“I miss you so much, Big Proc.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezing tight, pressing herself against me.
“I’m sure you did, but I bet you’ve been getting fed by some other bum ass nigga though, haven’t you?”
I kissed her on her lips again, and she loved it when I leaned down and did that shit.
“You know I haven’t slept with anyone. Well, besides that big black dildo in my drawer that I named after you,” she said with a smirk.
“Good. Don’t forget, that’s my cookie. I do what I do to you because your body belongs to me.”
She tilted her head.
“So are the rates for the Python still the same?”
“Is water still wet?”
“Yes, water is wet.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I was just wondering if it went up or down since you spent some time in jail. I mean, I don’t know if you lost your stroke without fucking for a while.”
I let out a low, deep laugh because she thought I hadn’t had sex since being in jail. Those C.O.’s were giving me pussy like it was a part of their jobs. I would say it’s only been about a month or so since I last fucked, and that’s simply because I didn’t want to. I had a lot on my mind.
“You should know that no matter how long I’m gone, I’ll never lose my fuckin stroke. I don’t care if I die and come back, I’ll always slide past your guts and enter your soul as I massage that clit just right.”
“That’s why you are my favorite big daddy. So, we're still looking at fifteen grand if I cream, and twenty if I squirt?”
“Let’s do fifteen if you squirt, ten if you cream. I’m feeling generous today. Plus, I need you just like you need me.”
“That’s my boy,” she giggled, rubbing her hands against my zipper.
I scooped her up from the ground, carrying her toward what we called her dungeon room. It wasn’t technically a dungeon, but a spare bedroom in her secret condo off the strip. But when you walked in, it felt like another world from the rest of her space.
Dim lighting from red bulbs casts shadows along the walls. Chains were hanging from the hooks, and leather cuffs were everywhere, with a pole in the dead center of the room. I helped her put this room together, kink by kink, as we figured out what it needed. Pleasure was one of my side businesses, and I was better at making women scream than I was securing shit. I make plenty of money on the side just by supplying niggas to rich white women and myself to Cookie.
Cookie, however, isn’t white, and was light skinned and could pass for Victoria Monet in a lookalike contest. Cookie got her riches from marrying a white man who is on his deathbed at University Medical right now. He was practically already dead, but because his family were on the board of the hospital, they probably would never unplug him to keep Cookie from inheriting all his money. She was his wife and beneficiary, but his kids were still over his power of attorney. So, he just laid there breathing through machines while I fucked his bitch and drained his fortune nut by nut.
I met Cookie years ago when I was working security at a club called Entice.
Entice wasn’t just a club; it was a playground for the wealthy and bored. Dim lights, velvet ropes, and music thumping through the floor. There was champagne popping every few seconds to keep the party flowing, and the back rooms were where the real party happened. Married couples swapping with masks, lingerie, and with wedding rings still on.
I remember Cookie came in with her husband before he had the stroke, that sent his health into a downward spiral. That night, she stood in the corner watching him have his fun with a couple of Latina women while her back was against the wall. She wore a red dress that hugged her body, turning down every man who approached her. Cookie wasn’t old. Late thirties. Thick in all the right places. She was easily the most attractive woman in the room.
I approached her because I could tell she would rather be anywhere else.
“Why are you not playing on the playground?”
She raised a brow. Usually, security wasn’t supposed to talk to guests like that. We were just there to make sure nothing went wrong because jealousy and arguments weren’t allowed in this spot. Oftentimes, couples would come here, thinking they are ready for this lifestyle, then find out it’s not for them, having to see their significant others getting fucked in their face. Personally, I couldn’t do it. I would probably knock a nigga out as soon as he touched my bitch and ended the whole freak fest before it could really get started.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just not interested in anybody in here.” She replied, sipping her drink.
“Oh, you not? Nobody?”
I looked around the room filled with people of different ethnicities and ages.
“What kind of men are you looking for? I mean, you should be able to pick someone. These men in here got money, passed the clinical test, and I’m sure they will be more than happy to have your fine ass. No offense.”
