A Gangster's Girl Read Free Page A

though.”
    I undressed slowly as Vegas watched my every move in the mirrors. I was precise with each movement as I lifted my shirt and pulled down my pants. As I tempted Vegas with my tantalizing striptease, I could tell by the way he was licking his lips that he was enjoying the show. My breasts popped out with ease as I unsnapped my front closure bra. Because of the way his eyes were dilating, I was certain that Vegas was quite pleased with my physique. Lastly, I slowly removed my butterfly thong and began to walk toward the Jacuzzi. I could see Vegas’ dick rise as I stepped into the water. Little did he know I was just as pleased as he was.

Chapter 3
    Girls’ Night Out
    The next morning, I was awakened by the shining of the sun through the crack in the hotel curtains. I glanced at the clock radio, which read seven o’clock. “Oh shit!” I jumped up shouting. “I’m gonna be late for work! God-damn it! Vegas, wake up! Wake your ass up!”
    He didn’t budge, but that was his problem. I was the one driving, and if he didn’t leave when I did, that was just too damn bad. I searched frantically for my clothes as he slept like a log. Not able to locate my panties, I grabbed his underwear and threw them on along with my pants and shirt. Shit, guys have been stealing my panties for years.
    Now, I know I was wrong for doing what I’m about to tell you, but I couldn’t resist. Since he was sleeping so soundly, and since I was already going to be late for work, I decided, Why not go through his pockets? A sistah’s gotta know what she’s dealing with, right?
    Like most of the thugs I’ve dealt with, Vegas didn’t carry a wallet. Therefore, I was able to locate his money rather quickly simply by digging deep. He had exactly thirty-five hundred dollars in one pocket and a little over a thousand in the other. As I continued my search, I came across a few phone numbers. One read Kim, then Steeze, and one was surrounded by little hearts and read Jalisa. I got a good laugh at that one as I ripped it up. I figured that he was pretty popular with the ladies from the way his pager was blowing up every five minutes the night before. It eventually got to the point where he had to turn it off. My biggest concern was that he might have been married. God, I hope not.
    Last but not least, I came across his ID, which listed his name as Laymont Jackson and Virginia Beach, Virginia, as his place of residence. Now that was strange. I thought he was from Norfolk. Still, none of that was as confusing as his date of birth, which read September 17, 1980. At first I didn’t pay it any mind, but then I realized he was younger than I was. That’s when I started to do the mathematics and counted the years in my head. One, two, three . . . ten, eleven, twelve . . . eighteen! Oh, my God, this nigga is only eighteen years old!
    Just then, Vegas started to stir, so I quickly replaced the card inside his pants pocket. Part of me wanted to confront him about his age while the other part just wanted to have a good time, which was exactly what he had shown me.
    â€œYo, why you up so early?” he grumbled.
    â€œBecause some of us have jobs,” I answered sarcastically. “I’m gonna be late for work. Now get up, Vegas.”
    â€œFuck that shit,” he responded very nonchalantly. “You wit’ me. Chill out. Lie back down and get some rest. We were up late last night.” He rolled over, trying to get comfortable.
    What doesn’t this nigga understand? I gotta get to work.
    â€œLook, Vegas, I’m the only dental hygienist at a very busy dental clinic. I can’t just stay home.” I was quite perturbed at his previous statement.
    â€œHow much do you make in a week, ma?” He asked, rolling back over and staring at me.
    â€œNot that it’s any of your business, but I bring home about a thousand dollars a week,” I snapped with attitude.