Fornication Volume One (Honey Dip) Read online

  “Wake up, baby.” She nudged his shoulder with one delicately manicured foot. “I’m gonna need you to stop acting like you live here and go home to your wife!” She licked the el seductively letting her tongue tease the tip. His eyes locked on her lips and that donkey dick stood straight up like a national monument.

  “I’ve got something for you to lick on, Portia.” Rich stretched and grabbed his dick with one hand and her foot with the other. He licked each toe slowly before sucking on the arch of her foot and sending tingles up her legs.

  Portia giggled and sparked up the el. “You want some more of this?” She put her other foot up on the bed and spread her legs wide enough to see her clit. “It’s nice and wet, daddy.” She pulled on the el hard. She held the smoke in and then lazily let it slide through her nose. Her pink silk robe fell from her shoulders, but the long black bone-straight weave she sported covered her breasts. She slid her hand between her legs and fingered herself until she could feel the wetness sliding over her ass.

  Rich released her foot and grabbed his balls. He stroked his wood furiously as he watched her finger herself.

  “You want some?” Portia asked slipping one finger inside of her hole while puffing the el, five quick tokes in rapid succession.

  “You know I do.” Rich sat up on the side of the bed, ducked under Portia’s extended leg and positioned himself right in front of her. He was rock hard and panting. He reached for her pussy and Portia smacked his hand away.

  “I was talking about this.” She laughed and handed him the blunt. He took it and placed it in the ashtray at the bedside.

  “You know what I want.” He grabbed her thighs and slid his hands up them until he had a firm grip on her ass. His hands were big and rough and the sandpaper effect that they had on her skin made her pussy pulsate.

  “My kitty is jumping,” she whispered in his ear while sliding her hands over his back. The weed worked its magic; all of Portia’s senses were amplified.

  He started to grind her ass into his lap while kissing and sucking on her neck. She felt the huge head of his wood slide back and forth across her clit. He lifted her up to insert himself, but she stopped him. The look of frustration on his face was priceless. Portia wanted to smile but knew it wasn’t the time to play with him.

  She nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip. “Two things, big boy: first, you need to wrap that shit up before you slide inside of me, and lastly, hitting this again is gonna cost you big time.”

  He rested his head on her shoulder but did not loosen his grip on her ass. “Why you playing me, yo? I just gave you a stack last night. My money ain’t on constant tap like those other nigga’s you be fucking with.”

  Portia slid her wet pussy over the shaft of his dick. “So, you don’t want this?”

  Rich grabbed a condom off of the dresser and handed it to her. “How much is it going to cost me?”

  Portia didn’t answer right away. She slid off of his lap and onto the floor. Ripping the condom open with her teeth, she put the tip in her mouth and rested the condom on his head. He gripped her head, which was a strict no-no, but she let him seeing how hard she was about to hit his savings account. Her lips rolled the condom down over the baseball bat he called a cock, and she slid her tongue over the huge vein until she reached the hair on his nuts. Rich’s entire body shivered. Portia sucked hard on her way up letting his dick pop out of her mouth and slap onto his stomach before jerking it back into her face.

  “I’m gonna need three grand more,” she said, rising slowly and straddling his waist.

  

  Honey-Dip put her head down and tried to block out the constant chatter of her cell mates. I need everybody in the fucking world to be quiet for twenty minutes so I can clear my damn brain, she thought angrily. Her head, stomach and pussy hurt from a hard-ass night on the strip, and she didn’t have a damn dime to show for it. The cops that knocked her made a short trip to Fairmont Park before taking her ass down town. She watched silently as they split the five-hundred dollars that it took her all night to earn. Then they cuffed her to the door of the police cruiser and took turns jungle fucking her. The short bald cop gnawed on her tits like they were made from jelly beans instead of flesh and blood. Both of the faggots played rough but she didn’t let out one scream or leak one tear. Rape was too damn common on the strip and Honey just didn’t slide into the victim role well.

  Honey was five-foot-seven and one-hundred-seventy pounds of thick, caramel-colored curves and attitude. North Philly born and bred, there wasn’t a drop of bitch in her blood and the empty bench she sat on in the crowded cell proved it. Ten bitches occupied the nine-by-twelve foot cage with her, but they gave her all the space they could, which was more than cool with Honey, she didn’t really feel like hurting a bitch. Her mind raced. She had to give her baby daddy a stack for her daughter’s senior class trip and she couldn’t, she was already in the hole for $2,500 with Portia. Damn, make that $3,500 after Portia posts bail. Her head pounded with a vengeance. Honey just couldn’t see any way possible to clear that type of cash in a couple of days. There ain’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Portia is gonna let me back out onto the strip.

  Honey shook her head to clear her mind. She took stock of the other girls in the holding cell. There were a few hoes, a couple of scrappers, a DUI, and a kid crying in the corner that looked like a fish out of water for real. Honey smelled the fear rolling off of the little girl in waves. She was a high-yellow little thing, probably one-ten soaking wet. The big ass-faced dyke in the corner couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. Honey’s stomach rolled at the thought of what Ass Face was going to do to that child once they made it to county.

  Honey forced herself to look away from the kid. That ain’t your business, Honey. You have your own damn problems. The girl’s soft moans and cries sounded like fingernails scraping against a chalkboard and Honey was hard pressed to ignore it. Come on, Portia, spring a bitch out of here before I lose my damn mind. Honey looked at the girl again and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, kid, come here.”

  Everyone turned around to stare at Honey except the little girl.

  “Yoo hoo, little girl in blue, bring ya ass and I’m not going to tell you again.”

  The little girl looked up at Honey, scrubbed her face with her shirt, and got up off the floor slowly.

  The ass-faced dyke looked ready to spit nails.

  Honey gave her a slow and deliberate smile. Try me if you want to, Bertha, I’ll beat the dog shit out of you in this cell. The dyke turned around and found something interesting to look at on the wall. Honey let the dangerous smile fall off of her face. I thought so.

  Honey brought her attention back to the shivering girl standing before her. She was a very pretty thing with wide ebony eyes and round cheeks. Her hair hung past her shoulders in a crinkly fro, and her blue sweat suit did nothing to hide her curvy figure. “How old are you?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone.

  “I’ll be twenty next week.”

  “You find somebody to bail you out?”

  “No, I don’t have anybody to call.”

  “Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’ll be spending your birthday at county.” Honey nodded at the bench. “Sit down. I want to share something with you.”

  The girl looked around nervously.

  Honey spoke through clenched teeth. “I said sit down.”

  The girl sat down on the bench slowly. She opened her mouth to say something but Honey cut her off.

  “Don’t talk, ’cause I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about what you did or didn’t do to get in here. I don’t care about why you can’t post bail. All I need for you to do is listen up and listen good. You are going to county, and if you are not interested in being Big Bertha’s bitch or anybody else’s bitch for that matter, you will need to stop crying and putting your head down. Pay attention to everyone, and remember that nobody gives a fuck about you or your story. You will not have a
ny friends. Are you listening to me?”

  The girl nodded weakly.

  “Good. If you are not a fighter, don’t fight, scratch, bite, cut or strangle. When the lights go out you go to work, and I guarantee nobody in their right mind will fuck with you. You hear me?”

  The young woman nodded again, the corners of her mouth turned into a smile.

  “Good girl. Now hold onto my words as if they were the gospel, and you’ll be just fine, come what may.” Honey yawned. “If you don’t mind, I would like you to get the fuck off of my bench. I feel like stretching out.”

  Chapter Three

  The cell bars clicked loudly as they slid to the side and slapped the cinder block wall. Honey was jarred out of her sleep, but she didn’t open her eyes. She sucked in a mouthful of air as she yawned and stretched and brought her hands up to rest on her belly.

  “Honey Darcell Jenkins,” The guard yelled at the top of her lungs. “Rise and shine, your stank ass just made bail.”

  The sound of her given name on that shemale’s lips crawled up under Honey’s skin and laid eggs. She laid there for a few seconds to gain her composure. Portia wouldn’t like me wasting her hard earned money by punching a bitch-ass guard in the face, she thought. Nope, that wouldn’t be a good idea at all. She sat up, stretched again and slipped on her shoes.

  She turned to the little girl in blue sitting next to the bench. “Hey, little bits, you remember what I said. You put in work; nobody here is going to protect you.” Honey stood up and worked her shoulders. She walked over to dykezilla in the corner and jumped at her like she was about to hit her. The big-ass broad cringed and tried to melt into the wall.

  “Do you want to get out of here or not?” the guard asked, pulling the bars closed.

  Honey squeezed through the opening right before they clinked shut. The guard laughed, and Honey shook her head.

  Bitches, she thought.

  Dread crept over her body as she made her way down the long haul that led to freedom. Portia was sitting on a bench next to an ATM. Her long, expensive weave was pulled back into a ponytail. She rocked Richard’s U-PENN sweatshirt with a pair of booty shorts and Timbs. I guess I have tricky Ricky to thank for springing me out of the joint. Honey’s eyes met the quiet rage in Portia’s gaze and she quickly looked away. She walked over to the counter to sign for her personal affects: a banged-up Minnie Mouse watch that her daughter gave her for Christmas a lifetime ago and an empty purse.

  Out of the frying pan into the fire, Honey thought.

  She walked to the car with her head down. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach and a lump rose to the back of her throat. She wished Portia would say something to her, yell, holler, scream, get smart, anything. Her quiet rage and disappointment broke Honey’s heart.

  If I were a crying bitch, a river would be flowing from my eyes right now, Honey thought as she stood by the passenger door, waiting for Portia to unlock it. I learned a long time ago that tears just made your face wet, and I can use a wash rag to do that. Honey slid into the car, buckled her seatbelt and stared out of the window.

  Portia spoke so softly when she pulled away from the curb that Honey had to crane her neck to hear her. “I have to make a couple of stops before I take you home.”

  “That’s cool,” Honey-Dip said just as softly. She wanted to say so much more, like how sorry she was. She looked at Portia out of the side of her eye, and had a sudden urge to explain herself and the jam she was in.

  However, she couldn’t.

  Her stomach twisted up into tight knots. Her mouth dried up and clamped shut. The pain of disappointing Portia was almost too much to bear. Honey crouched down in her seat and turned her attention back outside the passenger window.

  It was rare to see Portia get this upset about anything. That’s how she survived in this ass-for-cash game so long. She had a duck’s back, and bullshit slid off of it like rain drops.

  Damn, I wish Portia would say something to me, anything. But Honey knew that Portia didn’t do anything until she was good and ready. Honey turned on the radio to the smooth jazz station. The soft music wrapped itself around her, although it did nothing to ease her pain. I don’t know why the girl is so damn stubborn, Honey thought as she traced the stitching on her purse with her index finger. Then again it was Portia’s stubbornness that saved my life…

  Cold Turkey…

  Honey’s body was burning and freezing at the same time. Every inch of her skin hurt as if she were being pricked by a million needles. She shivered, bucked and rolled into a ball when cramps moved through her stomach like a wrecking crew. She gripped the sheets trying to make it to the edge of the bed so she could puke into the trashcan.

  She didn’t make it.

  The food that Portia had fed her two hours before came back up and was now splattered across the sheets. Honey moaned and tried to roll out of it, but her body locked up in painful spasm. The door swung open and a little boy poked his head in. Honey couldn’t remember his name. She reached out to him but he ducked back out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Honey wiped her face on her arm and tried to sit up but pain sliced through her forehead like a Ginsu knife. She fell back onto the bed cradling her head. “Oh, my God,” she sobbed. “I want to die.”

  Portia walked into the room and leaned on the dresser. She had a bottle of vodka in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. “Well, you’re not dying today so you should wish for something else.” Portia took a long drag off of her cigarette and shook her head. Grabbing her robe off of the back of the door, she laid it over the spit up on the bed so she could sit beside Honey-Dip.

  “You’re fucked up,” she said, swigging from the bottle.

  “It hurts so bad,” Honey cried.

  “What?” Portia asked. “Your head?” She grabbed a towel off of the nightstand and wiped the chunks off of Honey’s face. Portia let the cigarette dangle out of her mouth and put the bottle down so she could wipe it out of her hair, too. “You’re going to need a bath.” She threw the towel on the bed and picked her vodka back up. “This is some nasty shit.”

  “Oh, my God, I can’t take it.” Honey said, turning away from Portia.

  “Yes, you can,” Portia put her cigarette out in the ashtray.

  “I’m sick!” Honey screamed.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I need a fix.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Honey just stared at her.

  Portia shrugged. “What? You do need a fix, you look like shit.”

  Honey sat up wide-eyed. “You got something for me?” Her eyes darted around the room half expecting heroin to fall from the ceiling and spring from the walls.

  Portia frowned. “Sorry, I don’t keep that shit on me.” She pulled a pack of Newports from her back pocket. “You want a cigarette?”

  Honey smacked it out of Portia’s hand and scooted to the edge of the bed. “I don’t want a fucking cigarette, little girl. I need a hit.”

  Portia laughed and took a swig of vodka. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Are you deaf?” Honey asked, spitting on the floor. “I’m getting out of here, I need a fix.” Honey stood up and stumbled to the door.

  Portia sighed, put the bottle down and rose from the bed slowly. When Honey opened the bedroom door, Portia grabbed her arm and yanked her out into the hallway.

  “Get off of me,” Honey shouted. She tried to pull her arm free and fell onto the floor. Portia grabbed the collar of her nightgown and started dragging her down the hall.

  “Let me go!” Honey sobbed. Her arms and legs flailed about as Portia hauled her into the bathroom.

  “Peanut!” Portia screamed, turning on the shower. “Peanut, bring your ass up here.”

  Honey managed to get to her feet. She slapped Portia in the face hard enough to knock her head back.

  “Damn it, bitch, I’m trying to help you,” Portia shouted. She pushed Honey into the shower and stepped in after her. Hon
ey fought like a mad woman, but Portia pinned her arms to her sides and slid down the shower wall until they were both sitting in the tub. The hot water bit their skin as steam bellowed up around them. “Peanut, if I have to come down there, I am going to shoot you in the ass. Do you hear me?”

  “Get the fuck off of me,” Honey screamed.

  Portia slid her hands up Honey’s arms and locked her fingers around her neck. “If you scream one more time, I promise you, I fuckin’ promise you that I will choke the life out of you. Shut the fuck up!”

  Honey began to gag and sputter. She clawed at Portia’s fingers but could not loosen their hold.

  Peanut poked his head into the room. “Did you call me?”

  “Yes, I called you, nigga. Hand me some soap, shampoo, and a couple of wash cloths. Take all of that dirty shit off of Honey’s bed and put clean sheets on it.

  “But, Portia…”

  “But, Portia, my ass. Do what I tell you to do or so help me God I’m going to put a bullet in your ass for real.”

  Peanut walked over to the tub and yanked Portia’s hands from around Honey’s neck. “I was trying to say you’re killing her.”

  Portia released Honey’s neck and her head rolled back on Portia’s shoulder. “Great. That’s just great. Peanut, turn the cold water on and the hot water off.” She patted Honey’s face. “Come the fuck on, wake up.”

  Honey’s body jerked when the cold water hit her skin. She coughed a few times and rubbed her neck. Portia pushed her to the side and climbed out of the tub. She grabbed a towel off of the rack and wiped her face. She took the soap and shampoo that Peanut offered her and began soaping up a wash rag. She pulled the soaking nightgown over Honey’s head and began to scrub her face and neck.