by Lena Scott
But Finest didn’t want to play. He must’ve been nervous about his weak hard-on and wanted to use it before losing it.
He pushed her down on the bed and entered her with force, as if trying to make up for his momentary shortcoming. Tanqueray squirmed to get comfortable, but he was in a hurry, it seemed. His nut just couldn’t wait. Pumping as if his life depended on it, he worked inside her.
She looked down toward where they were united, watching him moving in and out of her gold mountain with black roots. Hmm, guess it’s time for a touch-up, she thought.
Finest, his eyes closed and his teeth clenched, pulled almost all the way out and then plunged deep inside her, grinding his body into hers.
Damn! What’s on his mind? Lifting and rotating her hips, Tanqueray met his fervor, helping him hit the spots he was missing, with his mindless thrusting, stabbing, and jabbing.
Finally he came with a grunt and a yelp as if he was on fire, seething and moaning on the comedown. Suddenly he held her tight, keeping them intertwined.
Tanqueray wrapped her long leg around his back, rubbing her thighs against his tight waist. He seemed to like the extra show of affection, so she went the extra yard, squeezing her vaginal muscle around his manhood.
He looked at her and smiled warmly. “I like that. Did you come? You need more time? I got time,” he said softly before kissing her tenderly on her lips. He didn’t even force his tongue or anything like that, just kissed her kinda sweet like.
“Yeah, baby, I like that,” he went on, slowly moving inside her, for no other purpose than for how good it felt to be there.
Tanqueray could tell. She’d read about this “after-love” shit in a magazine. This mess was starting to feel strange, like they were married or something, and was freaking her out. Being just the drug guy, he was getting awfully attached.
“I love you.”
She pulled his head from her neck, where he was nuzzled in deep.
“Whoa? What?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes red with what was left of his high. “Nothing.” Then he pulled out of her suddenly and headed to the john.
Love? What did love have to do with that they had? Where did love fit in? Finest was just a two-bit hustler. He didn’t have nothing, and by the looks of things, he didn’t want nothing. Here they were in some twenty-buck room, screwing on a bed that who knows who was in last. This wasn’t nowhere near the life she wanted.
He’d talked all that shit about getting out, but here they were still in the ghetto. She didn’t want none of what this dude’s words meant. They were lies. Ghetto love? No way. She’d seen her mother live under those conditions. If not their father, at least one of them men who always was hanging around should have gotten them out of this place.
She and Finest were making love? She sure as hell didn’t want that. She was only fucking for the drugs, right? The better she made him feel, the more drugs she got, right? This wasn’t about love.
Tanqueray looked around the bed for a few moments, listening to him take care of his business in the bathroom.
Finest came out and looked at her naked and spread open on the bed. It wasn’t a look of disgust or a gaze of lust. He was just standing there, looking at her.
“You said you loved me.”
“I didn’t mean it. That was just sex talk,” he said, sounding as if he’d convinced himself of that while in the bathroom.
Tanqueray sat up. “Oh, okay, because I was like, look, dawg, I’m not fidd’n ta like—”
“Like what?”
Finest moved closer to the bed. He’d pulled on his pants now but had no shirt on. His muscles flexed and tensed, as he nervously awaited her answer.
“Like being all hooked up.”
“But what if I wanted you to be my girl? I mean, hell, I don’t even know your fuckin’ name.”
Tanqueray laughed, sliding off the wet sheets and heading to the bathroom to take care of herself now. “That would be unfortunate because, see, I’m a woman, and you don’t need to know my fuckin’ name.”
“Yeah, right,” Finest mumbled.
Tanqueray hadn’t answered the real question here because she didn’t have one. She was going to have to ease out of this thing before it got too deep, before she got trapped. She wanted more out of life than just some thug from the hood making promises and fuckin’ his way outta keeping them. She’d tasted the good life. Omar had given her that much of a sample, freak though he was. There would be no going back now. Not even love was worth it.
Love? Her mind spun. Why had that even come up in her head? This wasn’t nothing but a summer fling, and summer was coming to an end.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, Tanqueray thought about the sex, the drugs, Finest’s smile. She shook her head. “Nah, it ain’t enough.”
“Tanqueray,” Finest called through the door, “can we talk about it?”
“What?” Tanqueray pulled the door open. Finest stood there naked, looking humble and small. Something had changed between them, and she didn’t like it. “I don’t want to talk. I want you to drop me off where you picked me up.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
She pushed quickly past him and started dressing. “Nothing is wrong with me, nigga. I just don’t want to talk about all that right now,” she said, trying to hide the growing panic in her voice. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to get out of this place. Out of his space.
“You got somebody else or what?”
“No. Yes. I mean, Finest, I’m not even talking about that.”
“Because we can end this right here, right now.”
“Nigga, you crazy. You done lost yo’ damn mind. You know I got Omar.” Tanqueray tried to move past him.
Finest blocked her. He was breathing heavily. He pushed her back, knocking her onto the bed. When she tried to get up, he held her down, pressing his hand on her bare chest. He screamed, “You don’t know me! You don’t know nothin’ about me! And I don’t even know your fuckin’ name!”
“Get outta my face!”
“Yeah, I’ll get out cho face.”
Finest stood, allowing Tanqueray to get up, which she did quickly, throwing on her top and zipping up her slim-leg jeans.
He was biting his bottom lip. She couldn’t read his mind, but his face showed a blend of hurt and anger. When had this happened? When had their fun turned so serious?
“Don’t leave,” he whimpered.
“Look, I’ll get myself home.” Tanqueray grabbed her big Gucci bag and headed for the door.
“Whatever,” she heard him say, but didn’t turn to see his lips move.
“Suga.”
Tanqueray stopped but still didn’t look at him.
“You playin’ with the wrong, nigga. You are fuckin’ with the wrong gotdamned nigga!” he screamed, flopping back on the bed.
Sighing heavily, she held her head high and walked out of the room and down the steps to the street. On the street again, Tang. Damn it! She hurried to the closest bus stop, not once looking back to see if Finest was following. You sure you ain’t a ho?
She caught the bus that would take her back to Unique’s after taking her through the P. She fought her heart and her tears. She missed Mama. Missed Mama’s house. Missed her childhood, and the laughter and fun with her brothers. She missed Larry, with his slow ass.
Why would somebody wanna kill him like that? She shook her head sadly.
She missed the innocence and the smell of a new baby coming home from the hospital. Unique was always bringing home a new baby. How good it smelled when those babies would come home. She’d never said that to anyone before. She remembered pulling back the blanket and sniffing Marquis’ toes when he came. He smelled soooo good.
Tanqueray stepped off the bus and strolled down the way toward the house. Her heart jumped to see the concrete slab laying there, ready for new memories to start building on it. “Wow!” she voiced, hanging on the gate and l
ooking through.
She pulled out her cell phone and called Unique. She left a message when Unique didn’t answer. “Girl, have you seen the work on Mama’s house? The insurance came through, did you know? Did you do this? How come nobody told me? I guess I ain’t really around to care. I’m sorry about that. You know, when the house gets done, why don’t you and the kids and me and Sinclair live here for a while? I think Mama would like that. Don’t you? I love you guys. And I’ma do better.”
After Tanqueray hung up, she saw the driver step out the black limo across the street. She knew him. It’s that ghetto chauffeur. Yeah! What’s his name? She snapped her fingers. He didn’t focus on her for a moment and was looking with interest toward the building site.
She rushed over to the car. She didn’t know what the deal was with this guy, but she was glad to see him.
“Hey,” she said. “Is he in there?” She tried to pull herself together, knowing she looked a mess.
He looked her over. “Are you crazy?” he asked, sounding altogether serious. “Why are you always out running around at night, looking crazy?” He held out his large hands, fanning them the length of her.
“No, I’m not crazy,” she said, sniffing loudly and tugging at her clothes. She found herself fidgeting a lot more often than she used to. She didn’t want to explain anything to Cecil. She didn’t want to tell him her story of why her life sucked so badly to where she was always in the street looking tore back. “I want to see him.”
“Well, I’m sure tonight he doesn’t want to see you.”
“Oh really? That’s funny because, last time I saw him, he didn’t imply that.”
The driver groaned. He knew if it got back to his boss that he’d seen this woman again and didn’t at least ask her if she wanted to see him again, he would lose his job.
Tanqueray sensed it and stood her ground, waiting for the invite.
“He’s not in the car. I came out to check on the property. The work is on hold while he’s in New York on business.”
“Hmm,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Okay, well then you tell him I said sorry I missed him.” She shoved her hands deep in her pockets as she turned to leave.
Reluctantly, the brotherman grabbed her arm.
Tanqueray looked at his large hand and then at him.
“Get in. I’ll be picking him up from the airport in about an hour.”
“Sho yo’ right.”
Unique
Unique couldn’t wait to get downtown to Derrick’s office. She could bring all the kids and he never even cared. It was funny how taking them all on the bus to his office didn’t even seem troublesome. He’d be waiting with a smile at the bus stop in front of the office. Marquis even went once. They didn’t talk as much as she would have liked, but Marquis was actually respectful and said thank you when Derrick fed them at the restaurant. He’d spent nearly thirty dollars on lunch at Sizzler. Marquis ate like a king, and it warmed Unique’s heart to see him enjoying his food that way. She loved her baby boy and wanted him to know something better than the life of drugs, violence, and jail that lay in front of him every day. It was all there waiting for him. Maybe he was an angry boy, but Unique was even angrier that he had no hope.
“Where’s Marquis?” Derrick asked.
Marquis had said he had something to do with one of his friends, and Unique decided she wasn’t gonna push him. “He didn’t want to come today.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate because I really wanted to talk to him. I’ve started coaching this little league team and I wanted him to be a part of the project.”
“Baseball?”
“Yeah. He’d be great. All his pent-up emotions, shoot, he’d knock that ball into next week.” Derrick laughed, pretending to hit a ball.
Cammie laughed too and then did something inappropriate. Unique saw it. As they walked toward the building, she touched Derrick’s on his thigh, real close to the crotch area. She did it on purpose. Derrick pretended it was an accident, Unique could tell.
“I’m just gonna check my messages, and then we can head to lunch, okay.”
Derrick left them down in the lobby, as was usual. No sense in giving them folks something to gossip about. Besides, they weren’t dating or anything. Unique sighed at the pleasant thought of being with someone nice and sweet like him.
“I want Derrick to be my daddy,” Cammie said.
“What?”
“I don’t want Curtis to be my daddy anymore. I want Derrick. Curtis hurts me too much, and I don’t like it.”
Unique’s head spun for a second. “Excuse me?”
“Curtis makes her cry when he comes in the room at night. He be”—Gina stuck out her tongue and swirled it around—“climbing on her and then he be”—she then thrust her hips forward.
“No, he don’t!” Cammie screamed, covering her mouth, and backing away from where they were standing.
Unique said in a high pitch, “Cammie, what is Curtis doing to you?” Her heart was speeding up, and her legs were moving her closer to her child.
Cammie’s eyes widened as Unique got closer. People were coming from the elevators, looking, observing, wondering what scene was playing out.
“What did he do?” Unique screamed.
“Nothing.” Cammie backed away toward the door.
“He touched her in her private place,” Gina said. “He touched me the other night, but he likes to touch Cammie the most because she calls him daddy, and I won’t call him daddy because he ain’t my daddy.”
Unique began to scream at the top of her lungs, and Cammie ran out of the building. “Cammie!” she bellowed.
Derrick came from the elevator. “What’s happening?”
“Ooohhhh, Curtis been touching Cammie in her private places,” Apple answered.
Unique broke out the door after Cammie, who was headed across traffic to the bus stop. She screamed, “Cammie, stop! Please, stop! Cammie!”
Cammie stopped and spun on her heels. “Mama!!!!” she screamed, just as the driver slammed on his brakes.
“Cammie!!!” Gina screamed, breaking free from Derrick’s grip.
Sinclair
Malcolm, stripped down to his boxers, turned on the shower. “You sure you wanna do this?”
Sinclair was again wrapped in his towel. She’d seen a movie where the lovers got in the shower together first. It seemed to just make it easier to get to the bed.
Two days at Malcolm’s house had made up her mind. Last night they had actually slept in the bed together. Both stayed dressed for a long time, but during the night his hands had wandered where they had never gone before. Into her sweats.
Malcolm felt her heat. He must have, because he moaned softly. His hands felt good as they moved in circular motion down there on her heat. He rubbed fast and then slower, while doing something else with his other hand.
Next thing you know, she was feeling his hardness against her leg. He was being very quiet, and maybe thought she was asleep, but she was awake. It felt good, and she didn’t want him to stop, so she kept quiet. Soon a wave of sickening sweetness came over her, and she felt a release. For a moment, she thought it was her period, but surely Malcolm wouldn’t have kept his hand down there if he thought that was the case.
“Sin,” he whispered.
She didn’t know if she should answer him at first.
“Sin.”
“Yeah.”
“I wanna do it.”
“You do?” Sinclair searched his face in the darkness.
He leaned his head against hers and nodded, his hands still on her.
She lay silent, wondering what was to come next. “I haven’t ever done it,” she admitted.
“You want me to be your first?” he asked, fingering her pubic hair softly.
His hands felt so good on her. She could say nothing, so she kissed him. This time their kiss went beyond their playful games of years past. He tongued her and sucked on her lips, moving on top of her and kissing her the way the m
en did in the movies. She could barely breathe under him as he grew excited and began kissing her like crazy.
“Wait, wait. I-I don’t know how to do this.” Sinclair eyes were burning as she fought back emotion. This wasn’t going the way she thought it would. She felt awkward and stupid.
Rolling off her, Malcolm smoothed back his wild hair. He was breathing heavily.
“I know what we should do.” She raised up in the bed and took his hand.
Sinclair nodded, gulping air as Malcolm stood there, his erection growing strong, peeking through the slit in his drawers.
“Let me see your titties.” He pulled the towel away slightly, exposing her small breasts. He grinned. “They’re pink. You must look like a white girl all over, huh. Wanna see Mr. Johnson?” he teased, pulling his monster from his shorts.
Sinclair stared at it, wondering again how all this was supposed to work. She’d heard sex through the walls plenty at Unique’s place and had seen Hollywood’s version of it a lot, the best being in Jason’s Lyric between Jada Pinkett and that guy, when they did it in the grass. Malcolm was big though. Is he really gonna lay on me naked like that? How is that gonna be good? It’s hella hot tonight. He nearly suffocated me in the bed.
They stepped into the shower. Malcolm got wet all over first and then pulled the towel off her. She again covered herself, but he pulled her hands away from what he wanted to see. “Touch it,” he said, pulling her hand toward his dancing member. “Grab it and pull on it a little bit.”
She tugged on his penis. “Like this?”
He flinched. “Not so hard. You gon’ take it off. Shit! Pull on it like you would like it to go inside you, the speed, I mean.” He showed her his preferred stroke, holding his hands on top of hers. “Don’t it turn you on touching it?”
“No, but I see it turns you on,” she joked, noticing the organ growing larger and harder.
He curved his lip before bursting into laughter. Then he got the soap and washed himself, slowly soaping up his firm hardness, stroking it the way he liked it.