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“I do me, beautiful. I make my ends.”
“How?”
“We can talk about how I get money in the future, but I wanna know about you. Talk to me, beautiful,” he said.
Crown called her beautiful to make her sure of herself and make her more comfortable around him. The more she heard the word beautiful come from his lips, the more trust she would put into him. He wanted to tap into her mind first—make love to her soul and change her way of thinking—before he touched her physically. He hated for any of his women to feel negatively about themselves, as negativity brought him less dollars. A positive female was a controlling bitch, and a controlling bitch knew how to regulate a trick for that extra bread. Although he didn’t like for his women to have low self-esteem, they needed to be obedient. Crown didn’t hesitate to put the smack down!
Crown hated the pimps that drugged their bitches and talked trash to them, bringing down their self-esteem. To him, you couldn’t trust a drugged bitch who hated herself, and she was like damaged goods on the streets.
But Crown wasn’t scared to put a bitch in place whenever they came out of pocket. He was often violent with his whores to show them that he was in control. He was their daddy. He didn’t love his bitches and saw them as currency. In a way, they were like livestock; if you treated your stock right, kept ’em well groomed, fed, and well taken care of they’d never leave home.
Crown was fine, persuasive, a true hustler, and a good fuck. He would lay the pipe game down on his chicks and show them how to fuck a nigga wit’ a big dick. He schooled all his hoes on how to suck and fuck a trick off and keep them coming back. You always do a nigga right, but not too right—always have them wanting for more, he would say. And they always gotta pay to play, was his personal motto.
Crown drove across the Vine St. Expressway and slowed down at a red light at Race Street. He continued to talk to Sweet like he cared. He let her talk and he listened, knowing that sometimes a bitch just wanted an outlet. So he played the part, like a concerned boyfriend.
By the time Crown pulled up in front of The Gallery mall on Market Street, he knew much about Sweet—her family, her likes and dislikes, her worries, and her love of travel. He would later use the information she disclosed to his advantage.
Before Sweet stepped out of his car, Crown asked, “So what you lookin’ for, beautiful?”
“I just wanna be happy,” she said.
“We can see about that, beautiful. I wanna make you happy,” Crown replied with a smile.
Sweet smiled back.
“I’ll be back around to pick you up when you get off at ten and we’ll definitely talk,” he said.
Sweet nodded and walked toward the mall, feeling like she’d met the perfect man. That same night, Crown was parked out front, waiting to pick her up and continue their chat. He took her to eat at Ms. Tootsie’s, this chic soul food restaurant on South Street. He laid his game down on her heavily and had Sweet feeling like she was the next Ms. Universe.
Within the week, Crown made love to her mind and built her confidence so much, that when they finally had sex, Sweet was totally submissive to him and wanted to please Crown in every way imaginable. When Sweet saw the package he was workin’ with, she glowed. Crown had worked his way into her life subtly and slowly starting from her mind, worked his way down to her pussy, pleasing Sweet from head to toe. In the end, he knew he would be her life.
Chaos continued to seduce Bobby with her spicy stage performance. She parted her sweet, juicy pussy lips with the tips of her fingers and played with her clit, arching her back and giving Bobby one hell of a show. Her gentle, manicured fingers ran in and out of her hole like a dick and Bobby couldn’t help but gawk at her as he massaged his hardened dick through his pants.
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“You ready for me, Bobby?” Chaos asked.
Bobby’s heart raced and his hormones raged like a bull in the rodeo. Pussy was the only thing on his mind and Chaos had him in the palm of her hands. Bobby opened his wallet and saw the $300 that he had left from his paycheck. He needed to pay bills with the money, but watching Chaos her play with her pussy was making him think otherwise.
Chaos crawled up to him on her knees and pushed her soft tits into his face. She noticed Crown walk into the joint clad in a long white mink, designer Gucci shades and white wingtip shoes. He looked like a throwback pimp from the seventies. Cherish was by his side in a tight denim mini-skirt and stiletto boots, Sweet was in a micro-mini dress, and Midnight trailed behind them in a catsuit. Crown clutched a cigar between his fingers and scanned the area, looking for his hoes. He took a pull from the cigar and made his way toward the stage where Chaos was working.
Bobby turned and noticed Crown coming his way and got a little nervous. He feared Crown but loved Chaos.
“What’s the matter, Bobby? My daddy got you nervous?” Chaos teased.
“Nah, I’m okay,” he lied.
Crown towered over Bobby and focused on Chaos. He took another pull from the cigar and asked, “Bitch, you workin’ this trick for my fuckin’ money?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Chaos replied meekly.
Crown looked down at Bobby. “Nigga, you tipping my bitch, right?”
“Yeah, Crown. You know I always got love for Chaos.”
“So, nigga, if you got love for her like that, then take her to the back and have her love your ass right back. She’ll love you real fuckin’ good for that right price. And, nigga, you look like you need some lovin’.”
Bobby didn’t reply. He looked back at Chaos and watched her crawl up to him on all fours. She moved her lips near his, teasing him like she was about to go in for a kiss and then pecked him on his cheek.
