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“Women are stimulated visually, just as men are. Ninety percent of my management staff are women because of that. Men, we think with our dicks. Women think with emotions. Now, don’t get it twisted, we have categories for every kink and fantasy you want, but the reputation I’ve built for my business is that we celebrate Black creatives, not degrade them. Sex is beautiful. It’s fun and feels fucking fantastic. Why do we, as Black people have to accept degradation in order to express ourselves, but this white dude is a top pick from the start? Why is our pay less? Why do we have to pay for our own health screenings? Why can’t we pick our roles and partners? Why aren’t our videos in 4D on XNXX and Brazzers? Why are women and men being abused and forced to do certain things just to get their names out there? It took one time for me to see the behind-the-scenes to understand that if I wanted to do this long-term, I had to go against the grain and do it on my own.” I sat back grinding my molars, trying not to let the past change my mood.
A past filled with evil and horror.
It never sat right with me to see white men in scenes with Black women. Interracial love, my ass. The directors always spun the narrative that it’s a fetish. Yeah, a sick fucking fetish that I had to be a witness to more times than I cared to count. It sickened me to my stomach seeing white men drink from the sweet blackberry nectar of our women and then turn around and abuse and degrade them. To this day, there isn’t one white woman that can ever in her pale-ass life say she tasted my cum or felt my dick.
“We hear stories all the time, and it’s crazy that type of mistreatment still goes on.” Chester glanced over at Candice with compassion in his eyes. He had nothing to worry about over here. She and all the other women under my company were treated with the utmost respect, regardless of how disrespectful they liked to get fucked on camera. “I also applaud you for being one out of ten Black male entertainers who have not gone the bisexual route for clout and stardom.”
“Can’t forget the new wave of liking their ass ate and pegging.” Eric snorted like he said the funniest joke ever, but Candice and I shared a common look. He was the new wave he was talking about.
“Wow.” Flipping her ombre bundles over her shoulder, Candice wiggled her brows and giggled behind her glass of champagne.
As soon as Eric’s eyes widened, I knew he was about to start with the shits, and I was ready for them. “Wait. Candice, have you ever pegged Damien? Has he sold his soul to the strap?” This motherfucker wanted to die. Had to.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Sensing my anger and legs moving to stand, she sat up closer to the mic and glared at Eric. “Don’t do that, Eric. I get that y’all like to play and shit, but that isn’t cool. For the record…”
For the record, I didn’t need her to speak up for me. “Do you have a problem with a man expanding his sexual palette?”
Eric’s eyes bounced around between Candice and Chester, who looked just as puzzled as him. “I-I… no. What a man does is his business.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” He continued to shift nervously under my glare. “Then why make a joke of it or is it that this is your opportunity to segway your interest into the act? Do you like men, Eric Jonathon Benson?”
Chester’s eyes bucked, and Eric blinked a thousand times before answering. “Yo, why are you turning this around on me when I’m the one who asked you a question? Since you’re trying to deflect, then that must mean that it’s true. Just admit that you like men, but the public won’t ever know because you prefer to do it behind closed doors.”
“You’re such an asshole. How…” I held my hand up stopping Candice from speaking.
The loud laughter vibrating through my chest felt good. I loved nothing more than people committing career suicide on their own merit. “To answer your question, no. I do not like men, nor will I ever. Pussy will always be my choice of food. But what I find interesting is that you do but project your insecurities to reveal your truth through antagonizing other people. This new wave kink that you’re talking about, you like it because you’ve reached out to Candice more than twelve times in the last two weeks after finding out we were going to be in town for the awards show and wanted to link up. When she said yes, only if other men were involved, you agreed.”
“That’s a fucking lie. All of it is. Bitch, stop lying.” My chest pumped with pride, seeing his forehead protrude with veins.
“Oh, so I’m the bitch because you got exposed, but technically you are cause you’re the one who wants me to bend you over, bitch.” Reaching into her purse, she took out her phone and scrolled until she found what she wanted. “Now, we can do this the ugly way or you can apologize for disrespecting me and calling me out my name because you and I both know I have the pictures you sent me when I asked you to prime yourself, bitch.” She seethed.
“What… the… fuck… is… going… on?” Chester slouched dry heaving, eyes ping-ponging back and forth.
“Nigga, you think I’m playing with you? Don’t apologize just to me, but to Damien as well. You’ve been disrespectful since we got here knowing I got photos of you booted over. Try me.” Damn. I sat back like a proud parent. Candice listened to one of my many first lessons - always keep a record of your shit. “You like gambling with your career and for what? Likes and thinking it will make you more appealing to women?” She tsked, tapping her nails on the table. “We’re waiting, booty bandit. Hurry up so we can finish the show and leave.”
Too exposed for his own good, Eric accepted defeat and apologized. “Candice and Damien, I apologize for my disrespect.” He looked like he wanted to cry.
“That’s what your ass gets.” And to think this was a live taping. “I still might bust you in your shit for thinking you broke some world exclusive. Ole Pussy ass nigga.” He flinched so hard, he almost fell out of his chair from the cold lethal grit of my words that silenced the room. Her long nails massaging my inner thigh did nothing to stop the murderous venom I bore into him, making him cower like the little fucking bitch boy he was.
“Do you know how many Black men feel like if they want to reach a certain level of exposure and recognition they have to sell parts of themselves, parts of their soul?” It was a truly sad epidemic. “When I started Pyramid Entertainment, I did it because of those reasons and then some. Women aren’t the only ones who get raped on camera, and it’s edited to make it appear consensual. I take pride in the empire I’ve built because it provides safe spaces for our people to do what they love without having to sacrifice their sanity or soul.”
Most might find what I said contradictory and hypocritical to what I did by exposing his secrets, but they’re not the same. Eric thrives by talking shit and bullying others, all the while he’s living the most scandalous life of all. If I wanted to expose his private life, I could. That was just a reminder for him to stop fucking with me. My issue was never with what he insulated. I’m a very confident man. Very. My sexuality being questioned never perplexed me, it was what he was trying to promote, convey, and using me to do it. I can guarantee his question and dorky-ass expression asking Candice that question will be used as the marketing for this episode for those who missed the live show. I guarantee, if I checked Twitter, I’m trending for something else other than my dick.
Scratching his ear and clearing his throat, Chester steered the conversation back to safer waters. “Outside of being Damien, who the lady's love and men want to be, there is not a picture on Beyonce’s internet of you not dressed in a suit. Brotha, you are one of the sharpest-dressed men we’ve seen in our generation. Tell us more about your brand as The Classic Man.”
“Before he answers, can I just say that everything he is, Damien or the Champion Pussy Eater of the world, he’s what the ladies love.” I swear when she moaned in the mic and bit her lip, these two fools looked like if she touched them, they’d bust in their pants. “Seriously. It’s the well-groomed locs down his back. The four fang VVS’s in his mouth and the tatts and muscles. He smells good as hell. His intelligence and natural domineering abilities.” She shivered and started moaning like crazy, her nails went higher on my thigh, and gripped my dick, giggling when it jumped in her hand.
“Marry me, Candy P.” Chester dropped down to one knee and held up a cherry candy ring pop, her favorite. That tickled the hell out of her ass.
Squealing like she ain’t never had a taste of sugar a day in her life. She kissed his cheek and took the ring. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” Of course, she couldn’t be Candy P, the caramel stallion from Vegas, if she didn’t unwrap the ring and give them a sloppy visual of her… skills.
“Behave,” I warned.
Batting her lashes, those hazel fuck me eyes peered up at me. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Wearing suits has always been my thing since college. The coaching staff made it mandatory that we wear suits on game days to present ourselves a certain way. It gave us an added confidence before we stepped on that field. Not only that, but my father also made it known that when you look good, you feel good. The mindset of my role models has been a pillar of the caliber man that I am. People who know what I do for a living respect me more when I’m in a suit versus a Nike sweatsuit, especially when making business deals. Branching out and starting my line of luxury suits has always been in the picture. The hold up has been timing, and now is the perfect time.” That was the exclusive that no one knew about. Not even Candice.
Men of all nationalities ask me where I get my suits from. Women ask too. As I get older and the shifts I make in my career, I often wonder if the creative lane was my game plan all along.
