by M. T. Pope
A Clean Up Man
M.T. Pope
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Titles by M.T. Pope
Dedication
Acknowledgments
A Letter to the Reader
Part 1 - Married Man Fever
Chapter 1 - A Working Man
Chapter 2 - Mr. Soda Pop
Chapter 3 - Measuring Up
Chapter 4 - A House Is Not a Home
Chapter 5 - Easy Access
Chapter 6 - Momma Mia!
Chapter 7 - Complications
Chapter 8 - Out of Control
Chapter 9 - Right to Remain Silent
Chapter 10 - Out on a Limb
Chapter 11 - It’s T Time
Chapter 12 - Pawns
Part 2 - Operation Love Me
Chapter 13 - A Man’s Home
Chapter 14 - Out in the Open
Chapter 15 - Shake It Off
Chapter 16 - In Love
Chapter 17 - Nightcap
Chapter 18 - Overjoyed
Chapter 19 - Package Deal
Chapter 20 - Playtime
Chapter 21 - Fallin’
Chapter 22 - Second Thoughts
Chapter 23 - Transformers
Part 3 - Dropping the Bomb
Chapter 24 - Signed, Sealed, Delivered
Chapter 25 - Bedridden
Chapter 26 - Congratulations
Chapter 27 - Breaking Out
Chapter 28 - Mind Your Business
Chapter 29 - Cat and Mouse
Chapter 30 - First Strike
Chapter 31 - “Mi Hijo, Mi Hijo”
Chapter 32 - No Rush
Chapter 33 - Mother Dear
Chapter 34 - I Know
Chapter 35 - Lost and Found
Chapter 36 - Court Is In Session
Chapter 37 - A New Chapter
Copyright Page
Other Titles by M.T. Pope
Both Sides of the Fence
Both Sides of the Fence 2: Gate Wide Open
Both Sides of the Fence 3: Loose Ends
Don’t Drop the Soap (e-story)
Anthologies
E-book Only: Anna J Presents . . . Erotic Snapshots Vol.1 (“My Man for a Minute”)
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (“A Dishonorable Discharge”)
This book is dedicated to my family: both Blood and Love.
Acknowledgments
This is book number four or five (publication wise) for me. I owe it all to God for blessing me with a wonderful gift that He chose to spring forth at the appointed time. Thank you, God, for finishing another book for me.
To my mom, Lawanda Pope, a little woman with big strength. You make me smile every time I see you. You are the best mom in the world. I love you. My brothers and sisters: Shirley, William, Darnell, Darlene, Gaynell, Latricia, Nathon, and Yvette. I love you guys.
To my pastor, Melvin T. Lee, and First Lady Tanya Lee, for coming out and showing love at my first book signing and everything else I do in this life. I promise, Dad, that the Christian Fiction is coming . . . lol. To all my Because He Lives church family members. I love you with only the love that God shines through me. WE ARE! . . . BECAUSE HE LIVES!
To Tracey Bowden and Arnisha Hooper, my two best friends in the world. I can’t even begin to say how much you mean to me. I don’t say it enough and I don’t show it enough, but I can’t pay for friends like you two. You put up with my mess and my mouth and I am grateful. For all the book signings you drove me to, all the books you sold for me, and all the bookmarkers you passed out. I appreciate it so much. There are just some things in life that you just know. I know that only God could have put together and you two were chosen just for me. I am honored to have you as my friends.
Carl Weber, once again, thank you for this opportunity, and all that you do.
To all the Urban Knowledge Bookstore workers that pushed my book, it is appreciated . . . May God bless you in all your endeavors.
To the Urban Books home office family: Karen, Natalie, George (Gee), Brenda, Shawn, Walter . . . you guys make this easier for me.
To Martina Doss, Karen Williams, Ms. Jennifer Briscoe, Ricky Hollingsworth: thank you for reading the first draft of this book.
To Kenneth Goffney, Again, I am totally blown away by God and how He used you to bless me. You came out of nowhere and lent a helping hand when I needed it the most. I thank God for you and the time you’ve put into this project. Thank you, friend.
To all the book clubs that hosted me, thank you for the love and support as well. Especially my hometown book clubs: The Bmore Readers with W.I.S.D.O.M. Kudos to Tasha and Pat. ShayRod Book club, my first book club meeting. Y’all are the bomb. Dwayne Vernon and Novel-Lites. Carlos & P.A.G.E.S.
Davida Baldwin, Oddballdesigns(www.oddballds-gns.com), thank you for another slamming cover.
To my editor, Maxine Thompson, thank you for guiding my writing hand with your insightful eye to make my work flow better.
I want to give a special thanks to couple of people who really supported me from a distance:
Martina Doss, for giving me my first official review and selling my books down there in Atlanta. Also, thank you for calling me and letting me know how my books moved you. You have to finish your book now . . . lol.
My literary friend, J’son M. Lee (Just Tryin’ to be Loved). Man, you are the best. We clicked from day one and we have so much in common. Thank you for answering the phone every time I call. I’m waiting on that second book, sir. Chop chop . . . lol.
To the people that encouraged me along the way. Kenneth Goffney, your words are so inspiring. I am glad to call you friend. Marcel Emerson, boy, you are the coolest. Keep pumping out them hot books.
Deterrius Woods, an extraordinary Facebook buddy. Don’t be afraid to finish your book. You have some great stories to tell, so get to work.
Kyeon, you have so much talent that it is ridiculous. So get started and get yourself out there.
My e-supporters. I have never met you in person but you always are encouraging and honest about my work.
My Wal-Mart family: Shernae, Tamara, Renee, Gary, Ms. Val, Danuiella, Keisha, Wayne, Sharon. Thank you, guys, for your love and support. I miss you guys . . . lol. But, not the work . . . lol.
My Baltimore customers that I can count on: Ms, Cheetah, Ms. Janet, Ms. Konnie, Charlene (Gemini), Ebonee, Keyonne, Shavonni (Vonnie). Ms. Jennifer, Ms. Michelle Lawson. Mrs. Debbie.
If I left you out, put your name here:____________________, because you are important to me too.*Smile*
I can be reached at www.myspace.com/mtpope, www.facebook.com/mtpope, www.twitter.com/mtpope, or e-mail me at [email protected]. Thank you for the love.
A Letter to the Reader
Hello everyone,
I hope you have read my previous books and are ready for a new series . . . Just kidding . . . lol. It’s just one book this time. Mentally and physically, I struggled with getting this one done. Sometimes life gets in the way and interrupts the flow of things. I don’t think that readers really know what an author goes through to bring the reader a story that will entertain and enlighten at the same time. Well, I tried again with this book. I tried to pour in emotion, life, drama, romance, pain, regret, and more so that you would remember the story long after you read it. I think I succeeded, but I’m not foolish enough to think that everyone would get it and that is okay with me.
Kraig was a whole new character for me and I think that you will love or hate him, but please don’t judge him. He is flawed in many ways but he is also gifted in even more ways. So don’t let the drama fool you, he has a heart, it’s just buried under
some pain.
A Clean Up Man, the title, came to me because I like Betty Wright’s song, “Clean Up Woman.” I thought it would be a great idea to write a book centered around a clean up man, but with a back story and a twist. I labored and labored over this book and, boy, was it a hard one, because I am used to writing books with more than one protaganist. Kraig was my first solo character and book. I loved his story and the people in his life. He had some issues and he did his best, just like any of us, to handle them on his own, but like life, some things just get the best of him and he buckled under the pressure. Join me as I take you on a journey of A Clean Up Man.
Part 1
Married Man Fever
Chapter 1
A Working Man
Have you ever been fucked in the ass so hard that it felt like the dick was going to pop out your chest like the little alien popped out of the man’s chest in the movie Alien? Well, that was what I was feeling like right about now as this skinny brother was giving me the fucking of my life. I was getting it in good, too. There was nothing like well-hung man who knew how to use his pipe. Besides the dick, the thrill of doing a married man sent me over. It was like I was Evel Knievel getting ready to jump out of a plane tied up in a straitjacket. I could lose some money and maybe get fucked up real good if we got caught in this position, but this dick he was throwing at me was well worth it. I needed the money but I really wanted the dick. Usually, it was like flipping a coin. Heads or tail? But in this scenario, he got some head and some tail. We were both “winning,” as Charlie Sheen says it.
“Ahhhh shittttt!” I clamped my ass muscles around his dick and tried to push him off of me with one hand and hold on to the edge of the bathroom sink that I was supposed to be fixing with the other. They had some water leakage that needed to be dealt with, but we were working on a different type of plumbing problem at the moment.
“Slowwww . . . down,” I grunted, but he was not hearing it. It was like he was trying to finish fast. I always wondered why men tried to fuck fast like it was a race or something. They all had that bank robber approach going on: get in and get out as fast as you can.
“Damn, you so fucking tight,” he grunted as he slammed into me again. We had knocked all of the ceramic decor off of the sink during the beginning of our fuckfest. I guessed his wife wasn’t giving it to him like she should have, because pulling his ass and getting the dick was a little too easy. Her ass didn’t have a good choice in color schemes, either, because her brown and purple bathroom didn’t do it for me. She had everything coordinated, or uncoordinated for that matter: bathmats, floral shower curtains, and the paint job. Ray Charles probably could have done a better job.
“My wife . . .” He huffed as he continued to drill into me. “My wife ain’t got nothing on you. Damn, you feel so good.”
“Uh huh,” I moaned as I pushed back against his lap, driving his pipe deep inside of me. I was getting used to the size now. He was stroking me some kind of terrible. I knew I would have welts on me from him banging so hard into me while I was strewn across this sink. It was well worth it, though. Believe that. “You doing it, daddy! Knock a couple of screws loose. Drill that hole!” I egged him on.
Dude behind me was still going to town and I was still enjoying.
“I think I heard the front door open,” I said as I peeked over my shoulder as he pumped away. I knew it was the door because I heard it squeak when I entered their house the first time. I just wanted to bring it to his attention.
“Oh, shit . . . My wife.” His dumb ass was butterball naked and his clothes were in his bedroom where we started. I had mistakenly walked in on him as he came out of his master bathroom, which was attached to the master bedroom. He was all dripping wet from the shower he just took and my eyes lingered just little bit too long at the bulge underneath the Egyptian cotton towel that he had around his waist. Next thing I knew I was on my knees devouring his massive piece of meat. Instinct had told me to suggest to him to do me in this bathroom, closer to the steps that led downstairs. Like a dummy he was thinking with the wrong head and let his dick be his guide.
“Get the fuck off of me.” I pushed him off so I could get myself together. I simply pulled up my pants and placed my work belt back on. He was like a deer caught in headlights. I just looked at his ass, because I was fully dressed and he was still standing there stark naked. He couldn’t risk being caught coming out of the bathroom naked and running into his wife. So I had to do some quick thinking and fast.
“Lawwwrence . . . Lawwwrence . . . Lawwwrence . . .” Her voice got closer and closer. She was still calling his name as we both heard her footsteps coming up the uncarpeted steps.
“Up there, dumbass.” I pointed up and he looked at me with fear. A few seconds went by and his dumb ass finally put his hands and feet on opposite ends of the wall and scaled it with the agility of Spider-Man. Thankfully, the bathroom was the right size for him to get up to the top comfortably.
“Hi . . . Have you seen my husband?” She knocked on the door and came in.
I inspected all eleven inches of his dick if that counts, I thought. It took everything in me to keep myself together as she talked to me. I just wanted to get the hell out of their house with my body intact.
“No . . . I was in here working.” Everything in me was screaming and praying that this guy’s legs and arms would hold out. I had some confidence, but all the pumping he was doing fucking me made me a little leery. “Maybe he left out for some supplies or something,” I suggested, hoping she would get the hell out of the bathroom.
“Oh . . . Okay.” She looked confused. She went to walk out and then turned back around. “You hungry?” That’s when the impossible happened. The condom that dude forgot to take off hit her square in the middle of her forehead. She looked up and saw her husband and he had a silly-ass smirk on his face.
“Hey, baby. Everything okay?”
His ass is the biggest dummy ever. Why do I always get the ones with the big dicks and small brains?
“Fuck!” I bolted past her.
“Not again, Lawrence! You said the last guy was the last guy! I’m going to kill your ass this time!” I heard her yell at him as I made my way down the stairs.
I hopped in my truck and peeled that truck out of there so fast that I did a tailspin before I could get full control of the truck. I looked back over my shoulder when I got about two blocks away. I was breathing extremely hard.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I banged the steering wheel. A couple of blocks later I pulled into the parking lot of Lowe’s on Route 40. I reclined my chair all the way and thanked God for not getting my ass shot or stabbed. Then I smiled; I had a flashback of the sex that I just encountered. Dude was no joke in the dick department for sure.
Well, let me formally introduce myself. I’m Kraig. I am an independent building contractor and I did house jobs like this all the time. I was breaking up concrete and marriages all at the same time. Well, not really breaking them up, but having sex with the husbands didn’t help. I didn’t do it on purpose. My ass got me in trouble most of the time, literally. And this was just another one of those times. I had a pretty round behind and it was little more plump then the average man, but not big as an average woman’s behind. It was just enough to get a man attention. I was the average man, about five foot seven inches, when it came to build, size, and stature. Some muscle, curly black hair that was usually pulled back in a ponytail or done in cornrows. You see, to most unsuspecting couples, I was just a masculine, sports-watching, beer-drinking, cocky, bullheaded brother. That was true. I wasn’t the gay guy you saw on RuPaul’s Drag Race. I was the complete opposite; when you saw me on the street you’d probably try to holler at me. But I was what they call the “clean up” man, too. It wasn’t always easy to get these men to give up the goods, but some were just begging to be turned out. And the wives and girlfriends simply didn’t treasure the meat they had at home. Their nagging and complaining about the simplest things, and I would swoop
in and scoop him up and then spit him out. Constant complaints like not washing the dishes and then “I’ll hold out the sex on him,” or if he doesn’t listen to your every suggestion, and then you’ll hold out the sex on him. After a while your man is going get tired of you rolling over and he is going to start rolling over onto someone else. And, man, I did a lot of rolling in the last past couple of years. You see, you women are looking for the signs that your man is gay. Here’s a heads-up: there is no sign. You don’t find out until you find out. It could be the mailman, the milkman, the sandman, or me—the clean up man.
Be warned, ladies, about leaving your men alone with me because my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard . . . lol. Yours could be next.
I know what you are saying. You think I’m a whore, but I disagree. A whore has to look for his next supply. My supply comes to me most of the time.
I was contracted to come in to do a job and ended up doing the husband as well. It wasn’t every case, but I was running a solid 70 percent average. It was white, black, Asian, Hispanic, and even Pakistani men. Baltimore had all kinds of downlow men and they all had equal opportunity to fuck me or get fucked, sometimes both and usually in the house that I was fixing up.
“Damn, I left my tools!” I popped back up in my seat. It wasn’t the first time I had done it. And I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
“You are one bad boy.” I smiled as I looked at myself in my rearview mirror. I reached behind me because in my small back seat was a clean-up kit that I had for occasions just like this. It contained some Wet Ones, a washcloth, a travel-sized body wash, mouthwash, and some cologne. I quickly pulled my hair back into a ponytail and exited my Ford F-150 and made my way into Lowe’s. When I got in the store, I made a beeline for the bathroom. I needed a quick clean up before I got in reach of anyone. I had me and dude’s sweat all over me and it wasn’t a good look to be walking around smelly and grimy. I was in and out of the bathroom in about ten minutes. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom.
