by Nikki Turner
Showing his partner for the night a printed picture of Tiffany, they both exited the car. Making sure the doors were locked, the pair made their way to the club’s entrance. After allowing the bouncers to search them and paying the inflated fee to get in, Detective Dugan and Officer Jakes found an empty table. In a matter of minutes, they were seemingly swarmed by countless dancers begging them for a dance or a drink. All sorts of shapes and sizes, the two policemen discussed amongst themselves that no female that’d approached them up until this point was a real showstopper.
“Man, I ain’t lying. There’s a lot of these chicks that need to give up this bullshit as a career. I mean, they looking tore up from the floor up.”
“You ain’t lying!” Dugan easily agreed with Jakes. Sipping on his glass of fruit juice, he remarked that the weave most dancers were wearing probably cost more than the car he was driving. After sharing a few more laughs, the reason for their visit was finally called to the center stage. As the house lights lowered, the more the smoke machine kicked in. Before Chase knew it, his mouth dropped slightly open. Licking his drying lips, he stared into the face of one of the most beautiful women he’d seen in a long time. Of course, Simone Banks was a stunna in real life and his girl, so to speak. But this Tiffany girl oozed of the freaky, nasty, sexual “come-fuck-me-rough-and-hard-daddy” demeanor that only wet dreams and fantasies were made of.
Taking out Tariq’s cell phone, he dialed Tiffany’s number to see if she was the right girl. And as luck would have it, she took her cell out of her bag and looked at it before signaling for the DJ to start her music. Focused on every twist, turn, and spin she made on the brass pole, the man sworn to uphold the law was almost lost as to why he and Officer Jakes were there in the first place. Mesmerized by the multiple flashing lights causing the dancer’s bracelet and earrings to sway, sparkle, and stand out on their own, he had to work hard to concentrate.
“They know that’s mine. Bust it, baby. Everybody know that’s mine. Bust it, baby. Everybody know that’s mine.” The music played loudly.
Shaking off the erotic trance that had him engulfed, Detective Dugan informed his boy the vivacious female that’d just shown both her breasts and was parting her perfectly plump ass cheeks to the music playing was their girl. She was Tiffany, the possible link to not only two bank robberies, but two homicides as well.
“When she comes offstage I’m going to get her to come and sit with us. Maybe buy her a drink or two and see if we can pick her brain for any info,” he anxiously tapped the side of his glass with his fingertips. “Who knows, dude? Maybe with all that beauty she might be brainless. The girl might slip up and make our job that much easier.”
“Yeah, you right, Chase,” Jakes tried to be informal in case someone was ear hustling and could make out that they were cops.
“If we play this thing right tonight, we might both mess around and get promotions by daybreak. If not,” the detective teased still eyeballing the stage and Tiffany’s wide ass, “the unemployment office will be calling our names!”
* * *
Bunny had taken a long hot bath. After brushing her hair up into a messy bun, she applied her makeup as perfectly as she always did. Coming out of the huge walk-in closet, she was dressed in an outfit that Spoe loved to see her wearing. He always teased that it made her ass sit high and her tits look like they were saluting. Not knowing how the night would turn out, she packed a small overnight bag . . . just in case. Checking the floor-length mirror one last time, she left three sealed envelopes on her dresser, along with her favorite ring given to her by her beloved. Taking the framed photo of her and Spoe out of the bedroom and placing it on the mantle, she smiled. With nothing but her driver’s license tucked in her lace bra, five crispy hundred-dollar bills in hand, and her designer overnight bag, Bunny Banks locked up the condo. Leaving the house keys underneath the second flower pot on the left side of the porch, she felt confident. Slowly strolling to her car, she tossed the bag into the trunk.
The revenge-minded female started the engine, then checked her cell phone for the time. Oh, a bitch gonna pay tonight for fucking over me and my man! It’s about to be some real consequences for Miss Ratchet-Ass Tiffany! Concentrating on one thing and one thing only, she backed out of the driveway, then made her way outside of the gated community. On the way to the strip club Bunny rode in utter silence. There was no need to snap her fingers or bob her head to any music. There was no need to hear upbeat commercials about this party or that or whose upcoming concert was in the weeks to follow. She was deep off into her own zone and wanted to stay that way; at least until the vengeful task she wanted to complete was done. She had to be focused on her task at hand.
With less than five minutes away from pulling up at her destination, a strange sense of pride took over. Bunny began to have more flashbacks of the once-perfect life she and Spoe lived. The life that was now nothing more than a memory. Adding fuel to her already revengeful burning fire, Bunny relived in her mind the last time her lips touched Spoe’s and the last time he told her that he’d be forever hers. Seconds later, she was in front of the club handing her car keys to the valet. When the valet asked her how long she would be, she had absolutely no response. Blessing him with one of her five hundred-dollar bills, he automatically kept it up front with her keys close by. As the ecstatic valet and every other man waiting to gain entry into the club watched her walk by, they hoped and prayed Bunny, with all her curves, was going inside to audition for one of the club headliners. After allowing herself to be searched by a dyke female bouncer, Bunny stepped into the dimly lit establishment. Adjusting her eyes, she heard the music bouncing off the walls.
“Best believe she got that good thang. She my little hood thang. Ask around, they know us. They know that’s mine. Bust it, baby. Everybody know that’s mine. Bust it, baby. Everybody know that’s mine.”
Like most men who entered the club, Bunny’s attention shot to center stage. Taking a few steps toward the seminude performer, Bunny was now sure that was Tiffany. That was the dirty female that she’d seen coming out of Tariq’s apartment weeks ago and the one and the same ruthless bitch that was acting all gangster when she delivered the money to Ghostman. Bunny took a deep breath. She felt every beat of the loud-playing music penetrate her entire being. She was starting to feel the exact rage she felt when Deidra left this earth; a cold emptiness. Her head was pounding. A huge lump seemed to be lodged in her throat. No matter how much she tried to swallow, it wouldn’t go away. Here, this murderous setting-niggas-up home-wrecking whore was a few feet away, swinging from a pole trying to gank fools out of their money like it was business as usual. Fuck all that! Bunny’s world was turned upside down. She had to make shit right for Spoe. Point-blank and period, she had to let Tiffany know what she and her man Ghostman had done to her once-perfect life. She was suffering, so now Tiffany would feel the same type of pain.
Glancing over at one of the empty tables, Bunny noticed that someone’s steak dinner had arrived. Guessing the person was either one of the thirsty men at the flashing light-lit stage tipping that cash slut Tiffany or in the bathroom washing his hands, Bunny unwrapped his white cloth napkin and politely borrowed his knife. Standing back in the shadows, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Spoe’s woman waited for Tiffany to finish her set. That ho ain’t doing no VIP dances tonight unless it’s down at the county morgue!
* * *
Detective Dugan and Officer Jakes were too busy enjoying the show Tiffany was displaying that they never noticed Bunny lurking in the shadows at the side of the stage.
“Damn, I didn’t even think that was possible to do on a pole!” Detective Dungan took another sip of his fruit juice.
“You ain’t lying!” Officer Jakes put his hand up for a high five.
Detective Dungan soon felt a little uneasy when two strippers came by to offer him and his friend a lap dance.
“Can we offer y’all a dance in VIP?” The strippers gave them a little tease
with a shake of their asses.
Detective Dungan quickly put his hand up to stop them. “No, thanks, ladies. We already have that covered.”
“Let me guess, Tiffany, right?” One of the strippers turned around before shooting them the stink eye.
“That bitch is taking the only money left in this slow-ass shallow-pocket-having club. I’m going the fuck home!” The other stripper followed suit and flipped the detectives off.
“Damn, it’s brutal out here, huh?” Officer Jakes chuckled.
“We’ll be out of here shortly. It’s time to get this show on the road. I’ll be right back.” Detective Dungan walked toward the stage with a twenty-dollar bill out.
“Damn, Dungan, why do you get to have all the fun?” Officer Jakes laughed.
“It’s an unfair world, my friend!” Detective Dungan shouted back.
CHAPTER TEN
Pastor Cassius Street had just finished his evening service with the church’s prayer warriors. He was a little bit out of sorts, and they could easily see something was wrong but opted not to speak on it. He knew the Word of the Bible back-to-back, almost word-for-word. That was one of the many attributes he prided himself on. But this evening, he was off. Most of the scriptures he was quoting were off. Whether it was one word or the entire passage, he was off, and he was tongue-tied.
As he stood at the pulpit attempting to preach his motivational sermon, his manhood started to twitch. As much as the flamboyant preacher tried to fight off the evil, illicit thoughts of what had taken place earlier in the midmorning, he couldn’t. He couldn’t resist the chill bump-raising flashbacks of Ginger touching him. He closed his eyes to block out the sexually charged memory of the man who dressed as a woman caressing his body. Pastor Street didn’t want to enjoy Me-Ma’s grandson blessing him with the best head he’d ever experienced in life, but so be it. He had definitely enjoyed it. So much so that it was the only thought that occupied his mind and inner being since the moment he’d busted a nut and the second Ginger swallowed his seed. Now he wanted nothing more than to have all the women from the congregation that were known to do his bidding to leave. He wanted them to all say their finally good-byes so he could go into his office and stroke his meat raw while whispering Ginger’s name. Having already done so twice in the bathroom, once in his car, and secretly while his parishioners were bowing their head in prayer, he knew he had to have another taste of the girlie man.
“Okay, you ladies make sure to have a blessed night. And please drive home safely. You know the devil stay working overtime out in these dangerous streets.”
“Thank you, Pastor. You do the same,” they all replied in unison, heading toward their vehicles in the parking lot.
Locking the church doors, without breaking stride, he retreated to the privacy of his office. Dimming the lights, Cassius relaxed, sitting back on his plush black leather couch. Getting comfortable, he repeated Ginger’s name as he’d made him do while he was sucking him off. Ginger, Ginger, oh my God, Ginger! Yes, yes, oh my God, yes, just like that!
Unzipping his pants, the pastor groped his semihard dick. After squeezing it a few times, then yanking downward, he pulled it all the way out. Exhaling, he marveled how swollen the head was. He’d had plenty of pussy from many a woman and, shamefully, some ass from a few men, but absolutely nothing could compare to the feeling of sheer ecstasy that Ginger had brought about. Now here he was, Cassius Street, a head pastor of a major church in the city, caught up in his emotions feeling some sort of a way about another man. Hitting yet another lick, he shot his thick sperm across the room, landing it on the pages of an open Bible. Oh my God in heaven! Save me from myself! Please, help me fight this! The well-respected peddler of the Holy Word hoped his new obsession would not be his downfall.
Trying his very best to keep his mind on the sermon he was writing for the upcoming Sunday, Cassius’s thoughts went back to Ginger. Finally giving up on fighting his urges and making love to the palm of his hand, Pastor Street licked his lips. Removing the crumbled piece of paper out of the waste paper basket his new sexual obsession had scribbled his number down on, he briefly stared at it before dialing the digits. Three rings later, the man that’d easily swallowed two loads of his juice back-to-back answered.
“Yeah, this Ginger, so speak on it.”
“Hello.”
“Yes.”
“Hey.”
“Hey, who is this?” Ginger asked with a sassy attitude as if the world belonged to him and no one should even consider disputing that fact.
“This is umm . . . umm . . .”
“Look here, who the hell ever this is?” he snapped ready to attack a possible prank caller for wasting his breath. “I ain’t got time for the games. Now, final chance; who the hell is this?” After a brief silence from both him and the mystery caller, Ginger went all in for the kill. “Fuck it, I’m about to hang up on your silly self! I ain’t about to play no games!”
“Wait, it’s umm . . . me.”
“And who the fuck is me?”
“Pastor Street,” he hesitantly replied in a soft tone, as if someone was listening.
Ginger then recognized his voice and somewhat smiled. “Ohhh . . . hey, there, Pastor. You should’ve said it was you from the jump. I was about to hang up, then add this number to my blocked list of folk that work my nerves.”
“Oh, well, umm . . . I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .”
Ginger was used to down low dudes who pretended not to like other men being tongue-tied when they spoke to an openly gay man. They had a taste for a little roughhouse backdoor loving but didn’t want to admit it to themselves—let alone the world. “Don’t worry about it, Pastor. I understand. So tell me what you doing tonight?”
“Tonight?” he answered Ginger’s question with a question.
“Yeah, tonight, silly. What you got going on tonight, and can I have the same thing popping as you? I’m bored as hell and ready to have some fun. You up for it?”
Thrown off by Ginger being so forward, Cassius Street’s usually boisterous voice was full of confusion as he looked up at a hand carved cross hanging on the far wall of the office. “Well, I guess so. I’m just down here at the church finishing some paperwork.” He couldn’t help himself to the offering that was urging him all day.
“The church?” Ginger got up, reaching for his shoes, ready to roll out.
“Yes, umm . . . the church.”
Ginger had a long day and night. He needed some relaxation after dragging two bodies out of the crib and dumping them. He needed something to get his mind right, and sucking the pastor off again was just what the doctor ordered. “Okay, then, sweetie. I’ll be there shortly. Just hold tight and I’ll hit you when I’m at the front door.”
Saying a few prayers for salvation, asking God to pre-forgive him for the sins he knew he was about to commit, the good reverend felt like a kid in a candy store. Rubbing his hands together, he didn’t know what to do next. Ginger would be here soon, and if he had his way, Me-Ma’s grandson’s lips would be blessing his manhood with his almighty power.
Throwing the various religious books he had sitting on the arm of the couch into a corner, then tossing a few extra choir robes in the closet, Cassius was ready for whatever. Going into his private bathroom, he brushed his teeth, washed off his dick, and put on a small bit of cologne. Spraying some air freshener around the medium-size room, he anxiously sat back waiting for his cell phone to ring. Twenty minutes later, the pastor’s prayers were answered.
“Hey, now, bae. I’m glad you called me.” Ginger wasted no time pushing his way through the front double doors into the church’s inner sanctuary.
At a loss for words, Cassius nervously smiled in anticipation of the inevitable only seconds from taking place.
“Wow, it’s creepy as hell in here at night, by ourself, with all the lights dimmed.” Ginger sinfully pranced down the aisleway as Cassius’s eyes zoomed in on his perfectly shaped ass.
“It’s not tha
t bad,” he finally spoke, hoping he hadn’t invited the devil inside.
Ginger had not one bit of respect for the church Me-Ma called her second home. Breezing past the area his grandmother dropped dead at, he swooped up one of the blessed prayer candles from the altar. After telling Cassius to lead the way to his office, Ginger grinned, ready to pounce on the man of the cloth.
“Here we go.” He motioned for him to step into the office.
“Oh, so this is your private hangout, huh?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“Well, I guess this is where you do all your private one-on-one, get-right-with-the-Lawd sessions, huh?” Ginger laughed, kicking off his shoes before plopping down on the black leather couch.
Letting his guard down, the pastor returned the laughter and stopped fighting the feeling. “Yeah, one-on-one.” He wanted to jump Ginger’s bones and avoid the pleasantries.
Before either man knew what was taking place, they were wrapped in each other’s strong arms, sharing a deep, passionate kiss. As their wet tongues darted in and out of their mouths, their poles grew rock-hard. With Cassius being on top, he slow grinded his hips on Ginger’s female-like shape. Groping, sucking, licking, biting, tugging, and finally, raw dick fucking until the sun was about to come up, they were both in heaven. Pastor Cassius Street felt he had made some sort of a twisted, yet very secret love connection. While Ginger, on the other hand, was convinced his new lover would gladly sign the lease to Me-Ma’s house back over to him and his sisters—where it rightfully belonged. After all, Ginger wasn’t about to waste a perfectly good opportunity to be the hero in their die-hard situation.