After realizing she was highly aroused, I slid off her skirt and panties, beginning to kiss my way down to her feet. I stayed at her navel, then went down one leg at a time, sucking her toes. I came back up the inside, gently biting her inner thighs. Now I was at the love box. It smelled oh so good, I couldn’t help kissing it, then sucking in the already heavy flowing juices. She tasted so sweet, I stuck my tongue inside, twirling it around like I was licking a plate of my favorite dish. She was now ecstatic and shaking as I blew her clitoris and sucked it as she juiced a heavy orgasm.
I thought she would be done, but as she felt my still hard penis, she got on all fours and told me to hit that shit, to which I gladly obliged. We went at it, switching positions for an hour or so until we both climaxed. Now exhausted, we just lay there, holding each other. She asked the question, “So, who you smoke some weed with?”
I was stuck. I didn’t think she knew. At least, I know she ain’t dumb. I told her just some fellas around the way. I thought she was going to get into why I shouldn’t do it and don’t bring it to her house, but instead, she asked if I had any for her. I laughed, saying, “What, you smoke?”
She replied, “Yeah, on occasion. I don’t have to worry about getting dropped at work, so why not. Besides, it help me relax when I had a hard, long day. But I don’t do it often.”
I rolled up a joint to smoke with her as we continued talking. It just felt good laying next to her smooth, curvy body.
I had not done that in such a long time with someone I felt connected to. While we were smoking, she suggested I move in with her. I asked if she was serious. She told me that is what she gave me the key for. I agreed. She told me I could do anything I wanted there. Just don’t have no other woman, especially in her house, or don’t have backstabbing jealous niggas in there either. I agreed.
She began opening up to me telling me her whole life, from childhood to adulthood. She told about how she would have to play by herself as a child because her mother was always working and her grandmother, who would be babysitting, didn’t allow her friends to come in the house. Then she started telling me how she would make up imaginary friends to play with. I asked if she talked to them and laughed when she told me yes. I didn’t mean to, but it was funny and sad. I told her I felt her pain, and listened further as she told me about her school life. When she was a teenager, the girls at school would pick on her and always want to fight because she was prettier, more developed, and smarter than them. She told me about how all the boys would be after her too—another reason they didn’t like her. I was sentimental in telling her she been through a lot. I asked her questions like how she dealt with all of that. Didn’t she have cousins or sisters to play with? And did she have any dolls or toys? She told me she played with her cousins at barbecues, but that was it, and then not all time because they weren’t close either. I felt sorry for her. It seemed like she had a horrible life. I was relieved when she began telling me about her brother, whom she was close with but didn’t see much, and her high school friends, whom she was still acquainted with to this day.
She went back to the night we were at the club, telling me two of the girls with her had been her best friends since high school. They even went to the same college together. That it is some cool shit. You don’t find many men that went to the same high school and college together still friends long after they graduated.
I asked her a little about her brother before telling her about me. She told me very little, just told me he was always a loner as a kid, except for a few neighborhood friends he had. She didn’t see him much, mainly during the holidays.
I began telling her my life story, which wasn’t anywhere near as harsh as hers. I told her I grew up with just my mother and father in a small two-bedroom house that my mother sold after my father passed away when I was in the twelfth grade. I told her we were very close, always played board games together and watched TV shows or rented movies. I told her I had friends, but a lot of them ended up moving off to other states after college to pursue their careers. My mother died two years after I moved here. When I asked her about her father, she told me she didn’t know much about him. He left when she was seven years old and never came back. That ended our talking for the night. We went to sleep naked, joined in arms like conjoined twins.
I knew that I had to treat her right. I liked the way she made me feel. The feeling I got from her was something like no other. I mean, when I even thought of her, I got a tingly chill through my body.
The next morning, Jackie awoke before me, preparing me breakfast this time. I awoke to the smell and followed my nose to the kitchen, where my plate was already made and waiting for me on the table. I didn’t have to be told to sit down. I just did and devoured the deliciously prepared breakfast.
Talking over breakfast, Jackie planned out the day for us. We were to go to the art museum to view a new art exhibit (Jackie had a liking for good art), to the mall for some shopping, and to a movie and dinner. I had nothing to do but go along with her plans. She was the boss, and I could not have come up with a better one.
The museum was nice. I had never been to the museum before, so seeing the art exhibits opened my mind up to the different cultures around the world. We looked at the main one we had come to see—some rare carvings from a tiny tribal village in coastal Africa. Then we looked at some paintings, some statues and finally an exhibit from Egypt containing King Tut, Cleopatra, the Sphynx, and other Egyptian sculptures. We ended our visit on a good note and headed to the mall.
We didn’t go to the mall uptown but opted to go on the highway to one located in a suburb on the outskirts of the county line. The mall was huge, with all the major department stores. We window-shopped and bought some items before taking a break to sit down in the food court. We indulged ourselves in the fine food of pretzels and lemonade. I got a raisin pretzel, and she a cinnamon. Even watching her shop was fun. She wasn’t like the typical “take-forever woman.” She looked at something and knew if she wanted it right away. I was pleased to be a help to her by giving my opinion when asked. She told me the best way to shop was to have someone of the opposite sex or a gay person with you, because they liked to see someone attractive in the outfit. I laughed at that statement, saying, “Well, I don’t think I’ll have a gay dude with me, but I see your point.”
She just laughed and pinched me on the butt.
We left the mall with our bags headed for the movies. We didn’t plan what we were going to see, just went on impulse. We ended up watching some comedy stand up. It was funny as all get-out. Jackie was crying she laughed so hard. It was as if she had not had a good laugh in a long time. I didn’t bother to ask about it. I was just happy to see someone so happy. I laughed at it too, but I didn’t really appreciate it much because my mind was not fully there. I was preoccupied with other thoughts. My first thought was of my wife and kids, which Jackie didn’t know I had. I had forgotten about them too because I had to. Then I was thinking about Silencer and the crew. And of course, how soon it would be before I got to Darius Brown, the big-time drug pusher I was obligated to take down.
You see, Jackie didn’t know I was already working for the FBI. Nor did anyone else, because I had only enough clout to contact the department every so often. I didn’t contact Marcy and the kids because I had to tell myself they were dead to deal with the fact that I could not see them or be with them to keep them protected and to stay focused. Working undercover was always dangerous because if you blew your cover it could cost you your life and anyone close to you—usually your family if you were onto someone big. I thought I had had all the memories out, but sitting next to Jackie in the theatre made me think of Marcy, because we frequented the movies, so I had to snap out of it and get back into the role. I grabbed Jackie by the hand to draw her in close to me so I could give her a kiss. As she got close enough, I put my hand around her kissing her and told her I loved her. The look in her eyes was that of som
eone who had just been proposed to. She told me she loved me too and continued to watch the movie. The movie ended shortly after, which was good, because I was hungry. We didn’t go anywhere fancy for dinner; just some good old-fashioned hole-in-the-wall helped me to get back into undercover mode. I told her to let me pick the place for dinner since she had picked the museum, movie, and shopping. I picked a joint called Harry’s, a nice little chicken and fish shack on the border of the hood and the suburbs. Harry’s made famous for the great greasy fresh fish and chicken, served with your choice of wafer fries or shoestring fries and sweet potato pie. Harold, the owner, was a Jewish dude in his fifties but still got around like he was twenty. Jackie had never been here in her adult years but said she remembered coming when she was a teenager with her mother. I was a favorite here. They knew me by name. I ordered my usual—two Cajun-fried thighs and two wings with wafer fries, a slice of butter sweet potato pie, and a glass of squeezed lemonade. Jackie ordered the fish and chips. Dinner went by great. We ate, talked, got full, and went back to Jackie’s house.
While Jackie was in the shower, getting ready to display her new negligee, I put on some nice soft jazz, lit some candles, and dimmed the lights. She came out beautiful. The red matching two-piece with garter strap set was stunning on her. I went to take a shower so I could slip into something more comfortable too. I wanted to surprise her with something other than the usual sex we would have. I had bought a bottle of wine at the mall, which I had in the fridge chilling so we could sip and dance once I got out. I took a shower for about five minutes, put on my silk pajama bottoms she had bought for me, and surprised her with the glass of wine. She was ecstatic from the expression on her face. We danced awhile, finished off the bottle of wine, and talked until the wee hours of the morning.
3
BEING back in Belleview makes me think of everything I left behind. I look at the houses, parks, buildings, and everything else that’s so common here but missing in Milwaukee. I was called home to brief my commanding officers on what advancements were being made with the Darius case. I was going to be in town for only one day, so I had a lot to accomplish.
I had to meet Marcy and the kids at the arranged meeting place. I couldn’t do it at our house, for their protection, in case someone was onto me and followed me. I also had to take care of some meetings with investment partners I had. And last but not least, I had to go to the office, a secluded diner in the hillsides. The command post was set up there because it was unidentifiable to the untrained eye. No one but those in law enforcement would know about it.
The flight in took six hours, including the layover in Phoenix. I got in a nap on the plane, so I was energized ready to take care of business. Marcy and the kids met me in the shopping mall. We had to talk across the room from our cell phones. Whenever I was on assignment and came back into town, we would meet at different sites. This time it was the mall. She played it off as if she were waiting for her husband to come before deciding which movie to see all while talking to me. The conversation was the usual: how have things been going with the kids in school, how are the bills, how much we miss each other, and her telling me to be safe. Then we would head to the theatre to watch a movie of the kids’ choosing. We never let them see me because they were too young to understand my job, and it would be too hard to get away from them. After the movie, I went to the investors I was set up with to close on a land development deal. Then I was off to the commander briefing.
I gave the commanding officers my info on the case against Darius, explaining to them I couldn’t tie him to anything yet because he was out of sight. He doesn’t touch anything or come to the distribution location. All I got was a tap into his main worker, Silencer, and his crew, which was a good start. They gave me new info on what deals were going down and which dealers were making them. I have to admit, they knew a lot, even had pictures of me smoking with the crew. I was impressed. However, they had nothing on Darius either. Nothing even on the upper-level dealers, just street-level and house dealers. After the briefing, I was out, back to the airport, and on the plane.
From the airport, I drove to Cornell to check in on Silencer and the crew. They were inside an apartment that was to be used when it was cold outside. It was getting closer to winter, which meant the thermometer had started to drop. It was around forty or even thirty degrees outside, but with the wind, it felt a lot colder. Other than the lookout boys and a few foot soldiers, it was a ghost town. I had to think of a way to get more acquainted with Silencer so I could work my way into the clique. By doing so, I would definitely work my way to his supplier. So far, I didn’t have anything going other than letting him make fun of me to cater to his ego, but in time, I would devise a plan.
I finally got into the apartment after going through security checks. The room was dim from the cloud of weed smoke and blue light. It was a perfect setting if you were a true weed smoker. The sound of Tupac was playing just enough for you to feel the bass and soak in the evocative lyrics. The blue light was bright enough to see everyone and everything without a blur. And as I walked in, the conversation was a mere debate over which of the albums Tupac put out was the best. I joined in the conversation after purchasing my usual quarter ounce of Flyright, the street name for the highly potent strain of weed. The blunts was already there, so I was invited to roll one up, which was a good sign that things were looking up for building trust with the clique. I rolled up one and lit it. I took three pulls off the nicely-rolled stick before passing it to Do-Dirt. When asked which album I liked best, I said without a doubt it was Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z. I shared the same favorite as Red. He asked me which song was the best on there. I was glad to say “Violent.” The song was well versed over the sound of nice drums and cymbals. When listening to it, you instantly got sucked in to what Pac was saying. I asked if they had it in there so we could hear it to keep the debate going and prove Red and my point. Scooby put it on so we could listen to it. When it came on, we all got silent. The room became quiet except for the tunes playing, and if the sound of head nodding could be recorded, you would have heard it. The song played in its entirety without any interruption. After the song ended, in unison, everyone agreed about the tightness of the lyrics and beat. Each of us gave our opinion on which verse was the best. The topic was discussed briefly before another blunt was rolled and the song played again.
This time there was an interruption from a knock on the door. It was some ladies from down the hall, nice-looking young ladies, no more than twenty. It was five of them, three which I remember seeing outside one or more times I visited. The ladies came prepared to kick it. They had some weed and some drink, a bottle of Hennesey and apple juice. It appeared they had already knew who they would be kicking it with, even the fifth lady, because she aggressively came onto me. I was stunned at how she was bold enough to blurt out, “I want to fuck you” after first complimenting me on how good I looked. I was put in a no-punk-out situation, kind of like the time when a buddy of mine took me to a birthday party and told the birthday girl I was the stripper he had arranged for her. I was thinking about Marcy and Jackie, thinking to myself that I was sinking more and more, but I had to in order for the operation to be successful. With Shelly sitting on my lap, I soon forgot about Jackie and Marcy and transfixed on her nice frame and what she was whispering in my ear. After a few nibbles, I was all hers, at least for the time being.
We smoked some more, drank the drink, and before long, the crowd had shrunk. Silencer and his companion had vanished into one of the two bedrooms, and Do-Dirt and his girl the other. Off into a corner of the living room was Scooby and the nicely-built girl he had, leaving Red and me along with our phillies sharing the couch. Red and his girl moved to the chair, already half-naked, to take care of their functions, leaving Shelly and me the whole sofa. While engaged in some heavy kissing, I placed my hand in her panties, becoming immediately hard after feeling her wet, hairy vagina. I fingered her, getting her into the mood
a little more to make her ready for my nine inches. Her panties came off, along with her bra, displaying her cone-shaped breasts, bushy vagina, and nicely shaped ass. I lay back as she unzipped my pants, pulling out my manhood, gently stroking it with her soft hands. She went down, placing it in her mouth to my amazement, making me want her more. Fingering herself while sucking, I guess she was now ready to be taken, because she got on top of me and rode me like she was possessed. I came in less than five minutes. That was a first, I guess. It was the thrill of the surprise element of being with a complete stranger and in a room with other people. I can’t leave out the fact the vagina was good. I’m glad that didn’t happen with Jackie, cause then I would have been embarrassed, probably would not have been able to talk to her again, but with this broad, I cared but I didn’t. She was just a fuck that shouldn’t have even happened. I blame it on the alcohol. I kind of feel sorry for her, because she seem like a nice girl, just looking for love in all the wrong places. That don’t make it no better. I just contributed to her hurt, because I know what just happened ain’t going to go nowhere. Maybe I’m thinking too much into the whole situation. She could be wanting just a fuck. Oh well, forget about it. I gotta get going. I told her I would see her next time I came through and thanked her for the sex.
Incognito Page 3