G-spot An Urban Erotic Tale by Noire

Chapter One I It was right around midnight and bodies were heating up at the G-Spot. I should have been at home studying for a chemistry test but instead I was sitting with my girl Brittany in a private booth at the most expensive gentleman's club in Harlem. "This place is the shit, Juicy." The music was loud and Brittany was dancing in her seat. "Your man is large," Brittany said. "Old as dirt, but large. If Cecil owned a fly joint like this instead of a detail shop, I'd be hanging lovely every night. I can't believe they charge a grand just to get in the door, but with all these rich-ass basketball players and rap artists up in here I guess cheddar ain't nothing but cheese." Saturday night was Ladies Night at the G-Spot Social Club. Although the lap dances and private parties catered to the men, one night a week sisters came out to drool over some of the sexiest brothers on the New York street scene. Brittany was steady running her mouth. She was in my finance class at Fordham University, and I had invited her down to the Spot because I liked having company. "Juice," she said, "this place is not only classy, but it's also hot! Thanks for getting me in for free, but damn, girl, when are the brothers coming out?" "Hold on," I told her. "The male strippers are coming up next." And that's when my trouble will really begin, I thought, crossing my legs. "Don't get me wrong," Brittany said. Dressed in a short white skirt and a silk halter, she was drinking double shots of Alize and had three lines of coke laid out on the table in front of her. "I mean, the girls are working it, but where are the men with the fine bodies? I want to see some hard asses and Mandingo backs. Maybe even get me some dill-zick, if they slinging any!" As soon as she said that I looked around for G and saw him walking up the stairs like he did every night at this time. G was a man of habit. I could put my money on it that every night at exactly midnight, he would disappear upstairs to check on his drug operation and make sure each nanogram of his powder was accounted for. The house rule was to get the men to spend every dime in their pockets, and every girl had to do her part. It was about getting them to buy drinks all night, pay for lap dances; and if they wanted to fuck, they paid for the sex and the room, too. And Brittany was right. Money wasn't a big thing for the drug dealers and playas, but I could see how it would turn her on. The dollars had my nose open at first too, but not anymore. These days chasing the thing that I wanted most could get me killed. It was like being addicted to candy and working in a chocolate factory where the product was off limits. Night after night I sat in the G-Spot, the biggest sex den in New York City, and watched others get what I needed. Let me just put it out there. I was a nineteen-year-old Harlem girl with a healthy appetite. But it wasn't sweets that I craved. And it wasn't drugs. It wasn't jewelry, and it wasn't Prada skirts or fur coats neither. All that stuff was at my fingertips, mine for the taking. I was miserable in spite of all the bling. Because even though I rolled with the richest man in Harlem, I couldn't get my g-spot hit. I was Granite McKay's woman, and I craved dick. I guess you could say G inherited me from my grandmother, who had been good friends with him and his mother. Even though he was twenty-seven years older than me, I had known him all my life. When I was a kid we lived on 136th Street in Harlem, and I used to run numbers for my grandmother. I could remember what everybody on the block pNoire is the author of 'G-spot An Urban Erotic Tale by Noire', published 2006 under ISBN 9780345486875 and ISBN 0345486870.