Booty Call *69 (5 page)

She walks back over to me, leans forward and starts to tongue kiss me wildly, while simultaneously jerking me off. Our lust for one another is intense. I pant loudly, feeling the need to explode inside her. “You ready for this pussy?” she whispers in my ear before nibbling at the lobe.

“I wanna fuck you!” I say with intensity.

“Take it, Jakim!” She presses her body against mine and starts to mount me.

“Shit!” I shout.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I forgot da condoms in the car.”

“Oh, word? Don’t worry about dat, baby. I wanna feel dat dick raw in me anyway.”

“Yeah, but—”

“C’mon, baby, touch me. Feel how wet I am for you,” she says, taking my hand and placing it between her bare thighs. I feel her sweet juices flowing onto my hand. She’s definitely wet. I stick my index finger deep into her pulsating pussy. I begin finger-popping her gently, and she begins to moan. This action goes on for about a minute until I can’t take it anymore. I remove my finger from inside her and grip my hard dick in my hand. Latish slowly moves her lower half onto my erection, straddling me on the couch. H-Town’s
Knockin’ Da Boots
plays faintly in the background. I grip her hips as she rocks back and forth against my lap. She throws her arms around me and cries out in ecstasy.

Sweat profusely escapes from our pores as we touch, rub, grind and fuck the shit out of each other. We assume position after position, from missionary to straight up doggystyle until we just can’t fuck anymore. We lay motionless on her living room floor. My body feels numb and exhausted. But this was worth it. I’ve definitely released some stress with Latish tonight. I breathe heavily and stare up at the ceiling, lying nude with her next to me. “You okay, baby?” she asks, her hand gently moving up and down my chest, tickling me a little.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply. We continue to lie around her apartment until she gets up to use the bathroom. I watch that ass jiggle as she sashays down the hallway. I’m feeling a little excitement down below again. But
enough is enough; she’s about to kill a niggah with all the fuckin’ we’re doing.

I look at the time. It’s twenty minutes past nine, time for me to go. I get up off the floor and pick up my clothing, which is scattered all around the room. I start to get dressed. Latish, still naked, comes out of the bathroom. “You leaving me already?”

“Yeah, I got things to do,” I say.

“I want you to spend the night with me.”

“Next time, love.”

She sucks her teeth, plops her naked ass on the couch and crosses her legs. “You seen the remote?”

“Nah. You ain’t gonna get dressed?”

“For what? It’s my crib. Niggah, I walk around naked all day,” she informs me. I shrug my shoulders and throw on my Timberlands. After putting on my last piece of clothing, I glance over at Latish. She’s still lounging naked on her couch, now channel- surfing with the remote.

“Yo, I’m out,” I tell her.

“When I’m gonna see you again?” she asks.

“Whenever—you got my number.” She sucks her teeth again and follows me to the door. “You ain’t gonna throw a robe on at least?” I add.

“For what, Jakim? My body is my treasure. I go outside like this all the time. And most of my neighbors are niggahs; they ain’t complaining.”

I laugh. “You be buggin.”

“Whatever, niggah. I wanna see you again.”

We stand outside in her doorway under a canopy of stars, with Latish still in her birthday suit. She throws her arms around me and gives me a passionate kiss. I grip her firm apple bottom and squeeze it like I’m
squeezing the juice from a piece of fruit. It’s hard to let her go; being up against her makes me want to set it off again, but it’s getting late and I have to go. I strut back to my car a very happy and sexually satisfied man.

I get in my car, turn the ignition and let my Maxima idle in front of Latish’s crib for a few moments. It’s funny; no sooner than Latish is out of my sight, thoughts of Shana creep back into my mind. After all of that freaky, bumping and grinding, hot, sweaty sex with Latish, I want to give Shana a call. I know I have to beat the infatuation I have for my ex-girlfriend, but it’s hard. I want to give her a booty call, too, but I know it’s not happening any time soon. I want to win back her love and affection, but she’s being stubborn and putting a brick wall between us.

I pull off and decide not to call Shana. I’ll call Tyrone or Evay instead and see what’s up for tonight; when I’m alone, my failed relationship with Shana be fuckin’ wit’ me. But when I’m amongst company, I’m good.

During my drive home, I break down and call Shana anyway. Her aunt picks up.

“Hello, is Shana there?”

“No, sweetie, she’s not,” her aunt replies. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s Jakim.”

“Hey, hon, I haven’t seen you around in a while. You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Can you tell Shana that I called?”

“No problem, sweetie.”

Now, I should just hang up and let it be, but my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask, “By the way, do you know where she might have gone?”

“She went out on a date wit’ some niggah.”

I’m speechless. The only thing I can say is, “Oh, aiight…just tell her I called.” I hang up, feeling my heart in my stomach as envy and resentment spread throughout my body.
Why did I ask, when I didn’t want to know the answer?
I say to myself.

Now frustrated, I decide not to hang out with Tyrone and Evay. I do a quick U-turn and make a beeline back to Latish’s place.
Fuck it. Shana wanna be out all night, fuckin’ this niggah and that niggah, then I’m gonna be doing me with no regrets
. I keep telling the bitch I’ve changed, but she’s not trying to hear what I have to say. I know I fucked up when I cheated on her. But she can’t let bygones be bygones, and now she’s on some ho shit—I assume. I want her to give us a second chance, but the dumb bitch won’t let my mistake be water under the bridge.

I lay naked on Tyrone’s bed as he gets dressed. He’s letting me stay the night in his apartment. It’s two o’ clock in the morning, and he just got a page from one of his workers. Now he’s heading out the door to take care of some business. This is the sixth time we’ve been together intimately. The dick is just too irresistible and too fucking good for me to say no to. For hours we were going at it non-stop, until he received that page. It’s business first, then sex. I’m catching feelings for him, and I know he feels the same way about me. I sometimes think about Jakim and what we had. I still love him, which is why being with Tyrone is so hard for me.

I know Tyrone is feeling guilty, too. He keeps telling me to tell Jakim about us. “Y’all not together, so tell him what the deal is between us,” he’s constantly saying. But I refuse, thinking that maybe one day Jakim and I can rekindle our relationship. I know someday we could probably get married and have kids. He just might be the marrying type.

Tyrone is a straight-up street thug, a roughneck brother who did a
few years on Riker’s Island for a gun charge, drugs and assault. Yet and still, there’s something about him that just drives me crazy.

I watch Tyrone walk out the door. He leaves me a hundred dollars and tells me to order something if I get hungry. I go in the bathroom and throw on a robe. I return to the bedroom, flip on the television and relax. I’m kind of upset that he didn’t complete his business with me, but I blow it off; I know he’s coming back soon to finish fucking me. When he doesn’t, I drift off to sleep, horny and frustrated.

I return home the next afternoon to find Jakim parked in front of my crib, awaiting my arrival. It’s a good thing I took the bus home.

“Shana, what up?” he hollers through the car window.

“Nothing. What up with you?”

“I’m sayin’, though, I came through twice last night looking for you and you weren’t even home. You fucking some other niggah?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. I’m gonna fuck who I wanna fuck. I ain’t your property! I don’t see your name anywhere on me!” I yell.

“Why you always gotta catch an attitude with me when I ask you a question?”

“Because you be asking stupid questions.”

He just stares at me. I don’t want to argue with him today. I start to wonder if he waited out here for me all night. He’s either really stupid or he’s really in love with me.

“Let me take you out to get something to eat,” he says.

“I already ate.”

“So, let’s go for a ride.”

“I’m too tired.”

“Damn, so what the fuck do you wanna do?”

“Right now? Get the fuck away from you,” I rudely respond. I walk away from him, storm into the house and slam the door behind me. Seeing him right now is not an option for me. I peep out the window. He’s still standing there, sulking and looking miserable. I remember back in the day when we were together, if I would have played him like this, he would’ve cursed me out and tried to slap the shit out of me; it would have been seen as totally disrespecting him. Now he’s acting like a straight-up pussy. Damn, is his heart really that broken from our break-up? He’s the one who felt we should be separated for a while because he wanted to fuck with other bitches.

My moms comes into the living room. “Jakim came by for you last night,” she says.

“I know.”

She sees me staring at him through the window. She gives me an unpleasant look and goes back to her business. Then my Aunt Tina comes out in her robe. “Jakim came looking for you last night.”

“I know!” I spit.

“Well, damn…you need to give the niggah some pussy. You can’t be letting your man starve out there. He’ll go eat somewhere else,” she warns.

“He’s not my man; he’s my ex—get it straight!”

“
You
get it straight, bitch! You keep teasing his head like that and he’ll bite you and go find comfort somewhere else,” she continues.

What the fuck does she know? Aunt Tina can’t hold down a man her damn self. And she can’t keep her legs closed long enough to be in my business. She got dumped three times this year.

I walk to my room, peel off my clothing and then go and take a long, hot shower. Tyrone calls me before nightfall. He wants to see me.
Damn, I just came from his crib. He apologizes for skipping out on me earlier. He says he had to take care of some business. I tell him that I’ll see him tomorrow. I’m tired and not leaving this house any time soon. I need some rest. He’s pretty upset. He wants to finish what we started earlier. It’s tempting, but I tell him no and that’s that.

Sasha gives me a call around ten. She tells me that she just found out about a party tonight, and she wants me to come along so she won’t have to roll alone with Cell and his friend. I tell her no. I don’t go out with muthafuckas I’ve never seen or met before. Next thing you know, you’re going out with a big, black, nasty, toothless muthafucka who thinks he’s all that and wants to stay trying to get up in your drawers. She begs and pleads, and says that his friend is real cute. But if a bitch is that desperate, she’ll say anything about the next guy just to have you tagging along.

Cell is the same bouncer who helped us get in the club a few weeks back after Sasha offered him that favor later on. And she did grant it, she tells me. They went out to his truck in the parking lot, and she sucked him off real good. She said for a big dude, his dick didn’t match the rest of his body. He was feeling her so much afterwards, that he passed her his home and cell-phone numbers and begged her to call. She gave him her number as well, and she actually did call him.

“Why?” I ask.

“That niggah might have a small dick, but his tongue is wicked!” That’s her. I personally like for a man to come with the full package.

After listening to her beg, plead and say that she’ll owe me, I give in. She says she’ll be at my crib in an hour. She’s lucky she’s my girl.

I go over to my closet and look for something to wear—a closet full of clothes, and I can’t decide what to put on tonight. I throw on my animal
print mini skirt, black stockings, a black, low-cut, keyhole-neck top with flare sleeves and my ankle strapped black pumps. As usual, I’m careful to apply just the right make-up and the right amount of perfume; you never know whether or not you’ll meet a cutie at the club. I look at myself in the mirror. I’m looking too fine.

About an hour later, I hear a horn blowing outside. It has to be Sasha. I walk to the door, open it and see her standing outside. A white Escalade is parked in front of my house. I see two silhouettes in the truck. “You ready?” she asks.

“I see you came early this time,” I say looking at her outfit. She’s wearing a very tight, blue, strapless stretch Ottoman dress and blue pumps.

I pull her into the house, and the first thing I say is, “Got-damn, girl. Where did you get that stink, tight, hoochie mama dress? You look like a fucking tramp.”

“Yeah, but Cell thinks it’s cool. G-i-r-r-l, he got money. He took me out to his crib in Long Island. That muthafucka got a four-bedroom house with a swimming pool in the back.”

“You fucked him already, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, he got a little piece of it.”

“Damn….”

Before I’m able to say anything else, she hits me with, “You can’t say shit, Shana. I’m not the one fucking my ex’s best friend. You wrong, bitch!”

“I’m wrong? I’m looking out for
you
tonight. Don’t forget that,” I add. “I don’t know why….”

“His friend was asking about you. He wants to meet you and shit.”

“What? I don’t even know his friend…Sasha you run your mouth
too fucking much,” I tell her.

“I ain’t said shit about you to him; Cell was bragging his mouth off about you. Then he put me on the spot, asking me to hook his friend up with you.”

“Is he cute?” I ask with much concern.

“He’s cool,” she says, sounding not so assuring.