Actually, her name was SOLVEIG…
A few years ago when I had finally broken into the Hip-Hop journalism game I got the chance to live out one of my fantasies by going out on a date with an adult film star. My homie DWIGHT was a manager of sorts to a few music acts that you may, or may not remember. ME’LISSA MORGAN and Colonel Abrams to be exact. In the mid-eighties DWIGHT was killing ’em softly. Not so much in 2003. But D still had a few connects that trusted his management and every now and again he would have to put together a deal or some arrangement for a D-list talent.
DWIGHT was that dude too, because he didn’t care if the talent was on their way up the ladder, or on their way down. He talked them up to the point where you thought you had to meet them. One weekend while DWIGHT was in Virginia, no doubt scouting more D-list talent he gave me a call and told me that he had a super surprise treat for me [ll]. An actress from the left coast was in town for a photo shoot and since he couldn’t be in the city to show her the sights he wanted to know if I would be down. Then he let me know that the “actress” was a specialist in booty body work. Physical comedy and such, but without the laugh track. I was still down although I thought homegirl was some kind of mime performance artist. I mean, this is the kind of shit that I wouldn’t be surprised that DWIGHT would take on to manage. He would promote any random off the wall shit that reached out to him.
So I take the midtown hotel address from DWIGHT and he tells me what time to show up. DWIGHT asks me to spin homegirl around the city and hit up a few spots of interest. D knows that I know ALL the spots since I have been in the clubs since 1985. While everyone else got high school diplomas and went off to Howard University I instead dropped out of high school and drove stolen whips to their Homecoming celebrations. True story. So I checked my Motorola Skypager and I saw I had a few invites to some end of summer cookouts. I thought I’d impress the actress with my own C-list connections.
I arrived at the midtown Manhattan hotel pretty swiftly considering I was driving into the city from my parents’ basement in Baldwin, Long Island. The hotel wasn’t too fancy, but it was in one of the best locations that you could want right off Times Square. Even though this was post 9-11 New York City I had no problem walking right through the door and into the elevator lobby. The key to my swagger is that I walk like I know where I’m going. Almost no one ever questions me or stops me. I walk to the room number on my pager and I knock on the door. I wasn’t ready for who would open the door.
A petite and athletic little powerpack of a cutie swings the door open. “Hey Dallas.” She says. I shouldn’t be stunned that she knows my name since I’m sure DWIGHT told her. D loved telling people my government name since that wasn’t the name that everyone in the ‘hood knew me by. I was surprised that I would be within five feet of a chick that I had watched on numerous pr0n tapes. Fuck a Hollywood actress, this chick was a real live movie star. The thing was I didn’t know her name. Most of my tapes were the joints that get passed around like that high school stunt and I certainly didn’t watch them long enough to make it to the credits, but I KNEW her. Her deep grey-green contacts and her big lips were signature.
SOLVEIG told me to pick up my mouth, and then she introduced herself. I laughed at myself that I could be so wide eyed open since I had certainly seen my share of sexy twat back in my cokehead clubhead days. She was different though. She was obviously a thoroughbred race horse. It’s one thing to see a chick who has a natural physique and then one who has all the natural attributes plus she goes to the gym for three hours a day. I could rub off just to the sight of her fixing the straps on her sandals. Instead of thinking about how I was going to get my thing on her I started thinking about where we were going out. This was going to be a HUGE look for me on the streets. No fat dude like myself is supposed to be within smelling distance of an official piece of poon on this level.
That’s why I stay winning because I don’t even know why. If I knew why I stay winning I might try too hard. I just keep my shit extra easy and that is why I attract extra breezalinos. Okay, maybe I don’t attract anything, but fuck it, I was winning that night you hear me? Our first stop was at a cookout in Queens that my homegirl who worked for BadBoy put together. Diddy didn’t show up to that joint, and in hindsight I suppose that was good for me because I would have had to fight his bodyguards that night this chick was so bad. We ate my homegirl’s food and we drank her drank. Not that drank, but you know what the fuck I’m saying.
SOLVEIG was funny and snarky and we cracked jokes on all the people that were ridiculously dressed at the cookout. This was the height of niggas wearing 8X Avirex jackets and white tee nightgowns. Before too long we blew out of that party and jetted to my homey’s crib in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. This joint was a lot looser and it had more dudes too so it was interesting to see SOLVEIG move through the crowd. We walked through the party and she held onto my arm and stayed close by. True story is that a fly bitch on your arm is like wearing a motherfucking cape with the letter ‘S’ on it. My swagger was fucking IMPERIAL. Bullets might could’ve prah’lee bounced off my chest right then. –(c)Dallas C. Penn
The Clinton Hill brownstone is where my homey IAN REID lived and he always threw the bomb ass end of summer jumpoff, but me and SOLVEIG had another joint to flash through in Manhattan. These cats called Black Diamonds were the premiere Black lifestyle party promoters at the time and I was down with them from the beginning. A.J. CALLOWAY from B.E.T. was part of their collective before he took the escalator up to the down elevator. Black Diamonds is where my dude COSI from Freedom Fridays used to get his deejay on. Yo, I go back more than twenty years of partying in New York City. Every button I pushed on this night was lighting up too. Me and SOLVEIG got our dance on to Prince’s ‘Kiss’. I might’a done the Cabbage Patch and the Fresh Prince Carlton. I was a straight fool. I pwned NYC and I didn’t give a fuck.
We left that spot and drove back to her hotel just laughing and talking shit all the way to the driveway. I won’t even lie on my manhood and tell y’all that I beat flames out her backside that night. I dropped her off without even getting a goodbye kiss. Corny as it sounds, but we were closer friends than anyone that you could ever fuck after meeting for the first time. It turned out that SOLVEIG’s birthday was a few weeks after my own. Libra’s stand up! That’s why we clicked so righteously off the bat. Plus, I didn’t want to ruin my entire night with any one minute twenty second wild baboon monkey love. Pr0n poon ain’t no joke party people. It’s like the Sun. You go blind if you look directly into it.
In honor of my adult film BFF SOLVEIG, whose 21st?!? birthday was last Friday, here are a few joints from your boy Prince to ride out the afternoon with.
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