Also by Zane
Addicted
The Heat Seekers
The Sex Chronicles: Shattering the Myth
Gettin’ Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II
Shame on It All
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2003 by Zane
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Atria Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-8082-6
ISBN-10: 0-7434-8082-1
ATRIABOOKS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
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This novel is dedicated to my loving husband and best friend, Wayne, and to the sorors of Alpha Phi Fuckem Sorority, Inc.
www.alphaphifuckem.com
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Acknowledgments
With every book, writing acknowledgments becomes harder because I am always afraid that I will leave someone “important” out. The fact is that everyone is important to me. So, if for some reason you do not see your name here, please forgive a tired, pregnant woman for the oversight.
God is still number one on my list and forever will be. Every day is a gift. Every day is a challenge. That is what I live for. Without His blessings, none of us would be here and that is something that should never be regarded as a given.
To my parents, who are celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary a couple of months after this book comes out, you are an inspiration to those of us that are just in the early stages of married life. Fifty years is truly a lifetime and I cannot think of a more adoring couple. Thanks for raising me, sustaining me, and being the coolest parents on the earth. It is not easy to accept that your daughter writes “sex books,” but your love has only gotten stronger for me and I appreciate it and both of you.
To my husband, Wayne, I do not have to tell you the level of importance you have in my life because I attempt to show that to you every day. In return, I get pampered and showered with love so it is an even trade-off. Like you always say, our relationship is not 50/50 but 100/100.
To my kids, Mommy loves and adores you. I am so proud of all of your accomplishments, and the joy you bring into my life can never be measured. To my son, even though your hormones are raging and you are learning to be independent, never forget that I am your best friend and your greatest supporter. To my daughter, the love notes you give me on a daily basis are inspirational and there is not a shadow of doubt that you will follow in my footsteps and become an author. You already are one. To the son I am carrying inside of me, we can barely wait to meet you and as active as you are already, I am sure you will come out putting foot to ass just like your proud papa. To Erica, I am glad to call you my stepdaughter and I am sure that we will only become closer as time goes by.
To my family members: Miss Bettye, Carlita, Charmaine, Rick, David, Aunt Rose, Aunt Margaret, Aunt Neet, Miss Maurice and Uncle Snook, Uncle George and Miss Mary, Joyce and Ed, and all those I am close to, thanks for the support and love.
To my friends: Pamela Crockett, Esq., Destiny Wood, Lisa Fox, Karen Black, Janet Allen, Sharon Johnson, Dee McConneaughy, Denise Barrow, Tracy Crockett, and all the rest of you chicas, thanks for all the laughs, all the cookouts and parties at the crib, and for practically breaking your neck to get to me when you all think I even cough the wrong way. While I do think you all are a bit overprotective at times, there is never a second when I do not appreciate the love. A special shout out goes to Pamela Crockett, M.D., and Cornelia Williams, two of my oldest and dearest friends that are still representing down in Georgia.
To the special kids in my life: Arianna, Ashley, Jazmin, Adam (my teenage godson), Jerlan (my new godson), Tislem, Indira, Briana, Karlin, Brian, Jr., and Nicholas, thanks for making me remember that children are the most precious gifts.
To all the people that honored my wishes on my wedding day and made donations to the Children’s National Medical Center in lieu of gifts, thank you for your generous offerings to help make the lives of children suffering from major illnesses brighter. It meant the world to us and your thoughtfulness was heartwarming.
To my agent, Sara Camilli, as always thanks for keeping my best interest at the forefront of every conversation, for always being concerned about my health and impressing upon me the need to get rest. I often get excited about life in general and it is hard to slow down; even for a few seconds.
To my editor, Malaika Adero, thanks for putting up with a free-spirited, controversial writer such as myself. One never knows what I will be turning in next, but you always accept it with grace. Thank you to the rest of the Simon & Schuster family: Carolyn Reidy, Judith Curr, Louise Burke, Demond Jarrett, Brigitte Smith, Dennis Eulau, and the rest of the crew for your unwavering support and encouragement. A special thanks goes out to my publicist, Staci Shands, for all of her hard work on my behalf.
To the Strebor Books International family that is growing by leaps and bounds. Thanks for allowing me to share in your dreams, and I am honored to be not only your publisher but your friend. You are the authors of the future and I will not give up until all of you get what you deserve. I hope that my readers will support all of you because I would not publish you unless I knew in my heart that they would enjoy your work. So to my readers, please check out: Daughter by Spirit and Everybody Got Issues by V. Anthony Rivers, All That and a Bag of Chips and Been There, Done That by Darrien Lee, Luvalwayz: The Opposite Sex and Relationships and Draw Me With Your Love by Shonell Bacon and JDaniels, The Last Dream Before Dawn by D.V. Bernard, Feenin by Nane Quartay, Sex, Lies & Big Mistakes by Destin Soul, Love and Justice by Rique Johnson, Nyagra’s Falls by Michelle Valentine, Turkeystuffer by Mark Crockett, My Diet Starts Tomorrow by Laurel Handfield, Another Man’s Wife by Shonda Cheekes, Missed Conceptions by Michelle DeLeon, Pandora’s Box by Allison Hobbs, Money for Good by Franklin White, Ballad of a Ghetto Poet by A.J. White, Passion Marks by Lee Hayes, and Jasminium by Jonathan Luckett. Also check out Blackgentlemen.com by myself, Shonda Cheekes, JD Mason (author of And on the 8th Day She Rested and One Day I Saw a Black King), and Eileen Johnson as well as Sistergirls.com by Rique Johnson, Destin Soul, V. Anthony Rivers, William Fredrick Cooper (author of Six Days in January), Earl Sewell (author of Taken for Granted), and Michael Pressley (author of Blackfunk and Blackfunk II: No Regrets/No Apologies). Much love goes out to the Strebor Books International staff: Charmaine, Wayne, Andre, and Pamela, as well as all the freelancers that make our lives easier. For more information, check out www.streborbooks.com.
Thanks to all the other authors that have shown me love, respect and support from day one: Eric Jerome Dickey, Margaret Johnson-Hodge, Sheila Copeland, Tracy Price-Thompson, Karen E. Quinones Miller, Nancy Flowers, Gwynne Forster, Pat G’Orge-Walker, Collen Dixon, Dwayne Birch (I am still your biggest fan and once these publishing houses stop sleeping on you, you are going to be a force to be reckoned with—Shattered Souls should have sold 500,000 copies by now), Marlon Green, Anthony Ri’chard, and so many, many more. If I left your name out, insert it here _______. To those authors that have befriended me and then decided to try to stab me in the back, trust me when I say that it all gets back to me. I am not mad; just disappointed. You can’t knock the hustle and if you think talking bad about me will help you sell more books, I wish you well. There is enough room at this table for all of us; wake up and realize it.
Thanks t
o all the distributors, bookstores, book clubs both on- and offline that support my efforts. Thanks to all the radio personalities and reporters that have taken the time out to interview me; especially asha bandele from Essence and David Kirkpatrick from the New York Times. Thanks to all the people that spread the word about my books because word-of-mouth advertising is what truly sells them. Thanks to all the thousands of people that email me weekly to tell me to keep my head up and not listen to the “haters.” Do not worry; nothing and no one can make me change what is in my heart and when I am writing, it is just me and my imagination. We are both off the chain. For the thousands that have requested Shame on It All Again, it is coming along with Shame on It All Forever. Harmony, Bryce, Lucky, Fatima, and Colette have a long way to go and I love writing about them.
Hubby, close your eyes and skip over this part. The Sisters of APF: The Indoctrination of Soror Ride Dick means a lot to me. It was a joy to write and being a member of the sorority itself is even more of a joy.
If I have forgotten anyone, please do not take it personally. I have another book coming out in three months (Nervous), and another one coming out three months after that (Skyscraper), so I will catch you on the next one.
Now sit back, grab a glass of wine, a beer, or some white lightning if you are from South Dakota like the main character in this book and enjoy the escapades of Mary Ann, Patricia, and Olive.
Peace and blessings,
Zane
In the beginning, there was sex. Boring, passionless sex with women in the missionary position looking at the ceiling, wishing men would hurry up and bust a nut so they can get to sleep. That type of meaningless sex lasted for generations—from the days of the caveman, to the days of the covered wagons, to the days of the bouffant—men thinking they can get their jollies off and not give women pleasure in return.
Then change began to take place; right around the time women obtained the right to vote. Women’s sexual inhibitions began to vanish. Sistahs began to realize that if they can work hard every day, bring home the bacon and raise a family, then they deserve a little hellified sex in their lives. No, make that a lot of hellified sex. They started telling men what they liked and disliked in the bedroom. They started teaching men how to please women. Most importantly, women learned how to please themselves.
Now is the time for the revolution!
The female sexual revolution!
As we embark on the new millennium,
it is time for all the real sexual divas
to stand up and be counted.
Embrace your freakiness.
Come out of the closets.
If your man can’t handle it,
trade his ass in for one who can.
Where does it all begin?
Who knows?
I know where the revolution begins. It begins with the illustrious sorors of ALPHA PHI FUCKEM SORORITY, INC. Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is ours.
—Soror Ride Dick
Alpha Phi Fuckem*
We are a sorority. You won’t find us on any college campus, though. Nor will you see us participating in step shows or collecting canned goods for the needy or having parties at a sorority house. We walk alone. We are as close as any sisterhood can get, and we would lay down our lives for each other. We are professional, well-educated women from all walks of life: bankers, lawyers, accountants, doctors, teachers. We are the proud sorors of Alpha Phi Fuckem Sorority, and we are here to stay.
We were founded over twenty years ago in a penthouse overlooking the Potomac River in Georgetown, an upper-class area of Washington, D.C. Most of the founding members have moved on, but they’re always around to guide us if ever we need their wisdom. A classmate at law school inducted me into the sorority eight years ago. Her name’s Patricia, and she’s my mentor, having been in the sorority a good two years before myself.
Currently, there are twenty-four active members of the Washington, D.C., chapter. Yes, there are other chapters. There are seven chapters altogether, with sistahs in about three or four other cities trying to form groups now. We have the D.C. chapter and others in New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, Detroit, Atlanta, and Miami. We even have an annual convention under the ruse of an African-American female business organization. At least, that’s what we tell the hotels where we stay.
It takes a significant amount of time to start a chapter because it takes a certain type of woman to be eligible for membership. What are the requirements? First of all, you have to be able to pass an initiation. Every aspect of your life is scrutinized and gone over with a fine-toothed comb. We have to all feel comfortable around you and feel you have that edge about you that sets you apart from other women. We have to feel you are deserving enough to participate in our erotic adventures.
Secondly, you must be trustworthy, secretive, and willing to take all the freaky shit we do to your grave. No one outside the sorority can ever know the things we do. You must be willing to lie to your husband or boyfriend or, in some cases, your girlfriend about where you’re going and what you’re doing. We all lie, but the sexual gratification we get as our reward is well worth it. We give a whole new outlook to the word creeping. The men we engage in our little escapades are not in the position to tell on us, mostly because they have no idea who the hell we are. We’re just faces and bodies, tits and ass, to them. However, the members of the sorority all know who the others are, and therefore, it’s important that the trust is there. We could all lose our reputations, possibly even our careers, if the existence of Alpha Phi Fuckem ever came to light.
Thirdly, and this is by far the most important qualification, you have to straight up love fucking. There is just no getting around that, but it goes beyond the normal spectrum of society’s definition of fucking. You have to be down for whatever, whenever, and with whomever. No limitations, no inhibitions, and no mental hang-ups are allowed. You must be a woman looking to take sexuality to another level.
Let me give you a quick overview of our mission. We have two “gatherings” a month. The first one is indeed a business meeting. Like I said, we’re all professional women. We have an investment club where we pool our resources and invest in certain stocks and bonds. It’s each member’s responsibility to bring detailed information to the meeting pertaining to at least one corporation and/or product. After all of the options have been discussed, we decide as a group what new investments we will undertake. We also discuss the profits and losses of the stocks already in our portfolio and decide whether to increase or decrease our shares. We have quite a portfolio established. It is a very lucrative investment for all those involved.
The second “gathering” of the month is what we affectionately call Freak Night. Each month, two members are selected at random to organize an activity for the month. The activity chosen must be both sexually stimulating and completely off the hook. Allow me to elaborate. For example, two months ago in January, Yolanda and Keisha decided to host a night of checkers. Yes, I said checkers. Checkers with a twist. Our two sorors rented a ski chalet up in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia, a couple hours drive from D.C. It was a huge chalet with six bedrooms, huge whirlpools, a great room, and a breathtaking view of the ski slopes.
It was snowing heavily when we arrived at the top of the mountain. We all met up at the chalet. Patricia and I rode up together in her Mercedes ATV. After all the young ladies had arrived, Yolanda and Keisha went over the agenda for the evening before the men showed up. As usual, the men my sistahs selected were right on point. We all have the same general taste in men, and that’s a good thing, because there are never any complaints. Where they found them, who knows? They were somebody’s sons, somebody’s husbands, somebody’s lovers, somebody’s babies’ daddies. Who cares as long as the sex is good!
The men arrived one, two, and three at a time. Some knew each other already, if they were “picked up” together. All of them were taken off guard when they entered the chalet. In every room throughout the house,
there were butt-naked women strategically positioned in front of a checkerboard, including myself. They were informed by the two hostesses, both of whom greeted them naked at the door, that they could challenge the lady of their choice to a game. Imagine their shock to arrive at what they were told would be a cocktail party and discover a virtual smorgasbord of pussy instead.
So play checkers we did, after asking all the men to get naked as well. They were all down because they knew something like that would probably never happen to them again. Maybe in a wet dream, but not during waking hours. We played checkers everywhere—at the dining room and kitchen tables, on the coffee table, on the hearth of the fireplace, on all the beds, on huge stuffed floor pillows. Everywhere. We chatted with the men about the typical things people would talk about at a cocktail party and served them drinks when they requested them so they could see our tits and ass as we walked across the room to get their drinks.
Their dicks were all degrees of hard and came in all different lengths and degrees of thickness. I love dick more than I love my next breath, so they were all mighty appealing to me. I played checkers with a guy from Baltimore. He offered his name. I declined to accept it and refused to give mine. Instead of calling each other by our real names when men are present, we call each other by nicknames like Soror Deep Throat, Soror Cum Hard, and Soror Ride Dick. Yeah, it’s silly but we’re not trying to impress anyone. It’s extremely vital that our real identities remain sacred.
We sat there in the snow-covered chalet for most of the evening playing checkers and shooting the breeze. Wet pussies were everywhere because all of us are multiorgasmic. Just looking at all the dick in the house made us horny as hell. Then came the highlight of the evening, and just in the nick of time too. One more game of checkers without getting some dick, and I was going to start fingering myself and eating my own dayum pussy.