Watch Out for the Big Girls (3 page)

Felicia let out a gust of hot air and shook her head. She was not in the mood tonight to be beating down or pistol whipping somebody like she normally would have for less. But there were too many people watching for her to let it go. She wouldn't be her if she did. “Is there a problem?” Felicia snapped.

Her sexy arched eyebrows formed as one due to the scowl that was now plastered across her face. She was already anticipating her next move based on the female security guard's response. All it took was one wrong word for Felicia to wipe the tough look off of her face. There was no doubt in her mind that she could beat the female security guard's ass. She had sized her up and concluded that, at five foot eight and 165 pounds, give or take, her body was no match for her solid, curvaceous one at six foot one and 220 pounds. She folded her arms.

In a matter of seconds, the female security guard's facial expression went from an ice grill to a submissive one. She saw a way out and she took it.

“No, Fee. I mean, no, not at all.” The female security guard caught herself, remembering how Felicia reacted the last time she had said her name. She lowered her gaze. To say she was scared would be an understatement. Despite the cool summer breeze that filled the air, her black security tee began to soil with perspiration around the collar and up under her armpits. Beads of sweat began to appear on her forehead as if she was coming down with a fever of some sort.

“Oh okay, just making sure,” Felicia stated sternly. She could see the fear written all over the woman's face. She was a firm believer in not forcing somebody into battle if they really didn't want a war. Had Starr been present, even if she had wanted to she couldn't have shown the female security guard any mercy. No matter coward or tough guy, if you violated or disrespected a Double G Starr demanded you be dealt with in the most degrading and sometimes unthinkable way. But Starr wasn't present and it was evident the female security guard didn't want any beef, so Felicia drew up.

“Just unhook this shit,” Felicia commanded in an authoritative tone.

The female security guard did as she was told. This time she moved more like the hare rather than the tortoise.

Felicia winked at Monica as the female security guard unhooked the velvet rope. She then turned to Bubbles. “I'll catch you inside.”

Bubbles nodded. She was convinced there was no imminent danger or real major problem. She spun around and made her way into the establishment.

“Anyway, why you didn't hit me?” Felicia asked as Monica put her ID back into her clutch.

She shrugged.

“You ain't gotta stand in line with them broke bum bitches. You fuck with us, and this our shit,” she announced.

Monica smiled, but not at what Felicia had said. Her smile was credited to being one step closer to becoming a Double G, and one step closer to justice and revenge. She put on her game face as the two of them sashayed their way inside Club Panties.

 

Aside from the soft moonlight that slipped through the black lace balcony curtains, the luxurious penthouse's master bedroom was fairly dark. The mood was perfect. India Arie's Pandora station had nearly repeated the songs in its rotation twice, but to Starr it felt as if it was still on the first song. She had lost all track of time. The state of ecstasy she was in had her in another realm and she had no intention of returning anytime soon.

For the past hour or so, her body felt as if it was being put through an intense workout that would never end. Her thick, shapely legs and inner thighs were well aware of the immense amount of time that was passing from the extreme pleasure. As her massive thighs cramped up on her continuously, she realized she couldn't hold them spread far apart and high into the air any longer. Slowly she lowered the heels of her feet onto the shoulders of the woman whose head was buried between her legs. She clenched the satin bed sheets, bit down on her bottom lip, and closed her eyes as her love partner's lips smothered her clit and delivered flurries to it with her tongue. Starr tried to control her breathing. She exhaled lightly then inhaled deeply, but it was no use. Her heart raced faster and uncontrollably each time her partner's tongue made contact with her G-spot.

Diamond had a five-inch tongue that felt like pure silk, not to mention the fact that she was proficiently skillful. She paid perfect attention to Starr's rhythmic breathing patterns and involuntary body reactions. She adjusted her body weight and positioned herself between Starr's legs to support them over her shoulders. Diamond peered up at Starr and smiled at the passionate expression she bore on her face. She stiffened her tongue and slid it inside of Starr's wetness as she used her long middle and pointer fingers to part her outer walls. Hearing Starr moan turned Diamond on. She slipped her tongue out of Starr's love box and swirled it in a circular motion around her clit. Her face was close enough for Starr to feel her breath between her inner thighs. Diamond watched as Starr's sex grew wetter by the second as she blew warmth between her slit. She could feel Starr squirming underneath her as she took the underside of her soft tongue and rested it directly on the center of Starr's wetness. She applied firm pressure before she gently sucked on it. She kept her warm, moist mouth open just slightly enough for the open air to slip through the corners of her luscious lips and heighten the sensation.

Starr's body trembled. She gripped two handfuls of Diamond's long, curly jet-black hair like horse reins and held on for dear life. She could feel that she was drenched in her own love juices. She rotated her hips and thighs into Diamond's face. She rode Diamond's tongue as if it were a saddle. Starr quivered from yet another explosive orgasm as Diamond gripped her by the waist. She started shaking and going through convulsions, feeling like she was slipping into a soft coma. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. It was as if she was destined for such a forbidden and condemned lifestyle. She savored the moment, but was abruptly interrupted by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Starr pulled the lower half of her body away from Diamond's face, and reached for the phone. The number came up as Blocked on the caller ID. She hated that but still accepted the call, aggravated by the disturbance and disruption.

“Whoever this is, call me back from an unblocked number,” she said with attitude. She was just about to hang up, but the unidentified caller's words stopped her in her tracks.

“I wouldn't hang up if I were you,” a male voice blurted out.

A puzzled look appeared across Starr's face. The caller immediately caught her attention. “Who the fuck is this?” She stared at the phone and then put it back to her ear.

“Don't matter,” the male voice replied dryly.

She was in no mood to be playing games. She could already feel herself getting out of a sexual mood and transitioning into a more serious state. “Look, mutha—”

“You have an undercover agent planted in your organization. This piece of information is free. If you want to know anything further, it's going to cost you . . . a lot,” the male voice cut Starr off.

A second later, the phone went dead in Starr's ear. She stared at the phone for a second time. She then looked down at Diamond with an untrusting eye. Still, she kept her cool, and kept what she had just heard to herself.

“Is everything okay, bae?” Diamond asked. She noticed the sudden change in Starr's demeanor.

“Yeah, everything's straight. I gotta go,” Starr brushed her question off. She hopped up and began to dress. “I'll hit you up later,” she informed her lover without bothering to turn and look at her. Her mind was too preoccupied by the words playing in her head from the anonymous caller.

“Damn! No kiss, no hug, no nothin'?” Diamond chimed.

Starr stopped and turned. She was already headed out the bedroom door. The phone call had her in deep thought. It was all she could think about. She didn't want to alarm Diamond.

“My bad, babe.” She made her way back over to the bed and leaned into Diamond. She cupped Diamond's face and flashed her a loving smile. She gave her a deep, passionate kiss. Diamond tried to wrap her arms around Starr's neck and her long, muscular legs around her waist, only to be rejected. “I gotta go.” Starr broke their lip lock and released Diamond's chin.

She stared into her eyes. She felt guilty for searching for betrayal in her lover's eyes. She didn't want to believe that she had just kissed her Judas. Starr shook the thought off. For all she knew, the phone call was bogus, even though her gut was telling her it was not a drill or a joke. She flashed Diamond one more smile. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you too, Starrshma.”

Starr let out a light chuckle and shook her head. Diamond was the only one she allowed to call her by her birth name without blacking out and getting pissed off. She was also the only one who made it sound like music to her ears, although she disliked her real name.
It can't be her,
Starr thought.
That's my rider right there,
she concluded.

“I'll see you later,” Starr said and then she was gone.

Diamond hopped out of the bed and pulled back her room's curtains. She squinted from the sunlight that met her at the window. She hadn't realized how much time had passed since they had left the club and she and Starr had met at her house. She watched as Starr climbed into her green, black, and red Ducati. She forced a smile as Starr looked back and up at her in the window and blew her a kiss the way she always did. She hated the fact that she had just up and left in the midst of a heated and passionate moment, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it. She knew exactly who and what she was getting involved in when she first crossed the line and started dealing with her boss, but still she didn't like it.

There was no doubt in her mind that Starr would choose her work over her at the drop of a dime. That was a problem for her. She loved Starr so much that she would be willing to give it all up. She would risk any- and everything for her if it ever came down to it, she knew. She managed to return Starr's kiss. A few tears trickled down her face at the thought. As soon as Starr sped off, Diamond thrust herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and let out a loud cry.

The college classroom–styled domain in the downtown Las Vegas federal building was filled with over two dozen law enforcement officials and representatives from every branch and department. The lead agents, head detectives, and top-ranking officers sat up front. Members from the Washington field office, the public corruption unit, and the organized crime division were called in by the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation at the request of Head Special Agent Tom McCarthy.

The central air system pumped out an inconsiderable amount of low temperature that most of the law officials ignored with the help of the two-day-old coffee and stale donuts. For most of them, it was just like being back at the academy. They joked around and mingled among each other until the lights went out. The only sound that could be heard in the room was the film projector. The beam of a bright white light shot from the back of the room onto the white eighty-inch roll-down canvas screen.

Special Agent McCarthy stepped in front of it. His huge shadow reflected on the blank screen, making him appear much larger than his five foot seven, 180-pound pudgy frame as he stepped directly into the beam of light. All eyes were on him. Most hadn't met him personally, but he looked like he meant business. And he did. He made sure that every single person was paying attention before he began. His silent point was established. His patience remained untested.

Agent McCarthy wore a black tailor-made suit and black tie, with a white button-up shirt underneath. He adjusted his tie while clearing his throat. He stepped up in front of the cherry wood podium and cut the small brass overhead lamp on. It shined down on his notes. He quickly scanned through a few pages and then picked up a tiny remote that resembled a huge pen. He kept his thumb on the top button that controlled the projector. At the first click, a surveillance photo of a beautiful, young, full-figured African American woman exiting a nightclub appeared on the screen. It was hard to make out her estimated age range due to the way she was dressed in the photo. Agent McCarthy strolled over to the screen. He faced the audience as he spoke.

“This is Starrshma Fields, aka Starr. From what we know, she is the second-in-command of a powerful lesbian criminal organization. They call themselves the Double Gs.”

Most of the officers and agents in the room chuckled under their breaths, but not without it going unnoticed by Agent McCarthy, who remained militantly serious as he continued.

“Now, I assure you that this is no laughing matter. This group of women is not to be taken lightly. That is exactly how they got so far, so fast. They are relentless; worst of all, they are perfectly structured. I also assure you all that in your entire career in law enforcement, you have never seen, or been up against, a group that warrants the continuing criminal enterprise statute such as this. I have personally been tracking this organization for the past nine years. We have reason to believe that this organization started out as a simple renegade lesbian motorcycle gang nearly twenty-three years ago. Since then, it has expanded into what it is today: an underground dictatorship dynasty.” Agent McCarty paused to take in the faces in the room before he continued. He could see that not many were following or took his words seriously.

“It was founded by an anonymous woman who they call Queen Fem,” he continued anyway. “Still to this day, we have no idea who or where she is. But we do know that Ms. Fields is the key to it all. She is the only one who knows how to get to Queen Fem.”

A voice from the dark untimely interrupted, “With all due respect, sir, why is this our problem, or concern? From what we're hearing, they're just a group of Girl Scouts gone wild. Meanwhile, we've got real bad guys to catch, terrorists to fight, and dope dealers to bring down. How does a gay girl club warrant the devotion of every law enforcement agency there is?”

Agent McCarthy shook his head in frustration, knowing that the comments had probably come from some dumb local who thought ten years on the force gave him credibility as a decorated officer. Still, he upheld his professional yet stern composure as he continued.

“Without further interference, I'll tell you exactly how this warrants all our attention. This isn't some juvenile delinquent group of girls with a secret handshake. This is a well-organized criminal cult. They are a secret society that targets men of power and position, legal and illegitimate, but mainly illegal. And their influence is outstanding. They do not only operate and target individuals on a local level, they also have some of the nation's top cartels and crime families under their remote control. On every level, from the low-grade street dealers to the top bosses, they have managed to influence and manipulate their way into the underworld like law enforcement could never imagine doing themselves.” McCarthy took a sip of his cup of cold coffee. “And they didn't just stop there. They're much smarter than that. They have done the same things with honest, hardworking citizens of power. Lawyers, judges, law enforcement.” He let his words linger in the air before he continued. “They are now deeply rooted in the corporate world. Their white-collar crimes are on a scale like no other. Their schemes are both productive and effective.”

“Exactly what methods are they using?” a different voice asked from the dark.

Agent McCarthy walked back to the podium and pressed a button and the lights came back on. He reluctantly answered, “This is exactly what I'm getting at. What we are up against is something like we've never seen before, or even encountered. It is a level of strong-armed blackmail that seems simplistic, but is really so far advanced. It's a webbing system that protects them like a fortress. And it all starts with an initiation process. So with each targeted victim, they get stronger.

“Their selections are far from random, for both recruit and the target. Both are thoroughly investigated and handpicked by a selective few gang members. Right now it is unclear how many. But we do know that they all report to one woman, that being Ms. Fields. And she may or may not be reporting to someone else, that being Queen Fem who, as I stated earlier, is a mystery. We do, however, know that they go after men of power, on both a low and high level, from drug dealers to politicians. But only those with the most to lose. They know exactly who's weak and, more importantly, who'll break. They learn exactly who has what to protect and how far they will go to do so. Then they go after it, through them. They get into isolated positions with their targets and use forcefully degrading acts to hang over their heads, according to my intel source. Now, here's the most brilliant part, which complicates things for us. Technically, they're clean. Everything about them checks out. Aside from their heat-packing motorcycle gang security branch, the rest of them appear to be high-class, law-abiding citizens with respectable jobs. They only get their hands dirty one time: the initiation process. Which means, technically, they aren't even a part of the Double Gs yet when they commit the actual criminal act.”

“So why don't we just bring them down under the RICO Act or 848 CCE?” a uniformed DEA agent asked from his seat.

“Good question. But with what? All we'll get is a couple of misdemeanor gun charges, and circumstantial evidence of blackmail. It's hard to paint a clear picture to the jury for them to see what we're dealing with. Nothing will stick without successfully retrieving some hardcore evidence. Nothing,” Agent McCarthy emphasized.

“So what about this Queen Fem? Any leads on her?” a special operative of the Secret Service inquired.

“None. She's been a ghost since the beginning of time. It seems that only Ms. Fields can lead us to her. But, until then, she's taking all the heat.”

“You also say you have a source. Please specify?” the secretary of the Justice Department asked.

Agent McCarthy was hesitant to elaborate. His reluctance was evident. “Yes. I recently got an undercover agent inside who provides intel,” he confirmed.

“Undercover?” the secretary asked.

“That is correct,” Agent McCarthy confirmed.

“Did the agent also complete the initiation process? And is she also a lesbian?” a uniformed officer asked with a humorous undertone in his voice. A few officers chuckled, finding both questions to be tickling.

Agent McCarthy grew visibly agitated. “The necessary steps have been taken to get us on the inside. And to the next level,” he declared.

“And what is the primary objective?” a Homeland Security officer asked from his front-row seat.

“Objective number one: finding Queen Fem or something solid. Second: take down and disassemble the Double Gs for good. We have to send a message to the others. A strong message!” Agent McCarthy banged his fist on the podium.

Each representative from the organizations looked back and forth at one another and then back at Agent McCarthy with agreeing nods. On the outside, Agent McCarthy was stone-faced, but on the inside he was smiling.
Step one: mission accomplished,
he thought.

“Now, gentlemen, let's get to work!”