I Use To Love You: A Hood Chick's Revenge

I Use to Love You: A Hood Chick’s Revenge

by

Shaun Wanzo

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© 2015 

Published by Leo Sullivan Presents

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All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

Synopsis – I Use To Love You

Phat Kat thought she hit the lottery the night she met Ivan. He’s a ghetto superstar who promises to take her out the ratchet Black Leopard strip club and upgrade her lifestyle if she is willing to follow his lead. After proving herself as a more than capable and sexy diversion during the robbery of the strip club owner, Phat Kat retires from the strip pole and becomes Ivan’s ride or dies chick on lick after lick. But after six years of playing Bonnie to Ivan’s Clyde, her whole world is flipped upside down after they rob a famous rapper for a million dollars in Las Vegas.

Ivan’s been creeping with her best friend, Kim K., a sexy white chick with a face and ass like the reality star. They decide there was no longer any room for three when they try to kill Phat Kat in a Las Vegas motel room. After a fierce battle, Phat Kat survives and now becomes the hunter.

Despite being stranded in Las Vegas with nothing but the clothes on her back, Phat Kat vows to do whatever it takes to get back to Milwaukee. Where she will seek her revenge on Ivan and Kim K.

I Use To Love You

(Flashback)

“I was in that muthafuckin club all damn night and only have two hundred dollars to show for it,” I said to my best friend Kim K., as we walked out of the side entrance of the Black Leopard strip club at about three in the morning.

“Bitch who you tellin’. You about forty more dollars to the good than me.” Kim Kolby whipped her long jet black ponytail to the side a couple of times as we walked to her old ass Dodge Intrepid. She was a hood ass white bitch that had a lot of the same features as Kim Kardashian. She had the slim waist, big ole ass, perky breasts that sat up like an Escalade in thirty inch Forgis and an appetite for black dick. Throw in her name and it wasn’t hard to understand why we called her Kim K.

I was just about to throw my bag into my best friend’s back seat when a pearl white drop top Corvette parked in front of the club and started honking its horn.

“Damn Phat Kat, check that shit out. I wonder which one of these ratchet bitches that nigga Ivan here to scoop up.”

They called me Phat Kat because I was known for having a fat ass pussy. Niggas said my shit looked like those posters of Nikki Minaj and Lil Kim when they were dropped down low with their legs cocked open. I was a bad bitch all the way around. At five feet, seven inches, with breasts for days and ass for weeks, I was about the only bitch in the club that could give Kim K. a run for her money. Except I had a golden brown complexion with the eyes to match.

“Hey you!” Me and Kim K. pointed to ourselves and said ‘
who me?’
at the same time.

“You in the blue jeans and baby blue halter top. Come here so I can holla at you.”

I looked over at Kim K. She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Bitch what you stallin’ for? That nigga is caked up and he’s fine. Hmph, you wouldn’t have to tell me twice.”

“You right girl. I’ll be back.”

I walked so fast over to that pretty ass Vette, I might as well have ran. I was so excited I had butterflies in my stomach. Ivan’s name was rolling off every bitch and nigga’s tongue in Milwaukee. Even though I was a bad bitch and use to a lot of attention, I was only eighteen and the thought of such a repped up nigga showing interest in me blew my mind.

“What type of bitch are you?” I was so mesmerized by the diamonds in his ears and around his neck that I almost didn’t hear his question.

“Um huh? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” he positioned himself in his seat so that we could look into each other’s eyes. “You’re either a dumb bitch or a scared bitch. So which one is it?”

I guess you could say that I was a dumb bitch for not snapping about the way he was coming at me but I was too hooked on how smooth his dark brown skin was. His white Sean John polo shirt and matching shorts looked fresh from off a shelf in Macy’s. The nigga looked and smelled like money. He hadn’t even touched me and he had a bitch’s pussy soaked.

“A young bad bitch like yourself has to either be too dumb or too stupid to not realize that she could be doing a lot better for herself.” He pulled a thick knot of big faces out of his pockets and held it up so I could get a good look at it. He then slowly ran his hand over his 360 waves with the taper on the side.

“Are you tired of shaking your ass for chump change at the most Bama strip club in the Mil?”

I nodded my head with my eyes still glued to the money he was holding.

“You wanna fuck with a real money getting nigga like me?”

I nodded my head even faster. Ivan stuffed the money in his pocket then leaned over and grabbed a chrome .45 from the glove compartment. He pointed it at the short, fat bald owner of the Black Leopard who came out of the front door and locked it behind him.

“Tell him all of the freaky shit you’ll do to him if he takes you home. I’ll be right behind you.” Ivan looked at the chrome .45 like he wanted to kiss it.

“Go prove you ain’t no dumb or scared bitch.”

I got out of that pretty ass pearl white Vette and did as my new nigga told me. A hot summer night in the Mil-Town got even hotter.

(Present Day)

Me and my nigga Ivan, walked into the lobby of the Venetian Hotel hand in hand. Our vic is this big time rappin nigga, L.V. the Don, and his body guard were about twenty feet ahead of us and moving towards the elevators. Ivan smacked me on the ass and whispered
“go”
in my ear before he spun off to go chill in the lobby until he got my text.

So I hurried across the lavish ass lobby of the Venetian with my peach Christian Louboutin heels clicking against the marble floor, and my silk peach Versace dress hugging every curve on my flawless body. There wasn’t a man or bitch in that hotel lobby who could keep their eyes off my banging ass body. But getting to L.V. the Don was all that was on my mind. Six years later and I was still trying to prove myself to Ivan. I stuck my hand between the elevator doors right before they closed shut.

“Catch the next one shawty.” L.V. the Don’s big ass body guard stiff armed me as I tried to enter the elevator.

“I’m yo biggest fan L.V.” I said as I ducked low and blocked the elevators from closing again. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll be yo biggest groupie.”

L.V. the Don smiled from ear to ear, showing off his grill that was full of diamonds and yellow gold.

“You and every other bitch in Vegas. Beat it shawty.” The big ass country nigga had the nerve to kick at me. I couldn’t wait to give these country ass niggas what they had coming.

“I’ll make both you niggas cum before we make it up to yo floor.”

“Say what, shawty.” This time the bodyguard held the elevator doors open. “Boss, you wanna see what shawty workin wit?”

“Let shawty do what she do,” L.V. the Don instructed.

I strutted into the elevator like my pussy was made of gold. I didn’t say shit when I got on my knees between them. But my swag was on some shit like:
‘yeah I’m that bitch’
.

Both of them niggas was black as tar, fat and ugly as a muthafucka. The only difference between L.V. the Don and his bodyguard, who looked like a big ole bald headed grizzly bear, was that he was caked up. Money can’t buy you love but it for damn sure could make you look good.

“You got twenty floors to make it happen, shawty. You betta get on yo job.” His bodyguard let the elevator doors close and unzipped his black Akoo jeans.

L.V. the Don was holding his big face iPhone 6 above me as if he was going to record the episode. The nigga was just smiling away as if he really had the upper hand and the joke was on me. I played the role for the simple ass nigga. I blew his ass kisses and put on my best sexy face, like I couldn’t wait to taste his dick.
“You better enjoy it.”

His country ass was showing out on Instagram. He posted a pic of him posing with a mil-ticket in the suite we were on our way up to.
“It ain’t nuthin to blow a million in Vegas”
was posted underneath the pic. The rap nigga never even considered he had a gangster and a down for anything bitch as Instagram followers. From the brown and tan leather fisherman’s hat sitting on top of his short dreads to the matching smock, shorts, and high tops on his feet, L.V. the Don was draped in Louis Vuitton. At least the country boy was going to die looking good.

The elevator started going up as I started putting my head game down on these country niggas. I was slobbering and slurping and sucking on L.V.’ s dick while I gently massaged his balls with the tips of my nails. His bodyguard sounded as if he might nut at any moment and all I was doing was jagging him off with my free hand.

I could tell he was a big ole freaky tender dick muthafucka. It was always the biggest and toughest niggas who ended up being the softest behind closed doors. But I gotta to keep it real, they both were strapped up like some god damn horses. Both of those country boys were long and thick and black as coal, like two anacondas.

“Damn shawty. Uh, um, god damn.” L.V. the Don took a couple steps back and rested against the side of the elevator that was made completely of glass. We were turned up, not giving a fuck about the muthafuckas down below in the mall and on the river in boats like they have in Venice, Italy. It was my first time in Vegas and it kind of blew my mind how there hotels had some of everything in them.

I pulled L.V.’s thick and juicy shaft out of my mouth and spat directly on the head. I made sure to look him in the eye when I stuck his dick as far down my throat as I could. It was getting hard for that country rapping nigga to keep his eyes open and I felt a little bend in his knees. I kept stroking his bodyguard, making sure to rub my thumb over the head of his big ole black dick.

“God damn shawty. Let me get sum of that mouth. Damn yo hand is soft. Ooh, shit.” I ran my thumb along the little line underneath his shaft a few times and that weak ass country nigga exploded.

“Fuck, shawty. Ooooh, god damn now.” I jacked his ass off as fast as I could until he stumbled sideways. “You did that shit, shawty. You’s a cold bitch, damn.”

I left the big ole grizzly bear looking nigga to catch his breath while I worked on his boss. I never stopped bobbing in rhythm as I gripped L.V.’s dick with both hands and went into Karrine Superhead Steffans mode. I got to flicking my wrist like I was revving the engine of a bike and slurping and slobbering and sucking as hard and loud as I could.

“Ah, ooooh, shit, ooooh.” He grabbed the back of my head and exploded inside of my mouth. “Swallow that shit bitch. God damn shawty. Ooooohweeeee.” His punk ass gripped the back of my head so tight I couldn’t do nothing but swallow. So I drank that ugly ass nigga’s babies, knowing he was going to be at my mercy in a matter of minutes.

We all got ourselves straightened up just before the doors popped upon on his floor. Them two country niggas rushed me to the door of their penthouse suite like I was the president. They had to be thinking that the pussy was probably going to be even better than the head but I was too busy plotting on the million dollars his dumb ass had flashed on Instagram.

Those pussy hungry tricks had no idea that they were fucking with a scheming ass bitch. I slid my hand into my Coco Chanel bag and sent the text to my nigga Ivan, he’d been down in the lobby waiting on it. Once them country niggas had me inside of the suite they got aggressive as if they were trying to take it. They were pulling and yanking on my silk Versace dress as if they hadn’t had any in the last twenty years.

“Let me take it off myself. Y’all going to ruin an expensive ass dress.”

“Take it off then shawty. A nigga ready to see what that pussy like.” The bodyguard dropped his Akoo jeans and boxer shorts and got to stroking his dick and licking his lips. I was thinking that his one minute ass was going to bust before I got the dress off.

L.V. the Don sat on the back of one of those huge sofas that didn’t look all exotic but was still expensive as hell. He had his dick out with that cocky ass smile on his face. Little did he know there wasn’t going to be anything for him to smile about in a minute. I slowly stepped out of my Christine Louboutins and set my Coco Chanel bag down next to my heels.

“Come on shawty. You was tryin’ to party, so what’s the hold up?” L.V. the Don wagged his dick at me. “Crawl to me shawty, come get this dick.”

Then came a knock on the door. I hoped it was the one I’d been waiting on.

“Say mane, we didn’t order shit. Get lost.” The bodyguard looked to his boss when the knocking kept up.

“It’s probably mo bitches, mane. They always find out where we stayin’.”

The bodyguard pulled his jeans and boxers up enough so he could make it to the door. He was grinning like the silly clown he was until he opened the door. Ivan smacked him in the face with the same chrome .45 he had the night we met. Teeth and blood exploded out of his mouth.

“You know who I am mane?” L.V. the Don struggled to fasten his leather Louis Vuitton shorts.

I reached in my purse, grabbed my 9 mm Millennium with the silencer and popped that country bumpkin in the thigh. He dropped to the marble floor howling like some wounded animal in the backwoods of a Pine-Bluff, Arkansas; where he grew up.

“Shut your punk ass up or I’ll shoot you in the other thigh.” That country nigga shot his eyes tight and bit down hard on his lips. I looked down at the country boy holding his thigh and sweating like a big ole Arkansas Razorback. The nigga talked all of that hard shit on his songs and he was whimpering like a little bitch. It made me want to put a bullet right between his eyes.

Ivan slipped on black leather gloves before he locked the door. He then screwed the silencer onto the .45 and popped the bodyguard in the forehead and two more times in the chest for good measure. L.V. really started panicking when Ivan walked over with the chrome .45 aimed at his head.

Even with the smell of money and death in the air, I took a moment to admire just how good my nigga looked in his white linen Armani shirt and pants and the dark brown Armani loafers on his feet.

“Where’s the money nigga?” Ivan squatted down and jammed his strap into L.V.’s neck. “And I ain’t talking about the chump change in your pockets. I want the million dollars you were flashing on Instagram yesterday.”