I vaguely remember, not her words but her excitement when we were alone. I have tried through the years to remember her face but all I can remember is the funky ritual. Strangely, she had a reputation in Indianapolis, Indiana as a devout Holy Roller. Mama worked long hours in a hand laundry and Maude had been hired as a babysitter at fifty cents a day. Mama told me about it, and always when she did her rage and indignation would be as strong and as emotional perhaps as at the time when she had surprised her, panting and moaning at the point of orgasm with my tiny head wedged between her ebony thighs, her massive hands viselike around my head. Her name was Maude and she Georgied me around 1921. Most of all I wish to become a decent example for my children and for that wonderful woman in the grave, my mother. Perhaps one day I can win respect as a constructive human being. Perhaps my remorse for my ghastly life will diminish to the degree that within this one book I have been allowed to purge myself. Unfortunately, it would require the combined pages of a half-dozen books. I regret that it is impossible to recount to you all of my experiences as a pimp. The account of my brutality and cunning as a pimp will fill many of you with revulsion, however, if one intelligent, valuable young man or woman can be saved from the destructive slime then the displeasure I have given will have been outweighed by that individual’s use of his potential in a socially constructive manner. I will lay bare my life and thoughts as a pimp.
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Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit by John E.In this book I will take you, the reader, with me into the secret inner world of the pimp. Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell(10911) The Great Music City by Andrea Baker(16139)īombshells: Glamour Girls of a Lifetime by Sullivan Steve(12722)Īll the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda(12008) We're Going to Need More Wine by Gabrielle Union(17539) Popular ebooks Life for Me Ain't Been No Crystal Stair by Susan Sheehan(34903)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 1 by Fanny Burney(30876)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 3 by Fanny Burney(30576)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 2 by Fanny Burney(30554) She said, “Nigger, you ain’t heard of me? I’m Red Cora” from Detroit. I said, “I don’t show my swipe to strange bitches.
She said, “Let me see that pretty dick, handsome.” I wondered if he thought I oughta slug her in the jib and maybe take that shiv in the gut. Her gray eyes were whirling in her skull. I caught the glint of a pearl-handled switch-blade in her bosom. It was a livid gully from her cheekbone to the corner of her twisted mouth. She had a shiv slash on the right side of her face. The inside of her gaping cat was beef-steak red.
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They clustered around Patch Eye at the bar. They started rising from the satin pillows and velour ottomans. You got the go sign to croak yourselves.” Patch Eye’s got outfits and bags of poison. Sweet said, “All right you freakish pigs. “Gloomy Sunday,” the suicide’s favorite, dirged through the room. A high-ass yellow broad flicked life back into the phonograph. I wondered what madness bubbled in his skull as he stared at her. Sweet said, “Well how did you silly bastards like the fight? Did the Nigger murder that peckerwood or did his black ass turn shit yellow?”Ī Southern white whore with a wide face and a sultry voice like Bankhead’s drawled, “Mistah Jones, Ahm happy to repoat thet the Niggah run the white stud back intu his mammy’s ass in thu fust round.”Įverybody laughed except Sweet. It was like the couch was a stage, and Sweet the star. Everybody was in a big half-circle around the couch.
I saw Patch Eye go and sit behind the bar. I sat on a satin pillow in the corner near the glass door. Sweet, Top, and Peaches sat on the couch. They thumped their rear ends to the carpet. The three pimps sitting on it scattered off it like quail under a double-barreled shotgun. Peaches stood before the white velour couch and bared her fangs. He looked like a vulture decked out in a gray mohair vine. An old black stud wearing a white silk patch over his right eye trailed behind them. He looked toward the hand-painted Chinese screen.Īll eyes turned to Top and Sweet coming into the room. They roared and begged him to do it again. It was the first time for the crowd, too. I hope they fall through their own ass-holes and break their mother-fucking necks.” I hope all square bitches become syphilitic wrecks. They got green puke between their rotten toes and snot runs from their funky noses. I’d suck a thousand clappy pricks and swim through liquid shit.
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