Trapnights

by AP Jermaine

  “Eighteen. If it’s straight, we’ll be back.”

  “Yo Walt, can you get eighteen? Yeah. Hell no, man. You know I’m straight up. Alright. Okay. Later.” Bubba hung up and walked back over to me. “He says he’ll give me half a kilo for twelve stacks. He gets off work in about thirty minutes. I told you he works at the hospital.”

  “Where you meet this dude at?” Suddenly I felt suspicious.

  “I met him through this white chic who used to buy dope from me. White folks, that’s where it’s at. Niggas will keep you in clothes and shoes, but them “White Folks,” will make you rich. I think she moved back to Jersey or something. But she left old boy my number and he called me one night with a proposition. Morphine for cash. Every now and then he’d let me trade him some heroin for the morphine. But I don’t think he get high. I think he be giving it out to tricks. Some niggas cut they shit wit quanine cause it’s cheaper, but all that does is make em scratch. They love to scratch, but they love to nod more. That morphine, have em sucking they own dick!”

  I hoped Bubba wasn’t out here bullshitting me on no cowboy shit, cause tonight, I wasn’t taking no prisoners. “Latifah.” I yelled for her to come to me.

  “Yes baby.” She peaked her head out the door. “Can I come out now?”

  “Yeah, bring me that Adidas bag.” In a flash, Latifah was at my side with my black and grey Adidas gym bag. I tucked my gun in my waistband, just long enough to reach in and throw out twelve bands. “There you go. I’ll wait here. Take your peoples wit ya.”

  “What’s that dog?”

  “Twelve racks. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Oh, you trust me now?”

  “I don’t trust myself these days nigga. But the way I see it, if you run off wit that, I lost twelve thousand, but maybe saved myself a million.”

  “Ha Ha Ha. You still a crazy motherfucker aint ya?”

  “Crazy in love wit money.” My face showed no emotion.

  “Aight dog, I’ll be back through here probably in bout an hour.”

  “Yeah we’ll be here.”

  Bubba grabbed the money up off the floor, and left the room with Jack and Jill. About fifteen minutes after his departure, Latifah and I quickly gathered our shit, and went back to the car. Now taking a different set, of identification into the hotel; minus the hat and shades, Latifah was now, Samantha Potaye. The prior room was in the name of one Leslie Harrington. Working at the DMV did have its perks. My working chic. She needs to be fucked good just like the rest of em. She wants to cum. We all do. Room 1608 was about two hundred feet across a breezeway from room 1600. 1608 was our previous room, and now we were camped out in 1600. It took twenty- five minutes, total.

  “Baby.” Latifah whined from the couch as I peeped through the curtain at 1608. “Come over here with me.” She continued her plea.

  “Nah I gotta watch this spot.” Her long brown legs caught my peripheral.

  “He said an hour baby. It’s only been thirty minutes. We got time.” Her sexy whining got the best of me, and before I could say “hard on,” my dick was out and in her mouth. It thrilled her that she couldn’t wrap her whole hand around my thickness. “MMMMMMMM!” She moaned with her mouth full of my dick as her pussy started to dampen. Her track star long legs were what always thrilled me.

  “You love sucking this dick, don’t you?” I asked as she licked at my sack.

  “MMM, Hmmm!” She whimpered between nibbles at the skin underneath my balls. Whew!

  “So, do your thing then girl.” I coaxed her on. Suddenly, and without warning, Latifah’s neck and mouth seemed to find new strength! She sucked and pulled hungrily! Looking, searching for that hot treat she knew I held within me. But as the rumbling started in my calves, hurriedly I pushed her back off the dick before she fucked around and got just what she was looking for! Not yet. “Slide over.” I commanded as I smacked Latifah’s red ass. My hard print was already starting to show as she crawled over to give me space. I kicked off my jeans and Polo Boxers, climbed up on the bed and laid back. “Aight. Bring that pussy to my face,” I said reaching out and sliding my middle finger through her wet slit. The stunned look on her face lasted only a second. Even though I knew she was probably as clean as they come, I’d never eaten Latifah’s pussy. I don’t think I liked it as much as I do now either. I was a very picky eater. Still am. But now I gotta seduce. Meanwhile, quick as a cheetah Latifah crawled up to my face and put her pussy right on my mouth. “Uh Uh. Sixty - nine.” I smacked her ass again! Latifah’s eyes lit like a Christmas night as she spun around with all the skill of a gymnast, slammed my dick back into her mouth and lowered her hot wet hole to my lips. The sweet musky scent of that curly indian pussy hair, I must admit, was intoxicating! She had strick orders from me, to never do any more than trim down her pussy hairs. Ladies, niggas do enjoy some pussy hair sometimes. Real niggas anyway. Even if it aint no more than an occasional Mohawk. Mix it up. Just keep it fresh and everything else will fall in place. Now, wrapping my arms up around her waist from underneath, interlocking my fingers at the small of her back to secure her in place, quickly and with expert precision, I slid the length of my tongue across her soaking wet pussy.

  “AAAAAH!” Latifah screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors.

  “Be quiet and put that dick back in yo mouth.” Latifah whined and moaned as she molested my dick and balls, while at the same time I tried to push my whole tongue inside her pussy hole! Her curly hairs tickled my chin. A mouth full of my dick, was the only thing keeping her screams to a high moan. Her pussy was sweet tasting, yet tangy. Just the right mixture of cleanliness and her running around all day. All my real niggas know and love the taste. Her neck seemed like a slinky on a string, as she greedily sucked at my dick! A slick tongue manipulation of the head and a long lick at my balls from Latifah, made my toes curl, warning me that my nut was close! Quickly I pulled one of her moist pussy lips into my mouth and smacked her on her ass so hard my hand stung!

  “OHHHH!” Was her only complaint. “OH GODDDD!” Latifah failed to follow my order to be quiet as I tongue fucked her pussy! With long wet strides, Latifah licked up the front, then down the backside of my wood. Hungrily, I latched onto her clit like a baby to a tit! It proved to be too much for her, as she yelled like a Banshee, and shot her sweet syrupy orgasm, all across my face and into my mouth! It tasted like peach juice! I drank it all down happily. Her passion cries could be heard up here on the sixth floor, by those walking by in the parking lot below! To quiet her, I slapped my dick back into her mouth. She went back at the dick with a vengeance! And within minutes, I gave her what she was whimpering for. A hot load shot down her throat. My square bitch. White light shot through my eyes as she pumped me for all I had. Such a greedy girl. Sinfully I buried my tongue in her now cum soaked pussy, and licked down the length of her snatch, searching for any signs of her peach orgasm that may have gotten by me the first time. Latifah shuddered as she licked the line beneath my balls. Once more, I latched onto her clit and pulled hard. Her whimpers were so loud, I thought she was crying! Finally, weakened, we unlatched from one another. The look of complete satisfaction was evident in her eyes. Mission accomplished. Normally, eating her pussy wouldn’t even have been an option. Just straight fucking, and some dick sucking. But now I needed to make sure I had her mind totally. Oral orgasm is the perfect seducer. Make her cream, and she’s on the team. Believe it or not my niggas. Don’t fuck around and let the next nigga slip up on your bitch, just because he knows how to eat that pussy up. All women wanna cum. Just like men. If not, then what’s the use. Don’t worry ladies yall know I got you. “I love you Banks.” Latifah looked dreamily up into my eyes as her words dripped with truth.

  “I love you too ma.” Don’t look shocked. Yeah, I said it. Even if I’m lying like a thief in court, why not go with the flow. Hurting her feelings is something I must keep off the list right now. Ladies, don’t be angry with me. You said you wanted the untold truth. So, I’m giving it
to you. The real.

  “Oh shit, baby!” Latifah looked into my eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I came too hard! My right leg won’t stop shaking!” Amused I looked down at her, while she stared back up at me, adoration mixed with worry sketched across her facial features.

  “Just lay still for a minute. It’ll stop.” I laughed. My “Hard knock life” ringtone brought us back to the situation at hand. Grabbing my pants up off the floor, I dug out my phone and answered. “Yeah?”

  “Yo, what up bru? I been standing out here for ten minutes. You in there?” I looked down at my phone and saw the thirteen missed calls from Bubba.

  “Nah. I aint in there. Go get back in your car.”

  “What?” Bubba was confused. Good.

  “Go get back in your car nigga.” Peeking through the room blinds, I saw Bubba, Jack and Jill standing in front of the previous hotel room. “Go get back in the car. I need you to meet me in Durham.”

  “Meet you in Durham? Damn bru, you know I got all this shit on me. What if I get pulled!”

  “Nigga what if I get pulled after you give it to me! One way or another, the shit got to go back up the highway, so we might as well do it now. Tell the fiends they can ride or stay. I’m sending the address I want you to meet me at to your phone. It’s an apartment complex off Holloway Street. It’s 6:00 now. Meet me there at midnight. That should give you plenty of time.”

  “Man, this some crazy ass shit.” Bubba complained.

  “Nigga what’s crazy about making motherfuckin money! You said you ready to get it, then let’s get it! I’m about to put you on nigga. But we do shit my way. Either that, or take the twelve bands, and consider it a gift for looking out while we were locked. Ain’t nothing personal dog, but that’s the way it’s gotta be.” There was a three or four second quiet as Bubba seemed to be contemplating my orders.

  “It’s all good bru.” Bubba blurted out. “You know I aint come this far to leave now. I’m a real nigga Banks. I’d never leave you hanging. Hopefully after all this, shit will be good wit us bru.”

  “Hopefully so. Be there at midnight. Don’t be early, don’t be late.”

  “Aight my nigga. Let’s get this money. These two say they wanna ride. If we get pulled, make sure you come bail me out. Fuck them.” I laughed and Bubba laughed back.

  “Midnight.” I reinforced

  “Aight dog. I’m hitting the highway. One.”

  “One,” I answered his farewell as I watched at the curtain until Bubba and his two associates got back into his white charger and pulled off. We waited thirty more minutes before Latifah and I gathered our shit, headed out and got back on the highway. Playtime was over.

  Chapter 57 “Black Magic”

  It was just around eleven p.m. when I slid up in apartment B-4, at 2733 Holloway Street. “The Grays,” the complex was nicknamed. Directly across the street from “The Key.” Two infamously known, out of the way get money spots in Durham. A lotta Caucasian cliental. But we’ll get to that later. Inside the apartment there was no T.V, no bed, no personal items of any kind. The only furniture in the house was a large round table in the kitchen area. The bag I now carried read Gucci on its side. On the inside, was nine ounces of raw heroin, and twenty thousand cellophane baggies; Black, with the words “Black Magic,” stamped across the front in white. I admit I got the idea for the name from Frank Lucas’ “Blue Magic.” If you remember, Frank had the best heroin in the country at the time. A large flour sifter and digital scales were in the kitchen cabinet. To her dismay, I’d instructed Latifah to drop me off. Her job was finished, for now. I sat down at the window so I’d have a good view of the parking lot when Bubba pulled in. My only faithful girl, Ms. 357, was by my side as always. That’s why I loved her so. She was always down for her man. From the kitchen drawe, I retrieved an ounce of “Loud,” some Dutches, and a pint of Hennessey. The “Loud” I was smoking, was called “Gorilla Orange Willow!” Tamia’s homegirl Neese had brought it back from Cali. She’d stayed in L.A. over the summer wit some cat who was supposed to be an up and coming rapper. During her stay, she’d went and gotten herself a medical marijuana card for her “severe back pain.” Go girl. Now, “Loud” was her hustle. She kept the best shit on deck! Even I, an ounce a day pothead couldn’t smoke more than a half a blunt of that legit shit. To put it shortly, that shit was fire! I took it easy on the tree and the Henny. I wanted to mellow out, not fall out. Twenty - five minutes later, I was high as a motherfucker as I watched Bubba’s charger pull into the parking lot. He called me four times. I didn’t answer. Fifteen minutes later, I hit his phone and told him what apartment.

  “Damn nigga. You on some deep cover shit like a motherfucker aint ya?” Bubba smiled as he walked past me into the apartment, followed by Jack and Jill.

  “First of all, the nigga in Deep Cover was a pig. I’m not. Secondly, yeah; I’m on some shit, cause that’s how it’s gotta be. Ain’t nobody gonna love me like me.” I told him sternly.

  “I feel what you saying bru, but I’m yo nigga if you don’t get no bigger. You can trust me dog.”

  “Nigga, if I didn’t at least somewhat trust you, then you wouldn’t be standing in front of me. Now get that morphine out and bring it to the table so we can get started.”

  “Gotcha dog.” Bubba laughed as he reached into his North Face booksack and brought out the morphine. It was packaged inside a small black trash bag then wrapped in plastic. The first thing I did, was walk to the kitchen, get the scales and weigh it. It was five hundred and three grams. “You satisfied now dog?” Bubba asked.

  “So far. But the night is young. Open it up.” I told him as I watched the hunger sparkle in Jack and Jill’s eyes. My hand rested on my trey pound underneath my shirt. As soon as Bubba had fully unwrapped the morphine base, the smell almost choked me. Bubba laughed like a motherfucker.

  “Yes sir. Virgin lungs. You’ll get used to it after a while bru.”

  “Yeah, whatever nigga.” I said as I reached into my Gucci bag and came out with the nine ounces of raw boy. The smell of the dope was even stronger than the morphine. Reaching back into my bag I produced four dust masks and four pairs of latex gloves.

  “I don’t need none of that.” Jill blurted out pointing to the masks and gloves.

  “Me neither.” Jack volunteered right behind her. All I could do was laugh. Dope fiends to the heart. Using a table spoon, I dipped in the bag and weighed out seven grams of the raw boy, bagged it and put it in my pocket. Even with the mask on, I could still smell the dope.

  “Aight. Go ahead and do your thing. You fuck my shit up, or if anything seems funny, I’m killing everybody in here.” I announced as I pulled out my 357 and held it at my side.

  “Damn dog. What’s up!” Bubba looked at the gun in my hand.

  “Nothing personal homeboy. But if this don’t work out to my liking, then nobody leaves here alive but me. If your people as thorough as you say, then you aint go shit to worry about. Right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so man. But damn. You gotta have that big fucking gun in your hand? You might make em nervous.” Bubba kept looking from me to my gun.

  “They’ll get over it.” I looked over at Jack and Jill, and didn’t know which was the cause of their “deer in the headlights” wide eyes. The sight of all the raw boy, or the size of my 357. Keeping my eyes on everybody, I laid my ratchet down long enough to weigh out 84 grams of the dope and push it to the middle of the table. “Aight go ahead and do ya thing.” I told Jill as she stepped closer to the table.

  “Let me put a one on it and see if it can stand it?” Jill asked, still focused on the heroin even though I held a loaded weapon in my hand. One; meaning to cut the dope with the morphine, gram for gram. Say ten grams of morphine for every ten grams of heroin.

  “The Haitians said to put a three on it at least. What the fuck you talking about a one.”

  “Haitians!” Jack blurted out from across the table.

  “Yeah H
aitians. That’s who I been fucking wit. Rawest shit on this side of the country. You fuck this up they’ll murder me, so I’m gonna murder you first so my death won’t be in vain. You starting to feel where I’m coming from?” Now everybody’s eyes left the table and focused back on my gun.

  “Just chill out baby. I’m forty - one years old, and I been shooting dope since I was sixteen. My mama turned me on. We used to shoot up together. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. We gone cut the dope right sweetie, we just gotta take it one step at a time, okay?”

  I looked around the table and everybody was still staring at the gun in my hand. It’s amazing how something only a fraction of the size of a human being demands so much attention. “Aight. That’s what’s up. But put a two on it at least. I’m telling you the shit raw. No more talking, do it. Times wasting.”

  Promptly Jill weighed out (7) seven grams of the heroin, and (14) fourteen grams of the morphine. With a sifter and a spoon, she grinded the compressed heroin mixed with the morphine through the screen, until a neat pile lay underneath the sifter on the table.

  “I’ll test it!” Jack jumped up like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.

  “I don’t give a fuck who test it, but the shit better be right. Bubba you sure it’s good to cut this shit wit morphine?”

  “Better than good. The best.” Bubba smiled. From parts unknown to me, Jack whipped out a syringe and began preparing his works. Taking the silver spoon, I scooped a small amount up on the tip, and poured it onto the table in front of Jack. Hurriedly he dashed to the sink and filled the cap of his Old English 800 forty -ounce bottle with cold water, before racing back over to the table. We watched as he mixed and fixed the dope to his liking inside the cap, drew the mixture up into the syringe, then pushed the needle into his vein. Slowly he pulled the stick of the syringe out as we watched it fill with blood, before he eased the stick back in, as the blood left the syringe, disappearing back into his arm. Jack grunted, rocked back and forth, then suddenly his eyes rolled to the back of his head, before he fell face first into the floor, the needle still dangling from his arm! His body shook uncontrollably as if he were being electrocuted! Thick, white foam started to gather at the corners of his mouth and his bowels broke loose, filling the room with the smell of defecation! “Oh shit!” Bubba yelled.