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“Yeah.”
“Don’t ‘yeah’ me, ho.”
“Yes.”
“Mmmmph. You takin’ it in the ass, too?”
“Ohmygod, Ma! Noooooo! That’s goin’ too far.”
“So, why are you out here doin’ all this fuckin’?”
She shrugs, again.
I reach over and slap the shit out of her. “Don’t fuckin’ sit here and act like you don’t know why you’re doin’ all this fuckin’. You know exactly why ya nasty ass is fuckin’.” She grabs the side of her face. Balls her fists up. “Bitch, I wish you would. You better unclench those goddamn fists right now or I’ma take that as a sign that you wanna take it to the streets. And you know I love a good fight, so act like you wanna leap.”
She unclenches her hands. “I only wanted to know what it felt like,” she says, tryna hold back tears.
“And it felt good to you, didn’t it? That dick made your pussy hum, huh?”
She squirms. Tells me she got tired of hearin’ all the lil’ fast-ass girls she hangs out with talkin’ about how good dick was so she wanted to see for herself. “Mmmmph, so you a follower, huh? If them dumb bitches tell you they got HIV or AIDS, you gonna wanna see how that is too, I guess.”
“I’m not stupid, Ma. I don’t go out and do everything my friends do.”
I lean up in her face. “Lil’ girl, you are stupid. You stupid for fuckin’ and suckin’ a buncha goddamn niggahs in the first damn place. There’s no damn reason for you to be sluttin’ it up the way you are. You’re a pretty girl, Day’Asia. When I was your age, I had to ho it up to keep a damn roof over my head. I sucked and fucked a niggah because he had somethin’ I needed or wanted. And trust me. It had nothin’ to do with his goddamn dick. I’ve sucked and fucked a buncha niggahs to make sure you and your brothers never had to go without. Have you ever not gotten what you’ve wanted?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Exactly. So there’s no goddamn reason your dumb ass is out here ho-in’ it up for no damn reason.” I shake my head. “I feel like bustin’ you in your motherfuckin’ face.”
When I caught her ass in that stairwell down on her knees she told me that was her first time doin’ it. But I saw the way she bobbed her head back and forth over that motherfucka’s cock. She was suckin’ his dick like she had a degree in cock suckin’. And now her ass is fuckin’ like a pornstar. Mmmph.
“Get your ass up. You’re gettin’ the Depo shot. You can get AIDS. And you can get herpes, and any other STD out there if you want. But the one thing you won’t do is get pregnant; not on my watch, boo. When you turn eighteen you can have all the babies you want. But until then, every three months you and I got a date down at the clinic to get that damn shot. And you better hope I don’t decide to shove an IUD up in your nasty ass, too. Now get up.”
She sucks her teeth, gettin’ out of bed. She snatches the EPT box up, stomping toward the door. I follow behind her. Tell her to use the bathroom in my bedroom. Tell her that she is to keep the door open while I watch her piss. She doesn’t like that. But I don’t give a fuck. “You can stomp all you want. But you better hope that test comes back negative, or you will be stomped down.”
Twenty-Nine
I eye Chunky Monkey—well, his name is really Christian, Chris for short—up in the deejay’s booth. Oooh, his ass is too fine for his own damn good. Light-skinned with fine silky hair that he always wears in a ponytail. Nice smooth skin, perfectly straight, white teeth. And he has beautiful green eyes. Oooh, and you know he done made himself a buncha pretty babies, too. Mmmph. Yes, Lawd! His nasty ass has about fifteen—no, excuse me, sixteen, damn kids by three different hoes. And two of ’em are hot ghetto trash. But you know I ain’t one for slingin’ shit up on anyone, so I’m not gonna say no more about them hoes; other than they love them some six feet tall, lil’ dick Chris. Mmmph, and I know for a fact that—him havin’ a lil’ itty-bitty, short dingaling—is true since I jerked it off up in the deejay booth a few years ago. That fine niggah is all balls, and no damn dingdong. Oh, it’s tragic! But he’s so fuckin’ sexy to look at. So I talked real dirty in his ear and let him finger-fuck me in my ass while I jacked him off with a smile.
Anyway . . . the niggahs in the streets call his sexy-ass Chunky Monkey, and not ’cause he’s all fat and nasty with it. Shit, the niggah’s body is all that. But the reason they call him Chunky Monkey is ’cause anytime you see him he’s eatin’ a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. Or he’s somewhere smearin’ it on some pussy and lickin’ it off ’cause the niggah loves eatin’ pussy. And I know that to be true, too, since I let him chunky my monkey with his long tongue twice. And oooh, he did Big Booty right, goddammit!
But that’s beside the point. Saturday night is his night to spin the beats at The Crack House. And it’s instrumental night. And his ass always serves it up right, okay. He catches my eye and grins, givin’ me the thumbs up. And I roll my eyes, givin’ him the finger, like I do Slick every time he’s up in the booth. Chunky gets on my damn nerves with
his pretty-faced self. He and Slick are always tryna set me off on the dance floor. Sexy-ass fuckers!
He laughs, then gets on the mic and says, “Aiight, Cass. I see you, baby. Lookin’ good, ma-ma . . . ”
Mmmph. Long Pocahontas braid swayin’ past my ass. Chinese bangs sweepin’ my forehead. Diamond hoops blingin’ in my ears. Python Birkin bag in the crook of my arm. Six-inch black Louie heels on my feet. Sexy black dress with the back cut-out and thigh-high split on both sides, showin’ off my thighs, smooth back and ass crack. I can give you a mouthful of nice titties, but it’s my greatest asset that does ’em all in. Ass ’n hips. Pow, Pow! Who shot ya? Big Booty, sugah boo! So you damn right I’m lookin’ damn good. No, motherfuckin’ damn good!
Shit, I hate to say it. But I really am that diva-bitch, sugah-boo. Even with my section-8 and EBT card havin’ self, I stay sponsored up. I’ma hood celebrity, sweetie. When I step through the door they roll out the red carpet. And everyone up in this bitch knows Big Booty likes to bring it, serve it, do it up right, goddammit!
“That’s right, sexy ma-ma, I see you,” Chunky says, grinnin’ as if he can read my thoughts. “We all know how you do it down here at The Crack House, baby, so I’ma ’bout to turn it up real quick; just for you.”
I wave him on as Rick Ross’s “9 Piece” starts blastin’ through the speakers. Fuck a damn nine-piece. Give me a nine-inch—long and hard, and I’m good. I strut over toward the bar, iggin’ the few niggahs tryna get my attention. Ain’t no need to be eyein’ me ’cause I’m not doin’ ’em unless they buyin’ drinks, or they one of my sponsors. Otherwise, I ain’t got nothin’ for none of ’em. Not tonight.
But I do stop and talk to a few of Darius’ boys, with their fine, fuckable selves. It’s three of ’em sittin’ at one of the tables near the door, poppin’ bottles of champagne. I can see it in their eyes that they’re all blazed ’n bubbled up real nice from blunts and bubbly. “Damn, Miss Simms, you stay lookin’ fly; for real for real,” the one everyone calls Scooter says. He’s tall—exactly how I like, maybe six-three, thin and chiseled. And you know what they say about them thin, boney-ass niggahs, don’t you? Mmmph. They all dick, shugah. And so far I ain’t been wrong yet.
I eye him. “Scooter, boo. I’ma always keep my sexy on high, baby. I’m too damn fly not to.”
