All Or Nothing (11 page)

This was especially true in the strip club environment, where women were basically demeaned by men for their own twisted sexual pleasure, there; lesbianism is rampant and widely accepted, and sometimes even expected. It was no longer nasty or a curse from God to be gay or bisexual. Suddenly, it was cool. Shantell could attest to that. No one shunned or avoided her when they found out she was involved with Lisa.

Now more than ever, Club Champagne was a refuge for her. For Shantell it became more than her workplace, more than a spot where she made her money. It was an escape. She used the club to run away from all the harsh realities of life, like death and poverty. Initially money was the lure. Now she was so emotionally bankrupt, it would take more than currency to get her out of this debt.

Lisa was an exotic-looking African American female. She had soft womanly features, smooth dark skin, long sexy legs and ample amounts of ass and tits. But it was those alluring, slanted oriental eyes that drew Shantell in. What started out as a platonic friendship slowly blossomed into a monogamous relationship.

Within a week’s time, Lisa had moved into Shantell’s place. Their relationship went deeper than sex. They were bound together by something else, a strong dislike for men. Men had done them both wrong at one point or another. This became common ground for an uncommon bond. Although Shantell was still confused about men, Lisa had totally sworn off them completely. She promised herself from here on out she would only have relationships exclusively with women.

Lisa represented more than just good sex to Shantell. She became someone who got the punch line in all her jokes. She was someone who liked Shantell’s style. She was someone who understood Shantell’s struggle. She was someone who accepted her faults, listened to her fears and forgave her mistakes. She was someone who accepted Shantell unconditionally.

Unlike her previous sexual experiences with males, Shantell found pleasure in her sexual encounters with Lisa. Not sometimes but all the time, she was sexually gratified. In the past, she had had sex with men for one of two reasons: for money or just because she thought she had to. Those beliefs stemmed from her current occupation as a stripper and the scarring events that happened earlier in her childhood.

Being with Lisa was a relief as much as it was therapeutic. Shantell instantly connected to the closeness, caring and the soothing emotional feeling that the lesbian lifestyle offered. In no time at all, Lisa became the center of Shantell’s existence.

“Damn, that was a wet sloppy kiss,” Lisa remarked. “I liked that.”

Shantell just blushed. She felt a twinge of guilt. It was if she suddenly realized this was wrong. Like the words of a popular love song once said, “If loving you is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” At the moment, that’s how she felt.

“You’s one sexy muthafucka!” Shantell whispered. “And I’d love to stay in bed wit you all day…but I can’t. I gotta go get Jordan ready for school. If she misses that bus, I gotta take her there and I don’t feel like foolin’ with the traffic goin’ downtown this morning.”

With that said, Shantell quickly got out of bed. She exited the room and headed toward Jordan’s room to prepare her for day care.

Intently, Lisa watched Shantell’s backside as she left the room. It caused her to get horny all over again. She swore to herself that she was going tear that pussy up as soon as Jordan left for day care.

“Damn, Shawty, what you doin’ later on tonite?” a customer asked.

Shantell ignored him; she was too busy trying to hurry up and finish the lap dance. Not one to turn down a dollar, she had to let this sexual proposition fall on deaf ears. The way this joker was stinking, she knew it couldn’t get any better. Shantell couldn’t stomach a funky nigger jumping up and down on top of her.

As Shantell was just about to finish up the lap dance, out of nowhere she felt like somebody was staring at her. Her intuition turned out to be correct. A few feet away from her and to the right, Lisa stood by the bar, giving her the evil eye.

Shantell was so pissed off, she immediately left her customer without collecting any of the fallen bills that the man had lavished her with. She went straight to the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lisa following her. That was good, because Shantell wanted to give her a piece of her mind.

“Why the fuck do you keep doin’ that? Huh?” Shantell yelled.

“Doin’ what?” Lisa replied.

“Now you wanna play stupid, huh?” Bitch, why you keep starin’ at me?”

Seeing how mad Shantell was, Lisa decided to downplay the situation. She didn’t want to argue with her. She didn’t want to run the risk of falling out with Shantell= and possible losing her. Honestly, she couldn’t help but stare. Lisa was extremely

jealous and overprotective. Shantell was her woman. To her, she was just protecting her interests.

Lisa figured she could smooth all this out with some hot passionate sex later. In the past, that usually did the trick. It usually made her forget what they were mad about in the first place. But tonight, Lisa wouldn’t get off the hook that easily.

“Girl, wasn’t nobody even payin’ you no mind. You trippin’!” Lisa explained. “I was lookin’ at Neesha let this dude finger pop her on the down low.”

If she thought Shantell was buying that lame-ass excuse, Lisa had another thing coming. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Lisa was constantly cock-blocking on Shantell. There were plenty of times, when the club was packed, that Lisa told some of Shantell’s regular customers that she wasn’t working that night. As first it was cute, till it started messing up Shantell’s money.

As the days, weeks and months had went by, Shantell began to realize that being with Lisa was a big mistake. Now she saw what people meant when they said, to never fool around with someone at your job. For her, it was too much of seeing each other. Shantell began to feel like she was being smothered and she couldn’t live like that anymore.

Besides that, Shantell had another reason for breaking it off. She had her daughter to think about. The longer this relationship went on, the harder it would become for her to end it. The older Jordan got, the more deeper and penetrating questions she would ask.

Jordan was already being to wonder why she couldn’t sleep in bed with Mommy any more, and why did Mommy kiss her new friend like that?

Though she was her own woman, nobody controlled her or told her what to do. Shantell couldn’t put her daughter through that. She couldn’t have another child walk up to her daughter and tell her that her mommy was gay or, God forbid, that the child would tease Jordan about it.

A million scenarios ran through Shantell’s mind. Clearly, Lisa could see the frustration building on her face. She reached out and grabbed Shantell and tried to comfort her, but Shantell shoved her away.

“Get off me!” she spat. “It’s over. You gotta go. When we get back home, pack yo’ shit and roll.”

“Oh it’s like that? It’s over, just like that?”

“Yep, bitch, I ain’t gay no more!” Shantell remarked. “I was confused. I used to be gay.”

Lisa looked at her, puzzled. It was as if Shantell was talking out the side of her neck. She couldn’t comprehend a word Shantell was saying.

“Shantell, it don’t work like that,” Lisa laughed. “You don’t ”used to be’ gay. You used to be Christian, you used to smoke cigarettes or maybe you used to wear weaves. But you don’t used to be gay. You stuck wit ‘that shit fo’ life.”

Shantell countered, “Yeah, right! Whatever! Say what you want, but I ain’t fuckin’ wit you no more.”

Lisa was deeply hurt by her last statement. In a short time, she had fallen in love with Shantell. She had a problem accepting the fact that Shantell had cut her off so easily.

“Then just say that,” Lisa cried. “Then just say that.”

Shantell sat on the sink with mixed emotions. She felt guilty for hurting her lover’s feelings, but at the same time she felt liberated. She couldn’t tolerate her bullshit another minute. This move was the best, for all parties involved.

The Come up

Mike Boogie strolled into Peaches and Cream strip club like he owned the joint. His New York swagger was alive and well. It showed up in his everyday mannerisms. Mike was pro New York to a fault. He represented it all day, everyday.

Even in the dimly lit club, Mike was on point. Quickly, he scanned the club for any signs of trouble. Seeing none, he couldn’t prevent his eyes from roving around the room. There were a couple of pieces of eye candy that caught his attention. Fine young,, partially clothed black women of all shades, shapes and sizes were on display; a few seductively pranced by. Stopping in his tracks, Mike reached out and playfully slapped an unsuspecting stripper, whom he knew, on her ass cheek.

“Stop,” she exclaimed. “Nigga don’t put your hands on me.”

“Stop playin’ Ma!” Mike joked. “When you gonna let me hit dat again, Cinnamon, huh?”

At first Cinnamon was upset; she didn’t like anyone touching on her for free. But once she saw who he was, her foul attitude suddenly changed. Immediately she turned around and walked over to Mike Boogie and embraced him.

“Mike! Where you been?” Long time, no see? You went back home or somethin’?”

Returning the love, Mike hugged Cinnamon’s back and let his hands fall to her waist, then he slowly caressed her ass.

His action caught the eye of one of the many stocky bouncers that patrolled inside and outside the club. The security guard walked over and issued him a stern warning.

“Ay, my man, there’s no touchin’ the girls!” he firmly stated.

Mike shot the man a perplexed expression, which said, Nigger you can’t be serious. You know who I am?

Mike was very popular after being in Charlotte for so long. He knew all of the locals and out of towners. He was so popular, he probably could have run for mayor and won. He knew all the movers and shakers in the criminal realm, and even a few important legit people. Mike was so well connected that he was virtually untouchable.

In his younger days, the bouncer would have had a problem on his hands. Mike might have taken his request the wrong way, which would have probably led to a heated verbal exchange and physical altercation. Mike wasn’t a big guy, but he carried a big gun and he loved to pop his pistol. He had a little man’s complex; he thought the whole world was trying him.

“Aiight, fam. It’s all good,” Mike said. “You got dat. Anyway…”

Mike was a stone cold hustler who moved drugs throughout almost every hood in the Queen City. He had discovered this gold mine in the late to mid ‘90’s. It was a distant cousin who put him on to the money-making opportunities in Charlotte. Mike came down for a visit and never left.

At that time, New York City was hot. The governor, mayor and police commissioner were making it hard for a drug dealer to eat. All kinds of tough new drug laws, with stiff penalties, had been enacted in an effort to crack down on drug dealers. It was the perfect time for Mike to leave New York. Mike was on the first thing smoking.

Upon arriving in Charlotte, the first thing he noticed about the Queen city was that it was heavily populated with females. Next to making money, having sex ranked a close second for him. Growing up, most kids played football, basket

ball or some kind of sport. Not Mike; his hobby was fucking. Getting pussy was his favorite pastime. As a teenager he dealt with women, who were much older than himself. As a result he was well versed in the art of fucking. He had the magic stick and he knew it.

Mike stood at 5’8”. His dark brown skin made him appear Indian. His hair was jet black and curly. He was well built. He had a charming personality that came across well with women; there was no doubt he was a ladies man. He also was a party animal.

In the strip club and the streets, Mike’s sexual reputation preceded him. Tons of chicks knew his name and his game. Funny thing was, after years of running through countless females, having haters throw dirt on his name and salt in his game, he still was able do his thing.

“Lemmie get some money, Mike. I’m fucked up,” Cinnamon complained. “These broke-ass nigger’s ain’t showin’ no love tonight.”

Mike wisecracked, “Girl, as fat as that ass is, you should keep some money.”

One thing about Mike that everyone who was cool with him knew: if he had it, then you could get it. He was a moneymaking nigger that spread the love. It was because of this fact that he was so beloved in Charlotte.

He didn’t move like the average New Yorker. Mike knew the worst thing in the world to do was to come down south, trying to get all the money and fuck all the women. A country boy would kill you, quick. That statement went for any man, regardless of where he was from. To Mike, passing up some new pussy was harder than passing out money.

“Yo, you got some shit wit’ you. Every time I see you, you gotta sob story. I always ended up blessin’ you wit’ some paper. When you gonna bless me?”

Cinnamon sucked her teeth and pretended to be offended.

Mike smirked, thinking to himself, “you take yo’ clothes off in front of strangers every muthafuckin’ day. How can anything I say to you, offend you?”

“Yo, here.” He pressed a Fifty-dollar bill into her hand. “Like I said, can I live? Can I smash dat?”

“Nigger, you remember what happened the last time we fucked,.” Cinnamon remarked. “Remember?”

Mike froze and thought hard, but his mind drew a blank. Sometimes he got so drunk, he couldn’t remember a thing the morning after; this was one of those times. For the life of him, Mike couldn’t recall exactly what happened the last time they were together. One thing he knew for sure was, Cinnamon got hers. That was something one could bet on. He would put his life on it. There was no way in hell he could ever be classified by the ladies’ as a minute man.

“Oh, you really don’t remember huh?” Cinnamon asked. “Well, let me refresh yo’ memory. We were in the Microtel up on Sugar Creek. You got me mine and you got yours. Then you went to the bathroom and all hell broke loose. You started cursing up a storm. Callin’ me all kinds of bitches and hoes. You said I was a nasty slut for givin’ you some pussy while I was on the rag. I knew I wasn’t on my period, so I went in the bathroom to look at the condom, picked it up and held it to the light. Dat’s when yo’ drunk ass realized that the condom was red. And that wasn’t blood. Remember?”