Pretty Girls in the Vip (9781617730283) (2 page)

“S
hani, you want to go out tonight, don't you?” “Yeah, I want to.”

“Well, you know what you got to do if you want to go.”

I'd already tried the shoes on, and picked out a dress and modeled them both in the mirror. I asked the salesgirl to put them on hold for me. I knew what Courtney meant, but I wasn't in the mood to have no old pervert rub all on me. I still was hesitant about going inside the hotel room.

“Okay, okay, I'm going to do it.” Right as I got the courage, a father walked down the airport hotel hall and stopped at the ice machine with his young daughter and smiled at me. I smiled back. They were probably about to do something nice like eat pizza and watch a movie, and I was about to do something dirty. I took a deep breath.

“Shanice, just knock on the damn door. I'm right out here. All you have to do is close your eyes and think about how pretty you are going to look in that dress and them shoes. You know bitches going to be mad when they see us tonight.”

My cousin was right. I needed to go out tonight and I had to look good. “As soon as we leave here, we are going straight to the mall and I'm picking up my stuff.” I got hyped from her pep talk and knocked on the door. I like sex. I like sex a lot. I always have, but sometimes I don't feel like spreading it wide for old men. They smell, they want you to say kinky things to them, and they always try to stick their fingers in your ass, but I had done much worse and for less. Me and Courtney tried being strippers, but that didn't last because we kept seeing everyone from our neighborhood. Plus the bitches that worked there were all strung out on something, bisexuals, and the tips weren't that good.

I've tricked before, but usually it is with a regular dude that I kind of like and already know I'm going to fuck. The only difference is, I make him give me some money before anything happens. But this escort business was in a whole other lane. It was Courtney's idea to put an ad on this website. When she asked me was I with it last week, I said yeah. Then she got both of us “dates” for tonight.

The plan was for one of us to date, while the other collected the money and kept watch just in case 911 had to be dialed. Courtney had just finished up downstairs with her date, and now it was my turn.

“Okay, I'm ready, but get the money as soon as we open the door, Courtney.”

“I'll get the money. You just go in there and make him cum real quick. He sounded really old, like he is only good for a few pumps anyway.”

“Give me one more minute,” I said, preparing myself.

“Look, if you not going to do it, I will,” Courtney said as she moved toward the door.

“No, I'll do it. Okay, okay.” I took a long, deep breath and knocked three times on the door. I heard a voice say, “Here I come.” The gold door handle moved, and a few seconds later a man opened the door. He appeared just like I had imagined he would look: older, wrinkled, and perverted-looking. He was a middle-aged black man with black dyed hair with gray roots, and he was wearing a robe with water still beading on his thin legs. I knew at least he had taken a shower.

“Two ladies. Wow, I'm lucky, huh?”

“No, only one and we need to get paid first. I'm not here for you; she is.” Courtney extended her hand toward him.

“Oh, come on in. Let me get my wallet.”

We followed him, and I took a look around the room. There was a nice flat screen hung on the wall across from two neatly made double beds. He handed Courtney the money, and she let him know she would be right there if he tried anything.

“So, what's your name?” he asked me, looking my body over with lust in his eyes.

“My name's Simone, and I'm ready for you, Daddy.” I opened my jacket, showing off my purple and black lingerie, and uncovered my butterfly-tattooed thigh.

He wanted to kiss me on my lips, but I turned his face and let him prick on my neck. Then I let him feel on my breasts and kiss them through my bra. His erect dick was standing up out of his white tight underwear. I rubbed him back and forth and felt wetness seeping through.

“So, how do you like it, Daddy?” I purred while posing for him. He looked up at me like he was in a trance and said, “Can you take your clothes off and can I feel them?” Instead of doing it, he kept asking for my permission every step of the way, and I had to keep hearing his voice. I unhooked my bra and let my big girls hang high. I placed his hands on them.
There,
I thought. He began salivating some.

“Nice and firm,” he whispered after he squeezed my breasts and began to slurp on my nipples. I didn't like the way it was feeling, so I placed his hands on my bare lips. He grunted from the sensation of what his fingers were touching.

“Wow, you're frisky,” he said, breathing hard. Yeah, I was frisky all right. I was trying my best to get this disgusting sex transaction done and over with, but he was slowing me down with all his stupid small talk. Oh my God, he was irritating. I couldn't take much more. I stood up and told him to take his clothes off then rolled a loose condom over him. I hopped on top of him and watched a panic-stricken look take over his face. A few twists and he released with an awful-sounding groan right into the tip of the condom. I thought he would be finished with me. Instead he sat up, patted my butt cheek, and requested that I spank him. He pulled out a wooden board. He bent over like a puppy and poked his ass out at me. I didn't know how many times he wanted me to swing, but I hit him ten good times as hard as I could. His flesh was welted and red. It was easy to whip his ass because I hated everything about what we were doing. But after I'd taken out my anger on him, I'd had enough. He was freaking me out, and I think he might have enjoyed the beating more than the intercourse. I threw on my clothes and rushed toward the door.

“What do I need to do if I want to see you again?”

“Just call us again.” I was lying; he would never see me again. I walked out of the hotel room and saw Courtney sitting there texting. She jumped up and followed me down the hall.

“You weren't even paying attention! He could have been strangling me. You're all on your phone.”

“No, I was watching out. I heard everything. That was easy, wasn't it? Let's go get what we are wearing to the club tonight.” She pressed the elevator button to go down.

“Wasn't shit about that easy. That's the last time I'm fucking an old man. No more escorting.”

 

We drove from the hotel in Courtney's off-black Grand Prix, heading for the Cherry Hill Mall. We entered the Ends Boutique, where the clerk had my dress and shoes on hold.

“Oh, so you are back? Here they are.” The woman brought the shoes out, and I was happy to try on my new items. Courtney was right; we were going to kill it at the club tonight. Bitches, beware!

I tried on everything again, and they still looked good. My brown skin was glowing, showing my tattoo. I had my tongue and eyebrow pierced. My piercings set off my curvaceous frame and a lot of guys told me they were sexy. Courtney and I are first cousins but were raised like sisters. We're both twenty-three and grew up in a three-bedroom apartment in North Philly, a section of Philadelphia. Our apartment was right down the street from where the Richard Allen projects used to be. They replaced the projects with nice town houses, but the same people were still living there, so it was still bad.

My mom is Courtney's mother's older sister. We lived together since we were younger. Me and my mom moved in with her and her mom one night after my mom's boyfriend Winton beat my mom so bad she needed thirty stitches in her head. Aunt Rhonda needed help with the bills and my mom needed to get away from her abuser, so it was a win-win for both of them. At first it was like a fun, never-ending sleepover, until my mom went back to Winton. Aunt Rhonda told my mom to let me stay, so I wouldn't have to be around all of the fighting. What seemed like a way to protect me was the thing that hurt me the worst.

A week after my mom went back to Winton, he beat her ass again and this time she fought back. She picked up a knife and stabbed him until he didn't move.

The neighbors told my aunt that my mom ran out of the house with blood all over her clothes, screaming, “Someone help me! Someone call the cops!” When the cops and paramedics arrived, she walked them in the apartment and they said they walked right back out, because there was nothing they could do to save him. He was already dead.

Ever since that tragic night, I wished I was home and not living with my aunt and cousin. I could have run into the room and saved my mom, like so many other times. If I had been there, I would have stopped my mom from killing Winton. I would have stopped Winton from hitting her in the first place. At least that's what I always told myself.

My mom was arrested and sentenced to twenty years in Muncy State Penitentiary. Since I've been grown I've tried to go visit and write her, but she always denies any visitors and when I write her she doesn't respond.

After she left, the only family I had left was Aunt Rhonda and Courtney. I don't know who my dad is, even though Aunt Rhonda says she thinks Winton was my dad. He probably was, because that's the only man I had ever seen my mom with, but who knows.

 

Courtney and I were home getting dressed and getting ready to hit up Luxe Lounge on Arch Street. Every city has the club that every six months or so has a new name and is under new management. That was Luxe Lounge, but it was always a guaranteed crowd. I couldn't wait to be seen tonight. And hopefully, I'd find me a new friend with some money so I wouldn't have to go on any more pervert dates.

I was working my nude-colored dress and heels I bought at the mall. I was looking in the mirror, teasing my loose deep wave weave, waiting for Courtney to get out of the shower. She always took forever at the mirror doing her makeup and hair, although she didn't have that much hair. She had a brownish-blond, short curly cut. All she had to do was slap some mousse in her hair and it was done, but it still took her forever to get ready. She had long hair when we were growing up, but she always cut it because she didn't like dealing with it. The short cut fit her medium shade of brown skin and her slim body type. She had the perfect shape.

 

At Luxe Lounge we waited outside for the bouncer to start letting more people in again, but it didn't look like it was going to be happening anytime soon. If people didn't stop pushing and being hype, nobody else would get in the club. I wanted to get in and get my first drink and have fun. Somebody was going to be buying the drinks and then maybe take us to the after-hours club.

Guys knew we were about our change. Chicks knew, too. It was always, “Y'all so cute. Your shoes are so nice. Where did you get that dress from?” Aunt Rhonda had always kept us in the cutest, the latest, and the flyest, and when she didn't, me and Courtney learned how to get dudes to get it for us.

I don't have a boyfriend, because every guy I meet thinks “sex” as soon as they see my body. They just want to fuck and that's it. Before I was even old enough, guys were sneaking a feel on my butt. If I could, I would slice some of my ass off and give it away. I really would, because it is hard to find jeans, and my butt always makes dresses and skirts rise a few inches in the back. It's like I can't hide it, even when I try, and that's all people ever focus on.

Courtney doesn't really have a man either. She kind of still messes with her daughter Ayana's father, Antwan. Antwan is thirty and comes around every now and then, but he proposed to his other baby mother that's like his age. He gives Courtney a little money and a little bit of his time. She claims it doesn't bother her that he has another family. But I know she wishes he was with her and Ayana instead of his ugly wife. I have a daughter, too; her name's Raven. Raven's five, a little older than Courtney's daughter, Ayana. My daughter lives with her grandmother and I try to go see her once a week.

 

We waited some more to get into the crowded club. The bouncer was still screaming at everyone to get in a straight line and threatening that no one else was getting in. His screaming was irking everyone, which made everyone sigh, get frustrated, and push even more.

“There go Raquel,” I told Courtney. Raquel was Antwan's wife. Even though she was like thirty, she was petty. She did things like play on Courtney's phone and always started trouble. Like when they were getting married, she sent Courtney a wedding invitation just to fuck with her. Raquel was with all her friends and cousins. There was only two of us and about five of them. They walked past us, staring and mumbling something about bum bitches.

Courtney was quiet, but I wasn't about to let them talk shit. I turned to Courtney and said, “Girl, please, I'm not about to fight a group of bitches. I will cut someone's face up so quick and they will be leaking.”

They looked over and took one look at my face, then they realized I was about that life and I was not the one they wanted it with. Instead of walking past us again, they walked the other way.

 

Once we were finally in the club, it was beyond crowded. I met a few dudes but every time I walked to the bar, no one offered to buy me a drink.
Damn, why all the broke dudes come to the club tonight?
I thought. I was not happy having to treat myself to Long Islands and shots of Patrón. Then the one dude I met who did buy me a drink wasn't really talking about spending, and I didn't have time to go to dinner. Fuck dinner; give me some money. What I didn't have time for was anyone who was not talking about money in the first conversation. Bye, boy.