Natural Born Liar: The Misadventures of Mink LaRue Read online

  I stared real hard at Dajuan, and for the first time ever I was ready to put pleasure before the game. My pussy was tingling. I wanted to duck down under the table and get my uterus dug out, and I wanted long-legged Dajuan Latrell Sullivan to pull out his shovel and do the digging.

  He chuckled. “Yo, I’m serious baby. A chick with your kinda star quality should be in the movies.”

  Fuck a con game. My lips flapped loose and all the nasty thoughts on my mind rolled straight outta my mouth.

  “Yo, you real cool, Dajuan, and I’ma ga’head and suck ya dick and give you some pussy too, ’kay? But you got some real white-boy shit going on witcha self boo. I ain’t wanna be the one to tell you, but you walk like you got a blunt stuck up your ass!”

  “A blunt?” he said. “Up my ass?”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded and took another gulp of my drink, and suddenly the whole room seemed like it went on high buzz. It was real confusing. Everybody in the VIP area seemed like they was talking extra loud, but Dajuan’s words sounded like silky whispers in my ear. I pushed that damn drink away.

  “Super Bass” blasted through the speakers, and right away my juices got to flowing. Fuck a Nicki! I was Mink Minaj and I started singing real loud and grindin’ my ass on the chair like I was giving the seat cushion one of my hump-a-lump lap dances.

  “Oh, that’s my shit right there! That fuckin’ super bass feels good!”

  “Finish your drink.” Dajuan pushed that evil red liquid back at me. “And I promise you, Tasha, you’s about to feel real good, baby. At least for tonight.”

  “Yo,” I slurred. I took the little straw outta my glass and sniffed the tip. “What the fuck is in this shit?”

  “The devil,” Dajuan said with a slick grin.

  He put his arm around me and helped me stand up on my wobbly feet. I stumbled outta the VIP lounge and walked through Club Wood hugged up on that dude like he was my boo. We dipped into the hotel next door and he took me straight to the elevator. When we got on I bust out laughing as I tried to count all them pink reflections the panel of dirty mirrors was throwing back at me. I was counting those babies out loud too, but I kept getting stuck and forgetting which number came after two and went before four.

  “So you think I walk like a white boy, huh?” Dajuan asked as we rode up the elevator shaft.

  My tongue was so damn heavy all I could do was nod.

  Dajuan grabbed my hand and pressed it up against his bulging dick. “I bet you ain’t never ran across no white boy who was packing meat like this.”

  That nigga was all over me. He tongued me down like a starving man, and I moaned as my steamy pussy melted. He sucked on my bottom lip and stroked my ass until my thong was nice and wet.

  “Your body is fuckin’ killer crazy,” Dajuan said as we got off the elevator.

  I stumbled into a room so big it had to be the penthouse suite.

  “Know what? Your ass looks like a choo-choo train with an extra-wide caboose.”

  “You so fuckin’ corny!” I squealed as I tossed my bag down on the chipped wooden nightstand. My damn hands had a mind of their own as I helped him strip off his Polo shirt and unbuckle his belt. There was a big basketball emblem on his buckle, and that shit hit the floor hard as he dropped his jeans and his boxers too.

  “Ah shit ...” I sucked in my breath as he stood there almost naked. His long black dick stuck straight out in front of him and curved a little bit to the left. A tiny drop of pre-cum hung from the tip and I wanted to get down on my knees and slurp it up before it dripped. Instead I giggled.

  “I see somebody wants some pussy!”

  “That ain’t all I want.”

  Out of nowhere he was holding a Crown latex in his hand. I staggered over to him and snatched the condom and ripped the wrapper off with my teeth.

  “Lemme do it,” I slurred. His dick looked so delicious it made my mouth water. That sucker had me in a trance. It was the color of chocolate M&Ms, and it looked just as sweet. I squeezed my thighs together and panted as I rolled the latex down over his thick shaft.

  I was about to jack that beautiful dick half to death, but then something made me ask, “Do you wanna see a show?”

  I kicked off my heels and stripped down to my hot-pink thong and satin half-bra. Then I unsnapped my garter belt and inched my pink fishnet stockings down my thick yellow thighs that never failed to drive niggas wild. I flung my right stocking up high in the air, and I cracked the hell up when it fluttered down and landed on Dajuan’s head. I twirled the other stocking around my neck and wore it like a scarf.

  Dajuan ate me with his eyes as I drooled over his muscular shoulders, rocked up stomach, and heavily-veined dick. I wanted that damn dick! No, I blinked. I wanted both of his dicks. No, hold up. This nigga was packin’ three fat pieces of meat!

  The room started swimming and I closed my eyes and tried to fight off a big wave of dizziness. When I opened my eyes again Dajuan was licking his lips and staring at my crotch. “I smell your pussy,” he panted.

  “But you got three dicks ... ,” I whined as every damn thing in the room shifted and flipped upside down.

  He grabbed my shoulders and held me up.

  “Relax.”

  Gripping my elbows, he eased me down on the bed. I thought I was onstage at Club Wood, so I spread my legs open wide and brought my knees up to my shoulders and got ready to go into one of my twerk ’em routines, but before I could get it poppin’ Dajuan buried his face in my pussy and went to work with his tongue.

  I screamed when his lips touched me. I arched my back and grabbed his head and started grinding my pussy all over his lips, nose, and chin. His tongue was so damn good I wiped my nookie juice on his forehead and I didn’t give a damn if he liked it or not!

  I came twice before Dajuan let my ass up. Then he turned over on his back and held my hips as I lowered myself down on his thickness, sucking all ten inches of him up inside of me. That stiff dick rammed straight through me. I felt like I had a sausage coming up outta my throat.

  My titties jiggled as he worked his meat like he owned a slaughterhouse. I rode him like a jockey, giddy-upping him to death. The next thing I knew I was on my hands and knees in the middle of the large bed. Dajuan was crouched down lickin’ my cat out from the back.

  He palmed my ass and spread my lumps open wide, and I gyrated my hips in crazy circles as he stuck his tongue in my twat and slurped up my slippery juices.

  “Ahhh, yeah!” I tooted up that na-na and urged him to get up in there even deeper. Dajuan stretched his tongue out like it was a plumber’s snake, massaging my clit with the tip and then thrusting it deep inside my pussy before withdrawing and slithering it up to my asshole. He plunged two fingers into my juicy hole and licked that back door all the way from my puckered crack, up to my lower back.

  I was whimpering with pleasure when he gripped his dick and rammed it back into my pussy hard enough to make me scream. I busted me another one as he deep-drilled me until my backbone hurt.

  “Dajuan!” I screeched as he pumped wood into me doggy-style. Cries of ecstasy flew from my lips. I arched my back as sweat seeped from under my pink wig and dripped into my eyes.

  “Kill this pussy ... ,” I muttered, suddenly feeling light-headed and totally dick-whipped. “Yeah, white boy!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Bang this pussy up!”

  “Call me Daddy,” he instructed as he gripped the back of my slender neck and drove home all up in my wet-wet. He pounded my guts so hard the flesh on my ass rippled like delicious sea waves. “That’s right, baby,” he panted. “I wanna hear you call me Daddy.”

  “Daaadeee ... ,” I whispered as he hit me with a powerful down stroke. And then my knees straight buckled. I fell face-down on the bed as Mister D.L.S. proceeded to grip my plump ass and fuck my lights completely out.

  CHAPTER 3

  Club Wood was still on fiyah when a very tall college basketball player walked out of the hotel next door. Upstairs, in the very best room they
had, he’d left a sweet, luscious piece of ass slobbering on a pillow. They’d torn the room up and fucked like a pair of wild tigers, and his dick was sore and throbbing as he walked toward a white, late-model Chrysler 300.

  He grinned as the driver’s window slid down.

  “Hey wassup! Sorry about the wait.” He laughed. “I got kinda caught up in a lil something, ya feel me?”

  The driver shrugged. He was a distinguished-looking black man in his late forties, and the smell of cigars and expensive cologne drifted out from the car’s interior.

  “Well, did you have a good time?”

  “C’mon now! You saw that chick’s ass!” the handsome balla from Philly answered. “That was the best piece of pussy I had in years.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick package of money. It was in a plastic bag and still had traces of tape wrapped around it. “Twenty g’s! I counted it as soon as she passed out.” He tossed the package to the driver, then started taking off the jewels he wore. He handed them to the man in the car, who strapped the fifteen-thousand-dollar watch onto his wrist and slid the Versace diamond ring back on his finger.

  He held out his hand. “My cologne?”

  “Ahh!” The young balla grinned as he pulled a six-hundred-dollar bottle of Ambre Topkapi from his other pocket. “You got me, yo! You got me!”

  The older gentleman dug into the plastic bag full of cash and slid a hunk of hundred-dollar bills from the top of the stack. He counted off ten pieces of paper and handed them to his favorite nephew.

  “Good looking out,” he said as they dapped. “I can always count on you to put in work, D.”

  “Thanks, Unc. And thanks for sponsoring my team’s practice jerseys too. Temple is getting real cheap with the gear.”

  The older man nodded his understanding. Temple was his alma mater too. “Summer school going okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s a’ight. You coming out to our next scrimmage?”

  His uncle nodded before pulling off. “Damn right. You can count on it. I haven’t missed one yet.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I knew I had been fucked the moment I opened my eyes. My cell phone was ringing like crazy. I reached out wildly tryna find the noise and kill it, and I damn-near fell outta the bed because that bad boy was on the floor.

  I pressed the TALK button, then rolled over back on the bed.

  “H-h-hello?”

  “Bitch, wake up!” a loud-ass voice screamed in my ear.

  It was Bowlegged Bunni Baines, my best friend and partner-in-grime.

  Tangled in the old cotton sheets, I was butt-naked with my head resting on a flat, unfamiliar pillow. My aching legs were stretched wide-open, and my neatly trimmed triangle was still moist and sore from last night’s stunts.

  I opened one crusty, bloodshot eye and peered at the clock on the ancient nightstand. It was after ten o’clock in the morning and I had been out cold the whole night. My hand shot to the top of my head and I patted around for my strawberry-blond Glama-Glo wig. It was gone. And so were my diamond earrings and my matching braided-diamond bracelet too.

  “Girl, did you hear what I said? Wake your ass up!”

  “W-w-what?” I croaked. My voice came out ripped and rusty, like I’d been humping some nigga’s good wood all night and screaming out his name.

  “Gurlfriend ... ,” Bunni said in her classic hood drawl, “I’ma need you to open your eyes and pull yourself together, okay? You ain’t gonna believe this shit, but guess where me and Peaches just seent your picture at?”

  I swallowed a mouthful of sleep dust then blurted out, “On a wanted poster?”

  Bunni cracked up. “Nah, baby. I seent your mug on the back of a milk carton!”

  I groaned and rolled over in the lumpy king-sized bed.

  “Stop playing, Bunni. It’s too early in the morning for all that bullshit.”

  “Oh, ’scuse me, my bad.” She had the nerve to cop a little attitude. Bunni was ghetto-dipped in shiesty sauce, but she had one of the slickest con games in Harlem. We’d been best friends since the fifth grade, and even though we butted heads sometimes, she was exactly the kind of chick I liked having on my team.

  “Where the hell are you anyway? You was supposed to get that twenty large and come straight back last night!”

  Twenty grand.

  Suddenly I was wide-awake. I had a vivid flashback of getting nasty-knocked by some young dude I’d been trying to vic, and my stomach flipped over. Dropping the phone, I swept my foot around under the sheets and came up cold.

  Cursing, I sat straight up. My eyes darted all around the big, run-down suite and reality slammed into me like a big, black cannon.

  My mark had dipped.

  His name flashed in my head. Dajuan Latrell Sullivan.

  “Oh, shit!” I leaped from the bed and dashed across the room. My pink-and-blond wig was draped over a lampshade, and my oversized Fendi bag was laying on a large coffee table.

  I turned it over and shook it. Two mints, a tampon, my makeup bag, and my ID fell out.

  Other than that, it was empty.

  “A www w, shit!” I ran over to the crusty, linoleum-tiled bathroom and flung open the door. Empty.

  I jetted back across the room and peeked inside the large walk-in closet. Other than a rickety ironing board, some crooked clothes hangers, and two empty plastic bags, that shit was empty too.

  Back at the table, I picked up my bag again and saw the expensive-looking business card laying underneath it. The letters on it read D. L. S. in bright-red, extra-large script. I squinted hard to read the tiny print below the initials, then I blinked a few times until I could make out the horrifying words and a telephone number.

  D.L.S. aka Daddy Long Stroke. 1-900-FUK-A-LOT.

  I stared at the tangled bed where just hours earlier that nigga had had me moaning like a punk and getting my back blown out. The last thing I remembered was being dug out deliciously from behind, and then everything faded straight into fuzzy after that.

  My ass had been stole! I’d been got real good!

  And now, the only thing that was left to remind me of the long-legged Philly balla who had dropped something in my drink and lured me up to his penthouse suite, the so-called mark that I had been planning to gank for his watch, his ring, and every dime he had in his knotty-ass pockets, was a dent in the pillow where his head had lain!

  Hater-bitches ran real thick in Harlem, and every time I went around Bunni’s way some stupid chicks wanted to fight me. Well, I was ready for them chickens today. The street where Bunni lived was hot and funky. Somebody’s dog had busted into some garbage bags that were lined up on the curb, and they overflowed with beer bottles and dirty pampers. Little kids wore crushed soda cans on their feet and slid across the pavement like they had on skates.

  The porch monkeys were sitting on the front stoop puffin’ yay when I got off the number three train. I took off my shoes and walked up on them bitches like I was ready to throw down. Heffas musta sensed my heat ’cause none of them so much as looked my way. They just sat on them little plastic chairs smokin’ blunts and twirling that cheap-ass hair weave they bought from the ninety-nine-cent store.

  “Yeah,” I straight busted on them outta nowhere. “Check this out. The next time one of y’all hallway-hoes got something to say about me, say that shit to my face!”

  They looked at me like I was crazy, but I wasn’t fooled. One of these saggy-titty bitches had gone and blabbed to Punchie Collins that I was undercutting his drug sales by intercepting his customers before they could get upstairs to his dope house. Everything they’d said was true, but I dared one of these chicks to spit something clever out they mouths today because I was already steaming. That bandit-nigga Dajuan had jacked me for my dough, my earrings, my tennis bracelet, and my hot-pink thong too. I’d had to take the train home and sneak up under the turnstile with no drawers on just to get back uptown! Oh, yeahhhh. I would fuck a bitch up today!

  With my mug set i
n a hard grill, I ran up the steps holding my breath and dodging mad piss puddles. Bunni lived on the third floor, and when I got to the top of the stairs I hesitated for a second, wondering if I should tell my best friends a boldfaced lie. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was step up in that crib and admit how bad I’d fucked up with our cash.

  The three of us had needed that twenty grand, and me losing it was gonna put everybody in a bind. Peaches and Bunni were three months behind on their rent, and not only was I due in court on Monday to face a summons for writing bad checks, but Gutta, my thug nigga and gangsta boo, was getting sprung from the bing in less than a month, and I had lost his apartment and tricked up almost every dime of the twenty-five grand in cash that he had left me holding for him until he got out.

  We had targeted that pillow-biting principal for a gank because Peaches had seen him out flossin’ and figured he had big loot. The take was supposed to be a three-way split, and since Bunni and Peaches had done all the real work, all I had to do was go make the pick up and bring home the cream. But now that I had lost it all, what the hell was I supposed to tell them?

  Think, bitch, think! I screamed inside as I tried to figure out my next move. I pushed through the stairwell door, and I was so busy concentrating on coming up with a lie that I forgot to look out for Punchie Collins.

  I gasped as the weight of cold steel was pressed against my neck and I was shoved right back through the door. I stepped dead in the piss puddle that I had just dodged, and I flinched as Punchie hurled me up against the concrete wall.

  Pain exploded in my shoulder, but that was nothing compared to the hot fire that detonated in my back when he flung my ass down hard on the stairs.

  I shoulda known better than to fuck with Punchie Collins. That psycho nigga was medication-certified, and if I hadn’t been so scared of Gutta coming home and cutting my throat I woulda never violated Punchie’s little trap game the way I did.

  “Where my fuckin’ money at, Mink, huh? Nah, don’t get up. Stay ya ass down on the grimy steps where you belong. This ya office, right? This where you been conducting all my business without paying me my taxes?”