Sister Souljah - Life After Death

“Put your seat belt on, Tiger,” he said to me calmly, as though the whole riot-like scene in the convent had not just occurred.

“Brooklyn,” I heard Pretty’s voice. She was seated behind me. I was overjoyed! Then I fell immediately suspicious. Why was she in my man’s car while I wasn’t?

“How come you’re here?” I asked her.

“Of course I’m here. You are here. And I am your secretary,” she said, and sounded true. I relaxed.

“Shower together,” he said to me and Pretty once we were safe at home in his tower. I didn’t really get his instruction. He must have read my face. “The two of you have been through a lot over a period of time. I’m sure you may have some things you want to discuss. And you both are wearing the same clothes that you wore on the day of the accident. The shower in the guest room that your secretary is using is built for six. Enjoy,” he said, and walked in the direction of our private penthouse within the penthouse. I was still stuck on him pointing out that both Pretty and I were wearing our now-old new outfits. Of course I knew we were, but it hurt a little to hear it. I wanted him to see me as beautifully perfect all of the time.

The shower was like a little glass house. Turned out there were six showerheads and three hoses. That worked, because I liked my water way hotter than Pretty did. “I used to have eczema,” she said as she washed her body under the downpour of cold to moderately warm water.

“What’s that?” I asked, standing beneath the hot water that I enjoy.

“It’s like a skin disorder that come from being stressed and nervous.”

“You mean like rashes?” I asked.

“Really bad ones. The itch is so disturbing. But when you scratch it’s impossible not to scratch too much or too hard. Then the rash bleeds. It’s really ugly. My father sent me to the doctor for it. She said I was not to shower too often. Also, when I do shower, it should never be hot water.”

“So what about now? Your skin looks perfect.”

“That’s because I’m dead. What a relief. I’m way less stressed now than I was before. Although during that car chase, I felt stress like the stress of being alive. Do you remember, Brooklyn, how everything happened that night?”

“No, bitch, you don’t remember either. You were knocked out.”

“I wasn’t. I was experiencing a seizure.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s like panic that causes me to lose my ability to talk. But I’m actually awake.”

“Why do you have all of this shit when you look like you don’t have nothing wrong?”

“Didn’t you know? It doesn’t matter how a person or thing looks. Although every single one of us loves to be, see, and stare at a pretty, beautiful person or thing. On the inside a beautiful thing could be all fucked up, like me. But I like you because you see me as beautiful and named me Pretty even though I’m all fucked up inside.” She raised her left arm and flipped her wrist. “I saw you looking at the Rolex my father gave me. Usually it is right here covering up this,” she said, pointing out a deep, crooked thick dark scar. As I looked through the steam at her arm, I saw cut lines going all the way up to the underside of her elbow. “Those are from when I couldn’t make up my mind,” she said.

When we both stepped out of the bathroom, hair and body wrapped in long luxurious beach towels, he was bare-chested and seated in the center of Pretty’s bed.

“Tiger, let’s play,” he said. “Is that okay, or will you deny me?” I was stuck, caught off guard.

“Pretty, what’s up with all this?” I asked her. I was all cooled out before. Now I was gearing up to get pissy. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Pretty, that’s a nice name for you. You are not as beautiful as Tiger. But I can feel the love between the two of you. I’m feeling left out. So let me ask you, Pretty, am I wrong? Are you not in love with my tiger?”

“I am,” Pretty said.

“So you love what she loves. Is that right? That’s why you were sitting in my car when I left out of the convent today. Not for me, but for her?”

“Because I knew she would go there to your truck. I didn’t want to get left behind. So I snuck into the back. The door was unlocked,” Pretty explained. I was happy to hear that she was not in the truck with my man. And it sounded like she had not been having an affair with him while I was knocked out from the accident. Those facts were in her favor. I already knew he’s a fucking freak. Could I get mad at that?

“I told you not to have any other bitch in this house besides me,” I said to him.

“You said not to bring any other bitch in this house besides you. I didn’t bring Pretty. You did. I told you everything is mine. But I’m a gentleman. I never force anyone to do anything they do not agree to. So both of you tell me if you want me to leave. I’ll get up and leave. If both of you don’t mind, let’s play,” he said smoothly.

I looked at Pretty. “I don’t mind,” she said, and I was floored. Now I was left looking like the wet blanket canceling out his good time. I’m top bitch. If she agreed, wouldn’t that switch our positions in his heart, mind, and business?

“My tiger, if you agree, please remove Pretty’s towel. She wants to play with you.” I did. The towel dropped to the floor and she was naked. Her nipples were erect. “Pretty, please remove my tiger’s towel,” he said softly. She did. Now we were both naked. For some reason my nipples were also erect. Maybe it was because I was cold standing in a large bedroom in a high tower. “Both of you remove your hair towels.” We did. “Pretty, kiss my tiger on the mouth.” She walked up close on me. Instinctively I stepped back. She stepped up again. She closed in on my face and with open lips, she gave me the passionate deep kiss that I had craved from Dat Nigga but never received. I was kissing her back imagining that she was one of the three men of my heart, Midnight, Dat Nigga, or him, giving me finally what I want. I heard him pull back her bedsheet. He approached us. “Pretty, suck my tiger’s nipples. Can’t you see they are calling for your mouth?” Pretty began sucking my nipples. My pussy started throbbing. He stepped between us, used his left hand to finger me and his right hand to finger her.

Soon we were all three on the cold marble floor. He straddled me and began his stroke. As he stroked me, she was still there for some reason, kissing my face. I came continuously, and my cocked-open legs relaxed but remained open. He flipped off of me. Flipped her over and thrust into her ass repeatedly. She did not complain or resist. She moaned like she liked it a lot. I was conflicted. I did not want to be butt-fucked because of the risk. But I did not want her giving him anything that I had not allowed him. That would give her the advantage. I got up on all fours, doggy style. He was in the heat of excitement as he thrusted into her. When he glanced my way and saw me doggied there, he left her and pounced onto me with full adrenaline and lust. I was giving him what she was just giving him, but I was better. He was more lusty over me. I was top bitch.

Then the lights in the room switched off. I could not feel the weight of him on my back. In fact, I could not feel the weight of myself. It was as though I was suddenly tiny, really small. I called out to Pretty. But my voice was just a squeaky sound. I kept squeaking, thinking it was like clearing my throat and my real voice would come back. It never did. Pretty responded with only hisses. Oh no, oh no, oh no! I dashed. But my tiny legs couldn’t run fast enough. Now, with my same mind fully aware, I was between the jaws of Pretty, whose worst fear in the world became real. Now, she is a serpent. I am a goddamn rat. She is eating me, painfully. I know she has no other choice. I know the hunger of the serpent. I had been a serpent. Now I am what on lockdown only I caused others to be, food. The only thing left was for me to dissolve inside the belly of the beast and be shitted out. Fuck it, a pile of shit has no mind. I would finally be able to be dead. I would feel the relief that Pretty felt after she killed herself. Wouldn’t I?