Christmas in the Hood (2 page)

“Same thing my brother said, my mama need a house.”

Santa smiled, and the crowd around them applauded.

One man yelled, “You have some great kids!”

Shante smiled at the memory of that morning. She knew that she had wonderful kids and that they would be content even if they didn’t get anything for Christmas, but she felt obligated— not because they’d made exceptional grades, but because they deserved a good Christmas. But how was she going to get the money? She looked at the bills in her hand. She knew she would get the money some kind of way; she was a hustler. She could try calling her babies’ daddy’s mother, but she couldn’t stand that bitch. She would make it on her own before she lowered herself to begging.

Another stripper, Goldie, walked over to the locker next to Shante, “I didn’t even make that much. Consider yourself lucky.”

Shante continued to get dressed, putting on her wool socks and her Timberland boots, then her coat and finally her scarf. Even dressed like a boy she was a stunning woman. “You don’t have any kids, so consider
yourself
lucky.” She smiled. “I have twenty-three days left before Christmas, and my two kids want everything.”

Goldie looked sad for Shante, “What about their daddy?”

“That nigga ain’t shit. He don’t even come around, and they haven’t seen his ass in almost two years.”

Shante stood and buttoned her coat, thinking about her date with Big Mike. Maybe he could help her with the Christmas gifts. Shante and Big Mike had met two weeks ago at 7-Eleven. He pulled up beside her in his Benz and offered to pump her gas.

She had already taken care of it but thanked him for asking. Big Mike was a huge guy—six feet four and two hundred fifty pounds of dark chocolate. She thought he was cute and charming—and the Mercedes Benz S600 he was driving didn’t hurt either—so she gave him her number.

*  *  *

Now it was two weeks later, and they were about to have another marathon sex session. Big Mike stood over her and smiled, revealing his country-assed gold tooth—the one thing she didn’t like about him.

“Put it in, nigga, and quit stalling,” Shante said.

“Wait a minute; it ain’t all the way hard.” Big Mike walked to the dresser and grabbed a bottle out of a paper bag. He opened it up and guzzled down the liquor. “Ahhh,” he said, before letting out a loud burp.

Shante turned around. “What the hell was that?” she said, looking disgusted.

“Guinness. This shit makes your dick rock hard.” Mike winked. “My brother told me about this shit; it’s better than Viagra.

“Nigga, my good pussy is supposed to make your dick hard,” Shante teased.

Shante put his manhood in her mouth, and Big Mike looked up toward the ceiling. “Now this is what the fuck I’m talking about,” he said, as Shante stroked his dick slowly while licking the head and playing with his balls.

But then she stopped.

“What’s wrong?” he said, looking annoyed.

She stood and turned her back toward him. “Mike … I really didn’t want to get into this with you because I know we just met.”

“What are you talking about?” Mike’s dick was throbbing. Shante turned and looked Mike in his eyes. Shante knew from years of experience that men were the most vulnerable when they were about to have sex, and, at that moment, he probably would’ve built a house for her with his bare hands if she asked him to. “I need help.”

“What do you need?”

“I need money to get my kids gifts. I don’t have any money this year. The club has been slow, and they want a lot of stuff for Christmas. I want to get my son a PlayStation and my daughter a new computer. I told them if they did good in school this year, I would tell Santa to bring them what they wanted.”

“How’d they do?”

“My daughter got all As, and my son, mostly As and Bs and one C,” Shante said proudly.

Mike smiled.

He was a hulking man, and even though she’d known him for only a short time, she could tell he was a good person.

“You know what? I’m going to help you. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled mischievously. “Now, let’s get back to work.” His member hardened as he moved toward Shante once more.

Shante went down on him again, not really sure if Mike was being honest about his promises. But she was lonely. She was tired of raising the kids on her own. She wanted a man; she wanted a father for her kids. She thought about what it would be
like if Mike were a permanent fixture in her and her kids’ lives. There would be someone to accompany her to PTA meetings and help her raise her son.

Noticing she was distracted, Mike frowned. “What’s wrong now, baby?”

Shante wiped her mouth before she stood and kissed him. “Mike, I’m really starting to like you, and I wish you could be in my life. I want to introduce you to my kids.”

Mike looked at his watch. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Not right now. Maybe tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to meet the kids unless we’re going to be together.”

She put her head on his chest. “Don’t you want to be with me?”

He took a deep breath but didn’t answer her question.

Shante looked into Mike’s eyes. It was obvious Mike didn’t feel the same way. “Mike, you don’t want to be with me, do you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Course I do,” Mike said, but he didn’t sound sincere.

It was clear he was lying, and Shante called him on it. “Why not, Mike? Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Mike avoided her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, it’s just that I just got out of a relationship. I kind of want some time by myself, you know?”

“I understand,” she said, holding back her tears. She figured she was just a piece of ass to Big Mike, just like she was to every other man she had ever met.

Mike put his arms around her and held her for a long time. “It’s not like that, shortie, I mean, everything is cool, I just want to chill, you know?”

“Meaning you just wanna fuck,” she translated.

“Naw, it ain’t like that,” Mike said unconvincingly.

She put her arms around him. “It’s okay, Mike. I know what you want. It’s okay, just keep it real.” She forced a smile.

“Seriously, baby, it ain’t like that.”

Shante dropped to her knees and put his dick in her mouth again. She wondered why niggas lie. Now that she knew that Mike only wanted to fuck her, she would play the game with him and try to get whatever she could out of him. She knew what he wanted, and she would have to use it to get what she needed.

“Don’t stop!” he yelled. He was just about to explode when she spit his balls out of her mouth. Big Mike stood up with his dick swinging wildly. “Why did you stop, shortie?”

“I need two hundred dollars, Mike.”

“I told you I was going to help you with the kids’ Christmas.”

“That’s cool, but I need the money now.”

Mike’s dick was still stiff, and she was sure he would have paid any amount of money for the nut at that point.

“How much you need?” he asked.

“Three hundred dollars.”

“I thought you said two hundred.”

“What the hell did you ask for, if you knew all along?”

“I don’t have two hundred dollars.”

“Nigga, you driving a eighty-five-thousand-dollar car. What do you mean you don’t have two hundred dollars?”

“I don’t have it,” Mike stated firmly.

Shante stood and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was just about to gargle some Listerine when Big Mike walked in with his dick in one hand and a bunch of bills in the
other. She spit the Listerine in the sink, turned to him, and smiled. “You want your little dick sucked, huh?”

He chuckled and, as she reached for the money, pulled back and pointed to his dick.

“No, nigga, put the money in my hand, and only then will you get rewarded.”

Mike glanced at himself. His dick had gone down again. Finally he handed her the money.

She counted it. Ten twenty-dollar bills. “I need three hundred dollars.”

“I don’t have it right now,” he stated. “You can take it or leave it.”

She took it.

*  *  *

Club Cheetah’s was packed. The Chevy Boyz, a rap group from Atlanta, was making it rain by throwing trash bags of money in the air. Shante had arrived late, but she could tell it was going to be a good night. She was dressed in her sexiest outfit: a green spandex dress with a lime green G-string that highlighted her ass.

Blue was the leader of the Chevy Boyz. He was tall, dark, and lanky, with long cornrows. He stepped to Shante as soon as she left the dressing room. “Goddamn,” he said, admiring her ass.

She smiled and looked away. She didn’t want to seem like she was a groupie.

“You know who I am, shortie?” Blue asked.

“No, should I?” Shante said, knowing damn well who he was. She’d seen him on BET, but she had to play it cool. She couldn’t
let the nigga get the big head; then he would expect dances for free. Celebrities were the cheapest customers, usually.

He looked at her skeptically and said, “Yeah, right.”

He pointed to his black T-shirt that read: chevy boyz.

“Okay, I think I’ve heard of y’all,” Shante said, keeping up the charade. “You’re a singer or something.”

He chuckled. “Damn, you smell good, shortie. What you wearing?”

“Kenzo.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve never heard of you.”

“But you just said you did.”

She smiled then laughed out loud. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Quit playing games.”

“I know who you are, nigga, but still introduce yourself, and don’t give me that hip-hop name. What is your government name?” Shante asked playfully.

“You the feds?”

“No, it’s just manners. Didn’t yo mama teach you manners?”

“Leave my mama out of this.”

Hoping she hadn’t offended him, Shante rubbed his chest then turned her back toward him and started dancing, pressing her behind against his dick. Just then the DJ announced, “We have the Chevy Boyz in the house!” and put on their song “My Chevy Ride Slow.” The crowd went wild.

Blue smiled, revealing a gold grill as he palmed Shante’s butt. “Damn, girl, I didn’t know Carolina girls had asses like this.”

Shante turned and smiled. “This is a one-of-a-kind ass. You can’t find this in Carolina, Georgia, or Florida.”

“I don’t know about all that, but you definitely looking good and smelling good.”

“What’s stopping you from taking me to VIP then?”

Blue paid for a bottle of champagne, and Shante led the way upstairs.

Inside the VIP lounge, the two sat at a small table in a secluded corner. Blue began to pour her a glass of champagne, but Shante shook her head. “I don’t drink.”

Blue looked surprised. Shante put her leg over his, and Blue moved her hand to his lap.

“Okay, so what’s up, shortie? What do I get in VIP? You giving me head or what?”

“I don’t have sex inside clubs. We don’t do that here. You’ll get thrown out and get me fired.”

“What? So what do I get?”

“Just a private dance.”

“This shit is whack. In ATL the girls are sucking and fucking.”

“This ain’t ATL.”

She stood, and his eyes zeroed in on her ass. “So what’re you about to do?”

“I’m about to give you a dance,” Shante said, as she wiggled her ass, which looked like it wanted to bust out of her tight come-fuck-me dress.

“Let’s get out of this club, shortie. I got a spot in the Embassy Suites. I want to slide through and unwind.”

“After I get off I’ll bounce with you; it ain’t no problem. But if you want me to spend the night it’s going to cost you two Gs.”

“Money ain’t a thang.”

When he said that, Shante felt relieved. Her kids would have a good Christmas after all. “Then you have yourself a date.”

*  *  *

When Shante came out of the bathroom of Blue’s hotel suite, she was butt-naked. Blue laid across the bed stroking himself. She slid beside him, and his manhood swelled immediately. She licked it and blew on it. His toes curled.

“Want to place a bet?” she asked him.

“What kind of bet?” he responded.

“That I can make it cum in six minutes, or this one is on me.”

He pulled his boxers all the way down to his feet. He had a lot of pubic hair, which made her flesh crawl.

“And if you do make me cum within six minutes?”

She kissed his chest and then his lips. Carressing his sack, she said, “You pay me double.”

“That’s a bet.”

“Can you pay me fifteen hundred now?”

“Why?”

She kissed his sack. “I don’t know you, Daddy.”

“Imma pay you. You think I’m going to risk my career and get a rape case?”

She decided not to press him because he looked so serious and she didn’t want to blow the opportunity. She also thought he was sort of cute; she didn’t particularly like skinny men, but Blue was kind of attractive to her.

He rubbed his dick on her chin, causing her to jerk her face away.

“What’s the matter? Too freaky for you?”

“No, but you ain’t my man, so you can’t just do me any kind of way.”

“I’d rather be ya n-i-g-g-a,” Blue quoted Tupac. “The nigga get treated better than the man.”

She smacked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about all of that, but are we on or not?”

“You that good, you can make me spit in six minutes?”

“Five, nigga.”

“Bet it up, shortie.” They shook hands, and she took him deep in the back of her throat. He grabbed her head. She moved his hand and spit on the tip of his dick.

His head fell back.

He looked at the clock: one minute had gone by.

She deep-throated him. He stood, and she grabbed his waist; she met his thrusting with the back of her throat. She cupped his balls. Saliva ran down the sides of her mouth onto his shaft. He sat back on the bed: three minutes had passed. His toes were now pointing up toward the ceiling.

“Damn this shit feels so … so good.”

Shante kept going.

With a little over one minute remaining, Blue begged. “Please stop! Please stop! You win! I’ll pay you!”

She ignored his demands, and seconds later he came and came and came again.