Chocolate Flava (Chocolate Flava 1)

His room was laced with black-and-silver paraphernalia from floor to ceiling. Mare was blasting jazz out of these big-ass speakers and his room smelled like African queen incense.

“Whoa, who is this?” There was some chickenhead chilling on Mare’s bed. Yeah, I recognized that stuck-up bitch. Her name was Lauren. “Mare, I ain’t down with the threesome!”

“Tiffany, it’s not even like that. But you should know that it’s between you and Chi-town here for the lil’ sis position. I just want to ask you both a few questions.”

Damn, a test? I hadn’t been spending no time with the books! Not one to be clowned, I stared Lauren up and down, with her fly-ass Coach backpack and name-brand gear, took one step forward, and said, “What’s the first question?”

Mare gave me this Chiclets smile, looking like he was gonna pat me on the head like a puppy. “That’s the attitude Beta needs!” He glared at Lauren. “Chi-town, would you do anything for Beta?”

Stuck-up stammered, “Li…li…like, what?”

“Like what? What kind of fucking answer is that, Lauren?” Mare was heated. “I’ll tell you what kind, a wrong fucking answer!”

I saw the opening and went for it. “I’ll be down for Beta.”

Mare looked down at his dick. “Well, Tiff Money, then get down.”

I walked over to Mare and unbuttoned his camouflage pants, pulling them down real slow as I did a deep-knee bend. Mare had on these tight black cotton CK briefs and was about the hairiest motherfucker I had ever seen. I guess he felt me pause ’cause he got this real pissed-off look on his face. It kind of reminded me of the last time I babysat for my two-year-old cousin and he threw my favorite shoes in the toilet to see if they could float.

“I guess you ain’t the one, Tiff.”

Mare started to bend down and pull up his pants, when our eyes met. “Don’t rush me!” I rolled my eyes while sticking my fingers down the sides of his briefs, pulling them down around his ankles. I looked up and was introduced to disappointment a.k.a. his dick. It was no longer than my hand! I wasn’t even going to dignif

y it and try to hold it with two. A fucking one-hander! I looked up at him and he looked damned pleased with himself. I chuckled. “Beta for life, right?” I took the whole dick and nuts into my wet mouth.

Well, little Miss Chi-town went screaming out of the room. I figured since I was down there with the door wide open to the hallway, I would finish the job. The pledges, who now had full view of Tiffany’s World Famous House of Blow, were hollering while Mare was trying to knock my top teeth out with his Peter Rabbit buck and hop moves. Mare was moaning, “Oh, sis…yeah, sis…make it good for Beta. Make it good for America.”

America? I’m just as patriotic as any other sister, but “make it good for America?” That’s when I looked up at the fraternity paddle on his wall (I was that bored) and saw his line name was, get this, Mr. America! What a joke! I stroked the tiny space between his nut sack and asshole with my pinky and Mare came with the quickness, damn near pulling out my hair the entire time. Mare pulled up his pants, while I did a quick tooth count to see if I was missing any of my fronts. I then found out the source of Mare’s line name, when he started talking just like a Miss America contestant—for a long time, about himself, and boring the hell out of me!

“My real name is Phillip and my father and his father are Beta men.”

Phillip closed the door and the pledges in the hall groaned, fearing they would miss something. Phillip, alias Mare, pulled his tight “Bleed Beta” T-shirt off, exposing a sandy-colored Beta brand on his left arm.

“The reason why I copped this phat single is ’cause I’m president of the chapter.”

He stripped off the rest of his clothes, put on his shower shoes, and threw a towel around his waist. Before he left the room, he looked back and said, “Tiffany, you are so lucky to be with me.”

Ouch, Mare hurt me with that comment! But being down with big head (and you know which head I am talking about) did increase my popularity on campus. In return, I fucked Mare every day, every way, for the rest of the fall semester. Pledges carried my books to class, I went to all the Beta parties, and I was even crowned Miss Freshman.

When I went home for spring break, I got a letter from the college asking my ass not to return. I had flunked out. I called Mare, who was back home in Lake Vista, Louisiana, to see if he could talk to “Super Beta” McGregor. Even though it was one o’clock in the afternoon, Mare knocked the receiver off the phone and was pissed because I woke him up. After I read the letter, Mare yawned and gave me this long-ass speech about how “Beta stands for books” and how I apparently couldn’t hang. Then he tells me that he has to go because his girlfriend, Lauren, had to use the phone.

I damn near dropped the phone. “Chi-town?”

He whimpered in the receiver, “Yeah.”

All I heard after that was the dial tone.

It’s now three years later and I’m starting off at Wheatley College all over again, as a twenty-year-old off-campus freshman. I attend classes in the morning and then jet across town where I work the late-afternoon-until-dinner shift as a waitress at Delight’s Diner. Every evening, weekend, and free moment is spent with my son PJ. This time, I was ready to get my diploma. I was doing well too, until I had chemistry. The lab was kicking my ass! I knew I was in trouble when the lab assistant pulled me to the side one day after class.

Beaker, the assistant, was a thick, sturdy brother. He had a closely cropped afro, bushy black eyebrows, and juicy lips that you just wanted to suck like a dick. The girls in the lab didn’t even try to step to Beak. The word on campus was unless you were a chemistry formula, Beaker wasn’t a bit interested.

“Dini Brewster, right?”

So I wouldn’t get associated with Phillip or that Beta drama, I now went by my middle name on campus.

“Dini, you’re close to failing chem lab. Do you need some help? If you do, let me know. I tutor students under the Beta Community Service Project.”

“Hold up, Beaker, you down with Beta?” I just couldn’t see it, with him always sporting that corny white lab coat all over campus.