars, so she’d kept her legs closed for the past six months.
“I’m not pulling off my thong until I find me a real man,” Glorious had stated boldly.
“I’m real,” Noble told her. “As real as you can get.”
“Serious shit,” she huffed. “I’m tired of all the fake-ass brothahs who either wanna live off a professional sistah, or put his foot all up in her high and mighty ass! So when it comes to getting some of this good na-na, posers need not apply.”
Noble was all for that. He was a straight-up nig, and he appreciated a woman who knew what she wanted and laid down the house rules! Matter of fact, he liked it more when he actually had to work for it, and two nights later him and Glorious were chilling at his brownstone in Brooklyn, sharing some Chinese takeout and a bottle of good wine.
They’d done all the usual first date shit without ever leaving the house. They talked about their families, the jobs, where they saw themselves in five years when they got their lives set.
“You look like you set right now,” Glorious had complimented him as she glanced around his crib in appreciation. “You living real large for a street cop.”
Noble just nodded. He knew his shit was impressively laid out. He’d paid cash for his brownstone back when they were going for pennies on the dollar, and he’d had the interior remodeled to suit his tastes. There were two gas fireplaces in the joint, loads of imported hardwood that had been etched and distressed by hand, granite, marble, antique collectibles, you name it. One of his exes had been an interior designer, and all Noble’s furniture screamed quality and class. He collected expensive sculptures, and had them artfully displayed throughout the house. Nothing Noble had was over the top for a dude whose pockets were as knotty as his, but Glorious was right. Noble’s economic status was higher than that of ten cops, but of course he kept that info under his hat.
He thanked Glorious when she complimented him again on his setup, as she smiled over the rim of her long-stemmed crystal flute. The wine had them both nice and loose, and Noble was feeling good as they snuggled up close on his sofa and acted like they were watching a karate movie.
But in reality, Glorious wasn’t watching nothing above Noble’s waist, and his love muscle was sho’nuff throbbing for her too.
“I don’t usually be all up in no strange man’s house,” Glorious giggled as she pressed her wet lips to his neck and slid her dainty hand up Noble’s left thigh.
“We’ve been talking so much that I don’t feel like a stranger,” Noble told her, rubbing his thumb across her pouty lower lip. Glorious was a real sweet package. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her curly hair, smoky eyes, juicy breasts, and thick, ghetto ass.
“But I wanna get to
know
you,” she breathed, rubbing up and down the hard muscle of his thigh. “Really, really know you.”
“Oh, you gon’ get to know me,” Noble promised as her hand snaked toward the hammer that was banging in his crotch. He caught his breath as she cupped his package and squeezed it gently between her fingers.
“Damn your shit is big,”
she whispered.
“Yeah, baby,” Noble moaned. “It sure is. And you about to get every inch of it. As much as you can stand.”
Noble pulled her to his chest and kissed her, their tongues tangling as he probed and thrust into the wetness of her mouth. Noble hadn’t been with a woman since before he’d left the narcotics division, and it was hard to stop his fingers from scurrying all over her juicy body like ants on an apple slice.
They were both moaning now. Humming into each other’s mouths. They were as close as they could get while sitting down, and Noble wanted to push her back on the sofa and climb on top of her, but then suddenly Glorious pulled away and stood up.
Noble panted as he watched her. He wanted some of that. The sight of her rock-hard nipples poking through her thin shirt made his tongue tremble.
“Noble,” she’d whispered coyly. “We both grown so I’m just gonna put it out there. I wanna be with you tonight. I really do. But I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” he asked. “You’re a woman, and I’m a man. And like you said, we’re grown. I wanna get with you real bad, baby. I would never hurt you.”
Glorious shook her head. “I’m not scared that you’ll hurt me, I’m scared you might ... well ... judge me... .”
Judge her? It was Noble’s turn to shake his head. From what he could see, Glorious was simply fuckin’ glorious! Phat and stacked. The girl had the type of body every man wanted.
“Judge you for what?”
She looked down at her feet and blinked hard a few times.
“Well, just so you’re aware ... I know I look good, but everything about me isn’t quite perfect. Some men can’t handle that.”
Noble was confused. Her body was a work of art, and she had his drawers straight rocked up. What could be more perfect than what she was holding? Instead of responding, Noble stood and swept her up in his arms. Walking carefully, he carried her into his bedroom. He flipped off the light switch as he went through the door, and he was just about to lay her down on his five-thousand-dollar king-sized bed when she stopped him.
“Hold up,” she said firmly.
Sighing, Glorious wriggled out of his embrace.
They stood by the bed, both of them breathing hard like they were ready to get it on.
“Can you cut the light back on, please? I need you to see all of me. The
real
me.”
Noble nodded. His eyes were hungry for her and he did like she asked.
When he was standing in front of her again Glorious locked her gaze on his. She reached up and tugged at her hair, and then suddenly her beautiful curly mane was dangling from her hand.
“My real hair is natural,” she explained as Noble stared from the large swatch of silky hair in her hand to the half-inch of afro-puff covering her head. “I’m letting my new growth get a little longer, and then I’m gonna start twisting my locks.”
Noble nodded. Black chicks and their damn weaves. When would they learn that most dudes were more interested in the hair on their pussies than what was on their heads?
“Cool,” he said, and then added truthfully, “I like the way women look with locks.”
Noble’s dick was still on throb, and her fake hair wasn’t about to stop no show. Reaching for her hand, he took the wig from her and placed it gently on his dresser. Then he pulled Glorious back into his arms and held her tight, pressing her coconut-sized breasts into his chest and drooling at the thought of rolling those thick nipples around on his tongue.
Wordlessly, they grinded their lower bodies in sync, dry fucking like teenagers who wanted to tear off their clothes. Noble’s dick was straining to bust outta his drawers, and the heat coming from between Glorious’s legs had him imagining just how nice and wet her pussy must be.
His fingers crawled over her toned back, then he slid his palms up her sides and brought them around to squeeze those thick, extra-firm breasts.
“Umm, chill for a second,” Glorious whispered, pulling away again.
Noble just stood there as she stretched the neck of her sweater out and peeked down into her bosom area. She fumbled around down in there for a moment, and his eyes got wide as she plucked out first the right flesh-colored false titty, and then the left one.
Noble winced. She was holding those juicy, fabulous titties in her hands! To his horror, those bad boys were cinnamon brown, and had stiff little rubber nipples on them!
“I’ve lost over a hundred pounds,” Glorious explained. She chuckled like she was embarrassed, then gave him an awkward grin. “Breast tissue ain’t nothing but fat anyway, so ‘the girls’ were the first things to go. I have to use these,” she said, holding up the two firm pieces of molded gel that Noble had been feeling all on, “because I lost the fat, but not the skin. Sorry”—she shrugged—“but my natural breasts sag a little bit. You said you wanted real? Well, this is what’s real.”
Noble stared at the deflated area of her chest and tried not to frown.
C’mon, dude,
he chastised himself.
Not every woman is gonna have nice big knockers. Breasts—just like dicks—come in all different shapes and sizes.
“It’s all good,” he assured her. This chick was turning out to be full of surprises. But it was cool. After all, Noble had a little surprise of his own to reveal. He was just waiting for the time to be right.
Glorious tossed her fake titties up on the dresser next to her fake hair, and then she stepped up on Noble real close again. This time when she pressed herself against him she felt hard and skinny instead of soft and juicy. Her body had a whole different feeling going on in his groin. Noble had liked the other feeling much better.
Glorious raised her chin and they went back to kissing, but when she tried to touch his dick again, it was Noble who pulled away.
“Yo, Glo,” he chuckled gazing down into her gorgeous face. “You ain’t got no more surprises for me, do you, baby girl? I mean, those
are
your real teeth in your mouth and your real eyes in your head, ain’t they? I mean, you ain’t gon’ pop one of your eyeballs out and play skelly with it or nothing, are you?”
She bust out laughing and punched his arm.
“Yeah, boy! Stop playing. These is my real eyes.” She grabbed Noble’s hand and pressed it between her legs and humped him. “This my real pussy too.”
The crotch of her pants was hot and wet, and Noble could feel how swollen her pussy lips were as he rubbed his fingers back and forth across her fat clit.
He had gotten the top button on her pants loose and was just about to slide her zipper down when she clenched his wrist and stopped him.
“There’s one last thing,” she said, looking up at him with those soft, pretty eyes.
Noble sighed and braced himself. What the fuck was it gonna be this time?
To his surprise, she unzipped her pants the rest of the way, then wriggled around sexily as she slid them over her curved hips. Her panties were bright orange and looked stunning against her glorious chocolate tummy and thighs. She had him wanting some sho’nuff Reese’s Pieces.
“Take ’em off, baby,” Noble panted as he grilled her lower body. He cupped his dick through his pants and gave it a nice strong squeeze. “Go head and take ’em off... .”
Glorious took them panties off all right.
And she took her whole ass off right along with them.
“What’s that?” Noble hollered as she stood in the middle of the floor holding her thick, round, gangsta booty in both hands.
“It’s a butt pad,” she said simply. “I told you I lost a lot of weight. The booty got a bit jiggly. I wear a pad to round it out.”
Noble bucked inside. This chick had seriously misrepresented. He wasn’t mad, and he damn sure still wanted to get him some, but he
was
gonna get her ass back.
“All right then,” he said, fumbling with his belt buckle. Since this chick wanted to take fake shit off, they could take some fake shit
off
!
BOOK: Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless
2.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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