Booty Call *69 (18 page)

It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve heard from Tyrone. Jakim and I are hitting it off, though, but nothing is official yet.

The girls and I went out partying last night. I met a few cuties, but they weren’t anything to make a big fuss over. I didn’t get in the house till six this morning.

I’m still in my skirt, blouse and stockings when I wake up with a wicked hangover to the sound of bedposts knocking against my mother’s wall. She’s moaning and calling out Danny’s name. I try to go back to sleep, but hearing them having sex in the next room is keeping me awake. I wonder if the dick is really that good. I get out of bed and go into the bathroom to take a nice hot shower.

I’m in the shower, washing every detail and inch of my body. I let the water cascade off my nipples, down between my legs. I think I hear
movement in the bathroom. I peep from behind the curtain and see Danny standing over the toilet, butt- ass naked, taking a piss. My eyes widen as I gaze down at his dick.
Damn, he’s hung
. I can now understand why my mother was howling so loudly. He continues to pee like I’m not even there. I know he feels me watching him. “You left da bathroom door open,” he nonchalantly states.

“Oh,” I reply.

“It’s cool,” he says. I take a deep breath. I’m in shock, and I’m starting to get aroused. “You all right?” he asks, looking over at me as I continue to peek at him from behind the shower curtain.

“Yeah, I’m cool.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“Nah, it don’t, it really don’t.” God, he has a big dick. I watch him shake his dick and flush the toilet. He goes over to the sink, washes his hands and then starts to brush his teeth. I continue looking at him like I’m not in the shower with the water still running.

“You gonna be in there all day?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” I respond awkwardly. I turn off the shower and step out of the tub, dripping wet. Danny glances over at me and smiles. I reach for my towel. I’m not uncomfortable being naked in front of him. I want him to see me naked. I stare at him as I continue to dry myself off. He just stands there watching me, hard as a rock.

My heart begins to beat rapidly. My pussy is moist and I can feel my nipples hardening. I want some dick. I want him in me, and I want to taste him and feel him in my mouth. I couldn’t care less if he’s dating my mother at this point. All I know is they’re not married; that leaves the door open for plenty of opportunity. And temptation is just burning in me something
terrible. “Where’s my mom?” I ask.

“In da room, sleep.” I continue to look at him as he stands at the sink with his dick in full view. That shit is just hanging, looking big and black. I know he wants the same thing I want; if not, then he would’ve left the bathroom a long time ago. I want him so bad that my pussy is just throbbing with excitement. I slowly continue to dry myself off. I throw one leg up on the toilet and wipe myself from toe to thigh in a sensual motion. He smiles as I tease him by wiping the towel in between my pussy, letting out a soft moan. His smile has turned into a sinister grin.

“What’s all dat about?” I teasingly ask as I look at his dick.

“It likes what it sees.” His dick has to be about nine and a half inches long. “But what’s all that about?” he says looking down at me.

“What? I’m drying myself off. Is there a problem with that?”

“Don’t know a woman to dry herself off like that, all sexy and shit.”

“Well, it’s the way
I
do it. I take my sweet time with whatever I do.”

“Word?”

“Word!” My eyes are focused on his dick. My pussy is getting wetter by the second. I swear I got a river flowing between my legs. It’s either now or never. I take a seat on the toilet and spread my legs, exposing everything. I lean back slightly and start fingering myself.

Danny is hyped. “It’s like that!” he says, all excited and shit.

“If you want it to be,” I say, slut that I am. Danny locks the bathroom door and comes back over to me. He gets down on his knees, buries his face between my legs and starts to eat my pussy. “Mmmm…see, nice and clean for you,” I say to him, playing with his dreads as he eats me out on the toilet.

I start to moan loudly. His tongue action is fierce. He sucks on my
pussy, sticks his tongue in my ass and kisses all in between my thighs. He has to tell me to shut up a couple of times. Afterward, he bends me over the toilet. When he puts his dick in me, it takes everything in my power to not cry out. The dick is so fuckin’ good. SHIT!

He makes me cum quick as hell, but he’s not done until he lets off a roaring nut up in me, gripping my but and making me hit my head against the back of the toilet.

After we’re done, I throw on a towel and duck in my room. Am I feeling guilty about what just happened? Hell no! In fact, I’m looking forward to round two. And it was the way I dreamed it would be—even better. My mother is such a fuckin’ lucky bitch to be getting dick from a man like him on a regular.

Jakim stops by early in the evening. He’s in the mood for some pussy, but I protest; I got mine just this morning, but like all men when they don’t get any pussy, he catches an attitude. He tells me he “got needs,” so I tell him to go and get his needs taken care of somewhere else. He tries to persuade me to give him a blowjob, but that’s a no. My mind is still on Danny and how good that dick was.

On the day before Thanksgiving, I hang out with my girls, Naja and Latish. We do a little shopping on Jamaica Avenue and go to the movies afterward. I get my hair and nails done, since we’re having family and friends over.

My day is going so good, till Detective Briscoe from homicide approaches me. He and his partner have been waiting for me in front of my
house in a black Caprice. I’m carrying three shopping bags filled with gifts and clothes, about to get ready to go out tonight with Naja. But my plans change as soon as he steps to me asking questions.

“Excuse me, are you Shana Banks?” Detective Briscoe asks. He’s about 5’9” and a little stocky, wearing a leather jacket, glasses and a beard.

His partner follows him, stepping out of the car with a cup of coffee in his hand. He’s taller and younger, and he’s also wearing a leather jacket. He’s sporting a goatee and a gold earring in his ear.

“Who wants to know?” I ask.

“I’m Detective Briscoe—Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Rice. We would like to ask you a few questions about the death of Terry Miles.”

“What?” I’m stunned.

“We would like for you to come down to the station with us, Ms. Banks,” Detective Briscoe says.

“Am I under arrest?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then I don’t see any reason for me to roll with y’all.”

“Ms. Banks, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s your choice,” Detective Rice states.

I just stare at the both of them. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and here they are coming to me with this bullshit. I know nothing. I’m not even sure if it’s Tyrone who killed Terry. I sigh and agree to go with them. There’ll be no need for officers to come and break down my front door over some silliness.

They escort me to their car. The ride is quiet to the 103
^rd
precinct.
I sit in the back seat, wondering how soon it will be over.

When we arrive at the precinct, the detectives escort me into a small, grayish bare room with a wooden table and two chairs. They leave me there to sit for about twenty minutes. I’m nervous as hell.

Detectives Briscoe and Rice finally enter the room. “Ms. Banks, I want to ask you a few questions about your boyfriend, Tyrone Sorbs,” Detective Briscoe says, taking a seat in the chair opposite me.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then what is he to you?” says Detective Rice.

“Just a guy I’m fucking,” I bluntly say.

Detective Rice puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and peers at me. “The reason you’re here, Ms. Ba—”

“Damn, would you please stop calling me Ms. Banks! Fuck!”

“Okay,
Shana
, the reason you’re here is that witnesses placed you at the scene on the night Tyrone Sorbs assaulted and nearly killed Terry Miles in a fast food restaurant,” Detective Rice informs me.

“What?”

“Your lover is our prime suspect in this case,” Detective Briscoe says. “Do you know of his whereabouts?”

“I haven’t seen or heard from Tyrone in weeks. He just fucks me, then leaves, fucks me, then leaves.”

They want to know how long we’ve been going out and how long I’ve known him. Who are his friends? Do I know where he hangs out? I’m surprised they don’t want to know how long his dick is, too.

After spending about forty minutes with them, I start to get really agitated and annoyed. “Look, am I gonna be placed under arrest?!” I yell out.

“No,” Detective Rice says.

“Then can I just fuckin’ leave? I don’t know nothin’ about Tyrone. He don’t tell me shit about his life. We just fuck and that’s it!”

Detective Briscoe, becoming annoyed with my attitude, waves his hand and announces, “Let her go!”

Detective Rice looks reluctant to do so; maybe my beauty is the highlight of his day. “Come with me,” he says.

Before I step out the door, Detective Briscoe stands up and says, “Shana, if he contacts you, you call us.” He passes me his card.

How am I supposed to get home?
I see Tyrone’s roommate, Evay, in the hallway, handcuffed to a chair and sitting slumped over, looking like he’s feeling sorry for himself. I turn my head, not wanting him to notice me. I wonder why he’s here.

Detective Rice offers to give me a ride back home. I accept. He tries to rap to me in the car. He has some nerve. They wasted a good portion of my day, and now he thinks I’m gonna give him my phone number. Fuck him!

As soon as I get home I take a hot shower, to get that precinct smell off me. When I get out of the shower, I check the answering machine. Naja left two messages. In the first one, she says that she and Latish are coming over for Thanksgiving. In the second one, she tells me to be ready by nine. We’re going out once again.

When I call Naja back, her boyfriend picks up. God, I hate hearing his voice; he sounds like a little kid. The niggah is twenty-seven and talks like he’s thirteen. When Naja finally comes to the phone, she sounds tired and exhausted.

“Were you having sex?”

“Yeah, I gotta get mine, too. What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Just get over here, girl. This is important.”

“Shana, you can’t tell me over the phone? Shit, I’m in the middle of some good dick here.”

“Then break his dick off in your pussy and bring it with you,” I say.

“Now, see, you’re wrong, bitch. Just give me a half hour. I’ll be there soon.”

“Hurry, girl.”

After hanging up the phone, I throw on my house robe and go into the kitchen to make myself a snack. My mind is on Tyrone and his situation. He told me himself that he had nothing to do with Terry’s death. And I somewhat believed him. But then again, he’s been out of town for a while now. Maybe he’s on the run.

I walk into the living room with a cheese sandwich and a soda, turn on the television and plop down on the sofa. It’s times like these that I feel like getting high—just rolling myself a phat ass L. The house is quiet—a little too quiet. It feels like I’m in one of those horror movies, where the young female is home alone and there’s a killer stalking around town. But there ain’t any serial killers in New York, much less in Hollis, Queens. The only thing out here is gangs, chicken- heads, wannabe thugs, playas and fake-ass bitches.

When Naja finally arrives, I tell her about the two detectives that came to see me. I tell her I was with Tyrone when he beat down Terry. Naja goes crazy, thinking that Tyrone actually killed Terry. Then she asks me why he did it. I tell her it was over money.

“Bitch, why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asks, looking upset.

I have no explanation for her. I guess I was just too scared to tell anyone before now. Naja tells me to leave Tyrone alone from now on, but I can’t do that; I feel that he really needs me…wherever he is. I tell her I’m too in love with him to let him go. She looks at me like I’m crazy. Then she starts asking about Jakim and what’s going on with him. I tell her the truth—about the sex, and how we talked about maybe getting back together someday. I even admit to her that I still love him, too.

The bitch calls me confused. She says I don’t know true love from good dick, and asks me how I could care for that asshole, in light of the Chinky incident.

Naja’s wrong; I do know what true love is, and I know what it feels like to be in love. I tell her that I really
am
in love with both Tyrone and Jakim, and a girl still gotta get her freak on every once in a while. It ain’t like I’m married to either of them. She keeps warning me to stay away from Tyrone and get back with Jakim. But once again I disagree; I don’t feel ready for that yet. And as for that dumb bitch, Chinky, the ho can’t be trusted.