Wifey, Part 2

by Erica Hilton

  “This fuckin’ thing!” Jasmine started blowing her horn to get the workers’ attention.

  A Bridge and Tunnel officer came walking over to Jasmine’s side and asked her for her E-ZPass, so he could examine it and make sure it wasn’t faulty. As soon as she rolled down her window, the smell of liquor hit him smack in the face.

  “Miss, were you drinking tonight?” the officer asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “How many drinks did you have?”

  “Oh shit, here we go, Simone. I don’t know. I think three drinks.”

  “Okay, miss, I’m going to need you to turn off the engine, and I need you and your friend to step out of the vehicle.”

  “Step out of the car for what?”

  “Turn off the engine and step out of the car right now!” the cop screamed.

  “Right now!” Jasmine screamed back, mocking the officer.

  “Jasmine, just do what he says,” Simone said, and she followed the officer’s directions and got out of the truck.

  The officer got on his radio and called for assistance. Within two minutes, three other officers arrived, and Jasmine started to get belligerent.

  “I’m not getting out of shit! I’m working for the federal government. Y’all can call Agent Gosling!”

  The officers looked at each other; they didn’t know what Jasmine was talking about. She hadn’t shown them a badge or any kind of credentials, so they dismissed what she had said. But Simone peeped everything.

  The uniformed officers were trying to rip open Jasmine’s truck door, but they couldn’t.

  Jasmine took out her BlackBerry and pressed her panic button for the first time, and within five minutes New York City police cars started coming to the scene with their sirens blaring. The FBI had dispatched them to the scene to assess everything until their agents could arrive.

  Once all the police showed up, Jasmine got out of the car. And as soon as she did, she was handcuffed and taken down to the ground.

  “Call Agent Gosling,” she kept screaming, but her screams went on deaf ears.

  The police lifted Jasmine off the ground and took her to the Bridge and Tunnel office, which contained a holding cell, a mere fifty yards away from the toll lanes.

  The police threw Jasmine into a cell, while they treated Simone with kid gloves.

  “She works for the government?” one of the officers asked Simone.

  Simone shook her head to indicate no, and then she confirmed for the officers that Jasmine was indeed drunk.

  After about twenty minutes, Agent Gosling and three other unmarked FBI cars arrived on the scene. The officers filled Agent Gosling in on what had happened and why Jasmine was being detained. But the FBI had jurisdiction over Jasmine, so she was released into Gosling’s custody.

  Gosling had one of the uniformed officers drive Simone home and informed them that he would drive Jasmine home. He placed Jasmine in the front seat of his squad car and made sure her truck was driven out of the toll bridge lane and parked in a spot right next to the holding cell.

  Traffic had almost come to a standstill because of all of the cop cars near the tollgates. Even though it was real early in the morning, people looked on and rubbernecked, further backing up traffic.

  Once Jasmine’s truck was safe, Gosling sped off and whisked her away.

  “Jasmine, you can’t fuck up like this!” Gosling screamed. “You were doing phenomenal. Please don’t blow it now by reverting back to your rebellious ways. And, please, for heaven’s sake, lay off the liquor!”

  Gosling looked over at Jasmine, and her cleavage and her thighs were turning him on. Jasmine also had on a pair of stilettos and Gosling loved to see women in them.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what happened.”

  It was hard for Gosling to be angry and give Jasmine real stern looks now that he had feelings for her. He reached over and placed his right hand on her left thigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, caressing her knee.

  Jasmine was drunk, but she was fully aware of what was going on. She looked over at Gosling, and Gosling locked eyes with her and didn’t remove his hand. He slid his hand up her thigh. She placed her hand on top of his to stop it from going any farther.

  Gosling pulled over to the shoulder of the Cross Island Parkway. When the car came to a complete stop, he turned toward Jasmine and, without asking, started to tongue-kiss her, sliding his hand all the way up her thigh until he got to her pussy. Gosling’s dick was so hard, it was almost coming out of his pants.

  “Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing, Gosling?”

  “I want you! I always wanted you,” Gosling said, sliding his finger into Jasmine’s pussy.

  Jasmine exhaled, her mind racing. She didn’t want to fuck Gosling, but she felt like if she didn’t, he might end up later framing her for something she didn’t do to get back at her.

  Gosling got out of the car and got in the backseat and told her to come to the backseat with him. Jasmine felt creepy—like she was getting ready to fuck her father or her uncle or something, but she did as Gosling had told her.

  Gosling was like a lion in heat, and as soon as Jasmine got in the car he pulled her toward him and pulled her titties out so that both were fully exposed. Gosling turned Jasmine around so that her ass was facing him, and he positioned her knees on the seat and bent her down so her head wasn’t hitting the ceiling. Gosling then lifted up Jasmine’s skirt and pulled her thong to the side. He took his gun out of the holster and put it on safety and tossed it on the front seat. Then he feverishly got out of his pants and stuck his dick in Jasmine’s pussy from behind and started to fuck her raw.

  “Don’t come in me,” she said sternly to him while he pumped his dick in and out of her.

  Speeding cars were whizzing by on the parkway, none of which had any idea that two people were fucking inside the car on the side of the road.

  Gosling wanted to last long inside of Jasmine, but all the pent-up excitement caused him to fuck her like a jackrabbit.

  Within three minutes Gosling had pulled his dick out and was shooting his load all over the backseat of his FBI-issued car. “Ahhh shit! Ohhhh yeah! Wooooo!”

  Gosling was thoroughly enjoying the nut that he had just bust. Jasmine’s pussy was tighter and better than he’d imagined during all the times he’d jerked off in his house, fantasizing about his prized confidential informant.

  Forty-Four

  Agent Gosling cleaned up his come with some tissue he had in the car. Jasmine was dead tired and stayed in the backseat, where she was able to stretch out and close her eyes. She was feeling like she was going to throw up, but she knew that if she just relaxed she would be fine. It was now approaching five in the morning, and she ended up falling asleep.

  While she slept, Agent Gosling reached into his glove compartment and pulled out the bottle of vodka he had stashed there. He took a swig and then put the cap back on the bottle and stuffed it back inside the glove compartment. The swig of vodka gave the agent an instant rush. He loved the way the liquor felt as it traveled down his throat and into his stomach.

  Gosling had two houses, but the house he liked most was the one in Floral Park, Long Island, relatively close to Queens. With the influence of the vodka he kept taking swigs of, he decided to take Jasmine to his house.

  Gosling knew it was a dumb idea, but he didn’t care. He wanted some more of Jasmine’s pussy. He had come too quickly when he’d fucked her in the car. He wanted to fuck her one more time so she would remember his dick. Gosling woke Jasmine up and told her where she was, and then he walked her into his tidy two-story brick colonial house.

  “Let me make you some breakfast,” he said to her when they entered the front door. “Here. Have a seat on the couch.”

  Gosling sat Jas
mine down on the couch and then went and made her a nice breakfast that included grits, eggs, sausages, and toast.

  Jasmine’s stomach was feeling queasy from the liquor, so she wasn’t able to really eat the food, but the nibble made her feel better.

  “Gosling, what am I doing here? What are we doing? What did we do?” Jasmine shook her head, hoping she could just snap her fingers and then be on an island somewhere far away from all the constant stress and drama in her life.

  “Just relax. You done with your food?”

  “Yeah. I can’t eat any more of it, but thank you.”

  Jasmine took it on her own to walk over to the couch, where she lay down.

  “You want to take a shower? Or you can go upstairs and lay down in my bed.”

  “No, I’m okay. I just want to lay here for about a half hour, and then I need you to take me back to my car.”

  Gosling told her he would do that. He then left Jasmine on the couch and went to his cabinet in the kitchen. He pulled out a brand-new bottle of vodka. Then he went into the medicine cabinet in his bathroom and got his bottle of Viagra, took out a pill, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed it.

  With the liquor and the Viagra in his system, Gosling was more than ready to fuck, and he wasn’t waiting for Jasmine to wake back up. He went to her on the couch and quietly and carefully lifted up her skirt, pulled her panties down, and started to lick on her clit.

  Jasmine woke up startled. “What are you doing?” She tried to push him away, smelling the liquor on his breath.

  “Let me fuck you one more time?”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes, took of her panties and her skirt, and she just lay there, determined not to put any effort into fucking Gosling because she didn’t want him getting hooked and then calling her every day for some pussy.

  Gosling didn’t need Jasmine’s assistance. He took off his pants, and the Viagra had his dick standing at attention. He spread Jasmine’s legs open and entered her missionary-style, pumping his dick in and out of her for five minutes straight.

  Jasmine could feel Gosling about to come. “Remember what I said—Don’t come inside me.”

  She was hoping he would hurry up and get his nut because she could see sweat forming on his brow. The last thing she wanted was for some of his sweat to drip down on her.

  Thankfully Gosling pulled his dick out and came before he really started sweating.

  After fucking Jasmine for the second time, Gosling was on cloud nine and felt like he was on top of the world. It made her feel dirty, like she was the scum of the earth.

  Jasmine was no longer feeling like she had to throw up. Although she was physically feeling better, emotionally she was feeling like shit because she felt like, by letting Gosling fuck her, it was only going to make her feel guilty whenever she saw Homicide. She didn’t want to cheat on Homicide, and yet she was feeling like that was exactly what she had just done. Though she had confessed some of her past sins to Homicide, she was certain that confession time was over. There was no way she was going to tell him about what she did with Gosling.

  Jasmine’s feeling of guilt was a small thing compared to the sheer panic she was feeling while she was walking out of Gosling’s house. She suddenly remembered exactly what had happened when she’d confronted the officers.

  Her drunkenness had caused her to scream out in front of Simone that she was working with the federal government. Jasmine knew she’d fucked up. Now she was trying to figure out just how to fix her fuck-up. There was no way Simone was going to keep that information under wraps.

  Forty-Five

  Nico didn’t know about Jasmine’s SoHo apartment. He also didn’t know exactly how much time she had been spending away from the house they shared together. So it was easy to see how he found it strange that she had supposedly gone out with Simone, and at close to seven-thirty in the morning, she still hadn’t come back.

  What’s up with the snitch?—That was Mia’s text to Nico, which actually woke him up and made him realize that Jasmine still wasn’t home.

  Nico didn’t respond to it. He didn’t need another lengthy lecture or a bunch of texts from her re-explaining why she was so sure that Jasmine was snitching.

  Nico had his own brain, and he had a plan for how he was going to set up Jasmine and test her to see if she was snitching. If she failed, he was going to make her life a hell she had never imagined she could experience. He was going to first murder both of her parents before killing her.

  Nico couldn’t wait around for Jasmine to come home because he had moves to make. He was going to go see BJ in the hospital, and after that, if he hadn’t heard from or seen her, then he would call her and find out where she had been all night long.

  ***

  While Nico was on his way to Jamaica Hospital to see BJ, Jasmine was on the elevator heading to her apartment. When she unlocked her door and walked in, the loft was very quiet, and although it was still early in the morning, she initially thought that Homicide wasn’t there. But when she walked into her bedroom, she found him sleeping in her bed. Jasmine was surprised to see him there, because he always fell asleep in the living room watching sports.

  “Babe, wake up. Baby, I have to tell you something,” Jasmine said while she shook Homicide.

  Homicide opened his eyes and saw Jasmine looking at him, but it took him a few seconds to figure out where he was and to get his bearings.

  “Wake up, baby. I need you. I fucked up big time,” Jasmine said.

  “What’s up? What happened?” Homicide asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I got stopped by the Bridge and Tunnel police when I was coming back from City Island with Simone. Something was wrong with my E-ZPass, so the officer comes to my window and he smelled liquor on my breath. So he’s like, ‘Get out the car,’ and was asking me, had I been drinking and all that shit. Simone gets out of the car, and I stay in the car with the doors locked and the windows up, and I’m like, ‘Nah, fuck that! I ain’t getting out.’ And I was talking mad shit because I was drunk, so it was the liquor talking for me. So, anyway, the next thing you know is, he calls other officers, and other cops come and they force me out. I was trying to tell them that I’m a C.I. and was asking them to call and check me out, so they can let me go. And I was just talking real loud and—”

  “And where was Simone when all this was going on?”

  “She was standing right there.”

  Homicide thought for a moment, and then he sat up in the bed. “Where Simone live at?”

  “In Queens.”

  “Queens?” Homicide said under his breath. “We have to go see her right now before she starts talking.” He scooted himself out of the bed and put on the same jeans and shirt he was wearing the day before.

  Jasmine was happy that Homicide got it without having to explain anything.

  “She got the biggest mouth, and I just hope she went straight home and went to sleep and didn’t start calling and texting nobody.” Jasmine knew it was do-or-die for her if Simone told anyone what had happened.

  Homicide got his gun off the dresser and put it in his waistband and told Jasmine he was ready to roll. The two of them left the apartment and made their way down to the parking lot and got into his Denali, headed to Queens. Jasmine drove, since she knew the way there.

  When they reached Simone’s block, Homicide told Jasmine to walk to the apartment and call Simone to come open the door, and when she opened the door, stall her for a moment and he would approach and take it from there.

  Jasmine took in all of the instructions and exited Homicide’s truck. She walked four houses down to Simone’s house and called her while standing on her steps. Simone picked up on the second ring.

  “Oh, my God! Simone, you are not going to believe what they put me through,” she said into the phone.

  “You okay?”
Simone asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna kill you for getting me that drunk off them Henny Coladas.”

  Simone laughed. “You was talking so much shit, and I was trying to get your attention so I could tell you to shut the hell up.”

  “Simone, I’m outside your door. They just released me. I have to shit, and my stomach is killing me, so you was closer and I figured I would just stop by you real quick, instead of driving all the way to Long Island.”

  “Oh! I didn’t hear the bell.”

  “I didn’t ring it.”

  “Okay, I’m coming right now.”

  Within thirty seconds Simone was at the door in her short silk pajamas. “So you gonna come and blow up my bathroom?” She laughed.

  “Who you dressed all sexy for?” Jasmine asked, trying to stall.

  “This ain’t sexy. What are you talking about?”

  Jasmine just looked at her with a suspicious look. “Let me find out.”

  “You ain’t gonna find out nothing. But hurry up. Come in, so I can close this door.”

  Jasmine couldn’t stall anymore without looking suspicious, so she walked in, not wanting to turn to see where Homicide was.

  As soon as Simone tried to close the door, Homicide sprang to the door like an alley cat and stuck his foot in the base to prevent it from closing.

  “Who is this?” Simone said with an attitude. She wasn’t sure what was going on, and initially she thought it was her landlord who had stuck his foot in the door.

  Homicide then grabbed the doorknob and pushed open the door.

  As soon as Simone saw Homicide’s beard she started to scream.

  Homicide grabbed her and repeatedly slapped her in the face until she fell to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t open your fuckin’ mouth!”

  He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Simone, who remembered it from Ish’s house. She was sure it was the same gun. Simone immediately remembered the voice as being the same voice from the home invasion at Ish’s house. She also peeped how calm Jasmine was. She knew Jasmine was in on whatever was going down.