The Naked Soul of Iceberg Slim Read Online Free PDF

individual pimp and the strength of his game. In the Southern and Western cities of the country, many pimps have a loose, jivey, unstated type thing with whores.
    In Chicago and New York and other big Eastern cities, most pimps have a concrete contract situation with whores and spell out in great detail their rules and regulations and play the whores into commitment to an airtight mouth agreement which is enforced by the threat of mayhem or great bodily harm or, in the case of a true gorilla pimp, death.
    What makes young guys itch to pimp is the popular belief that a pimp’s life is dream stuff, like gangs of sexy girls and money and night-clubbing. But trauma for trauma, a pimp’s life is perhaps the worst type of life anybody could live. He is feared, hated, despised and walks a greased wire with the penitentiary on one side and his death on the other from other pimps, his victims, or their parents or relatives. He is constantly faced with the triple-crosses of whore-hungry fellow pimps who want to take what he has.
    Any one of dozens of intrastable calamities can occur, and the pimp will blow whoreless and penniless. Then he will glut himself with alcohol or drugs to escape the painful reality of his booby-trapped life. Worst of all, when his youth is gone, whores won’t give him a cigarette. A pimp lives his life with a stick of dynamite stuck in his rectum. When on the hunt a pimp must spot weakness, a girl’s softness to the pimp and the fast life. His personality must be like his clothes and jewelry—flashy, bold and fascinating. If he also has a handsome face and is young enough so that sleek muscles still writhe under his skin like a tiger’s, he is going to have instant andpulse-leaping impact on a large percentage of the females he faces. The quality and quantity of response from a particular prospect will depend upon her background, her set of values and the state of her love life.
    I can’t say how other pimps spot weakness in a girl. I usually was able to spot the weakest ones by a glance held a fraction of an instant too long and, of course, the excitement in their eyes was obvious. I have always believed that anything I could touch I could get. I would maneuver myself into rap range and watch arteries in the temple and throat pulsating wildly, tipping me off that the girl would probably go for a cop or a “turnout.” This type would also stutter under pressure and would follow me like a little dog to my pad and a contract.
    In others not so clearly weak I would use powerful funky pimp dialogue to test for signs of weakness. Another type of jazzy prospect will hide her weakness behind a cool front of indifference, even hostility.
    A seasoned pimp, however, will know from the texture and possibly outrageous degree of such a response whether it is real or fake.
    Once I visited a pimp pal fresh from the penitentiary and a newly acquired young package of his reacted with glaring hostility from the instant she saw me.
    I remember I winked at her pimp and cracked, “Baby Sis, how come meeting me put rocks in your jaws? Am I maybe the spitting double for some gorilla that kept his foot in your ass?”
    She didn’t answer. She poked out her jib and fled the hotel suite. I peeped at her hole card at that first meeting, and I knew I could steal her, but I didn’t because she was the only whore he had and I liked him.
    Six months later he lost her and I stalked her and bought a wino a jug to trap her in a restaurant booth and to loudly accuse her of picking his pocket the night before. I came in just as he was frothing at the mouth and waving a switchblade through the air,and she was hypnotized with fear. I moved in and rescued her and got the contract an hour later while riding in my convertible and smoking “gangster.”
    I have often said pimping is like the watchmaker’s art. To outsiders it may look easy, but it’s tough. One of the iron-clad truths of