Big Juicy Lips

by Allison Hobbs

  She set a plate heaped with breakfast foods in front of him. Brick dug into the scrambled eggs. “Yo, this is banging. You can burn, Ma.” He nodded his head as he threw down on her home cooking, something he hadn’t had in years. A sudden dark feeling came over him. It didn’t seem right for her to miss work to stay home and keep him company. It was real fucked up to be grubbing on food he hadn’t bought. Brick put his fork down. “You need some money, Miss Thomasina?”

  She cocked her head in surprise. “Where’d that come from? Boy, hush and eat your breakfast.”

  “Seriously, I have a couple hundred on me to help out with food and whatnot.”

  “What’s wrong?” She stared at him, her eyes focused on his scar; surprisingly the jagged cut no longer repelled her. She could look beyond it and see his good looks, his loving and trusting spirit.

  “Misty already paid for you to stay here. To be honest, I was thinking about giving the money back.” Feeling embarrassed and slightly off kilter, Thomasina turned her gaze away from Brick. “Even if you decide that this isn’t what you want…if you and Misty get back together—”

  “I’m not going back to Misty. I’m through with that life. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I’ve been here and I figured out something about myself.”

  “What?” Thomasina was curious.

  “It feels good to be treated nice. I never knew how it felt to be treated like I’m special.”

  “You are special.” Thomasina raked her hands through her short, thick hair. “Good sex feels like love, I guess. That’s probably our only connection.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “It feels like love to me. All I ever knew was mad, sad, scared, and lonely.”

  “You’ve never been happy?”

  Brick shook his head. “Back when I was a kid, I used to think I was happy if a day went by and my foster father didn’t whip my behind.”

  “What about Misty? Weren’t you happy before whathisface came into the picture?”

  “I worshipped the ground Misty walked on; I put her up on a pedestal, treated her like a queen. I didn’t mind how she treated me. I was grateful to be with her. So, I can’t blame Misty. Plus, that’s the way I was raised. My foster father told me to be grateful for whoever took care of me.”

  “But Misty didn’t work or take care of you.”

  “She taught me the ropes. I was grateful for that.”

  “Do you still love Misty?” Thomasina figured he did, but she wanted to hear the words straight from his mouth.

  Brick nodded. “Yeah. I’ll always love Misty. She gave me my heart.”

  “What?”

  “She took me under her wing, taught me to defend myself and how to make money for us.”

  Sorrow clutched at Thomasina’s heart. Her daughter had manipulated this sweet soul and she had personally treated him with enormous disrespect. Pounding it into his head that he wasn’t good enough for her selfish daughter. “There’s been a lot of hostility between us—in the past. And I’m sorry, Baron. I really am.”

  “Yo, I ain’t been no saint. I had plenty of harsh words for you, too. I apologize as well.”

  “Deep down, I always knew that my child was corrupt down to her core.”

  “She’s not all bad. Misty’s spoiled,” Brick said in Misty’s defense.

  “And I’m the one responsible for her spoiled, rotten ways.” She waved her hand, silencing him before he could defend her daughter again. “I don’t want to know what Misty had you out there doing to earn all that money; I really don’t.” She shook her head emphatically. “But whatever you were doing has got to stop. Right now. Today!”

  Brick reflected on Thomasina’s words. “I can’t let Misty take the blame for everything. See…” Brick inhaled, gathering his thoughts.

  Thomasina shuddered. Please, Lord, don’t let this man tell me he’s a hired assassin. “I said, I don’t want to know. The past is the past. Me and you…we’re going to move forward. Together. We’ll take small steps. No point in making a whole lot of promises. Let’s just treat each other good and see how far this can go.”

  Brick smiled—wide and broad, making his scar even more pronounced. Thomasina didn’t care. She wanted him—scar and all.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’m going out to look for a job. I never had a regular job before. But I’ll flip burgers or do whatever I have to do to take care of you. Y’ah mean?” As Thomasina beamed over the thought of a young strapping man coming home and paying some of the bills, Brick’s mind wandered to Misty’s fat stash. He’d never asked her for much of the money he’d brought in—a couple dollars here and there. She owed him and right about now, he could use some of that cheese. He looked at Thomasina. “I don’t want handouts. I can hold my own.” Brick shrugged. “I can do better than that. If you let me be the man in your life, I’ll take good care of you.”

  Thomasina had never heard sweeter words. She couldn’t help from blushing; she imagined a deep, red color blazing across her brown skin. Then reality hit. “What about Misty? She may not want you anymore. But knowing about me and you…” Thomasina shook her head ominously. “She’s not going let you go easily.”

  “I don’t owe Misty anything. Being her mother and all, I guess you feel like you’re doing her wrong. I can’t tell you how to feel but I do know that Misty is happy; she’s really in love,” he remarked without a trace of bitterness.

  Thomasina searched his face. “Are you using me—you know—trying to get revenge?”

  “No, ma’am.” Brick shook his head.

  Thomasina inhaled, closed her eyes as she squeezed her vaginal muscles. She loved the way Brick switched it up, going from speaking intimately, calling her baby and then addressing her respectfully as ma’am. Mmm. The dichotomy was unbearably sensual.

  “On the real, Misty did me a favor. The way we was living—it was starting to wear me down. She wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy.”

  “What do you need to be happy?” Thomasina sincerely wanted to know.

  “It don’t take much.” He looked up in thought. “I want to experience real love. Does it exist?”

  Thomasina shrugged; hell if she knew. She’d been used and abused in all her relationships—truth be told, she’d never experienced real love either.

  “Besides wanting to be loved, all I need is weed, booze, food, and sex,” he said, laughing. “But, I’m gon’ work on some of those bad habits. Gotta get ’em outta my system. I don’t know if you noticed, but I ain’t smoked no weed or drank a brew since I been here. Now that’s a miracle.” He gave her a wink. “It’s all because of you,” he added with a grin.

  His words warmed her; melted her heart. But she needed to stay focused, keep her wits about her. Happily ever after hadn’t happened to her and it wasn’t likely to start now; especially not with her daughter’s ex-boyfriend. “A few nights ago, you were miserable, tried to end your life.” She assumed a serious expression and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So, let’s be honest about our relationship. Misty put us together because she was feeling inconvenienced. She’ll call you back when she’s good and ready and I doubt if you’ll be able to tell her no.” Thomasina’s eyes swept downward in shame. “I spoiled her something awful. Made her think her looks were all she needed to get somewhere in life. Being average looking myself, I enjoyed all the attention of having such a beautiful daughter. But I ruined her. The way she is…selfish and inconsiderate—it’s really not her fault.”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Misty’s a grown woman. Grownups have to be responsible for their own selves,” Brick commented wisely. “I thought you said we could take small steps—toward a future together.”

  Thomasina tilted her head questioningly.

  “Well, right now, all we need to focus on is me and you.” He reached out, pulled Thomasina on his lap. “I know I’m a big boy, but you put enough food on this plate to feed a couple of troops.” Thomasina looked at his plate: bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausages, grits, a
nd toast. Brick forked up pieces of pancake. “Here, baby, help me eat some of this.”

  She sat uneasily, moving her hips around trying to adjust her ample butt and hips into a comfortable position. Brick carefully guided a forkful of pancakes toward her mouth. “Open up,” he coaxed and then ate the pancakes himself, as if proving to a young child that food was indeed good. “Mmm,” he said, prodding Thomasina to sample her own cooking. “Eat, boo. You gotta stay in shape. You know I like all that baby phat.” He patted her hip, squeezed her thickness, murmuring sounds of appreciation.

  She gave a girlish giggle. The sound so surprising, she covered her mouth and then removed her hand and self-consciously parted her lips. Brick fed her and then kissed her on the cheek as she chewed. In no time at all, Thomasina grew comfortable and began to enjoy the attention Brick was giving her. When he picked up a breakfast sausage and slowly slipped it between her lips, the sexual imagery was instant and powerful. As if they’d been simultaneously shot in the loins by Cupid’s arrow, their eyes locked in lust. “We can finish that later,” he told her. Utensils clattered as Brick pushed the plate away. He scooped Thomasina up and speedily headed for the stairs.

  Carrying her in his arms, Brick glided up the stairs. Thomasina was literally floating in the air. With her arms wrapped around Brick’s neck, she stealthily pinched her wrist. I’m not dreaming, she assured herself as her muscled young love gently lowered her onto the bed.

  CHAPTER 42

  Dane, Monroe, and Troy zipped to Narberth, Pennsylvania, where a high-paying, kinky couple waited for Troy to deliver his ashen-covered goods.

  Troy sat in the backseat, fidgeting. Dane passed him a Dutch to calm his nerves.

  Troy passed it to Monroe. “You up for this, man?” Monroe asked, pulling on the Dutch, his eyes glimmering with mocking amusement.

  “I got it.” Troy straightened his shoulders.

  “Yo, make sure you hit ’em up for a big tip. They didn’t tell me the wife was gon’ be in on it until a minute ago.”

  “Aiight.” Troy bit his bottom lip nervously.

  “Tell you what, yo. Since you so nervous and everything…”

  “I’m cool,” Troy protested.

  “Well, I think we should roll up in there and double-team that freaky couple. You let dude knock you off and I’ll pitch in and put wifey to bed.” Monroe rubbed his crotch. “With all this, shouldn’t take but a few minutes to make her cum.”

  “Man, you ain’t going in there.” Dane shot Monroe a scorching look.

  “Why not? I could use some extra cheese. Y’ah mean?”

  “Man, chill. Troy got it.” Dane craned his neck. “You cool, man?”

  “I’m aiight. I can do this.”

  “You don’t sound convincing,” Dane spat. “Nigga talk a bunch of shit, but when it’s time to put out, he ends up with the jitters.”

  “I ain’t got no jitters.”

  “Well, bounce, nigga. Stop wasting time—get out the whip and go put some work in.”

  Troy eased out of the back of the X5. Shoulders hunched, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, Troy plodded along the cobblestone path that led to a magnificent stone and stucco home.

  “Damn,” Dane muttered, watching as Troy was admitted inside.

  “What?”

  “I hope that nigga remembered to keep his legs, knees and his dick ashy.”

  Monroe’s jaw dropped.

  “Shit, this would be a helluva time for that nigga to start using lotion.”

  “Fill a nigga in. Whatchu talkin’ about, man?”

  Dane gave Monroe a cocky smile. He slid his seat back, reached behind and retrieved the laptop that was perched on the back-seat. He handed it to Monroe. “Pop it open and crank it up. I’m gon’ let you peep some shit. Fill you in on how that little bitch was making all that cheddar.”

  “You already told me. You said she be pimpin’ mufuckas.”

  “That’s only part of it. The bitch be charging mufuckas to peep the sick-ass pictures she got posted up on her website. Man, Lil’ Bit ain’t no joke. She got flicks showing niggas’ dicks spurting out cum; she got big, burly niggas posing like bitches in aprons and shit. Freak mufuckas been paying her top dollar to peep that freak shit. She even got a bitch with the fattest pair of pussy lips you’ll ever see splattered across the screen.”

  Thinking about the waitress at Hades, Monroe reared back, shocked.

  The wallpaper—multiple images of Misty—appeared on the computer screen. Monroe handed it to Dane, who moved his seat back even further, giving himself more elbow room to navigate the website.

  He clicked and scrolled and then pointed the screen in Monroe’s direction.

  “Whose ashy dick is that?” Monroe wondered aloud.

  “Ya boy, Troy. Lil’ Bit promotes him as Ashy Cashy; there’s been a big demand for his long, ashy dick.”

  “Yo, man. That’s disgusting. How much paper he pullin’ in for this shit?”

  “Why you wanna know?”

  “Just curious. Y’all getting money; I want some, too. My dick is bigger and longer than his. I’d be rolling in dough if I was in on this.”

  “Man, stop playing. How I look, pimping you out? Be patient; I told you, I gotchu.”

  Monroe eyed Dane suspiciously. He patted his empty pockets for emphasis and then slouched in his seat, muttering discontentedly.

  “Peep this cunt flick,” Dane exclaimed, changing the subject. “Yo, I guarantee, you ain’t nevah seen a pussy like this one.”

  Monroe gazed at Felice’s crotch shot. “I been all up in that,” he said, unimpressed.

  Dane’s heart stopped. “You got with Felice? When?”

  “I told you about it. Me, her and Misty. We worked it, three-way—that night at Hades.”

  Fire lit up Dane’s eyes. “You ain’t say nothing about no waitress.”

  Monroe frowned. “Yo, nigga. Fall back. Why the fuck you care where my dick been? Yeah, I hit it. So what?”

  “I’m just saying, how you gon’ keep that type of info to yourself?” Dane’s voice came out a little shaky, showing vulnerability, giving Monroe an edge.

  Monroe leaned forward, a scowl on his smooth, hairless face. He tapped the computer screen. “Man, I super-soaked that ho!” He guffawed loudly, shoulders rocking, head lolling, Nikes stomping the floormat in time with the rhythm of his laughter.

  A half-hour later, Troy bounced up to the whip, grinning. “Yo, that shit was dope.” He pulled a wad out of his pocket. “Check out the tip. Three bills, yo.”

  “I get half,” Dane mumbled.

  “I know,” Troy responded, looking back and forth from Dane to Monroe, noticing the tension in the air. No one bothered to respond to his questioning look. Monroe stared out the passenger window and had his hand stuck out, demanding his cut.

  “Damn, man. Can’t you wait ’til I get some change?” Troy scowled at Dane’s outstretched hand.

  “Don’t play with my money, youngin’. I got change.”

  Troy handed over the three bills. Dane pulled off. “Your next client is in Roxborough, somewhere.” He sucked his teeth. “I hate driving in Roxborough—all those narrow-ass, two-way streets. Shit is crazy. Ain’t none of them streets wide enough to be two-way,” Dane ranted. “Plus, I get corny-ass Roxborough and Manayunk confused. I probably should use this GPS system to get us there in time.” Dane pushed a couple buttons. “Fuck, I don’t know how to work this.” He sighed. “Y’all know?”

  “Nah, man. I ain’t with that GPS shit. So, um, what’s up with my change?”

  “I gotchu—when we finish up, tonight.” Dane twisted his face in annoyance, picked up speed and whipped through the dignified motorists cruising along Narberth’s Montgomery Avenue.

  “Yo, dawg. Don’t be breaking speed limits up around here,” Monroe cautioned. “These suburban cops be bored; they be looking for shit to pin on a nigga. I ain’t trying to spend the night in the joint, man.”

  “Man, stop whining.
Fuck these suburban cops. They living good up here in whitey world—shit, I’m trying to get mine.”

  “I know that’s right,” Troy agreed. “But, yo. Why I gotta wait ’til the end of the night? I’m trying to get mine, too.” He gave a heavy sigh. “That’s what the fuck I get for trying to come at you, all honest and shit.”

  In the middle of traffic, Dane slammed on the brakes. Monroe was hurled forward; his chest hit the dashboard. Motorists screeched to a halt, trying to prevent slamming into the SUV. Dane was oblivious to the chaos he’d created. With scrunchedup lips, he whipped his head around and cast an evil look at Troy in the backseat. “You thinking about holding back? You thinking about trying to cheat me?”

  “Nah, man,” Troy sputtered, squirming under Dane’s hateful gaze. “I was just saying—”

  Dane nodded at Monroe. “Yo, man. Monroe’s over here, trying to get off the bench—says he’s ready to jump in the game. If you not happy, just say the word.”

  “I’m cool, man.”

  “Aiight, then. Stop complaining; shut the fuck up.”

  Wordlessly, Troy stretched out his legs and slumped against the back of the leather seat.

  Monroe eyed Dane. “You driving this wheel like you crazy.”

  Dane frowned. “So.”

  “So? You’re using my license. That jawn is nice and fresh. I ain’t trying to get my shit suspended before I even get my first wheel.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Dane navigated his way to Roxborough. Troy was in and out in less than twenty minutes. “Yo, I need a break,” he complained as he slid in the back of the truck. “I’m hungry.” Troy winced and rubbed his stomach.

  “How much you get?”

  “Oh! Dag, I forgot.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a fifty.

  “You holding out, dawg?”

  “Nah, man. It ain’t even like that. Dude said he paid online.”

  Dane couldn’t dispute that. Troy didn’t even know about the internet situation. “So, why he come up all cheap? Was your shit ashy like I promised, dude?”