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 My Dirty Hot Angel

Episode 1

“I get money,” blared throughout The Magic Spot, a strip club in West Philly. It was Chaos’s theme song every night that she performed. She loved 50 Cent and loved his new hit single with a passion. Every time she got on stage to dance, she requested that the DJ play that song for her opening act.

She twirled herself around the long pole that was positioned from the ceiling to the stage, spinning around in her six-inch wedge heels like a little girl on the playground. She was completely naked, her body gleaming with a mixture of sweat and baby oil as she performed her routine. Her trimmed pubic hairs were in plain view for dozens of men as they ogled over her. Her curvy figure was flawless from head to toe, and her long, side-swept bangs were slightly longer at the crown. It was the perfect hairstyle for her beautiful round face.

Chaos’s saucy bedroom eyes stared into the crowd of men as they tossed money at her and fantasized about being in between the sheets with such a beautiful woman. It was clear that she was high and a bit tipsy from the Patrón she’d been sipping on with her girls in the back, but it was her new drink and it was how she got through the night. Her full, glossy lips curled into a full smile as she cupped her full-sized breasts, which displayed chocolate, erect nipples. Chaos crouched seductively in front of one of her male customers and teased him, her trimmed pussy just inches from his reach. It was apparent that she could easily be the cover girl for Smooth or King magazines. Her body was just that tight.

She moved closer to the middle-aged man who was at the club almost every night. He wore thick glasses and wasn’t stingy with his money. Bobby was known for buying the girls drinks all night and having wandering hands. He loved to touch the ladies and had an octopus-like grip. He clutched one hundred dollars in one-dollar bills in his right hand and was willing to give it all to Chaos.

Chaos took his free hand and slowly moved it between her thighs, close to her goodies. Bobby showed off a broad smile and asked, “Damn, Chaos, why you keep teasing me like this?”

Chaos smiled and moved her pussy closer to his eager reach. Bobby was ready to finger fuck her, but Chaos unexpectedly moved her pussy back a bit and said soothingly, “C’mon Bobby, you know if you wanna play, then you gotta pay.”

Bobby flashed a smile and began sprinkling the bills onto her, letting the money rain down on her slowly. Chaos beamed and rubbed the bills all over her chest, giggling as she felt herself becoming aroused. She moved closer to Bobby again and positioned her smooth, meaty thighs around his shoulders, so that her pulsating pussy was up in his face. A few fellows seated next to Bobby peered over with overexcited expressions on their faces—waiting to witness some kind of freakish act.

“Damn, Chaos, I never get tired of you,” Bobby proclaimed.

“You better not! You always do me right, Bobby,” Chaos replied.

She felt his alcoholic breath blow against her pussy lips and her legs began to quiver as his fingers ran across her thighs. Chaos arched into a backbend, the palms of her hands flat against the stage. She was athletic and well toned, able to contort her body in many different positions that drove niggas crazy.

“You like to eat out, Bobby?” Chaos asked with a smile.

Bobby began to feel her up, yearning for her body to press against his. He had a strong crush on Chaos. He grew erect, wishing Chaos would help take care of his hard dick; but he knew not to get too close or disrespect her, because she was Crown’s girl. To get close to Crown’s girl, niggas had to pay some serious cash just to sniff the pussy.

Crown was a high-end pimp nigga with a bad temper. He was well known in West Philly, mostly for turning out young chicks to the game and getting rich from what his ladies sold between their legs. He was from South Jamaica, Queens, but got into a beef a few years back with some gangsters and had to leave town in a hurry. Philly had been his home for the past ten years and he had definitely made a reputation for himself.

Crown traveled in style, sporting upscale fashions and blinged out in platinum and diamonds, looking like a blend of Slick Rick and Snoop Dogg. He was tall and stocky with a long perm, a trimmed goatee, and a platinum grill piece that shined like the sun when he smiled.

He definitely had swagger. Crown loved the spotlight and everything about pussy—the look of it, the smell of it, the addiction to it, the feel of it, and especially the money it brought him daily.

Crown had four chicks working for him, each of them having their own traits and diverse bodies. Midnight was his tall, raven beauty from Kentucky. She had the big country booty, big country tits, and a southern slang that drove the men crazy. She was tall and dark-skinned, 5’11” and was the new girl on the scene. She was very passive and somewhat naïve; she was only nineteen and grew up around farmland most of her life.

Then there was Cherish, who was from Philly and had a fierce temper like Crown. Cherish loved the street life. She was 5’6” with a sweet, caramel complexion and a thick, curvaceous body like Beyoncé. Cherish was cute in the face but a thug everywhere else, and she would cut a nigga or a bitch quickly if you fucked with her or her boo, Crown. She loved Crown and everything about him and got jealous quickly when he paid more attention to his other hoes—or any other bitch—when she was around. Cherish’s reputation was also fierce, and those who knew about her tried to stay on her good side.

There was Sweet, who had a body like Chaos, but wasn’t much of a beauty like the rest of the girls. Sweet had a lazy left eye and tended to wear shades out of insecurity. Her hair was mostly a rich weave that she sewed in herself. The piercings and tattoos that covered sixty percent of her body were somewhat intimidating for some of the men, who sometimes thought that she was a dyke. Sweet’s attitude and sexuality made up strongly for what she lacked in the face. Like Crown and Chaos, she was from New York—Bed-Stuy—and moved to Philly to make a better life for herself and to escape the criticism from her family because she was.

Sweet met Crown at a bus stop on Broad Street when he pulled up to her in his bright red convertible Benz and asked if she needed a ride. She was somewhat impressed by the car, but skeptical about taking a ride with a stranger, especially one who was clad in a blue mink coat on a fall day and had two large diamond studded earrings in both ears and a diamond-grill.

Sweet was alone and the coldness in the evening air started to make her tremble. She was dressed in a light jacket and a long skirt and it was a long bus ride to the Gallery mall.

“You’ll catch a cold out here in that jacket, beautiful,” Crown had said, eyeing Sweet and knowing she was full of potential.

“I’m good,” Sweet had replied.

“You sure, luv? I’m in no rush. I like what I see and

I’m going wherever you’re going. Just give me a few minutes and I promise I got some things that you’d like to hear, believe me. I ain’t tryin’ to waste your time or mines,” Crown had said with confidence and a strong stature.

Sweet smiled. She tried to play hardball with him, but inside, she was as gullible as a little girl during her first kiss. She wanted love. She wanted to be noticed. She wanted security. She hated her job at the clothing store in the Gallery and always dreamed of having a better life.

Crown had been watching her for a month, unbeknownst to her. He first noticed her when he was in the store where she worked to purchase some jeans. He spotted Sweet standing alone and noticed her insecurities. He noticed the lazy eye and saw how she turned her attention away from customers who stared at her for too long. But her body was tight and showed through her beige slacks and white collared work clothing. From that point on, Crown made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

Crown gave Sweet a moment to think about it, and within a moment, she nodded and jumped into the car. Crown smiled, extended his hand out to her, and said, “I’m Crown, beautiful . . . and you are?”

“Kathy,” she said, shaking Crown’s hand and noticing his impeccable manicure and the encrusted yellow gold diamond ring on his pinky finger.

“Kathy, huh? Typical, but we’ll work on that,” Crown replied and pulled off.

Kathy a.k.a. Sweet had never been in such a nice ride before and felt like a queen in a noble carriage. She wanted to melt in the plush burgundy leather seats. He had a Chaka. Khan track playing, and she was impressed by his style and taste of music.

She glanced at Crown and noticed how sharp and handsome he looked up close. His smooth, black skin looked polished, and his trimmed goatee highlighted his full lips, his teeth looking white as snow, even under his iced-out mouth grill. His long hair was perfect and straightened out, every strand looking like it was precisely placed.

She felt nervous to speak around him, asking herself, Why does this nigga want to holla at me? But Sweet kept her opinions to herself and went along for the ride. She avoided eye contact with him mostly, hating her lazy eye, but Crown made her feel comfortable about herself.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kathy, so stop tryin’ to avoid eye contact wit’ me. I don’t give a fuck about your eye, I care about the woman, and one little flaw doesn’t stop me from noticing the rest of you,” Crown said with zeal in his voice.

Crown made her smile because no man had ever said that about her before. She knew he was different from most niggas that tried to get at her who only wanted pussy or a blowjob and veered away from having a relationship with her. She was far from being wifey material because they didn’t feel comfortable around her. She had too many tattoos (a red devil, numerous flowers and butterflies, and her name in curvy letters) and some of the piercings made her look like a freak. But when it came to her body and her pussy, they jumped on them with the quickness—wham, bang, thank you, bitch—and “I’m good,” right afterwards.

Niggas wanted no love from her—just a fuck and a suck. So it fucked with Sweet, and her low self-esteem made her easy and somewhat the talk of the town.

“Can I be honest wit’ you, luv?” Crown asked.

“About what?” Sweet asked in a low tone.

“I had noticed you a month before . . . you work at Champions in the Gallery, right?”

“What, you stalking me now?”

“Nah, just needed the right time to get wit’ you. I saw you around and when I peeped you at the bus stop, I had to come say hi,” he said.

“I’m just shocked that I caught your eye,” she replied.


“I don’t know, it’s just, you’re a fine lookin’ man.”

“And, boo, you gotta stop doubting yourself. Let me tell you somethin’. Power and confidence attracts people to you. To be powerless and feeble repels muthafuckas away from you, so stop acting like you’re unattractive, ’cause you ain’t. You’re beautiful.”

She flashed a smile and glanced at him for a moment. “So what you do anyway?” she asked.


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