Nasty Girls (5 page)

“Fuck that bitch up! Fuck that bitch up!” I shouted as I kept beating on Tasha.

We both fell onto the ground, and Tasha had somewhat the advantage. She was on top of me and started punching me. I looked up and saw Camille and Dee fighting close by.

By now we were causing a scene, and there was a small crowd gathering around. Some were cheering on our actions, especially niggas.

“Shy, get this bitch off me!” I yelled, trying to get the advantage again. Shy pulled Tasha by her hair, yanking her shit back
and pulling out half her dirty fucking weave, and I punched that bitch straight in her fucking jaw. I got up and started wilding out on her, and then I wild out on her cousin too, who was like five-nine, and here was my little ass, jumping on this bitch who was twice my size. With the help of Camille, we busted that bitch's lip, and I scratched the shit outta her face, and ripped open her shirt.

By now, people started to intervene and had the nerve to try and break us up from fighting. This elderly lady—I guess she was in her late forties—grabbed me from behind and shouted, “Y'all cut that out! Get off her!”

I swear I wanted to turn around and punch her in her jaw too. But outta respect, I didn't. I just shouted, “Fuck that bitch! She a dirty fuckin' bitch!”

“Fuck you, bitch!” Tasha yelled back. “You gonna get yours. Watch, bitch! You better watch your fuckin' back!”

“You dirty bitch!” I shouted back, trying to break free from the people that had my little ass clutched in their arms. “You gonna get fucked up again!”

“Fuck those bitches!” her cousin shouted. Some dude had her gripped by the arm, and one of her breasts was exposed. But she didn't care.

I looked over at my girls, and they were all right. Camille's scarf was off her head, and her hair was in disarray, and Shy, she was okay, she had not one scratch, bite, or cut on her.

Before the cops or anybody else came, we went our separate ways. Tasha and Dee went their way, and me and my girls went our way. But I was sure it wasn't over between Tasha and me. I'd handled what I came to do. We don't joke around, and both those bitches knew it too. When we throw down, we fucking
throw down. I'll fight like a fucking man; Camille too. Shy, she somewhat all right with the hand skills, but she ain't a true warrior without me and Camille having her back.

 

L
ater on that day, we chilled up in my apartment and talked about the dumb bitches. Then ordered some Chinese food and talked about how fucked up men can be. Here I am, fighting this dirty bitch over James. I asked myself, Was it worth it today? Is James truly worth fighting a bitch like Tasha over? I mean, what kind of standards do this nigga got if he's creeping around behind my back with trash like that? How the fuck he gonna go from me, his woman that had his back since the day we met, who cooks, cleans, and fucks him till his dick explodes, to some bitch who niggas know is a fucking nasty ho.

I swear James better come correct with this one. I mean, it was rumored that he was fucking with Tasha, and Camille confirmed it when she told me yesterday that she saw him hugged up on her. And I guess that I was so mad, and believed her, that I had to personally take out my frustration on that bitch. She was at fault just as much as James was. And believe me, when he brings his ass home, he's gonna hear my fucking mouth.

But I couldn't believe James could do that to a sista. I'm too fucking fly for him to be creeping around with something like that. It had me believing that I wasn't pleasing my man right. I know my pussy is good. I know I take care of my man right, so why would this nigga creep around?

Around five that afternoon, Camille and Shy left, leaving me alone to ponder about certain events. All afternoon, my mind was on James. God knows I love that man to death. But if he's
fucking around on a sista, especially with Tasha, I swear, I'm leaving this nigga. But first, I gonna beat this nigga in the head with a frying pan, curse his ass out, and then I'm bouncing. And let him be missing a sista. Let him miss all the good loving I've been giving this nigga every night. If he don't respect me, then I'll find a man who will. I know there are plenty of brothers out there who are waiting to step up to bat and get at this, for real.

Around nine that night, I heard keys in the door to the apartment. I remained seated on the plush green couch with Alicia Keys's vocals to her hit song “Diary” softly playing from the speakers. I quickly dried my eyes and got myself ready to confront him.

I had the lights on and sat with my arms folded across my chest and my legs crossed.

James stepped into the room, his manly physique filling the space. He had on a blue Sean John sweatsuit, which he looked really good in, and his shaved brown head glistened like he just came from the barbershop. He looked at me and asked, “Baby, what's wrong?”

I got up, went over to him—and then smacked the shit outta him and shouted out, “You fuckin' that bitch!”

“What?” he returned, looking at me like I done lost my mind.

“Tasha! You fuckin' her, James? You fuckin' that bitch behind my back?”

“I don't know what the fuck you talkin' about! Who tellin' you this shit? Camille? Tell that bitch she need to mind her business!” he stated angrily.

“Don't worry 'bout Camille. I'm hearin' this shit all around. Why you around her fo', James?”

“Jade, why the fuck am I gonna be messin' wit' some bitch up in the projects? You know how nosy people can be. I ain't tryin' to have muthafuckas in my business. You need to tell whoever to stop spreadin' these fuckin' rumors about me. Fo' real, Jade, you gettin' worked up off these silly rumors,” he said, glaring at me.

“Silly? I had to fuck that bitch up today, James. I'm tired of this shit.”

James sighed, staring at me. “I heard about that. Why the fuck you beefin', Jade? Look at you, and look at her. C'mon Jade, honestly. If I'm gonna cheat on you, you think I'm gonna go for Tasha? You know she ain't my type.”

“Whatever, James. I'm tired.”

“Jade, listen.”

He came closer to me, with me still fuming, and had the nerve to put his arms around me and embrace me. Damn, he smelled so nice, and his touch. I wanted to push him off me. But I didn't.

“Jade, you know how I like my women. Beautiful, assertive, charming, and eloquent. Like the one I'm holdin' in my arms right now.” His voice was strong and deep, but also suave and convincing. “Why I'm gonna cheat on you, baby? You always do me right. And I ain't tryin' to lose you over no bullshit rumor about me fuckin' Tasha. C'mon Jade, you know how niggas and these hos out here be hatin' on us. They gonna find any way to break us up, 'cause they know we look too good together. You can't trust them. It's about us, not them, baby.”

He looked me in my eyes, and he seemed so sincere. His touch felt so inviting. I thought,
Maybe he's right; maybe I am beefing over
some bullshit.
I remembered some of James's ex-girlfriends, and I had to admit myself that he definitely had good taste in woman. I mean, he chose me.

KISS FM continued to play the soft slow jams like the Isley Brothers, Jagged Edge, and Will Downing, and it wasn't making matters better with me trying to be furious with James and getting a straight answer from him.

“Jade, c'mon, let's not fight over this bullshit. We've been together fo' four years now. I love you, baby,” he said. Our eyes met. He towered over me and held me softly in his arms.

James is so fine: six feet one, 195 pounds, and ripped with a washboard stomach. He's got smooth brown skin, and his sweet lips are lined with a pencil-thin goatee.

I peered up into his eyes and damn near almost forgot what I was arguing with him about. It's sad to say, but James got that effect on me. We'd argue constantly, but somehow, by the end of the day or night, he got my panties on the floor, my thighs spread apart, and his big dick is fucking the shit out of me.

And of course, tonight was no different. James was so smooth with his that I found myself spread across the carpet, with my legs spread out, having James's face buried in between my thighs and blessing a sista with a little head job.

“You ain't gotta worry 'bout me, baby. I ain't goin' nowhere. I ain't fuckin' around on you,” he whispered, lifting his head from the pussy and looking up at me.

“James . . . ,” I passionately moaned. A few tears trickled down my face. I wanted to hate him tonight, but he made it so damn hard. “I want you to love me, baby,” I said.

“Baby, I do love you. You know that,” he said in a gentle
whisper. He was naked, and his body was solid, and his dick was rock hard. He climbed on top of me, putting us in the missionary position, and placed his nine-inch manhood near my goodies.

I reached up and pulled him down on top of me, and felt his long, deep, hard erection slowly enter me. I gasped out as my little ass tried to endure all of the dick he was pushing into me.

“I love you, Jade,” he said. “Why am I gonna fuck up this? Your pussy is too good fo' a nigga to be strayin' away from home.”

“I love you too, baby,” I cried. I wrapped my legs around his gyrating hips as he thrust himself into me, threw my arms around him, and held him close.

I knew that I was in love with him, because if it was anybody else, they would have been out the door.

N
ow this is how a bitch should live. I got my own place, my own ride, and I'm able to take care of myself. I don't stress no fucking nigga. Don't fucking need to.

After that beat down I gave that bitch Dee, and hearing about my girls and they problems, I needed to unwind and do me. I made myself a booty call. I needed to get my shit off. And right now, that booty call was certainly doing its thing. I had no complaints.

“Ahhh . . . shit, baby, eat that pussy . . . ,” I moaned, my legs wrapped around my lover's head as I clutched my bedsheets.

I had my boy, Brian McKnight, soft and seductive lyrics playing in the bedroom, with the bass line set just right. The lights were dimmed, and the night seemed so tranquil in the projects, which was unusual, because on a warm night like tonight, usually I would have about six to eight niggas outside my bedroom window gambling, drinking, and being loud and vulgar.

But it was quiet, and I wasn't complaining. I was getting my sex on, and just got finished getting high.

The track to my song, “Anytime,” was ending, and I felt myself coming. I clutched the sheets tighter and felt my toes curling, and started panting harder and harder. I closed my eyes and panted out louder, and moaned, “Oooh, ssshhhh—Damn.” I had my eyes closed and licked my lips. When I came, my body quivered and then I felt myself collapse. But I wasn't out.

Sierra came out from under the covers. “You like that?” she asked.

“You know I did,” I replied.

She came up to me and slowly began to kiss me on my lips. I embraced her, and we continued to do our thing. I rolled Sierra over on her back and told her to spread them. And she did. I kissed her across her belly and then started to slowly finger-pop her sweet, pulsating vagina.

“My turn?” she asked, smiling.

I looked at her and then leaned forward and kissed her Hershey nipples, and started to slowly suck on each one. I heard her moan, and that stimulated me even more. I finger-popped her and sucked on her sugary nipples simultaneously. Sierra clutched my soft white pillow as my lips and tongue went down on her and I tasted a mouthful of pubic hairs and juices. I was gentle. Sierra thrust herself against me and gasped. Several moments passed, and she began to shake, and then she came. I looked up at her, and she had a satisfied grin plastered across her face.

I'm a freak. I admit that. I get my groove on any way possible. I switch back and forth from men and women. I ain't a lesbian like that, because once in a while, I do truly love some dick in me. But sometimes, when I get fed up with these trifling-ass, weak, and small-dick niggas—who sometimes don't know a
piece of pussy from an asshole—I switch-hit and call up my girl, Sierra. Sierra, she can make a sista come right. I've been fucking with her for a couple of months now, on some DL shit.

Jade and Shy, they don't know about Sierra—shit, they don't really know that I get down with women like that. That's my business, and I keep it on the low. I don't stress these niggas out here, like my girls do. I get my dick, and after I'm done fucking, I'll tell the nigga to bounce, and call him back up when I want it again. I ain't trying to go through that relationship drama, and worrying about if the nigga is cheating on me or not. Worrying about who he fucking and why he doesn't love me. Shit, I leave that bullshit at the door. I ain't got time for that.

The last boyfriend I had was a year ago. Thomas. He had a big dick, but the nigga couldn't please me right. He tried. I give him that. But I wasn't coming like that, and he got corny and played out. So I dumped the nigga, plain and simple. Thomas wanted love, marriage, kids, house, matching bath towels, picket fences, farms, chickens, and shit. I mean, damn, the nigga was squeezing a bitch into a corner, sweating a sista. I hate it when men get pussy-whipped and they all up on you, wanting to know your business and shit. And God, don't let me have any male friends. The nigga wanted to be all in their business and mine. Thomas would get jealous, and ask, “You fuckin' him?” or “Y'all sure y'all just friends? Where you meet him at?” and my friends, all of 'em are cute, and they have a thang for me. But I keeps it cool and friendly with my male peoples. I fuck who I wanna fuck.

So with Thomas, before shit got even more dramatic with him, I cut him loose. I had to. He was getting on my last nerve. And did you know, that nigga cried? He cried like a bitch, begging for me to take him back. He got down on his knees and
said he couldn't live without me.
Damn,
I thought,
pussy got him that strung.
But come on now, I wanted the nigga to have some dignity for himself. Shit, don't be a grown man and cry in front of me, especially if it ain't that serious. I'm gonna dis you and keep it moving. I met Sierra a few months after, and we hooked up, and she know it ain't nothing serious between us, just sex. In fact, she got a husband, and he don't know about her and me. I don't tell, and she don't either.