by Lexus Love
Her father’s murder hurt her more since it happened not even twenty feet from the gallery that fateful day.
He’d been off duty standing in line at the coffee shop across from the museum when shots were fired.
A yearlong undercover drug sting had gone haywire, resulting in the slaughter of her father and the woman standing behind him in line in broad daylight.
Frozen in fear, across the street, Debbie watched her father being tackled to the floor by the huge man standing in front of him from the shattered window of the coffee shop.
Running headlong towards the shop with no heed to the danger she was rushing into, Debbie witnessed the big guy flinging her father’s empty pistol away.
The front of his shirt soaked through with her father’s blood, he rushed passed her and down the back alley behind the shop as she rolled her father’s body over, trying to stop the heavy flow of blood pouring from the hole in his stomach.
What angered Debbie the most, was that to her sister, who had graduated from the Benjamin N. Cardozo High School with good grades needed to concentrate on getting ready for college this coming fall, didn’t seem to be a most important thing on Kidadha's ‘’Kiki’’ mind.
For five long years, Debbie had tried to help Kiki realize, that the reckless manner in which she lived her life as a young black girl– herself and her crew were trying to compete with most popular girls in school for the attention of the quarterback and his jock friends from their school football team by wearing the shortest skirts or the tightest jeans bought with money stolen from Debbie’s purse -was not all there was to life.
Nor was her ‘doing hair’ out their apartment going to help further her education.
But no.
The heifer’s main goal right now was to party and drink herself stupid all weekend long for the entire summer and to go cruise the malls of the city.
Two weeks ago, Kiki complained that Debbie was never there for her when she needed Debbie to be.
Given the fact that Debbie worked long hours at the American Museum of Moving Images as a tour guide, to ensure that the bills were paid, that Kiki’s favorite foods were always on the table, clothes on her narrow-behind, and that she always made the effort to sit and talk with her sister whenever Kiki slowed down long enough for Debbie to catch up with her- made Debbie want to strangle Miss Thang.
But bitch-slap her she did, almost “back to Africa”, when Miss Thang even dared to disrespect Debbie in her own home.
An understanding was made, that if Kiki didn’t clean up her act by the opening of the new school year, she would find herself thrown out of Debbie’s apartment and onto the streets.
The little con-artist had cried Debbie a wide river of pleas and promises of change, but Debbie knew Kiki like she knew white on rice.
Kiki would always make the same promises each time there was a threat of ‘no more free room and board’, but soon started acting out again to gain attention.
Not this time, however, Debbie had thought, not this time.
The little stank-ass hoochie had slipped up big time. Makita ’Kita’ Gomez, Debbie’s best friend like forever, who’d crashed over from the night before, had just called Debbie on her way up the stairs to the studio.
When Kita said she’d found a used pregnancy test in Debbie’s bathroom wastebasket, Debbie nearly had a heart attack and died on the spot.
Kita didn’t waste time and assumed it belonged to Debbie-the girl knew her every-deepest-darkest- secrets, and if there was ever the chance that Debbie was pregnant, believe you me, after a confirmed doctor’s appointment?
Makita would be the first to know-but had desperately tried to calm the hysterically cussing and screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs girl from rushing head on out into traffic to find her little sister wherever she was in the state and beat the stuffing’ out of her.
Debbie was far from pissed off right now, she was raging inside.
This was the last straw; she’d told Kita over the phone as her best friend advised her to stay at the studio and burn off the anger.
And here she was, about to plant a kisser on the nasty floor.
Debbie never made the face plant that fate had dished up for her.
Instead, by some force of nature, she had stopped mid-way in her graceless plunge and was now tightly pressed up against an extremely broad and heavily muscular chest of a very tall man.
The stark whiteness of the stretched cotton wife beater right before her eyes, where the oak planks had just been, made her dizzy.
Her head cleared and her anger evaporated, Debbie realized whose massive Pecs she could feel through the snug-fitting wife-beater and whose huge chest squashed her double Ds so hard to flatten them, as he held her so close to him.
“You okay?” his deep voice rumbled from his massive chest.
And just like that, her panties got soaked.
Good Lord!
It was the Thug!
The little criminal named Nelson.
Or was it is Nathan? Whatever!
His was the jailbird Jaime had hired to repair his rundown shack of a studio, which just happened to be arrested not too long ago for killing her father, her confused mind screamed.
Of course, the charges were dropped, since a legitimate eyewitness identified her father's true murder. However, he was seen by her, fleeing the scene of the crime. Her father’s blood splattered across the front of his Lakers T-shirt.
All the negative things she’d heard and personally knew about thugs came pouring into her head but was quickly replaced with some erotic images of what that massive beast could do to her poor defenseless body.
Where in the hell did, they grow them that big in New York? If he was in his late teens, then at five foot ‘four she could claim to be one of Santa's little helpers.
Why is he still touching me? Her mind raced.
A tiny shiver raced up her spine. Her nipples hardened involuntarily, and heat shimmered somewhere deep inside her core.
And why does he feel so manly and doesn't seem to want to let go of me?
Is….is that a tree trunk in his pants or is he just happy to see me?
Oh, dear, God!
Don’t let him hurt me, her frightened mind pleaded, but her body seemed to react to something else including his imposing height and size, especially the bulge.
For some unexplainable reason, Debbie wanted to sink her teeth and nails into the hard, hard flesh while violently smashing and grinding her pussy lips against his impressive length till she came.
Why? Only God in heaven would know.
She a virgin, Christian woman for crying out loud, though she cussed like a sailor at times.
Right now, however, those Christian values were quickly slipping away from her grip.
Before she could lose complete control of her body and give in to her body’s urges, she stepped quickly from his embrace and took in his expressionless face.
The dark, handsome chisel face and deep golden eyes of the maintenance guy stared calmly back at her. The person who Jaime had mentioned, in a disturbed manner after Tyrese’s accident, was only eighteen years old.
Or was he over twenty already?
She didn’t remember, nor did she want to...
Right now...
At this very moment…
The urge to violently fuck his brains out where he stood was becoming unbearable that she started to ache down there.
Where were these sick inappropriate thoughts coming from?
“Yes, thank you” she replied breathlessly and a hell of a lot frightened of her own free will.
It took all her home training for her to even be civil when she pushed away from him, even politely rude to him at this point.
Breathing in deeply, she tried desperately to restore her shattered pride and to ignore the lust butterflies that still flapped around low in her pelvic area.
Must be the aftershock.
From the near humiliating fall to the floor or the w
ant to molest the overly grown child standing before her? Her conscience questioned.
The near fall, she would admit to any day, however... not even under torture would she confess to… the other reason.
Thinking of which, how the hell did she come from heading face first towards the floor to end up plastered securely to his chest? Her perky breasts smashed up against him, threatening to spill out of her faux wrapped dress neckline up on to his face.
“You’re welcome. You’ve got to be a little more careful in those heels, Lil mama. I just went to get a mop when I saw you going down. I just grabbed you as fast as I could” his deep voice rumbled out again.
Heat pulled in her panties, soaking them even more. Panty shield be damned!
“Those heels”, he’d said, “not d ‘em heels” as was common in the ‘hood, which meant he was somewhat educated.
Did this mean he was an educated thug?! With a huge dick?!
Where. The. Fuck. Were. These. Thoughts. Coming from?!
A slight side effect from his warm velvety voice that felt like it was rubbing ‘nastily’ against her sensitive skin spreading goose pimples along her body. Like velvet or silk on a cool day.
Even as a teenager, with the figure of a well-endowed woman, Debbie was never into her neighborhood ‘Thugs, Hustlers or gangsters’ as they called themselves, like most of the other girls from her ‘hood was into.
Especially with what happened with her dad. So why she was all flustered and short of breath as this...this man child continued to stare down at her she asked herself angrily.
Her expression gave away some part of her thoughts because, suddenly, the man-child’s body language changed from friendly to cold and distant in a matter of seconds.
Somehow, he must have read the thoughts running through her crazy-ass mind or across her expressive face, because, dude, his calm expression never slipped, but the slight narrowing of his eyes like an offended predator as she shifted from foot to foot and looked around for eyewitnesses, was all the indication that whatever he read from her curious expression was not to his liking.
“Excuse me. Got to go clean up.”
Gracefully he stepped around her like the huge cat she imagined him to be and walked away to mop up the floor without a backward glance.
6
Jaime held his breath to help calm his racing heart, right hand gone unconsciously to the place above his left nipple.
A pleasant shiver tingled up his spine, proof of his happiness, in more ways than one.
He’d seen the whole thing and was so...happy ….and sad at the same time.
It was he who had notified the handsome, young Mr. Swayne of the spill on the floorboards coming from the AC closet.
He’d just turned away and had gone back around the high counter of his new reception area, his hand outstretched to pick up the company’s phone that had been ringing off the hook lately when a loud gasp was heard and he’d seen Debbie taking a nasty head dive.
He’d rushed back around the counter to help stop the fall or at least assist her to her feet, when out of nowhere, Nigel had swooped in, grabbed Debbie by her forearm so forcefully that she spun around on the same heel that nearly sent her to the hospital, into a sensual twirl and neatly tucked her to his chest, his bulging arms wrapped tightly around her.
Jaime had almost melted into the cracks of the floorboards and had almost cried out in protest also when he noticed the hot look Nigel had given Debbie the minute she was in his arms.
Immediately the catty, jealous woman trapped in his male body reared her ugly green-eyed head.
How could that bitch think she could come up in this piece and rub her skank-so-called-engaged-ass all upon that handsome stud muffin and think she could get away with it? Was the first question that ran through Jaime’s mind?
But when the girl had stepped away from the delicious stud in obvious fright, the young man’s usual empty mask had fallen into place and Jaime’s disappointment had been forcefully reined back into submission.
Seeing Nigel walk away from Debbie without a backward glance made it even more complicated than he thought this was going to be.
Goodness!
He’d found Debbie’s dance partner for the showcase.
7
Lucy gasped as blood gushed forth from her mouth and nose, her face stinging from the last slap Harold had dealt her.
She laid there sprawled across the cold linoleum floor of the apartment's tiny kitchen, fading in and out consciousness.
Lucy began to wonder if this was finally it. Would the man she had sacrificed her happiness for finally end their miserable marriage in death?
This time he had beaten her worse than ever.
She had finally decided to put him out and file for a divorce.
But he had not taken it the way she had expected since she'd had the police throw him out and placed a restraining order against him.
She was tired of choosing a man, this man over her one and only child.
She loved her son so much that she had stayed married to an abusive man to protect him.
A man she hadn't loved since she'd found her true love, to help feed and clothe him and not have them both living on the street or have him going from foster home to foster because of her “independence.”
The final straw had been when he'd tried to kill her child right before her eyes.
For two years, while Nigel was incarcerated for crimes he never committed, Harold had disappeared from her life and now he was back.
What had her confused was what had brought on his latest rage.
She'd begged him to forgive Nigel two weeks after the last incident and to understand that he was just defending his life.
Harold had then plainly told her how much he wished he had killed baby Nigel one night in his crib after visiting his parents for the 4th of July holiday.
Only his father had caught him in the nursery, drunk and incoherent. Shocked beyond words, Lucy had run away from her home to her best friend's house.
There she confessed to Deidre of the horror she had lived for the past eighteen years.
How could he have found out? How could he have known? How could she not notice that he knew? He'd threatened the life of her baby so many times and suffered years of abuse because she felt like she had failed them both: her husband and her son.
How could she have thought to keep her only sin a secret forever from him? How could she be so stupid? She asked herself many times.
But tonight, somehow, Harold had gotten past the cop that was stationed downstairs in the cruiser for the last twelve days and had broken into her apartment while she slept.
Now here she lay, bleeding on her clean kitchen floor after running in here to escape him.
She'd threatened him with a knife.
That simple act had her here, bleeding her life away.
Drifting off into the black fog, she prayed that God, her beloved son and the one true love of her life would forgive her for transgressions against them.
8
Debbie danced and danced till her feet ached, trying to burn off her excess energy and her troubles away.
From her earlier anger? You bet your bottom dollar on it. From any other frustration? Don’t even think about it, she growled menacingly at herself.
Since she believed in the creator and couldn’t sing to save her life, she used her talent of dance to portray God’s blessings in her life, and sometimes, like today, she danced just to release frustrations.
She’d practiced her dance performance by herself, as best as she could without a partner or without borrowing one from an unoccupied couple.
Dante, Trevor, and Marcus even Angelino all knew the steps to hers and Tyrese’s sultry Kompa dance for the showcase.
They’d seen the performance come to life as it were, from the beginning to the end. All the participating couples in the showcase did.
However, they flunked in bringing out the feeling and emotions of the dance
steps in Debbie.
Each time she practiced with one of those guys, she felt like the moves were all wrong.
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but each time she practiced the dance with one or the other men, she just didn’t feel right.
Tonight, it was even worse.
Twice, Marcus had stepped on her right foot as he tried ever so lazily to feel up her assets.
And were the nigga’s armpits smelling something fierce of old sweat while groping her.
She felt the ghetto-part of her take a step back and thought, Ok, that… That’s just nasty! I mean… for such a fine-looking, grown-ass niggah, I must go through all this... groping and stank armpit shit... just to get some practice?!
To help another niggah out?!!
Na-ah! Hell no! This shit train stops here, right now!
She stepped out of Marcus’s arms as another wave of hot, stank sweat smell waffled up from under his arms and bitch slapped her once more.
Jaime saw the confrontation coming from a mile away and it was about time.
The minute he saw Debbie pull out of Marcus’s embrace enraged, he knew the shit was about to hit the fan. And he knew why.
Shit, even he could smell Marcus from way over here…behind the counter... across twenty feet of open space.
But come what may, this was not the time or the place to have this confrontation on his dance floor.
However, this was the perfect opportunity to present his plan to Debbie.
The question was how to convince this little prickly rose of his choice of partners for her?
True, he was the boss and she was just an employee of his...
And… that she was helping him out in his desperate time of need-like that one time when she desperately needed his advice with her fiancé Eric who insisted that they have sex before being married two years ago...
Also, she was supposed to be his friend you know the old saying ‘a friend in need…’ and all that other shit.
Jaime sighed as he prepared to face the consequences of his future actions.
9
