Child Support (Urban Books)

by Amour

  He stood there staring at me, with his skinny dick still hard.

  I wasn’t myself. Why the hell was I fucking him at my job to begin with? Before I left the restroom, I turned to him while holding the door open with one hand.

  “Mr. Bennifeld will be with you shortly.”

  When I got back to my desk, Mr. Bennifeld and Cliff were both in the lobby, talking. I sat down and pretended as if nothing had just happened. Shortly after, Ashton came from the restroom and sat down. Cliff looked at him and then at me as Mr. Bennifeld continued talking.

  I know he suspected something was up, but he had no proof. I avoided giving him any eye contact.

  “Hello. Mr. Bennifeld’s law firm. Angel speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  “What the fuck, Angel?” Cliff said on the other end of the phone. I didn’t understand what he was tripping about, because, clearly, we weren’t together. “What did y’all do?”

  “Are you serious?” I asked him back. I must have had the I’ve-been-fucked look on my face.

  “Your hair was messed up, and you looked suspicious,” he explained.

  I turned in circles in my chair as I listened to Cliff complain. My shift was almost over, and his mouth was the last thing I wanted to hear.

  “When you get off, I want you to go straight home and then call me. I dare you to try and wash up before you call,” was the last thing he said before there was a dial tone.

  I looked at the phone, and then I set down the receiver. I wasn’t sure if that was a threat or what. Whatever it was, it left me nervous. What was he planning to do?

  I prayed that time would go by slowly as I cursed myself out for not washing up before I left the bathroom.

  Mr. Bennifeld came into my office. “I have to pick my daughter up from school a little earlier today. It’s fine if you want to leave early,” he told me.

  I wondered if I should tell Cliff that I was getting off early or not.

  Kim, Porsha and I had made plans to hook up later that night. We laughed and joked on our way to the parking lot, happy be to going home. I got in my car and put the key in the ignition. When I started the car and looked up, I noticed the same truck that had taken me and Cliff shopping. Is he stalking me? Maybe I was tripping. He wasn’t like that.

  I headed straight home, and the first thing I did was relax on the couch. I hadn’t been home for more than ten minutes at a time since Cliff had come to town. I kicked my heels off, unzipped my pants, and then kicked my feet up. I was restless.

  I didn’t think I smelled like sex, but you can never really smell your own stench. I looked at my grandfather clock and saw that I had forty-five minutes before I would technically be off work. I ran upstairs to shower.

  I put the water at the perfect temperature, not too cold or too hot. I grabbed some underwear and quickly took my clothes off and hopped in the shower. I scrubbed my body clean with Dove soap. I was hoping that this would do the trick and that I wouldn’t smell extra fresh when I got with him.

  After about ten minutes of that, I turned off the water and stepped out. I dried off with my fluffy dry towel and wrapped it around me as I walked into my bedroom to lotion up. As I reached for my lotion on the top shelf in my closet, I came across something sharp.

  “What the fuck?” I yelled. I had cut my index finger on something. I placed that blood-covered finger in my mouth, applying pressure to it. The taste of blood filled my mouth. I went to grab my vanity chair so I could see what had cut me. I continued to suck on my finger as I stood on the chair. There was a machete with blood on it shining on the shelf.

  My eyes got big as a house. First the gloves, then the trunk, and now this, I thought. I had no clue where all this shit was coming from, but if I didn’t know any better, I would think somebody was trying to set me up.

  I stood there thinking about what to do and how to do it. I couldn’t leave that machete sitting up there. Then again, I couldn’t touch it, either. I also needed to clean my trunk and dispose of those gloves. There were so many unanswered questions going through my head.

  I wrapped the machete up in my towel and put my chair back. I grabbed my first-aid kit so that I could clean and bandage my finger. I slowly started to put my work clothes back on, and then I jogged downstairs. I looked at my phone, which read 6:12 P.M. Normally around this time, I would be arriving home from work. I decided to call Cliff.

  “What’s up?” he answered.

  “Home,” I said. Then my phone lit up. I looked at it and it read CALL ENDED. So all of a sudden he wanted to be rude? I sat on the couch and waited for him to arrive.

  It took about ten minutes before he was at my front door, ringing the doorbell. I quickly got up to open the door for him. When the door swung open, he was standing there with a weird look on his face. His eyes were glossy, and he looked deranged. He walked in without saying a word to me.

  I closed the door behind him, and then he sat on my couch and patted the space next to him for me to sit beside him. I did.

  We sat in silence for a few moments, and then he demanded, “Take those pants off.”

  I was thinking maybe he wanted to fuck me, so I did what he demanded without second-guessing him. I stood up and slid my pants and panties down. He stuck three of his fingers up my coochie, and then he took them out and sniffed them.

  “Lay down,” he demanded.

  I was puzzled. I had no clue what this man was up to. I did what he told me, and then he pushed my legs open. He put his face between my legs and started licking my pussy. He lifted his head up and gave me an evil look, and then he nodded his head as he stood up.

  “Get dressed,” he told me. Then he sat back down.

  I looked at him the whole time I was putting my clothes on. I didn’t know who this man was at that moment. After my pants were up and buckled, Cliff hopped off the couch and began choking me. I grabbed his hands, trying to pry them off my neck, but to no avail. I prayed he wouldn’t punch me, because I knew I would be knocked out. After all, he was a professional boxer. I gagged and lost my breath before he let go of my neck. When he finally did, he grabbed me by my hair.

  “Lie to me or cheat on me again, Angel, and I’ll kill you.” He mugged me, and then he released the tight grasp he had on my hair.

  I placed my hands on my sore neck, sliding to the floor. I didn’t know when I became his girlfriend or why he was so obsessive all of a sudden, but I was scared straight. We had been kicking it for only a week, and he was already showing me his true colors. I didn’t like the new him and had no intention of continuing our friendship.

  “I think you should leave, Cliff,” I said in a low tone. He looked at me sideways and then chuckled. “Bitch, you fuck with me, you stuck with me.” He got up and headed to the kitchen.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I had no control over this situation, and it seemed as if I was trapped. I looked behind me into the kitchen, where he was. He had the refrigerator door wide open, and then he closed it and demanded that I come cook.

  I did as I was told. I really didn’t have any other choice. I didn’t know what had triggered the sudden change in our friendship. Nor did I know when it had become a relationship, but whatever it was, it had me walking on eggshells. I was scared for my life, and now I felt like a child who was terrified of her father.

  Chapter 5

  “Did you not do a background check on him? I mean, you do have his files at your job, Angel. Damn!” Treecy was all in my ear about the Cliff incident. She and Tiffany were like my only friends. I figured she would understand my situation more than Tiff, so I told only her.

  “No. I knew he was there for drug charges.” I felt dumb for not taking it a step further by looking at all the things he had allegedly done.

  “Girl, he’s abusive! Just Google him,” she said.

  I got up from my bed and headed downstairs to my desktop. I turned it on and surfed the Web for information on Clifton Moore. The first thing that popped up about him was that he was
an undefeated heavyweight champion. I scrolled down on the computer screen and read another link that stated: “Undefeated heavyweight champion Clifton Moore accused of domestic violence and assault on his longtime girlfriend Brittany Campbell.”

  I read the article, and by the time I was done, I realized that Cliff was a nutcase with a major anger problem. He didn’t appear that way to me at first, but now the signs were crystal clear. Cliff had gone back home, down South, and I felt so free. He had been smothering me ever since that day. I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to continue dealing with him.

  My plan was to keep my word, until Mr. Bennifeld confronted me with a magazine in his hand. I thought nothing of it, until he stopped at my desk with an angry look on his face.

  “What’s this?” He slammed the magazine down on my desk. The front cover of the magazine had a photo of Cliff and me getting in the black truck with bags in our hands. It read CLIFF’S HOT NEW LOVER.

  I was speechless.

  “What did I tell you ladies? No talking or sleeping with clients. That’s mixing business with pleasure, and I can’t have that,” he said while throwing the magazine away. “I’m sorry, Angel, but I have to let you go,” he said. He looked at me and shook his head before he walked back into his office. Once inside, he gave me one final look of disgust, and then he shut his door.

  I was hurt. It was like my heart had fallen though my chest. I was getting paid good money here at the law firm, and now I would have to kiss all of it good-bye. What were Crystal and I going to do?

  Tears almost fell from my eyes, until I saw Porsha in her doorway, watching me like a hawk. She came over to be nosy and to help me pack my shit. I knew in her head she was celebrating, but fuck that bitch. Before I left, she gave me a tight hug and took my number. We both promised to stay in touch. I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  After all of my belongings were in my backseat, I got in my car and drove off with no destination in mind. I rode around crying hard tears. I needed my job, and now all I had was the nightclub, and that wasn’t bringing in enough money as a primary source.

  The only thing I could think of was to call Cliff. He told me not to worry. He said he was making plans for me to move down to Atlanta very soon. He added that he would pay my bills this month. I had two choices: either I had to leave with him and let him take care of me or I had to come up with a way to make a living here in Chicago. That was something to ponder.

  After we hung up, I decided I needed a stress reliever. I knew that nothing relieved stress for me more than some new dick. I headed over to happy hour to let loose at Grami’s bar over on Grand Avenue. It was the afternoon, and I had a couple of hours before happy hour ended. I found a parking spot, parked my car, and turned off the ignition. I took one last look in the mirror. My face told a story of its own. I was stressed. I put my game face on and exited the car.

  Inside, there weren’t many people, but that was okay with me. I took a seat at the bar next to a young thug. He was accompanied by two other guys, and I listened in as they discussed the fact that he was coming up on a dice game.

  I flagged down the bartender and ordered myself a Sex on the Beach. When she came back with my drink, I pulled my money out of my bra and started counting it out for her.

  “I got it,” the young thug said while scooting my hand out of the way so that I couldn’t hand the bartender the money for my drink.

  I looked at him and cracked a smile. He had caramel-colored skin and shoulder-length dreads, which he had up in a ponytail. He had a little accent, but I couldn’t detect where he was from. He was rocking an orange and white Sean John outfit with some all-white Adidas.

  He was cute. He also looked like he had just turned twenty-one, maybe. Being that I had come to this bar only for a quickie, age wasn’t my concern. I put my money back in my bra and began sipping my drink through the straw.

  “The name’s Omar,” he said.

  “I’m Laya,” I told him as I got up from my seat. “Thanks for the drink.” I started walking away, and I already knew that I wanted him to fall victim to my goodies. I wanted him to chase me for them, so I headed over to the other side of the bar and placed my empty cup on the counter.

  “You want something else?”

  I turned around to see who this voice belonged to. It was Omar.

  “Sure. Are you stalking me, Omar?” I chuckled.

  “Hell, naw. I just wanted to make sure you was straight,” he said as he handed me a fifty-dollar bill before he walked off.

  I was impressed that he was impressed with me, or was he one of them crazy young stalker niggas?

  I ordered a shot of Hennessy and threw it in the back of my throat. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, so it never took much to get me drunk. After about four drinks, I was up looking for Omar. I found him in some short girl’s face. I tapped him.

  “Yeah?” He turned his attention to me.

  “Come on,” I said as if we had come together.

  “Where to?” he wanted to know.

  I grabbed his arm and led him out of the club. When we got outside, he stopped me.

  “Where we going?” he asked again.

  “You’re coming with me. I’ll bring you back when I’m done with you,” I told him as I unlocked the doors to my car.

  “You drunk? You don’t wanna do this.” He was still standing there.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re wasted and you don’t need to be driving. Call me when you sober up, and if you still wanna fuck, then I’m down,” he said. He walked up to me, took my phone from out of my bra, and put his number in my phone. He called his phone from my phone so that he could have my number, and then he handed my phone back to me. “Okay, I got your number. Go straight home, and I’m gon’ call you in ten minutes to see if you cool,” he said.

  I put my feet in the car, and he closed the door for me. I was disappointed. I had come there with every intention of finding someone to have a quickie with, and I was leaving empty-handed. I was halfway to my house when Omar called.

  “You cool?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m almost home.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, call me when you get there. I’ll swing by,” he said, sounding sexy with that accent.

  I hung up, thinking that maybe he just was afraid to ride with me. I pulled up to my house and almost forgot to put the car in park before taking the key out of the ignition. After doing that, I got out and headed to the front door. I barely got the door open. When I finally did, I stepped inside and then shut it behind me as I decided to lie down on the floor in front of it.

  I looked at my phone to see what time it was. My BlackBerry read 1:45 P.M., and I had to go get Crystal at 4:30. I had to squeeze a nap in somewhere, so that was what I did, right there on the floor.

  My nap was short and sweet. When I woke up, I looked at my phone. Two missed calls and it was 2:55. The two calls were from Omar, so I quickly called him back. I got up from the floor, and my head was doing 360s. I went to sit on the couch. After three rings, he answered.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m cool. I fell asleep,” I stated. I put my hand on my head as the room went round and round. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. Those drinks had kicked in earlier than I had expected.

  “So where do you stay?” he asked, getting straight to the point.

  I gave him my exact address, and he told me he had to drop off his friend and then he’d be on his way. I decided to try to get up and brush my teeth. My phone rang, and I picked it up off of the couch and looked to see who it was. It was Cliff. I sighed.

  Did I really want to answer this? I decided not to. I threw the phone back on the couch and headed upstairs. My head had slowed down from all the spinning, and I was starting to feel better. I heard the doorbell ring, and I hurried up and grabbed my toothbrush, put toothpaste on it, ran it under some water, and scrubbed my teeth and tongue. When I was done, I turned the water off and put the toothbru
sh on the counter. I wiped my mouth with my hand and headed downstairs.

  I opened the door, and Omar was standing there, looking sexy. I stepped out of his way so that he could enter. He handed me some Motrin and walked past me and into the living room. I followed.

  “How did you know I needed this?” I said with the tiny bottle of Motrin in my hand.

  “I figured. I was watching you throw them drinks back.” He chuckled.

  I sat down next to him. “So you were watching me?”

  He smile and nodded. “Just to make sure you was cool . . . not on no stalking shit,” he explained.

  I noticed that he had bedroom eyes, and that was exactly where I led him.

  My legs were in the air, and Omar was beating the pussy up. He put my big toe in his mouth while putting my other leg on his shoulder. He flicked his finger across my clit and thrust his body all at once. Talk about multitasking. I knew he had to be young, because the way he handled me was like no other.

  He slid his dick out and slid his tongue in. He twirled, slurped, and nibbled on me. I had a tight grip on the sheets, feeling like I could explode at any moment. He stuck his thumb in my ass while he still continued to eat me out. This was something new to me, and it made me feel so uncomfortable, but I didn’t dare complain. He was under for what felt like forever before he came up for air, and when he did, he began kissing me. He slid his thick dick back in and continued humping on me.

  He was crafted in the fucking game, and he treated this like an art. The positions he put me in were ones that I didn’t know existed, and every grind, hump, and lick felt like it had been perfected. I kept getting the urge to choke him or to find something to bash his head with, but then something in me would say, Calm down.

  There were a few times when I grabbed at his neck to choke him. Then I would end up pulling him close to me to kiss or to suck on his neck. I just wasn’t myself while sexing him. It wasn’t that I didn’t like this new me, because I did.

  When we were done, we held on to each other and I searched the bed for my phone.

  “What you looking for?” Omar asked.