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Chrishayden
"Cyniquian" Level Poster
Username: Chrishayden
Post Number: 5692
Registered: 03-2004
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Monday, November 05, 2007 - 11:20 am: | 
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Another selection from the short story that will appear in Zane's forthcoming anthology, "Chocolate Flava 2"
Caution--dirty words and deeds abound!
As you recall, LaTisha Jenkins has retained the services of Sharpetta Kensington, Ace Private Investigator, to get the goods on her cheating spouse.
A little later they pulled up in front of a one story white wooden house in a quiet part of town.
"Snug little fuckpad ain't it?" Sharpetta said.
"When I'm through with him he'll wish he was doing time in Guantanamo Bay!" LaTisha said." I don't see his car,"
"He's a slick dawg," Sharpetta said. "Parks his car across town and takes a cab here. Ready?"
They went to the door. LaTisha stood out of sight while Sharpetta knocked.
"Who is it?" a man answered.
"We the girls for the party," Sharpetta said.
When the door opened they bumrushed the show.
"I'm a private investigator and this is LaTisha Jenkins, Sam Jenkins's wife," Sharpetta said, her hand on the gat in her shoulder bag. "Don't start no static, won't be none."
They stepped into a living room thick with incense and chronic smoke. Gaudy purple wallpaper and crotch shots from Black Tail Magazine on the walls, big fat green silk harem pillows on the floor, red bulbs in lamps turned down low and Tupac’s “How Do You Want It” bumpin’ on the box--it looked like the waiting room of a Las Vegas whorehouse with furnishings by Snoop Dogg
Two guys cut and buff as a couple of Chocolate Chippendales and clad only in cutoff jeans, were standing in the middle of the floor looking tres busted.
LaTisha gazed at their rippling torsos, the bulges in the crotches of their tight jeans and their buns of steel and wondered if maybe Sam was on the Down Low.
For a New York minute Sharpetta stared at them like her eyes would buck out of her head. Then she was all business.
"Where the hell is Sam Jenkins!" she demanded.
"Never heard of him," one of the hot studs said.
"Goin' for bad, eh? I got something for your ass,” Sharpetta said showing them her Glock. "In the back!” she shouted. "I’m gonna to get to the bottom of this!" Mumbling protests, they did as they were told.
LaTisha flopped down on a pillow. She felt drained
How long had Sam been involved in some shit like you saw on “Cheaters”. How could he? How—
Suddenly LaTisha heard fearsome noise coming from the back. Bloodcurdling screams, cussing, calling on Jesus and unholy bumpin' and jumpin'—it sounded like The Rock and Booker T. wrasslin a wildcat in a one-stall shithouse!
They got the drop on Sharpetta! LaTisha thought. Call the police! No! Not enough time! She rushed out of the living room, down a short hall and to the door of the room from whence the hellacious racket came—
And stopped. They'd got the drop all right—on Sharpetta’s drawers! All of them was buck nekkid on a bed (Sharpetta still sportin’ her gangsta lid. She was whacking the dudes off and when she got them good and hard she started blowing them first one, then the other, then both same time and simultaneously!
The men's eyes rolled up in so only the whites showed, they groaned and grimaced in ecstasy! Then, slick as an acrobat from the UniverSoul circus, Sharpetta switched position so one of the dudes could •••• her doggy style while she sucked the other one's cock until they all came and collapsed in a sweaty satiated heap!
LaTisha was a married woman and no prude but she had never seen such mad scandalous fucking! When she was satisfied that they were still breathing, she wobbled back to the front room.
A little later Sharpetta rejoined her. Her clothes were disheveled, her hat was cocked ace deuce, and her hair was sticking every which way from under it. She had to lean against the wall for support.
"That's all for now!" she croaked weakly to the dudes in the back. "Don't leave town!"
Loud snores were their only reply.
When they got back to the car LaTisha jumped in Sharpetta's shit with both feet
"Look babe, in my racket you got to do what you have to get the dope," Sharpetta snapped, trying to get her face together in the rear view mirror. "You ought to commend my willingness to sacrifice my virtue for the cause."
"”Babe”? “Racket? You sound like that dykey female cop on “The Wire"!
Sharpetta looked at LaTisha out of the corner of her eye a minute, then, grinning slyly, set a damp wad of cash on the dashboard.
"What is this?" LaTisha asked.
"Your cut," Sharpetta said.
"My cut of what?"
"What them sorry sacks of shit was supposed to give the hoes," she snickered.
“Good God, Mama! Call the Police!" LaTisha groaned.
"Hey! Slow your roll, cutie pie," Sharpetta said, starting up the car. " Your man was here all right but he left. Those two mopes gave up the address he cut out to. If we are quick we can get right over there and bust him!"
******
Copyright Chris Hayden 2007 |
Wfcooper
Newbie Poster
Username: Wfcooper
Post Number: 5
Registered: 12-2007
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Thursday, December 27, 2007 - 06:47 pm: |
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YOU PERVERT YOU... (LOL) Seriously, I can't wait to read your story in its entirety, you freak you. LOL I contributed to Caramel Flava, Sistergirls.com and Dear G-Spot: Straight Talk About Sex and Love. Writing Erotica is such an escape, isn't it? |
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