by M. T. Pope
“Depends on who you know!” His face was still as stern as it was when he’d walked up to my car. This brotha was about his business. If he was trying to holla at me, I couldn’t tell, and I was an expert.
“I’m a friend of Kenny. I was in the joint wit’ him. He told me to get at you if I needed any work when I got out.” I marveled at myself because even I was impressed with what I was spitting.
“Man, that’s all I needed to hear,” he said, his hard exterior softening. “Let’s take a ride around the block, so we can talk”
I unlocked the passenger door, he hopped in, and I pulled off.
Wallace hadn’t the slightest clue I was playing his ass. When I was locked up, word got back to me that he’d helped Kenny’s baby mama, Keisha, set him up for some extra dough. I was going to use him to get Keisha back and get me some more dough in the process. From the looks of him, he was dressed like an average joe, you know. Nothing flashy, but just enough to keep the girls hollering at him.
“Yo, what they call you?” he asked me.
“James.” I decided to give him my real name. I was getting tired of being two different people. That shit was exhausting.
“So how did you know Kenny?”
“Oh, we just served some time together.” I lied.
He said, “Oh, okay,” like he didn’t believe me. “So what you get locked up for?”
His ass sure was nosy. I shrugged it off because I would be too if I was in the position he was in. “Attempted murder.”
“Oh, okay,” he said again, like he wasn’t believing me one bit.
After a few seconds of silence, he burst out in laughter. “Man, you’s a straight-up liar,” he said, a big smile plastered on his face.
He caught me off guard. I was totally dumbfounded now.
“Look, man, let me be straight wit’ you. I know all about you and Kenny.”
“Excuse me!” I said, faking a serious look on my face. I was shocked, to say the least.
“Yeah, I know you and Kenny was fuckin’. We was fuckin’ too.”
“What!” I pulled over to the side of the road to get myself together. “Y’all was what?”
“Man, stop actin’ all surprised and shit…like you was the only one. Who you think he was goin’ to Club Bunz wit’?”
My mouth continued to hang open as he dropped another bomb on me.
“Yeah. And I was the one who helped his baby mama set Kenny up too. She didn’t know we was fuckin’ either. And the only reason I helped her set him up was to get him out the way so I could get at you.”
“Really?” I said now, a smile on my face. A nigga always liked to feel wanted. My ass was really cheesing now.
“Yeah, man. I been trying to get wit’ you the first time I saw you pick him up off the block a couple of times. A fine-ass nigga like you is a hot commodity on the streets.” His hand now made its way over to my lap, and he was squeezing my thigh.
I instantly became aroused, and from the looks of things, he was as well. And just like I thought, he was well hung. Shit, his dick was halfway down his thigh.
“Hold up,” he said. “We need to go back to my place and finish this.”
“Look, before we go anywhere, I got one question for you,” I said with a serious expression on my face. “You got any baby mamas chasing you or some shit?”
“Nah, man.” He laughed. “I’m strictly dickly.”
With that said, he gave me the directions to his place, and I pulled off in hopes of some mind-blowing sex.
About twenty minutes later, we arrived at his condominium-style apartment, The Avalon, located in Pikesville. It was a gated community, so I knew he had to be loaded with money. He gave me the code to punch in the keypad. I made a mental note to remember the number, just in case I needed it later.
As we pulled up to his apartment building, he told me to park next to an all-black Bentley. We both got out, and he took his keys out and pressed the button, popping the trunk to the extravagant piece of machinery. He removed what looked like a duffel bag full of laundry. But I knew it had to be something like cash or dope.
“That’s a nice whip you got.” I could imagine me flexing in it someday just to go to the market.
“Yeah, man, I just bought it last month. I drive me a Honda or Toyota around the hood just to fool the young’uns that might wanna try me or something.”
I just nodded my head. I could have cared less about that shit. My mind was clouded by dollar signs. I was gonna have to step my game up because this nigga was ballin’ better than Kenny ever was.
We made our way up to his apartment, and my mind went crazy as we entered. He had a short marble vestibule that had swirls of cream and chocolate. He dropped his keys on an ivory and tan table with gold trimming.
Just as I was about to step on the plush carpet, he instructed me to take off my shoes, because he didn’t want to track anything on it. He did the same then told me to take a seat while he went into his kitchen to get us something to drink.
I admired his wall-to-wall chocolate-carpeted living room as I sat in the chocolate and tan, suede-and-leather sectional, which was soft to the touch, and felt good on my skin as I made myself comfortable. He had a fireplace that had a traditional mantle, with various pictures of family members spread across.
I got up and walked around the room, my feet feeling like they were on clouds, to look at his CD collection and other things on his entertainment center. He had a nice collection. gospel, jazz, R&B, neo-soul, rock.
I made my way back around to his mantle and looked at some of his family members. My eyes bugged out my socket as one of the pictures had a guy in it that looked a lot like one of my exes. This shit must run in his family.
“You ready?” Wallace came up behind me and surprised me. He pressed his dick against my ass as he licked the back of my neck like an ice cream sundae, sending shivers down my spine and causing the blood to flow to my third leg.
“Ummm.”
He handed me a glass of red wine, which I threw back in one swoop, gulping it down, because I was long overdue for some good, old-fashioned fucking.
He moved his coffee table out of the way and made room on the floor in front of the fireplace. He had a remote control that controlled everything in his living room, so before long, there was a fire going and the sweet sounds of Mario’s “Let Me Love You” filled the air, setting the mood.
He slowly and methodically removed my clothes piece by piece as well as his own. I marveled at the toned yet aged masculine Adonis that sat across from me, and my dick instantly swelled in throbbing pleasure. We immediately started kissing, letting our tongues do the talking for us.
After about ten minutes of kissing, we both made our way down to each other’s manhood and devoured it whole. The sound of slurping and moaning was now in rhythmic competition with the music in the background.
He then laid me on my back and made his way down to my puckering asshole that awaited his attention. He dove in like he was eating watermelon at a summer family feast. He was licking the crack of my ass from my back all the way to the tip of my dick.
I lifted my ass off the floor and thrust it toward him. “Oh, yeah!” I moaned. “That’s the spot right thereeeeeee.”
I needed my ass pounded like never before. “Fuck me now!” I commanded. I watched as he placed a Magnum XL condom on his pulsating muscle. I turned over, because doggy-style would let me get every inch of his dick in me.
He slowly pushed himself in me. But taking one’s time wasn’t my method, so I forcefully pushed back, letting his dick fill me up. He immediately got the hint and took over, pounding my ass like a jackhammer hitting concrete.
I was loving every minute, whimpering and moaning, “Ahh! Yeah, daddy! Take this ass. It’s all yours.”
He pulled up and placed me against the wall, placing my arms and legs over his shoulders, pressing me against the wall hard. It was a painful position, but it was soon replaced with pleasure.
He fucked me like h
e was trying to go through the wall. With every pump, I yelped in pleasure. This too was going down in the record books as one of my best sexual positions.
He punished me for another good ten minutes before he erupted, and we collapsed on his floor, panting for air. I didn’t even realize I nutted on myself, because he was fucking me so hard.
He nibbled on my ear as he whispered other ways and places he wanted to fuck me. Then he scooped me up and carried me to the shower. Mind you, he was the same size I was.
It was still unbelievable how tender he was. I’d learned that men on the down low are some of the most giving people you could ever meet. Yet, on any given day, you probably would see a dude like him beating a crackhead down for shorting him or trying to con him. It was like dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
We both washed up, and afterward, he showed me to his master suite.
Once again, I was shocked at how his taste was exquisitely on point. Everything in his apartment was earth-toned with combinations of brown, cream, tan, and black. I was truly fascinated by his sense of style, and sexual prowess as a thug lover.
He’d told me to make myself comfortable. He just didn’t know how much so. I was going to milk him dry.
I walked around his large sleeping chamber, taking in all of the beautiful art work strategically mounted along his walls. He had naked men entangled in all types of positions. Some just nude, others racy. He even had a wide selection of gay porn. I knew his boys didn’t know he had a side like this to him. Then again, who knows how many of his boys probably participated in this lifestyle?
He was still naked when he came back in the room with wine flutes and fruit on a platter, his dick swinging from side to side like an elephant’s trunk. I was again aroused just by the sight, as I lay spread out in his king-size bed on the softest sheets I had ever laid on.
He eased his way on to the bed, smiling from ear to ear. He picked up his remote control from the nightstand beside the bed and chimed on his wall-mounted digital music player, which was next to his plasma television.
Aaliyah’s “One in a Million” serenaded us as he slowly fed me. The song was one of my favorites, and I truly knew I was one in a million. Nobody could tell me different.
After we finished off the fruit tray, our refreshed bodies once again became inseparable magnets. I then pleasured him like only I could.
I should have gotten the “Nobel Piece Prize,” because I knew how to milk a nigga’s piece dry. After I made him cum on my face. He then bent over, pushing his ass as high in the air as it could go.
That’s what the fuck I’m talking about. I love a brotha who could give it good and take it even better. My dick wasn’t as big as his, but I could tell he was enjoying himself, from the way he moaned and groaned, telling me not to stop.
We again collapsed on the bed and snuggled as he held me from behind. As we both drifted off to sleep, I could smell the sweet faint fragrance of sandalwood on his pillows. He had every base covered. I loved it.
I woke up to an empty bed. I looked around the room for a clock and noticed it was going on eight o clock in the evening. Wallace was gone, and there was a note on the pillow where his head once was.
Yo, James.
I went to take care of some business. Holla at you later. I left you your own key and the password to the gate to get in when you want. I enjoyed your presence today and hope to have many more experiences with you. Oh, and I left you some spending money just in case you want to buy yourself something. Here’s my cell phone number if I don’t make it back before you leave. 443-228-7965.
One.
Wallace.
“Got me another one,” I said to myself. Once again, this shit is too easy. I made my way to the bathroom and showered.
I got dressed and made my way to my car. I couldn’t believe he would trust me this fast—money, keys, passwords, all of it in record time. I was like fine wine. Getting better with age.
Wallace had left me four grand on the nightstand. I almost felt like a whore. Nah. Whores don’t get paid this good. And they damn sure don’t look this good.
Before I left I noticed the duffle bag he’d brought in still in the same place where he’d left it when we came in. I was tempted to check its contents, but my better judgment told me to leave it be. I wasn’t nobody’s dummy. Wallace’s ass could be recording my every movement. And this could be a test to see if I was trustworthy or not. It would behoove me to be content with what I have for now. I’m sure there would be other times when I could get more money out of him.
I made my way toward my home in a hurry because I knew my cats needed to be fed. I also needed to call Carl and check in with him, just to keep him happy. My job was never done.
Chapter 18
Shawn
A Pleasant Surprise
November 8th, 2018, 12:34 P.M.
I guess I was supposed to be sad and distraught right about now but I just couldn’t get to that place yet. I embraced my mom tightly in the middle of my dad’s grotesque apartment. The news of his death had hit her hard. I, on the other hand, was in another place. I was kind of glad he was gone. I felt like a burden had been lifted off of me.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mom,” I said, looking at her in the face. Tears continued to stream down her face. She shook with unrecognized emotion as I held her as tightly as I could. My mom had forgiven my father a lot faster than I did. If I did. I still didn’t know. I didn’t know how or why she forgave him after all he put us through.
I had called in a favor to the police chief of Baltimore City, and he granted me permission, but under police surveillance only. The police didn’t allow us to touch anything, but from the looks of the place, I can say that my father was a total slob. He must have totally fell off after my mom put him out.
When we first came in, we went into the bedroom, which was the scene of the crime. My mom altogether lost it as she saw blood splattered on the walls. She immediately ran out of the room crying and hollering. The only reason we were in the apartment was because my mom and I both wanted to see the condition my father was living in. She really hadn’t seen him in the ten years they had been separated.
I told my mom to go stand in the hallway and wait until I got there. I stayed around just to get a better look at the crime scene. Being a criminal lawyer, I knew a little about what to look for in a crime scene.
I was interrupted by the phone ringing. Ring, ring, ring!
“Hello,” I said, wondering who was calling for my father.
“Hey, Shawn,” James said with glee in his voice “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Especially at your father’s house.”
“Muthafucka, you ain’t gonna get away with this shit, you hear me!”
“Shawn, baby, what are you talking about?” he said, confusion in his voice.
James was playing dumb, and I knew it.
“Look, bastard, stop calling me baby. And you know what the fuck I’m talking about, bitch.”
“Shawn, I’m not going to be too many more of your bitches, okay,” he said, losing his cool as well. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My father is dead, muthafucka, and I know you had something to do with it.” I was heated, but not about my father’s death. It seemed like whenever this bastard popped up, he brought some drama with him, and I was simply tired of his shit.
“What?” he said, like this was the first he had heard of this news. “Your father ain’t dead. I was just with him the other day. And, besides, I would have heard about it because…”
“James, why would I be lying about some serious shit like this?” I was now pacing the living room floor with one of my hands on my hip. “So you saying you didn’t have anything to do with my father’s death?”
“Shawn, you ain’t talking to no damn dummy. I would have to be one stupid ass to be calling the house of a man that I murdered. Give me some kind of credit. Damn!”
“All I am saying is, you bette
r have a solid-ass alibi for last night, because I will be sure to mention your name to the police.” I was now smiling because I knew I had him where I wanted him, for a change. He wasn’t talking, but I was sure he was searching his mind for one that I knew he didn’t have.
“Oh, believe me, I do,” he said with confidence. “And the next time we talk, please be ready to apologize.”
“Whatever, man.”
“Whatever too, Shawn!” he snapped back. “Do whatever! Just spell my name right, bitch!” Click!
I was steaming mad, but nevertheless, I exited my father’s apartment, consoled my mom once again, and then we made our way down to the car so I could drive her home.
“You okay, baby?” she asked as I got in and buckled my seatbelt.
I’d coached myself on not letting my emotions show when I got to the car, but she was my mom. And mothers could tell when something was wrong with their children even when we try our hardest to hide it and keep our heads held high.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, placing the car in drive and pulling off. “I’m just fine.”
“Shawn, baby,” she patted me on the leg as we were stopped at a light. “You know it’s all right to cry, son.”
“I know, Ma.” I wouldn’t even turn my head to look at her in the face, for I knew if I did, I surely would break down in the car. She’d always had that effect on me. “I’ll be all right.”
“Yes, you will, son,” she said as she reached for the volume button on the radio and turned it up.
“Goin’ up Yonder” by Tramaine Hawkins was playing, and she hummed and rocked as we drove up Route 40, headed toward her house.
After I dropped my mom back off home, I made my way back downtown to the Baltimore City Central District Police Precinct to look at the pictures of the crime scene. I checked in my credentials at the front desk, where the detective on the case met me. He escorted me to his office to begin filling me in on my father’s murder.
We entered his office, and I sat down across from this burly, black man that had to be around the same age as me. He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, and began to speak.