Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick (7 page)

Apple cut her eyes at him. “You’ll never find out.”

Dink laughed. “Whateva!”

A half-hour later, the truck pulled up to the projects, and Apple jumped out, ready to depart ways with everyone. She looked at her friends and asked, “Y’all comin’?”

Ayesha and Mesha hesitated. Trey had his hand between Ayesha’s thighs, fingering her pussy, and Mesha was ready to jump in the front seat and keep Dink company.

“Nah, ma, they wanna have a good time tonight,” Dink replied.

“A’ight, whatever,” Apple said.

Mesha jumped into the front seat with Dink, and before the truck pulled off, she hollered out the window, “Call me, girl!”

Apple just kept walking into her building. When she reached the elevator, she ran into Supreme coming out of the stairway. He was alone and eyed Apple with a stare that sent chills down her spine.

“You gettin’ my money, right?” he asked.

“I got ya money,” Apple snapped back with attitude.

Supreme smiled. “Just checkin’ up on you, but you lookin’ nice tonight. I like that.”

When he reached out to gently rub the small of her back, Apple moved away from him. The elevator doors opened, and she quickly got in. As the doors closed, she stood there with Supreme watching her from the lobby with an eerie smile. She shook her head and knew he might be a problem soon.

CHAPTER 6

K
ola got into the backseat of the waiting cab, wearing a brown tight-fitting khaki dress and a pair of stilettos. She oozed with sex appeal and beauty, with all her curves showing perfectly. The men on the corner couldn’t take their eyes off of her as they watched her get in the cab.

“Damn!” one male shouted.

Kola smiled, knowing she had those thirsty-ass wannabes drooling. They could look, but they couldn’t touch.

It was late night, with midnight creeping up on the hour, and Kola had business to attend to. She was off to a strip club in Brooklyn to check out a dancer that was supposed to be so sexy and fine, she was packing the club to capacity any night she worked.

Kola was willing to travel into Brooklyn alone and talk business. She was from the streets and knew how to handle herself very well. Mike-Mike, usually her backup, was making an out-of-town run for Cross, but Kola felt secure enough to travel alone. She was used to it. Her name was known in Harlem, and nobody fucked with her. She was an uptown girl—a Harlem chick—and her name had weight because of the dudes she rolled with. But Brooklyn was a different story. Out there, she was just an average pretty bitch with an attitude.

She told the driver, “Take me to Sunset Park.”

Without traffic, it was a thirty-minute drive through any of the bridges or tunnels that traveled into Brooklyn. Once Kola reached her destination, she handed the driver a crisp hundred-dollar bill to cover the fifty-dollar fare, leaving a generous tip.

The strip club, located off Fourth Avenue on a back street in Brooklyn, was in a second-floor loft, with tight security at the entrance. Kola strutted to the place in all her glory, looking twice her age and feeling confident about the night.

She approached the two beefy security guards and asked, “What’s the cover charge?”

The men looked at her, knowing she was a new face.

“You dancing?” one of them asked.

“Why you askin’?”

“Tip in is twenty-five,” the other stated.

Kola reached into her bag and gave the man two twenties. “You can keep that,” she said with a smirk.

“Oh, you a baller, huh?”

“I get mines.”

He chuckled and said, “A’ight, just watch your back out here.”

Kola smiled as he waved the wand across her body and searched through her purse for any illegal weapons.

When she was cleared, he said, “You good. Just go upstairs, second floor.”

Kola walked up the stairway in her steep heels and entered the dimmed room with rap music blaring and a crowd of patrons. She was impressed. The loft was huge and full of life, with a doorway that exited out into an open, elevated area that overlooked Brooklyn.

The raised stage had two naked big-booty strippers on it working hard for their dollars and was surrounded by men tossing money, that thirsty look on their faces. And the strippers had no shame in their game. They were working hard for their money.

Kola needed a drink. She looked around. The crowd and strippers were predominantly black, with a sprinkling of Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and whites.

One dude gently grabbed her by the arm and asked, “You dancing, love? I never saw you here before.”

Kola looked at him and wasn’t impressed. She’d been feeling men watching her the minute she’d stepped into the place, but this one looked like he needed to pay to get pussy. Black and overweight, he had no style to him with his shapeless jeans and scruffy appearance, and his breath reeked. He had a Heineken in his hand and gazed at Kola as if longing for what he couldn’t have.

“No, thank you,” she politely replied, quickly moving herself away from him and walking closer to the stage.

Kola was looking around for a girl named Chyna Doll, who a male friend had put her up on. He let it be known to her that Chyna Doll was young and down for whatever, a freak, and a raving beauty with looks that many would kill for.

“Yo, Kola, this chick is off the hook, fo’ real,” the young kid had told her. “I’m telling you, she sucked my dick like gravity was in her mouth.”

Kola needed more than a freak. She needed an elite stable of young hoes like herself down for whatever. She had planned on putting together an event—a sex party where people would pay admission. With the right girls who had good pussy and great head game, the men she invited would pay to play, and Kola needed the best.

She had talked to Kandy a few days ago, convincing her to try out one of her parties, and Kandy was down, especially after the dick-down she got from Mike-Mike. So Kola was after the next female to fill her stable of professionals. She wanted the cream of the crop because she was going to hit muthafuckas with membership fees to join her party. She was about her money and business, and if you didn’t know how to work what your momma gave you, then she couldn’t use you.

Kola looked around the room and observed every naked or scantily clad ho in the place. Some were really nice and sexy with their swag, but a few girls struck her as washed up. She moved to the stage and took a seat in one of the soft leather chairs. She watched a big-booty girl clap her butt cheeks together and then bend over to expose her goodies. She began tipping the stripper with a few dollar bills.

The place was buzzing with activity from corner to corner—lap dances, wall dances, a lot of bumping and grinding, and tricks disappearing into the VIP rooms with their stripper of choice for the night.

Kola noticed a tall beauty with an erotic aura stepping out of the dressing room. Scantily clad in a black baby doll dress that had sheer mesh with a sequined lace hem, cut-out sides, and twin straps, her rich caramel skin seemed to glow with sexiness. Her knee-high leather stilettos seemed to make her almost touch the sky, and her two long pigtails gave her that naughty-schoolgirl look.

Kola kept her eyes fixated on the girl during her long stride from the dressing room to the stage. She walked with confidence, her exotic, chinky eyes scanning the crowd for potential tricks for the night. Kola already liked her style because the girl portrayed herself as that bitch in the room.

Kola knew that had to be Chyna Doll, because everything about her screamed “confident.” She watched the girl work the stage to Usher’s “There Goes My Baby.” She had a presence about her that made almost every eye in the room stay glued on her.

The tips started flowing her way, but Kola was outdoing the guys by spreading money all over the dancer like a heavy rainfall. Kola watched the stripper move across the stage with style and admired the way she swung herself around the pole with steadiness like a cat.

“What’s your name?” Kola asked the woman as she did a split in front of her and leaned her body forward, showing the crowd just how flexible she was.

“Chyna Doll,” she answered, never missing a beat in her performance.

The men clapped with excitement, their eyes dancing all over her body. The crowd of onlookers grew thicker around the stage as Chyna Doll brought out her bag of goodies and prepared to perform something naughty. She stripped down until she was butt naked, showing the crowd her curves.

Chyna clutched an eight-inch dildo the color of night. Sprawled out on her back, she spread her legs and rammed the thick tool deep into her pussy and fucked herself, making the men yell out. She then released the dildo from her grip and allowed the muscles in her pussy to take over, making the dildo move with the contraction of her vagina. She played with her breasts, pinched her nipples, and allowed the action to go on for a few minutes.

“Oh my God! Shit, girl, I got next,” one onlooker joked.

The crowd laughed over the loud music. The DJ had switched up Usher for a more appropriate song—2 Live Crew’s “Pop That Coochie.”

Chyna Doll rolled over on her stomach, the thick, long dildo still inside her, and continued her lewd act without missing a step. She moaned and pressed her ample breasts against the stage, her legs spread wide, pretending she was getting fucked from behind. She took hold of the love tool once more and fucked herself the way she loved to get fucked—fast and rough. Chyna Doll’s flexibility amazed everyone, twisting herself into a pretzel and working the plastic dick into her like it was the real thing.

Kola kept the money flowing. Though she had a hundred dollars in singles, she was so impressed, she even tossed out a few twenties. Chyna Doll smiled and winked at Kola.

After the act with the dildo, Chyna sprayed whipped cream across her breasts and lit herself on fire. Both erotic and dangerous at the same time, it was a sight to see. It was something new to the pack and left everyone wide-eyed. The fire raged for a short while, and then she blew it out.

By this time the stage was littered with money, small and big bills. Chyna was making her ends and causing some jealousy among her coworkers. Her wild act lasted for the next ten minutes, and when she was done, she scooped up her money into one pile. It took her a moment to count it and stash everything in her bag. Still naked, she strutted off the stage, needing to regroup for a moment.

Kola moved quickly in her direction. She tapped Chyna Doll on the shoulder and made it be known that she wanted a VIP session with her.

Chyna Doll smiled and then made a beeline for one of the rooms. She didn’t care. Men or women, money was money, no matter where it came from, and she could regroup anytime.

Kola followed Chyna Doll into one of the VIP rooms and was impressed with her body from head to toe. The woman was so sexy, Kola wanted a taste of her.

“What you lookin’ for?” Chyna Doll asked.

“Your time,” Kola replied.

Kola passed Chyna a C-note, and she took the cash and put it in a safe place. Kola took a seat on the mattress and stared at the sexy, long-legged diva with a devious smile.

Chyna straddled Kola, wrapped her arms around her like Saran Wrap, and slowly began grinding into the young girl’s lap. “You like that?” she asked seductively.

“I do,” Kola said, “but I got somethin’ you might like better.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re sexy and pretty. Not many women genuinely have both. They only think they do.” Kola paused, trying to read Chyna’s face. “You like doing this shit?”

“I make my ends. Why?”

Kola cupped Chyna’s breasts. “I know you don’t know me, but I’m about business myself. I got somethin’ happening, somethin’ that’s nice and safe, and you can make plenty of ends by the end of the night.” Kola stared at Chyna’s beautiful face and knew the men she had set up would fall in love with that face. She slipped her another twenty, just to show she was about that money.

“I’m listening.”

Chyna Doll was somewhat impressed. She knew Kola was young. Like many of the girls she danced with, her age would show behind all the makeup and tight body. Most of the girls in the club were either sixteen or a little older. At twenty-two, Chyna Doll was considered an old
G
, and was one of the few girls over twenty-one in the club. She had been dancing since she was seventeen, knew the ins and outs of the business, and was always looking for the next come-up.

Chyna Doll knew by the tone of Kola’s voice and the way she carried herself that the girl was smart, and had business and street savvy. She knew Kola didn’t dance, because she would have seen her in one club or another. Chyna Doll got around from borough to borough. She’d been in all the underground spots that were jumping, and she never forgot faces.

“I love your swag, boo. You got that shit down right. Men are going to love you, and the shit I got poppin’ off wit’ a friend of mines, I guarantee that you can make a gee or better a night. And you ain’t gotta worry about the bullshit,” Kola assured her.

“You want me to do porn?” Chyna asked, a hint of unwillingness in her tone.

“Nah, I ain’t into anything being recorded. I don’t get down like that. What’s done wit’ us fuckin’ stays wit’ us. You feel me?” Kola spoke like a pimp.