Tiredness overwhelmed my mind and my body. Today had been a very successful day at Ché Mystic. I had grossed about a thousand dollars alone so I was straight. Not to mention that I still had about $175,000 put aside in the bank for a rainy day.
I relaxed in the recliner that sat in the plush family room of my apartment. I leaned back on the headrest and let my mind run and exhale all the stress that had been brought upon me. My heart felt heavy once again as I continued to lie there and think about the man whom I once loved and who once loved me. I turned to look out the window at the night sky and watched every star twinkle in the distance. I closed my eyes to thank God for His many blessings and to ask Him again why did He have to take Darnell away from me.
My eyes began to water as I let a lonely tear run down my face. I could feel how sad I had become the day he’d left this earth. I felt depressed and not to the point where I needed to kill myself but to where I needed to live in this world alone. Through all my shame and guilt that I carried around with me for letting him die there in that bank alone, I needed something or someone to help me relax and stimulate my mind; not physically but mentally as well. Someone to stimulate me to the point of no return. Maybe I do need to start watching TV more often.
Then I remembered Bryant’s phone number was still in my pants pocket. As I continued to sit I thought about how he’d left such an impression on me today. I got the number from my pocket and called him. I let the phone ring at least three times before he picked up.
“Yerp,” he greeted in a deep sexy voice.
“Hello, can I speak with Bryant, please?” I asked in a shaken voice. The nervousness sat so deep down in my soul that my underarms were starting to sweat.
“Who dis?”
“Ah, this is Juan. You came into my salon today. You were talkin’ to me about some DVDs that you were selling.”
“Oh yeah, the lil’ pretty dude. Wassup?” he asked as I almost swallowed my spit from what he’d said. He labeled me as the “pretty dude.” A smile immediately came across my face.
“Yeah, my name is Juan,” I said.
“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Juan. My bad if I offended you.”
“Oh, no, not at all. You didn’t offend me. I was just caught off guard,” I rebutted.
“Caught off guard, huh? Why? ’Cuz I said you was pretty?”
I was speechless.
“Naw. I didn’t think you looked at me that way, that’s all,” I said with my hands shaking.
“Oh okay, well, I call ’em as I see ’em, that’s all.” Once again he brought a smile to my face. “Listen, what are you doing now?”
“Well, right now, I’m not doing anything. Are you coming to my crib to show me the DVDs?”
“Yeah, I can do that. But first I have to get me sumthin’ to eat. I’m hungrier than a muthafucka.”
There was dead silence on the phone. I didn’t know what to say so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Well, I can make sumthin’ to eat and have it ready by the time you get here.” What am I saying? He gonna think that I’m some type of fag or sumthin’.
“Yeah, that’s cool. What are you cooking?”
“I can whip up a pot of spaghetti, if that’s cool with you,” I said, still shaking nervously with the phone in my hand.
“Aiight, bet. You must really know how to throw down in the kitchen, huh?” he said, laughing.
“I do aiight. I ain’t no Betty Crocker or nuffin’ like that,” I responded.
“Aiight, well, do this. Give me ya address and I’ll be there in like an hour. I gotta go handle sumthin’ real quick.”
I quickly gave him my address and told him to have the lady downstairs buzz me when he arrived. I threw the phone on the couch and rushed into the kitchen to find a pot to boil some water. It wasn’t enough time to thaw out the ground beef so I jumped in my car and hurried down the street to the supermarket. Am I going out of my mind?
I was sitting there in my living room feeling sorry for myself and now I was about to fix a nigga who I don’t even know something to eat. What state of mind was I in to be giving him my address and telling him I would cook for him? For all I knew he could be a mass murderer. Juan, you just need to think. Take a minute and think.
The gun that was placed under my bed some time ago by Darnell was still there if I had any problems. My building was very secure if someone were to come and try to kill me. With all that at hand I figured I should be cool.
While I let the noodles simmer on the stove I quickly jumped in the shower and put on some sweet-smelling oil to have the mood set by the time he arrived. Instead of wearing my usual jeans and fitted shirt I replaced the outfit that I had on earlier with a pair of black Rocawear velour sweats, a wife beater and a pair of Nike sweat socks with matching Nike flip-flops. I put my hair back into a ponytail held by a rubber band instead of a Scrunchie.
Within a half-hour my creation of a meal of spaghetti was done. I turned the radio on and popped in Mariah Carey’s new CD and let number two play. As “We Belong Together” filled the air I poured a glass of wine to help relax my anxious mind. I sat down on the couch and listened to the entire CD. I must have dozed off for a minute because the next thing I knew the CD was not playing and the hour that Bryant had told me he’d be here had turned into three.
I looked up at the huge clock that hung on the living room wall and it read a quarter to one in the morning. I palmed my face in my hands thinking how naïve I could have been about this boy. I was acting like a high school girl that has a crush on someone from the football team. The buzz from the speaker on the wall startled me. I got up and walked over and pressed the “talk” button.
“Yes,” I said, letting the button go and waiting for a response.
“Mr. Jiles, a gentleman by the name of Bryant Thompson is here to see you,” responded the Asian female voice on the other end.
“Thanks, Trudy. You can send him up.” After giving her the orders I ran into the bathroom to find the toothbrush and toothpaste to brush away any odors that formulated in my mouth while I was asleep. I brushed heavily and spit out the excess water into the bowl when the doorbell rang. I wiped my mouth and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading down the hallway to the door.
I unlocked the door and there Bryant stood wearing the same gear that he’d had on earlier. His eyelids hung low as if he was super high.
“Wassup, shawty,” he said, walking in, taking my hand and balling it up and letting our shoulders touch. “My bad for being late. I’m hungry as shit. Where’s the grub?” he asked, walking into my apartment and looking around.
“It’s in the kitchen, I have to heat it up,” I answered.
“Damn, this crib is bangin’. You live here by yourself or does your bitch live here too?” He continued to walk throughout the living room while grabbing his crotch.
“Naw, I live alone,” I said, yelling from in the kitchen while turning on the stove.
“Oh, aiight, dat’s wassup. Can I sit down?” He pointed to the loveseat.
“Sure, go ahead. Did you bring the DVDs?”
“Shit, I forgot them. They in the car, I’ma get ’em after I eat ’cuz a nigga is starving.”
I fixed him a big plate of spaghetti with the sauce deliciously towering over the noodles. He came to the kitchen table and sat down and we began to eat. I watched his every move as he slurped each noodle in his mouth. This nigga was turning me on.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, getting up and opening the refrigerator.
“Sure, what you got?” he asked, lifting his head from his plate and placing his eyes on the way my ass stood out in these sweats.
“What you want?” I asked seductively. He then turned from me and back down to his plate.
“Just grip me a soda,” he said as I reached up to the cabinet to get a glass to pour him some grape soda.
“Ayo, call some bitches,” he said out of nowhere. I was completely caught off guard as I tried to res
pond the best as I could.
“Who do you want me to call?” I said, sitting back down at the table and eating my food.
“Just call some bitches, do you know any?” he asked almost finishing his food.
“Naw,” I responded.
“How a pretty muthafucka like you don’t know any bitches?” He paused for a minute waiting for the answer. I thought quickly.
“All the bitches I know of have boyfriends.”
“Oh aiight.” We both finished our plates. He then got up and ran down to the parking lot to retrieve some DVDs while I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen.
By the time he came back I was done my duties in the kitchen and was ready to relax on the couch. He came through the door with only one movie in hand.
“Yo, have you seen Tyler Perry’s Diary of a Mad Black Woman yet?” he asked, walking toward me with the movie.
“Naw, I saw the play but not the movie.”
“Yo, this shit is funny. Here, put it in,” he said, handing me the movie. I got up and walked over to the entertainment center where I placed the DVD in the machine. He sat back on the love seat.
“Yo, you got an ashtray?” He pulled a bag of weed from his pocket along with a Philly Dutch. I went into the kitchen to get an astray from the cabinet. I normally kept them for when Anthony came over because I didn’t smoke. I handed him the ashtray as he began to roll himself a fatty.
By the time he lit the Dutch, the movie was just beginning. I watched as Kimberly Elise acted as stupid as she looked when she was being cheated on by that ugly-ass black man. The least Tyler Perry could do is have a cute man to play the part of her husband.
“Here,” he said, handing me the Dutch with swollen cheeks. I didn’t know whether I should take it or turn it down. Then I thought of my life and how it never seems like I do much of anything to have fun. I took the Dutch.
I inhaled it and swallowed the smoke like Darnell had taught me. I exhaled, then inhaled again. This time I gave it a long pull. I felt the smoke clouding my mind as I began to cough a bit.
“That shit is good, ain’t it?” He reached out for me to pass it back to him. I passed the Dutch as I tried to get my focus back to the movie. Out of the corner of my eyes I noticed him unbuckling his belt. I looked over to him with a confused look.
“What are you about to do?” I asked as he continued to blow smoke circles into the air.
“I’ma finish smoking this Dutch while I get my dick sucked. That’s what I’m about to do,” he replied. “Now come over here and head-sprung this shit, nigga.” I got up, walked over to him, dropped to my knees and did as I was told.
VI
DICKNOTIZED
“Yeah, that’s it. Do what you do,” said Bryant as I dropped to my knees. After unbuckling his belt buckle he unzipped his pants. I saw his hard dick ready to explode from his white-and-navy-blue boxers. I grabbed his pulsating rod and rubbed it back and forth looking up at his face as he continued to blow smoke circles.
He leaned back into the love seat still putting the Dutch to his lips. I released his throbbing muscle through the slit of his boxers and began to taste it with my tongue.
I massaged his mushroom head between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. He tasted so good to me. The lighted reflection from the television bounced from the walls as the movie continued to play. Still taking pulls with one hand, he grabbed the top of my head with the other pushing me down onto his chocolate nine inches. He placed the Dutch into the ashtray before he palmed my head with both hands pumping himself harder and harder into my mouth.
The hanging saliva along with his pre-cum escaped the sides of my mouth dripping down onto his shaft and falling directly on his pubic hairs.
“Damn, dude, that shit feels so good.” He let out a huge sigh. My jaws began to tense as he started to pump faster. I began to gag from the force of him gagging me with his pole. “That shit is proper,” he said with his eyes closed as he leaned his head back against the couch.
After a few more pumps deep into my mouth he let out the biggest explosion down my throat. Without stopping I continued to suck his strawberry cream until it was deep into my belly. I licked his dick bone dry.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he said, sticking his dick back into his boxers and reaching over to the ashtray to re-light his Dutch. As he lit it I grabbed his arm and placed it around my body as we both sat on the love seat and continued to watch the movie.
“For real?” asked Anthony with excited eyes as we sat at an outdoor restaurant table on the curb of South Street. I was just finishing up my stack of Buffalo wings when I began telling him about my sexual night.
“You have got to be kidding me. What made him do that?” he asked, filling his mouth with garden salad.
“I guess, ’cuz he knew I looked good. I knew he wanted me from the jump,” I said feeling very vain as I began to lick my fingers.
“Bitch, you better work. Does he have a girlfriend? Or I boyfriend, should I say?”
“Not that I know of. If he does, he didn’t act like it. After I sucked his dick we watched a movie and then from there it moved into the bedroom and bitch, trust me when I tell you. He broke my BACK,” I continued to explain as we both started to laugh.
“Oh shit,” he said, trying not to spit out his food. “How big is he?”
“He’s about an eight or a nine. Shit, maybe nine and a half. Bitch, it’s not like I had a ruler handy.”
“Well, can he work it?”
“Can he?” I said as my eyes widened. “That nigga almost knocked my tooth loose,” I responded.
“Now see that’s what I need,” said Anthony. “Someone that can bring it like it needs to be brought.” Anthony stopped and took a sip of his pink lemonade.
“Are you going to your hair show tonight?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Would you like to come along?” I asked him as I gripped my glass and took a sip of Merlot.
“I guess so. I don’t have shit else to do. Darrell is in the streets as always,” he said.
I set my glass down on the table as a mob of people filled the streets on this lovely spring day.
“Whatever happened to that dude Reggie that you introduced me to?” I asked.
“Man, he was corny as hell. And he was dirty. How you gonna have a professional basketball player in your family and dress dirty?” he said, talking with his hands. We both laughed.
“Well, I’ll go to the hair show for a little while but then Bryant’s supposed to be stopping through again,” I said, raising my arm above my head and snapping my fingers.
“Okay, then let’s go. Check, please,” Anthony said, waving toward the waiter to get his attention. He paid for both of our meals and we left the restaurant. We walked along South Street with my soul feeling good. That’s just what I needed: some good sex to help me get through my life. As we walked into the RBK store my cell phone rang. It was Bryant.
“Hello,” I said.
“Wassup, Shawty?” he asked in his ever-so-sexy voice. My heart melted hotter than vanilla ice cream in an oven. I then became dreamy-eyed and all I could do was block out everyone around me and focus on him.
“Hey, Bryant. How are you?” I asked, walking over to the curb to let the other people pass while Anthony proceeded to walk into the store.
“I’m aiight, what you up to?” he asked.
“I chillin’ out with my boy. We’re at South Street.”
“Oh, you at South Street, huh? You gonna pick me up sumthin’?” he asked as I held the phone tightly to my ear.
“Sure, what do you want?”
“Just grip me a pair of sneeks. Some Jordans, na’mean?” I was flattered that he had asked me to buy him sumthin’. I was really feeling the love that came from him.
“Okay, Bryant. What size do you wear?” I asked, smiling.
“You can grip me a ten and a half.” I could tell he was smoking something. I could hear him blow through the phone.
“I got you. Will I be seeing you this evening?” I asked excitedly.
“Yeah, I’ma come through like around twelve, aiight, shawty?”
“Okay.”
“Aiight, I’ll holla.”
“Okay.”
“One.” Then the line went dead. I closed my cell phone and walked into the store where Anthony was. The sounds of Lil’ Kim’s “No Time” filled the store as there were employees rushing around trying to get their customers situated and wall-to-wall cuties. The store was mixed with all types of races from blacks, whites, Chinese thugs holding tight to their Chinese girlfriends, and then there was Anthony and me.
I walked straight to the back where Anthony stood checking out a shoe. He stood there with his hands on his hips.
“These niggas can’t take me,” he said, trying to get someone’s attention who could help him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him as I noticed his face starting to get a little red.
“Excuse me. Can I get some help,” he hissed at the young Asian man who seemed to be out of breath. He came over to us.
“Can you get me this in a seven?” Anthony gave him the shoe.
“What’s wrong?” I asked again taking a seat on the bench.
“Some dude called me a faggot,” he said, now annoyed.
“Who?”
“That nigga over there.” He nodded his head in the direction of four teenage males. None looked older than eighteen. When I turned my head to view them, they all were leaving the store.
“Don’t worry about them,” I said. “They’re probably some young broke-ass ghetto kids,” I continued. The Asian guy returned with Anthony’s shoe.
“Do you need to try this on?” he said, taking the shoe out of the box.
“No, I already know it fits. Thanks.” Anthony grabbed the box from the guy and walked to the cashier.
“Are you okay?” I asked, following him in tow.
“This shit pisses me the fuck off.” He pulled out his money to pay for the shoes when the thought popped in my mind that I needed to pick up Bryant a pair of Jordans.
In Love with a Thug Page 5