Shit, she was living a better life than she could’ve ever dreamed of growing up with her mama. When you grow up watching your ho-ass momma do her business in your face, the word trick takes on a whole new meaning. Trick or treat wasn’t about Halloween. It was about the treats that Momma would buy for Reba and Lucille if she let a trick come while the girls were home.
Momma would give each daughter a dollar from the money that she’d earned for suckin’ some crusty negro’s dick, then she’d send the girls skipping down to the corner liquor store to buy whatever she and her trick wanted.
Baby Blue’s mother, who used to stay in their tiny extra bedroom, while all three girls curled up to sleep together every night on the sofa bed in the living room, did the same thing; treats for their daughters after their tricks left.
Reba’s favorite was a long red popsicle, which she would lick and suck the same way she’d seen Momma do all them dudes dicks. Momma took all those muthafuckas into the bedroom, but Reba and Lucille would still watch through the keyhole in the door.
Lucille’s treat, though, was barbecue potato chips. She’d eat so many that her lips would burn, crack, and bleed from the salt and spices, because Lucille had the idea that love should hurt. So she followed in Momma’s nasty footsteps, as a street ho. She dropped out of school, got hooked on drugs, and worked for a pimp who put blue marks on her black ass.
But Reba wanted to live a nicer life, like the white people she saw on TV. Somewhere out there was a better way. And all the boys and girls on TV who grew up to be somebody had to finish school first. So Reba kept going to middle school and high school.
But when Baby Blue took her to a party at Babylon, and she saw all those rappers and dancers and fine-ass niggas with rolls of dough in their pockets, Reba felt like she’d just stepped into ghetto paradise.
Then Baby Blue, who was already working as a Slut since dropping out of ninth grade, introduced her to Duke. Reba fucked him that night, and it was all over.
She loved his stuff so much she joined the Sex Squad and started working the next day. She even moved into Babylon, sharing an apartment with Baby Blue. It was a nicer place than she’d ever had. Shoot, just the fact that she had heat, hot water, plenty of good food, and no roaches made it an inner city Taj Mahal when compared to the rat hole Momma had kept her and Lucille in.
At Babylon, to keep living this glamorous life, all Reba had to do was do what she already loved to do; fuck, and everything was taken care of. But now, so many years later, she was tired of humpin’ for a living. She didn’t want to do this hard work for the rest of her life. No, she was looking for early retirement. And Duke, sitting here in a hotel room with bullet wounds, a big dream, and his dick in his hand, was her 401K plan.
“Get some papers or your card from Doc, an’ this pussy yours for life,” Reba said. “Until then, I can polish yo’ knob wit’ my hands.”
“Naw, baby,” Duke said with a deep, almost sinister tone. “If we ain’t down all the way like this, it ain’t a done deal.”
Reba watched his chapped lips as he talked. She remembered how the girls used to say Duke had sucka lips. They were so sexy, that when he talked, all you could think about was wanting to suck on his bottom lip or his top lip or both at once.
But now, the dry skin made little vertical white lines up and down his lips. And while he talked, Reba thought she saw a red sore just inside his mouth. That could be a herpes blister or a syphilis chancre or a burn from a pipe or blunt. And all that made the thought of kissing him about as appetizing as licking a public toilet seat.
“Duke, I got rules for myself. You know how strict it be at Babylon.” Reba got a whiff of funk from his underarms. “Don’t ask me to toss ’em to the wind jus’ so you can blow yo’ nut.”
“Bye.” His word shot through the air like a bullet. “Get yo’ ass outta here. Bonnie an’ Clyde splittin’ up. Clyde gon’ get anotha bitch to get paid wit’.”
Reba stared into his angry eyes. “You bluffin’.”
“Bye.”
She stood up, turned her back to him and unzipped her jeans to reveal her bare pussy since she didn’t like wearing underwear. She pulled her pants down, and bent over at the waist.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. Pussy wet as a mug.”
As she faced the floor, she pulled off her shirt, letting her titties dangle. Then, as she stepped out of her jeans and shoes, she pulled a condom from her front right pocket. She ripped it open, then turned around.
“Da-yum!” Duke stroked Timbo.
She stepped onto the bed. With lightning speed, she rolled the condom down on his dick and slid down on it. “You slick,” he said, “da’s a’ight.”
He grimaced in pleasure and pain as he pounded up into the pussy; she slammed down at the same time.
Reba gripped his shoulders. But the sensation of rough scabs on his back made her raise her hands up to the back of his head. Normally shaved bald, it was prickly with a week’s worth of hair growth. “Oooh, you know how to fuck,” Reba moaned.
“This some good pussy.” Duke stared up into her eyes. “Say you love me.”
The desperation in his eyes made Reba’s gut cramp. “I love you,” she said as sensuously as a movie star in a love scene would. “I love you, Duke.”
“Say it while I cum,” he said, fucking her harder. And harder. And frantically. Breathing hard, like he’d just run down the block.
Damn, he didn’t even try to let me cum first. But whatever. The sooner this dangerous shit was over with, the better. She could relax and enjoy it when she knew he was healthy.
But the way he was drilling up, he could split steel with that dick. Plus, she was getting dry because she wasn’t that into it. And a dry pussy, hard fucking, and a huge dick created the perfect formula for a broken condom and possible infection with whatever the fuck he might have.
“Duke, wait, let me check the condom,” she said. He pulled out. The whole condom still covered every inch of him.
“Okay.” She spat into her hand then rubbed the spit all up and down the outside of the condom. Then she slid Timbo back into her pussy.
“Oh, baby, I’m ’bout to cum,” he groaned. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He was breathing so hard, he was wheezing. All that smoking.
Reba glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Her heart was pounding, but it was out of fear. The image of her sister Lucille, laying on her deathbed, trembling, sweating, and making unhuman groan noises, flashed through her mind. For a second, Duke’s face even transformed into Lucille’s, her paper-thin skin stretched so tight over protruding cheekbones, it looked like the bone would slice right through.
“Ah!” Reba cried out. Not in pleasure but in terror. She never took risks like this. Didn’t have to, because everything at Babylon was so medically checked and safe. She couldn’t wait to get this over with. She’d carefully slide off the condom, go take a long, hot shower, and never put her life on the line again.
“Oh, fuck!” Duke shouted. He threw his head back.
She noticed his teeth were a dull yellow and his breath smelled like medicine. “Say you love me, girl!”
Reba stared at him. Was any money worth this? She did not love this nigga. She loved what this deal represented.
She saw herself in a black Benz convertible, shopping, taking fancy trips, bein’ the baddest bitch around, and loaded with cash. “I love you,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
“Yeah, love me!” he shouted. “Fuck!” Finally, he trembled with orgasm. “Damn,” Duke smiled, still huffing. “That was the best fuck I eva had. ’Cause we was makin’ love, not fuckin’.”
Reba couldn’t wait to get off this muthafucka. She knew damn well he had said those same words to countless women. Reba pinched the top of the condom around the base of his dick. She started to slide upward.
“Wait,” Duke said, pressing down her thighs. “I love you, Reba Sheba.” He stared tenderly into her eyes.
For a split
second, the idea of a man saying he loved her and looking at her like that, made her want to cry. But she knew this love wasn’t real. She knew this was a business exchange where both of them would be getting what they wanted. Right now all she wanted from Duke was, no viruses, no infections, and no bogus-ass words.
“I can’t tell you,” Duke said, “how good it feel for somebody to give me some love. Not just pussy, but some real love. I ain’t felt that since fo’eva.”
Reba wanted so desperately to feel that, she kissed his forehead. Because his ass was as pathetic as she was. And they were both perpetrating like they were tough. But at the core they were just two sorry-ass fools trying to play each other to get the prize.
After a long moment of pretending this was her husband who adored her for her, she pinched the base of the condom again. Holding tight to keep it in place and not spill sperm around her pussy, she carefully slid up and off but shredded rubber flopped down the sides of Duke’s cum covered dick.
Chapter 78
Knight’s deep voice echoed off the damp, black walls of the tunnel as he spoke to Crew Q. He had hand-picked these fifty Barriors and B’Amazons to execute important tasks during the wedding and The Games, or so they thought. Knight knew Li’l Tut, and these muthafuckas were scheming to steal his secret maneuvers and plans, report them back to his brother and his team of bandits, and dare to think they could plunder the riches that Babylon would accumulate the night of The Games.
Knight could hear his older brother, Prince, urging him to follow one of his rules of power, “Crush your enemies.” Actually Knight was about to let them crush themselves as they attempted to execute their most misguided, knuckle-headed plan that would backfire in the most tragic of ways as Manifest Destiny triumphed.
“Twenty-one days,” Knight said in the dim fluorescent light that flickered from a square panel on the ceiling.
In black scuba suits, Ping and Pong stood at his sides, along with his most trusted B’Amazons, Lee Lee and Dayna. All four of them held rifles. And they needed to know the bogus plan for Crew Q for when they carried out the real deal to whisk the money, Knight, and The Queen far away from Babylon.
“We have zero tolerance for error,” Knight said over the sound of dripping water. Though the air was rank with mold and musk, he breathed calmly and deeply.
After years in a prison cell, he felt perfectly at ease in the confines of this hot, humid chamber, its metal walls glistening with greasy grime and patches of green moss. His face and body felt cool, his black ninja suit dry. But sweat glistened on the tense faces and bare, muscular arms of the troops to whom he spoke.
“Hesitation will get you killed.” Knight knocked on the wall behind him in the twelve by twelve footwide area “Down here, thirty feet below the water’s surface, the Detroit River shows no mercy.”
He stared into the serious, yet scared eyes of the soldiers, especially Antoine’s look-alike brother, Ben. He, like the others, wore fatigues, black boots, and black tank tops.
“So when this door goes up,” Knight said, “it’s game time. Anybody who misses their play will get a permanent time out for life.” Knight looked over the heads of the men and women, into the thick blackness of a dozen more feet of tunnel behind them.
“Everybody hear me?”
They answered with military punctuality and speed, “Yes, sir!”
Knight took a large canvas backpack from Pong. He pulled open a zippered slot. “Remember, this holds your flotation device. Any heat, your enemies on the water will shoot first, ask questions later, after they snatch the cash.” Knight held open the backpack’s large inner bag.
“This waterproof pouch will hold the money. Lose it—put on some cement shoes and don’t try to float. Your goal is to make it the half mile down the river to the boat with the underwater hatch.”
Knight glared into the shifty eyes of that face that looked too much like Antoine to be trusted. “You got that, Ben?”
“Yes, sir!” he boomed back.
“Good.” Knight probed his eyes with a hard gaze. The cat’s only crime was nature’s cruel trick of modeling him after his brother, whose misdirected lust at The Queen was about to get him jacked.
That didn’t make him exempt, from Knight questioning his loyalty. Every man and woman down here right now had some mark against them. That mark could have been a rumor that they were Duke sympathizers, or a glance toward Knight that flashed hostility or game. Perhaps they’d shared phone conversations, e-mails or personal contact with Babylon board members who were contemplating a power coup.
So giving directives to Crew Q was the best way to divert all the Barriors and B’Amazons who were vulnerable to conspiring with competitors, especially Duke. Informants had clued Knight in on his baby brother’s plan for a heist, followed by the rape and plunder of Babylon’s riches. And anybody who helped make it happen would share the wealth, power, and future of Babylon. At least that’s what Duke had promised.
Now, the eagerness in several of the soldiers’ eyes confirmed Knight’s suspicions. They were looking at him but mentally ticking down all the details they would report back to Duke.
“I’m glad I’ve got your attention,” Knight said. “Now, if at any time during that twenty-four-hour period, you get the star signal, you are to report immediately to this tunnel. Not from the outside port, but from the basement inside The Playhouse. Everybody hear me?”
Knight could call this little exercise a test or a diversion or a trick. But he had to do whatever was necessary to make sure Manifest Destiny unfolded with perfect precision.
“One mistake could be your last.” Knight’s words reverberated through his chest. A dull ache was all that remained there now, thanks to the sexual healing powers that he and The Queen had conjured up while making love every morning and night since the board meeting.
Plus, in his mind, he found strength by envisioning that baby boy growing inside the warm, nurturing flesh of The Queen’s womb.
I have the power to heal myself and slip away with my wife and unborn child to a better place.
Knight tapped the metal door wall. “Out in the river,” Knight said, “that current is ruthless. There’s boat traffic too. But here at the edge, you’re safe. Just watch for floating debris; sometimes it’s sharp or toxic.”
Someone let out an annoyed groan.
“So wear your goggles,” Knight said. “And just like we did in the drill over the summer; grab onto the metal handles in the river wall. Hold tight or that current will suck you down to the Rouge Plant and your bones will end up in the metal frame of somebody’s new Ford.”
One of the B’Amazons at the back of the group sucked her teeth and whispered, “Sheeit, this ain’t worth it.”
“Officer Sykes, step forward,” Knight commanded. He had not seen her face.
Crew Q parted like water in the Red Sea. The woman slunk between them. Her muscular brown shoulders slumped; her close cropped head hung shamefully in front of Knight.
He spoke softly, “Get the fuck out.”
The rest of the crew was silent as Lee Lee took her arm.
Pong aimed a small silver remote at the blackness at the rear of the tunnel. Squeaking hinges and the sound of a rising metal gate echoed with spine-chilling screeches.
“Lee Lee, bring me back her discharge papers.” Knight stared hard into the eyes of Crew Q.
They stood still and silent as statues. Everybody knew life after Babylon was hell. Even if you left town. It was the ultimate black list.
“Anyone else?” Knight raised his hand toward the blue light dancing on the thick, humid air now that that the back gate had risen. His laughter echoed in a way that made Crew Q look spooked. “After all, we are standing in a tunnel that led to freedom on the Underground Railroad.”
Ping nodded and said with a chuckle, “Find freedom or get fucked up, or both.”
Knight smiled. “Now’s your moment. Whether you’re looking for a freedom ride or to smuggle your way out
of here, speak now or forever hold”—He tapped the black Glock strapped to his hip—“your piece.”
He took the remote from Pong’s hand. His finger poised over the red button, he said, “Any defectors are welcome to take the water way out.” Knight pointed to the silver square at the metal wall leading to the depths of the Detroit River. He pushed the button. With a deafening squeak, the door began to rise. Water crashed in, flooding the floor.
Several Barriors and B’Amazons jumped to avoid the frothy white water that filled the chamber with a strong fish odor. But Knight remained perfectly still. His waterproof boots rested firmly on the metal floor.
Suddenly his mind was illuminated with a thrilling “Ah-ha moment.”
I have no ache in my chest. No sensation in my heart, except for normal, healthy beating. I can do this!
He was in the zone. And for Knight, the zone meant total concentration and focus on a goal. No distractions. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
With this and everything else, he set a goal and accomplished it. And that’s what he would do the night of his wedding; accomplish his plans of moving on to a better life with his wife and unborn child. “Ben!” he shouted over the loud splashing sounds. “Ready to swim?”
Ben’s huge eyes peered down at the rush of water under the metal door.
“Yyyyyy-eeeehhhh, sssssssiiiirrrr,” Ben stammered without stepping forward.
Knight tossed his head back; his laughter echoed off the wet metal walls. The door slammed down. The only sound was the soft fizz of calming waves and bubbles around their feet. And Knight’s deep laughter.
“Crew Q,” he shouted. “How can I trust you to execute this plan when you’re all standing here quaking like a bunch of pussies?”
Ben squared his shoulders. “Master Knight,” he said. “What if it’s somebody in the basement? Like they followin’ us or somethin’?”
“Stop them in their tracks,” Knight said. “And follow through.” He stared hard into Ben’s pretty-boy face, knowing that he would snitch every detail back to his conniving brother. Who would then tell Reba, who would then tell Duke.
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 43
