Dirty Work: Part 1

Devon walked toward the stage and started to tip the dancers with dollar bills. He had his eyes on two strippers he was eager to take into one of the backrooms and go porno on. One was a light-skinned whore wearing a pink G-string with hearts and clear stilettos. Her long, black hair and tattoos caught his eye as she walked around the club topless.

He approached her and bluntly asked, “How much to fuck you?”

“One fifty.”

Devon pulled out his wad of cash to impress the stripper. “C’mon, ma, I wanna fuck tonight.” He didn’t care about style or etiquette. He didn’t care for her name either.

He followed her to the backroom. He handed the bouncer a twenty-dollar bill and walked into a cramped, shadowy room that contained only a bare mattress and evidence of the previous occupants.

Devon paid her the fee and went straight to work on her. There wasn’t much for her to remove. Her G-string came off, his pants came down, and he showed her just how blessed he was. Having a big dick was something he was very proud of.

The Magnum condom snug around his thickness and length, Devon wanted to fuck her doggy-style. Primed behind her, with her legs spread and pussy throbbing, he gripped her big booty and thrust himself inside.

She groaned from the impact. He was bigger than average, but she was a professional at taking any size dick.

It was definitely where he wanted to be. In some pussy. He wasn’t ashamed to pay for sex. It was worth it.

He grunted, and she cried out. He wanted his money’s worth and subsequently came like thunder after being inside her pussy for fifteen

minutes.

Afterward, that bitch didn’t walk right. It was money well spent.

***

Kip arrived in Harlem with Papa John riding shotgun. He was a bit disappointed that Big Sean was still alive, but there was going to be a next time. He stopped in front of a brownstone on 158th Street and let Papa John out of the vehicle. Papa John had plans on spending the night at the house of one of his baby mamas, who’d been calling him repeatedly that night, wanting a booty call with her daughter’s father.

Papa John was eager to see her, knowing Lana was a freak and gave the best head. “One, my nigga,” he said. “And ease up. Get laid tonight. I know I will.” He laughed.

Kip sat indifferently in the seat, not really listening to his friend. His attention was elsewhere.

Papa John shrugged and turned, and made his way up the stairs and into the brownstone where Lana already had her door open, waiting for him to come in.

Kip drove off and went home. The night was still young, and he was far from tired. Kid was fast asleep. The apartment was too quiet.

He lit a Black & Mild and sat on the couch. After a few puffs, he picked up his cell phone and made a call.

“Hello,” Eshon answered her phone.

“Hey, what you doing?”

She was excited to hear from him. “I’m just lying in bed watching TV. Why?”

“So you’re not busy?”

“No!” she quickly answered.

“I want you to come over.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now.”

“Okay, give me fifteen minutes.”

“A’ight.” He hung up. Eshon was the perfect woman to make him feel good tonight. She always knew what he liked.

He continued smoking his small cigar and sat slouched on the couch, his gun on the table in front of him. He was in a minor zone.