Jailbait

Jailbait

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

Eighteen-year-old Jacque has had a crush on Deon Saunders, Hip Hop Star and member of the Trio "Cray" forever! On her eighteenth birthday Deon gives her a present she can't forget. She wants more from where that came from. Deon is there for it. There's just one problem. He is her mother's boyfriend.

Summary

Eighteen-year-old Jacque has had a crush on Deon Saunders, Hip Hop Star and member of the Trio "Cray" forever! On her eighteenth birthday Deon gives her a present she can't forget. She wants more from where that came from. Deon is there for it. There's just one problem. He is her mother's boyfriend.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 1

Author Chapter Note

Thank you for the support and love. Please, keep on reading. It means the world to me. I am just a court jester for your majesties.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 15, 2018

Reads: 194

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 15, 2018

A A A

A A A

Jail Bait

Chapter 1

Jacqueline loved her mom for getting Cray, the best Hip-Hop trio in the business to perform at her eighteenth birthday party. Deon, Stephen and Cavin were currently ruling the charts and had been doing so for as long as she could remember. A Boston born and bred Hip Hop group of cousins, they’d taken America by storm and in Jacqueline’s opinion, they had the world at its feet.

 

They had it all.  They were handsome beyond reason, oozed of sex appeal and bad boy attitude to death and their songs were about love. They serenaded, worshipped and lavished females with tender loving care. They encouraged girls to flaunt their sexuality, own it, revel in it and give it.

 

It was amazing that these three, gorgeous, gangster looking males were about girl power, respect and celebration of the female body. Not for them these lyrics about gang banging, violence and death in the streets.

 

They acknowledged that, of course, because they rapped about black love and what was black love without the everyday realities? Black love was special. It powered through and over the terrible realities of life. It was the beacon of hope and light. There was nothing like it in the world. Often, Cray’s fans would wear t-shirts or caps or both with “Black Love” emblazoned all over to Cray concerts and Cray would always begin every show with paying homage to Black Love and then love in general.

 

Their lyrics were x rated sex itself! They went there! They literally popularized the female anatomy. Everyone knew what a clit was these days and where it could be found! The benefits of eating booty were lauded, along with the booty itself. They shared the intimate details of being in a cunt and described every little nuance of the wet, hot, silky, tight and oh so necessary channel a man died to bury himself in. In fact, according to Cray, that was man’s only purpose.

 

In an interview once, Cavin, twenty- five- years old, built like a brick and “the fighter” said he’d kill for pussy, because it was the only thing worth dying for. Wars, he insisted were fought over pussy, nothing else.

 

“Men want to own women owned by other men. They find an excuse to go to war. And suddenly nuclear bombs are ruling the skies,” he said.

 

Stephen, twenty-seven, with a body that rivaled that of Michael B. Jordan in the movie Black Panther and the “social activist,” of the group agreed with his cousin that man had to protect his pussy. It was the only thing worth anything.  Because it was right in there that a man died and was reborn.

 

Deon, twenty-six, slim, tall, unassuming and “the lover” of the group elaborated the point. He said the pussy was a man’s private garden. It was where man met God.

 

“That’s holy ground right there,” he said, to the approval of all women in the world. “It has to be treated with respect and reverence. Bow down to the pussy!”

 

When asked what they individually thought was the most important aspect of a relationship, very light skinned, with long dreadlocks that went to the middle of his back, Cavin immediately said respect. In his opinion, no relationship was worth shit if that aspect wasn’t upheld.

 

“Respeck is that compassion you have for each other as a couple. It is the umbrella from the rain,” he said.

 

Stephen, slightly darker than his very light skinned cousin Cavin and also sporting long dreadlocks that fell to the back in a messy riot, espoused love itself. For what was a relationship without that in the first place? He gave examples of relationships he’d been in where he didn’t love the female.

 

“Attraction dies man. It burns out and then you’re left with nothing. That sort of relationship is empty,” he moaned.

 

Deon, with his shoulder length dreadlocks said it had be fidelity. “I don’t have women in every port or city.  I have a girlfriend, right here in Boston and she represents every woman to me. I would never disrespect her by giving the love I give her to another female. Hell no. I know that’s some uncool shit with men, but I don’t give a fuck.”

 

And that was what made tall, on the slim side, dark skinned Deon the most popular member of the group.

 

Jacqueline knew all about Deon’s girlfriend. She was her thirty- nine -year old mom, Cassandra. Her mom and Deon had been a couple for two years. Her mom, former famous model who still walked runways upon request was a very successful real estate developer.

 

Deon was an investor looking for new and prime opportunities. A friend of her mom’s introduced them and they became inseparable. Deon practically lived in Jacqueline’s home, although he was not officially moved in.

 

She could remember the first time she met him. She was bounding down the stairs of their home when he walked through the door. He looked up and their eyes met. The crushing on him began then. She’d never seen such a gangsta looking handsome male in her life.  Behind what she thought was a messy hairstyle was a face sculpted by the gods. He had sexy eyes, fanned with long, sooty black eyelashes. His eyes were that dark chocolate liquid brown and they stood out against his smooth, silky, dark complexion. His straight nose and sensuous lips, were, to Jacqueline, overkill.

 

He was dressed all in black, jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. Diamond stud earrings glittered from both his earlobes and his right arm had bangles from the wrist to the elbow. His left arm was completely tattooed.

 

He held her gaze for as long as she held his. She was transfixed. And then her mom walked in behind him and reality bit her. Her mom was his perfect match. She was a beautiful bootylicious, size four no matter what she ate woman.

 

She kept her hair long and silky straight with a middle parting. Her straight aquiline nose was supported by an oval face with prominent cheekbones, beautiful, well shaped, lips and intense brown eyes.

 

As a model, she made coin day and night. As a real estate developer where she actually used her brains as she often told Jacqueline, Jackie to her mom and friends, she made millions. She worked hard and reveled in it.

 

Despite her long hours, Cassandra was, in Jackie’s opinion, a great mom to her and her eleven-year-old brother Simon. She was married twice, the first time to her white dad and then to Simon’s dad.  In between, her mom had lots of boyfriends and live in situations. These live-in situations found Jackie living in the Bahamas for three years and then Jamaica for a year. She was glad her mom gave up on men from the islands. She missed her grandma from her dad’s side whenever she was out of the country. She had an especially close bond with her. It was a good thing her mom had put her feelings into perspective when they finally settled in Cambridge. Her grandma was a short driving distance away.

 

Her grandma had in fact paid for this party over her mom’s objections.  She and her grandma had the best time organizing this “Everybody is a star” party. The theme had been grandma Bina’s idea. Grandma Bina was old Jewish money and held sway in her society with a vengeance.

 

Her grandma went about organizing Jackie’s birthday party the same way she’d organized her Bar Mitzvah at twelve years of age. There was no expense spared. For months, after school, Jackie and her grandmother would visit party planners and make some major decisions together. They were always in agreement, which made the whole thing fun and stress free.

 

After they were done with all the preparations for the actual party, down to the intricate party favors, grandma Bina lined up the best designers Boston had to offer. She threatened to take Jackie to France if they didn’t put something she approved of in front of her.

 

“You are my only granddaughter,” she said. “You deserve the best!”

 

Luckily, they found the perfect dress. They both squealed with glee when Denise Hajjar’s label designed a gown befitting of Gabrielle Union because that is who she intended to embody that night. It fit her five foot five and size ten frame exquisitely.

 

The satin peach dress, with criss cross lines at the back that not only left her back bare to the small of it but also her shoulders, fanned out in ballgown style.

 

“Perfect!” Grandma Bina approved happily. “The style shows off your wonderful figure that’s very womanly and the color suits your complexion.”

 

The complexion her grandma said fitted the color was almost the same as hers. No one believed Jackie had come from the womb of a black woman, especially one as dark as her mother. She was almost white, with light blue eyes to boot. Too bad she was almost blind and wore glasses. She preferred them to contacts. Her hair was naturally brown, silky and fell to her waistline. 

 

Grandma Bina, who also had blue eyes, albeit a much darker shade than her own, swore that Jackie was her when she was eighteen.

 

“Except that you inherited the perfect body from your black side. Round hips and big bottom are good for a woman, especially with such a small waist as yours. All the boys love that. You got my breasts. That was the only interesting thing about my body,” her grandma would say.

 

Jackie had indeed inherited her grandma’s breasts. She was a size C cup, which threatened to become a D, unlike her mom whose breasts were a definite A going on B cup.

 

Her thick lips definitely came from her African American side but she had no idea where the snub nose came from. None of her aunts and uncles on her mom’s side had snub noses.

 

She knew she wasn’t beautiful. She looked too white to be black and too black to be white. She wasn’t sure she was even pretty, despite the women in her life telling her she was. At least she wasn’t ugly, she consoled herself. She passed and with make-up, she held her own.

 

What she hated the most about herself was having to watch what she ate. Her mom had her on a constant diet.

 

“You have to be like your grandma Bina. She is naturally fat. You got those genes from her. But, she watches what she eats and that’s why she’s so trim. Good habits have to start when you are young. I would be a bad mom not to put you on a regiment,” her mom said.

 

 

Tonight, however, Jackie was serving the gods. She’d bleached her long, dark tresses to honey blonde. They fell on either side of her round face, loose instead of in the ponytail she always kept.

 

Her mom’s glam squad had made her beautiful. Her full lips were centre stage in her opinion. They’d gone for a nude color, knowing that she could do the rest with what nature had given her. Her eyes popped beneath the subtle eyeshadow because of the fake eyelashes. She’d traded in her glasses for the contact lenses she barely used.

 

Her round cheeks hinted at cheekbones and her nose was as straight as her mom’s because of the expert contouring. When she looked in the mirror, she sort of saw the resemblance between her and her mother. She liked that.

 

Her only jewelry were diamond earrings and a couple of diamond bracelets from grandma Bina. They were family heirlooms, gifted to her by grandma Bina for her birthday.

 

Her mom, because she’d been unable to pay for anything, had told Jackie that she had a big surprise for her. It turned out to be Cray.

 

And here she was, with more than a hundred of her schoolmates and friends from social clubs dancing wildly to their sensuous lyrics and upbeat rhythms. Her best friends, Hispanic Emily and fellow African American Jennifer were killing themselves next to her, right by the stage.

 

Her girls had turned up fierce. Jenn had gone for Jennifer Lopez and Emily, Halle Barry. Tonight, they were the most popular girls in the room. They had managed to leave everyone else in the dust. Everyone wanted to dance with them and be close to them. It felt good.

 

At school, they were the three nerds who spent more time doing books and sport. They were happy girls, safe and secure in their parent’s wealth. They had active social lives within their own circles.

 

Only Jenn had a boyfriend. She’d begun doing boys years before, when they were thirteen. That was because she was the most beautiful of the three of them. She was tall, slim, medium complected and boasted of a nicely rounded bottom. It suited her long, supple legs. She kept natural short hair in a dreadlock imitation style. She spent at least thirty minutes every day using the sponge that gave her hair that look. She modeled and had been on several covers and in shows. Sometimes she worked with Jackie’s mom. 

 

Jenn looked like the model she was in her straight white dress and beautiful jewelry.

 

Emily, Emi as they called her was slightly on the chubby side. At five foot three, she was the shortest of the three of them. She was also the natural beauty with bright brown eyes, long and curly black hair. Her face was a combination of three face shapes, square, heart and diamond-like Jennifer Lopez. She also had the Jennifer Lopez’ skin complexion.

 

Jackie’s mom always threatened that when Emi came into her own, she would be fire. For now, Emi, like herself, was studying hard to get into MIT.

 

Tonight, Emi had given the world a glimpse of what she would become with her vivid red dress and expertly made face.

 

Jackie held her friends’ hands and danced to Cray in abandon, thanking her mom for this very astronomical gift.

 

Cavin suddenly leaned down and extended his hand to her. She took it. He pulled her effortlessly up on stage in one fell swoop to the screaming happiness of all the teens in the party.

 

“Shake that booty mama,” Cavin urged. “It’s your birthday!”

 

Jackie got to twerking. She moved her ass against Cavin’s groin. She sank to the floor going with the length of this legs and then shimmied back up again. She bent at the knees, popped her booty and massaged his privates through his jeans with her butt cheeks. Everyone went wild. She knew why. They’d never seen this side of her before. This dance was for all them black girls who thought she was too white to do it right. They didn’t know she had black aunties and cousins who twerked with her. She was well practiced.

 

Jackie felt the sexual charge in the room go up the roof and she moved harder. She felt sexy, grown. She stuck her finger in her mouth, sucked it for drama and then slowly brought it out. That was too much for her audience. She laughed, fully immersing herself in the experience.

 

And then she felt it. A sexual charge like no other, one she was connecting to. She looked up from her squatting position and her eyes locked with Deon’s. She almost fell on her bottom because he was looking like he wanted to eat her.

 

Traitor that she was, she responded. Yes, she said. I want you to eat me. I’ve been wanting it since the day I met you.

 

She blinked furiously and steadied herself in order to finish her dance. Deon came over, gave her his hand. She took it. He pulled her to him and for a few seconds she was trapped by his beautiful eyes while her body felt the heat, muscle and tension of his. He walked her to the stairs and helped her off the stage.

 

She was in a daze. What the fuck had just happened? She didn’t get time to work it out because Jenn and Emily came screaming deliriously as they rushed towards her. She grasped their hands and they did a little jumping dance of euphoria that they’d been doing for years.

 

“That was fab!” Jenn screamed.

 

“You danced with Cray! You’re gonna be so popular on Monday,” Emi predicted.

 

“I know! I know!” Jackie agreed. She could see it, instant stardom. Her stock had just gone up. She’d danced better than Amber Rose. What a way to come out of her shell!

 

Her girlfriends dragged her to the dance floor in front of the stage again. They started to dance together again, but people crowded them. The boys wanted to dance with Jackie.

 

She did, wanting to banish that thing that had gone on with Deon. His eyes were still on her and she guiltily liked it. It made her feel things she’d not known existed within her. She was all hot and bothered. Her panties suddenly felt slightly damp to her, surprising the hell out of her. She was aroused. She knew it with a certainty. She’d spent many hours in her bedroom by herself trying to induce that state in herself. She’d plied her pussy with her fingers, digging in there until it hurt.

 

She’d massaged her breasts, rolled her thumbs on her nipples before once again going for her cunt. She’d even fantasized that she was having sex with Jayden Smith and nothing worked. There was no lubrication, no orgasm. And now, this.

 

She touched her lips delicately with the tips of her fingers. They were positively throbbing with need. She wanted to be kissed. Not just by anyone. She wanted Deon’s lips on hers.

 

She immediately recoiled from such a disgusting thought. What was wrong with her? She was dirty. Deon was her mother’s boyfriend. In a sense, he was sort of a stepfather, no matter what her daddy said. He liked to call Deon her mom’s first born.

 

Nevertheless, Deon belonged to her mom, whom he’d never cheat on. When he was at their house, he slept with her mom. His things were in her room. She also went to Deon’s in Downtown Boston a lot. They kissed in front of Jackie and Simon frequently, making Jackie wince and look away.

 

They were a touchy, touchy couple. They shared intimate breakfasts, midnight snacks and went away together often. Theirs, was a healthy, happy relationship.

 

She knew for a fact that Deon and her mom got it on this afternoon. When she called her mom from her grandma’s house about the make-up artist, her mom sounded sleepy, the way she did after she and Deon fucked. Jackie knew they were in bed.

 

She shouldn’t want him. It broke the codes of humanity. It was almost incestuous. She immediately resolved not to think about him. This was her party. She didn’t want it soiled with thoughts that ruined the world. She accepted the next boy who asked her to dance.

 

Cray played five songs. They closed their set by rapping a happy birthday song to Jackie. An assistant came down and presented Jackie with a massive bouquet of a mixture of flowers. The card read, “Happy birthday Princess – Cray.” It was magical. Cray left the stage and the teens resolved to keep on partying.

 

Jackie almost forgot about that whole sordid business, except, she was still somewhat disjointed internally. She decided to barricade herself in the bathroom for a minute to get her bearings. A need she didn’t want to identify was gnawing at her and growing. It made her hot, frustrated and deprived.

 

She sat on the toilet seat for as long as she could before she gave up. It wasn’t working and she owed it to her grandma to be the best hostess ever.

 

 She stumbled out of the bathroom only to hit into a solid wall. It was a large, strong male, dressed in dark clothes and with shades on.

 

He was a bodyguard. She knew that much. She stepped back, highly startled and looked up at him, starry-eyed.

 

“Deon wants to see you in the back,” the man said.

 

“Excuse me?” she stammered. She thought Cray had left a long time ago. What was he still doing here?

 

“He wants to see you. Come with me.”

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Madeleine Mitton. All rights reserved.

Chapters

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Madeleine Mitton

More Great Reading

Popular Tags