Wrapped Around Her Finger
(Mel’s Story)
Twenty years ago . . .
“Little girl, can you hear me? Everything’s okay now. I’m a cop, okay? Can you hear me? Do you know what happened? Who did this?”
The voice of the officer sounded so far away to Mel, as if it were coming from another world. It had to be another world because hers had been shattered. The twelve-year-old girl had just become an orphan. She sat shivering, even though it was a hot summer Brooklyn night. Shivering and covered in blood. Her flimsy cotton nightgown stuck to her because of the blood, sweat, and tears. The blood belonged to her parents’, but the sweat and tears were hers.
They had only been in America for a few months, having been forced to leave Jamaica. Her father, Thomas was a local organizer in the JLP-controlled Tivoli Garden Projects. The JLP, or Jamaican Labor Party, was one of the main two political parties on the island. In Jamaica, everything is connected to politics, even life or death. Already a very violent country, the murder rate soared every election night, so when the People National Party won the election, Mel’s father knew he was in danger. He and his family fled the island.
But escape wouldn’t be that easy . . .
Mel’s father, Thomas, was an enforcer in the JLP, one who knew too many secrets, one who couldn’t be allowed to live. They tracked him to Bed-Stuy to bring Jamaican-styled justice to America.
“Not in front of my family!” Thomas pleaded when they bum-rushed the small apartment.
“Stop yer blood clot cryin’!” one of the three masked men hissed as he brought his machete up and over his head.
Mel would never forget the way the blade glistened in the moonlight, just before the dread-headed monster hacked into the flesh of her father’ throat. The blade was so sharp, that one swing nearly decapitated him. Thomas’s body slumped to the floor as Mel’s mother grabbed her and covered her body with her own.
“I love you, Melanie,” her mother said, looking into her eyes right before the blade hacked away half her face.
Mel was too stunned to scream. The men hacked away viciously over and over, severing limbs and slicing flesh from bone. This was meant to be more than a murder, it was a message.
When they finished, the one room apartment was splattered with blood. The men, winded by their wicked work, looked down at the girl curled up in a puddle of her mother’s blood.
“Wha gwan do wi de pickaninny?” one of the men asked.
The tallest killer looked down at her, his head tilted slightly. He ran the tip of his bloody machete down her tender curves. Even at twelve, her blossom to come was very evident.
He put the blade under her cheek and turned her face to look at him. He looked into her eyes and couldn’t bring himself to kill such beauty.
“Jah bless, our work is done ‘eh,” he commanded, then turned for the door.
In her mind, she could still feel the cold steel of the machete, or what her father used to call the cutlass. For a few days it was all she could feel. She didn’t feel the ambulance worker pick her up, nor the movement of the ambulance as they transferred her to the hospital. It was three days before the world began to seep into her stupor.
One of the first things she heard was her social worker talking on her phone.
“Yes, I think that would be best. Miss Brooks runs an upstanding foster home, one where I think Mel will be well received with good Christian love.”
“Jah bless . . .” the social worker said, ending the call.
Mel, however, heard the voice of her father’s killer in her head.
Miss Brooks looked like Florida Evans from the TV show Good Times. Short and dumpy, with a graying tight afro and a warm, heartfelt smile punctuated with a gold tooth. As soon as she laid eyes on Mel, she wrapped her in a big motherly hug.
“Lord ha’ mercy child, how are you? What’s your name?” Miss Brooks asked, cradling Mel’s cheeks in her big, soft hands.
Mel just looked up at her shyly.
“Her name is Melanie Verley. Here’s her file. She’s been through a very traumatic experience,” her social worker explained.
Miss Brooks took the file, but said, “All I need to know is right here in these big brown eyes. Don’t worry, baby. The Lord will fix this,” she concluded, kissing Mel on the forehead.
The first few days, Mel kept to herself. Miss Brooks had four other girls. Amy, a brown-haired, scrawny white girl who was fifteen, Lisa, a fourteen-year-old black girl and two Spanish girls, Maria and Louisa, both fourteen. They were all nice to her, making her feel at home just like Big Mama, as they affectionately called her.
Until a month later on the night Mel drank the milk . . .
“You want some warm milk, baby?” Miss Brooks had asked Mel, because she was having nightmares.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mel answered.
“What I tell you ‘bout that ma’am stuff?” Miss Brooks scolded her gently.
“Yes . . . Big Mama.”
Miss Brooks smiled big and warm. “That’s better.” She set the cup in front of Mel and patted her cheek. “Drink up, sweetie.”
Mel did.
Oxytocin is a chemical released by the human body. It is usually associated with sexual bonding, affection . . . orgasms. Many try to use it as a date rape drug, but it’s not. Oxytocin cannot be used to create sexual bonds. It can only be used to enhance bonds already forming.
As Mel drank her milk, Miss Brooks stroked her long, silky ponytails. “I know you’ve been through a lot, child, but believe me, the Lord is gonna make it right,” Miss Brooks cooed.
“Yes, Big Mama,” Mel replied, feeling warm and toasty. She liked how Miss Brooks’ hand felt in her hair, then how it felt on her back. It was sooooo comforting.
She finished the oxytocin-laced milk. Miss Brooks took the cup. “Ready for bed?”
Mel nodded.
Miss Brooks beamed. “Okay. You can sleep with me. The Lord keeps away all those bad nightmares.”
When they got into Miss Brook’s queen-sized bed, she wrapped Mel up in a tight embrace and laid her head on her ample bosom. Miss Brooks stroked her back. “Such a beautiful girl . . . So lovely . . . So tender . . . yesss, the Lord is gonna take a good care of you.”
As she spoke, her caress went from comforting to sensual, teasing the back of Mel’s neck down to her hips and around to her small but pert breasts.
Mel had never been touched sexually before, but the oxytocin and Miss Brook’s subtle approach made it feel like a natural progression.
“That feel good, baby?”
“Ye–yes, Big Mama,” Mel cooed, her body tingling in ways that both scared and aroused her at the same time.
Miss Brooks had expert hands. She knew how to turn a young girl out because she herself had been turned out as a young girl. She knew just where to kiss, just where to lick, to make a young girl’s teeth chatter and get her pussy wet for the first time.
When Mel felt Miss Brook’s tongue in her pussy, she arched her back and pushed her head deep into the pillow. Many nights she had heard the sounds of moans and pleasure-filled screams coming from Miss Brook’s room, but she never knew what it was. Now she did, because she was the one moaning.
“Lawd chile, your pussy tastes sweeter than mangoes,” Miss Brooks remarked as she feasted on Mel’s clit.
“Ohhh, Big Mama,” Mel groaned, having her first orgasm all over Miss Brook’s mouth.
Miss Brooks reached under the bed and pulled out a long black dildo. Mel’s body tensed up when she saw it. Miss Brooks smiled.
“Don’t worry, baby, this won’t hurt. This . . . is the Lord and I told you, the Lord is gonna take real good care of you.”
She rubbed the rubber head against Mel’s clit, curling Mel’s toes. She spread Mel’s legs and slid the dildo inside of her. Mel’s breath caught in her throat. The dildo slid up easily inside her wet, virgin pussy. Mel cried out in ecstasy, her head thrashing from side to side.
“Take it out! Take it out! It’s too—” Mel begged, until the thin membrane within her popped and sent her over the edge from a girl to a woman.
Now, each long stroke created a rhythm that Mel’s body couldn’t help but dance to.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Mmm . . . mmmm,” Mel moaned, meeting each thrust with one of her own.
“Yeah, baby, you a good one. You gonna make Big Mama a lot of money, ain’t you?” Miss Brooks sang.
“Yesssssss,” Mel replied, as her body convulsed and release her young nectar.
It would be the first of many, but to Mel’s immature mind, one time was too much and a million times is never enough.
After that night, Mel would never see the world the same again. She looked at her house mates different as well. They became her rivals for Miss Brooks’ affection, especially Maria. She was by far the most beautiful. Mel was a knockout too, but she would never get over Maria’s soft caramel complexion and long. wavy hair.
She despised Maria.
“I’ll get it, Big Mama,” Mel offered one day as they traversed the aisles of a local grocery store.
She and Maria had gone with her to help her shop. Mel skipped off to get Miss Brooks the pork chops she requested, but while she was in the next section, she saw some fish. Mel loved fish. She grabbed the pack and skipped back to the cart.
“Big Mama, can we get this, too? I love fish,” Mel pleaded.
Miss Brooks smiled indulgently, but replied, “I’m sorry, baby, but Maria is allergic to seafood.”
“Well, she don’t have to eat it,” Mel pouted.
“No, baby, put it back. I’ll get you something else.”
Maria’s smile said, ‘I’m more important’ to Mel’s immature, jealous mind. Miss Brooks knew the rivalry between Mel and Maria, so she used it to her advantage. Especially since it was time to put Mel to work.
“Lord ha’ mercy, I just don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Miss Brooks said two days later, while reclining on her bed reading the mail. Mel sat at the other end watching TV.
“What’s wrong, Big Mama?” Mel asked, looking over her shoulder. Miss Brooks shook her head.
“It’s them people. They cut in the money I get to keep all you girls. With what I’ma be gettin’, I’m not gonna be able to keep everybody . . . and since you are the last . . .”
Before she had finished her statement, Mel leapt from her end of the bed to Miss Brook’s lap, tears already streaming down her face.
“Please, Big Mama, don’t send me away! Please, where I’m gonna go? I love you!” She wrapped her scrawny little arms around Miss Brook’s neck.
Miss Brooks smiled to herself. She had used the tactic on countless girls, and it hadn’t failed yet. From loving mother to lesbian lover, she was ready to become the cold-blooded pimp she truly was.
“I just don’t see how—”
“I–I’ll work. I’ll get a job!” Mel offered.
Miss Brooks chuckled. “Baby, you’re too young to work. But maybe . . . No, no, it’s too much,” Miss Brooks mused, toying with Mel’s mind.
“No, no! I’ll do it, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything, just don’t send me away,” Mel sobbed.
“It’s a job for a big girl. No, maybe I’ll get Maria . . .”
Mel’s eyes glazed over with sheer hate.
“No!” she seethed, “I said I’ll do it!”
Hook, line, and sinker, Miss Brooks thought with smile full of mischief. She then kissed Mel on the forehead.
“I’ll make the call.”
*****
“Don’t be scared, Melanie. I’m not going to hurt you. I like you.”
Mel didn’t say anything. She stared at the small, white, scrawny and shriveled man. His hairline was receding, and he looked like a school teacher. He was a school teacher, and he fantasized about the little girls in his fifth grade class, so Mel was perfect. She was truly a dream come true.
They occupied a room in the rundown Bristol Hotel in Queens. Large roaches roamed the stained walls in room 515 without fear. They made Mel’s skin crawl, but the feeling of his clammy hands touching her was worse.
“Did you do your homework?” he asked with a quiver in his voice.
“What!” she answered, aggravation in hers.
“Your homework . . . play along,” he told her.
She remembered why she was there. Big Mama.
“What do you want me to say?”
“No.”
“No,” she repeated.
He leered. “Then you must be punished. Take off your clothes.”
She did as she was told. When she was totally naked, he shivered with delight. “My God, you are beautiful. Yes, you must be punished badly.” He took her by the arm and laid her across his lap, then slapped her hard on the ass.
“Owwwww!” she cried out in pain.
His dick boned instantly. He spanked her again and she cried out louder. After several slaps, he came in his pants.
“Lie on the bed and bend over,” he ordered her, and she did.
He pulled out a Polaroid camera and took picture after picture. When he finished, he handed her two hundred dollars.
“Get dressed.”
Just like that, her life as a prostitute began. For the next four years, she learned all she needed to know about the nature of a man. She learned to control a man’s mind through his genitals, she learned her beauty was her most potent weapon, and she learned money was her only love.
Quickly she became Miss Brook’s top earner. Mel saw girls come and go. The only one who remained was Maria. No matter what, she couldn’t take her place with Miss Brooks. So instead, she stopped trying and decided to remove her once and for all. It would all be over the following day.
“Don’t worry, Tricia, I’ll cook that spaghetti for you,” Mel offered with a surprising smile around dinnertime.
Tricia was the new girl, a fifteen-year-old Greek, who was eager to please. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“No really . . . let me. Don’t tell Big Mama I told you, but she doesn’t really like your cooking. She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Mel lied.
Tricia was crushed. She liked Miss Brooks. She didn’t want to disappoint her.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll fix it and you can say you cooked it. Deal?” Mel offered.
“Deal.” Tricia giggled, then left the kitchen.
As soon as she was gone, Mel pulled out the plastic bag from her pocket, ground up salt fish and quickly stirred it up and dumped it in the pot of spaghetti.
That night, when Maria sat down to eat, she got the surprise of her life. “Tricia, this spaghetti is deli—” she started to say, until she felt a strange tickle in her throat. Suddenly she felt light-headed, and she had the overwhelming urge to cough. But when she did, nothing came out. Her airway began to constrict as her neck began to swell.
“Oh my God! Maria, are you okay?” Tricia cried when she saw her face turning blue.
Mel jumped up. “She’s choking!” she exclaimed, knowing that Maria wasn’t. She grabbed her as if to give her the Heimlich maneuver, but in her mind, really trying to buy time to let the fish do its work.
“She ain’t chokin’! It’s an allergic reaction,” Miss Brooks barked as she rushed into the kitchen.
She heard Tricia cry out Maria’s name and came running. Quickly she called 911, and after forcing milk down Maria’s throat, got her stabilized enough to survive until EMS arrived. Miss Brooks hadn’t been fooled. She knew exactly what had happened.
“Mel . . . you have to go,” Miss Brooks told her three days later when she called her into her room.
“Big Mama, why?” Mel cried.
Miss Brooks sat stone-faced and unmoved by her tears. “Bitch, you know damn well why,” she hissed. “I run a respectable establishment, and I damn sure don’t need no goddamn bodies droppin’ ‘round here.”
“No, Big Mama, please. I won’t do it again!” Mel sobbed, throwing herself around Miss Brook’s ample waist.
Miss Brooks hugged her back, but replied, “Girl, I love you. Lawd knows I do. But you dangerous. You can’t be trusted. Ain’t nothin’ you won’t do to get what you want.”
Mel looked at her, the tears still wet but her gaze was cold. “Ain’t that what you taught me?”
“No baby, it was already there.” Miss Brooks shook her head. “I just brought it out. Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. You just can’t be here no mo’. Now pack your shit. I want you gone by the morning.” With that, Miss Brooks turned and walked away.
For four years of service, Miss Brooks gave her five hundred dollars and a suitcase full of clothes. From that experience, Mel learned to always control the money.
In the next two months, Mel was raped several times as she tried to sell her body, but she only knew how to be a whore, not a pimp. She sat in the Chinese restaurant one night waiting for her order. Thoughts of suicide clouded her mind. Inside, she was torn apart. Missing Big Mama, hating Big Mama, needing Big Mama’s guidance. But on the outside, she was a bad bitch waiting to happen.
That’s what Santiago saw.
From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he had to make her his. The moment she laid eyes on him, she knew she’d have him wrapped around her finger.