Introducing Angel Dust, the newest author under Dominion Publishing. Following is an excerpt from her book, Was I born a slut...or slowly aquire the taste?, which will be released December 2007.
Peace.
Euftis
Introduction
It's march 28th 1992. Four days after I turned twenty-eight years old. As I sit in the dark and race desperately in and out of my mind for the answer to my misfortune, a light is broadening to remind me of my failure.
I've never took the time to think of my next step, I just took it. And after a period of time sometimes lengthy and sometimes not, I'd always fall on my face. With the help of stress and what is now explained to me as being P.M.S., I'd quit my job in mid December thinking, “Oh well, I'm living with my aunt so she'd be liable for the bills and Angie would find a way to take care of Angie and say fuck everyone else.”
But the moment I returned home from my former job, I remembered, "Ohhh shit! I have three children!”
Well I figured I'll recoup and sit around and lay around for about a month and find a new job and just maybe a financially secure man to take care of me and my three children and not necessarily in that order. So I chose to search for the man. You know, the one with the money and kind heart to just give it all up while I sit at home and be this lazy, conniving, overweight, oversexed super mom.
The first guy I tried to move in was a former co-worker with such a kind heart for giving. He gave me and my kids what we needed materially. And I got what I needed from somewhere else. His name was Bartholomew. I was so crazy about Bartholomew that I would do just about anything for him and he'd do the same for me. What I needed from him was sex.
Even as a child I needed sex daily like a diabetic needs insulin to sustain life. That’s why I had to find Bartholomew to fulfill my sexual appetite. He’s what I called my hamburger helper.
So I kept the financially secure man and I kept Bartholomew to. That is, until Mr. FinanciallySecure found out about his indirect sex partner. So now he's gone and I'm back in the want ad section in search of a semi wealthy, mutually sexual hunk to lighten my burdens.
Okay…jackpot! I think. I decided to visit a girlfriend who also happens to be an equally oversexed, unemployed little floozy like myself. Only she has a man. But, he has other women, no job, a lot of fist and not enough sex. So she says.
Although he does have a lot of friends.
I figure he can play love connection or at least point out a potential victim for my desires. Well he had a friend for the job. Hudson was his name and sex , all day all night was his game. Uh oh! He had no job, no life, no clothes, no vocabulary and no Angie.
I guess my mistake was sending a…nobody…to look for…somebody… knowing there was no way he'd be able to identify him. After about a month of no sex or money, I started out again. This time to my sisters house, which is only about a half block away.
She always had a house full of big strong, well groomed, horny working men. I arrived there one night wearing a red mini skirt and a T-shirt with no bra. So my ass, thighs and nipples were saying, "I'm ready willing and able to seductively spend my life with you."
And sure enough there was a big hunk waiting to be manipulated. Wesley was all the man I needed. We'd make love, I'd cook, he'd go to work and I would figure out a way to make his day and night so complete. That way he would always be mine.
The kids liked him which was very important because if they weren't happy, it could have resulted in their running away or turning to others for advice or comfort which could humiliate both them and I. I really did try to be there for them more than enough.
As the months went by, Wesley began to slack up on the money he was bringing home. Ohhh yea he moved in!
When I questioned him about it he replied, "Well Angie, I'm not earning enough to bring home to you and me, so I've been going out gambling and playing the lottery in hopes to double my pay. But instead, I come home in triple debt. Baby I'm sorry, okay."
Now I can deal with this because we're still living with my aunt rent free with only a phone bill and two minor furniture payments so I told him, “Fuck it dear! Just bring me half of your money and do what you want with the rest!”
"Are you sure," Wesley asked with those big brown eyes and soft plump lips that were saying, "Kiss me you bitch!"
And you know I did. Even though I'm overweight, I'm a big fan of Fredericks Of Hollywood. I would wear their most revealing crotch less lingerie. I've even worn their edible undies.
Wesley enjoyed my dressing up in three piece sets with lace gloves and garter belts. I'd put it all on and caress him and gently free his hard throbbing penis from the edible briefs he wore. As he watched me lick, suck and slowly devour the briefs, he smiled and said," I ain't never goin’ no where baby…"
I knew if he did, it would be by my choice only. Because it's one thing to watch an x-rated movie, but to live one was like having his wishes cum true all over my chest.
But after a while, the excitement died. There was very little money and practically no sex. That was my biggest clue that I picked the wrong mutha fucka.
Well lets see what else I can tell you about me. Before I left my job at the Hilton, there was always something fun to do. I was a housekeeper, which gave me access to all the guest rooms. I'd clock in and receive my schedule of rooms to be cleaned and be on my way. But there was this big distraction who happened to be another hamburger helper. You see, he was also an employee so I would page him or lure him up to the floor on which I was working and talk him into joining me in a suite to play house.
We never actually had sex at work but the kissing and touching was enough to have me clean every room in the hotel which was about 385 of ’em give or take a few. I'd eat and sleep there briefly in between cleaning and onn an 8am - 4:30pm schedule, I'd be done cleaning up to seventeen rooms or more by 2:00 p.m.
So I would make myself at home for the other two and a half hours. I would usually make it home about 5:00 p.m. and Wesley would be laying in bed doing nothing but watching television or reading the sports section of the daily news.
After about a month or two he had quit his job and was asking me for money to splurge on bullshit. I didn't mind at first but he would do odd jobs and come home complaining of a bad back, so he couldn't perform sexually. Now if I knew he was a handicapped mutha fucka, he would have been gone long before I started those damn sex games.
I decided to keep him around because I liked him and I thought he’d get another job and I'd get me another hamburger helper. So I started to have sex any time and any place I could. There's only one major detail I've left out. We were both married.
Wesley’s divorce was pending and at the time my husband was living somewhere in Texas. He fled to Texas to save his life from some guys that were just some of the many guys and gals he'd tried to hurt through stealing, pimping, or beating.
I didn't talk to him often. Once we separated, I received a phone call from my children’s uncle in Chicago on September 15 1991. Roland said, " Angie my homie is dead!”
I said, “Who's dead?"
He said, “Lockman is dead baby."
I screamed and cried and cried and asked what happened. Roland was just as emotional as I was, so he insisted that I call Texas and talk to our mutual Chicago friend Shane. Shane stated that Laurence (Lockman, aka my husband) was with some guys after work and was shot and killed by one of them.
His family and I arranged to have his body flown to Chicago for the funeral so his entire family could attend. Well I wanted a divorce…but not like this. I left Indianapolis to attend the services and returned the same day to assure my family that life must go on. But this time more productively.
Instead nothing changed. It actually got worse. I continued going to work and came home stressed out. The house would be a wreck and Wesley barely came home at all. Which meant no sex, unless I'd see a friend. It didn’t matter to me if the friend was mine or one of Wesley’s.
I'd fuck on buses (with the driver), in offices (with dudes in the mailroom), you get the picture. I fucked and fucked and fucked until I said, “That's it! I can't do this anymore! I don't feel like getting AIDS on top of all my other problems!”
So I put Wesley’s tired ass out, quit my job and said, "I've got to get my life together!"
But at twenty-seven with no high school diploma or equivalent, what could I do? I wondered and cried and cried and wondered and became very lonely and isolated. I would stay in my room all day and talk on the phone to my total zero buddy Caroline. But I still could not convince myself or her that we needed to get a life.
Towards the end of December I met Chilly Chauncy. I decided to call him that because he was such a tall, thick, handsome, smooth talking man. I knew there was no way I could ever manipulate him. He seemed to be the master of game, lies and deceit. So I figured he’d just be someone to compare game with. I didn’t plan to have sex with him.
But being the little trollop that I am…I gave in. Hell, I had to sex him up a little. What I thought would be a little hit and run turned into a night of hard, wet thrusting. Although I didn't break out the Fredericks of Hollywood because now I'm bigger than ever.
So occasionally he'd call and I'd leave on a big t-shirt and slip off my panties and let him work with that. Chilly seemed to be a nice guy, but something was telling me that I was getting in over my head. So I avoided him.
Maybe a week later, I went with my sister to the rental office in the apartment complex in which we lived. I often took care of my aunts bills since she was in her late eighties and needed someone to make sure her bills were paid promptly.
At that time I was told that the office management was aware that my family and I were residing with my aunt in her one bedroom apartment with a den. Which was very unaccommodating and that they planned on putting us out.
Now what? I didn't have a job, no money and no man to lean on. I shut out all my friends and family again and just sat and wondered how I'm going to find a place to live and if I do find someplace, how can I afford it. My credit was fucked up. Every place I called requested a minimum 2-3 years on the job with an excellent credit history.
But there was one place I could get by with. They only asked for a 50% good credit rating. I lied and said I was still working at the Hilton. Plus working part time with my mom at the Indiana Repertory theater in their telemarketing department. Luckily they didn't check.
So now I needed $350.00 to move in. No problem, my aunt wrote me a check and in a week I was in. About a week after that, I called Chilly. I didn't want him to know where I was living so I told him I was at my sisters house.
I didn’t tell Chilly where I was living because what I needed was someone who was working and had patience. He would definitely need it to put up with three kids and a PMS stricken sex machine.
My attempts to find a good man were unsuccessful and I started getting weak from lack of sex. So I called one of Wesley' friends. His name was Rodney but everyone called him Dickie. I preferred to call him Rodney since that was more of a manly name. And believe me I had the chance to call his name quite a bit that night because he punished my pussy.
Eventually I called Chauncy and told him where I lived. It was twenty below zero and almost 2:00 a.m. but I gave him the directions and he came by and spent the weekend.
Since the kids were away at my sisters, we fucked, played Uno, fucked, ate, fucked, ate and fucked. I loved it. Sunday evening he left because I didn't want the kids to see a new face so soon after Wesley since I wasn't sure if he'd be the one living with us.
I kept searching though because what I needed was someone who me and my kids could benefit from. No luck! A few days later, Chilly was back again. This time I lost track of how long he stayed. Finally he asked me if he could bring his clothes to my house and I said, "Why not, you're here every day!"
I wasn't seeing anyone else and Chilly really made my day. We cooked together, sex was spontaneous and he listened to me. But what's missing? Oh yea, Chilly is laid off from work. Damn! Just when I thought I had a live one.
So I decided, “So what! I'm not working either! I'll just apply for welfare. And he'll get his job back and we'll make it some how.”
The welfare checks came through along with the food stamps and help from Chilly’s parents and my aunt. “We'll make it!”, I thought.
The first couple of months Chauncy was in and out of trouble. Whether it be the law or a victim of his many games. He stayed in some shit. But I hung on because I knew that we would find a way. He'll get his job back, and I'll find a job even though I've been everywhere looking with no luck.
Looking back at all this I now know, that the light that was expanding in that dark filled room that I talked about at the start of the introduction to this book, was God trying to tell me something. I need to start back as far as I could remember, and correct my mistakes. Ask for forgiveness, and let God guide me towards a better life at twenty-eight and then on. Till death do us part.
Are you ready to take a walk with me through my history?
