Coca Kola - The Baddest Chick by Nisa Santiago

men—brokers, investment bankers, entrepreneurs, a few big-time street hustlers, cops, and even a senator’s aide—were willing to pay up to two grand to frequent one of her parties, knowing that the women attending would be top-notch and disease-free. One time, a senator himself showed up at one of Kola’s parties.
    Kola was strict with her business, taking charge of everything, from the type of music that she wanted playing, to the refreshments served, to the attire the girls needed to wear. She even had her girls checked on a regular for any STDs, and she made sure security was on point.
    R. Kelly’s “Bump N’ Grind” was blaring throughout the party, while the girls walked around the hall with their body parts exposed, eyes and hands flirting. Kola strutted into the hall in a V set, the bra and V-string encrusted with colorful Swarovski crystals, and bright red stilettos. The raunchy attire showed off her wonderful shape, but she was the only woman off-limits to the men. She belonged to Cross, and Cross was a jealous lover most times.
    Kola chatted with a few of the men who were seated by the bar sipping on a bottle of Moët. Wearing boxers and T-shirts, and their dicks hard like rocks, they came from Wall Street to unwind and fool around with the best ladies in the room.
    She smiled and asked, “How are y’all gentlemen doing?”
    One of the men raised his glass to Kola and replied, “I think I’m never going home to my wife.”
    The men around him broke up laughing.
    Kola smiled at his comment and moved on. She was only eighteen and already the boss of things. She looked around to see if everything was going smoothly, and she was proud of what she saw.
    Still, Kola had other business to take care of. She had a few ki’s to move in a limited period, and she wasted no time getting on the phone calling up people. She even used her sex parties as an avenue to network.
    She had an interest in three particular fellows at her party. One of the men was Perry. He was a fierce Dominican from the East Side in Spanish Harlem, and one of the hustlers who got his product from Chico. Kola saw this as an opportunity to get into his ear about business.
    She watched Perry closely, observing him flirt with the girls. He was a pretty boy with long, thick braids, hazel eyes, and smooth brown skin. He had some height on him, and every inch of him was physically built. The ladies in the hall were drawn to Perry like he was NBA ball player. They loved his swag and knew he was somebody rich and important. He was swathed in bling, smoking his Black and Mild and laughing with his boys by a table.
    Kola pulled Sassy to the side. She pointed to Perry. “You see him over there?” She watched as he grabbed a few of the ladies’ booties and tits.
    Sassy, one of Kola’s Asian assassins in the bedroom, nodded.
    “I want you to take him a bottle of Cristal and tell him it’s on the house from me.”
    Sassy nodded again.
    Kola wanted Perry’s attention. She observed how he and his crew were downing bottles like water and figured it would be polite. She watched Sassy walk to the bar, get a bottle of Cristal, and sashay over to Perry and his boys with a flirtatious smile and scantily clad in a black off-the-shoulder stretch lace micro chemise with nothing underneath.
    ***
    The men smiled, and Sassy worked her magic, especially on Perry, taking a seat on his lap and whispering something in his ear.
    He smiled and said, “I like your style, ma.”
    “And I like yours,” Sassy returned.
    What Sassy lacked in ass, she made up for in plump breasts and her exotic features. She had full lips, round hips, and sultry Asian eyes that could arouse a man’s heart without even trying.
    Perry rested his hands between her thighs and played with her pussy. “Damn! And shaved too. I like that, ma.”
    “I bet you do.” Sassy felt his fingers digging into her slippery insides, rubbing against her clit. A pleasing moan escaped her lips.
    “You like