B00B1W3R6U EBOK

by J. , Anna

  Pushing James over to the couch, he sat down with a thud, as Monica stood over top of him, holding him by his tie. Squatting down on his length, she moved slow and then fast, contracting her vaginal muscles around his shaft, causing him to explode inside of her almost immediately.

  Monica being a pro, she kept him inside of her, working her muscles until he was stiff again, bouncing up and down on him like she was auditioning for a rap video. James held on to Monica’s waist as he sucked hard on her nipples, adding to her pleasure. He reached between her legs and softly tugged on her clit ring until she threw her head back in pleasure. They climaxed together, evidence of their session all over his stomach and pubic area.

  Monica got up and stepped away from him, bending over to remove all of their juices from his penis with her mouth, causing him to explode in the back of her throat one final time.

  Allowing James to catch his breath, she stepped over to his desk and retrieved the chilled bottle of Moet she brought for their meal. Pouring the clear liquid into two flutes, Monica offered one to James, opting to remain standing in front of him. He didn’t even bother to adjust his clothes, downing the champagne like it was spring water.

  Finally daring a look at Monica, his length rose to the occasion again at the sight of her. He knew he was dead wrong, especially since he and Jazz had just made love that morning. Once again he didn’t use protection, and that alone had him knocking himself in the head. Turning her back to him, Monica straddled James again. With his head leaned back against the sofa, he just enjoyed the ride, deciding to worry about the consequences later.

  “James . . .” Monica moaned softly. Her body movement slowing down as her orgasm approached. “Can I cum, papi?”

  Instead of responding, James pumped back harder, causing Monica to almost fall off him. Motioning for her to stand up, he stayed inside of her as he bent her over his desk, recklessly driving into her, trying to hurt her purposefully. Monica was staring at the photo of him and his family the entire time, in her mind replacing James’s image with her own.

  “Monica,” James said as he banged her back out like a madman, “make this your last time coming to my office. It’s over, you hear me?” Monica took too long answering, so James drove into her harder, her breasts bouncing against the side of the desk.

  “I said do you hear me?”

  “Yes, I hear you. Please . . . you’re hurting me,” Monica came back, still surprised at James. He had never sexed her with so much intensity, and for once, she couldn’t handle it.

  Instead of stopping, James continued his barrage against her swollen cave, holding her up as her knees tried to buckle under her. Hitting it hard, he didn’t pull out until he was about to explode, doing so all over her braids and back. Stepping away from Monica’s crumpled form on the floor he stepped back into his clothes, afterwards taking a sandwich from the basket.

  “Have my office back to normal by the time I get back,” James threw over his shoulder as he gathered his keys and made his way to the employee shower room at the end of the hall.

  Monica sat for a moment longer, gathering the feeling back into her legs. First disconnecting the camera and checking to make sure she had clear footage of what took place, she put what little clothes she had back on and straightened the office back up, leaving a sandwich and soft drink on his desk before exiting.

  On her way out the door, she noticed Jasmine at the front desk talking to the old white lady that should have been there when she came in. Not wanting to be noticed, she walked quickly toward the side exit, tipping the still smiling guard on the way out, and then the valet as he pulled up in her convertible.

  Screeching out of the parking garage, she sped all the way home, leaving the basket in the car as she raced to her room so she could do a headstand before any of James’s semen seeped out of her. It could be her last chance at getting pregnant, and she didn’t want any problems making it happen.

  Reality Check

  The short walk from the car to the menacing gates of the correctional facility seemed to take an eternity as the sun beat down on Monica’s head. On the inside she felt like she deserved the torture because she knew she easily could have been the one behind those four stone walls, calling this place home for many years. She tried to harden her heart as she approached the desk, but her soul wouldn’t allow it.

  This visit wasn’t like the many times she’d visited her baby sister because she had committed some petty crime. This was a matter of life, death, and the well-being of a three-year-old who didn’t understand his mother’s predicament. This was reality, coming face-to-face with the real. Her legs told her to leave, but her soul made her stay.

  Approaching the desk slowly, she took in the rough faces of the security guards—both male and female, but some hard to tell the difference. While waiting her turn, she observed the impatient girlfriends, baby’s mommas, and family members suffering in the sweltering waiting area in order to see their loved ones.

  Women in jeans so tight she was sure they would have a yeast infection by the end of the visit sat and conversed with other females they recognized from their weekly visits to the pen. Seeing belly shirts and extravagant weaves and too much skin showing to be appropriate for visiting an inmate, Monica wondered how long they had to wait for their male counterparts to come from the prison down the street. Although Monica had never been to the female holding facility, she knew the men were housed in a separate unit.

  “Who you here for?” the slightly overweight guard barked from behind the podium. Monica looked into her bulldog-like face and almost vomited on the paperwork that sat in front of her from the stench of the guard’s breath. The only way she knew it was a woman was from the tone of her voice and the fact that she had breasts.

  “I’m here to see Tanya Walker,” Monica responded as another whiff of the guard’s foul breath made her take a step back.

  The guard didn’t seem to notice as she searched the books to make sure Monica was on the visiting list for Tanya. Searching her purse for the identification Tanya said she would need to get in, Monica placed it on the desk while the guard called over to the holding block to have Tanya come down. Monica checked her attitude as the guard looked over her ID and then set it on the desk as if

  it wasn’t handed to her. Monica wouldn’t show her anger. She drove too far to be turned away, and she would deal with the guard when she got back.

  Taking her seat after she put her belongings in a locker and turned her twenty-dollar bill into coins so that she and Tanya could have something to eat from the snack machines, Monica sat patiently waiting to be called to the back. The woman sitting next to her was trying to keep her baby quiet.

  Her skirt was so short you could see her dingy panties underneath, her outfit broadcasting legs so white from ash you could write your name on them. Monica laughed to herself as she remembered a joke from her childhood about the woman looking like she worked in a flour factory.

  When the guard called the name out for the woman’s jailbird boyfriend, she hurriedly got her stuff together so she could get up front, her body smelling like a combination of piss and cheap perfume. Monica placed a finger under her nose discreetly as not to embarrass the woman as she struggled with the baby and a diaper bag on her way up. Monica was lost in her own thoughts for a second, trying to steady her nerves. It had been over three years since she’d laid eyes on Tanya, and she hoped she could handle being that close to her again.

  The commotion broke into her thoughts as she witnessed two women up front having a shouting match and the guards doing nothing to stop it. Being nosey, Monica eased a little closer so that she could hear what the drama was about. When she got up there, the woman who was sitting next to her and an equally tacky ghetto queen were having a debate about who was going inside.

  Apparently both of the women were there to see the same guy, and came to find out they were cousins. The woman sitting next to Monica had his child who only looked to be a few months old, and the
one she was arguing with looked to be about seven months pregnant. The pregnant female knew her cousin had a baby by him, but that didn’t stop her from testing the waters before he got locked down the last time.

  The guards sat back in amusement as the ladies went on and on about who should get to see him. After several minutes of nonstop bickering, Monica thought the women were going to come to blows as the one holding the child sat her baby down on a nearby chair as if the infant could hold itself up.

  After seeing that, the guards decided to finally break it up, telling both the women to leave for causing a disturbance in the waiting area. The women were still going at it as they walked out the door, the pregnant one going toward the bus depot, and the other going toward the parking lot.

  “Family for Ms. Tanya Walker!” the manly female guard called out, getting everyone’s attention. Holding her change purse tightly in her hand, Monica walked up to the front, following the guard who was escorting her to the back.

  Halfway down the hall, the two came to another waiting area where Monica was fingerprinted and checked for contraband. The bulldog-looking guard came back and told Monica to step out of

  her shoes and clothes so she could be searched for anything illegal that the detectors didn’t pick up.

  “You want me to take my clothes off?” Monica asked the guard, surprised at her request. Had she known she would be going through all this, she wouldn’t have made the trip.

  “All of them so I can see those pretty titties,” she came back with a dirty look on her face like she wanted to eat Monica alive right there.

  “Where is that in the rule book? I was never told about a strip search,” Monica came back, angrily refusing to take any article of clothing off. She didn’t know the law like that, but she knew she had some rights.

  “Leave the girl alone, Tommy,” a guard said from behind her. “Miss, put your purse in the tray and walk through the detector, please.”

  Thankful for the interruption, Monica was more determined to deal with the guard when she came out as she took one last look at her. Somehow she would get the info needed from one of the visitors or guards before she left. She would have a nice little surprise waiting for her once she left work.

  Entering the room, Monica spotted Tanya immediately. From across the room she could see Tanya’s sad expression as she sat at the table with her arms folded in front of her waiting for Monica to come over. She didn’t stand when Monica approached the table, and Monica had a little salt on her shoulders because she was waiting to give Tanya a hug. Taking the seat across from her, they said nothing as they studied each other.

  Prison was not going well for Tanya. Her once long, jet black hair that flowed past her shoulders in a stylish wrap was now braided into cornrows straight back off her face. Although her skin was still clear, she now sported a small, jagged scar above her right eyebrow, no doubt from a fistfight behind these walls. Her acrylic nails that always had a fresh French manicure were now bitten down way past the cuticle, and her pretty, pedicured feet were sporting Timberland boots.

  Monica resisted the urge to cry as she sat looking at her former lover. She instantly regretted having Tanya in this horrible place, but not the circumstances she was there for. Had she not murdered Marcus he would have surely murdered Tanya, putting her six feet under instead of in these human cages.

  “When am I getting out of here?” Tanya spoke, skipping the pleasantries and getting right to the point, catching Monica off guard. Monica leaned back in her seat to get a good look at Tanya, not expecting their visit to go like this. Tanya was usually soft-spoken, unlike the angry woman sitting in front of her now.

  “Well, I talked to the judge yesterday, and he’s working on your paperwork now,” Monica said in a calm voice, still not liking the direction their conversation was taking.

  “Do what you do best, I just need to get out of here.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Monica said, her temper rising quickly.

  “It means,” Tanya began in a slow deliberate voice, “that I don’t care if you have to fuck him, suck his dick, and take back shots from all of his judge friends in the same night. I want out of this hellhole. I want to be with my son,” Tanya responded, trying to control her tears. She said she wasn’t going to cry, and she was determined to hold it down.

  “Well, Tanya, I’m doing the best that I can, and ...”

  “Fuck the best, Monica!” Tanya came back almost knocking the chair back. “Do you know what it’s like to be in here?”

  Tanya began telling Monica how it was to have someone tell you when and how to make every move. How privacy was nonexistent as you showered, went to the bathroom, and lived your life in front of five thousand other inmates. How she had to fight the women off in the beginning because she was what they considered “fresh meat.”

  She drilled into Monica’s head about all the nights that she laid in her cell and cried because she could no longer come and go as she pleased. How she would never see her son’s smiling face. She told Monica about her fear of her son forgetting who she was because he was only a couple of months old when she was put away. She reminded Monica about all the birthdays she missed, and her child’s first steps.

  She told her of the pain she was in when she miscarried her second week in jail because she had gotten into a fight with one of the other inmates, and she didn’t know she was pregnant. It tore her up carrying around a secret inside of her because she thought Monica would come back for her, and she had left her hanging in there to rot, not giving a damn what happened to her next.

  Monica shed tears as she listened to Tanya’s story, thanking God on the inside that she didn’t have to go through such torture. Monica was a crazy bitch, but not half as crazy as she thought. They would have eaten her ass up on the inside, and she knew it. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knew now that being behind bars and being taken away from your family was some serious shit, and she had to do what she could to get Tanya out.

  “Tanya, I know sorry isn’t enough, and I will see the judge again in the morning so we can speed up the process. I’ll do what I can to get you out of here.”

  “Monica, I loved you, and you don’t know how it hurt for you to do what you did to me. I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, just get me out of here.”

  “Tanya, I will...I will.”

  The two women embraced for what felt like an eternity as they calmed their wildly beating hearts. The two spent the rest of the visit catching up and making amends as they ate snacks from the vending machines.

  Before Monica left, one of the visitors from the waiting room approached her. She had peeped the altercation between Monica and the female guard, and shared her disdain for her. On the way out she showed Monica where the guard’s car was parked, and both the women slashed all four tires, getting into their respective vehicles only after the woman poured a bag of sugar into the tank of the beat-down Honda. She had already planned on messing the car up anyway because the guard had given her a hard time on her last visit, and after seeing what she did to Monica, she thought Monica would want her revenge too.

  The two women exchanged numbers, both seeing that they had a lot in common from the way they dressed to the vehicles they drove, hers canary yellow and Monica’s hot pink. As if the world needed two women like Monica. The women exchanged brief hugs before getting into their respective vehicles and driving away. When Monica got to the stoplight, she took one last look at the card before putting it into her glove department.

  “Shaneka Montgomery, World Class Photographer. Who would have thought?” Monica responded as she sped off before the light could turn yellow, glancing at her cell phone and ignoring the thirty-seven calls she’d received from Sheila since that morning. She had to go talk to the judge, and tomorrow would be too late.

  Payback’s A Bitch

  Breaking record speed, Monica pulled up to the judge’s hideaway, searching for her key in the glove compartment before s
he exited her vehicle. Calling the judge before she got there to make sure he would show his face, she popped her trunk and grabbed her duffel bag with tapes of him with several women just in case she needed some extra reinforcements.

  Upon entry into the judge’s small house his wife knew nothing about, Monica frowned at the dusty room, opting to sit her bag in a corner where she could retrieve it later. Taking the liberty of lighting the vanilla candles she had strategically placed around the living area, Monica opened a few windows to let in some fresh air to the otherwise stale environment. From the amount of dust on the sheets she had placed over the furniture, she could tell no one had been there in months.

  Removing the dust covers so it could look more like home, Monica placed them in the washing machine located in the shed kitchen so they could be ready to be put back once they left. Stomach growling a little, she instantly regretted not stopping for groceries; she grabbed one of the menus off the counter to order something to eat.

  Monica turned the television on to occupy herself. She flipped through channels as she waited for her food to arrive. A few minutes later she heard a key being inserted into the door, and the judge’s face appearing soon after. Not bothering to greet him, she turned back to her task of turning the channels, deciding on Wheel of Fortune and checking her watch to see how much longer she had to wait to eat.

  Judge Stenton was a handsome man, not looking anywhere near his fifty-something years. The little patches of gray at his temples showed signs of age, but the judge in full form looked good enough to eat. Standing at least six feet five inches, the judge had to bend slightly to clear the entrance of almost any building he entered. Not quite light skinned, but not really caramel, he fell somewhere in between a golden glow and sunset, turning heads wherever he went.

  The fact that he worked out five days a week certainly helped, and his use of weights and morning power walks showed in his legs and upper body. Judge Stenton was well put together, and many women were killing themselves for the chance to have one night with him. How he and Monica hooked up was not that much of a mystery, but what kept them together was a sin.