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Authors: Treasure E. Blue

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BOOK: Keyshia and Clyde
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Chapter 7
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Clyde was dressed all in black as he staked out an uptown cat named Sugar Bear, who was from 142nd between Lenox and Seventh avenues. Sugar Bear's crew was clocking major dough 24/7 on the crack tip. He had an old-school Harlem mentality, which meant that he had to flaunt and floss at all times. In fact, he drove a different car every week. Sugar Bear was big, black, and built like a small sumo wrestler. If it weren't for his round midsection, he would have been considered muscular. He was especially nice with the hands and was known to knock niggas out with one punch. Fridays and Saturdays were his nights to trick, and he loved freaky, scandalous young girls, the nastier the better. His MO was to pick them up from bars or clubs and flash thick wads of money in front of them to entice them and then take them to a local motel for sex. He was very hard to please and would try to convince them to let him have anal sex as an incentive for more money. When they declined, he would force himself on them, which turned him on even more.

Clyde had already stolen a car for the job that night and was staked out in front of a club on 126th Street between Park and Lexington. As he waited, slumped over in the car, not an hour had passed before Sugar Bear and a girl who looked no older than eighteen emerged from the club. It was on, Clyde thought.

Clyde kept a good distance away from Sugar Bear's sparkling black Lexus coupe, as he drove at a steady pace uptown on Seventh Avenue. Just as Clyde thought he would do, Sugar Bear drove over the bridge and into the Bronx and headed toward Ford-ham Road to a motel near the Bronx Zoo. Perfect, Clyde thought, he didn't have to worry about any evening motel clerk getting a glimpse of his face. His only concern was the outdoor cameras.

When Sugar Bear pulled into the motel parking lot, Clyde slowed and parked on the street so the cameras wouldn't record him entering the lot. He watched as Sugar Bear emerged from his vehicle and went into the lobby of the motel to pay for the room. Clyde loaded his weapon with bullets and waited. About ten minutes later, he watched Sugar's broad body step out of the office and walk toward his car. Sugar had extra pep in his step as he walked, probably anticipating the young piece of ass that he was surely about to slay. Sugar motioned for the girl to step out of the car and then from the backseat pulled out what appeared to be a brown bag. Clyde decided to wait at least an hour to allow Sugar to dull his senses with the alcohol and catch him at his weakest. Clyde had learned long ago to never sleep on a potential vic. He wanted to give himself any kind of edge over them so that it didn't turn out to be more than just a robbery; he didn't want it turning into a murder. After all, he was dealing with a big deadly street nigga, who didn't last this long in the game without learning a thing or two. Clyde had to be ready for anything.

Sugar Bear lay back lazily on the queen-size bed as he swallowed another cup of Rémy Martin's 1738 cognac. He was undressed and had one hand on the cup and the other in his boxers.

“Yeah, baby, let me see what that tight body look like. Take that shit off.” He stared lustfully at Keyshia's firm body as she gyrated herself into a sexual frenzy. She put her fingers down her half-open jeans and pulled them out and licked them like a lollipop. She stared at him with her slanted eyes and played coy.

“Now, you know how this works, baby, ” Keyshia said, and licked her lips seductively. “Money on the dresser makes this pussy wetter.”

Sugar smirked and said, “Bitch, you ain't sayin' nothin' but a word.” He scooted his three hundred–plus pounds off the bed and reached in his jeans and pulled out three fat wads of money neatly stacked with rubber bands. With the zeal of a king, he said, “So now what's up?” as he tossed the money on the bed. “I got enough money for you to suck the farts out of my ass if I want to, so what you wanna do?”

Keyshia frowned at his crass statement but looked at the money and went against her better judgment. He fell back on the bed and opened up one of the knots and flipped through it, ensuring she saw it all, and said, “Bitch, I'm a freak, and I pay lovely for what I want and how I want it.” He stared at her so she would know exactly where he was coming from. Keyshia didn't bat an eye. “I might want some deep throat, I might want some pussy. But if you a real bitch and wanna earn some real ends, you let me get some of that asshole, lick my nuts and my ass.” He peeled off two hundred-dollar bills and threw it to her and said, “And it's more where that come from. You just say the word.”

Keyshia attempted to pick up the bills, but he stopped her. “Oh, I forgot, one more thing.” He opened his fist and showed her five vials of crack and tossed them on the bed also. “I heard about you for a minute now,” he said as he observed her closely. “I saw you in the video fucking the shit out of my mans and them. I knew I had get some of yo' young ass.”

He flashed a wicked smile as she took the money and crack vials off the bed. After pocketing the money, she began taking off her clothes. He smiled and pulled off his boxers, filled his cup, and got an instant hard-on as he stared at her thin, almost perfect, youthful body. He poured another drink and downed it in one gulp and urged her to smoke her shit. “See, I already knew you smoke crack. To each his own, that's how I look at it. You like what you like, and I like what I like.”

Keyshia knew that the alcohol had relaxed him because he was becoming too talkative. He preached on, “But we all got our own turn-ons, and I got mines.”

Keyshia barely paid him any mind as she busied herself gutting a cigar. She then dumped her weed inside the empty leaf and sprinkled crack over the weed. When she lit it, she immediately leaned back at ease and listened to his confession.

Sugar Bear was now transfixed in his own imagination and said, “But, what I really, really like when I'm getting down the most is that
boy pussy.”

Keyshia nearly choked on her blunt smoke. She stared at him to see if he was serious and all he was doing was smiling and reminiscing. “That boy pussy,” he continued, “is the best thing out these days. If you want, I could call my li'l friend up and we could have a real party.”

Keyshia was speechless and sure of one thing at that moment: She was definitely going to make him wear a condom!

Clyde checked his watch and was satisfied that he had given them enough time and reached for a small jar of Vaseline. He quickly wiped a thick amount over his face and eyes and then put on his ski mask and gloves. He checked his weapon and leapt from the vehicle and into the parking lot bushes. He waited in the bushes for another minute or two to scope out the traffic within the lot and ran as low as he could toward their room door.

Inside the room, Sugar was forcing his rather large genitalia in Keyshia's mouth, but she was choking from the pressure he was putting on her. “Come on, ma, I know you can do better than that,” he said as his frustration grew. His dissatisfaction with her continued to grow until he finally stopped her and said, “Man, you ain't doing it right, let me show you how to do this shit!”

To Keyshia's horror and utter surprise, she watched the huge man contort his back and neck all the way down to his penis and put it into his mouth. She cringed as she watched him force and swallow his own penis into his mouth until it disappeared down his throat! When he pulled it out of his mouth, he sat up, heaving heavily, and smiled. “See, that's how I want you to do me. Put all this shit down your tonsils. If I could do it, you can, too.”

Keyshia grew apprehensive and began shaking her head as she backed away from him. She knew at that moment he was a sick, sick man, and he scared her. “No, I don't want to do this no more. I's gives you yo' money back and I's just want to go.”

Sugar Bear was furious. “Bitch!” he snapped. “You ain't going no fuckin' where!”

Keyshia froze as he flew off the bed like a raging bull, grabbed her by her hair, and tossed her back on the bed. “Now open your fucking mouth and take all this shit just like I showed you!” Keyshia struggled violently, but he was a brute and slapped her each time she resisted.

Outside, Clyde made it to the door and listened to Sugar Bear's booming voice.

“Oh, shit, young girl, that's right . . . take all this shit, that's how the fuck you do it.”

Clyde knew they were in a compromising position and decided to make his move right then and there. He held the shotgun firmly in his hand, backed up a few feet, and kicked the door wide open. He caught Sugar slipping something lovely as he was laid all the way back on the bed with his hand on the back of Keyshia's head, thrusting it rapidly on his penis.

“What the fuck . . . ?” Sugar said.

Clyde saw the terror in his eyes as he leveled the weapon at his face. “Get the fuck on your stomach and put your mother-fuckin' hands behind your head!” he yelled.

“Okay, okay, man, just don't shoot!” Sugar Bear said nervously, his voice several octaves higher than Clyde's.

The thin, naked girl scurried on the ground, covering her head, sniveling tears of fear. Clyde looked at her and felt sorry, 'cause she appeared to be no older than fifteen and was obviously living harder than the average girl her age, because her rib cage protruded through her skin. But he couldn't show any compassion at that point and yelled at her, “Get the fuck up off the floor, bitch, and shut the fuck up!” She obeyed.

When she stood up, it was then that Clyde recognized her face. She was the same girl who'd saved him in Marshall's a few months ago. When she stood up, still frightened, Clyde got a full view of her naked body. He wanted to turn away. She was skinnier than he'd thought, almost as skinny as those Africans on the UNICEF commercials. He grew angrier with Sugar Bear, wondering what the fuck in the world this grown-ass man, well in his forties, could possibly want from a child like her.

“Put on your clothes,” he said to Keyshia. He walked slowly over to the side of the bed where Sugar's black, naked ass lay nervous and trembling in fear. Clyde stared down at him with disgust and unleashed a wicked blow to his head with the butt of the shotgun, causing the big man to squirm in pain.

“Please, man,” he pleaded, “don't hurt me. Take the money, all of it. I ain't gonna give you no problems.”

“Shut the fuck up and give up them rings and bracelets.” Sugar obeyed while shaking uncontrollably. Clyde wondered if this was the same dude with the feared reputation. He was shaking so badly that he could hardly take off his rings or bracelets. Clyde delivered another vicious hit to his ear. “Faster, mother-fucka. Faster!” Sugar shook like an epileptic. After he took off all the jewels, he stared at Keyshia as she shifted from foot to foot as if she had to go to the bathroom. Clyde stood over him and stuck the shotgun under his jaw and spoke in an eerie whisper: “You like little girls, motherfucka?”

Bear panicked and began to cry. “Man, I don't know what you talking 'bout, she . . . she told me she was eighteen.”

Clyde hit him again, this time drawing blood from his ear. “Do she look eighteen, motherfucka? You think I'm stupid?”

He unleashed a barrage of blows to the back of his head while Sugar Bear pleaded for his life: “Please, man, I'm sorry, I don't want to die, please.” Clyde looked over at Keyshia, who was almost fully dressed but still a nervous wreck, and stared at her as his chest heaved in and out. Clyde reached in his back pocket and pulled out a folded-up nylon laundry bag and tossed it on the bed toward Keyshia. Keeping an eye on Sugar, he said, “Put all his money and jewelry in the bag.” He watched the girl scramble as she complied with his orders. “Put his pants and his kicks in the bag while you at it,” he added as an afterthought. Clyde turned his attention back to Sugar and stuck the barrel of the weapon between his ass cheeks.

Sugar pleaded, “Aw, man, shit! Don't do this, please don't do this.”

Clyde smiled and pushed the barrel deeper into his rectum. “Move again, motherfucka, and I'm gonna blow your asshole out!” Clyde twisted and turned the weapon all around his rectum, tearing it to shreds as he continued to taunt him. Keyshia couldn't stand to watch, too afraid even to move any longer. Just as Sugar Bear was about to pass out from the pain, Clyde began pulling it out slowly and said, “Now, the next time you think of fucking li'l girls, remember how it feels”—he shoved the shotgun up his ass again, and Sugar Bear screamed so high and loud, you would have thought he was a woman—“to have a shotgun barrel rip your ass apart, motherfucka.” And pulled the shotgun out of his ass in one swift move. Sugar Bear cried out in relief.

Clyde looked up and almost forgot that Keyshia, who was still holding the bag, was in the room. He walked directly up to her and turned toward the table and saw the vials of crack and blunts and tobacco. He stared at Keyshia with disappointment as she put her head down in shame. Clyde snatched the bag from her and shook his head as he backed out of the motel room.

Outside, he ran to the bushes to assess his getaway and strip and stash his clothing and weapon. He saw the room door open and the girl yelling as she tried to walk out of the motel when suddenly Sugar Bear snatched her back in as if she were a rag doll. Clyde cursed under his breath and regretted not telling her to leave because he knew Sugar would try to take his frustration out on the closest person to him. Clyde wanted to leave well enough alone, but his conscience was pulling at him. He stared at the silhouette through the window shade of the two bodies in a violent struggle. He tried to walk off, but he was stuck. He looked at the window once more and cursed under his breath again.

“Get your fuckin' hands off of me!” Keyshia screamed as she tried to free herself from his powerful grip.

Sugar hauled off and slapped her viciously, sending her flying down on the bed. “Bitch, I know you had something to do with it!” he roared. “You and that nigga set me the fuck up. I saw y'all whispering in the corner, and you think I'ma gonna let you leave without you telling me where that nigga is from?” Keyshia was so heated that he had slapped her, she reached for her purse to get her knife. “Oh, no you don't, bitch,” he said, and snatched the bag out of her hand before tossing it away. He grew angrier and grabbed her by her throat. “Bitch,” Sugar said through gritted teeth, lifting Keyshia up off the bed, “if you don't give me a name and address of that soon-to-be-dead nigga, I'm gonna choke the fuck out of you.”

BOOK: Keyshia and Clyde
2.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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