Sister Souljah - Life After Death

“That’s the first thing I saw on you. I hope you don’t mind,” he said, snapping me back into focus. Winter, you’re with this dude now, in his penthouse, amazed in his exciting maze.

“What?” I asked lovingly.

“These.” He pinched both of my nipples. “I saw these poking out of your tight coat. I thought, ‘What a bold beauty. She’s naked beneath her coat.’ I started imagining you nude. It was sexual first. I hope you don’t mind. I saw your most attractive eyes, nose, lips, and face secondly.” We fucked there on the wall. It was beastly, and when we were both satisfied, he had passion marks all over his body. My body felt raw, like the whole thing was one throbbing nerve. My pussy felt greedy, like it had to have more… soon. Even my nipples were pulsating. I wondered if his balls felt to him the way my nipples felt to me. I had given him the right blend of licks and sucks and heat and friction everywhere.

23.

An alarm went off. It pierced through my deep sleep. It seems I only slept soundly in this realm after a long night of thorough fucking. And last night or whatever time it was, I was completely and thoroughly and repeatedly fucked. I sat up. I wasn’t alarmed, even though the sound was annoying and overpowering. I feel safe here… with him… in his Light House. He was the commander in chief. That’s higher than the CEO, at least in my mind. But he was not beside me, as he was throughout the night. He must be out giving orders, protecting his property.

I stretched my legs. I smelled my sheets before I stripped them off of me. They smelled like sex. I placed my pretty feet on the cold marble floor. The cold surged through my body, helping me to awaken even more. I walked over to his rack and pulled down one of my six new robes and nighties. I put one on before showering, only because of the ringing alarm. I walked to the door and pressed the button. The thin steel doors slid open. I don’t know which is more impressive: the secure powered soundproof doors, or the high-powered alarm that was able to cut through the sound-proofing enough to allow me to hear it, but now sounded ten times worse. I could here Pretty’s voice, Bridgette’s voice, and running feet.

“I’m looking for y’all!” Pretty called out.

“We are looking for you too,” Bridgette called out from elsewhere.

“I’m right over here!” I yelled out. Then there was the sounds of running feet once again.

“Stop moving,” Bridgette demanded. “Two of us have got to stop moving and one of us has to follow the sound of the voice.”

“I’ll run to you. Say something and stay still right wherever you are now!” Some time passed before I heard Pretty and Bridgette celebrating because they had found one another. Their celebration was beneath the sound of the screech of the alarm.

I plugged each of my ears with a finger to drown out the noise. I told myself not to close the steel doors until they showed up. I’m rhyming so they could follow the sound of my voice, even though I could not hear myself! “Throw your hands in the air. And wave ’em like you just don’t care. And if you’re feeling good and you love your hood, everybody say, oh yeah! And you don’t stop… Ain’t no party like a Brooklyn party and a Brooklyn party’s nonstop…”

Pretty and Bridgette arrived gasping. Once they saw me they both put their hands over their ears. I pulled them inside and pressed the button so the door would seal and they could escape the deafening sound minus times ten.

“Is there a fire?” I asked, my ears and their ears all unplugged and the alarm muted.

“No, not a fire,” Bridgette said, calming down swiftly as though nothing had just occurred.

Pretty still had a painful look on her face.

Bridgette started wandering all around the space looking at everything like a detective.

“This is the master apartment, a penthouse within the penthouse. So amazing. Oh, oh, oh bingo! I finally found it,” she said once she saw his wheeled rack of treats, weed, pills, cocaine, cigarettes, cigars, and bidis. Plus there were chocolates, caramels, gummy bears, Pixy Stix, and Now & Laters below. She opened her satchel and started grabbing from the top shelf.

“Chill,” I told her. “Put it all back. I don’t want him to suspect me of stealing his shit. I’m trying to build up a trust. And as you can see, so far, the better my bond with him, the better it gets for you two. Besides, I am sure if you ask for it, he will give it to you easily.”

“Okay, let’s put it all back,” she said as she began placing everything back in its slot. “Except let’s blow one pot stick together. Like you said, he won’t mind.” She was already holding one of his novelty lighters and lighting up.

“Aren’t y’all worried about the alarm? It’s much better in here. But I can still hear that it’s on,” Pretty asked.

“Here, this is some awesome pot. Have some. You won’t even hear the alarm. Even if you still hear it, you won’t even give a fuck,” Bridgette said. She was already buzzed. Pretty took a few pulls and I could see that it lessened her nervous feeling. “I’ve learned so much in a little bit of time.” Bridgette said it like whatever she had found out upgraded her status in our trio acquaintance. She wanted us to ask her and to need to know what she had discovered. She handed the joint to me. I took a pull.

“The alarm, it’s about a security breach. His son—you know, the one who you vomited on outside of the nightclub—is attacking the Light House with a bunch of other dudes.”

“That’s dumb,” I said, still toking. “How’s he going to win by attacking his own father who lives in a tower? He’s just gonna get humiliated like he did at the club. Then he’ll start apologizing like a little bitch.”

“What does his son even want? You don’t want him. I don’t want him. So what the fuck?” Pretty asked me.

“He’s scared. Scared people always come with a bunch of niggas to fight one man. That’s the only way they can possibly win,” I said.

“No, but his father has got a whole army. He’s not just one man. So it should be a brutal fight to the finish,” Bridgette said, getting amped back up.

I finally asked her, “How do you know he’s got an army? And how do you know it’s his son leading the attack against him?” I questioned in a “prove it” tone.

“I saw it in the security room. Olga rushed through the crazy maze as soon as the alarm went off. She jumped out of bed and I followed her. There was a screen and she could view what was happening everywhere in this tower. She got right on a walkie-talkie and commanded the Yoo-nicks to mobilize. I thought this was an army of men who were stationed somewhere close to the tower. But then I heard first, and eventually saw, multiple men in black, up here sprinting through the maze to go put down the attack. They’re all living up here in one big area, dormitory style, one cot each.”

“Or like jail,” I commented but really was just recalling jail before conviction and imprisonment.

“Oh, this guy has everything that no one else at the Last Stop has got. And Olga seems to be his right-hand man. That’s one of the reasons I’m sticking close to her.” She laughed.

“Not because she has pot sticks?” I asked, mocking her.

“I wish! Olga doesn’t drink or smoke. Picture that,” Bridgette said.

“So that’s why you were out last night searching the entire penthouse, for weed , but saying it was for something else,” I checkmated her. I knew when she rushed up on me and him in front of the shark room, she was out doing what crackheads do, fiending. I mean, me and Pretty smoke of course. But there’s a difference between us and fiends. Fiends behave in a certain desperate way. Back in Brooklyn, when certain crackheads had smoked up all their dollars and needed the next hit, they would wander around the streets looking all over the ground for anything to smoke that may have been dropped or partly used. One crackhead who was not looking where she was going, and was so desperate in her search, crashed right into a pole and busted her head.