Roy Glenn - Commit To Violence

"I don’t know, Diane. I just don’t think I could do that in front of a bunch of horny men."

"I’m tellin’ you, you could make a grip. You got a bomb-ass body too. Them titties and that ass, I’m tellin’ you, girl, you sleepin’ on your best money makers!"

After three weeks at Ecstasy, Jada became Miss Kitty. She waltzed out on stage dressed in a short, tight leather miniskirt with a garter belt, black fishnet stockings, black leather bra, and a long pair of black gloves. The final touch was a small and elegant silk mask. Within two months time, Miss Kitty had her own small but generous following.

Jada was invited to dance at a private party for a rapper called The One. It was the night that changed her life forever. Later that night, Jada was introduced to The One. "You a bad mutha fucka, you know that?" The One said to Jada.

"Thank you," she purred modestly.

"I wanna fuck you."

"It’ll cost you," Jada said.

"You ain’t said shit to me, mommy," The One said. "Why don’t I double what you usually charge? I always gets what I want."

Jada thought The One was fine as hell, but since she wasn’t plannin’ on fuckin’ him or anybody else in there, she decided to get ridiculous. "Two grand," Jada said quickly, thinking that he would say she was crazy.

"Why don’t we make it three," The One said and her eyes lit up. Jada saw herself as a dancer and an entertainer, not a ho. Most of the other dancers were letting drunk-ass niggas fuck them cheap. Jada had taken pride in the fact that she wasn’t that kind of dancer. But three grand just to fuck him, Jada knew that she couldn’t turn down that kind of money.

When it was over, and it didn’t last very long, Jada felt used. Probably because I have been used, Jada thought on her way to the elevator. But at the same time, she was smiling inside at the money she’d just made in less than five minutes, and Jada wondered who really used who. She began to think about how easy that actually was as opposed to what she was doing dancing at the club. She knew if she busted her ass and hustled all night, she could make a grand, maybe more on a good night. But Jada had just made three times that amount and barely broke a sweat.

When the elevator stopped on the twenty-sixth floor, a woman stepped into the elevator. "My name is Sasha Deverox." When Sasha told Jada that she was an escort, Jada knew Sasha was somebody she needed to get to know better. The way she was dressed, the way she carried herself, Jada knew being an escort was a much better hustle than stripping.

Sasha offered to let Jada work under her until she felt comfortable going out on her own. Under Sasha’s tutelage Jada learned how to walk, talk and dress like a lady. When that day came for Jada to go out on her own, she met with Sasha. "You think you’re ready to fly solo? Is that what you think you wanna tell me?"

"I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready."

"Look at you, Jada. All dressed up tryin’ to be a lady. Do you remember who you were when I met you? You couldn’t talk, you could barely walk without falling on your face, and you definitely had the most ghetto taste in clothes," Sasha laughed and Jada wanted to kick her ass. "I made you," Sasha leaned forward and said sternly. "It was me who taught you how to walk without falling; how to talk without having to end every sentence with a cuss word. And it was me who taught you how to dress like a lady. I taught you all those things. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be shakin’ your ass at that dive. I made you, Jada," she said again, but this time she stuck her finger in Jada’s face. "Never forget that."

"No, Sasha," Jada said to her. "I won’t forget any of that." Although she hated to admit it, Sasha was absolutely right about her.

Then Sasha smiled. "Stop looking like that." Her smile turned into laughter. "I was just playing with you. Listen, honey, I am so proud of you and the way you handle yourself now. Jada, you have come so far. You’ve been ready to fly solo for a long time."

Sasha was Jada’s madam. Even though she hated the word, she was her pimp. That’s where the money was, not laying on her back with her legs in the air. Jada was giving Sasha two, sometimes three grand a week. "If I were to get a couple of girls working for me, I could pull in five, six grand a week."

From there, Jada put together her team: Diane, Bella and Simone. Their target group was the new rich-the ones who just stumbled into money-the ones who don’t quite know how to act now that they had it.

"Ballers," Diane said.

"I’m talking about music industry insiders, rappers, music producers, actors, movie and television producers, and of course ballers," Jada told her new team. And from there Jada West worked her way to the top.

It was 8:00 p.m. sharp when Black and Victor arrived at Jada’s apartment. They went up in the elevator and Black rang the bell.

"What do you want me to do?" Victor asked.

"You wait here. Make sure nobody comes in on me," Black said.

"Just stand here; that’s it?"

"That’s it," Black said as Jada opened the door. As she always did every time he saw her, Jada looked phenomenal. She was dressed in a black Herve Leger armor trim dress with a single strap across the shoulder and a string of pearls.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," Jada said and smiled.

"Good evening, Ms. West."

"Please come in," she said and stepped to the side to let him pass.

Black walked in the apartment and looked around. "Very nice place you have here, Ms. West."

"Thank you, Mr. Black. Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you," Black said and watched Jada as she walked toward the bar to fix his drink. He liked Jada-admired her style. Aside from being one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, Jada West had class.

Jada returned with his drink and sat down next to him. "Remy Martin VSOP, right?"

"You remembered. I cannot help but be touched. But in your business, I’m sure little things like that are part of the job," Black said and Jada smiled.

"That’s true, but I think it’s more than that. I want to remember the things that are important to you."

"So what I drink is important to you?"

"You’re a very important man, Mr. Black. For more reasons than just business. Everything about you is important to me."

"You flatter me, Ms. West."

"You don’t have to be so formal, Mr. Black, you can call me Jada."

"Why don’t I just call you Miss Kitty," Black said.

Jada giggled and as she usually did, Black enjoyed the sound of it and the smile that came with. "Nobody has called me that in years," she said and thought back to the night she met Black. It was the same night she met The One.

Black was sitting at a table in the corner with the club’s manager, Bruce-Bruce, when he caught Jada’s eye. She was just about to make her way over there when she was surrounded by three men hollering, "Miss Kitty, Miss Kitty," and dropping money at her feet. Without taking her eyes off Black, Jada took off her outfit and went to work. When the song ended, Jada picked up her money and went back to the dressing room.

When she returned to the floor, Jada looked around the club for Black, but she didn’t see him. Jada was startled when a deep and sexy voice said, "Miss Kitty, right?"

"That’s me."

"I enjoyed watching you dance," Black said.

"Thanks. You a friend of Bruce-Bruce?"

"I guess you could say that."

"I haven’t seen you here before, so I guess you’re part of The One’s entourage."

Jada remembered that Black flashed a smile and she got wet. "Not exactly. I own the company that manages The One."

"Oh really," Jada said, knowing that Black was somebody she needed to know. They talked for a minute after that, and then Black left the party.