Don’t Speak On Fresh Cutz Part One: Let’s Wake It Up

If there’s anything Nyah can do, it’s hustle and learn quickly. So when she desperately needed a job and her friend Big P let her know there was an open chair at the barber shop he and their other best friend, the expert braider Stassia, works at, Nyah was down immediately. Fresh Cutz owner Ryan took a liking to her quickly, and with Stassia’s help, Nyah was confident that she could manage the machismo of the shop.

But after Fresh Cutz gets robbed and everyone becomes a suspect, Nyah reluctantly discovers the secrets of the shop and needs to figure out how to sink or swim.

With eroticism, twists, and mystery, tune in every weekend to see a new development in the story “Don’t Speak on Fresh Cutz.”

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Don’t Speak on Fresh Cutz
Part One: Let’s Wake it Up

I should’ve known to expect a scene when I rolled up to Fresh Cutz this morning. My body was giving me all the signs.

You know that tingle you get that lets you know something is about to go down? Like you’re on the edge waiting for something to happen with no real evidence that anything will happen at all. But you just know.

The biggest and most obvious clue was that Ryan was gone before I woke up. The only thing that man loves more than fucking me to sleep is fucking me in the morning to help both of us wake up. But today I stretched along my new king bed he got me and felt even more space than usual. The spot where he’d been laying was cold.

And so my routine was immediately broken, and I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of pissed that I had to start this morning without dick. So I took off my red panties and climbed over the spot in bed where he should have been. Straddling my memory of him, I held my fingers between my thick, brown thighs and grinded against my hand until I came, and it didn’t take long because when I buried my face into his pillow I could still smell him.

I wondered for a second if maybe his wife came back early from her trip, and nearly lost myself as a quick flood of jealousy pulsed through my stomach and toward my groin. Me and him never was supposed to be a real thing, anyway.

I got ready for work, but the little things just kept going wrong. My hot water was out again. I dropped my loose leaf tea jar on the floor of my kitchen and it got everywhere. I broke my pipe. It was the type of start to the day that would keep a more superstitious person inside. But I’m Ms. Reasonable, and I’m proud to say that even after all that, I was only fifteen minutes late to my shift by the time I pulled into the strip mall parking lot.

But as I got closer to the shop to park my car, I could tell something was wrong. Everybody was outside. Panda was wrangling his hands sitting down against the building, Vontae was hollering to the rest of the crew the way he does when he’s either extremely ecstatic or extremely furious. And there was Ryan, pacing back in forth in front of the Fresh Cutz door with his hand on his temple in thought, the sound of glass crunching beneath his feet.

I parked, took a deep breath, then popped out and faced my co-workers and boss, throwing my hands in the air. “What the fuck is this?”

“What it look like?” Vontae said, a hush falling across the 7 person crew that should be cutting hair right now. “We got robbed and we about to run up on niggas.”

“Aight hold up just a second,” Ryan said. “We gon’ figure out who did this but we ain’t running up on nobody right now. So let’s dead that conversation.”

Ryan started to return to his pacing, but turned to face the group again. “Some of y’all be making shit hot. I’m pissed right now, this my shop so I should be the most pissed, and if anybody should be talking about running up on niggas it should be me,” he paused. “I’m not, so y’all really shouldn’t either.”

He’s a little egomaniac and weird and he hasn’t looked me in the eyes since I got here, and part of me is embarrassed to cumming to thinking of him earlier, and another part of me wants him to fuck me while he’s this angry.

A third part of me is like, hold up. Robbery? Breaking, and then entering? I mean does Cutz even carry cash like that? I know better than to ask my questions out loud. In my experience, when shit like this happens you need to take a close look at your circle. I was even looking at Ryan a little funny, if I’m being honest. Weirder things have happened than the owner of a shop staging a robbery for some insurance shit. I don’t know how it all works but I know people do it.

As I’m thinking, a big black truck pulled up to the shop, and four sizeable niggas came out. Ryan walked over to them and dapped them up before once again turning to his staff.

“We gon’ do a real quick inventory inside, everybody hang out around here but don’t nobody leave yet. We gonna get this sorted out and we gonna talk with some of y’all to conduct our little...investigation.”

Two of the men walked inside the shop, stepping through the bashed-in glass door. The other two flanked Ryan.

Panda threw his hands up over his head in frustration. “All I’m saying is if my gear is gone, on my son somebody paying for that shit,” he said, to which many of my co-workers nodded and voiced similar sentiments.

“We gone figure this right out,” Ryan said. “Now y’all need to call y’all clients and tell them we not finna open for a few hours. I’m gonna ask some of y’all some questions back in my office.”

“Newt,” Ryan said, gesturing to me without making eye contact, using the nickname the shop gave me that I absolutely hate. “You first.”

The other barbers chuckled to themselves, some in relief. I heard someone joke about it always being the good girls that are the baddest. My face got hot and I hoped I didn’t show it. What the fuck is Ryan’s problem anyway? Why do I gotta be first? He knows it wasn’t me, he’s my alibi for last night and this morning. Or did he forget whose box his face was just in, talking about how loves me?

Now I’m the first person who needs to “talk to” for a fucking robbery? I swear sometimes this corny nigga makes me want to throw up!

Ryan looked at me, finally making eye contact, and beckoned at me with his hand with a seriousness in his eye. “Come with me.”

As I followed Ryan through the ransacked barber shop towards his office in the back, I surveyed the damage. This wasn’t just a robbery, it was a rampage. A few of the black leather chairs looked like someone ripped them open with scissors or knives. Product was smeared on the tiled floor and the gold framed mirrors, and the paperwork behind the front desk was thrown everywhere. I stepped gingerly to avoid tracking any glass around with my white forces. Ryan opened the door to his office, which, by the look of the broken lock, had also been broken into. He held the door for me, and as I passed by him and smelled his cologne I felt tiny fire works go off deep inside.

Ryan closed the door and put his hands into his pockets, leaned back against the door, and stared at me. I stared back.

“So I just think it’s funny how you would think I robbed the store last night when last night I was busy getting my box ate by you? Are you kidding me, Ryan?” I said in a hushed whisper, conscious of making sure our conversation couldn’t be heard by any potential eavesdroppers. “You really gonna make it seem like it was me when you know good and damn well—“

The stern, serious look on Ryan’s face fell into a laugh. He rubbed his beard with his hands and chuckled. “Ion’t think it was you, Nyah.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked me in my eyes. “I just really need to fuck you to get my head straight.”

Ryan paused. My emotions still a mixture of anger and being turned on, I tensed for a moment as I processed the curveball he presented me with and decided which of my impulses I would give in to.

It didn’t take long for me to make that decision. I could already feel that familiar wetness in between my legs.

Ryan was still looking at me. “Will you give me that pussy real quick?”

I felt like my breath was caught in my throat, so I nodded instead of trying to figure out what words to say. I walked over to his desk and unbuttoned my black jeans, and bent over, arching my back with my elbows propping myself up against the desk. I looked back at my ass and then at Ryan, who had already unzipped his pants and was playing with his dick.

I started wiggle my thighs a little, then more until you could hear the faint sound of my clapping ass cheeks. I looked back at it again. Making it clap, while being discreet? I was turning myself on.

Ryan walked over to me, rubbing his dick with his hands, and stood behind me. He slapped his dick against me, pulling his dick slightly up and then letting it fall with a thud against my body. He started biting my ass and tasted the warm, tart wetness of my pussy. “You already ready for me,” he said between flicking his tongue against my clitoris.

“I’m always ready for you, baby.” I moaned in a whisper.

Then I felt the head of his penis, smooth and hard, slowly poke against the soft, warm entrance of my pussy. He teased me with short shallow strokes at first. He had learned early on in our affair that doing this gets me to the point of begging him to give all of it to me.

“Please, Ryan,” I whined in a low voice. “Please, I need it.”

“Uh huh,” he said as he slid himself inside of me, slow and deep. “I know you do. I know you need this dick.” He started stroking me deeper, longer, and harder.

I don’t know what came over me to make me do what I did next. Maybe I was still anxious from finding out about the robbery. Maybe I was overcompensating from having a bad morning. But I stood up when Ryan was mid-stroke, turned to face him, and I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed. I could feel his long dick jumping, the wet tip grazing against my tummy as it did.

“If you’re gonna fuck me to get the anger out, do it. I want you to hurt me.” I said as he feverishly played with his dick with his hands. “And I want you to hurt me even more tonight.”

I released my grip around his neck and he turned me around and pressed my face to his desk, one hand on my head with his hands gripping my recently-dyed green locs, and the other holding one of my wrists behind my back. He went inside me as hard as ever, and finished within a few minutes.

“You gonna have to stop cumming inside me one day,” I said to him as he pulled himself out of me and starting to clean us up.

He paused for a moment before continuing his clean up routine. “You know I’m not fucking her anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” I sighed.

“Always trying to blow my high.”

“What you gonna do to make me stop?”

Ryan looked at me with a frenzied look in his eye. This is the Ryan I longed for. Passionate, intense, arrogant, clever, sexy. He caressed my neck with both of his hands, squeezing gently, before leaning close to my face and whispering in my ear.

“There’s a lot of ways I can punish you,” he said. “I may have you get on your knees and choke on this dick, have you gagging and drooling and crying all over it…” he paused and lightly slapped my cheek as he held my face. “But you like that shit too much.”

He pulled me into him, my face buried in his chest, and he slid his fingers down to my clit and started playing with me as I melted into his embrace.

And just as quickly as he started, he stopped. “Now get yourself ready to go back outside and make your calls. It’s been about fifteen minutes and I don’t want people thinking we in here too long.” He held up his fingers in front of my face. “Taste yourself for me before you go.”

I opened my mouth and twirled the tip of my tongue around his index and pointer finger before putting them both into my mouth. I lightly sucked them. I love the taste of myself. Warm with a bit of spice like allspice, or a bit like beer.

Leaving Ryan’s office, I steadied my face and tensed my body so I wouldn’t have that confident swagger I get after cumming, and I did another survey of the shop. I suddenly realized one of the chairs that got sliced was the one Big P uses, my best friend who got me this gig. And in the hecticness that was this morning, I just realized that I hadn’t seen him yet today even though he was scheduled to work.

I started to pull out my phone to text him when I made another sudden realization. The destruction that found Big P’s chair was a part of the majority. As a matter of fact, all of the chairs had been destroyed, except for one.

Mine.

Will Nyah confront Ryan about her feelings about their affair? Where is Big P? And why is Nyah’s chair the only one left untouched…is someone trying to frame her?

Tune in the first weekend of July to see part two of “Don’t Speak on Fresh Cutz.”