Read Online Sex, Secrets and South Beach by Méta Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Méta Smith
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Desiree loved the feel of all eyes on her and all the
attention she was commanding. They staggered to their room shortly
after 2 a.m., and passed out from too much food and too much
drink.
Desiree awoke from her semi-coma to
the sound of insistent pounding in her head. Coming to her senses,
she realized the pounding was the housekeeper banging on the door.
Before she could respond, a heavyset cleaning woman entered and
began tidying up the room. She rustled and bustled and dusted, then
stood in between the room's double beds.
"Uh, as you can see, we're still
sleeping. No thank you." Ginger spoke without opening her eyes. The
woman rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth at them.
"Motherscunt," she muttered through
her gritted teeth. Ginger sat straight up in the bed and threw back
the covers.
"Did you call me a motherscunt? Well,
did you?" Ginger's eyes flashed with anger.
"Good night," the maid answered, as
was traditional in St. Thomas no matter what time of the day, and
then dragged her bloated body out of their room, making sure to
take as long as she wanted.
"You backwards bitch! It's daytime!
Say good morning! I swear y'all are so country! I hate this fucking
hotel! Y'all always want to start shit. That's okay, though, y'all
won't be getting a penny of my money. Motherscunt!" she spat at the
woman's flabby backside.
"Yo! What the fuck was that all about?
What the hell is a mother skunk or whatever the fuck y'all were
saying?" Desiree asked Ginger.
"Motherscunt means your
mother’s cunt. It’s a major insult. Basically, that bitch called us
a cross between a motherfucker and a cunt. That's their worst
insult. It's some old island shit," Ginger fumed. "I'm telling you
every time I come to St. Thomas some bitch got to throw shade. It
ain't my fault these bitches are fat and ugly. Some of the pretty
ones be okay. But those fat, old, ugly hos are the worst! They wish
somebody would pay to see them naked. Shit, it's more like somebody
would pay them to put their clothes on. I keep telling Red, don't put me in the
Windward Passage, but he always, always does!"
"What you wanna do?" Desiree
asked.
"Let me call Red. He gonna
pay for tonight and tomorrow somewhere else, and it better not be
somewhere fucked-up. He needs to put us in an apartment!" Ginger yanked the
phone off its cradle and began to dial.
"What the fuck?" She paused, listening
to the voice on the other end. "You need to connect me to my number
right now. Excuse me? Oh hell no! Y'all are trippin'... you know
what, fuck you!"
Desiree danced around in front of
Ginger, trying to find out what had gone down. Ginger pulled the
phone out of the jack and threw it across the room. "Fuck these
motherfuckers!"
"Yo, Ginger! Hello?! What just
happened here?" Desiree grabbed Ginger, who was pacing angrily back
and forth.
"These motherfuckers wouldn't connect
my call. They said they had a code of conduct in this
establishment, and I do use the word 'establishment' lightly, and
that we broke it. They told me that we needed to vacate the
premises immediately."
"What did we do?" Desiree's mouth was
agape. What the hell had Ginger gotten her into?
"We ain't do shit! Come on and pack
your bag. We're outta this shithole."
They dressed quickly and brushed their
teeth. Desiree looked around the room to make sure they hadn't left
anything behind before they stormed out. Desiree was grateful her
suitcase had wheels, because Ginger walked full speed ahead. She
marched to the desk and threw the key at the clerk.
"Shove this key up your ass. Fucking
hater!" she spat. Her wide-bodied bag knocked over an end table and
a display shelf filled with brochures.
"Oops," she sneered, then tossed her
hair and left the building.
"What we gonna do now?" Desiree
asked.
"Don't worry. I'm a call Derek and
Fuzzy."
"Who?"
"Derek and Fuzzy, the brothers I was
telling you about."
"Please tell me you're hooking me up
with Derek," Desiree remarked.
"Nope, Fuzzy is all yours."
"What kind of
attention she was commanding. They staggered to their room shortly
after 2 a.m., and passed out from too much food and too much
drink.
Desiree awoke from her semi-coma to
the sound of insistent pounding in her head. Coming to her senses,
she realized the pounding was the housekeeper banging on the door.
Before she could respond, a heavyset cleaning woman entered and
began tidying up the room. She rustled and bustled and dusted, then
stood in between the room's double beds.
"Uh, as you can see, we're still
sleeping. No thank you." Ginger spoke without opening her eyes. The
woman rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth at them.
"Motherscunt," she muttered through
her gritted teeth. Ginger sat straight up in the bed and threw back
the covers.
"Did you call me a motherscunt? Well,
did you?" Ginger's eyes flashed with anger.
"Good night," the maid answered, as
was traditional in St. Thomas no matter what time of the day, and
then dragged her bloated body out of their room, making sure to
take as long as she wanted.
"You backwards bitch! It's daytime!
Say good morning! I swear y'all are so country! I hate this fucking
hotel! Y'all always want to start shit. That's okay, though, y'all
won't be getting a penny of my money. Motherscunt!" she spat at the
woman's flabby backside.
"Yo! What the fuck was that all about?
What the hell is a mother skunk or whatever the fuck y'all were
saying?" Desiree asked Ginger.
"Motherscunt means your
mother’s cunt. It’s a major insult. Basically, that bitch called us
a cross between a motherfucker and a cunt. That's their worst
insult. It's some old island shit," Ginger fumed. "I'm telling you
every time I come to St. Thomas some bitch got to throw shade. It
ain't my fault these bitches are fat and ugly. Some of the pretty
ones be okay. But those fat, old, ugly hos are the worst! They wish
somebody would pay to see them naked. Shit, it's more like somebody
would pay them to put their clothes on. I keep telling Red, don't put me in the
Windward Passage, but he always, always does!"
"What you wanna do?" Desiree
asked.
"Let me call Red. He gonna
pay for tonight and tomorrow somewhere else, and it better not be
somewhere fucked-up. He needs to put us in an apartment!" Ginger yanked the
phone off its cradle and began to dial.
"What the fuck?" She paused, listening
to the voice on the other end. "You need to connect me to my number
right now. Excuse me? Oh hell no! Y'all are trippin'... you know
what, fuck you!"
Desiree danced around in front of
Ginger, trying to find out what had gone down. Ginger pulled the
phone out of the jack and threw it across the room. "Fuck these
motherfuckers!"
"Yo, Ginger! Hello?! What just
happened here?" Desiree grabbed Ginger, who was pacing angrily back
and forth.
"These motherfuckers wouldn't connect
my call. They said they had a code of conduct in this
establishment, and I do use the word 'establishment' lightly, and
that we broke it. They told me that we needed to vacate the
premises immediately."
"What did we do?" Desiree's mouth was
agape. What the hell had Ginger gotten her into?
"We ain't do shit! Come on and pack
your bag. We're outta this shithole."
They dressed quickly and brushed their
teeth. Desiree looked around the room to make sure they hadn't left
anything behind before they stormed out. Desiree was grateful her
suitcase had wheels, because Ginger walked full speed ahead. She
marched to the desk and threw the key at the clerk.
"Shove this key up your ass. Fucking
hater!" she spat. Her wide-bodied bag knocked over an end table and
a display shelf filled with brochures.
"Oops," she sneered, then tossed her
hair and left the building.
"What we gonna do now?" Desiree
asked.
"Don't worry. I'm a call Derek and
Fuzzy."
"Who?"
"Derek and Fuzzy, the brothers I was
telling you about."
"Please tell me you're hooking me up
with Derek," Desiree remarked.
"Nope, Fuzzy is all yours."
"What kind of
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