Brooklyn Brothel by C. Stecko Page A

probably haven’t washed your hands yet anyway,” she joked.
    Nothin’ was funny to me. Nothin’ at all. I thought about what I had said to Sasha to make her think we were a couple all of a sudden. Then I remembered. When I was cummin’ about the third or fourth time, I did say, “Damn girl…I think I love you.”
    Again, I got hit with another crazy expression from Maria. Our friendship was gonna be shot all for a quick nut or two. I wanted to kick myself.
Here I go again, makin’ bad decisions
, I told myself.

    Half the day passed by, and I was back in line for the third time of the day. My red ensemble was a hell’u’va choice. The red fish-net stockings, and next to nothin’, boy shorts allowed my butt cheeks to hang out, which made me just as scrumptious as a piece of red velvet cake. I stood real cocky-like with my red bustier front and center for the new guy to see. I made sure I stood at the complete opposite end from Sasha. She hadn’t said anything since the Maria ordeal, but she’d been throwin’ me shade ova the last couple of hours. I mouthed to her that we needed to talk. Just before her response could be made, a thin, brown-skinned gentleman with well defined muscles stopped in front of me. I smiled widely after he chose me, then led him to the third room to my left, as he introduced himself as Muhammed. He reminded me of someone, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew I loved muscular black men with beards. His was sorta too long and bushy, but it was kinda turnin’ me on.
    “Are you a Muslim?” I asked.
    “Are you a housewife?” he responded.
    We laughed together while I squeezed the skin on his upper body tryin’ to see if he was as firm as he looked. I could tell he worked out and that he was in his late twenties.No lines, or wrinkles around his eyes or hands. As we walked to our assigned room, I rubbed all ova his body just a lil’ more, then made my way down to his crotch. Surprisingly, he was already rock hard.
    Muhammed told me up front that he wanted the works, yet didn’t have a lot of cash. He opened up a black bag that revealed tons of fine jewelry. He admitted to robbin’ a jewelry store some weeks ago and offered me jewelry in exchange for sex.
    “I need some cash,” I said, obviously slightly interested in the jewelry.
    “I got a hundred and fifty. You can choose a piece of jewelry to cover the rest.”
    While I thought about his offer, Muhammed dumped all the pieces onto the bed.
    My eyes were blinded by sparklin’ diamonds, colored emeralds, 18 carat gold chains, and a fine set of white pearls. Pearls had a special place in my heart. They reminded me of my mother. It was the only thing that her mother, my grandmother, had left her. She’d inherited them from a rich woman that she worked for back in the 40’s and told my mother to pass them on to me when I got of age. Of course, I neva got’em.
    “I’ll take these,” I announced, gazin’ at the long pearl necklace.
    “Damn…you got good taste lady. I need some head, some ass licking and everything for that.”
    I laughed and told him for the head I wanted the gold chain too, for my son.
    Muhammed nodded and slipped his shoes off his feet. It was crazy ’cause all of a sudden it came to me; he reminded me of the rapper Ja Rule with a long, thick beard.
    I started to undress him seductively by liftin’ his shirt ova his head. His abs were incredible, so appealin’. I wantedto lick his mid-section. I unfastened his belt, and allowed his pants to fall to the floor. I dropped to the floor, grabbin’ at his erect penis and sucked him off for the next five minutes. When he came, he squirted like an out of control water gun. I felt pleased with my work, ’cause Muhammed’s eyes had rolled to the back of his head.
    I wanted to keep my gig movin’, so I could get back out there to scoop another John. I pushed Muhammed back into the chair next to the dresser and told him to sit back and relax. I swayed back