Booty Call *69 (10 page)

I glance at the clock radio on the dashboard. It’s ten minutes to nine.

“Jakim, do we have to talk about this now?” I ask, becoming anxious for him to leave.

“Well, I do.”

“Niggah, you gettin’ pussy right now?” I bluntly ask. “Be straight wit’ me.”

“Wh-what?” he stammers.

“I said are you fuckin’ other bitches right now?”

“What’s dat got to do wit’ us?” he asks.

“A lot, niggah; you must not be gettin’ any pussy at the moment, because you’re sweatin’ me too fuckin’ much right now. And to be frank, all this pleading you’re doing with a sistah about gettin’ back together…yo, it’s turning me the fuck off!”

Jakim gives me a deadpan look. He remains quiet for a few seconds, and then he says, “It’s like dat?”

“Yeah, it’s like dat!” I say loudly. But then I soften my tone and add, “Jakim, I love you and all, but you gotta chill, baby. Why you rushing things?
Yo, if it’s meant to be, then it will be. But you constantly show up at my door, unannounced and shit, worrying about my fuckin’ business—you need to stop it; I’m starting to get mad about that. And don’t worry about who I’m fuckin’. Do I be in your business every day about who’s panties you’re chewing into? Nah! I ain’t wit’ you like dat. You got all this time to play, and you stressing me like I’m your wife. C’mon, niggah, chill wit’ dat shit. All you’re doing wit’ that pleading and pity shit is making me mad and wanna go out and fuck another niggah!”

“So, you fuckin’ another niggah?” he has the nerve to ask after my little speech.

I roll my eyes and give him a perplexed look, as if to say, ‘Niggah, is you serious?’ But I just sigh. I look at the time again. It’s five minutes to nine.

“I’m sorry, Shana. You’re right,” he says sounding all apologetic and shit. “I’m out.”

I get out of the car, but this niggah has the nerve to follow me to my front door and shit. I’m like, ‘What da fuck!’

“Shana, I ain’t mean to piss you off and shit, but—”

“But what, Jakim?” I shout out of frustration. “You’re doin’ it right now!”

“C’mon, why you screaming on me like I’m some brand new niggah! We’ve been together for two years. And it’s hard for me to picture you being wit’ other niggahs.”

“Well, get used to it,” I sarcastically reply.

Just as I’m about to say something else, I peep Tyrone’s shiny, black BMW creeping from around the corner.
Oh-my-God. Why is this happening to me?
But Tyrone, being the street-smart man that he is, keeps it
moving down the street. I’m a bit relieved. A few moments later, I hear the house phone ringing.

“Jakim, it’s getting late, and I’m tired. I don’t feel like discussing us right now. Can you please leave? I gotta answer the phone,” I say to him nicely.

“You know what? I’m out. Peace, Shana,” he says, throwing his arms up in the air and stepping backwards as he takes one last look at me.

I watch him walk to his car. The house phone has stopped ringing now, but when Jakim gets off my block, the phone begins to ring again. I rush inside and pick up. “Hello?”

“Yeah, he left?” Tyrone asks.

“Yeah, baby, he’s gone.”

“You dressed?”

“Nah, not yet, baby. But give me like twenty minutes, and I’ll be ready,” I kindly tell him.

“Aiight. I’m gonna be parked around the corner just in case Jakim comes back around. And wear something with easy access, ‘cause you know I’m ‘bout to tear dat pussy up tonight, right?”

I smile and let out a slight laugh. “Aiight, baby. Maybe I’ll wear a skirt.” I hang up and throw open my closet door, looking for something sexy and decent to wear. I would have been ready if Jakim hadn’t stopped by.

I can’t find a decent skirt to wear. Fuck it, I’ll just throw on some tight fitting jeans. I call Tyrone and tell him it’s safe to pull up in front of my crib. I strut outside to his whip in my tight Guess jeans, leather, high-heeled boots and a baby soft, leather jacket.

“Hey, baby,” I say greeting him with a kiss on the lips.

“Damn, what happened to the skirt?” he asks.

“Couldn’t find nothin’ to match with it. Maybe you gonna have to take me shopping.”

“Maybe I will,” he says smiling. “You ready to do this?”

“It’s your night,” I tell him, placing my hand on his leg and gently moving it toward his crotch.

“What was dat about wit’ Jakim?”

“The usual—about him missing me and wanting to get back together. But I ain’t hearing dat shit. I’m gettin’ it too good right now. Umph!”

Tyrone chuckles. “Damn, I told Jakim to do him tonight and let you be.”

“Well, he obviously didn’t listen.”

“Shit, dat’s still my man, so I’m trying to help the niggah out and have him do him—make him forget about you. That way, when you break the news to him about us, it won’t be so hard on him.”

“I know, baby,” I say, trying to get Jakim off my mind and think about getting some dick tonight.

“Fuck it,” Tyrone mutters. He puts the car in drive and we slowly pull off.

Take your time, baby,” I whisper to Tyrone as we fuck in the back seat of his BMW. We’re parked by the Verrazano Bridge in Brooklyn. It’s going on one in the morning. I’m sitting down on his lap with his chocolate erection thrusting hard up inside me. I clamp my arms around his neck as he grips my butt tightly.

 

“Damn, you feel so fucking good, Shana.”

There are about eight cars parked nearby. A couple parked right next to us observes us. We don’t give a fuck who’s watching. We continue on with our business.

Tyrone is about to make me cum. My body quivers as I move my hips back and forth. My jeans lay on the back seat beside me, and Tyrone’s pants are around his ankles. His penis completely fills my vagina, expanding it to its fullest capacity. He kisses and licks on my hardened nipples. Then he plays with my butt and thrusts himself even deeper into me. The
windows are all fogged up from our heavy breathing and the cold air outside, causing limited visibility. After a few moments, I feel myself becoming really excited.

“Give it to me, Ty, baby! Give it to me!” I cry out.

He shakes frantically, and I feel him bust off inside me. His neck snaps back, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. He squeezes my buttocks together tightly with his powerful hands. His dick feels even larger now. He raises his thighs with me still on top of him, making me almost hit my head on the car’s roof. Now I feel myself about to cum. I tell him not to stop. He continues to thrust his hard-on deeply into me, making me climax explosively. I scream out and shiver rapidly. I’m out of control. I dig my nails into his back and rest my head over his shoulder. It feels so fucking good. “Damn, you got some good muthafuckin’ pussy, Shana,” he says. We remain close for a few more minutes. I just want his big dick to stay in me for a while.

“I needed that, boo,” I say before kissing his earlobes.

“Jakim never gave it to you that good?”

“Yeah, but you’re better. You be making me go into muthafuckin’ convulsions and shit. What the fuck do you be feeding that thing anyway?”

“Brunettes, blondes, Asians, Blacks…you name it, he’ll eat it.”

“Just don’t stuff yourself too much. I can’t be having it getting too fat on me, ‘cause then the shit’ll no longer be able to fit.”

“Then I’ll just force it in,” he says.

“Please, it can barely fit now,” I say laughing.

I get off the dick and start to put my clothes back on. Tyrone does the same. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and face, climb over the passenger
seat and sit down. Then I roll down the window to let a little air circulate throughout the car; all that fuckin’ made a bitch hot. With his shirt unbuttoned, Tyrone opens the back door and walks around to the driver’s seat. “You ready to go?” he asks.

I nod. He starts up the car and drives it out of the parking spot.

He explains why he didn’t come through after my second fight with Sasha. He tells me he was out of town on business for a few days. He slides his right hand up my leg and rests it between my thighs, controlling the steering wheel with his left. I place my hand over his, letting it rest there.

“You hungry?” he asks me.

I nod, and we soon pull into a twenty-four-hour burger joint near Coney Island. I can’t stop looking at him. I think I’m falling in love. I try to keep my emotions hidden from him, still pretending that it’s only about sex. The more I try, the more I desire him.

I start thinking about Jakim. We’ve been separated for almost two months now. He’s constantly stopping by, bringing flowers and candy, and writing poems for me expressing how much he misses me. And even though he kind of pissed me off tonight, I still admire him and his ways. He really is cute.

Jakim claims he hasn’t been with another woman in weeks. I know that’s bullshit. He said if we get back together, it’s going to be different—no more mistakes like before. He said he’ll always put us first.

But what I have with Tyrone, I really don’t want to give up. He’s rocking my world day after day. Dick has never before been this good to me. I mean, Jakim did his thing, too, but damn, Tyrone works it like he created pussy. I don’t have one bad thing to say about him when it comes to fucking.
That niggah gets a ten
times
ten on my scale.

We head inside the burger joint. I’m starving now. It’s kind of crowded for it to be this late. There’s only one line and one cashier. I’m not too fond of lines, so I take a seat in one of the nearby booths. As Tyrone stands in line, I sit back and admire him. He’s definitely a sexy man. He’s sporting a lot of jewelry, including a diamond ring, a thick, diamond encrusted bracelet and a thin, leather jacket.

I notice a few men on the line clocking me closely. They whisper to one another and look my way. I don’t even smile back—especially since Tyrone is right behind them.

The line soon starts to shorten. Tyrone is up next to order. A group of four young brothers walks into the burger joint. They’re very loud, and I know one of them. I’m very surprised to see him again. I used to talk to him when I was a freshman and he was a junior at Jamaica High School. His name is Terry. We dated for a few months, but I broke up with him because I felt I needed to move on. He tried to get back with me, to no avail. Eventually, he moved down south and got some girl pregnant. We remained friends over the years; sometimes he would hook a sista up and wire me some cash when I depleted my funds. He would call and write, and he even sent me pictures of his newborn baby girl, Riana.

The last I heard from Terry, he had gotten into some beef wit’ his baby mama, and some other shit went down with him, too. I haven’t heard from him since. That was two years ago.

I try to turn my head, hoping that he doesn’t recognize me. He gets on the back of the line with his buddies. I want to get up and change booths, to not be so easily seen. I mean, it’s good to see him again, but I feel that now is not the time to be reminiscing about back in the day…it’s too
late; he already saw me.

“Shana?” Tyrone turns around to see who’s calling my name. Then he looks at me. I give him a faint smile and remain seated.

“Oh, shit, Shana, it
is
you,” Terry says. “What’s up, girl? I ain’t seen you in a minute.” He comes at me with open arms, expecting a hug. I want to ignore him, but I really can’t. His boys continue standing on the line and watch. I glance at Tyrone as he continues waiting to place his order. I’m nervous, but I can’t pinpoint the reason why. Tyrone’s not my man, and Terry is just an old boyfriend from my past who just so happens to be in the burger joint tonight. All of a sudden, Tyrone’s eyes dart straight in his direction.

“Damn, you’re still looking fine as ever, Shana” Terry says.

“Long time, Terry,” I reply, leaving just enough room between him and I.

Before I can even look back over at Tyrone, he’s already standing behind Terry. My eyes widen. Terry turns around, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. He takes a quick step back, bumping into me slightly. His boys, still on line, curiously stare on.

“Tyrone,” Terry murmurs.

“Yeah, muthafucka, it’s me. Where you been, and where the fuck is my money?!” Tyrone shouts.

“Look, I ran into some problems,” he tries to explain.

I’m dumbfounded.
How does Tyrone know Terry?
They went to different schools, and every time I saw Tyrone and Jakim together, I never saw Terry.

Terry looks scared shitless, and his movements make him look so pussy. He glances over at his boys, who are also lost. Then he glances back
at me, and he sees by the look on my face that I’m just as clueless as everyone else in the place.

“Tyrone, look—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tyrone shouts, interrupting Terry’s explanation. He clenches his fists tightly and stares into Terry’s eyes without evening blinking. He’s mad.

“Tyrone—I—man…you see, what had happened was…” Terry didn’t even get to finish his sentence. Tyrone just knocked him across the head with a closed fist, causing Terry to stumble back against the table. Everyone’s attention is now on the situation. Tyrone then pulls out a gun and starts repeatedly hitting Terry over the head with it. I begin to scream as Tyrone continues to pistol-whip him right in front of me.

“Tyrone, what the fuck are you doing?!” I shout. He pays me no mind. Terry’s boys start to rush to his aid, but when Tyrone turns around and points his gun at them, they all freeze.

“What the fuck y’all gonna do—help out your pussy- ass boy?” he shouts, aiming the gun directly at them. Everyone in the place starts to panic; some run out of the restaurant, while others duck behind tables and counters. Terry’s three friends don’t know what to do with themselves as they stare down the barrel of Tyrone’s nine millimeter in terror. I also don’t know what to do, so I just stand there, watching one of my ex-boyfriends get beat down by someone I’m fucking. Terry now lies across the table, beaten and bleeding. He looks helpless.