Red had been with Dougie since she was eleven. She loved the fact that he was always on his grind; it drew her to him. Dougie had always been a go-getter, but he was ravenously jealous of Zaire and the lot of them in the Jones family. He ran a small crew out in Staten Island's Stapleton Houses. They were slick with theirs, coming in and out like wind had earned them the moniker of "the unholy ghosts" as their presence filled stapleton with dread and drugs. They were a quiet bunch, and if you happened to bear witness to any of their mischief it was the last thing you'd see.
Seventeen years had elapsed. Red was 28 now and Dougie had just turned 35. Seventeen years had filled Dougie with a false sense of protection. He had become a millionaire off the fiends in Stapleton, he could practically taste the cream in St. George. He had his eye on a spot he wanted to buy for himself, Red and their future children. It was now or never he'd told himself. It was time to make that move on St. George.
It took all of nine weeks. In those next 9 weeks, the "Unholy Ghosts" executed an almost seamless take over of St. George. Not only had the put a squeeze on the street pharmacuticals, but they had adopted the practices of the Mafia, having businesses pay for the protection of the elite group. The perfect seams came apart when Daryl Jones was killed.
Daryl Jones hadn't figured out yet how to stop the unholy ghosts that had infiltrated his region. He was afraid to tell his uncle Zaire about the drawback in his sect. He'd been replacing the lost revenue with his own money he'd squirreled away when money was plentiful.
He was in Martini Red on Van Duzer Street when a well dressed young man walked in, flanked by his two associates. He moved quietly through the patrons and into a booth with a birds eye view of the lounge. Daryl was uneasy. He thought he'd know everyone that frequented Martini Red. Who was this cat?
Dougie knew he'd caught Daryl's attention. His attention set firmly on the decoy, Dougie pulled the trigger pointed at Daryl's head. There would be no other force.
His last thought before the bullet pierced his cranium was "Uncle Zaire's gonna kill me." The boy who would be a hustler would die, long before Zaire found the truth. Word spread like wildfire. Zaire who was well aware of Dougies activity had under estimated the young dealer. He knew of his activity in Stapleton, but figured even the young dudes had to eat. Now he'd have to squeeze them at the throat.
Three months later, Dougie's business had quadrupled. He began to party too hard...just as Zaire knew he would. May was Dougie's birthday. He always did his birthday big; the lounge was full of food, open bar and plenty of women. Red was tired of being put to the side for these nothing muffins. She'd had her fill.
"I wanna go home Dougie." Dougie looked at his lady and knew she was pissed off. He felt a tinge of guilt leaving her in VIP while he entertained endless woman who fought to get a moment of his attention. but not enough to stop her. He called his cousin and most trusted employee Rollin around to drive Red home.
The black tinted stretch BMW pulled into the parking lot. The partiction was up and her glass of plum wine sat next to the ice bucket. She slipped into the soft leather and nursed her drink. With every sip she drifted off into the glory of enebreation.
Once at the house, she had passed out in the back seat, having drunk the entired bottle. She felt herself being lifted from the back seat. She had no idea that it wasn't Rollin carrying her or that he lay dead in the front seat. All she knew was how good the arms felt and how much she missed being carressed this way.
Her chaperon lay her in the California-King bed and began arousing her, alternated between her clit and her nipples.
Red knew it wasn't Dougie, but her body had long since left her control. She exploded as he entered her from behind. He rode her like a thoroughbred hitting her g spot and stroking her clit. For the first time in her life she experienced a true orgasm...in multiples.
Laying in a pool of sweat and their love making, Red was still having aftershocks of the orgasms she'd just had.
"Tell your husband, I've just begun." Red froze. She knew the voice. She knew the fear the immediately sobered her up. It was Zaire. He'd just impregnated her with their son, Percy.
