Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 5- Jaleesa

Morris High School's prom is whack as hell.

To get away from the lame bullshit that's happening on the crowded gym floor, I let Drey Faniel's fake balling ass talk me into sneaking up into the boys' locker room. I don't know why he couldn't come correct like the other niggas at the prom and spring for a muthafuckin' hotel room.

Then again, it's probably because he spends all his corner money on sneakers. Sneakers. Not bling or a tricked-out ride, but fucking sneakers. He has so many of those muthafuckas I doubt that I've seen his ass in the same pair twice. It's all right, I guess. Drey is all right.

He ain't necessarily fine, but he ain't going to scare nothing out of the dark either. He got a nice, even caramel color and eyes the color of Milk Duds. Nothing special. Underneath his tuxedo, I know he got a few tats. Most he got after a couple months in juvie-a couple of six-pointed stars and a few pitchforks repping theVice Disciples. At least I'm not in this piece with someone who's busted like my girl Yolanda's man, Pookie. That guy complexion is the color of crude oil, and he has eyes and teeth the color of butter. Despite being ugly as sin, there are plenty of girls throwing panties his way because his hustle is tight and he loves raining money on bitches on the regular.

On the flip side, my girl Brielle and Dice rocked the house. Hands down, they were the flyest couple up in here tonight. And the boldest. These weak niggas who rolled through were mad eyeballing the back of their heads.Cartel Lords and Vice Disciples don't fucking mix in this city. But I can't tell my girl nothing. Hell, I think Brielle's ass is crazy, yet at the same time, I admire her, too. If you don't stand for something, then you'll fall for anything, right? Shit. I can testify to that shit. That's why my ass has been in and out of juvie since I learned how to spell the muthafucka. It's not because I'm bad but because I'm a part of the Queen Gs' family, and you don't pay a membership fee to get in. You got to prove your ass is down for whatever, whenever. No questions asked. We're the Vice Disciples' ride-or-die chicks. Period.

In the course of keeping it real, I don't mind it so much. Family is important. My momma and daddy are both locked up, so me and my brothers and sisters are being raised by my grandma near Shotgun Row. We're all VD, and up until now, I've been proud of it. The fact that Dice and his people are Cartel Lords complicates the fact that Brielle's sister is the head bitch in charge of the Queen Gs. Street politics clearly states that what's going on can't stand. I might not agree with my girl Brielle dating a grimy Cartel, but at least Dice's ass was willing to come out the pocket and get them a nice room at the Peabody.

Instead, I'm with this broke muthafucka who got my ass up against this cold-ass locker with my red dress up around my waist and my panties jacked to the side.

"Hold up. Give me a sec." Drey pants as his softening dick slips and slides around my pussy.

"Is this it?" he asks, jamming his dick against my clit.

"Nah, nigga." I pop him on the shoulder.

We've been at this shit for twenty minutes. My shit is drying up. My buzz is halfway gone, and I'm starting to get the munchies. He's going to have to roll my ass through somebody's drive-through before he takes me home.

"Ain't you done this shit before? Can't you tell that ain't a muthafuckin' hole?" I ask.

"Shit. Hold on." Drey fumbles around some more.

"I'm going to get this shit. You know my ass is high as fuck-and it's dark in this muthafucka, too. Sheeiiit." He rams his shit forward, and a surge of pain has my ass jumping higher up on these hard-ass lockers.

"Oww." I slap him on the back of his head.

"That's the wrong damn hole, you dumbass." Tired of the shit, I shove him away and pull my panties back in place.