The Memoirs of Miss Bunny Saint James: The Madam Prodigy

MATTER

PROLOGUE

February 22, 2022

Pussy, the vagina, the clitoris, the snatch-back that makes your lover come back was the sole reason for all of this, completely unsurpassable, and divinely inevitable. Even the rainforests in Southeast Asia can’t compare to the moist sensation of the vaginal walls. I know I might sound crazy for writing this, but sex is the root of evil and pussy is the stem. Think about it, people have started wars because of it. Remember Helen of Troy? An entire war erupted because of what lied between her legs. Shit! If pussy has the potential to create wars, it also has the potential to create greed, jealousy, pain, and chaos. Pussy. Damn, just the word sounds insidiously seductive, insatiably addictive, and just downright good.

I sometimes laugh at how I have used this natural gift to monopolize my life. Money, cars, mansions, expensive jewelry, and everything the world had to offer were given to me because of the power of my pussy. It is just that simple: pussy made me who I am.

My life was set in stone long before I was born, even long before my mother was born. See, I come from a long lineage of Madams and was referred to by my beloved grandmother as the Madam Prodigy. My family is known as the esoteric and notorious Saint James Services; the most premier escort service in the world. It was my predetermined destiny to become a madam, to solicit men and even women with the pleasures of the mind, body, and soul. To the public I am known as Madam Bunny Saint James – the international madam. I am the queen of prostitution, and my realm is the notorious Pussy Services, originally known as the Pussy Posse. My empire services one hundred and twenty-one countries around the globe, and the Pussy Services is the number one producer of adult entertainment, with services ranging from professional adult videos to call girls working corners in all the major cities. See, I have made a living from the oldest profession there is…sex.

I was always told that I was the pretty girl. The essence of beauty, a past lover of mine would say. Throughout my life, people would gaze at me like I was a portrait of fine art, as if I was a creation of Picasso or Van Gogh, or a detailed sculpture molded by Michelangelo himself. You see I had to accept at an early age that my beauty would play a major role in my life. Even if I didn’t want it to be, it was self-defining; my voluptuous and trademark red curls, emerald green eyes, and lightly tanned, bronze skin is a wonder to behold. And I have the attitude to match it all, giving new definition to what it means to be a diva. Being a diva isn’t an act; it is who I am.

As I have matured over the past fifteen years, I began to care less about the physical appearance of a person. I realized that being the prettiest and most glamorous wasn’t most important. If people only knew how much I would have given just to go unnoticed for one day, yet a life of simplicity did not exist for me.

My journey over the past thirty-five years has taken me very far from my middle class upbringing and has led me down a road of international celebrity. I have become the elite, and I suppose, the it girl of my time. Many have compared me with the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, and Dorothy Dandridge, as my beauty is just as timeless as theirs. And then you had those who compared me to Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, and Aileen Wuornos, but there will always be bitches throwing shade.

However, I never expected my life to end up the way it has, and perhaps what concerns me the most is how people view me. I find it funny how people adore the art more than the artist. They allow the glitz, the glamour, and the scandals to paint the portrait of my life, but they don’t know my struggles.

The more successful I have become, the more trouble I have attracted. From murder trials and kidnappings to miscarriages and rapes. I have been married four times, divorced twice, and widowed twice. See, endless drama.

My family betrayed me, and my siblings made it clear that I was not welcome in their lives. And if that’s not enough, I suppose my love life could be compared to a Shakespeare tragedy. See, my Romeo was Ali, and our journey together made me realize that true and unconditional love does exist. Since his death, I haven’t been the same. It hurts beyond belief not being able to wake up to his warm smile that had always seemed to melt my pain. It hurts not being able to feel his protective arms holding and shielding me from the drama that surrounded my life. I have lost someone who can never be replaced, and I would do anything to get him back.

I guess I’m saying that I just can’t deal with the constant struggle of trying to survive anymore. My spirit is tired, and I think it’s time to throw in the Gucci towel and pack my Coach bag. I know in the morning, the media will have a circus when they get word of my death, so let this be my final love letter to the world, and I hope I’ve made it clear that they have completely fucked me over.

With this entry, I leave memoirs from the past fifteen years of my life. I pray that as I close my eyes, the world will hear a story that desperately needs to be told.

The one and only,

Miss Bunny Saint James

CHAPTER ONE

September 1986

Bitch, where is my money? Naeem asked while slapping the young girl twice across the face.

That ho’ was down the valley turning tricks all night. She’s got more than some lousy ass hundred dollars, Aaliyah spat. She walked over to where Naeem stood and placed her hand on his shoulder as she looked on in glee of what to come.

I’m telling you the truth, Daddy, April pleaded. This was all I made. Of course she was lying, but she knew that if she told the truth she would have to endure an even harsher consequence later on.

So you are calling my woman a liar? Naeem asked, still gripping the prostitute by the spaghetti straps of her top. His biceps bulged through his navy blue shirt while he waited for a response. The young girl peered past him toward Aaliyah who was glaring back at her with squinted eyes.

Yes, she said firmly before she felt the fiery impact of Naeem’s open palm meeting her face once more. She instantly collapsed to the ground, hitting her head on the mahogany floor.

Get this bitch outta’ my sight! Naeem spat as he looked down at her with disgust. He knew she was lying and just the sight of her made him want to continue his physical assault. For that, he had good reason. This wasn’t the first time she robbed him of his cut and he was getting fed up with his drug-addicted employee.

Before she could mutter a word in protest, two of Naeem’s other prostitutes scrambled to the center of the floor, picked her up, and carried her out of the room.

Naeem was the founder of a very well known prostitution ring. When he was just nineteen, he began expanding his small business throughout the various counties in Nevada. A natural born leader with the innate abilities to direct and manage, he became a successful businessman without the backing of a college degree. As a child, he always had an infatuation with women, and his abusive father’s relationship with his low self-esteem mother only piqued his curiosity. He began studying the psychology of females, wondering what mental state would inhibit a woman to concede to repeated abuse that did nothing but degrade her self-worth. Naeem noticed every time his father would abuse and defile his mother and then return home in a day or two with gifts of forgiveness. With each broken promise, the abusive cycle continued. He didn’t quite understand the logic that sustained his parents’ relationship until he was older. He once asked his father why he continued to abuse his mother just to apologize and shower her with gifts. His father told him without any hesitation, Because pussy that good comes with a price and I’m getting free of charge… With those words imprinted in his mind, his opinion of the oppressed gender began to change. He started to view them as market value more than anything else. His own mother didn’t even realize the power she possessed, and her naivety was something Naeem intended to exploit with every woman he encountered.

He launched his small business with only three girls. They went from tricking hard in the streets to escorting in expensive suites, and eleven years later he had managed to grow an empire – owning two bars, a strip club and becoming the founder of the most exclusive escort service in Nye County, Nevada, the Pussy Posse. A true entrepreneur, Naeem grew his company from the ground up, and he handled it with an iron fist that made him stand out from amongst the rest. He treated everyone that worked for him as an equal partner rather than a hooker or a whore. However, once someone got on his bad side, they were introduced to the wrath of his temper.

Everyone left out the room with the exception of Aaliyah. She turned and stood directly in front of him before planting a kiss on his cheek.

You okay, baby? she asked.

Her loyalty was motivated by the power Naeem had given her. She was the matriarch of the Pussy Posse and the most-feared one. Those who chose to cross her greatly regretted their decision after encountering her violent temper and conniving vengeance.

Yeah, everything is cool. I need for you to keep an eye on the girls down in the valley, Naeem instructed, thinking of one girl in particular.

No problem, Daddy.

Aaliyah was unabashedly obedient to Naeem. Their relationship went all the way back to their childhood. Naeem watched Aaliyah blossom into a beautiful woman, and he married her as soon as he could. Even though he was a pimp and she was his top trick, the business never tainted their relationship. He viewed her as an asset to his empire: she brought in the highest paid clients and only prostituted herself when Naeem gave a direct order. Lately, she had been serving as just an overseer to the girls while she balanced being a mother to their ten-year-old son. Sometimes she felt like a single parent because Naeem was occupied with operating and expanding the family business.

Where’s the kid? Naeem asked.

He’s with Ginger down the hall. Naeem’s dark eyes questioned Aaliyah, so she explained, I sent him there to do his homework while you handled the girls.

Go get him, Naeem ordered before Aaliyah disappeared from the room.

***

Ginger sashayed across the room as her red hair bounced with every step. She took a seat in front of her vanity and began applying more lipstick to her naturally ruby red lips. Ali sat at the desk across the room admiring her instead of doing his homework. He had known Ginger all his life and admired her beauty – from her alluring red curls, the seductive glow of her green eyes, her ivory skin, to her long, feminine nails and her elongated neck. She was perfection. She was Ginger Spice. Although he was only ten, Ali knew that something was not quite right with Ginger’s anatomy. She was the tallest of the girls in the house and with a deep, masculine voice and a domineering personality, Ginger easily stood out in a crowd. Indeed she was a transsexual woman, but most referred to her as a fem queen within the LGBTQ community. Still, that was a fact that Ali’s young mind did not comprehend.

So are you going to tell Auntie Gin what you are doing over there? Ginger asked looking at Ali through the reflection of her mirror.

Nothing. I’m supposed to be doing my homework, but what’s the point? Ali said throwing his pencil down on the desk.

What’s the point? Having an education is the point, silly boy. What would make you say that?

I already know I’m going to be a pimp when I get older like father, so what’s the point? Ali repeated knowing the fate that his father had determined for him.

Ginger turned around and walked over to Ali. She bent down so that they were face to face.

Now, to be a man like your father, you will need an education and so much more. It takes every life lesson for you to run an empire, even those in a textbook.

I’ll just get a pretty girl like you to run it for me, Auntie Gin, Ali giggled.

Pretty girl like me, huh? Ginger laughed while raising her eyebrows. Auntie Gin is one of a kind baby, she said this time deepening her voice.

Ali’s eyes widened with shock at the transformation in Ginger’s voice. Before he could extend his reaction, his mother entered into the room, commanding his attention and taking his mind off of Ginger’s latest magic trick. He admired his mother’s robust attitude. Her beauty was impeccable as she was the perfect blend of Nigerian and Native American descent. She was a black goddess with rich chocolate skin and slanted brown eyes that illuminated her high cheekbones and full lips.

Unlike his father, Ali looked at women differently. He didn’t see them as market value but more as beautiful creatures of the earth. Their anatomy and personality captivated him in a way that made him want to know everything about women. Although he was raised in a whorehouse, powerful women surrounded him, like his mother and his Aunt Ginger, and this gave him a respect for females that his own father lacked.

Ali, come with me. Your father wants to speak with you.

What I do? Ali questioned, figuring he must be in some type of trouble. Recently his father had been scolding him over the slightest mistakes.

Just come with me, Aaliyah demanded. She looked over towards Ginger before nodding her head in agreement for their plans for later before leaving out Ginger’s suite. Ali stood up and followed his mother down the hall back to Naeem’s office.

Naeem smiled when he heard Aaliyah and Ali entering the room. Looking at his son, he was reminded of his goal of making Ali his successor. Naeem worked hard to build the empire that he created, and he didn’t intend on letting it die with him. He wanted his business to be a family-owned company, and since as Ali being his firstborn, he had all intents on passing the reins to his son.

Naeem was aware that he was hard on Ali at times, but he held high expectations only for him to grow into a responsible and hard working man. He was set on making Ali the greatest leader ever, and no one dared to object to that, not even Ali himself.

Did you finish all of your homework? he questioned.

Yes, father, Ali, answered, looking down at the hardwood floor.

Don’t be scared. You’re not in trouble. Naeem noticed his son’s trembling hands. You need to learn how to control your nerves. Don’t you be scared of anyone, not even me.

Okay… Ali responded, always attentive to everything his father shared with him. Even at the young age of ten, he knew his father was teaching him lessons that would help him become the man Naeem wanted him to become. Since he could remember, all he knew from his father were life lessons of manhood, fatherhood, and business.

Before Naeem could continue his dialogue with his son, he was interrupted by a loud ruckus in the hallway. Aaliyah snatched the door open to see what the commotion was about. Ali, piqued with curiosity, peered behind his mother in an attempt to see what was going on.

Ho, you must think I’m some dumb bitch. If you wanna’ run tricks with me, pretty, I want my full cut. Ginger was arguing with the same girl that received a beating from Naeem minutes earlier.

This is all I have, Ginger. You can check my pockets if you want. You know I wouldn’t do you like that. April was already aware of Ginger’s reputation, and the last thing she wanted was to be a casualty of Ginger’s rage.

So you’re telling me that all you have is a draining-ass hundred dollars? Where are my coins, bitch? Ginger looked April up and down ready to attack.

This is all I have for you, Ginger. Believe me…

My cookies ain’t fo’ free bitch! Ginger screamed before smacking April in the back of the head. Her manly hands were so strong that one hit sent April into the wall.

April! What the fuck is going on with you? Naeem questioned as he stormed out of his office and spotted April squirming on the floor. She now had a bruise on her forehead, matching the black eye that she received from him earlier.

Daddy, I’m sorry… I’m trying to get… April managed to say before bursting into tears.

Take her out of here, he said to Aaliyah.

Come on, bitch. You been getting ya’ ass slapped all damn night, Aaliyah commented before helping April up and taking her away.

What about my coins? Ginger inquired.

How much does she owe you? Naeem asked taking out a wad of cash and began thumbing through a bankroll of hundreds.

Seven hundred, Ginger answered, eyeing the large bundle in his hand. Naeem gave her a sardonic look that told her that he knew she wasn’t telling the truth. However, he chose to just give her the money and settle the issue. After all, Ginger was an asset to him. She was his only transsexual woman, and she brought in a lot of revenue and a melting pot of clients. In addition, she was stunning, making it impossible to detect that she was born a man.

Here you go, Ginger. Now go make me another seven hundred tonight, Naeem winked at her before walking away.

Ali watched the scene, still in awe. This was a typical night and although this was all he had ever known, some situations were still surprising and confusing to him. During moments like this, he would turn to his father to fill in the blanks.

She wasn’t telling the truth, father. Ali said catching up to Naeem.

I know, but a good pimp knows when to choose between a good lie and a bad one.

There’s no such thing as a good lie.

Naeem looked back at his son with concern. Oh, but there is. A good lie is one that is so convincing that it sounds like the truth.

Ginger didn’t do that, Ali reflected. He knew for a fact that Ginger was lying; it showed in her body language and tone, and not to mention, that even at his age, Ali knew that it was difficult for any of the girls to make seven hundred on a Tuesday night.

That’s true, but Ginger is one of the types that you would like to keep happy.

Why’s that dad? Ali was confused. He questioned what made Ginger so special.

Because Ginger is one of my top tricks and you always keep your top girls happy so they can keep bringing that cash in, Naeem advised him, thinking back to how valuable of an asset Ginger was to his team.

Ginger was one of his original girls. Even though she was born male, Naeem took a chance in making her a prostitute. He taught her everything she needed to know: how to walk, talk, act and even have sex like a woman. In a matter of a few years, Ginger had become a known name in the posse with men and even women wanting to spend an hour or night with the bombshell beauty. Naeem couldn’t deny Ginger’s looks; she was surely one of a kind with genetics and hormones combining her into an image of a 1950’s pin up girl. Her attitude enhanced her image with her diva persona, but that was what made Ginger; she was the whole package and Naeem couldn’t afford to lose her.

***

In the Pussy House, things were always happening. Drama seemed to lurk around each corner, and tonight was no different. April curled into a ball on the floor while Aaliyah gave her another kick. She had been assaulting April ever since she had taken her away from the fight with Ginger. April didn’t think to fight back, knowing there wouldn’t be a way for her to win a fight against her overseer.

Now you’re going to learn the tricks of the trade, and I got something to help you along the way, Aaliyah said with a grin. Ginger stormed into the room as if her hair was blowing in the wind. April looked up at Ginger as if she was a bat released from the gates of hell, assuming she was about to get more of a beating.

What are you staring at honey? Have you never seen a fem queen before, Ginger cackled.

April stared back in silence, preparing for another beating. However, the look on Ginger’s face spoke of something different.

Everything will be okay. Ginger won’t hurt you. You can get up now.

April looked around cautiously; not understanding what kind of game Ginger was playing.

It’s ok, I won’t hurt you one bit. Ginger said with sincerity in her eyes. She reached out her hand to help April get up from the floor. She accepted. Her body winced in pain when she stood up, feeling like a rib had been broken.

Relax yourself, Ginger instructed softly before moving aside and pointing to the bed. Cautiously, April walked to the bed and sat down. She was still uneasy in Ginger’s presence, and she did not quite understand what her motives were but she knew something was wrong.

Ginger sat next to her and gently began massaging her back. April didn’t like Ginger’s gentle caress and started to squirm in discomfort. She soon realized that Aaliyah had left the room, causing more worry. Ginger grabbed April’s chin and turned her face back towards her. She began tongue kissing her furiously. April was horrified and disgusted; she pulled away and wiped her lips.

What’s the problem April? Don’t you feel what I’m feeling? Ginger asked with a puzzled look on her face.

I don’t feel a damn thing! You are talking out your neck, April said, jumping up from the bed. Ginger jumped up right behind her, gripping her hair and throwing her back on the bed.

Please don’t do this!

She looked at Ginger and noticed a look in her eyes that she had seen on her some nights in the valley when they turned tricks. April closed her eyes and let the assault happen; her body was too tired to put up a fight. The most traumatizing part was the green eyes she saw staring back at her when it was over, the same green eyes that her first-born would inherit.

CHAPTER TWO

Ya’ fresh ass will be back! You think you can make it on your own, but it ain’t easy!

Bunny’s mom continued to scream insults at her while she walked along the broken sidewalk in her rat-infested neighborhood. She was sick of her mother’s crazy antics. With the rent being months overdue and all the utilities in the house having been cut off within the past few months, She had enough of her. Every dollar that she made at her job was spent on her mom’s drug addiction instead of the bills. When Bunny decided not to give her the money and take care of everything herself, her mother had the audacity to search through her room and find her stash. Things didn’t get any better when the twins were taken by the state, and even though Bunny had been searching for them, she still had no clue where they were.

Her mom added the last straw today. Bunny walked into the house to see her mom passed out with crack pipes around her after she was foolish enough to give her fifty dollars for what she claimed was her much needed asthma medication. Bunny realized that she was fighting a losing battle and knew that this wasn’t the life that she intended to have at twenty years old.

After her sisters were taken away last week by the department of human services, she figured that it was useless to stay in the busted shack her mother called a home. Even though she wasn’t in the healthiest relationship, her boyfriend Don had his own place and was eager to have her stay with him. Don lived in the same county, so in less than fifteen minutes she had approached his apartment.

Bunny used the spare key he had given her and walked inside the house. However, despite being greeted with a warm welcome, the stench in the air told her that she walked in on the middle of a sex session. Her body temperature began rising and beads of sweat began to trickle down her forehead. Infidelity was the one thing she simply could not tolerate in a relationship. Bunny walked in the kitchen and picked up the largest pot she could find. She filled it up with water and placed it on the stove. The screams of pleasure that escaped from the bedroom caught her attention, and she instantly felt through her hair for the razors that she kept for protection.

Walking closer to the bedroom door, the moans and screams grew even louder, and she couldn’t restrain her anger any longer. Bunny burst through the door and charged at the girl riding on top of Don. Bunny was swift like a lioness going after its prey. She reached for her razor and swung at the girl’s face with the blade, following with a punch to the back of the head. The girl instantly fell over the bed, revealing the next target: Don. He quickly rolled out the bed, while Bunny turned and ran out the room to retrieve the pot of now boiling water. Carefully gripping the pot, she stood on the other side of the wall waiting for his next move. When she heard Don’s worried voice approaching, she turned the corner and threw the scolding water on his naked body. Red burn marks instantly covered his body, causing Bunny’s evil grin to surface. His agony was her trophy – a trophy representing heartache. On her way to the door, she turned around to see the bloody-faced girl consoling Don and his wounds. A shot of pain ran through her heart and hurt her pride, but she shrugged it off and threw the spare key on the floor. She told herself that it wasn’t meant to be,