The Punany Experience Page 3

  Korea found a package in her gym locker with a note attached. “Baby, I bought you something. Please put on only what is inside this package and meet me on the corner behind the gym after school. I love you. P.S., make sure you don’t wear anything but what is in the package.”

  It was an old trick he hadn’t used in years, but it was failure proof, Keith thought, as he waited with his Mustang idling behind the high school. For a fleeting moment, he thought he might be tricking himself when he saw her strutting toward his car in the red silk wraparound dress and elegant Evan Picone pumps he had given her. Half an hour later, Korea lay on a hotel bed, spread-eagle, with her full pussy exposed to his razor’s edge. He had shaved her, then sucked, kissed, and licked inside her bald pussy until she had moaned for him, for the very first time. But right when Korea was getting into it, rolling her hips and fucking his lips and tongue, Keith had grown excited. He had pulled his face from between her legs and climbed on top of her. Before long, he was spilling his hot milk on her clean-shaven skin.

  Korea couldn’t stop thinking about the sweet sensation of having a tongue on her pussy. Every night, she was touching herself and searching for the spots that got her the hottest. But after three days, when her hair began to grow back, her desire to touch herself became an intense need to scratch, as hair bumps began to form, leaving tiny pus-filled blisters. The skin of her pussy became inflamed and hot to the touch in the next days and she could not scratch enough to soothe the powerful itch.

  “Aw, baby,” Keith said into the phone. “That happens sometimes. Your skin has to get a little tougher. It’ll heal in a few days.”

  “It better,” Korea said, calming down a bit, as she pressed a warm wet towel against her punany.

  “You’ve been thinking about me licking on you, huh?” Keith said, in a sexy voice.

  “No.”

  “I’ll bet you have. I’ll bet you’ve been touching yourself, and thinking of my tongue inside you.”

  “Yeah. That was good. That was real good,” the girl admitted finally. “But I’m not trying to have a tough pussy; I want a pretty pussy. So, you won’t be shaving me again. I hope you understand that.”

  Keith ignored her command. “You want me to come over?”

  “No, my mom will be back in a minute.”

  “I could come later, when she’s sleeping. You know, hang around your window, like last time.”

  “Now see, that’s what I get for giving you a bullshit answer. I’m over here with a disco inferno blazing between my legs and all you can say is that you want to get a blowjob at my bedroom window? Yeah, that’s really going to happen. Keith, please hang up now, so I don’t have to disrespect you and hang up in your face. I can’t be getting angry at senior citizens like that.”

  “Aw, no you didn’t call me a senior citizen!” Keith laughed into the phone. “All right then, young lady. Take it easy though. The bumps are going to go away. Maybe you could throw a perm on it when the hair comes back.”

  Korea searched for a quick comeback to stick him with, but all she came up with was a dial tone. Keith was right, though. After almost two weeks, Korea’s hair was coming back nicely and there was only a cluster of small itchy bumps left, near her vaginal opening.

  “It could be an STD, huh?” she asked the doctor, shyly. This was her first pelvic exam and pap smear. She lay on the examination table with her legs wide open and her feet lodged in stirrups.

  “It could be,” the milky-skinned blonde woman said as she slipped her long narrow hands into two rubber gloves. “Then again, it could be nothing. Why don’t we wait and see what it is?” The woman smiled so warmly at her young patient, Korea felt it.

  This doctor is pretty, she thought. No, she is beautiful. To Korea, she looked more like a model than someone who would be working at the local free clinic. Her eyes were such a pale blue, they were almost translucent. Her cheekbones were high and well-defined and her small, pouty lips looked like somebody had drawn them on her face with a calligraphy pen.

  Korea was lost in these thoughts when the pretty doctor nudged her knee a bit to get her to open her legs wider.

  “Relax,” she said. “This won’t hurt. I’m going to…”

  As Doctor Model went on to describe the next steps she would take, Korea could feel a warming sensation running completely through her body as two well-lubricated gloved fingers reached inside of her. With her other hand, the doctor pressed around on her stomach, leaning forward just enough so that Korea caught the scent of her cotton candy breath, flooding her belly with butterflies. At first, Korea thought she had to pee. As the doctor reached her fingers deep down inside of her, tapping and searching around for “lumps, bumps or anything unusual,” Korea felt something she had never felt before; a strong increasing urge to bear down and squeeze.

  “Wait,” she said, grabbing a fist full of the plastic pad underneath her. “I…” Korea tried to warn the woman of the impending flood, but suddenly her entire body seemed to sneeze.

  “Whoa, young lady…,” the doctor said. “That was a first,” she said, taking her fingers out of the patient so quickly, Korea had an aftershock of tiny jolts and quivers.

  “I’m sorry,” Korea said. Her heart was pounding inside her chest; it’s rhythm spreading through her veins, clear down to the little button she had been pushing on all those nights since Keith had licked her there. She lay on a soaked pad, hiding behind the hand over her face.

  Korea decided, in that very moment, that she might never need a dick, or a man, again. Keith’s dick had never made her feel this way; whatever this way was. She wanted to feel it over and over again. She wanted to feel it forever. And if it only existed in the fingertips of a beautiful woman with cotton candy breath, so be it. She was going to make a way to leave Keith immediately.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll have it all under control before you know it,” Doctor Model said, peeling the gloves off of her hands and dropping them into the trashcan. She handed a clean, dry, blue plastic and cotton pad to Korea.

  “Was that what I think it was?” Korea asked her.

  “I’m pretty sure,” the doctor replied over her shoulder as she washed her hands and forearms in the sink. “Okay, let me start the exam over.” She walked back over to the table and slipped her hands into a new pair of gloves.

  “Thanks,” Korea said. Then, realizing that it may have sounded like she was thanking the woman for making her climax on the table, she corrected herself. “I mean, thank you for not making me feel embarrassed.”

  “Of course,” she said and exhaled.

  There’s that cotton candy again, Korea thought as she closed her eyes.

  “Okay,” the woman said, preparing her young patient. “This part might not be quite so pleasant,” Korea could hear the magician say as she lay feeling the tingles slowly dissipate.

  Suddenly, all sense of pleasure came to a quick freeze when the cold speculum slipped inside of her. She could feel the cool clinic air rush into her open body; the swipe of dry cotton, a pinch, a squeeze, and then another swipe and it was over. Korea exhaled and relaxed her pelvis, and then the rest of her body.

  “Okay, Miss Smith,” Doctor Model said. “We’ll have to send these samples to a lab for tests. One of the nurses will be back in to talk to you.”

  “Tests,” Korea repeated softly, having been reminded of exactly where she was and why she was there. “Doctor, can you tell me what you think it is?” she asked in a voice that sounded much more frightened and tiny than any voice that had ever emanated from her throat before.

  She momentarily wondered if it was hers, and then she cleared her throat and tried again, repeating the question, this time with more assertiveness and adding, “Could they be hair bumps? See, I let Keith, that’s the guy…I let him shave me down there. When I told him about the bumps, he said they were probably just hair bumps,” Korea finished confidently.

  The doctor dropped her gloves into the trash receptacle and turned to look at the sixt
een-year-old girl who had probably gotten herpes before she had even had her first orgasm. “Well, I’d rather not say until the tests are back. There’s no point in getting you all excited, until we know for sure.” Then she winked one pale blue eye at Korea and disappeared behind a cold clinic door.

  In the ten days that it took to receive her test results in the mail, Korea ignored Keith’s calls, played basketball, and found it difficult to stop thinking about the doctor and that strange sensation she had had on her table.

  Korea was still pretty sure the bumps were nothing. They had scabbed over and fallen off without even leaving scars.

  CHAPTER 3: THE VIRGIN FILES:

  DREAM CROW

  Keith studied Dream Crow from across the room, examining her reaction to the screams and bumping sounds pounding against the wall. Titus, the pimp in the condo next door, was beating his unruly new hoe again, and every time her head hit the wall, Dream Crow flinched like her nerves were pinching her. She sat at her dressing table, nervously trying to apply lip liner to her full, heart-shaped lips, but she kept going out of the lines and had to keep starting over. On top of the screaming and pleading and slaps and booms crashing through the wall, Keith’s phone was ringing but he wouldn’t answer it. Her pager was buzzing with persistent reminders from her brother, Hartford, that she needed to get a new life. Her stomach was tied in knots and beginning to hurt.

  “Baby…” she said finally, hoping the sound of her own voice would calm her. “Do you want me to answer the phone?”

  Keith stood in front of his undraped panoramic windows with a sea of San Francisco skyline framing him. “No,” he said, smiling wickedly.

  He looked at the anxious phone, knowing Korea was on the other end of it, probably in a tailspin. It had been a while since she had told him about those bumps. She probably had her test results back from the clinic. He walked over to the stereo and turned the knob to raise the volume on Whitney Houston’s latest release, “Didn’t We Almost Have it All.”

  “Don’t answer the phone yet.” His voice was airy and loaded as he walked toward the back of Dream Crow’s red velvet stool and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “Why are you so nervous?” Keith asked into her ear as he bent down and looked into the mirror at her.

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Really? You seem nervous. I thought you might be because Titus is over there drunk and acting a fool again.”

  “I have a date that I can’t be late for. He’s pretty big time, I think. He won’t wait. I know he won’t wait if I’m late. That’s what it is. That’s all.”

  “Well, he’s going to have to wait.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “I need you to fix those shaky little hands of yours and trim my mustache.” Keith reached for her hand and grabbed the pager from it. He looked into the tiny screen to check the number. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “Yeah, I called him back when I got out of the shower. It’s my mom. She’s sick.”

  “And?”

  “And Hartford wants me to go to the hospital to see her. That’s all. But I’m not. I’m not going.” Dream Crow gave Keith a nervous smile and changed the subject. “Daddy, why don’t you go get me the scissors so I can trim you?”

  “Yeah, alright,” he said.

  Keith disappeared into the master bathroom. Dream Crow cleared the numbers in her pager and tucked the gadget into her tote. Between the incredible voltages of Whitney Houston’s crooning, she could hear Titus grunting through the wall. Their neighbor’s fights always ended with sex; always. Exactly like Dream Crow’s mother and father had.

  “Whose pussy is this?” Titus was commanding his green little runaway to answer, when Keith game back with the mustache scissors.

  “Sit down,” Dream Crow told him.

  “What did you say?”

  “Not like that, honey. I’m just saying, please, baby, sit down. My time is short.”

  “Life is short.” It was a warning she didn’t miss. “I’m not sitting on that stupid little stool. Do me in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.”

  She followed Keith into the kitchen and tried to hold her hands steady but her nerves were fucking her up and now she had to shit.

  “Your stomach’s growling,” Keith said. “Maybe you should eat before you head out.”

  “No. I’m not hungry.”

  “Maybe you need to shit then.”

  “No,” she said, embarrassed. “I don’t have to shit.”

  “Do you ever shit?”

  “Please, stop talking; you’re going to make me mess up your mustache.”

  “You better not mess up my Billy Dee Williams. We been together for some years and I’ve never even smelled your shit. What do you do? Wait for me to go to sleep, or leave the condo or something?”

  “Eeew, Keith, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Why not? Are you too much of a lady or something?” Keith asked sarcastically.

  Dream Crow worked on his mustache and sang along with Whitney Houston, who was getting all “Emotional.”

  “I’ve been waiting for the phone to ring all night

  Why you wanna make me feel so good

  I got a love of my own

  Shouldn’t get so hung up on you..”

  Keith got irritated whenever he heard Dream Crow singing. It meant she wasn’t over the stupid-ass fantasy she had about becoming a singer.

  “Ain’t you finished yet?”

  “Almost, baby,” she said, continuing to hum along with the diva on the stereo as she clipped and snipped.

  The kitchen phone rang. “You can answer that now. And please don’t be singing all up in my ear while I’m talking. This ain’t a fucking concert hall.”

  Dream Crow put the scissors down, wrung her hands, and fetched the phone. The voice of the teenager on the other end of the line pissed her off and reminded her of the white girl Keith had found and spent all kinds of money on. Had he learned nothing? After working for only a few weeks, the little ingrate had traded up and left her holding the bag. Between Dream Crow’s new car, Keith’s endless car renovations, the rent on the condo, and the heavy recruiting efforts he was making on this new “child” he was trying to mack on, they had twice the bills and half the income. Keith was barely helping her with anything, complaining that powder cocaine wasn’t moving because base rock was taking over.

  “It’s for you,” she snapped, as she walked back over to him and handed him the phone.

  Korea was in a rage on the other end of the phone. “You gave me herpes, you fucking bastard!” she screamed.

  “I know,” he said dryly, trying not to move his mouth too much while Dream Crow trimmed the last few hairs of his mustache.

  Korea was nearly inaudible as she screamed and cried through slobber and tears on the phone. All Keith could manage to understand of what she said was, “You scarred me for life.”

  “Look at it this way,” he said in a cool tone, waving Dream Crow and her scissors away from his face. “Now you don’t have to worry about catching it.”

  “Keith…you…” Korea couldn’t believe he was admitting to giving her herpes. She could not say another word.

  “Don’t say my name like a little bitch. As a matter of fact, don’t call me again until you ain’t actin’ like a little punk.”

  Keith hung up the phone. He sat for a few moments, contemplating his next move. He hated to have to come off the way he had to Korea on the phone. It had already been three months since he had spotted her at her high school basketball game, whipping ass like a dude on the court. If she had been any other chick, he would’ve had her working his track by now, but there was something special about her. He could start her out in the best hotels and he could get more money for her because she was young and had a unique look. She was unlike any female he had ever met. She was calculated and mannish in a way that he respected. She was also poor and desperate to get rich, so he thought he could present the game as a busi
ness opportunity that she could appreciate. He had planned on doing this a week ago, but now that she had caught the virus, he was going to have to change up the game plan. He sat for a minute in the kitchen, thinking about what he was going to do.

  “Man, I’m telling you, this girl is different. I can’t seem to break her,” Keith said, when he found Dream Crow sitting at her dressing table again.

  “Mmmm,” she mumbled, as she primped one last time in the mirror, thinking of her brother, Hartford, and her promise to him to meet a friend of his who was in town for a music convention at the Moscone Center. He had been blowing up her pager all night with reminder calls that the man would only be at The Bellevue Hotel until six o’clock the next morning. Hartford was desperate to get his sister out of the life. He was only nineteen and already on his way to the big time in the music industry. When they were children, he had made a promise to her to make her a star.

  Hartford was always complimenting her. He would say, “Your voice is almost as beautiful as you are, big sister.”

  Part of Dream Crow thought that Hartford was simply being a good brother, or working on her self-esteem to get her off the track and back on track. The other part of her knew that it was his way of taking care of her, as she had taken care of him, all that time their mother was too broken to even take care of herself. Their natural father, the late Jay Crow, had been a well-respected musician whose talents were as well known as his sins. He was a good provider, but he was also a violent and suspicious husband, prone to jealous rages. On nights when their father would come home drunk, the nights when a beating could be anticipated for their mother, Dream Crow would feed Hartford and Blue early and keep them in their room, entertained by concerts featuring herself as Chaka Khan, Patti LaBelle, or Donna Summer.

  When Jay Crow died at forty-four with an enlarged liver and a surprised look on his face, staring at his wife from the pillow beside hers, he still had a fist full of her hair in his hand. Except for the house they lived in, he had gambled away most of his possessions by then. He didn’t have life insurance or a savings of any kind, leaving his family impoverished and his uneducated, inexperienced wife severely depressed. She had always stayed in the house, day and night. Their father forbade her to leave. But when he died, their mother could not get out of bed. Dream Crow became the woman of the house, and raised Hartford and Blue on pure love and a diet of Oodles of Noodles. Asking for help from the government meant asking for trouble, so Dream Crow did whatever she needed to do to survive and keep her family together. Her younger sister, Blue, was assigned to nurse her mother back to health and Hartford made sure he did his part with his paper route.