Eva - Criminal, Part 1
WARNING: HIGHLY HIGHLY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
PLEASE OH PLEASE: If you're a young adult (aka teen) and cannot handle adult situations or relationships, please don't read this fiction. It's a LOT more detailed than my usual stuff and VERY erotic (I hope)- so please read only if you are mature enough to handle it.
NOTE: Told by Eva, an unconventional girl. Note, while Eminem is crucial to her story, he is not the main character here, although there is a lot of sex (yum) and interaction. This story IS told from Eva's POV only and please be warned- she's a very... um... sexual being. So the smut here is much more intense due to adult themes (such as bondage and light sub/dom relations, as well a *small* threesome with Eva and two random guys). Please- I *love* this fic- but be warned. It'll be a journey you'll never forget!
PS: Eva is also part Hispanic and speaks Spanish. I wrote it so that you do not NEED to know Spanish- because Eva will think or resay what is being said- however- if you want to know- I think I'll be adding translations in here in a different size font.
DEDICATED TO: To Vibe, Gi and Emily- who've read and encouraged me throughout this story! I love you gals! THANK YOU SOO MUCH for caring about Eva!
MAD PROPS TO FIONA APPLE FOR THE LYRICS!!!!
-Criminal-
Prologue
//I've been a bad bad girl
I've been careless with a delicate man//
Ya know… secrets can kill you. Secrets are lies, they're betrayal. Even the best-kept secrets will *always* come out and bite your ass when you're not looking.
Take *me* for example.
I'm just your average girl, really.
But I've got secrets.
Which is *why* I'm sitting here. "EVA MARIA MENDOZA LOPEZ!"
Or rather I *had* secrets.
"Mami-"
"No me llames 'Mami', Eva. ¡Aye Santa por Dios! ¡Que el diablo-" and *then* she goes on about how the devil will be dining conmigo in la casa de pecado where all the sinners live. ("Don't call me Mami, Eva. My god. That the devil-")
Sí, Mamita, I've heard it all before. But at least Papi isn't here because I don't think Cristobal would be alive long enough to grab his pants and run out the door.
"¡Que me llames!" I call to him on his way out because he definitely felt worth a go, but I don't think he heard me. ("Call me!")"
And she's still going on and on about la responsibilidad and the sanctity of marriage and how good little católicas aren't supposed to have men in their beds before marriage and how I need to go to midnight mass with her to seek forgiveness for my sins.
"Pero, Mami- we didn't finish," I say, which just infuriates her more to the point that she leaves and slams my door loud enough to make my picture fall off the wall. Again. But… how can it be a sin if we didn't finish? Hell- we barely *started*.
I don't understand.
And I know Cris- he won't call again. He didn't even *want* to come over, but- I convinced him. I'm very persuasive when I need to be.
God- I'm so different from them.
You know- I never thought about how different I am from them. I never really noticed when I was younger. When you're little- you don't notice that little latinas don't have crystal blue eyes and they don't have to work to get a tan.
It wasn't until I was in fifth grade than anyone said anything to me- until I was told that I was a wannabe latina. That's when Jessica Cartwright, air to the Cartwright 'Furniture Palace' informed me that I was a white spic.
And I was eleven when my parents finally told me I was adopted. By then- I had already figured out *something* wasn't quite right- that my mother had cheated… or my father had me from a previous marriage…
And I guess *that's* when I started to have a lot of problems. It wasn't that I was adopted, persay. It was that they had lied to me and raised me to be someone that I wasn't supposed to be. I don't have latin in my blood. I was mad jealous of all the girls in school with their gorgeous black curls and flawlessly brown skin. I may pronounce my name latina, but my blood is white.
I mean… what was the adoption agency *thinking* when the placed me with a latin family?
And don't get me wrong- it's not like we're paupers or they're not good people… because no matter what I do- I know they love me. I suppose it's the same as putting a black kid with a white family- but that's at least a step up, ain't it? No- they put me *down*.
Not that I'm a racist- but… come on. In an idealist world, race wouldn't matter. But we don't live in such a world.
So… I was- am- and always will be the white spic. A white girl with an accent.
I zip my jeans up and pull a shirt on. Dammit- we were just getting to the good part.
I put my 50 CD in and turn the volume up. It's my newest obsession. And he's *so* hot. I'd totally love to fuck him.
I am like… *obsessed* with hip hop in general. The culture… the music… the men. And let me say… the *men* are to *die* for… quite literally.
I love 'em. Xzibit. Obie. D12. Nas. Jay-Z. 50. Clipse. Biggie. Eminem. Dre. Snoop. They all kick my ass regularly.
But my ultimate favorite?
The one and only guy I would *ever* consider killing myself for.
Tupac Shakur.
And how my mother loved *that* when I got my first poster to put up in my room. Yeah… she's pretty much against *anything* that involves violence and anything against the wonderful Roman Catholic church. If the Pope says it's evil- it *must* be.
And it's also the reason my mother thinks I'm running around like a puta (whore/slut) giving it away so freely. The so-called gangsta rap is makin' me go out and fuck. Pero I say, no, Mami- it's not that… I just like sex. And that makes it worse. So I don't really talk much to her anymore.
It's a shame that we moved so much when I was younger. I was born, so they say, in Detroit, and they brought me to California. Then when I was three, we moved again to Miami. And finally when I was five- we moved outside Lansing, Michigan when my papi was transferred the last time by his company. He's a pharmaceutical rep. Not bad for a latino, huh?
Like I said- I don't live in the slums. Or the ghetto. We live in the suburbs in a really nice house and I go to a good school. *Went* to a good school. I just graduated and in less than three months I'LL FINALLY BE FREE!!!!!!
I'm going to college, Baby! Living on campus in the lovely MSU. Michigan State University, Dawg. All the way.
1
//And it's a sad sad world
When a girl will break a boy just because she can//
"Cris- c'mon…" I say before kissing him again. He kisses really good. "¿Porfavor?" ("Please?")
I've known Cris for like… five years now… rather knew *of* him. Knew he wanted me, but didn't have the courage. I know he's had his little crush on me- but really, there were too many chicos in escuela that wanted me. But he and I used to play together when we were little- the only other latino boy that lives in our development.
So when I finally walked over to him the last few weeks of school- he was *more* than willing to go on a date. Or two. Or three. Mami interrupted us the *one* time I'd got him ready to go- but maybe not now…
"Eva," he groans but I am *so* close to winning. I slip my hand inside his zipper and rub his pena. "Where we gon-"
"C'mon," I say with a smile before climbing over the back of the seat. And luckily- I put the seat flat in my blazer before I left.
"Eva-"
"C'mon, Pussy," I tell him, removing my shirt completely. I unbutton my jeans and start kicking them off. "This is your *last* *chance*, Cristobal Juarez."
*That* gets him. He jumps over the seat and pushes his jeans down the rest of the way as well. He's hard and that's all we need. He pushes me down and settles between my legs before thrusting inside me. Fuck. This is *all* there is in life… *this*. And it gets better every time.
And I'm not stupid. Paco. Juan. Matt. Manny. Andy. Ricky… I know it's a big kick for them- I'm a novelty. The white girl in latina's place… or latina girl in a white body… whatever. I know what they think about me and I don't fuckin' care. Not when it feels *this* good.
But that's what's a bit different about Cris. I don't think that matters to him as much. I think he likes me. Pity.
"Cris… fuck, ese- deeper-" I tell him, panting as he pounds into me. I scratch my nails hard down his back "Dios Mío" he mutters before kissing me. Oh yeah- it's times like this when I got a guy inside me so deep that I really can understand why Mami is so unhappy. She's only had Papi *all* her life. And every guy touches you different- *every*one feels different.
And I like Cris. Always have. "Cris…" I moan as he starts biting my neck a little. Oh now *that's* new. I hold his head to my neck more and pull my legs up, bent at the knees, and he sinks in a bit more on his next thrust. "Shit…" I groan and arch up into his body- raise my hips to his and the windows are steamy. Hehe…
I slide my hand between our bodies and find my clit to rub and pinch. High school boys… don't know how to get a girl off. And just feeling my hand around him sends him into orgasm and he's calling to Dios and me and everything between. So I twist my clit once really hard and come with him.
He falls on top of me in… what? Shock? Sleep? Amateur.
"Te lo dije," I say. "Tol' you..." ("I told you so.")
"Yeah... yeah..."
2
//Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins//
Okay- college so far? Fuckin' awesome!
I've been going to *most* of my classes and it's actually… a relief. I'm… I mean- I grew up with Spanish at home, but daycare was in English- so I'm basically bilingual. I *can* use my Spanish accent or not. So as far as everyone knows here… my parents speak both English and Spanish really well and I'm *not* the white spic (spic is a negative term for Hispanic/Latin people) . I'm just… me.
And co-ed dorms are fun too.
Ya know- like now. My body just moves to the music as I walk over to the bed. "You want it?" I ask seductively, but they don't care. The fact that I even came here- they *know* they're gonna get it. And this is something I could *never* get any guys in 'burbs to do.
//You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look Mami, I got the X if you into taking drugs
I'm into having sex, I ain't into making love
So come give me a hug if you into to getting rubbed//
I climb up Mark's body and kiss him deeply while I feel John move behind me and he guides my hips back so he can rub his cock against me. "Shit," I whimper as my hips move with the deep bass. "Please…"
"Shh, *soon*," he whispers in my ear before I feel his lips on the back of my neck and my shoulders and Mark's hands are all over my tits. And the beat goes on.
//My flow, my show brought me the dough
That bought me all my fancy things
My crib, my cars, my pools, my jewels
Look nigga I done came up and I ain't changed//
John spreads my thighs and I take Mark's penis and push it inside me while John guides my hips down. "Uh," I moan, when he pushes me down and keeps my hips moving with the music.
I inhale sharply when I feel John's fingers where fingers have *never* been. But I wanted this. And *they* want this. And I think it'll feel *really* amazing.
"Just keep movin'," he whispers before biting my neck and scraping his teeth down to my shoulder. Shit. I *love* college boys.
And everything is just *blurry* the next few minutes and before I know it- I've got both of them inside me and they're letting my hips just go with the song that's on constant repeat. Shit- I always *wanted* to fuck to this song.
They're hands are all over me and they're kissing me and touching me and I just come and come.
And did I *mention* how much I love college boys? The older ones- especially- who've been around a few times- they've got experience and I also tell them, just like I told these two, I'll do anything as long as I get somethin' from the deal.
Fuck… I collapse on top of Mark in a sweaty heap. "Dios mio," I pant while John moves off me. ("My god!")
I glance at the clock. Shit. I gotta leave in a few minutes- I just gotta catch my breath before going to class. "Thanks," I say before getting up and grabbing my clothes.
"You don't-"
"I do," I say, kissing Mark softly. "I got class!" I kiss John too before slipping out and running down the hall to the bathroom to clean up. I'll hop in the shower to clean myself off.
And I *know* what Jane'll say. She'll say- you're an addict! A sex addict. Maybe that's true. I don't know. I just… know what I like. Sue me!
We're in this psych class, the only I can really stand this semester, and it's so interesting. I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps I turned to sexual pleasure because I didn't get any pleasure or joy out of my childhood. I certainly didn't have any friends- so I found other ways to be popular. If I was a slut or puta, at least I wasn't a spic! Slut is a term *any* girl got- not just us mixbreeds. I don't know- I don't put too much thought into it.
I just like what I feel. And I know what I want.
3
//I've come to you 'cause I need guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin//
"GUESS who is *here*? Well… not *here*- but here?!" Jane asks, running up to me
"Huh?" I ask, sipping my soda.
"EMINEM!" She shouts.
"WHAT?" I practically jump out of my seat.
"Yeah- I like… *just* saw him on campus. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?" She asks. She's really excited. Jane is funny like that. She's like… *me* only not. She's like… obsessed with him, which is funny because she is *so* shy and goody-goody, it's not even funny. She led *such* a boring life (and still does to some extent). It's like… when I saw *her* with her 'art' posters in our dorm room, I was like… *this* is gonna be a problem.
But it hasn't been. She's a really nice person. And we get along well. It's like… I don't bring guys *back*- if I did- she'd have a problem because she is *so* virginal it makes me sick. But whatever- I respect her choice.
"So…"
"We should see if we can… run into him. Ya know- that would be cool."
"But you're too chicken shit to do it," I say, throwing a fry at her.
"HEY! C'mon… please?"
"Okay," I shrug. What the hell else am I gonna do? *Besides* stalk Eminem?!
An hour and a half later, we give up. I mean- shit the campus is so fuckin' huge… and we return to our dorm. She's so disappointed.
"Hit thirteen," I say to her once we get in the elevator, not like she doesn't know where we live, but it's just one of those habits. Like sayin' 'how are ya' to someone in the hallway.
"WAIT! HOLD IT!" Someone screams and I hit the 'open door' button just as he jumps in. "Thanks!"
The look in Jane's eyes is *priceless*! Go figure- go lookin'? Nuthin'. Go home and Eminem jumps into your elevator.
"*Calm* yourself, Iago," I do in my best 'Jafaar' voice from Aladdin, before grabbing her hand. "What floor?" I ask, meeting his eyes.
"OH- fifteen, please," he answers and then smiles a bit at Jane. "Hi."
"Hi," she squeaks.
"You know who I am," he sighs.
"No offense, Dawg- but you're not *exactly* incognito. Fuck- we were just *lookin'* for ya and couldn't find you."
"Lookin' for me?" He asks.
"She thought she saw you- she's… hugely obsessed. I mean… if it weren't for *me* she'd be psycho stalker almost-"
"EVA MARIA MENDOZA LOPEZ!" She yells.
"Dammit, Woman. I tol' you not to use my fuckin' name like that! Sound just like my fuckin' mom."
Just then, the doors open on the fifth floor and it's Mark. I smile at him softly. "Hey there, Girlie. How's it feelin'?" He asks, looking down my body.
"Healin' quite nicely, thank you." And it is. More or less. Shit- yesterday was *amazing*.
Jane's eyes nearly popped out of her *skull* when I told her *that* story. But I think she gets her kicks livin' vicariously through me.
"Well- whenever you want… just give us a call."
He leaves on the seventh floor before givin' me a quick peck on the cheek.
Em's eyes are *priceless*. "Can't ya just wait for *your* daughter to be in college?" I ask.
"So… why are you… *here*?" Jane asks, changing the subject.
"OH- my brother goes here."
"Oh yeah! Duh- Jane- that kid… who was he- Mike, I think?"
"Didn't you hook up wit' him last weekend?" She asks.
"Yeah- his roomie is Nate. Must be… and they on the fifteenth, so… anyway," I turn back to him. "Would you… mind giving my friend Jane here a hug? She'll live off it for like… a *year*… at least."
He nods and gives her a big hug and she practically hyperventilates.
"You don't want one?" He asks me.
"Nah," I shrug and he looks *shocked*.
"Why not?" He asks, offended.
"Well," I say, stepping closer to him. I mean… when's the next time I'll *ever* get flirt with Eminem? "As far as emcees go? You're *not* the greatest. And I like my men a tad bit taller."
And then the doors open on the thirteen and I walk out. "Nice to have met ya!" I say, heading toward our room.
Jane comes running after me and once we're inside she says, "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! You just insulted Eminem!"
<Knock knock>
I open our door and he's standing there. "For the record, I do agree. *And* it ain't size that matters, but what you do wit' whachu got. And it was nice to meet you too."
And then he turns and walks back to the elevator.
I smile. The boy's good. I'll give him that.
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.