Wifey, Part 1 Read online

  Just then I heard a knock at the door of my motel room. “Simone, I gotta go, but keep your phone on in case I need you,” I said.

  “Definitely.”

  I turned my phone off and put it away. There was another knock at my door. I paused to gather myself, blowing out some air from my lungs in an attempt to decompress. Mia had really worked my nerves, and I had a job to do, so the last thing I wanted was for my mind to be on drama.

  After I was done gathering myself, I made it to the door and opened it after looking through the peephole.

  “Hey, Chyna?”

  “Yes. Hi.” I tried to make my smile as natural as possible. Chyna was my escort name. “Mike, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I could tell Mike was nervous, which always made me feel a bit more comfortable. That way it would help me feel a bit more assured that I wasn’t dealing with a cop.

  “So is this your first time?” I asked Mike as I closed the door behind him. I was wearing a nice form-fitted top, tight jeans, and black high heels.

  “Yes, and no. Yes, it’s my first time with a black girl, but no, it’s not my first time.”

  I smiled then double-checked the door to make sure that it had definitely slam-locked.

  “Oh, well, I feel special then. You know what they say. Once you go black, you’ll never go back.”

  Mike laughed. I could tell he was starting to feel a bit more relaxed.

  “Well, Mike, you can have a seat on the bed. You can get comfortable, and what I’ll do is, I’ll go into the bathroom and freshen up, and in the meantime you can put any gifts that you have for me right there on the table or next to the TV.

  Mike nodded, indicating that he understood where I was coming from.

  I made my way into the bathroom of the motel room I had booked for the day. It wasn’t the nicest of motels, but it was located not too far from Kennedy Airport, which meant that I would profit more from the money I earned turning tricks and at the same time I didn’t have to travel too far to get my money.

  Nobody knew about my secret hustle, and there wasn’t any way in hell that I would’ve ever told anybody how I got down. I rolled totally independent, so there was no one pimping me or none of that, and I planned to keep things that way. But, on the real, I hated each and every trick I turned and couldn’t wait until I could find another way to maintain my lifestyle without working and going to school. As far as I was concerned, fucking for money wasn’t the best option for me, but it wasn’t exactly the worst either. And with Shabazz’s unpredictable ass, it wasn’t like I could definitely depend on him for cash, so I had to do what I had to do.

  In the bathroom I quickly changed into my white stilettos, a white see-through thong, and a white see-through bra. I had already taken a shower, but as part of my routine with each john, I took a warm washcloth and slid it across my shaved pussy, and then I took some perfume and sprayed some on my chest, neck, wrists, and on my panties. I took some Scope mouthwash and swooshed it around in my mouth and then spat it out before exiting the bathroom.

  “Wow! That’s a transformation,” Mike said.

  I gave him a fake smile, but at this point I was strictly concerned with my money. I headed straight to the table, located on the opposite end of the room. The nine crisp twenty-dollar bills brought a real genuine smile to my face. Mike had paid for one hour’s worth of pussy. I gathered the money and told him that he could get undressed. Then I walked back to the bathroom and placed the money in my bag. Afterwards I retrieved a condom, which I held in my left hand, and I also retrieved my cell phone, which I held in my right. I made a fake call to my voice mail and returned to the room, where Mike could see me on the phone, and asked him to give me one minute.

  “Yeah. Yes, I’m OK,” I said into the phone, acting like I was talking to someone. Just in case Mike was some psycho-ass serial killer, it would make him think twice. “One hour. OK cool,” I added before hanging up the phone.

  By this time Mike was undressed, and I walked over to him and told him to lay back and relax. Mike followed my instructions and laid on his back. I took the bottle of baby oil from on the nightstand next to the bed and poured some into my hands and rubbed them together before massaging Mike’s chest.

  “You are so beautiful,” Mike said. “What nationality are you?”

  “Oh, thank you. I’m all black. Parents are from the South.”

  I hated all this small talk shit, but I had to do it because that was how I built repeat clientele.

  After massaging Mike’s chest, I reached my hands behind me and took hold of his dick and began to stroke it.

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen, just like my Craigslist ad said I was. My birthday is next month. I’ll be twenty on the fifteenth.”

  By this time Mike had closed his eyes and had stopped with all the damn questions. His dick was hard, and I was hoping that he hadn’t been drinking, or that he wasn’t one of those dudes who took forever to come.

  “Can I kiss you?” Mike asked me.

  I smiled and shook my head no. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why in the hell all of these dirty-ass dudes would want to kiss me. Kissing is part of lovemaking. We’re fucking. Big difference.

  “You can touch me, though.” I took Mike’s hand and guided it to my pussy.

  He started to rub on my clit, but I wasn’t the slightest bit turned on. I was just thankful that Mike was somewhat handsome, and he smelled good, so those two factors helped me make like I was into it. At the same time I wanted to hurry up and get this shit over with.

  I took the condom out of the wrapper, placed it in my mouth, and then I went down on Mike and placed the condom on his dick, using only my mouth.

  “I never seen anyone do that in my life!” Mike said as I started sucking his dick.

  “I bet I can show you another trick. How do you want it? Me on top? From the back?”

  Mike told me he wanted me on top, so I quickly mounted his dick and slid it into my pussy and started riding him. As I rode him, I twisted my hips into him like I was dancing to reggae music, at the same time doing pussy-tightening techniques.

  “You feel that?” I asked him.

  Mike smiled a big Kool-Aid smile and nodded his head yes.

  “You like my pussy, daddy?” I said directly into Mike’s ear.

  I leaned toward him and ran my tongue back and forth on his earlobe, while continuing to work my pussy. I could tell Mike was into it and loving my pussy because of the way he grabbed my ass and how hard he started pumping his dick in and out of me.

  “Yes, daddy!” I screamed. I still wasn’t into the sex like that, but dudes loved it when I made them feel like they were killing my shit. I had no problem being an actress.

  As I continued contracting my pussy on his dick, I could feel he was about to come. I had to encourage him so that we could get this over with.

  “You gonna come for me, daddy?”

  “Oh yeah!”

  “You gonna come in my black pussy? I wanna feel you come, baby.” I knew black pussy was all I needed to say for Mike to pop his cork.

  “Uggggh! I’m coming! I’m coming in your fuckin’ black pussy!”

  I quickly got up because I never played that shit and let a dude come and then have him all up in my pussy. Anything could happen—a condom could break, come could leak out, anything. I got up and stroked his dick with my hand, so he could get the final effects of any tingling sensations running through his body.

  “That was one of the best orgasms I ever had,” Mike said to me as he lay on the bed breathing hard.

  I got up from the bed and kissed him on the cheek and smiled. I didn’t want to totally be rude, since I still was working on any tip that he might have wanted to throw my way.

  “I hope that mea
ns I’ll see you again?” I asked, hoping Mike would take the cue and leave.

  Thankfully Mike was in a hurry and didn’t want to come a second time. He tipped me twenty dollars, and we had about five minutes of small talk before he left to go home to his wife and kids. The twenty-dollar tip was OK, about ten percent. But nowadays even waitresses are tipped twenty-five percent or better.

  Although it was early, I wasn’t in the mood for no more clients, so I didn’t bother to take out my laptop and run any more online ads. Instead I took a shower, got dressed, and called a cab to take me back home. On my ride home, I called Nico. I was going to call him from my regular phone, but instead I decided to call him from the prepaid phone I used for my escorting.

  Nico’s phone rang out to voice mail, but I didn’t leave a message. I figured he probably didn’t answer numbers he didn’t recognize. I decided to just take my chances and shoot him a text message. I knew exactly how to test the waters.

  Hey, Nico, this is Jasmine. When you can, give me a call I just wanted to tell you something about my man.

  Five minutes after I sent that text, the cab was pulling up to my house, and my cell phone rang. It was Nico.

  “Hello,” I said, answering the phone.

  “Jasmine, what’s good?”

  “Yeah, I just wanted to tell you that I don’t really know what’s going on, but just between me and you, the other night Shabazz came by my house for a quick minute and he was saying how you got him out here still on salary and starving while less loyal niggas is working on a percentage.”

  “He was telling you that? Where the fuck that nigga been at?”

  “I don’t know, but he was crazy, saying shit like, ‘Hungry dogs ain’t loyal because they’ll eat you alive,’ and it was just weird, like I never seen him like that before, I don’t really know for sure, but you know how you get the feeling that somebody is scheming or something? Well, he ain’t say no names, but I just get the feeling that somebody is plotting on you. I ain’t saying it’s him, but I’m just saying.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I feel you. I mean, I been trying to holla at the nigga, but he been ghost, you know what I mean? Shit is real fucked up out on these streets right now, and these cats that you thought was down with you, they be switching up sides,” Nico replied.

  “I been tryin’ to tell him that he shouldn’t just be outta reach the way he is, but just like I was tellin’ Mia, I can’t get through to him,” I exaggerated and said.

  Nico was quiet for a moment, and so was I.

  Nico asked, “You know where he at right now?”

  “Nope,” I replied nonchalantly but truthfully. “He been in and outta town, but I don’t really know where to.”

  “Yeah, a’ight, but if you see him, hit me up, a’ight?”

  “OK, I will, and sorry if I caused you any drama from earlier with my text.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I had accidentally sent Mia the exact same text I had sent you earlier about Shabazz,” I lied. “And when I realized it was her phone, I told her to disregard, but she flipped the fuck out.”

  “And she called you?” he asked with a bit of an attitude.

  “Yeah, she was buggin’ out, cursing and threatening to come to my crib and all that. I was like, ‘Waaow! Are you serious?’” I chuckled slightly, trying to make Mia seem like she had wilded out in an uncalled for way.

  “When the fuck was this?”

  “Today, not too long ago.”

  “If she went through my phone, I’ll fuck her ass up for that ignorant shit!”

  “No, it’s OK. It’s fine. I know you probably already got enough on your mind, so don’t even bring it up. Mia probably just don’t understand, unless she’s a nag like that all the time,” I said, trying my best to sound compassionate and still take a shot at her.

  Nico didn’t respond to me, so I continued talking, to keep the conversation flowing.

  “I never did get up with you that night,” I reminded him.

  “That was on you.”

  “That was then, though. What’s up with now?”

  Nico explained that he had to shoot to Miami in the morning for Mia’s photo shoot for J. Lo and that he would get up with me as soon as he got back.

  “Oh, so she models? I did a couple of music videos, and I’m trying to get heavier into modeling,” I told him.

  “Yeah, that’s what’s up. Yo, I gotta bounce. I’ll get with you, though.”

  “Oh, OK.”

  Nico randomly asked, “You still grown, right?”

  “What did you say?” I could tell my smile was detectable through the phone.

  “You know what I’m asking you.”

  I paused before replying. “I gotchu,” I said with a slight chuckle.

  Nico added, “That’s all I needed to know,” before we ended the call.

  I was feeling flattered because I knew Nico wanted to sex me, and I couldn’t wait to put it on his sexy ass. Plus, with Mia talking shit, it just gave me more incentive to fuck her man and prove I could have him if I wanted him.

  CHAPTER 11

  Nico

  Although I was now living really comfortable on the North Shore of Long Island, I was originally from the streets of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Since I was from the streets, I was familiar with South Jamaica, Queens, where I was headed to meet Jasmine so that I could bring her to my man’s auto body shop to take care of the damage to her father’s car. Jasmine had sent me a text message with her address, and I gave the address to my driver and reclined in the backseat of my all-black Maybach Landaulet until we reached 109th Avenue, right off Guy R. Brewer Boulevard.

  “Jasmine, you live in a white house?” I asked just to confirm I was in the right spot. I had already circled the block to make sure Shabazz wasn’t laying in the cut somewhere waiting to set my ass up.

  “Yeah, on One Hundred and Ninth Avenue. One block from Forty projects.”

  “No doubt. So, yo, I’m outside your crib. You ready?”

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be right out.”

  From behind the curtain of my rear window, I was able to see when Jasmine finally came out of her house. She looked around to see where I was parked, but she had no idea which car I was in. I pulled back the curtain that hid my face from the public, rolled down the window, and called her name. I got her attention.

  Jasmine quickly walked across the street. She was wearing a nice short black leather coat, jeans, and construction Timberland boots.

  “Wow! Look at you, looking all presidential and e’rythang.” Jasmine chuckled. “I love this car! Let me find out you a quarterback for the New York Jets or something.” Jasmine knew I was getting money. “And I can’t believe you got a driver!”

  Ignoring her last comment, I asked, “So you got the car? I don’t see it,” I said through the window, not making a move to get out of my vehicle.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s in the garage.”

  “OK, so pull out and follow my car. The spot ain’t too far. It’s on Merrick in Valley Stream, right near Rosedale.” I turned my attention toward my driver. “Henry we’re going to City Autobody. Also the Lexus with the pretty young lady will be following us, so be mindful.”

  “Yes sir.”

  It took us all of ten minutes to arrive at the body shop. When we arrived, Henry parked, got out and made his way to my door, and opened it for me. I walked up to Jasmine, who was in the driver’s seat, parked behind my car, and told her to pull up to the bay off to the far right. After she did that, I signaled for her to turn off the engine and to come to me.

  As Jasmine walked toward me, I couldn’t help but notice and reconfirm just how sexy she was. The last time I had seen her, it was in a dark nightclub. She had looked good that night, but that night she was dressed sexier.
I always liked when a chick could rock sweat pants and socks or any other regular-looking outfit like Jasmine was presently wearing and still look good. It was about one in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly, so I was able to get a really good look at what she was working with. I could tell that she had some hoodrat tendencies, but that didn’t detract from the fact that she was just naturally beautiful and had a body that wouldn’t quit. And she also had a sexy walk.

  “You rocking Timbs just because I’m rocking ’em,” I teasingly said to Jasmine. I had on a brand new pair of True Religion jeans, a brand-new long-sleeve button-up Burberry polo shirt, and a leather coat.

  Jasmine smiled but didn’t say anything.

  As we made our way into the shop, I informed Jasmine, “My man Tony owns this spot. He’s an Italian dude from Howard Beach. He’s cool as hell. I already told him I was coming through with you.”

  Tony was sitting behind the counter along with one of the girls who worked the front counter. He was leaning backwards in a desk chair with wheels.

  I said to Tony, “You keep leaning back like that, and you gonna buss your muthafuckin’ ass.”

  Tony turned and saw that it was me. “Ohhh, Nicoooo! My man.” He stood up and came from around the counter and gave me a pound and a quick embrace.

  “What’s the deal with you?” Tony said with his Italian accent. “You tell me two other times you were coming then I don’t see you. I thought you took the car to somebody else.”

  “Nah, we just had conflicts trying to link up. Then I was outta town in South Beach for a minute, so you know how it goes.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m so friggin’ busy in here, I don’t even have time to count all the money I’m making,” Tony joked. “Then I got the old lady always on my ass, nagging about something. It’s crazy.”

  “Mo’ money, mo’ problems,” I told him.

  Tony nodded his head toward Jasmine, and when he got her attention, he said to her, “You see this guy right here? He’s a good fuckin’ dude. He’s the best. I knew him since we were ten years old. We played basketball together.”