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| Berry Gordy, Motown Records mogul |
A Phenomenal Two Minutes |
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I had always been fascinated by those exciting older women with great bodies who hung around Hastings Street at night with not a lot to do. When I found out what they did, I was even more fascinated. I had heard they would let you "do it" to them for just a few dollars. Wow wee! Those sexy-looking women, who I would always have trouble calling whores, had style and class. At least enough not to accept money from a fourteen-year-old punk kid.
They just ignored me as I strolled past, money in my sweaty outstretched hand.
Finally, after parading up and down the two-block stretch for the third time, one who had given me a subtle smile my last time around whispered softly, "Hey, you wanna do some business?"
Rocketed off guard, heart in mouth, I stammered, "Uh, business? I mean . . . uh . . . business, like what?"
"Like fuck, that's what!" she said, staring right at me while I looked quickly to the stars off in the sky somewhere.
"Oh . . . well, I . . . uh."
"Follow me, sweetie," she said in the softest, sexiest voice I'd ever heard, as she darted across the street.
And so I did — on wings! Going through a dark alley and up some back stairs was exciting, but scary.
I followed her into a small, overused room with a small, overused bed, which I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough to jump into.
"Baby, you got to pay me first," she said as I was scrambling to get out of the inside-out pants leg that was clutching my foot.
"Oh yeah, of course," I said, trying to find my pants pocket somewhere on the dark floor.
It was exhausting but so well worth it. Like riding wild horses and a magic carpet at the same time. Phenomenal! All two minutes of it! (Detroit, 1952)
from To Be Loved: The Music, the Magic, the Memories of Motown by Berry Gordy (Warner Books, © 1994)
© 2000 Nerve.com, Inc.
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