Trinidad mode

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St Lucia Zouks reach summit clash with crushing win

2020.09.09 05:32 topcrickets804 St Lucia Zouks reach summit clash with crushing win

St Lucia Zouks reach summit clash with crushing win

https://preview.redd.it/m8j85tfsk1m51.jpg?width=594&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2e2547b96ff696a89ff8e6f26acdfe60e6eb2f98
St Lucia Zouks powered through to their maiden Caribbean Premier League final after handing the Guyana Amazon Warriors a crushing ten-wicket defeat in Trinidad. After having had stormed into the semifinals with four wins on the trot, the Warriors crashed out of the CPL in quite the anticlimatic fashion. For a side that was high on momentum, all they managed on Tuesday (September 8) was the second-lowest total in the CPL's history after being skittled for just 55 in 13.4 overs. St Lucia Zouks, in reply, needed just 4.3 overs to cruise past the finish line.
In the 27 balls they faced, the Zouks struck five fours and four sixes, much in contrast to the Warriors, who managed only two each through their innings. It all began with Scott Kuggeleijn, who was on the brink of a hat-trick after the fourth ball after Darren Sammy had asked the Warriors to bat. An edge from Brandon King followed by Shimron Hetmyer shouldering arms to one heading for the poles pegged the Warriors back. They lost wickets at regular intervals thereafter to the point of no return. Runs dried up and the innings was going nowhere, with only three batsmen reaching double figures, trapped in the web woven by the Zouks' spinners, who picked the remaining eight wickets as all the bowlers returned a wicket at least. Only opener Chandrapaul Hemraj stuck around until the 13th over for his 26-ball 25 other than which, the scorecard tells a sorry tale.
In a paltry chase and with one foot in the final already, Rahkeem Cornwall and Mark Deyal were ruthless in the chase. Cornwall smashed the otherwise economical Chris Green for two sixes over deep midwicket to set the tone in the first over. Deyal followed suit, as back-to-back boundaries in the second had Imran Tahir concede 13 runs too with the Zouks in cruise mode. The openers crossed the line soon after, completing the fastest chase in the history of T20 franchise cricket, with the second semifinal lasting just 17.1 overs.
Nothing but a win like that could, perhaps, give the Zouks the much-needed confidence to go up against the Trinbago Knight Riders in the final, who are unbeaten in the competition so far. After winning all their 10 group stage game, they annihilated the Jamaica Tallawahs by nine wickets in the semifinal to make yet another final appearance. In their first CPL final ever, up against three-time champions, can the Zouks halt the Knight Riders' juggernaut - a winning streak which has now stretched to 11?
Brief scores: Guyana Amazon Warriors 55 in 13.4 overs (Chandrapaul Hemraj 25; Mark Deyal 2-2, Zahir Khan 2-12, Scott Kuggeleijn 2-12, Roston Chase 2-15) lost to St Lucia Zouks 56/0 in 4.3 overs (Rahkeem Cornwall 32*, Mark Deyal 19*) by 10 wickets.
The news is transferred from Topcricc. Read more
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2020.07.20 09:47 Cicero1982 Your Pre Market Brief for 07/20/2020

Pre Market Brief for Monday July 20th 2020

You can subscribe to the daily 4:00 AM Pre Market Brief on The Twitter Link Here . Alerts in the tweets will direct you to the daily 4:00 AM Pre Market Brief in this sub.
Updated as of 5:00 AM EST
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Stock Futures:
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Monday July 20th 2020 Economic Calendar (All times are Eastern)
News Heading into Monday July 20th 2020
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It is up to you to judge the accuracy and veracity of these headlines before trading.
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2020.07.13 01:16 Cnf21 The United Nations Challenge Part 6

I'm back. Had other things going on so hadn't played in a while but the 3rd season is done now so here's what happened. Link to part 5 is below.
Part 5
Welcome back to this Crewe Alexandra career mode, where we' ll be using a player from every country in the game throughout the save. Another busy January and a panic buy in defence, the team were fantastic before the turn of the year so interest was always going to be there. 4 pre-contracts are coming in next season to beef up the side as our bench players were slacking in growth and will be revealed in due time.

Ins Outs
Joevin Jones (Seattle Sounders) - £2M Joaquin Luna (Admira Wacker) - £1M
Doan Van Hau (Heerenveen) - £1.6M + El-Munir Yarid Abetew (MKE Ankaragucu) - Loan
Malick Thiaw (Schalke) - £1.45M Zhu Chenjie (AZ Alkmaar) - £6m
Mo Eisa (Peterborough) - £2.1M David Browne (Cardiff) - 850k
Matthias Mayr (Youth) Serhat Tasdemir (Internacional) - Loan
Ketso Radebe (Youth)
PLAYER COUNT: 46/159
January: Huge month for Crewe as they face Burnley in the FA Cup and Spurs in the Carabao Cup semi-final. A classic FA cup tie ensued and finished 2-2, with Semple scoring and a last minute equaliser from hansson to take the replay to Gresty Road. In the replay, Burnley were just too strong for The Railwaymen and worthy 3-1 winners, showing how far the team still need to improve. Up next was Spurs. Incredibly Crewe go ahead through Semple and produce a gutsy performance, however a late goal from Kane meant it was all to play for in the 2nd leg. 2nd leg was always going to be tough in London, but Michael Higdon underestimated how tough it would be. Spurs were lethal, romping to the final with a 5-1 victory. What made it more incredible was that they only had 5 shots in the whole game. Despite this, no one would’ve predicted that Crewe would make the Carabao cup semi finals. The league form was all over the place for Crewe, with Fulham and Blackburn thumped but bottom of the league Barnsley produced a 3-1 win at Gresty Road. Struggling Swansea grinded out a draw with Higdon's men too, meaning that Fulham and Forest raced away from Crewe. They wouldn't come close to them again. Positive news though, fan favourite Comley earned himself the league's Player of the Month for December!
February: With Crewe out of both cup competitions, Higdon's men had the opportunity to aim for their third successive promotion in as many years. The cup competition exit must have taken it of the players though, as The Railwaymen managed a poor 2 points from 12 in this month. Points were shared with fellow playoff contenders Brentford (2-2) and mid-table Reading (1-1). However, back-to-back defeats occurred against Sunderland and Millwall and allowed the battle for playoff spots to heat up. This poor form meant that Crewe slipped from 3rd to 5th in four games.
March: March started with a goalless draw at West Brom, the first clean sheet since Chenjie's departure. Ironically, Mets was dropped for a retiring Russell as he had been in Michael Higdon's ear during the week about game time. Mo Eisa still hadn't scored for the club in 6 games, even after a 1-0 win at Huddersfield. Derby day came against Stoke, sitting 5 points above Crewe. Tackles flying in, 1-1 heading into the last 5 minutes of the game. Who steps up? Mo Eisa. His first goal for the club is a mazy run through the Stoke defence and lashing the ball into the net, sending Gresty Road wild! 2-1 the final score. The euphoria was short-lived though as a trip to league leaders Nottingham Forest ended in a 3-2 to the hosts. Crewe should finish the month with a home win against Cardiff, right? Wrong. David Browne, yes that David Browne, returned to Gresty Road and scored 2 in a 2-1 victory for Cardiff. He let the Crewe fans know what those goals meant to him by celebrating right in front of them. Cardiff were now gunning for Crewe's 6th place.
April: Better fortunes for The Railwaymen here, going undefeated at a crucial point in the league. A draw with 7th placed Leeds accompanied three grinded out 2-1 wins against Luton, Bristol City and Hull, with the Hull game solidifying a playoff place! Mo Eisa has been the star of the team since the Stoke game, giving Michael Higdon a headache when selecting two strikers out of Eisa, Hope, Semple, and Uldrikis. Eisa also earned a POTM nomination.
May: 2-1 seems to be Crewe's favourite scoreline, as this was the score in the final 2 games of the Championship season, against Preston and Wigan. A killer blow to the team occurred as Suslov was injured against Wigan, ruling him out for the season. Crewe managed to finish 4th, leapfrogging playoff opponents Middlesborough. The first leg was a classic playoff. Semple sneaks a rebound in before Wing equalised. Van Hau scored his 1st goal with a bullet header but in the dying minutes, Saville equalised. Expectations were high for the return leg, could Crewe do the unthinkable? Nope. Middlesbrough, embarrassed at home, were ruthless. Goals from Wing, Fletcher and Tavernier took Boro to a deserved play off final and ended Crewe's dreams of the glittering heights of the Premier League.
TOTS: James-Wildin
POTS: Semple
Top Scorer: Semple (26)
The Team:
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2020.07.08 19:45 ch_ch_cherry_bomb July 8th - TS4 Patch Day

There’s a patch released today, so if you can’t play without your mods, here’s a couple of ideas:
Once everything is back to normal and Mods are working, don’t forget to re-enable Script Mods Allowed and Enable CC/Mods in Game Options.
******

July 8th, 2020 Patch Notes

Update 07/08/2020 PC: 1.64.84.1020 / Mac: 1.64.84.1220 Console: Version 1.28
Hello Simmers!
We have a small but important update for you to address a couple of critical issues. As well as a “Coming Soon” feature announcement that you can find in The Gallery! We hope you will join in on the fun as we get closer to the 17th! Check out the Gallery for more details!
Happy Simming, SimGuruGnome Ft. SimGuruRusskii
And now onto the fixes:
Sims 4
Get Together
Discover University
Eco Lifestyle
Tiny Living
https://forums.thesims.com/en_US/discussion/978506/july-8th-2020-patch-notes
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2020.06.04 23:09 rccrisp The Canadian Indie Rock Canon #70: k-os – Joyful Rebellion

The Canadian Indie Rock Canon #70: k-os – Joyful Rebellion
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I have never been shy in saying that Canadian culture is predominantly white. It does explain a lot of what makes up the Canadian zeitgeist, whether it’s the unique Canadian redneck humor of Trailer Park Boys or Letterkenny or the fact that alternative rock probably trudged on a good extra five years in Canada when it had been mostly dead in the rest of the world. What’s presented to the world as generally consumed Canadian art does betray the multi racial makeup of this country. Cultures don’t get integrated in Canada, the “melting pot” is not this country’s philosophy and for a long period of time those immigrant groups, not being forced to be “Canadian first,” kept to themselves and in the process kept their culture within their communities. While the progress of time has started to see heavier integration and adoption of the various cultures that make up Canada this somewhat isolated communal existence was one of the few downsides of Canada’s much touted “multiculturalism.”
The effects of this extends to music and how it’s consumed. For years minorities have struggled to get a foothold into the music industry, outside factors aside, if for no other reason then it was difficult for them to find their niche. Even as hip hop began to explode on a global scale homegrown artists despite their talents found it difficult to gain any traction even within Canada itself. Most are part of immigrant group, while some Blacks in Canada are descended from escaped American black slaves the majority are immigrants predominantly from the Caribbean. Their influence on Canadian cities is tremendous, using a personal example my wife likes to make fun of the fact that half the time I say “tings” instead of “things.” However despite this heavy urban cultural influence many artists failed to really make something out of it. The likes of artists such as The Dream Warriors and Maestro Fresh Wes felt more like anomalies and instances of lightning in a bottle than some sort of sustained movement. When hip hop was getting huge in the 90’s in America few Canadian artists reaped the benefits and even their success seemed more CanCon related than serious pushes from record labels to get these artists known.
This frustration with the music industry manifested itself during the 2005 Get Up festival when veteran and criminally underrated Toronto based rapper Kardinal Offishal smashed a guitar on stage during his set. Originally may saw this as a direct diss to k-os himself, then known in promotional photos to always have an acoustic guitar on his back, but Kardinal clarified this in later interviews as a show of frustration to the Canadian music industry and Canadian radio that favors homegrown rock artists over those of other genres. And yet even if it was directed at k-os would he would have a compelling argument. Ever since his debut k-os had mixed in various styles into his own brand of hip hop. His first hit single “Heavy Only Knows” is a laid back and somber acoustic affair. His songs were being played on alt rock radio. Was he getting an unfair leg up because he decided to play a guitar?
However the idea of k-os without his eclectic sound seems just as much a betrayal to the artists itself. Born Kevin Bereton k-os grew up with his family in Toronto, his father then a Jehovah’s Witness minister to various chapters in the Greater Toronto Area. When he was in grade three his family moved back to their native Trinidad where k-os steeped himself in music to deal with being away from Canada. By his teen years k-os returned to Canada with his mother, his father remaining in Trinidad as a computer engineer for BWIA, Trinidad’s national airline. His family settled in Whitby, Ontario, a suburban town just east of Toronto where her pursued his music ambitions based on his own insecurities. He found performing music attracted people towards him making him feel “powerful and secure.” During this time k-os became a fan of a variety of music, ranging from New Order, Depeche Mode, Rx Bandits, Michael Jackson, Boogie Down Productions, Slick Rick and A Tribe Called Quest. His adopted stage name was intended to be a less aggressive pseudonym styled after KRS-One and stands for “knowledge of self” though k-os admits early on it stood for “Kevin’s Original Sound.”
k-os eventually attended Carelton university for one year to appease his father. He lasted one semester. He returned to Toronto where he attended York University. There he met Nigel Williams, a member of the experimental hip hop collective Pocket Dwellers who encouraged k-os to pursue music. In 1993 he released his first single “Musical Essence” and even produced a music video of the song with a VideoFACT grant. The song was produced by two friends, Clarence Gruff and Kevin Risto (Risto would later be part of the producing duo Midi Mafia who produced 50 Cent’s single “21 Questions.”) k-os shortly after dropped out of university to focus on music. After gaining a bit of traction with “Musical Essence” k-os was approached by NBA player John Sailey who became his first manager. During this time he was invited on the 1995 Hip Hop Explosion tour which featured other Canadian hip hop acts like Rascalz and Ghetto Concept. With the assitance of Sailey and American songwriter Raphael Saddiq k-os began work on his debut album, releasing his second single “Rise Like The Sun” during this time. However his increasing dissatisfaction with his work was what lead to him taking a hiatus from the music industry. According to k-os during this period of the late 90’s he had written multiple albums but found the music to be “pretentious and derivative” and he was still “trying to figure out who he was.” He continued to live with Sailey in LA until he was invited to live in Vancouver by Red1 of Rascalz. k-os was renewed by his time in Vancouver and was even asked to have a guest verse of the Canadian classic hip hop track “Northern Touch” which featured the hottest Canadian hip hop acts at the time but was unable to due to previous commitments. He made his first live performance appearance in years when he performed at North by Northwest in support of Vancouver band Namedropper.
In 2002 k-os would finally release his first full length album Exit, an album that would present’s k-os’s propensity to genre mash. The first single “Heaven Only Knows” began to garner heavy rotation on Much Music and the album became a critical hit in both Canada and worldwide. The critical success of Exit lead to a number of awards as well as a collaboration with the Chemical Brothers. Still despite all this sales of Exit didn’t hit the marks such an album was expected, only selling 40,000 units in America and even less in Canada, 27,000 total albums sold. It seems like the joke that the album was named Exit because it would be his final one would come to be true.
By 2004 k-os debunked those statements by releasing his followup album Joyful Rebellion. While it could be argued that a lot of what was explored musically on Exit those areas on Joyful Rebellion are looked at through a different and a sense of refinement. k-os has stated that the general theme of the album is a general dissatisfaction with the current state of hip hop. On opening track “Emcee Murder” he’s about as blunt he’s ever lyrically on the album, flamenco guitar and orchestral string add a billowing quality to words like “Holding my raps, Olden is golden and black, Extolling virtues of rap, With monkeys riding my back, I see them falling, Doing commercials and balling, I'm not a hater but she's closing the gate” to what it admittedly a fairly standard mid 00’s take on the commercialization of rap.
While it’d be incorrect to call Joyful Rebellion a sad album there’s a heavyheartedness that exists within the songs that both betray the joyful in its title and the more breezy musical influences k-os looks to explore. “Crucial” is a prime example, it’s deeply seeped in classic breezy reggae influences but it’s used in a way to describe k-os’s own inability to find himself in the Toronto music scene an eventually ends with k-os with the words “Change words, Ch-Change burns, We came first, That's why we're in chains, And there's no one to blame it on” before a squealing rock guitar introduced in the bridge takes us out. “Dirty Water,” featuring fellow Canadian Sam Roberts, mixes new wave elements and Sade influences that would be the perfect backdrop for penthouse city watching if it didn’t contain lyrics on unrequited love and insecurity over ones lower income background.
Still the album finds moments to be a bit lighter and has great success with them. There’s a reason why “Crabbuckit” was such a big hit in Canada. It’s a jazzy foot stomper, something you wouldn’t expect in hip hop in 2004, or Canada, or well anywhere on the mainstream musical landscape at the time but despite its title being a reference of k-os’s own struggle (the notion that crabs in a bucket keep trying to claw their way up only to push each other down) it keeps the preaching to a minimum and would rather sing about having a good time in Toronto on a Friday night. “B-Boy Stance” might start with the eye rolling “It’s so hard to stay authentic” however the song revels in its old school hip hop beats, sound very much like the old school influences k-os has cited and reminds that while k-os might preach and posture he is anything but humble, his words reminding everyone that on top of his “traditional” musical influences he is a more than serviceable MC. The highlight of this album is naturally when all these elements coalesce and find a near perfect song for them to exist on. “Man I Used To Be” is veritable sonic feast for the ears, a bit of Michael Jackson influenced “Billie Jean”-esque music, complete with falsetto “ohh-ohhs.” While k-os struggles with idea of crossover success and the changes he’s made since “coming up from the underground” we’re treated with an epic take 80’s R&B infused pop, all leading up to the climax where strings swirl after k-os lists out all the things he’s done to try to anchor as he repeats the chorus with a heavy dose of heart, “I tried it, I couldn't find it, Now I just wanna get back to me, Awe baby, hoo hoo, Back into the man I used to be.”
Even in the years after k-os’ success home grown hip hop continued to struggle to find its footing in the Canadian musical landscape. While some successes like Nova Scotia’s Classified did pop up there really wasn’t a huge boon of hip hop in Canada until the like of Drake and The Weeknd showed up. And it’d be tenuous at best to say k-os had a hand in those artists ascension (though it’s fun to note a young Drake appeared as guest on a TV live performance special k-os did for Much Music) and on top of that k-os after Joyful Rebellion seemed more in tune with Canada’s rock scene than its hip hop one (k-os made contributions on Broken Social Scene’s self titled album.) Still if nothing else Joyful Rebellion marked a moment where a Canadian hip artists was able to sustain their momentum and popularity beyond a single song or even single album, Joyful Rebellion would go on to be a platinum selling album, k-os would continue to get hits and release music and it seemed that Canadians were ready and willing to adopt one of their own hip hop artists. Did it take a guitar slung over his back and dropping Tragically Hip references to get there? Maybe, but it’s the small steps that are needed to make the big leaps.
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(Tentative) Schedule
June 8: Dream Warriors - And Now The Legacy Begins
June 15: Tanya Tagaq - Animism
June 22: Peaches - The Teaches of Peaches
June 29: Rufus Wainwright - Poses
Archive
Archive Link
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2020.05.01 07:30 the14thaccount THROWBACK: Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/3)

The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
[Part 3]( https://www.reddit.com/Erotica/comments/ga1ggv/nicki_minaj_called_me_part_33/)
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2020.05.01 07:28 the14thaccount THROWBACK: Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
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2020.04.28 09:17 the14thaccount Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/3)

The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
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2020.04.28 09:02 the14thaccount Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
[14](https://www.reddit.com/rhonnie14FanPage/)
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2020.04.24 11:01 Mercuryo-hare Mercuryo General Questions

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2020.03.27 09:35 rhonnie14 Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/3)

Link To Part One
The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
14
submitted by rhonnie14 to JustNotRight [link] [comments]


2020.03.27 09:34 rhonnie14 Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
Link To Part 2
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submitted by rhonnie14 to JustNotRight [link] [comments]


2020.03.23 06:19 rhonnie14 Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
Link To Part 2
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2020.03.23 06:19 rhonnie14 Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
Link To Part 2
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2020.03.20 08:28 rhonnie14 REPOST PREMIERE: Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 1/3)

I had no intention of ever going back. All these months later, and the Nicki Minaj Experience still haunted me. Still lingered in my dreams and nightmares. Ash and I were only there for a few weeks but what felt like years given the sexual mania.
I felt exhausted from sex both pleasurable and taboo. All of it enjoyable even through the pain. Of course, by the time Nicki let us go, I was more than ready to leave her L.A. pink palace behind for our cozy apartment in Albany, Georgia. Even if Ashley wasn’t. And even if I never did get a biography out of it.
Being a newly-freed sex slave did present some problems. No longer could I rely on the Queen spoiling us. Soon, my book money ran dry. My series of odd jobs from 911 trainee to 7th grade English teacher were predictable disasters. Here I was back to being a deadbeat horror writer. My small, loyal fanbase glad to see me churning out stories… Even if I was struggling to make any real cash. And on top of everything else, my ass was still sore heading into December.
That being said, there were some positives to come out of this most bizarre encounter. I was finally in great shape… From skinny to muscular thanks to Nicki’s physical demands. I’m sure Ashley appreciated it… Not to mention the versatility in the bedroom Onika Maraj coerced out of me.
So yeah, Ashley and I’s sex life was better than ever. More adventurous than ever… And even the NoSleep inspired by our Nicki trip collected somewhat of a cult following. But I was still broke. Still unemployed. And while Ashley could seamlessly blend back into her upper-level HR gig, I felt empty not supporting her as best I could. As best as I should. I was still the clown boyfriend forever chasing horror stardom.
Then there were the flashbacks… Those surreal wild weeks with Nicki forever embedded in my mind. The group sex, the pegging. Everything stayed a movie in my memories.
Of course, no one believed me. Rather my NoSleep story became more famous for its erotic potency than scares. Who knew being held captive by a beautiful talent like Nicki could be seen as torture? Then again, I guess I’d have felt the same until actually living it. Until actually surviving the sex.
With Christmas on the horizon, I was gonna try to move on. Neither the booze nor writing had helped me escape. So fuck it, maybe the holidays would. Only Nicki’s songs were a siren call I couldn’t ignore. Especially since my girlfriend was such a Barb. Every time “Super Bass” or “Bed” swept through me, I was whisked off to the Minaj mansion. Back to that exciting, eerie mess.
And then came the phone call. All on an inconsequential Tuesday afternoon. I was home alone, stuck on our living room couch when the L.A. area code drew me in. I lowered my can of Miller Lite. Knowing exactly who it was…
Conflicted, I stared at my laptop screen. At the latest horror story likely to go nowhere… All while the phone’s buzzing stayed persistent. Tempting me. Finally, I just had to give in.
Nicki’s cackling immediately greeted me. Already she was in Roman mode. “Rawneee,” said that faux British accent.
Surrounded by Ashley’s psychedelic tapestries, I leaned back on the couch. Gazed at our many framed photos from trips to all places random and bizarre… Even one we took with Nicki during that fateful stay.
“Hey,” I replied with a forced chuckle. Struggling to keep calm, I stole another sip of beer. “It’s, uh, been awhile.”
“It’s been too long, baby!” Nicki yelled, her beaming voice and personality shining through. “I’ve been following you but it’s not quite the same.”
“What, you’re stalking me?” I joked.
Like a soothing pink buzzsaw, Nicki’s laughter erupted once more. “Not stalking… I was just thinking about what you wrote.”
“Well, I haven’t heard from any lawyers yet-”
“No, it’s not that! Trust me, I would’ve taken care of your ass by now if that was it.”
“I can only imagine...”
“But I liked it,” the Queen said. Her voice was getting lower. Restrained by real emotions.
“Well, I appreciate it-”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to call you,” she continued. “I wanted to talk to you about it some more in L.A.”
Intrigued, I ran a hand through my dark brown swoop. The bangs at the mercy of my nerves. “I don’t know, man. After last time…”
“Come on, Rhonnie!” said Nicki’s sharp response. “We all enjoyed last time.”
I didn’t say a word. Deep down, I couldn’t… The trip was fun after all. Dark, wild, and mysterious. Nothing short of memorable. And certainly fun for both Ash and Nicki.
“You know I’m right,” Nicki continued. “I wanted to discuss your story some more. Your writing‘s phenomenal as always. You know I love your style, man!”
The compliments struck me hard… I couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I appreciate it.”
“Look, I’ll buy your ticket, you can stay here a few days.”
I hesitated. My green eyes looked toward our pictures. Within the frames, there was Ashley matching my 5’8 slender frame. Her smooth brown skin matched by those gorgeous Trinidad features: an elegant smile, smoldering stare, and immense strength to spare. She was Nicki without the fame, filters, or touch-ups. And considering Ashley’s personality and her own well-endowed chest, I wasn’t complaining. Even with the Queen herself on the line...
“Rhonnie, you know you want to,” Nicki said, her voice persistent but not pleading. Nicki was too confident to beg. Not that she ever needed to. Not with her power.
Finally, I let out a drunken sigh. “Look, last time was great and all, but we got… we got fucking sidetracked.”
“So?” Nicki teased.
“I don’t know...”
“Look, things won’t get that crazy. Ashley won’t be there so I won’t be on you as much-”
I sat up straight, uneasy. “What do you mean she won’t be there?”
Nicki’s soft laugh felt hollow to my nerves. “It’s gonna be like last time! Nothing against her, I love that bitch!”
“I’m aware…”
“We both looovvvee you, Rhonnie,” Nicki added. “But we got business to take care of. Just the two of us, the writing. You don’t see me bringing you and all these other guys up here when I be recording.”
Simultaneously savoring and dreading the memories, I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “Yeah but we saw how that shit turned out. There was no book-”
“It turned out just fine,” Nicki gushed.
I went silent. The reality is Ash had her fun. She trusted Nicki, and I knew she’d let me go…
Here in this inner war, I did the only thing I could do: I finished my beer.
Nicki chuckled. “There’s no reason not to come, Rhonnie. Not like your brokeass has anything better to do!”
I let my own laughter collide into hers. As if we were already there together. Already buzzed. “Well. You got me.” I crushed the Miller Lite can.
“Just bring that ass here!”
A prisoner of Nicki’s, I faced the laptop. The story I was still working on.
“We’ve got some writing to do!” Nicki teased. “We’re gonna work on this together. No distractions, excuses… None of that stuff me and Ashley wanted last time...”
From here, I could envision Nicki Minaj in “normal” mode. Well, normal for this persona. Probably a tight dress, curly long hair. All business and beauty.
“This is just about your stories, Rhonnie,” Nicki said.
“Just my stories?” I questioned.
“Amongst other things…” Nicki replied. “But mostly your stories. You Ashley’s bitch, man. What kinda bitch you think I am taking my homegirl’s bitch?”
Flashing a smile, I nodded. “Fuck it. I’m down.”
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch.”
The nerves returning, I sifted in my seat. “Well, wait, can I like call you back?”
Instead of reassurance, I got that Wicked Witch of Trinidad laugh. “Call me back!? You so funny, Rhonnie!”
“What…”
“This is a burner phone, bitch! I find you, nobody finds me!”
Such a line should’ve scared me. Especially given our history… and Nicki’s wild instability. But somehow, I found it amusing. Fuck it, even cute.
That day, I got the okay from Ashley. In fact, she was excited. A carnal glint crept through her when I told her about the trip. About going back to Nickiland.
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Ashley beamed. Lying in bed together, I felt her hands squeeze tighter to mine. Ash’s enthusiasm even overshadowing the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. “And she’s paying you! Oh my God, that’s amazing, Rhonnie!”
I adjusted my oversized glasses. The classic Dahmer frames. “Yeah, she called me. She said she missed me.”
Reminiscent of Nicki, Ashley’s personality could change quick. Maybe not as severe… but still extreme. Just from mentioning Onika Maraj, Ash had zipped from exhausted HR boss to drooling fangirl... And now she was all over me.
“Oh, you gotta go, babe!” Ashley yelled. “She obviously likes you! Oh my God, this could be your big break!”
Feeling her tremble in my grip, I watched Ashley lean in closer. Her smile omnipresent. Her body in flames. Possessed by the Queen.
“Yeah, I guess I should go,” my deep voice finally said.
“Just tell her I said hey!” Ashley then gave me a kiss.
“I will.” Still I struggled to match her joy. Or Nicki’s eager euphoria for that matter.
“That’s so cool!” Ash rambled on. “My next vacation, we’re going back!”
“We will, babe.”
Deranged panic struck Ash. She grabbed her fit chest. The chunky stomach only she could see. “Shit, just let me lose this tummy first!”
I hugged her close. “What stomach, weirdo?”
Ashley still squeezed her stomach. Literally grasping at skinny straws to prove her point. “I can’t let her see me like this! Aw, fuck!”
Reassuring Ashley, I kept my arm around her as I pushed her hands away. “Stop it, babe! You’re skinny.”
Ashley turned toward me. The idiotic insecurities still obvious. Even on the model’s frame she had.
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that” I said. I clutched her arm, clinging to the muscles she’d been working on. “You a fit bit.”
Finally, Ashley gave me that gorgeous smile. The one that’d held me captive for almost three years now.
“You and Nicki both got nothing to worry about,” I added. “You’re my Queen.”
Snapping into aggression, Ashley draped her arms around my neck. A lover’s noose. “You bet your ass,” she said in a sly, seductive tone. Her grin got bigger. Yet another personality change was forming… but one I was happy to see.
“I like the sound of that…”
“Fuck, I wanna go back!”
“We will-“ I started.
Like an uncaged animal, Ash lunged in, running her hands up and down my chest. Her touch swift but firm. Feeling along my minor abs coming in… “We had so much fun last time, Rhonnie!” she yelled. We gotta go!”
I watched her hands slide further down. One toward my ass, one toward my crotch. The sheer mention of Minaj had sent my girlfriend into a frenzy… Ash a Barb forever…
“I can’t wait to go back to Nicki’s!” she continued.
I cracked a smile. “I mean we can-”
With a ferocious flourish, Ash slammed me on to the bed. The soft landing somehow got my adrenaline going. My body all hot.
Pinning me there, Ashley smirked upon me. My girl literally so high above me. Not to mention stronger… I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I was fucking dominated…
Ash lunged in toward my face. This was the most sultry and smooth she’d been since L.A. Not to mention the most confident. Her hungry gaze hovered over me. “Here,” she teased. She tore off my shirt in a steamy split second. “Let me send you off on that vacation… the right way!” Ashley added a Nicki purr.
I chuckled. “Sounds amazing…”
“On your knees!” Ashley shouted.
“What-“
Showing off her strength, Ashley flipped me over. Put me right on my stomach. Literally on my knees.
Caught up in the moment, I couldn’t talk. I can’t lie, Ashley was getting me hot. Especially when she did all the work... When it was her turn to channel her rap idol.
I stole a look over at the T.V. At all the drag queens watching Ashley and I’s intense intimacy.
Ash put one hand around my erect dick, the other on my ass. She leaned in behind my ear. No chance at a whisper. “Let me get you ready for the Queen!” she cackled.
By December tenth, I was on the plane. Gone from chilly Georgia to ever-sunny L.A. The few calls and texts from Nicki were vague... Playful but cryptic. All I knew was someone was supposed to pick me up at LAX. I’d asked if it was Kellan but Nicki liked to ramble over my questions…
“I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a manic mantra. “We’ll take care of you, Rhonnie.”
Rather than the casual warmth I encountered last time, I was greeted by two cold guards. A black man and woman. Both of them beyond attractive in their stylish dark suits and even darker sunglasses. Both of them beyond swoll.
They didn’t say a word. Didn’t smile. Hell, they didn’t even hold my one carry-one bag for me. Instead, I followed them out to a tank of a red SUV. Our short drive feeling longer from both tension and traffic.
None of my casual banter worked. Nor did my goofy grin. Instead, these two were stoic statues. Bodyguard caricatures straight out of a bland action movie. With even less character and charisma than Nicki’s many wax figures.
Through the tense silence, I leaned back. Awkward. The only noise naturally the radio’s Nicki Minaj marathon.
Finally, the familiar iron-pike gate opened. And then we descended upon the Minaj mansion. I kept talking to Ash on the phone, her excitement obvious even through text.
Holding my carry-on, I stepped out. My every move under the watch of a million cameras. They were bigger this time around. Cinematic surveillance...
I followed the bodyguards past the psychedelic pillars. The pink Lamborghini. Right up to the front porch where the Queen herself awaited.
Under Ashley’s guidance, I made sure to dress well. Tight khakis and my cherished green polo. No Dahmer glasses. Ash was sure Nicki would approve.
The fading twilight sun still couldn’t suppress Mrs. Majesty’s radiance. Standing between two towering tiki torches, she had the poise of a Pagan Goddess. The strength of Joan Of Arc. The defiance of Cleopatra.
And best of all, she was herself in the moment. Onika. No gaudy jewelry, her long hair hanging down. Not much make-up. She wore an ugly Christmas sweater featuring her smirking Bitmoji. Her green cargo pants a baggy fit. The type of hipster gear that’d gone out of style in 99 yet worn by Nicki as if she were stealing the red carpet. She was Goddamn beautiful.
I could see Nicki’s sly smile. The glint glowing in those brown eyes.
Now just a few feet away, I stole a glance at the house’s array of Christmas decorations. The wreaths both green and pink. Big bulb holiday lights lining up and down the roof. And yes, a black Santa Claus. Having no snow or cold didn’t hurt the Christmas spirit here. Not on Nicki’s watch.
Nicki waved. “Hey, strangerrr…” she teased.
I started for the steps. “I made it.”
Before I could get any further, the guards ambushed me. Polite enough, I suppose… If not fast and furious. Both the man and woman patted me down in thorough fashion. All to the tune of Nicki’s snorting laughter.
“Really…” I deadpanned.
Nicki walked up to me. “I had to up security, boo.”
Eager hands grasped my ass and dick. I flashed a glare at the guards. Their slick smiles.
“We know how you horror writers are,” Nicki continued.
Equal parts polite and cold, the female guard snatched my carry-on. I watched her stocky frame stand beside the man. Neither of them saying a word.
“We gotta be careful,” Nicki added. She stopped right in front of me. That pretty face a mask for her many warped ideas. “But I’m glad you’re here, Rhonnie. Honestly.”
I nodded at the guards. “Apparently, they are too.”
“I mean can you blame them…” Flashing those pearly whites, Nicki encircled me. Her steps slow, seductive.
Intrigued, I stood in place. Watching a fire spread across Nicki’s expression. A hunger. Nicki was undressing me with her eyes… Admiring me like I was part of her personally curated gigolo lineup. One I was sure she had around somewhere… But I wasn’t complaining.
“Me and Ashley got you looking good,” Nicki continued. “You dress so nice!”
I watched her every move. Relaxing in the perfect weather.
“And you been working out!” Nicki remarked. She stole a grab at my ass. A snug squeeze. “Mmm, got that donk I see!”
“Yeah, I’m finally getting abs…” I said in a humblebrag.
The Nicki gaze honed in on my chest. “I can tell!” She draped an arm around my broad shoulders. Leaned in real close. “Let me get a hug.”
She pulled me toward her. Not so much a hug but suffocation. Nicki’s immense strength no longer a surprise to me… Not after the last trip.
With my celebrity crush just inches away, I tried to suppress the desire. The body heat. God knows those security guards were eating this up… The two of them an enthralled audience. Especially once Nicki started feeling along my chest.
Nicki closed her eyes. Pleasure joining her carnal craving. “I swear you’d be my Zac Efron or Bieber.”
Flattered, I faced Nicki. “I like to think young Kyle MacLachlan…”
Nicki burst out laughing. Uproarious but not sadistic. “From Twin Peaks! Blue Velvet.” She stared me up and down again. Taking her sweetass time. “Oh shit, you ain’t lying!”
“You got good taste,” I remarked.
“Indeed.” With a flirtatious touch, she pushed aside my hair. The swoop. “But I always wanted a Zac Efron up in here.”
I struggled to keep my cool… Goddamn, it was tough.
“So tell me, Rhonnie,” Nicki began. Her smile latched onto me. “Who do I look like?”
I smirked. “Cardi B.”
Laughing, Nicki gave me a shove. “Bitch!”
Playing along, I shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“Yeah, but not her sorryass!”
“Well, if you want me to be honest, I’ll go Thandie Newton.”
Much better… Nicki nodded her head in agreement. “I like that.” She glided in closer toward me. Her female gaze beaming. “See, you know you’re shit too.”
Keeping my distance, I looked up. Saw how nighttime now descended upon us. “I had a crush on her back in the day…”
“Like you did with me, right?”
I stole a glance over at the front door. At the wreath smorgasbord. “Yeah,” I replied as I faced Onika. “But that was back in the day. Back when I looked like shit…”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Slow but steady, Nicki’s hand brushed against my pants. “Not with that face.”
No matter how hard I could control myself, I couldn’t control biology. I couldn’t control my dick.
Embracing her power and sex appeal, Nicki’s hand strayed toward my erect outline. “Or that D…” she teased.
Yeah, I was conflicted. But somehow, I managed to hold her back. “Okay, uh, maybe we should go inside.”
Nicki just kept that mischievous smile. “What? Our chemistry is that dead to you.” The British Roman Zolanski accent took over. Campaigning for an Oscar, Nicki threw her hands up. The hammy acting in hyperdrive. Given my last visit, I had no idea if she was just being funny… or giving in to madness. “Oh no, darling! What we had was so BUE-TEE-FULL…”
Cringing, I avoided all eye contact. But I had nowhere to turn. The guards only gave me glares… And in the darkness, the Christmas lights further basked Nicki in a most glorious glow.
Lunging forward, Nicki squeezed my shoulders. “You carn’t throw it away, darling!”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re something else…”
But Nicki wouldn’t stop. The histrionics consumed her. “Oh, darling! Darling-”
In my hand, my cell phone vibrated to life. A shrill siren interrupting Nicki’s performance.
Like an offended actress, Nicki went quiet and glowered. Gone was the cheer. The charismatic wackiness. In came the dark side of her dominance.
I looked down at Ashley’s text message: I love you! Be safe!
“Hold on!” I told Nicki. Responding out of both love and duty, I began typing up a reply: I love you t
Moving quick, Nicki snatched the phone out of my hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
I came face to face with Nicki. The Queen back in her confident element. Back to that grin. “I thought you remembered, Ronald,” she said, her voice back to its precise perfection. Strolling over by the stairs, she twirled the phone. “No cell phones when you’re writing with me…”
I followed her between those warm tiki torches. The gateway to Heaven and Hell. “Can I at least text Ashley back?”
Scoffing, Nicki confronted me. “Now why do that when she knows I’ll take care of you.” Showing theatrical flair, Nicki pulled out the collar of her sweater and dropped the phone straight in. Right into the strongbox of her huge boobs.
“Nice…”
Nicki’s triumphant smile got bigger. Given her sheer size, who knew what else was hiding in those breasts?
“Real classy,” I added.
The familiar snorting laughter hit me. Not that Nicki’s laughter bothered me… regardless of its hideous sound. “Man, you and I know Ashley loves you. She told me!”
“Yeah, but I can’t even text her…”
Nicki gripped my hand. “You’re a writer. You’re self-sufficient!” She started pulling me toward the mansion. Pushed her hair aside to face me. “Just like me.”
We entered her fortress. Nothing had changed too much. Nicki memorabilia was still scattered about. The home bars were glorious. The walls conquered by various portraits of black icons both in entertainment and civil rights movements. The mansion just clean and colorful.
Then I realized how many more cameras there were. Their watchful eyes stayed on me. Glued to my every move. No different than Nicki, I thought...
Of course, the Christmas decorations were even wilder in here. Heavy red stockings hung above an infrared fireplace. The towering Christmas tree wore ornaments gaudier than Nicki’s VMA wardrobes. And I’ll be damned if the living room didn’t have a miniature tree that was nothing more than a tall marijuana plant.
But fuck, it was cold. Shivering, I followed Nicki through the living room. “Can you put on the heat, please?”
Nicki stopped and threw up her arms. “Bitch, it’s Christmas!”
The henchwoman jammed the carry-on straight into my chest, startling me.
“You know I’m gonna do it big this time of year!” Nicki continued.
Recovering from the collision, I watched the two guards go into a small room. One overran by more Christmas lights. From here, I could see the mini dancefloor, a turntable. A narrow staircase tucked away in the back. The Queen had apparently added her own club since the last time I was here. And right now, we had a Yuletide takeover. Whitney’s “Do You Hear What I Hear” reverberated from that room. And all through the house...
I watched those guards go up the stairs. Disappearing further within this castle… But not until the woman flashed me a knowing smile. A flirty wink.
With unhinged pleasure, Nicki squeezed my ass once more. “Come on, I gotta show you more!”
Annoyed, I backed away from her. “Shit, how have you not been MeToo’d yet!”
Nicki let out an uproarious laugh. She pointed a finger at me. Her laughter the wail of a smug banshee. Albeit, a pretty one...
I flashed a smile. “Naw, I’m serious-”
“You think I need to get on the MeToo shitlist!” Nicki joked. She took a confident step toward me. Pointed at her vibrant heart. “Me? Like what about Cardi and Katy Perry, Rhonnie! I don’t see them bitches getting MeToo’d!”
“Okay, you’re right-”
Nicki motioned toward me. “And what about you, Rhonnie. You cute but you’re a weird fucking horror writer, man. Writing weirdass sex shit about me.”
I couldn’t fight back. I even cringed. That barb stung… But at least Nicki’s smile had softened the blow. “Even if what I wrote was true?”
Undeterred, Nicki grabbed my shoulder. “We’ll get to that.”
I gave her a confused look. Only Nicki could be so cryptic and seductive...
Before I could respond, Nicki entered manic mode. She snatched my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “We’ve gotta get moving! There’s so much I wanna tell you.”
Clinging to my carry-on, I saw more booze. An arsenal of holiday snacks. Antique snowman cookie jars… More of Nicki’s Yuletide cheer. Rather than blue or white, I was in for a pink Christmas.
Whitney’s majestic voice followed us. The dancefloor’s stereo Nicki’s personal carolers.
“You’re not kidding about this Christmas stuff…” I joked.
“I told you!” Nicki replied.
An eager reindeer leading the way, Nicki guided us into a hallway. A familiar one, sure. I recognized the bedroom doors. The gym. And of course, the fateful “Club Staff” at the end of the hall: Nicki’s personal wax museum. The scene of my wildest sex… Not to mention Nicki’s own dark, twisted, dominant fantasies.
Nicki parked us at “my” bedroom door.
Keeping the conversation flowing, I leaned against the wall. Still recovering from the flight. The returning memories. “I’m guessing you’re gonna do a Christmas album next?”
Nicki chuckled as she opened the door. “I can’t. You know me, rhonnie14.” She smiled at me. “Maybe when I’m all old and washed-up.”
“So never then?” I said, unable to control my flirting.
“Preeeciseleee…” Nicki pulled the door open and waved inside. “After you, boo.”
I entered. Unable to escape the holiday playlist vortex. Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”
The room was preserved in the way a grieving parent never changes their deceased kids’ bedrooms. Everything was the same. The horror posters, the movie books. My own desk. Pure Rhonnieworld.
Nicki followed in behind me.
Stopping by the desk, I faced her. “Happy late Birthday by the way,” I said, showing no snark at all. Only sincerity.
Nicki didn’t know how to react. Her body trembled from sentimental emotions rather than excitement. “Aww, thank you…” . “No problem.”
Nicki’s mischievous grin then returned. And so did her ogling. “You owe me some cake…” She stole an enthusiastic glance behind me.
Laughing, I waved her off. “Whoa, cool it!” Yet I couldn’t help but feel delight…
Nicki pointed toward the carry-on. “Just drop your shit and take a shower! I don’t want you with no germs and shit after that nastyass flight!”
“Man, you are paranoid…”
“Cautious,” Nicki corrected.
Now in the bright bedroom light, I got a better view of Chun-Li, Roman, or whatever you wanted to call her. Whatever personality she was today. But the fact is Nicki looked better than ever. Again, still only 5’2 but somehow stronger. She had the heart of a lion, the cool composure of Pam Grier. Sure, the huge breasts and booty were flaunted even in the baggier clothing… but just a few days after her thirty-seventh Birthday and Nicki was somehow still in her early prime.
Nicki pointed toward the hallway. “And try to stay out of the staff room this time.”
The bizarre memories flashed through my mind. I couldn’t hide the smirk. “I’ll try-”
“Don’t go in there unless I tell you.”
“I understand.” Feeling more relaxed, I placed the bag on the ground. Somehow, the room soothed me. Nicki was one Hell of a decorator. “Say, uh, where’s Kellan at?” I asked.
Playing up the melodramatics, Nicki gave me a weird look. “Who!?”
“Kellan. The guy from Trinidad.”
All I got was silence from Nicki. Uncomfortable silence.
Annoyed, my hands went wild. Rhonnie now channeling those same melodramatics. “He was here last time with me, you, and Ashley. You know… Like.” I pointed toward my crotch.
Nicki cracked up. “Oh yeah, I remember! Yeah, he went back to Trinidad.”
“Oh, okay...”
Nicki stepped right up to me. “He said he misses you.”
Cornered by two smiling Nickis, one on smooth skin and the other on hideous wool, I chuckled. “Yeah, I bet…”
“Oh, come now,” Nicki teased. She ran a hand along my arm. “We had fun. The four of us.”
I stayed distant. Or at least pretended to. Not an easy task with the Queen being this… aggressive. I pulled away from her. “But like… what about your husband? I mean…” Now feeling paranoid myself, I stole a glance toward the open doorway. “Is he like fucking here?”
Nicki cracked up. “Zoo? You scared or something, Rhonnie?”
The pressure was getting to me. Both from Nicki’s beauty and this cold Goddamn mansion. “I mean I’m not an idiot,” I said. “I saw you got married which… makes this whole thing even weirder.”
Nicki leaned in closer. “But you still came.” She caressed my face. “Didn’t you?”
I held up my trembling hands. Restraining the rap Goddess. “Yeah, but I thought we were just gonna talk?”
Yet another change happened. Nicki The Comedienne appeared… “Oh, right, to talk,” said a voice going to its deepest, driest depths. And of course, she was talking with her hands. “That’s the only reason I came, Nicki…”
Yeah, she was imitating me, alright. “Nice…” I remarked.
Nicki gave me a slight shove. Given her sneaky strength, I still stumbled back against the desk. “Look, I brought you here for a reason, Rhonnie,” Nicki said, her voice back to its normal tone. “This is about the writing, not just sleeping around and having fun.”
“Okay, that’s all I was asking.”
“And for the record, Kenneth’s not here, alright. So don’t get all scared and tip-toe around like you got a stick up your ass!”
“Dick up my ass?” I deadpanned.
Laughing, Nicki gave me another push. “Stop playing!”
“Alright, so like Zoo’s cool with this?”
“Duh!”
Less worried, I leaned back against the desk. “I mean damn, can you blame me-”
Nicki waved me off. “Naw, he ain’t the jealous type. Not even with your Efron-looking ass.”
“Glad to know!”
Nicki looked me up and down. Simultaneously allurred and amused. “Seriously, you look young as fuck… you sure you’re twenty-eight? I’d be scared I done fucked a High School Musical bitch or something. Y’all’d be MeTooing my ass for statutory rape.”
Basking in Nicki’s female gaze, I stood up. “Well, that sure as Hell didn’t stop you last time.”
Once more, Nicki cackled. Maybe a genuine reaction… or a chance for her to fall against my chest. “You’re so crazy, Rhonnie! Oh my God!” Then all of a sudden, she got quiet. She backed away in an instant. Not from fear but compulsion... Nicki’s mind off to the races again.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing.” The Queen pointed toward the closet. “Just change clothes after you shower, alright!” She started to leave.
“Okay, cool.”
Stopping in the doorway, Nicki faced me. “Meet me in the studio when you’re done. You know the drill.”
I flashed her a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan-”
Before I could finish, the door slammed shut in one swift slam. I stood there in the tense silence. Nicki was gone.
Link To Part 2
14
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2020.03.17 08:39 rhonnie14 PREMIERE: Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/4 or 2/3) WEIRD WARNING

Link To Part One
The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
14
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2020.03.11 07:28 RemixBeat Heavy Hits [10-March-2020]

2 Chainz – I’m Different [Isaac Jordan 75-98 Transition] [Clean] All 98 2 Chainz – I’m Different [Isaac Jordan 75-98 Transition] [Dirty] All 98 3OH!3 – Back To Life [Clean] 6B 77 7 Carlo Runia – Think About Ya [Original Mix] 11A 123 50 Cent FT. Kidd Kidd, Kendrick Lamar – We Up [Clean] 10A 103 50 Cent FT. Kidd Kidd, Kendrick Lamar – We Up [Dirty] 10A 103 Ace Hood FT. Meek Mill – Goin Down [Clean] 4A 74 Ace Hood FT. Meek Mill – Goin Down [Dirty] 4A 74 Akon FT. David Guetta – That Nana [Main] 1A 128 Alan Braxe & Fred Falke – Intro [Clean] 4A 124 Alan Braxe & Fred Falke – Intro [HH Clean Intro] 4A 124 Alan Braxe & Fred Falke – Intro [HH Clean Short] 4A 124 Alvaro – Make The Crowd Go [Isaac Jordan Edit] 7A 128 Armin Van Buuren FT. Fiora – Waiting For The Night [Extended Version] 3B 130 Armin Van Buuren FT. Fiora – Waiting For The Night [Radio Edit] 3B 130 August Alsina FT. Trinidad James – I Love This Shit [Clean] 1A 124 August Alsina FT. Trinidad James – I Love This Shit [Dirty] 1A 124 Avicii – X You [Original Version] 6A 126 Avicii – X You [Radio Edit] 6B 126 Baauer – Harlem Shake [HH Clean Intro] 3A 70 Baauer – Harlem Shake [Original Mix] 3A 70 Baby Bash FT. Problem – Dance All Night [Clean] 7A 70 Baby Bash FT. Problem – Dance All Night [Dirty] 7A 70 Bad Bunny – Yo Perreo Sola [DJ Ronald Hype Intro] [Dirty] 9A 97 Bad Bunny & Yaviah – Bichiyal [Dirty] 3A 94 Bad Bunny & Yaviah – Bichiyal [DJ Ronald Hype Intro] [Dirty] 3A 94 Beanie Sigel & Peedi Crakk FT. Ol’ Dirty Bastard – When You Hear That [Dirty] 4A 96 Beanie Sigel & Peedi Crakk FT. Ol’ Dirty Bastard – When You Hear That [EwONE! Hype Acapella In – Beanie Only] [Dirty] 4A 96 Beanie Sigel & Peedi Crakk FT. Ol’ Dirty Bastard – When You Hear That [EwONE! Hype Acapella In – ODB Only] [Dirty] 4A 96 Beanie Sigel & Peedi Crakk FT. Ol’ Dirty Bastard – When You Hear That [EwONE! Hype Acapella In] [Dirty] 4A 96 Beyonce – Ring The Alarm [Isaac Jordan Acapella Out] 8A 85 Beyonce – Ring The Alarm [Isaac Jordan Edit] 11A 85 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Redemption Song [Clean] 9B 116 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Redemption Song [Johnny Cash & Joe Strummer Cover] [Clean] 6B 114 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Redemption Song [Ziggy Marley Remix] [Original Mix] 9B 118 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Acapella] 9B 110 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Clean] 2A 129 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Funkstar Deluxe Remix] [Extended Mix] 9A 130 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Jesse Rose Bootleg] [HH Clean Intro] 2A 124 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Jesse Rose Bootleg] [HH Clean Short] 2A 124 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Jesse Rose Bootleg] [Original Mix] 2A 124 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Sun Is Shining [Yes King Remix] [Original Mix] 8A 73 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Waiting In Vain [Acapella] 4B 79 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Waiting In Vain [Clean] 4B 79 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Waiting In Vain [Ituana Cover] [Clean] 1B 120 Bob Marley & The Wailers – Waiting In Vain [Jim James Remix] [Original Mix] 4B 79 Bobby Darin – Splish Splash [Clean] 8B 74 Brandy – Almost Doesn’t Count [Double A Remix] [Clean] 5A 111 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [Clean] 10A 97 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [HH Clean Mixshow] 10A 97 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [Instrumental] 9A 97 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [Isaac Jordan Double Time Intro] [Clean] 10A 97 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [Isaac Jordan Double Time Intro] [Dirty] 10A 97 Bryson Tiller – Don’t [Isaac Jordan Sample] [Clean] 10A 1 Busy Signal – Yow [Clean] 9A 95 Busy Signal – Yow [Dirty] 9A 95 Calvin Harris FT. Ellie Goulding – I Need Your Love [Isaac Jordan Edit] 5B 125 Cam’Ron – Murder Game [Clean] 12A 72 Cam’Ron – Murder Game [Dirty] 12A 72 Cash Out FT. B.o.B. – Exclusives [Clean] 12A 126 Cash Out FT. B.o.B. – Exclusives [Dirty] 12A 126 Cassie FT. Trina, Lola Monrie – All Gold, All Girls [Remix] [Dirty] 8A 100 Cedric Gervais – Molly [Quintino Remix] [Isaac Jordan Edit] 8A 126 Chimbala & Noriel – Con Chapa [Clean] 7B 130 Chip Charlez – PARTY SHOT [Dirty] 11A 98 Chris James, Arty – Together We Are [Original Mix] 7B 128 Chrisette Michele – A Couple Of Forevers [Clean] 4B 118 Ciara FT. Missy Vs. Oliver Heldens & Mesto – 1, 2 Step [Jose Knight The G.O.A.T Mashup] [Clean] 4A 126 Clyde Carson FT. The Team – Slow Down [Clean] 5A 101 Clyde Carson FT. The Team – Slow Down [Dirty] 5A 101 Dada Life – So Young So High [Dillon Francis Remix] 12B 73 Daddy’s Groove – Stellar [Club Edit] 11A 128 Daddy’s Groove – Stellar [Radio Edit] 11A 128 David Banner – Like A Pimp [Isaac Jordan Edit] [Clean] 2A 72 David Banner – Like A Pimp [Isaac Jordan Edit] [Dirty] 2A 72 David Banner – Like A Pimp [Isaac Jordan Synth-In] [Dirty] 2A 72 Delacey FT. G-Eazy – Cruel Intentions [Dirty] 10A 90 Depeche Mode – Heaven [Matthew Dear Vs. Audion Vocal Mix] 3A 100 Dimitri Vegas, Like Mike – Wakanda [Original] 4A 130 DJ D-Tale & DYNE FT. Leftside – Outta Control [Dirty] 9A 104 DJ D-Tale & DYNE FT. Leftside – Outta Control [Instrumental] 9A 104 DJ Katch FT. Jason Caesar, Shane Eli – Plus One [Dirty] 6A 72 DJ Katch FT. Jason Caesar, Shane Eli – Plus One [HH Dirty Mixshow] 6A 72 DJ Katch FT. Jason Caesar, Shane Eli – Plus One [Instrumental] 6A 72 DJ Katch FT. Jason Caesar, Shane Eli – Plus One [R&B Mix] [Dirty] 6A 72 DJ Katch FT. Jason Caesar, Shane Eli – Plus One [R&B Mix] [Instrumental] 6A 72 DJ Scream FT. Future, Wale, Ludacris – Cee-Lo [Clean] 4A 68 DJ Scream FT. Future, Wale, Ludacris – Cee-Lo [Dirty] 4A 68 Drake – Started From The Bottom [Clean] 5A 86 Drake – Started From The Bottom [Dirty] 5A 86 Drake – Started From The Bottom [HH Clean Mixshow] 5A 86 Drake – Started From The Bottom [HH Dirty Mixshow] 5A 86 Drake – When To Say When [EwONE! Intro-Outro] [Clean] 4A 85 Drake – When To Say When [EwONE! Intro-Outro] [Dirty] 4A 85 Emeli Sande FT. Kendrick Lamar – Next To Me [Remix] [Main] 8A 95 Eminem – We Made You [HH Clean Intro] 6A 114 Eve FT. Gabe Saporta – Make It Out This Town [Clean] 8A 100 EwONE! – Back In A Day [Hype Acapella Loop] [Clean] 12B 95 EwONE! – How We Do [Hype Acapella Loop] [Clean] 5A 100 Example – Perfect Replacement [Extended Mix] 4A 130 Example – Perfect Replacement [Radio Edit] 4A 130 Fatboy Slim – Right Here Right Now [Coyu Remix] 8A 124 Firebeatz & Schella – Dear New York [Isaac Jordan Edit] 9A 128 Flo-Rida – Let It Roll [Main] 9A 127 Florida Georgia Line – Blessings [Clean] 12B 89 Florida Georgia Line – Blessings [HH Clean Intro] 12B 89 Franky Rizardo & Roul & Doors – Elements [Hardwell & Dannick Remix] [Isaac Jordan Edit] 7A 128 French Montana FT. Nicki Minaj – Freaks [Clean] 9A 97 French Montana FT. Nicki Minaj – Freaks [Dirty] 9A 97 French Montana FT. Nicki Minaj – Freaks [HH Clean Mixshow] 9A 97 French Montana FT. Nicki Minaj – Freaks [HH Dirty Mixshow] 9A 97 French Montana FT. Nicki Minaj – Freaks [Instrumental] 9A 97 Fulanito – Guayando [Luzquinos Transition 105-150] [Clean] 5A 105 Future – Gone To The Moon [Dirty] 12A 130 Future – Gone To The Moon [HH Dirty Mixshow] 12A 130 Future FT. Casino – Karate Chop [Clean] 12A 67 Future FT. Casino – Karate Chop [Dirty] 12A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [Acapella] 1A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [Clean] 12A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [Dirty] 12A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [HH Clean Mixshow] 12A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [HH Dirty Mixshow] 12A 68 Future FT. Lil Wayne – Karate Chop [Remix] [Instrumental] 12A 68 Gorillaz FT. Fatoumata Diawara – Desole [Clean] 9A 68 Griffter – In My Soul [Clean] 8A 126 Griffter – In My Soul [Original Mix] 8A 126 Guaynaa – Rompe Rodillas [Dirty] 9A 92 Hardwell – Spaceman [Carnage Festival Trap Remix] [DJ Katch Acapella In-Outro Edit] 2A 70 Hot Chelle Rae – Hung Up [Clean] 12B 93 Hot Chelle Rae – Hung Up [HH Clean Mixshow] 12B 93 Hot Chelle Rae – Hung Up [Instrumental] 12B 93 Ivan Gough FT. Georgi Kay – In My Mind [Axwell Remix] [Isaac Jordan Edit] 5A 128 J Balvin – Rojo [DJ Ronald Hype Intro] [Clean] 1B 86 J Balvin – Rojo [HH Clean Intro] 1B 86 J Cole FT. Miguel – Power Trip [Clean] 3A 100 Jay-Z – Song Cry [Clean] 5A 86 Jay-Z – Song Cry [Dirty] 5A 86 Jay-Z – Song Cry [EwONE! Intro] [Dirty] 6A 85 Jay-Z FT. Mary J. Blige – Can’t Knock The Hustle [EwONE! Acapella In-Outro] [Clean Short] 9A 95 Jay-Z FT. Mary J. Blige – Can’t Knock The Hustle [EwONE! Acapella In-Outro] [Dirty Short] 9A 95 Jay-Z FT. Mary J. Blige – Can’t Knock The Hustle [EwONE! Original Sample Intro] [Clean Short] 8A 95 Jay-Z FT. Mary J. Blige – Can’t Knock The Hustle [EwONE! Original Sample Intro] [Dirty Short] 8A 95 Jay-Z FT. Melissa Morgan – Can’t Knock The Hustle [Fool’s Paradise Remix – EwONE! Chorus Only] [Clean] 8A 95 Jay-Z FT. Melissa Morgan – Can’t Knock The Hustle [Fool’s Paradise Remix – EwONE! Intro-Outro] [Dirty] 8A 95 Jay-Z FT. Melissa Morgan – Can’t Knock The Hustle [Fool’s Paradise Remix] [Dirty] 8A 95 Jerry Smith – Reladinha [Dirty] 2B 91 Jim Jones FT. Swizz Beatz – Green Light [Clean] 7A 93 Jim Jones FT. Swizz Beatz – Green Light [Dirty] 7A 93 Johnny Nash – I Can See Clearly Now [Clean] 7A 124 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [Acapella] 7B 72 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [Clean] 7A 72 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [Dirty] 7A 72 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [HH Clean Mixshow] 7A 72 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [HH Dirty Mixshow] 7A 72 Jonn Hart – Bands On Bands [Instrumental] 7A 72 Jump Smokers – Hands Up [Radio Edit] 2A 128 Jump Smokers Vs. Blackout – Hands Up [Jump Smokers Extended Mix] 2A 128 Justin Bieber FT. Drake – Right Here [Clean] 3A 92 Kash Doll – Wake Up [Dirty] 2A 77 Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us [HH Clean Mixshow] 2B 128 Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us [Main] 2B 128 Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us [Show & Tell Radio Edit] 2B 128 Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us [Show & Tell Remix] 2B 128 Klaas – We Are Free [Bodybangers Remix] 8A 128 Klaas – We Are Free [Original Mix] 8A 128 La Misma Gente – Muneco De Papel [Clean] 5A 88 La Misma Gente – Muneco De Papel [HH Clean Intro] 5A 87 Leo Muller – The Acid Test [That French Dude Break Only Edit] [Clean] 10B 118 Lorde – Royals [Double A Remix] [Clean] 7A 85 Loud Luxury & CID – Nights Like This [Radio Edit] 5B 126 Mack Maine – Kobe Or Ginobili [Clean] 12A 73 Mack Maine – Kobe Or Ginobili [Dirty] 12A 73 Mack Maine – Kobe Or Ginobili [HH Clean Mixshow] 12A 73 Mack Maine – Kobe Or Ginobili [HH Dirty Mixshow] 12A 73 Mack Maine – Kobe Or Ginobili [Instrumental] 12A 73 Maejor Ali FT. Juicy J, Justin Bieber – Lolly [Clean] 4A 76 Maejor Ali FT. Juicy J, Justin Bieber – Lolly [Dirty] 4A 76 Maejor Ali FT. Juicy J, Justin Bieber – Lolly [HH Clean Mixshow] 4A 76 Maejor Ali FT. Juicy J, Justin Bieber – Lolly [HH Dirty Mixshow] 4A 76 Maejor Ali FT. Juicy J, Justin Bieber – Lolly [Instrumental] 4A 76 Maes FT. Booba – Blanche [Dirty] 9A 128 Maroon 5 – Daylight [Joe Maz Remix] 10B 130 Marshmello & SVDDEN DEATH – Crusade [Dirty] 7A 70 Martin Solveig Vs. Fat Man Scoop – Night Out [DJ Katch Acapella Intro Edit] 1A 128 Meek Mill – WOOO [Isaac Jordan Sample] [Clean] 11A 1 Miguel – How Many Drinks [Main] 5A 87 Murda – Doga [Dirty] 2A 108 Natti Natasha – Me Estas Matando [Clean] 3B 76 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Acapella] [Clean] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Dirty] 4A 99 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix – DJ Noise Acapella In] [Clean Short] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix – DJ Noise Acapella In] [Clean] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix – DJ Noise Acapella In-Out] [Clean Short] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix – DJ Noise Acapella In-Out] [Clean] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix] [Clean] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix] [HH Clean Intro] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix] [HH Clean Short] 4A 100 Nice & Smooth – Hip Hop Junkies [Remix] [Instrumental] 4A 100 Nicki Minaj – Purr [Isaac Jordan Sample] [Clean] 7A 1 Nio Garcia FT. Bryant Myers, Alex Rose, Arcangel, Amenazzy & Young Blade – Mantecado De Coco [Remix] [Dirty] 12B 90 No Doubt – It’s My Life [Isaac Jordan Quick Cut] 11A 126 One Direction – Kiss You [Clean] 12B 90 One Republic – If I Lose Myself [Clean] 10B 70 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Bills & Hurr Club Remix] 9A 126 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Dave Aude Club Remix] 9B 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Dave Aude Dub Remix] 9B 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Dave Aude Instrumental] 9B 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Dave Aude Mixshow] 9B 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Flexican & Siro Club Remix] 9A 125 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Flexican & Siro Instrumental] 9A 125 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Gregori Klosman Instrumental] 9A 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Gregori Klosman Remix] 9A 130 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Jakwob Club Remix] 9A 70 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Moto Blanco Club Remix] 9A 128 Paloma Faith – Picking Up The Pieces [Rack & Ruin Club Remix] 9A 70 Passion Pit – Carried Away [Tiesto Remix] 6B 128 Pink – Just Give Me A Reason [Clean] 9B 95 PSY FT. 2 Chainz, Tyga – Gangnam Style [Diplo Remix] [Dirty] 10A 73 Pusha T FT. Rick Ross – Millions [Clean] 9A 68 Pusha T FT. Rick Ross – Millions [Dirty] 9A 68 Rauw Alejandro FT. Anuel AA, Natti Natasha, Farruko & Lunay – Fantasias [Remix] [Clean] 3B 94 Rich Gang FT. Future, Tyga, Meek Mill, Mystikal – Fly Rich [Clean] 10A 72 Rich Gang FT. Future, Tyga, Meek Mill, Mystikal – Fly Rich [Dirty] 10A 72 Rick Ross – Box Chevy [Clean] 4A 71 Rick Ross – Box Chevy [Dirty] 4A 71 Rihanna – Pon De Replay [Omar Duro & Sico Vox Remix] [Dirty] 11A 100 Rihanna – Pour It Up [Isaac Jordan Edit] [Clean] 11A 134 Rihanna – Pour It Up [Isaac Jordan Edit] [Dirty] 11A 134 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Ants Bootleg] 2A 128 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Justin Prime Instrumental] 2A 130 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Justin Prime Radio Edit] 2A 130 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Justin Prime Vocal Mix] 2A 130 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Justyle Remix] 2A 72 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Mikael Wills Bootleg] 2A 128 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Mikael Wills Radio Edit] 2A 128 Rihanna FT. David Guetta – Right Now [Playground Bootleg] 2A 128 Rihanna x Kanye West – Flashing Diamonds [Isaac Jordan Blend] 10A 92 Robbie Dupree – Steal Away [2nd Nature Remix] [Isaac Jordan Edit] 7A 128 Robosonic – The Edge [Isaac Jordan Edit] 8A 128 Rochy RD & Ceky Viciny – Vengo De La Pobreza [Oyeme A Mi] [Dirty] 9A 122 Rocko FT. Future, Rick Ross – You Don’t Even Know It [Clean] 2A 126 Rocko FT. Future, Rick Ross – You Don’t Even Know It [Dirty] 2A 126 Sade – Paradise [DJ Grant Reggae Chop] [Clean] 4A 100 Sander Van Doorn & Julian Jordan – Kangaroo [Isaac Jordan Edit] 6A 128 Scissors & Flipoov – All I Want Is You [Extended Mix] 5A 124 Scissors & Flipoov – All I Want Is You [Radio Edit] 5A 124 Sean Finn – Riders On The Storm [Crazibiza Remix] 9A 126 Sean Finn – Riders On The Storm [Luigi Rocca Remix] 9A 128 Sean Finn – Riders On The Storm [Original Mix] 9A 128 Sean Finn – Riders On The Storm [Peter Gelderblom Remix] 9A 128 Sean Paul – Big Tings [Clean] 8A 95 Sean Paul – Big Tings [Dirty] 8A 95 Shirley Bassey & Kenny Dope – Light My Fire [Kenny Dope Remix] [Clean] 7A 93 Sidney Samson & Martin Garrix – Torrent [Original Mix] 11A 128 Sidney Samson FT. Will.I.Am – Better Than Yesterday [Isaac Jordan Edit] 7A 128 Sky Blu FT. Mark Rosas – Pop Bottles [Clean] 4A 128 Snoop Dogg x Beyonce – Sweet Seduction [Isaac Jordan Blend] 2A 122 Snoop Lion FT. Mavado, Popcaan – Lighters Up [Clean] 8A 74 Snoop Lion FT. Mavado, Popcaan – Lighters Up [Dirty] 8A 74 Steve Angello & Third Party – Lights [Isaac Jordan Edit] 11A 128 Sultan & Ned Shepard & NERVO FT. Omarion – Army [Club Mix] 8A 127 Sultan & Ned Shepard & NERVO FT. Omarion – Army [Radio Edit] 8A 127 Surf Mesa FT. Emilee – ily [Clean] 10A 112 T.I. FT. Lil Wayne – Ball [DJ Katch Acapella In-Outro Edit] 5A 95 Taylor Swift – 22 [Main] 9B 104 Taylor Swift – I Knew You Were Trouble [Skillz Mixshow Edit] 2B 77 Teddyson John – I Pray [Clean] 10B 104 Teenage Mutants & Frankyeffe – Run [Original Mix] 9A 130 Tegan & Sara – Closer [Radio Edit] 8B 69 The Dream FT. Fabolous – Slow It Down [Clean] 11B 123 The Gap Band – You Dropped A Bomb On Me [Isaac Jordan Edit] 9A 125 Third Eye Blind – Semi-Charmed Life [Clean] 9B 102 Third Eye Blind – Semi-Charmed Life [Dirty] 9B 102 Third Eye Blind – Semi-Charmed Life [HH Clean Intro] 9B 102 Third Eye Blind – Semi-Charmed Life [HH Dirty Intro] 9B 102 Tiesto & Swanky Tunes FT. Ben McInerney – Make Some Noise [Original Mix] 7A 126 Trinidad James FT. Reija Lee – Females Welcomed [Clean] 7A 70 Trinidad James FT. Reija Lee – Females Welcomed [Dirty] 7A 70 Tujamo – There It Is [Isaac Jordan Edit] 2B 127 Tuxedo FT. Parisalexa – Vibrations [Clean] 9A 104 Usher – Go Missin [Clean] 4A 69 W&W & Ummet Ozcan – The Code [Original Mix] 6A 128 Waka Flocka FT. Gucci Mane – 50K [Clean] 4A 72 Waka Flocka FT. Gucci Mane – 50K [Dirty] 4A 72 Wale FT. Tiara Thomas – Bad [Clean] 11A 114 Wale FT. Tiara Thomas – Bad [Dirty] 11A 114 Wale FT. Tiara Thomas – Bad [Instrumental] 11A 114 Will.I.Am FT. Britney Spears, Diddy, Hit Boy, Lil Wayne, Waka Flocka – Scream & Shout [Remix] [Clean] 6A 130 Will.I.Am FT. Britney Spears, Diddy, Hit Boy, Lil Wayne, Waka Flocka – Scream & Shout [Remix] [Dirty] 6A 130 Wiz Khalifa FT. Akon – Let It Go [Clean] 11A 71 Wiz Khalifa FT. Akon – Let It Go [HH Clean Mixshow] 11A 71 Wiz Khalifa FT. Akon – Let It Go [Instrumental] 11A 71 Wolfgang Gartner – Nuke [Isaac Jordan Edit] 4A 128 Yo Gotti – H.O.E. [Heaven On Earth] [EwONE! Original Sample Intro] [Dirty] 8A 84 Young Nudy – Blue Cheese Salad [Dirty] 12A 73 Young Swift FT. Akon – I Like [Clean] 2A 70 Young Swift FT. Akon – I Like [Dirty] 2A 70 Young Swift FT. Akon, Young Jeezy – I Like [Remix] [Clean] 2A 70 Young Swift FT. Akon, Young Jeezy – I Like [Remix] [Dirty] 2A 70 Young Swift FT. Akon, Young Jeezy, Jim Jones – I Like [Extended Remix] [Dirty] 2A 70

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2020.03.03 04:54 rhonnie14 I Was Hired To Write Nicki Minaj’s Biography

I write horror stories. I live and breathe the genre. Writing scary prose isn't just a hobby for me: it's my passion.
So imagine my surprise when I was asked to write a biography. No, not for Stephen King or Edgar Allan Poe. But an authorized biography for the one and only Nicki Minaj. Yeah, I was shocked too when I first read that mysterious e-mail.
The offer even said I'd be given full credit... not to mention insane pay. And all I had to do was just give the L.A. phone number a call...
To my surprise, a familiar female voice answered. The unmistakable charismatic and playful tone I'd heard on hit radio since 2010. My college celebrity crush: Nicki. And she sounded overjoyed to be talking to me! Her contagious laughter sweeter than John and Paul's harmonies.
Nicki told me she loved my stories. She praised the scares, the twists, prose, even the Goddamn similes. And most of all, she was impressed by the diversity of my casts.
Here I was standing alone in my girlfriend Ashley's apartment. Just finding out Nicki Minaj had been my cheerleader all along...
She didn't stop there either. The authorized biography meant I'd get the chance to spend time with the artist herself. A one-way ticket to Beverly Hills she was paying for!
"Thank you!" I said to her. "This is gonna be so amazing. My girlfriend loves you! Ashley's gonna lose her shit when she gets to meet you!"
"Well, we can all meet when the book's done."
Slight disappointment sunk into me. "When it's done?"
"Yeah. We can't have no distractions, Rhonnie. We gotta sacrifice!"
Hesitant, I leaned against the kitchen counter. "So I'm going by myself?"
"Look, my man ain't gonna be there either," Nicki continued. "It's just gonna be us geniuses. That's how I like to work."
Of course, my cynical dark passenger kept me from being too overjoyed. But deep down, I wanted this to be true. My future of being a full-time, professional writer looked set. Nicki Minaj had rescued me from obscurity. And in turn, she likely paved the way for Ash and I's inevitable marriage.
Once Ashley got home, I shared the insane news. She was happy. Like a tween ready to meet her favorite pop singer, she broke down in excited screams.
"Oh my God, Nicki called you!" Ashley yelled. She gave me a ferocious bear hug. "See! I told you you'd be famous!" Her hands ran wild over me. "You're such a great writer, babe!" Then Ashley's passionate kiss hit.
Like Nicki, Ashley too had Trinidad heritage. She had the smooth dark brown skin, the piercing eyes. Perfect teeth. And a nice figure considering she was all natural. Her flexible black hair could be amazing in a bun, straightened, or just left alone in its wavy perfection. But most of all Ash had personality to spare. A kind soul full of fiery life and strength.
On the other hand, I was a weird, skinny guy. Not tall at all. Messy straight brown hair and big green eyes. Even at 27, I still told I looked like a high schooler. Never in a complimentary way either. I always though my awkward good looks and goofy smile made it easy for people to walk all over me... Thank God, I had Ash to look out for us.
To my surprise, Ashley wasn't even upset about not being able to go with me.
"Oh, I trust Nicki!" she said behind a radiant smile. "If she says she'll get me there, she will." Ash caressed my face. "Just get the book done, babe. Make me and Nicki proud."
On Thursday afternoon, Ashley gave me a kiss at the airport. Then I was off to Beverly Hills.
There was no warm welcome party at LAX. All I got was a tall man in a psychedelic shirt and tight purple pants greeted me. Too chill to be a chauffeur or gofer. He held up a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it.
"What's happening, man?" he said to me in a Caribbean accent.
Even behind his thick red sunglasses, I could tell he was a friendly dude. A dark-skinned Trinidadian named Kellan. Muscular and in his late-20s, Kellan had the carefree charisma of a cool college kid. Rather than enduring any awkwardness, we bonded immediately.
To my relief, he showed me all the info on his phone. Nicki's directions for what she wanted him to do. Then together, we rode off.
The L.A. weather was perfect. But of course, the traffic wasn't. The ten-mile trip took us a solid hour. All while Kellan kept his radio on the Top 40 station.
"So are you like related to Nicki?" I asked.
"Naw, man," Kellan chuckled. Calm and collected, he navigated the streets of L.A. like a pro. "We're just friends." He faced me. "We're from Trinidad, you know how that goes! We all get along."
Soon, we traveled through a valley of gaudy mansions. And the further we drove, the more isolated the mansions got.
We pulled up the long driveway. And sure enough, this star had a star home base. A three-story brick mansion. Nicki's pristine yard featured more intriguing artwork and statues than a meticulous museum.
The tall-iron pike gates slammed shut behind us. Surveillance cameras were everywhere, but none of the security took away the welcoming aura.
Kellan parked next to a pink Lamborghini. Awestruck, I stepped out. Regardless of the classy vibe, you could tell The Minaj Mansion had character. The psychedelic pillars certainly showed off the Nicki touch. The mansion her own personal playland.
"Hi!" a cheerful voice called out.
My excitement only intensified. Especially once Kellan led me closer and closer to the front door. Closer to that exuberant voice.
There Nicki was standing on the porch. A cross between creative lunatic and Disney princess, the Queen wore a flowing green dress and layers of exotic jewelry. Messy pink hair and a lack of make-up a nice grungy addition to her elegant outfit.
"You made it!" she said through that tough accent.
Before I could even reply, Nicki gave me a warm hug.
"It's nice to meet you," I managed to say through the anxiety.
More radiant than a Golden Age movie star, Nicki confronted me. The smile of perfect teeth somehow soothed my nerves.
"Well, Hell, it's nice to meet you too!" Nicki responded. She motioned toward me. "Look at you. Rhonnie Fordham in my house!"
Inside, there were the framed albums and gold records. Minaj memorabilia in addition to collectibles from all her favorite musicians. I couldn't stop gazing at the many Trinidadian arts and crafts.
Together, the three of us cruised through the spacious kitchen and living room. We walked into a narrow hallway. An antique chandelier hung over the marble floor. I saw only three doors. Close to us were two doors standing side-by-side, the last one all the way down the other end of the hall.
I followed Nicki to the guest room. Colorful walls greeted me. Windows provided a nice view of Nicki's spacious yard. There were Marlon Brando and James Dean posters. A wooden bookshelf showcased a vinyl record player and dozens of horror movie books.
Nicki latched her playful eyes on to me. "It's all yours, Rhonnie."
"I really appreciate it," I said. I got ready to toss my bag on to the comfy bed.
Nicki snatched my wrist in a tight grip. "Oh no, you ain't dressing like that."
Grinning, I watched her hand my bag over to an amused Kellan. "What do you mean?"
Nicki motioned toward my current outfit: the purple tee and sloppy khakis. "Naw, you cute, but you ain't dressing like that here, boo."
Chuckling, Kellan took my bag out into the hallway.
Nicki pulled me in closer. "We gonna get you newer gear, Rhonnie. Some fresh shit!" She opened a closet.
A treasure chest of clothes stared back at us. The walk-in closet was chock-full of nice shirts, khakis, bathrobes, jeans, etc.
At Nicki's insistence, I changed into a better outfit. Tight-fitting khakis and a red tee. She said I looked even better... I couldn't help but think I looked like a cast-off from one of her videos. Then again, the clothes were Nicki's vision so I needed to appease her.
From there, Nicki showed me the room next door: my personal gym. Besides the equipment and flatscreen, there was a huge mirror in the center of the room.
"You're gonna stay in shape in my house!" Nicki said, overexcited. "You're gonna be looking good on my watch, Rhonnie."
"I'll do my best," I replied. I looked over at our reflections. I gotta say, Mrs. Majesty had dressed me up pretty well... She looked like she was even checking me out...
The Queen cackled. "My castle, my rules! Remember that, boo!"
I followed her out toward the hallway. Helped by the giant mirror, I really got a strong view of Nicki's pure physicality. Her beauty. At only 5'2, Nicki felt stronger. She just looked more powerful. Hell, even taller...
Outside of leading lady looks, Nicki had the poise of a star athlete. A model's face with a fighter's ferocity. And while 36 wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination, she looked preserved at a permanent peak. Flawless, smooth brown skin. And a contagious energy. A sharp nose to match a rebellious spirit. Her eyes so big and vibrant. Of course, there was the bodacious booty, not to mention the bouncing boobs. But to me, Nicki's allure ran deeper than the superficial. Besides a pretty celebrity, she was also a mad scientist in rap. An eccentric, creative mind like myself. And ultimately, regardless of the stage name and surgeries, she was still Onika Maraj.
Loud music startled me. Jumping, I turned and looked down the hall.
"Super Bass" blared from behind that last door. The consistent chorus of "Boom, badoom, boom, boom..." like a rap air raid.
"You alright?" Nicki asked me.
I flashed her a grin. "Yeah. Like who all lives down there?"
Nicki gave the room a dismissive wave. "That's where the staff goes. Probably just Martha and Cookie messing around."
"Cookie?"
Nicki snorted with laughter. "She's the cook!" Eager, she grabbed a hold of my hand. "Come on, I'll show you where we'll be working."
So out of all the home bars and gardens of pink flowers, Nicki's sanctuary here was the home recording studio. The room was small but too cozy to be claustrophobic. Nicki's notebooks of many lyrics ran wild across a desk.
And there, we talked. Just Nicki and I along with an occasional guest appearance from the drunk Kellan. Midnight drew closer. And as the beer and wine increased, so did our banter.
"So Ashley was okay with you coming out here?" Nicki asked in a sly tone.
Smirking, I watched her take another sip of the red wine. "Yeah, well, she's a big fan."
Nicki purred with glee. "So she ain't gonna get jealous..."
"She's your biggest fan."
"Hmm..." Nicki leaned in closer. "That might be you pretty soon."
An hour later, I was back in the guest room. Wearing my oversized glasses and one of the green bathrobes Nicki had given me, I talked on the phone with Ash.
"How is it?" Ashley asked, her voice full of fangirl excitement. "Does she really have a pink garden?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I just miss you."
"Aww," Ashley said.
"I'm serious, babe," I said. "One fucking night and I already feel lost without you..." Melancholy creeping in, I stole a glance toward the windows. Out toward the harsh security gate. "I need you out here, I know you'll love it."
"I know!" Ashley replied. "Like holy shit, I can't wait to hang out with Nicki!"
Later on, I worked on a new story. My nocturnal session took me to around two in the morning.
Music erupted through the quiet night. Nicki's verse on "Rake It Up" ambushed me.
"What the fuck..." I muttered. Annoyed, I crawled out of bed. The peaceful solitude had turned into an obnoxious nightclub.
I stepped out into the hallway. Squinting behind my glasses, I could tell the music was coming from the room down the hall. The staff spot.
Annoyed, I just went back to bed. Around 9:30, I awoke to find a note resting on the nightstand. Nicki's pretty handwriting had already laid out a schedule for me before the next interview.
I went ahead and did all the chores she asked. I wore the tight-fitting workout clothes she'd laid out for me. I did my exercises. Showered. And then wore the exact outfit she wrote down.
I stepped out into the hallway when a sudden slam echoed toward me. Alert, I looked over and saw the closed staff room door. At least, no music was playing this early...
Lunch was already laid out in the kitchen. A real home-cooked platter of steaks and steamed vegetables. I guess Cookie could cook after all.
"You like it?" a beaming voice asked.
Grinning, I turned to see Nicki standing in the kitchen doorway. She wore an obnoxious purple gown. A golden headdress adorned her wavy hair. What she had on was a glowing example of VMA weirdness. You know, the kind of shit only Nicki could pull off. "Yeah, it's amazing."
Nicki walked up to me. "Well, I know you worked out pretty hard." She squeezed my arm. "I know how y'all writers are." Her enamored eyes looked me up and down. "But you can still stay in shape and look so... nice."
After a few drinks with Kellan, Nicki and I retreated to the studio. And there we talked. My tape recorder and notepad in my hands, my focus solely on the Queen.
Together, we delved further into Nicki's past. Or at least what parts of it she wanted to share. To my surprise, she hated the stage name...
"It just had to be interpreted sexually," she ranted in that raspy accent. "I mean yeah, I don't mind it now, but why couldn't Nicki Maraj or Nicki The Ninja or something just suffice? I have to compromise with this shit just to get my music out there! And that's how it's always been, Rhonnie. The male gaze, we all gotta appease it!"
I nodded. "Naw, I see your point."
"Maybe I'd like to sexualize men more. I don't know rap about a fine boy and his fine ass, but people get all uptight about that shit." Nicki was in jaded overdrive. Her angry mannerisms veered out-of-control. "It's gotta be black girl big titties this, shaking this fat ass that!"
This was the side of Nicki I hadn't seen in person yet: her inner angry rapper. "Well, tell me more about your parents," I said.
Nicki gave me an uneasy look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean like y'all's relationship. I know who they are-"
"What's there to say," Nicki interrupted. The purple dress couldn't disguise her discomfort. "I still love them."
"I know that." Struggling to strike the balance between supportive friend and brave biographer, I leaned in closer. "But your mom and dad had a pretty rough relationship, right?"
"Look, dad was always shot out, alright." Her deep accent began crumbling... "He was always getting mad, yelling at her. Yelling at us..."
Keeping my distance, I stayed silent and respectful.
"He tried to kill her one time," Nicki said. Her trembling hand brushed her hair to the side. "The son-of-a-bitch tried setting her on fire."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"No. Don't be. You didn't do anything." Nicki leaned back in her seat. No smile or playfulness, just a forced cool demeanor. "But they're both better now." Reflective, she gazed over at the desk. At her archive of lyrics. "I just try to come in here every day, you know. Just escape into the music."
From there, we made our way to Nicki's nicer memories. Nicki was quite the reader growing up. She described stories and books as an escape from the loneliness. How she would even pretend all these fictional characters were a part of her family.
But Nicki's true love was obvious: acting. Just the way she reminisced about wanting to be a movie star radiated off her with child-like wonder. Of course, Nicki had the theater training. The looks, the personality, the drive... the affinity for costume shops.
"Be the next Pam Grier," I encouraged her. "You've got that fire to you."
After the interview, I wrote a little before calling Ash at midnight. She was encouraging as always. The motivational speaker to my dark mind.
"I can't wait to see you there," she said.
"Yeah, whenever we finish the interviews," I replied. "Might be another month..."
"Naw, it'll be quicker than that!" Ash said with what I knew was an excited smile.
Over the phone, I kissed her good night. Then I was back at it on the laptop. One sentence into my Nicki notes before a catchy beat stopped me.
Club Staff was back. The cool chorus of "Bed" drifted into my room like mist. And Nicki's frenetic verse hit me like a hurricane.
Cracking a smile, I stumbled toward the hallway. And sure enough there were the moving lights glowing under the club's door.
Fuck it. I was too tired to care. I wrote what I could then went to bed.
When I awoke and put on my glasses, my vision was crystal clear. Too clear. Stunned, I snatched my glasses off. Yeah, they were large Buddy Holly glasses... but not the cheap Dahmer ones I had. Instead, what I had was style. Purple frames. Clean, slick lenses. In other words, expensiveass glasses. I looked all around me but didn't see my contacts case anywhere. Nor my Dahmers.
"You like the upgrade?" I heard Nicki tease.
I saw her enter the room. She wore glasses even bigger than mine. Her hair fixed up in a messy bun. Dressed in sloppy nerd attire, Nicki still managed to pull off the baggy jeans and bland red blouse. Somehow, her goofy charisma made the outfit look natural rather than tacky.
"I'm gone be like Ashley and keep improving you," she said.
Later, my morning ritual commenced. The light workout in those form-fitting clothes. The long shower. Then I threw on Nicki's assigned outfit.
Nicki and I made our way into the studio for the next interview. I kept going back to her geeky childhood. There were the many phases and personalities Nicki's creativity conjured up to deal with the isolation.
"That was all I had," Nicki said. "The writing kept me going through everything. It kept me strong."
"I understand," I said.
"Oh, I know you do." Contemplative, Nicki hesitated. "When I was a kid, I used to pretend all the books I read were real. Like all the characters."
"Chun-Li" interrupted the interview. Not even the studio was safe from Club Cookie...
Nicki's snorting cackle erupted over the music. A nerdy laugh to match the ridiculous gear.
I couldn't help but smile. "So all they play is your songs?"
With the laid-back coolness of a defiant rock star, Nicki shrugged her shoulders. "Can you blame them?"
The music only helped propel our interview. The mood got light and carefree. A few drinks and guest appearances from Kellan didn't hurt the laid-back atmosphere either.
Nicki's quirkiness was the side people never saw. Or the side they chose to ignore. Besides the crazed Roman and this nerdy Nicki performance, there was also charitable Nicki. The Nicki Minaj who helped in raising $250 million for MAC AIDS Funds.
After the interview, we did more of the same: drinking and debauchery in the Queen's palace. Club Staff's playlist accelerated along with our alcohol intake. Together, me, Nicki, and Kellan jammed out like college roommates.
My buzz spiraled into a swirling haze. I collapsed on a living room couch. Nicki sat right beside me while a laughing Kellan stumbled in a recliner. The last thing I remembered was Nicki's playful smile. Her light touch on my shoulder. And then my eyes closed.
Sunlight splashed across me like a bucket of water. Groggy, I awoke in the guest room. I still don't know how I ever got there. Nor do I know how my clothes changed into a tank top and a new pair of boxers overnight... I heard more Nicki tunes drifting in from Club Staff.
The Queen's ferocious flow on "Feeling Myself" enrapturing my ears, I reached over and grabbed the purple glasses. I snatched my cell phone. 10 A.M. And seven missed calls from Ashley.
"Fuck!" I yelled. Frantic, I got ready to call her back.
A harsh grip ensnared my wrist.
"Rhonnie!" Nicki's ferocious voice screamed. "We've got work to do!"
I faced her focused stare. Now Nicki was in tomboy mode. Pure defiance. She wore an oversized black Ramones tee shirt and loose, holey dark jeans. Her hair was straightened and stringy. Less stylish than usual... but still oh so attractive.
"That means no calling your girl!" she continued.
With blazing speed, Nicki snatched my phone. Her clenched hand a bear trap. "We've got an interview, remember. Now go change and get your workout on! You know the damn drill!"
Indeed, I did. I changed quick into those tight shorts. Then I hit the gym hard. The entire Queen album played from the staff room.
The treadmill and crunches left me sweaty. Almost delirious, I staggered around the room. Surrounded by nothing but my exhausted reflection. And Nicki's music. Tired, I approached the flatscreen. My finger stumbled through the buttons.
The screen shifted from MLB Network to a different feed. I'd hit the input button on accident... and what I saw now was live footage from Nicki's palace. From my gym.
The video was clear as day. A home movie in high definition. And there I was on screen: walking the treadmill, doing my sit-ups and stretches. All in those flattering pants. I was the oblivious star of Nicki's private movie. And who the Hell knows what she was using it for... or just how many videos she had.
I was too scared to explore this feed any further. Nervous, I turned off the T.V. And with restless eyes, I scanned the workout room. But I saw no cameras. No glowing red lights. I was alone.
I decided to play it cool. Not that I had much choice with no cell phone or weapon. And this far away from home.
In the guest room, my clothes were already prepared for me. Today's wardrobe: tight jeans and a colorful red tee.
Then we had our latest session in the studio. Nicki's persona now shifted from playful artist to combative genius.
That morning took us on a variety of much darker topics. We discussed Nicki's messy break-ups. The abortion she had at fifteen. Her mood grew more anguished. There were less smiles and more frustration. Regardless of the never-ending Nicki playlist from Club Cookie or even the constant booze each of us indulged in, a vulnerable sadness punctured through Onika Maraj's confidence.
"Is this how you felt when you were younger?" I asked.
"Honestly, Rhonnie," Nicki struggled to say. Her shaky hand pushed her hair to the side. "That's how I've always felt. Disrespected, alienated. All that shit."
"What about your critics?"
"My critics?" Nicki said, her voice devoid of all charm and warmth.
"Yeah," I said. "The people who criticize your music. That all you do is sexualize yourself, you have no depth-"
Like a defensive animal, Nicki leaned in real quick. A fiery glare conquered her face. "But I do care!" her deep, guttural voice yelled. "I do have depth! I talk about more than just how beautiful I am! Maybe if people listened to the rest of my Goddamn songs, they'd see that!"
"And I agree. But there's always other factors at play here. Racism, sexism."
More sadness weighing her down, an emotional Nicki motioned toward me. "But it's not just that! I expect that bullshit!"
"What do you mean?"
Nicki's gaze drifted toward her many notebooks. "I mean most people don't know how much I care about equal rights. For blacks, the LGBT community."
"The people who know you know that, Nicki," I replied. "They know you for more than just sexy lyrics."
With the reflexes of a cautious cat, Nicki confronted me. "But they should all know, Rhonnie! Especially before they start criticizing me and my fucking fans." She ran trembling hands through her hair. Faint sweat oozed through her fingers. No costume could conceal this sadness. "But no one wants to see that," Nicki went on.
An unsettling silence ensued. But I pressed on. I had to. For the book, for me. For Ash. And even for Nicki's own damn sake. "But I don't know, Nicki," I said. "I think there's more to it than just the critics."
Nicki's eyes pierced into my soul. "What do you mean..."
"What you had to go through with your parents, all that loneliness," my voice said with equal parts sympathy and strength. "And then you had the abortion. I mean shit, the bad break-ups. This isn't just critics and trolls, Nicki."
Nicki pulled her glasses off. Her poise vanishing right before my eyes.
"And you didn't even talk about your cousin," I said.
Tears fell down Nicki's eyes. Gone was Nicki Minaj. Here was lonely young Onika.
"Nicholas Telemaque," I said. "His death affected you too. All these tragedies did. They built up inside you, Nicki. They still hurt you."
Defiant, Nicki wiped away her tears. "What do you think you are, Rhonnie? Some kind of fucking doctor!"
The bitter response caught me off-guard. "No..."
Her roller coaster of emotions veering off the rails, Nicki opened a desk drawer.
I leaned in toward her. "Look, Nicki-"
"No, stay your ass right there!" she shouted. The drawer's loud slam overshadowed the never-ending Nicki Minaj soundtrack.
Nicki faced me. A yellow wig covered her straight hair. Her tears replaced by wild eyes. "Hello there," she responded in a British accent.
I forced a chuckle. "What the fuck. You keep spare wigs in there?"
"Always, baby," she replied, her accent even crazier. The full Roman Zolanski effect. And Nicki's eyes looked... hungrier.
Uncomfortable, I sifted in my seat. "Well, look, we can just take a break-"
Like a monster on the prowl, Nicki leaned in close. Real close. "We do need a break..." A madcap smile crossed her face. "For something else." She grabbed my leg in a confident grip.
"Uh, what are you doing..." I said, uneasy.
She went in closer, inches away from my face. "Don't you know I wanted you here for more than just a biography, Rhonnie."
Struggling against her powerful strength, I tried to hold Nicki back. "No, look. I can't."
I stumbled out of the seat.
Leaning up against my chair, Nicki let out a wicked laugh. "Come on, Rhonnie!"
Nervous, I now noticed all the empty wine bottles and longnecks on the desk. "Naw, this ain't cool man." I faced Nicki. The drunken starlet was still hot even looking this crazy in a haphazard wig and runny eyeliner. Just scarier than usual. "We can't do this."
"I know all about you, Rhonnie," Nicki continued in that quirky British accent. That Roman tone. "There's more to you than just the writing." Standing, she rose to the beat of "Roman's Revenge." The hypnotic track dominated the scene. As did the Queen's deranged presence.
"Nicki, chill," I said. "I've got Ashley, you've got your man."
Nicki glided toward me in quick steps. "I knew all about you before I brought you here, Rhonnie." Playful, she leaned in with that manic smile. "I've seen those porn accounts."
"What..."
In a tenacious tease, she traced her long fingernail down my face. "On Reddit." Her hand grabbed my crotch. My ever-growing crotch. I couldn't help it. The sensation was too much. "I know you've got that big dick." Nicki stole a glance behind me. "That ass too. I've seen all of you, Rhonnie, and I like what I see." Seductive, she stuck out her tongue.
I held her back. My awkward weakness no match for Mrs. Majesty. "I can't. Not to Ash."
"Why not?" Nicki challenged. She got in my face. "She's a fan, remember?" Her confident cackle seamlessly blended into "Roman's Revenge."
"Naw, it's not fucking right!" I said. The booze now hitting me hard, I turned toward the door.
Nicki's hands snatched my ass. "Bring that ass!" I heard her cry.
Helpless, I confronted the pretty face. The crazy, pretty face. Nicki's hands squeezed harder, literally holding me in place. I had no chance at escape in these tight jeans...
"I ain't letting you out, babe," Nicki told me. She leaned in closer, seductive yet strong. "Never."
The first kiss was quick. The next one a bit slower. Her hands clamored all over my body. The sensations and suffocating loop of "Roman's Revenge" overwhelmed me. Here I was with my celebrity crush, two thousand miles from the love of my life. The alcohol left me enraptured. My large erection stayed firm. Nicki smacked my ass for erotic emphasis. Her purring ever constant. If Ash was ever in a similar spot with Ryan Reynolds or Michael B. Jordan, I'd understand. I'd forgive her for giving in to the smorgasbord of sin. Just like I hoped she'd forgive me.
I held Nicki in my arms and pressed against her. Our kisses erupted with unbridled passion.
Tilting her head back, Nicki cackled like a wolf howling at the moon. Carnal hunger conquered her.
"Barbie Dreams" began on Nicki Radio. A seductive rhythm for our intimate encounter.
"You're beautiful," I told Nicki.
Nicki threw down my pants. "Likewise," she remarked. She tore off my shirt and held my face in her hands. "Welcome home, Rhonnie."
The door swung open behind us.
Startled, I turned to see Kellan step in. A completely nude Kellan. His body was chiseled under Nicki's guidance. His big dick flopped out. A beer still held in his hand. His beaming smile locked in on me. "Hey, you ready to join, Rhonnie?" he said.
I stared at him, confused. Even as excitement still coursed through my veins. "What do you mean?" I asked. I felt Nicki step away from me.
Chuckling, Kellan swung his dick around. "Oh, you'll see!" He pointed at my own penis. "You should be doing the same with that big thing, man!"
The sound of a drawer being ripped open made me whirl around. "Nicki."
Nicki stood a few feet away. All ready for "the show." Her new outfit featured a Braves baseball cap, a loose tank top over her large breasts, and a lowered pair of checkered boxer shorts. How she changed in a matter of seconds I'll never know. Nor how fast she got the strap-on attached to her crotch. Sure, I was a well-hung guy. But even I was humbled by this big pink dildo Nicki wore. A dick bigger than the tower...
Considering how thicc Nicki was, those thrusts were gonna be fucking hard. And judging by her excited Roman face, Nicki looked to know how to use this beast. I now felt horror once I remembered she loved to peg...
I stood naked and still. Too stunned to move. Both from fear and sexual exhilaration.
Nicki cackled. "I told you I wanted that ass," she said in a deep voice. Her hands cradled around the protruding prosthetic. "I want all of you, Rhonnie."
Footsteps echoed right behind me. "We both do," I heard Kellan say.
Both of them descended upon me. The curtain now set to rise for this forthcoming threesome. Drunk, I stumbled up against the desk. My eyes strayed back-and-forth between the two pretty people. "Barbie Dreams" a sensual backbeat. This setting far crazier than any Nicki Minaj music video I'd ever seen...
"I be like fuck 'em, fuck 'em, bring the lube in," a playful Nicki sang along. She swung the dildo around. A gigantic pendulum all for me...
Terrified, I woke with a start. Sweat drenched my skin and bed sheets. My heart pounded like an incessant scare chord. And yet somehow, my ass wasn't pounding with pain...
I grabbed my purple glasses off the nightstand. Feelings of relief hit me once I realized I was back in the guest room. Everything was quiet. A beautiful morning with nothing but serene silence surrounded me.
And there was my phone lying right by the pillow. Complete with the seven missed calls from Ashley. It was 10 A.M. and I'd just survived a fucking crazy dream.
Excited, I called Ash back, but I just got her voicemail. I knew she was okay. But still. I missed hearing her voice...
I figured I'd call her back after the workout. Knowing the mysterious camera feed was from the dream, I didn't worry about being filmed now. Once I got back to the guest room, I put on Nicki's select outfit for the day.
The hallway was so quiet I could hear my own footsteps. Hear my own thoughts. I saw no sign of life from the staff room. The smell of breakfast pulled me into the kitchen.
Wearing a flowing pink dress, Nicki stood at the oven. Her hair was done up in an elaborate bun. In the tall high heels, she looked fucking spectacular... even if the outfit was more appropriate for a nineteenth-century ball rather than cooking.
Stirring a pot, she grinned at me. "You ready to eat?" she teased in that Roman Zolanski accent.
I walked up to her, impressed. "Damn, you cooked that?"
Like a confident prom queen, she strutted up to me. "Of course," she said in her natural tough accent. "I've been cooking for us all along, Rhonnie." Her grin ever so wicked, she laid a hand on my shoulder.
"Starships" roared back to life. The bombastic beat and Nicki's blazing lyrics squashed the silence like a nuclear bomb of pop music.
"What the fuck!" I yelled. Panicking, I looked back toward the hallway. Right from where the Nicki playlist had been resurrected...
I felt Nicki pull me closer to her lips. "Just let them play, darling," her British accent teased. "Let them have their fun!"
Right as the chorus hit its peak, I pulled away from the Queen. I rushed off toward the hallway.
Like a stage actress, Nicki held her hand out toward me. Devilish anger fueled her glower. "But darling, don't go!" her Roman voice yelled.
I did my best to ignore her. But I couldn't ignore "Starships"... the frenetic beat.
The staff room's door was open just a crack. Just enough to allow its bombastic music to escape.
Curiosity and anger motivated me. I shoved the door open and ran inside. "Hey!" I yelled.
Vivid, bright lighting illuminated the spacious area. The room way too big to be a bedroom or study. This was an arena.
Amidst the pink walls was an arsenal of antique furniture. A jukebox continued playing her jams. In the corner, an old-fashioned bar stood complete with every alcoholic beverage imaginable. I saw a closed door in the very back of this personal auditorium.
But the horror really set in once I saw Nicki's "staff." The dozens of wax figurines populating the room. All of them were positioned like pieces in an elaborate museum. And all of them were Nicki Minaj. Nicki's many "characters." There was Barbie, Roman, Nerdy Nicki. And they were all dressed in exquisite, elaborate clothing. The collection snapshots of Nicki's many moods. Each and every one of their fake eyes were focused on me.
Scared, I felt like I was drowning in this pink sea. Isolated amongst the Pepto-Bismol walls. "Starships" became etched deep in my mind. I broke down into a terrified mess.
"Rhonnie!" an enthusiastic voice shouted.
I saw Kellan step out from behind the bar. Shirtless and clad in only boxers, Kellan's muscles were exposed for all the world to see. And of course, he carried two beers. Like a sinister toast, he held one out toward me. "You want some more, man?"
Nervous, I rushed up to him. "Kellan, we need to get the fuck outta here!"
Kellan's amused smile never vanished. "Why?"
I motioned toward all the wax figurines. "Look at this shit!" I yelled. "She's crazy! We can't stay here. She's-"
With a dramatic flourish, Kellan leaned in and gave me a kiss. A smooth and effortless smooch. I couldn't help but feel erotic excitement. Kellan's hand caressed my face.
I stared at him, shocked. "Starships" now sounded so much slower and hypnotic in the aftermath of the startling kiss.
"Now why would you wanna leave?" Kellan said to me in charismatic Caribbean accent. He ran his hands along my arms. Such soothing strokes. "We have everything we want right here, Rhonnie."
I stumbled back.
"You can live here like me," Kellan said. Triumphant, he held up his arms. "Forever!"
"No," I said. "I can't..."
"Oh yes, you can!" Nicki's theatrical British accent cried.
In this pink funhouse, I whirled around.
Cackling like a witch, Nicki stepped into the room. She was back in her Roman attire: the blonde wig, the smeared make-up, a regal black dress embellished with glitter. And an evil face. "Everyone stays with me!" she shouted.
Full of carnal satisfaction, Nicki lifted up the dress. There was the large dildo from my dream. Or what I thought was a dream...
"Aw, fuck..." I said through the unease. Trembling, I staggered toward the back of the room.
Nicki's crazed eyes pierced into me. "Now it's time for fun." She snarled like a dungeon dragon. And in this brutal instant, her performance veered from hammy camp to fucking terrifying...
Scared, I took off for the door in the back.
Kellan grabbed my arm. His grip tight and clamoring for more.
"Stay!" he pleaded. With seductive slowness, he leaned in closer. "We've got it made, brother."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nicki get closer and closer. Her playful hands twirled the dildo. Her lustful gaze never strayed from me. "Come here, lover!" she cried. Nicki pointed the dildo at me like a loaded gun. "Bring that ass now!"
"Stay with us!" Kellan begged me. He lunged in toward my face.
I pushed him away. "No!"
Channeling her inner vampire, Nicki held her hands out toward me. Crazed malevolence compelled her. "Stay with us forever, Rhonnie!"
I watched the two of them get closer. Both their smiles so big and bright. Megawatt smiles for this sinister stage.
"I can't!" I yelled.
"Yes, you can!" Nicki cried. Using on all her aggressive strength, she came charging toward me. Her speed faster her flow.
Scared shitless, I bolted for the door.
Nicki's deranged cackles erupted all around me. As did her deranged verse from "Monster."
I tore open the door and jumped inside. In one quick slam, I locked it behind me. Then I heard the long fingernails clawing at the door. Not to mention a long dildo flopping against it...
"Rhonnie!" Nicki's British accent cooed. "Come back, lover! Come back!"
Breathing heavy, I checked my surroundings. The dark, small bedroom awaited me. A hidden bedroom. I saw no windows. Only dim lamps for lighting. A vinyl record player and overfilled bookcase were here for decoration. Long pink blankets covered the queen-size bed.
Once I no longer heard Nicki's desperate attempts to get in, I relaxed. Up until I heard her British accent rapping along to the iconic track..
Shivering, I retrieved my cell phone. I knew I still had Ash. My one hope for getting the fuck out of here. My thumb hovered over her number.
A bedside lamp cut on, blinding me.
"Shit!" I cried. Shielding my eyes, I looked toward the bed. Speechless shock swept over me. I didn't even feel the phone slip from my grasp.
"Rhonnie!" Ashley's beaming voice yelled. Dressed in a pink bathrobe, she rushed up to me. "You made it!"
"Ashley," I said, still confused and scared. "What the Hell's going on?"
Full of Nicki's madcap glee, Ash snagged a hold of my hands. "Nothing," she said. "I'm just glad to see you."
"Look, we gotta go, babe!" I said. Outside, Nicki's howl-along to "Monster" sent shivers down my spine. The cry of a werewolf pop star.
"What do you mean?" Ash asked with a smile.
I looked into Ash's eyes. Her lustful, hungry eyes. There was no panic in her. Only a comfortable contentment. The same chill spirit Kellan exhibited during the entire trip.
"Babe," I said. Uneasy, I squeezed her hands. "How'd you get here? What the fuck's going on?"
Like the devoted fangirl she always was, Ash kept displaying her grin. Her unwavering excitement. "Nicki brought me here yesterday!" she said with reverence. "We've been waiting to surprise you!"
All I could do was stare at my girlfriend's pretty face. Her conversion from fangirl to psychofan now all the more obvious.
"Nicki loved your stories, she even told me!" Ashley said. "I just knew you and her would work well together. Then we could all come out here!" Ash pulled me in close, her ferocious fingernails digging in deep through my defeated flesh. "Ooh, I'm so excited, Rhonnie! Nicki said we never have to leave!"
I heard the door creak open behind me. The jukebox now played "Barbie Tingz." An anthem for this most twisted "love." A theme for Nicki and Kellan as they made their way toward us... toward the queen-size bed.
Reaching both a sexual and passionate hysteria, Ashley jumped in place. Her hands ran wild over my body. Her series of kisses a demonstration of mad love. "I don't ever wanna leave, babe! Not ever!"
14
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2020.02.24 01:11 StaticAnnouncement 4.5 days in Cuba, Seeing Havana/Cienfuegos/Trinidad feasible?

Hey, so I'm heading to Cuba for the first time at the end of this week, from Feb 29th to March 4th! I'm going under the support for the Cuban people license (U.S. Citizen), and thus I'm trying my best to book casas particulares, find a collection of good paladares, and discover some interesting cultural events. I really want to see much of Havana (of course hitting some hot spots like Old Havana, Vedado, Fusterlandia, etc.), as well as Trinidad (about 4 hours away I heard on average?) I've also been told that if I am making the trek over from Havana that I should see Cienfuegos as well, though I'm not entirely sure of what is there (apparently a really nice waterfall nearby?)
My flight into Cuba comes in on the 29th at about 4pm, and my flight out leaves on the 4th at about 10pm. Is fitting all that into this amount of time feasible? Is there any concern with taking a classic colectivo across that distance? As long as I'm not constantly hopping from mode of transport to mode of transport I am okay with a condensed trip and have no problem with a few hours of travel through the country each way. My budget is ideally about $100 CUC per day, preferably less if possible.
Any help would be appreciated!
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2020.02.22 23:54 Meinhegemon [NEWS] Cooler Heads Prevail in Trinidad

In the immediate aftermath of the revolt and overthrow of the King of Trinidad radical members of the People's Revolutionary Front seized control over key military and government installations. Ever since they have found it increasingly difficult to justify their rule. Their harsh retaliatory policies have turned many of the average citizens against them. The violent repression of a peaceful protest last month now has the PRF in full damage control mode as its support evaporates.
Other factions have used this disarray to gain positions of power and advocate their own messages. Groups who were oppressed under the former regime, others who enjoyed leniency, and some that were officially sanctioned, all have moved to grow their support. Recent weeks have seen small-scale political violence, most directed at socialists from monarchist loyalists and Commonwealth sympathizers. All in all the upheaval has left the islands much worse off than before; anarchy is now the main governing force in Trinidad and Tobago.
There is hope in the darkness though. A coalition of less-radical groups petitioned the Commonwealth and Joint Military Command to stabilize the situation. They suggested landing Puerto Rican and AFCS forces on the islands to reestablish government order, then holding free and fair elections.
The Commonwealth, Puerto Rico, and the AFCS have agreed to land a coalition force comprised of all three nations on the islands. Elections are scheduled for December of this year. There are currently four main factions:
  1. Socialist Block:
    Radicals - Nationalize all industries, institute central planning, kill those who lead former monarchist regime, reform the police (secret), enlarge military and expand social services to their greatest possible capacity, outlaw all non-socialist parties, cut ties with the Commonwealth.
    Communists - Nationalize all industries, institute central planning, reform the police (secret), enlarge military and social services, outlaw all non-socialist parties, distance the nation from the Commonwealth.
    Socialists - Nationalize all industries, institute central planning with market-based pricing, reform the police, enlarge social services, increase schooling, eliminate child labor, renegotiate terms of association with the Commonwealth.
    Social Democrats - Nationalize export-based industries, legislate corporate reforms to put workers in greater control, reform police, introduce pensions only, increase schooling, reduce child labor.
  2. Monarchist Block:
    Constitutional Royalists - Install a new king but limit their power with a parliament.
    Radical Royalists - Install a new king with unlimited power.
  3. Nationalist Block:
    Militarists - Expand military, grant military more powers in the governmental and economic affairs of the island, institute military policing, ban Socialist parties, institute slavery and child soldiers.
    Conservatives - Lower taxes, raise military spending, increase export subsidies, closer ties to the Commonwealth.
    Expansionists - Use Joint Military assets to secure Trinidad more land in the eastern reaches of Brazil, closer ties to the Commonwealth, more military spending.
  4. Reformist Block:
    Green Party - Eliminate export subsidies, reform the police, provide pensions, increase schooling.
    Worker's Party - reform police, provide pensions, eliminate child labor, increase schooling, continue economic development, promote worker's unions.
    Centrist Party - reform police, eliminate child labor, increase schooling through age 10, continue economic development.
All parties are short on funds, and are looking for outside support to spread their messaging.
submitted by Meinhegemon to PostWorldPowers [link] [comments]


2020.01.23 13:48 juniperpublishers-j Sport, Globalization, Economy, Health, Public Policy and Power- Juniper Publishers

Juniper Publishers- Journal of Physical Fitness, Medicine & Treatment in Sports

First Part

Sports in Globalization

Atypic transnational entertainment and entertainment enterprise (Edtee), governing activity or “Punta” of the world economy and scenario of structural inequality in the distribution of medals-champions and the economic benefits that it produces.

Origin and Physiomics of the Edtee

Established in 1968-1981 and consolidated between 1982-2017, the globalization of sport is its conversion into EDTEE, which works with the logic and dynamics of any transnational and its objective is to produce a profitable, daily and massive show:
“In 2006, it moved US $213 billion in the US and generated 2 and 7 times more profits than the automotive and film industries, respectively ... Globally, in 2014: Generated 1% of GDP ... Its value was 1.5 billion US $, ... equivalent to US exports in one year ... In June 2015, in Europe it generated 1.76% of gross value added and 2.12% of employment and it was estimated that the multiplier effect was 1.22% for the set of the economy ... Worldwide in 2015, accounting for its infrastructure, goods, licenses and events has a value of 643-689,000 million US $, 1% of world GDP ... “ [1].
Its atipicity as a transnational is given by:
a) Its organization-management.
b) Nature of the work force.
c) It is present all over the world.
d) Monopolize the total production of the show.
e) It lacks a centralized power.

Let’s See Its Physiognomy

a. Units of Organization and Management of the Sports Show: World Sports Organization (WSO) or sports government, headed by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) and FIFA, whose main events are:
b. Olympic Games (0G): Organized-managed by the IOC, which made its commercialization with the “Sponsorship Programs, initiated in the 1988 OG” (Samaranch 2002: 85)? The main sponsors are the World Olympic Partners, who are associated by 3-4 OG, use their image worldwide and are franchises in the Villa.
Olympic the other sponsors have the same rights, but can only operate in the host country and the contract lasts four years. In 2016 they were:
“World Olympic Partners: Cocacola; Atos Origin; General Electric; McDonalds; Omega; Panasonic; Samsung; Visa, Procter Gamble; Dow; Bridgestone. Official Partners: Bradesco; Bradesco Seguros; Correios; N = T; Clear; Embratel; Nissan Official Contributors: Aliansce Shopping Centers; Apex; CISCO; Estàcio; EY; Balloon;. Sadia; Qualy; SKQL; Latam Airlines and Travel: 361º. Suppliers I: Airbnb; AC; CEG; Dica do chef; Balloon; EF Education; Eventim; GREE; ISDS; Karcher; Komeco; Locate Manpowergroup; Microsoft; Mondo; Nielsen; NIKE; OFF !; RGS; Sapore; SEG Gymnastics; Symantec; Technogym; 3 Corações; Riogaleão. Suppliers II: Bauerfeind; Casa da Moeda; EMC; Hospital dos Olhos; Osterscope”.
Simultaneously, the IOC commercialized the transmission rights, in millions of US $:
“In August 1995 the ... American NBC ... committed to pay 1,250 for the rights in the USA of the OG 2000 ... and the OG Invierno 2002 .... Then he proposed: 2,300 for OG 2004-2008 and OG Winter 2006 ... (Jennings, 1996: 279). “Jacques Rogge, President of the IOC between 2001-2013, in ... the financial report before the 2012 General Assembly, pointed out that the IOC already secured 3,600 in TV rights for the Winter W in 2014 and the 2016 OG; He indicated that the goal is to exceed 4,000, more than the 3,900 that they raised with the Winter 2010 and the 2012 OG. For the winter 2018 and the OG 2020, the IOC secured 2,600 ... The main TV partner is NBC, which bought the rights for transmission in the US of 4 Olympics until 2020 by ... 4.380” [2].
World Cup: Organized-managed by FIFA, whose links with companies evolved to the Official Licensing Program in the World Cups (1994). Established the Sponsorship Program 2007- 2014 and in the 2014 World Cup the sponsors were:”Partners: Coca-Cola; Adidas; Sony; Visa; Hyundai and Kia; Fly Emirates... Exclusive sponsors: Budweiser, Castrol, Continental, Johnson & Johnson, McDonald’s, Moy park, Oi and Yingli Solar... National promoters: ApexBrasil, Garoto, Liberty Seguros, Banco Itaú and Wiseup”.
The importance of broadcasting rights was recognized by FIFA in 2004:
“Revenues have not stopped growing. Correspond at the same time the rights of television broadcast... “(Eisenberg, Lanfranchi, Mason and Wahl, 2004: 248). “Until October 2011 the total amount agreed for the period 2015-2022 exceeded US $ 1,850 million... FIFA granted sales representation to Infront Sports & Media in Asia ... Australia: Extension of the contract with SBS. Canada: Rights granted to Bell Media (CTV / TSN / RDS). Caribbean: Extension of the contract with IMC (SportsMax)”.
FIFA’s revenues are specified in its 2011-2014 Financial Report, in millions of US $:
“With income of 5,718 and expenses of 5,380, a positive result of 338 was registered, income increased in relation to 2007-2010 due to the increase in sales of commercialization and transmission rights and the benefits of ticket sales rights that in Previous cycles had been assigned to the Local Organizing Committee, reserves were increased..., reached the 1,523 to the 31-12-2014... The total income is broken down as follows: Events 5,137: 4,308 of the 2014 World Cup (TV Rights: 2,428; Marketing rights: 1,580; Commercialization of rights for corporate hospitality preferential services: 185; Licensing: 115) and 829 for other events... Operating income 271... Financial income 310....

Transnational Professional Clubs endorsed by the ODM

The main event that they organize-manage are the European Football Championships, endorsed by the respective National and European Federations:
“In 2001, Manchester United of England was the most expensive club (1,400 million US $) and was the first to quote on the Stock Exchange. In Spain at the end of the 20th century, football contributed 1% of GDP and, in 1999, in Italy it was the twelfth economic sector “(Altuve [2]: 113 / 115-116). Starting the 21st century, Real Madrid is a Club model: “sponsored in 2008-2009 by Adidas, Audi, Bwin, Mahou Beers, Coca-Cola, Community of Madrid-madrid.org, Rexona For Men, San Miguel, Sanitas, Solán de Cabras and Solaria, is applying a management model that combines the social (UNICEF ambassador) and marketing with the aim of enhancing the exploitation of its brand, transforming its fans into customers”.
The Professional League of Spain promotes globalizing marketing initiatives:
“He installed his first office in Beijing... in 2014, he announced that at the end of 2015 he would open the one in Johannesburg... and New York and Shanghai... With Pepsi Egypt, in October- November 2015; in the summer of 2015... With an organization sponsored by Nike, in the USA...”.
It is appropriate to highlight -in millions US $ -which:
a) 5,525.52 is the income of the 20 Soccer Clubs with the highest income in 2008-2009: Germany, France, Italy, England and Spain.
b) 12,602.2 is the value of the 10 Most Expensive Clubs in 2010: 7 of the USA (6 American football or NFL and 1 baseball), 2 of England and 1 Spain (soccer).
c) 2.072 is the value of the 10 Most Valuable Club Brands in 2010: 51.09% of the value are from 5 football clubs in Europe (2 from England, 2 from Spain and 1 Germany) and the remaining 48.91% to USA (3 of baseball and 2 of NFL) (Altuve, 2018: 104-106 / 108).

Transnational companies endorsed by the MDG

The main events that they organize-manage are the Vueltas de Ciclismo. The annual Tours of France will be considered:
Organized by Amaury Sport Organization (ASO), a company of the French Group Philippe Amaury Publications, which... in 2010 organized 21 events... Together with ASO guarantee the success of the Tours the employer organization of the participating professional clubs (AIGCP), the Union of International Cycling and French Cycling Federation, who endorse it by the ODM. In 2005, an agreement was reached between ASO and the AIGCP that included the Tours editions from 2005 to 2008 “(Altuve, 2018: 124-125).
In 2009, the budget was approximately US $ 139 million, financed: 10% for rights paid by the cities-stage; Eurovision, France 2, France 3 and France 4 paid 50% for audiovisual rights; 40% of sponsorship and advertising rights. The advertising caravan was an important advertising tool:
“It covers 20 km, goes ahead of the competition with 160 vehicles, 600 caravans, 33 brands represented, 16 million gifts, ... and merits an investment between 278,000-695,000 US $ .... Media coverage included: 186 countries; ... with 118 TV channels; ... 650 media ...; as for the Internet website, it received six million visitors “(Altuve, 2018: 126).

Independent multinational companies of the MDG

The main event that they organize-manage is the annual Formula One (F1), property of Liberty Media, who bought the F1 for 4,400 million US $ on 07-09-16. The management of F1 is exercised through the Formula One Group, whose main sources of income are:
“TV broadcast is the main form ... according to the English newspaper Autosport can reach more than 300 million US $ and were sold in 67 countries for the 2010 season ... By radio: They have increased, in the US since 25-05 -08- the races were available through SIRIUS 125 of SIRIUS Satellite Radio company that for 2008 had more than 130 channels, was the Partner ... by Official Satellite of the NFL, NBA and NHL. The sponsors in 2010 were Allianz, DHL, the bank. UBS, GH Mumm and LG Electronics, Inc, which between 2009-2013 acquired exclusive titles from Global and Technological Partners and ... Official Partner for Consumer Electronics, Mobile Telephony and Data Processing “(Altuve, 2018: 135).
The economic and media success of F1, measured in millions of US dollars, is resounding:
“Between 1979-2004 ... it showed profits valued at 3,600 ...; in 2007 it had 597 million viewers, with 11,183 hours of retransmission in 188 countries, of which 5,169 hours (47%) were live and direct; in 2010, TV rights were sold to 67 countries ... As of 2006, it abandoned cigarette advertising, but this did not affect the business because new sponsors were incorporated, to the point that in 2007 it mobilized around 13.6 thousand million US $ per year”.

Sportsman-Competitor: Main Work Force of the Show

Professional whose job is to prepare and compete. Their types of employment relationship are:
a) It combines the work of representation of your country in the ODM competencies with that performed in one of these scenarios: Professional Clubs whose events endorse the MDG; transnational events endorsed by the MDG; Professional Clubs or transnational events endorsed by the MDG, with the mediation of the State: Cuba case.
b) Work on competitions organized by independent Transnationals of the MDG.
The one hundred best sportsmen-competitors paid in 2015: earned 3,200 million US $, 17% more than in 2014; 62 are American (27 MLB baseball); they come from 10 sports disciplines; and 2 are women. In millions of US $ income (including salaries / prizes and sponsorship), the sport discipline and the country of the top 10 are presented: Floyd May weather (300-Boxing-USA). Manny Pacquiao (160-Boxing-Philippines). Cristiano Ronaldo (79.6-Soccer of Europe- Portugal). Lionel Messi (73,8-Soccer of Europe-Argentina). Roger Federer (67-Tennis Open-Switzerland). LeBron James (64.8-NBA Basketball-USA). Kevin Durant (54.1-NBA Basketball-USA). Phil Mickelson (50,8- Golf Open-USA). Tiger Woods (50.6-Open Golf- USA). Kobe Bryant (49.5-NBA Basketball-USA) [3].

Sponsoring Transnational Companies or “Sponsors”

They buy:
a) The organizers-managers of the show, the right to use the symbols and the logo of the events in the advertising of their products.
b) The media spaces to spread their associated advertising and identified with the symbols and logos of the show.

Transnational Media Companies

They broadcast the show, buy the transmission rights to the organizers-managers and sell the spaces to the sponsors for their publicity. Since the 90s of the twentieth century, they have been acting simultaneously as organizers-managers and disseminators of the show.

Transnational Sporting Goods Companies

They provide the products used by competitors: instruments (balls, balls, snowshoes, garrochas, javelins, bicycles, etc.) and on their bodies (shoes and clothing); and sponsor events and athlete-competitors. At the close of fiscal year 31-05-2015, in millions of US dollars: the 10 leading companies (from the US and Europe) had sales of 99,315, led by Nike (USA) and Adidas (Germany) with 30,601 and 19,113, which obtained net profit 3,273 and 723.2, respectively [4].

Public-Fanatic-Consumer

It is the destiny of the show. It is the basis of the operation of EDTEE, whose fundamental objective is the conversion of all the inhabitants of the planet into fanatics of sport, that is, spectators who internalize the advertising messages issued during the events and become compulsive consumers of goods and services. Of the diffused brands.

State

Regardless of the types of governments and their politicalideological orientation, the State through public policy embodied in a legal-legal norm and an administrative-organizational structure (ministries, institutes, secretariats, etc.) with programprojects and budget, has the following functions in the EDTEE [5]:
Adapt the Participation of the Country to the Organizational Nature of the Show: When the organizermanager is the ODM, it arranges, prepares and guarantees the participation of its national team in the event. If the organizersmanagers are Transnational Professional Clubs or transnational companies, support the events and contribute to their success.
Produce and Reproduce the Sporting Ideology, Incorporating it into its Ideological Baggage and Legitimizing Itself, Making Sport One of its Ideological Apparatuses: Regardless of the result of the country’s participation (win or lose) in events, the State will legitimate with the support and promotion that makes the sport through public policy, thus operating the process of conversion of sport into an ideological apparatus. Obviously, the legitimacy of the State increases when the country obtains victories - by winning competitions and / or organizing events - that are identified with state management. In addition, the State extends the sports ideology to the rest of the social scenarios.
Financing, Disseminating the Sports Ideology, Exercising Violence and Creating the Conditions that Guarantee the Success of the Show in Its Territory (being the venue): The operational part of the shows is the responsibility of the National Organizing Committee formed by the host State , private organizations and the national instance of the ODM (in the OG and World Cup are the Olympic Committee and the National Federation) that works with its international instance, which is the highest authority of the event, which in the case of the It is the IOC and in the World Cup it is FIFA. The IOC and FIFA have reinforced and hold absolute power both events and the funding has been transferred to the State:
“In September 1995, the IOC announced that as of 2004, the share of television rights granted to Olympic city centers would fall from 60% to 49%, that is, the revenues of the National Organizing Committee will be reduced ... FIFA announced on 03- 23-17 that will eliminate the National Organizing Committees ... and will take total control of the organization of the World Cups from 2026 to generate more income, minimize costs and be more effective ... “(Diario Peru 21: 03- 04-17; Altuve, 2018: 178- 179). “The London 2012 OG cost more than US $ 17,500 million, of which the State financed 83.48% (US $ 14,610 million)” (America, economy, economy, markets and finances: 19-12-12); In the 2014 Soccer World Cup and the 2016 OG of Brazil, the investment was, mainly, public: “It was - according to the State - 21 billion US $. For Zimbalist it is between 35-40 billion US $. The final cost has not been specified ..., but ... it is much higher than the state appraisals because investment is missing ...: 1) To compete and win the venue of the events ... 2) At the opening and closing ceremonies ... 3) In the overpricing in the construction and remodeling of the infrastructure “ [6].
The State produces and reproduces the sports ideology highlighting the advantages and benefits of hosting a successful event, guaranteed by the investments made and exercising symbolic and physical violence to ensure the normal performance of the show. Obtaining certain remunerations through taxes, by the economic impact generated, etc.

Edtee, Automobilistic, Energy and Communications Industries: Rectoral Activities or “Punta” of the Lícita World Economy

The communication, automotive and energy industries participate in EDTEE, as can be seen (Altuve: 2016 and 2018):
Olympic Games (OG): Among its main sponsors are: ATOS, General Electric, Panasonic and Samsung (communications) in the OG 2016, 2012 and 2008; Bridgestone (rubbers - automobile) at OG 2016; ACER and Lenovo (communications) in the OG 2012 and 2008. Sponsors of the 2012 OG: BMW (automotive); British Petroleum and British Telecom (energy: oil and gas) EDF Energy Électricité (energy: electricity).
Soccer World Cups: Among its main sponsors are: Sony (communications) and South Korean Auto MC (automobile) in the 2014-2010 World Cups; Continental AG (automotive supplement), Hyundai (automobile) and Deutsche Telekom, Philips, Toshiba and Yahoo (communications) in the World Cup 2006. Exclusive sponsors of the 2010 World Cup: Continental AG (automotive); Castrol lubricants from British Petroleum (energy company), who was also a sponsor of the 2012 European Football Championship and the 2014 World Cup; MTN GROUP (communications), who in football has also sponsored the League of Africa, on 03-18-2010 signed a sponsorship agreement with the Manchester United Giants and was a sponsor of APOELFC Nicosia of Cyprus, in 2012; Satyam (communications) and Yingu Solar Energy (solar energy), who was the first Chinese company to sponsor the FIFA World Cups in 2010 and 2014, and in 2011 was the Official Premium Sponsor of FC Bayern Munich-Germany and the FC Bayern 2012 Youth Tournament.
Transnational Professional Clubs: In 2008-2009, Audi (automobiles) and Solaria (energy) were sponsors of Real Madrid. d) Tours of France and Giro d’Italia 2010. They were organized by Amaury Sport Organization and RCS Sport, owned, respectively, by Philippe Amaury Publications and RCS Media group (communications).
Formula One (F1): Since 07-09-2016 F1 is owned by Liberty Media (communications). In 2010 LG Electronics Inc (communications) was a global sponsor. The automotive is essential because it brings the cars of competition and participate as teams or teams. Following are presented-for 2010-five teams or teams with their owners:
a) Vodafone McLaren Mercedes: Vodafone (communications), Mclaren (automobile, etc.) and Mercedes (automotive).
b) Red Bull Renault: Red Bull and Renault (car).
c) Scuderìa Ferrari Marlboro: Ferrari (car).
d) Lotus F1 Racing: Malaysia Racing Team SDN BHD, belonging to Tune Group (communications) and Naza Group (automobile).
e) 75% of the Mercedes GP Petronas F1 Team belonged to Mercedes-Benz (automotive).

Base of the Power in the Edtee: International Division in Medalls-Champions and in the Economic Benefits

The concentration of power in sport begins with the regressive distribution of the medals-champions, emerging the International Division, that is, the specialization of a small group of countries to win and the vast majority specializing in losing.

International Division in the World Cup Operates on Two Levels

a) Winners or Protagonists of the World Cups 1970- 2014: The protagonism is concentrated in Brazil, Federal Germany, Argentina, Italy, France and Spain, which have been the champions and occupied 19 of the 36 positions from 2nd to 4th place, and in much lesser degree, in the countries that occupied the other 17 semifinalist positions: 14 Europe; 2 America and 1 Asia. The specialists in losing are those attending the World Cups that did not reach the semifinals and the rest of the world that participated in the qualifiers.
b) Assignment of Quotas-Countries to the Continents and Contribution of Players from the Professional Clubs to the National Teams, in the 2014 World Cup: Europe had 13 (40.6%) quotas-countries and 190 of their Clubs contributed 563 (76, 4%) players, of which 176 were contributed by 17 Clubs from Germany, England, Italy and Spain; the rest of the world was assigned 19 (59.4%) quotas-countries and their Clubs contributed 171 (22.1%) players. America: 1) It had 9 countriesplaces (Brazil is included by venue) and the other 3 continents 10. 2) Their Clubs contributed 102 players and together Asia, Africa and Oceania 69 (ECA: 07-08-14). There is an international division with: Europe, led by Germany, Italy, Spain, France and England has prominence with the first places in the World Cups and the largest allocation of seats-countries, and their Clubs bring the largest number of players to the World Cup; America, in second place of countries-places, its protagonism is reduced to Brazil and Argentina and it was assigned the production of players (raw material) exportable to Europe that allows to guarantee the success of the spectacle of the Professional Clubs and the World Cup:
“They are the biggest exporters ... to the Clubs ...: With 20% in 2011 ...; in 2013 Argentina with 1,945 and Brazil with 944 headed the ranking; between January 2011 and June 2014, Brazil transferred 2,311 players, of which 1,311 (56.72%) went to Europe ...; in 2014, the Brazilians were protagonists in 1,493 operations ... followed by Argentina (801) ...; in 2015 the most transferred players are Brazilians with ... 512 ... Argentina with 254 ... is the second. The Professional Clubs of Europe endow the Worlds with most of the players: The World Cups are privileged scenarios ... where negotiable players are displayed for the competitions of the Professional Clubs and thus continue repeating the cycle indefinitely in which FIFA participates, who paid US $ 70 million to distribute an average of US $ 2,800 for each day a player was in the 2016 World Cup , shared between the current team and any other team for which he had played in the 2 years of the tie “ [7].

International Division in the OG 1996-2012 operates on four levels

a) General: Winners are 15 (7.31%) countries (Group of Nine, Ukraine, Holland, Spain, Australia, South Korea and Cuba) who obtained 3,053 (66.35%) medals. Losers are the rest of the world, led by 92 (44.87%) countries WITHOUT medals and the following groups: 1) 39 (19.02%) countries (P) obtained 68 (1.47%) medals (M). 2) 38 P (18.53%) gained 508 (11.04%). 3) 11 P (5.36%) obtained 367 (7.97%). 4) 10 P (4.87%) gained 605 (13.14%).
b) Inter Continents: Medals won by Europe 2,357 (51.09%), America 926 (20.07%), Asia 874 (18.91%), Oceania 267 (5.78%) and Africa 177 (3, 81%).
c) Between Continents: Europe: Winners: 8 P (3.88%: Russia, Germany, England, France, Italy, Ukraine, Holland and Spain) earn 1,478 (32.03%). Losers: 41 P (19.91%) who won 879 (19.06%). America: Winners: 3 P (1.46%: USA, Cuba and Brazil) get 710 (15.39%) M. Losers: 38 (18.44%) who won 216 (4.68%). Asia: Winners: 3 P (1.46%: China, South Korea and Japan) earn 636 (13.78%) M. Losers: 42 (20.4%) P who won 238 (5.13%). Oceania: Winners: 2 P (0.98%: Australia and New Zealand) earn 266 (5.76%) M. Losers: 15 countries (7.27%) that won 1 (0.02%). Africa: Winners: 9 P (4.39%: Kenya, Ethiopia, South Africa, Nigeria, Morocco, Algeria, Egypt, Zimbabwe and Tunisia) earn 161 (3.49%) M. Losers: 44 (21.35%) P who won 16 (0.32%).
d) Interior of a Continent (Latin America and the Caribbean in America): Winners: 7 P (3.41%: Cuba, Brazil, Jamaica, Argentina, Mexico, Colombia and Trinidad and Tobago) earn 297 (6.45%) M. Losers: 32 countries (15.6%) that earned 36 (0.78%) “(Altuve, 2008: 214-217). In OG 2016 20 countries (9.8%) won 672 (68.99%) medals and 117 (57.35%) won NO; the Group of Nine obtained 489 (50.2%) and Latin America and the Caribbean won 67 (6.87%).
The International Division and concentration of power in sport is extended with its conversion into EDTEE and the deepening of the regressive distribution of the economic benefits produced. With fewer and fewer exceptions confirming the rule, the winning athletes-competitors come from a small group of countries led by the Group of Nine; If we add to this, the transnational companies that organize shows, sponsors, media and sporting goods, are the ones who appropriate the highest volumes of income produced by EDTEE and come from that group of countries, we are facing a competitive and economic cycle that begins and ends in the US, Europe, Japan and China, with an important appropriation of the benefits by the MDG. The public sports policy of these few national states with power in sport is identified and serves their interests and those of their transnational’s, while most of the states without or with little power, adapt their public policy to a foreign sports dynamic to your interests.

Second Part

Edtee and Great Industry of Health and Welfare

a) Sports as Producer-Player of Capitalist Ideology: The establishment of industrial capitalist society based on the principle of performance and cult of the body from a reasonably profitable perspective, materializes in the movement with the transformation -among others- of its ludic aspect, replaced by modern sport, conceived as a comparison of bodily performances to appoint champions, record records or obtain medals and trophies.
Modern sport is the result of industrial capitalism, it is a product of society where -for the first time in historyperformance becomes the central category, in the concept that guides, organizes, determines and serves as a reference for the functioning of the institutions. It arises in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century fulfilling an ideological function, because it produces and reproduces the ideas of performanceproductivity- profitability-linear and infinite progress, State- Nation, ideas-base of capitalist society, and is presented as a space social hierarchy and democratic differentiation, equality, fraternity, noble struggle, peace, fair competition, honesty, in opposition to the conflicts between the capitalist powers that led to the first (28-07-1914 to 11-11-1918) and second World War (01-09-1939 to 02-09-1945).
In globalization, the ideological function of sport has been broadened and perfected with the intervention of the media, producing and reproducing the ideas of:
a) To be a universal social space of absolute egalitarianism, in contrast to the aberrant differences in production, consumption and enjoyment of existing goods between nations and between social classes and serving as a justification for such inequalities.
b) The record-champion as a symbol and expression of progress and recognition of individual effort, representation of the Nation-State and synthesis of the greatest human virtues.
c) Individual physical perfection based on science and technology, recorded in the record and materialized in the champion’s body.
d) The collective physical perfection or corporal wellbeing for all the bodies of the buyers-fanatics-consumer public, achievable through the consumption of the body, by the body and for the body, when contemplating the sports spectacle. Collective happiness is achieved by consuming inherent and / or associated merchandise objects, linked and identified with the sport, particularly with the recordchampion (corporal image of the champion, model of overcoming, healthy body, patriotism-nationalism, etc.)
By producing and reproducing the ideas of performanceproductivity- profitability-linear and infinite progress, State- Nation, individual and collective physical perfection, well-being of all and ideal model of human coexistence, sport is presented as an archipelago of happiness in the midst of a storm of unhappiness that is the rest of society, becoming the illuminating beacon to which other social institutions must follow; becoming a source of consolation, hope and resignation, because despite the abysmal social differences in sports we are all equal and the transition to happiness is not so far, it will be achieved as the rest of society look more and more like the sport. This is the ideological function of the sport turned into a Transnational Entertainment and Entertainment Company (EDTEE), it is the globalizing sports ideology.

Health, Sport, Economy and Ideology

The medicine has been:
“Since the eighteenth century a fundamental tool in the management of the population and a decisive resource for the incorporation of bodies in the productive order of capitalism,” transiting processes whose result “has been an absolute medicalization of society and full identification of the problem of health with the interests of the economy” [8].
In the 20th century, we assist to:
“A broad and unlimited process of medicalization” is the unstoppable extension of the medical paradigm in our culture. With the doctors and their knowledge as decisive, it has been “Imposed by an act of authority and its object is not only related to the disease, but with a broad and diffuse concept of health”, it does not recognize the existence of a territory external to the Medical codes and medicine became one of the components of the economy “because it produces wealth for itself given that health becomes a consumer good representing a wish for some and a luxury for others”. In other words, “medicine leads to the incorporation of health and disease into the game of the market, with its production agents (laboratories, pharmacists, doctors, clinics, insurers) and with their consumers (the real patients and the potential sick people that we are all) “.
The irruption of health in the economy produces the perverse effect of generating:
“An infinite demand and a generalized dissatisfaction of the client, since the increase of the medical consumption does not suppose an improvement of the level of health, unlike how it is promised”. What it brings as consequences: 1) The creation of a growing and changing “frontier offer with respect to medicine, which ensures new experiences of physical wellbeing, other nutritious alternatives and other modes of body stylization”, covered with “a series of consumer goods that resort to the ideal of healthy life: low calorie food products, programs and instruments of physical conditioning, etc. “2) The infinite demand for health by customers produces enormous economic benefits for large pharmaceutical companies, which they intervene with more prominence in medicalization and decrease that of doctors. “Around this need for intervention ..., a whole industry of commercial interests flourishes. There are, for example, companies that market over time to doctors (usually scarce and, therefore, valuable in the logic of supply and demand) selling it to pharmacists’ visitors ... There are also other types of transnational companies, such as International Marketing Services Health or Close Up, which collect information about the medicines prescribed by doctors, build profiles on their prescription habits and design huge databases that are then purchased by large pharmaceutical companies in important figures of money”.
In globalization:
“The medicalization of society has succeeded ... capture the body as an object of consumption and production of capital. Healthy lifestyles, the care of food, the need to have a body in shape are promoted, not only as a way to reinforce the primacy of individualistic interest, but also as a way to create a market where at first it seemed not exist”. The institution of health produces and reproduces the individualist ideology of capitalism and hides the existing authentic power relations, as it is “A mode of relationship of the subject with its own corporeality. A mode of relationship with oneself that is useful for a system that seeks the decomposition of bonds of solidarity between subjects. Individualization works, therefore, as a tool that privatizes or personalizes the structural contradictions of the capitalist system. In this way, the invisibility of these conflicts is ensured and the global order advances in its perpetuation. The health industry, in this sense, would play a decisive role in the construction of an immune society10, of individuals locked in the aseptic space and assured of their privacy, afraid of the contagion that may come from the outside and that embodies alterity” [8].
Sport and health have become important economic activities and are producer-reproducers of capitalist ideology in their specific field of action. They fed each other and simultaneously in the processes of conversion into economic activities and producer-reproducers of the capitalist ideology. The ideal of healthy life and body in the form of medicine finds reciprocity and complement in the idea of corporal well-being for all of sports, is part of the ideological production-reproduction of both institutions in order to justify, make viable and advance their conversion in economic activities: The EDTEE that aims to convert all the inhabitants of the planet into a public-fanaticconsumer of the spectacle that it produces intensively and extensively every day; and the great health industry to cover the infinite and unsatisfied demand for health that it created and creates permanently (in 2016, global health expenditures were just over US $ 3.88 trillion).
A close relationship between EDTEE and the big health industry is established:
a) The entire medical device and infrastructure of the large health industry was installed in the EDTEE: sports medicine with its annexes and similar (nutrition, psychology, technology, etc.), on the one hand, sustains the material production of record-champions feeding the idea of individual physical wellbeing, and, on the other, it becomes a foundation and reference of obligatory and indispensable consumption so that the publicfanatic -consumer of the sport can access the collective physical well-being.
b) The device that produces record-champions (subjecting the body of athletes-competitors in the object of scientific experimentation and in the use of materials and instruments in the preparation, training and competence) of the EDTEE, was installed in the large industry of health, who by reworking it and adapting it to the needs of ordinary people, on the one hand, considerably broadens its offer of services, and, on the other, it is legitimate, promising well-being, a healthy body and a healthy life.
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2020.01.18 16:58 mtifhsoa1 Advice and Recommendations for travel in and around La Habana, Cuba

I'm traveling to Havana, Cuba for spring break with a small group of friends (March 7-14). We're college students from the U.S. and are interested in learning about Cuban culture/food. Of note, we all have some background in spanish speaking. We have been slowly throwing together our itinerary and we're definitely interested in traveling to Varadero and Trinidad using Viazul. Any suggestions or recommendations for places to eat and see? I'm open to anything!
Areas of Interest: Day hikes, day/night activities, beaches, cenotes, salsa, nightlife, and FOOD!
I have already booked a walking tour and a food tour through Strawberry Tours. I've been looking through AirBnB experiences, open to hearing about local guide companies and different excursions that may be offered by them!
Misc Questions:
- Is it better to convert USD-> CAD, then CUC?
- What is the most efficient mode of transportation.
- For people who may have used Viazul in the past, what were your experiences like?
- Would a day trip to Varadero or Trinidad be too rushed? We booked an AirBnB in Havana but would be into the idea of overnight trips in either of the destinations mentioned.
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