The Black Diamond Trilogy

“Didn’t I tell you I had you covered?” Romeo yelled over the loud music, which filled each corner of Club Onyx, an upscale gentleman’s club in the south part of Philadelphia. “It has wall-to-wall bitches in here, man, and I’m not even talking about the stripper hoes. It’s always more chicks in here than niggas, all of them ready to give up some ass.” He laughed as he patted Reed on the shoulders and pushed him through the entrance of the club.

Reed immediately noticed the large stage, which had three poles and lights that lined the entire edge. On stage was a stripper who was skillfully working her way down the pole with her legs only. Reed shook his head, thinking how she had the strongest legs he’d ever seen. “Drop and Gimme 50” by Mike Jones was blasting though the sound system and the stripper known as Montana was working the stage, commanding the attention of every person, male and female, in the room. Reed was in a daze, almost frozen in the spot where his feet rested. Things had definitely changed; he certainly remembered this a lot different before getting booked.

“I see. I definitely can appreciate the abundance of pussy all up, down, and around here.” Reed laughed and slapped Romeo a five. “Damn it feels good to be home.” He continued to laugh, looking at the many asses jiggling and bouncing around. All he could do was shake his head in amusement. He felt like a kid in a candy store as his eyes wandered wildly and he held in drool that was slowly making its way to his lips. He was positive that any man who’d ever been in prison before could totally relate to the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline that was rushing through his veins.

“I got us a VIP section in the back,” Romeo yelled, regaining Reed’s attention.

The two men made their way over to the far rear corner of the club. The section was filled with plush upholstered armchairs and featured mini coffee tables that were adorned with white runners and large stainless-steel wine buckets. Some of the dancers walked around from hustler to hustler, grabbing a quick lap dance and a few dollars. Reed tried to hold it together as he didn’t want his dick to begin bursting through his pants, bringing any extra attention, but he knew there wasn’t any way he could make it through the night without it. Just the scent of the women was sending his senses wild.

“You all right, my nigga?” Romeo yelled, laughing at the faces Reed was making.

“Yeah, I’m good, just happy to be home you know. Can’t wait to get up in some pussy, man, straight up.” He laughed.

Romeo laughed at his friend, knowing exactly how he felt. He looked over at a dancer named Lucky as she entered the room with her stallion strut. Her caramel skin glistened in the colorful lighting, which flashed continuously from the ceiling. He was familiar with what she was capable of so he knew she was the perfect dancer to pay Reed some extra special attention for the evening. He raised his left hand in the air and waved her in their direction.

She nodded and began walking over to where the two men were seated. She bent over with her ass pointed up in the air and her long twenty-seven-inch ponytail extension draped to one side. Her pink thong panties were pulled down to the center of her ass, making it appear even plumper.

To Reed, the two round cheeks that sat inches away from his face looked as appetizing as a well done piece of porterhouse with a coat of Jack Daniel’s Barbeque Sauce. He was tempted to reach out and grab it but he knew that was an offense that could have him ejected from the club. Instead, he sat patiently, waiting to see what Romeo had up his sleeve.

As Reed bobbed his head to the music he noticed Romeo pointing at him from his peripheral view. A few seconds later, Lucky was bending over, slowly whispering in his ear. “You wanna head to the private room with me?” she asked, seductively licking her lips.

Reed looked up at her and quickly replied, “No doubt,” smiling from ear to ear. He stood from the chair, looking down at Lucky’s ass, and began to follow her lead. Before walking out he reached behind his back and gave Romeo dap followed by a quick nod to thank him.

The two went into the back, where she was prepared to put on a show worth every penny of the five crisp one hundred dollar bills that Romeo had secretly slipped into her bra top. As he sat down he could feel the bass of the music vibrating through his body. The sexually charged track “Ride It” by Ciara appropriately boomed through the speakers.

Lucky stood in front of Reed and slowly began to gyrate her hips, swaying them from side to side, front to back, against the beat of the song. He instantly began to feel his dick throb and growing hard as a brick. The sensitivity of the head rubbing against his boxers and jeans kept him struggling to stay still in his seat. She moved closer to him and quickly turned around and moved to a seated position with both of her hands gripping the arms of the chair. The aroma of her perfume was tickling his nostrils with delight; even the scent of her hair smelled like something you’d want to eat for dessert. Lucky was a skilled dancer, not the run-of-the-mill ass shaker. She moved in ways he’d never seen or even knew were possible. He almost felt like a virgin staring at his first piece of ass. At one point, she even did a spilt over the chair handles and dipped her ass all the way down to the crotch of his pants and then up in front of his face. All he could imagine was him getting inside of her.

After twenty minutes of being tortured he thanked Lucky for the entertainment and began to head out of the room. He turned to look back at her but she had already disappeared through the door in the rear of the room. He shook his head and let out a laugh. He knew it was against the rules for the two to exchange numbers or make promises to meet at a later time. Though he was horny as hell he wasn’t one to fuck up another person’s cash flow, especially if he wasn’t prepared to foot the bill. Shit, he had so much to do to get the streets back in order, a relationship, other than the one he thought he’d come home to, was the furthest thing from his mind.

He walked out and returned to the VIP section to find Romeo drunk as hell and grinning like a Cheshire cat. The sight was pretty comical and was just the laugh that he needed.

“So how was it?” he asked as he struggled to keep his balance.

“Torture, man.” He laughed. “Naw, thanks, my dude, it was all good, just wish I could’ve taken her home.”

“Awww come on. I know you ain’t had no ass in a long time but you ain’t T-Pain and you can’t be falling in love with no damn stripper.” He laughed.

“Love? Nigga, please, I’m just tryin’a get rid of two years worth of build up.” He laughed.

“Too much information, nigga, way too much.” Romeo laughed. “Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry as hell. You wanna hit South Street Diner before I run you home?”

“Yeah, your drunk ass needs to sober up a bit anyway.” He laughed. “Let’s roll.” He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet to leave the hostess a tip. He felt a loose bill and retrieved it, not remembering putting any money into his pocket. He unfolded the crisp one hundred dollar bill and noticed a telephone number and a kiss in bright pink lipstick. Beneath the kiss was a note that read: “Call me . . . Olivia aka Lucky xoxo.” He smiled, folded the bill, and put it back into his pocket. After tossing twenty dollars on the table he gave Romeo the signal to head toward the door.

The two men exited the club and walked toward Romeo’s car. Before entering, Reed caught a glimpse of a black Range Rover riding by with twenty-four-inch rims and dark tinted windows. The car pulled over and the driver and two passengers emerged. The driver—a tall, thin, dark-skinned man—appeared to be in charge. You could tell by the attention that he commanded and the way that everyone followed his lead. Reed was used to being the center of attention so he found himself interested in the identity of the ringleader. Romeo looked up from flipping through his cell phone as the rumbling in his stomach was digging a hole into his back.

“Yo, what’s up, man? I’m starving like Marvin over here,” Romeo yelled.

“Who is this nigga over here? The tall black-ass nigga,” Reed said, pointing across the street at the group of men who were now surrounded by groupies and wannabe hustlers.

“That’s that nigga named Black, used to work for that nigga Kemp who got merked a couple of years back.”

“Oh, yeah? I remember that shit clearly. When this nigga get all flashy and shit? I remember this nigga riding Kemp’s coattail and shit,” Reed said, as he remembered exactly who he was. Prior to his release, he thought the name and description that Johnny gave sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until that moment when he could see his face that he realized exactly who he was. Thinking back, he’d even had a conversation or two with Black but he knew him by a different name. “Keyshawn or some shit like that,” he said aloud.

“What?” Romeo asked, confused as to what the hell Reed was talking about.

“That’s his real name, Keyshawn or some shit like that.”

“Yo, why are you so fascinated with this nigga, man? I’m hungrier than a hostage and you over here worrying about a motherfucka’s government. Don’t tell me the pen got you turning sweet on me, man.” Romeo laughed aloud.

“Man, fuck outta here. I’m far from sweet, nigga. I damn sure ain’t fascinated either—I just got some shit to take care of that involves him, that’s all,” Reed replied, still focused on Black and his entourage. He took mental notes, trying to get as much information as he could without it being obvious that he had a hidden agenda. After a few more seconds of glaring he shook his head, turned to open the driver-side door, and sat down inside.

“Now can we go eat? I feel like I’m losing pounds by the second over here, nigga.” Romeo laughed.

“Yeah, man.” He shut the car door, turned the key in the ignition, and drove off. At that moment, he had two things on his mind—getting more information on Black and getting back on top, where he belonged. He was positive that this time around he would remain on top by any means necessary.