Read Brick (Double Dippin') Online

Authors: Allison Hobbs

Brick (Double Dippin') (14 page)




ow my interest is piqued. My wheels are spinning. I don’t know how I feel about Munch and Blake’s arrangement, but the idea is stirring something inside me. I decide to ask some more questions. “So what does Munch get out of the arrangement? Does he get sloppy seconds after you smash?”

Blake frowns and shakes his head. “Munch don’t care about fucking.”

“While Blake is smashing, I jack off,” Munch volunteers.

Blake nods his head. “See, I told you, man. Munch and I ain’t into any homo behavior. The problem that I have with Munch is that he done went buck wild with his oral actions. Women all over the city are passing his number around. On the weekends, when the clubs let out, bitches be hitting Munch up like crazy. All of ’em wanting they pussies ate before they call it a night. And Munch don’t even make the bitches come to him. He goes out of his way…hooking up with females in the parking lot of the club they just left. One night he gobbled up three pussies out of one car, and four pussies out of another.”

“Umph!” I thought I was twisted, but I ain’t never heard of no shit like this.

“And Munch don’t get nothing out of the deal. He don’t charge the bitches… He don’t even jack his shit off. Just eating one stank
pussy after another. After them hoes cum, they drive off and leave him with a hard dick and no satisfaction.”

Munch is awfully quiet; he’s not defending himself at all. So I feel compelled to ask Munch about his mental status. Once again, I turn and look in the back seat of the car.

“Yo, I ain’t passing judgment on you, bro’,” I say to Munch. “But why you letting hoes take advantage of you like that?”

“Ain’t nobody taking advantage of me. I’m satisfying my oral fixation. Simple as that.”

“Going around eating pussy is crazy, man. You got to be a little slow. You know…half a school bus kind of slow. Are you a lil’ bit retarded?”

“Ain’t nothing slow about me,” Munch says with an attitude.

“Munch is an intelligent mufucka,” Blake pipes in. “But he letting his addiction rule his life. Now he done caught a venereal disease in his mouth.” Blake tosses a blameful look at Munch.

I grimace. Both these niggas are weirdoes.

“I got treated for that. My mouth is clean as the board of health,” Munch brags.

“So what! You gotta be careful where you put your mouth, man.”

Munch rolls his eyes. “Nigga, stop frontin’. Don’t act like you don’t eat pussy.”

“Yeah, I do. Ain’t nothing wrong with giving oral. But not all the time. Man, all I’m saying is that you need to cut back. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Aye. I can do that.”

By the time we get to the strip club, my shit is harder than concrete inside my pants. Here it is, broad daylight outside, yet it’s dimly lit in the strip club, giving it an after midnight kind of vibe. These bitches up in here are running around flaunting naked tits and asses. I ain’t never seen nothing like this before.

I got a strong sex drive. Truth. You can’t bring me in a place like this and expect me to be satisfied with merely looking.

“Why they showing tits and asses, but their pussies is all covered up?” I ask Blake.

“No nudity,” he explains. “Pick the shawty you want to give you a lap dance, and I’ll pay her a lil’ extra to let you rub on her pussy.”

“Man, I don’t wanna rub nothing. I wanna fuck. And not just one stripper. I wanna fuck all of ’em.” My voice comes out louder than I anticipated.

“Whoa, my nigga. You sound crazy.”

“I’m just saying, man…this is like window shopping without no money. It’s real frustrating. I didn’t come out of the crib to get worked up for nothing.”

Blake nodded in understanding. “Some of these chicks will let you pay to play, but not until they finish their shift. They don’t fuck right here inside the club.”

I’m getting very aggravated. My dick is bricked and I can’t use it on none of these bitches. This is fucked up!

A dark-skinned shawty with a nice donk switches past me. “Yo, chocolate ass, come over here and let me wax you,” I blurt, rubbing on my dick. The girl turns her nose up and keeps it moving.

“Relax, man. Don’t be insulting the strippers. I’ma treat you to a lap dance to calm you down.” He beckons a stripper with a cute little butt. “Give my man a dance,” he tells her. “Treat him extra special, aye?”

The stripper smiles and positions herself in my lap. As soon as she starts swiveling around, I immediately ejaculate. But she can’t feel the moisture through my jeans. She keeps on working that ass and my Johnson rises to the occasion, again.

By the time the song is over, I bust twice.

I go to the bathroom and clean up as best I can with paper
towels. When I come out, Munch is getting a lap dance from a white chick and Blake is focused on his cell. Looking down, he’s tapping on the screen and smiling.

I don’t like the way people act nowadays. Everybody’s always fucking with their cell phones. All this text messaging and shit is getting out of control.

“So how’d you like your first experience at the strip club?” Blake asks as he puts his phone inside his pocket.

“It was cool, man. Thanks,” I say as I cut my eye at this chocolate shawty with the extra big ass. I wanna get a dance from her next. I wanna cum on that chocolate ass.

“Me and Munch are about to be out. You staying here or do you want me to drop you off at your crib,” Blake says.

“We just got here!” I’m shocked that Blake is ready to bounce. I’ll stay if he lets me hold some money, but I can’t afford lap dances at ten dollars a pop.

“I know, man, but me and Munch gotta go holla at this chick up in the Northeast.”

“You’re taking Munch with you?” I frown, recalling what he said about Munch and his nasty ways.

“Yeah, man. That’s how we do. We cleared up our misunderstanding. Munch is cool. He went solo for a while and he paid the price. That bull knows I look out for him. He got that habit, but I know how to keep him in check. When Munch fucks with who I fuck with, he ain’t gotta worry about picking up any diseases.”

I nod my head in understanding, but my mind is running a mile a minute. See, I wanna get involved in the freak shit they’re into, but I don’t wanna sound like I’m begging. I could use a nigga like Munch at my crib. But something tells me that Blake isn’t willing to loan Munch out.

I’ma have to figure out a way to lure Munch over to the crib without Blake finding out.






hawty wasn’t anywhere to be found when Brick got back to the hotel. Good! He could tell that she was growing attached to him. He was on the run now, and the only way to travel was solo. Brick was relieved he didn’t have to see the disappointment on her face when he told her it was time to cut the cord.

There were only a few items to scoop up; everything else was stuffed inside the duffle bag. From the bathroom counter, he gathered his razors, shaving cream, toothpaste, deodorant, and other odds and ends. Next he surveyed the bedroom to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind.

On his way out, he spotted a pen and pad that was stamped with the hotel’s logo. Thinking about what to write, he squinted up at the ceiling. He was going to start off with an apology for leaving Anya hanging, but decided to keep the message short and to the point.
The crib is paid for. You can stay here ’til checkout time tomorrow. Take care of yourself. Brick

He tore the sheet of paper off the pad and placed it on top of the remote, which Anya was sure to grab when she returned.

Stirring outside the door told him that shawty was back. Damn! Brick balled up the note and tossed it in the waste bin. He’d have to deliver the news in person.

Anya broke into a surprised smile when she saw Brick. “Hey! I thought you were at work.”

She’d taken off the bandana. Her hair was short-cropped and slicked back with gel. Cute. And her face was even prettier than he’d realized. Shawty shouldn’t have any trouble finding a man. Brick hoped she’d raise her standards and get herself a good man—with some balls. Not another punk-ass, wannabe pimp, like Cash Money.

Feeling guilty, Brick wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yo, I’m outta here. The room is paid for until tomorrow. Checkout time is eleven. Stay outta trouble.” Brick hefted the heavy duffle bag over his shoulder, and crossed the room.

“Why are you leaving? I thought you said I could chill with you for a while.”

“Change of plans.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Brick was instantly annoyed. “I don’t owe you no explanation about nothing. I got problems, and I can’t have you tagging along. You’re a nice girl and everything, but the way I see it, you’re unnecessary baggage.”

“I know you’re on some kind of mission—trying to touch Smash Hitz.” She shook her head. “That’s the major league. Do you really think you can get close to someone of his stature?”

Brick frowned in irritation. “You know too much already. I don’t like people in my business. Got me feeling uneasy.” Brick’s face darkened as he stepped toward her. “Take some advice, lil mama, stop running your mouth. Forget you ever met me.”

“You can trust me, Brick.”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Last night, I was thinking about my problems and from the little that I know about yours…I think we can help each other.”

Brick looked at her like she was crazy. “What can you do for me?”

“I can finance your trip to Miami.”

Brick gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. You’re one step away from the women’s shelter, but you want me to believe you have enough money to get me to Miami?”

“I really can,” Anya argued. “Not right now, but—”

“Not right now is exactly what I thought,” Brick said sarcastically. He gazed at her with disdain. She was desperately grasping at straws. Lying and coming at Brick like he was on some kinda sucka shit.

Brick was actually relieved Anya had let down her guard, showing her true self. He no longer felt sorry for her. With a clear conscience, he could roll out.

“You should call that shelter, and make some arrangements for yourself,” Brick said in a cold tone, and then sauntered toward the door.

“When my mother got killed…” Anya paused.

Brick stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

Anya’s eyes began to water, and her body trembled. “There was a lawsuit. My father was awarded a lot of money. My father. He…he…”

“He what?” Brick said impatiently.

“Started messing with drugs. He blew all the money. Lost everything. Sent me away,” Anya said, talking fast. Brick tried to make sense of her words, but her staccato bursts of information didn’t make sense or add up. From what he gathered, seemed like she was telling him that her pops blew some lawsuit money, and lost everything.

She didn’t have a pot to piss in, so where was she going with this? She damn sure didn’t have enough dough to finance his mission.

Brick gave Anya a long look. It seemed like she was falling apart. Shaking and carrying on…unable to speak in a complete sentence.
Shawty might be missing a screw or two.

“You need to chill out. For real.” He shook his head in disgust. “Why you tryna play me?”

“I wasn’t. I get upset when I think about what happened to my mother.”

Brick wrapped his hand around the doorknob.
I thought she said that she didn’t even remember her mother. Shawty got issues.

Forcing patience into his voice, he said, “Maybe you need to talk it out with a professional. Look, shawty, I’m outta here. And you’re lucky that I’m not kicking you out. The way you acting makes me think twice about leaving you here. Something could spark a bad memory…cause you to black out and start tearing up shit. If you tear up a bunch of shit, the hotel’s gon’ come at me—try to hit me with some vandalism charges. I got enough on my plate; I don’t need any more problems.” Brick rubbed his forehead, wearily.

“I’m not crazy. I don’t go around damaging property. I wouldn’t do anything like that,” she said, tears sliding down her face.

“Aye, cool. Have a good life.” Brick turned the knob, opened the door.

Anya grabbed his arm. “Please don’t leave me. I need you.”

Brick felt all his resolve melting away. There was something in her voice, a pitiful note of panic that resonated within in. Many times in his life, he’d begged someone not to leave him…pleaded not to be kicked out. Starting with his mother. Then his foster parents. Then Misty. And now, Thomasina.

Brick knew all too well the pain and the fear of being all alone in this world.

“Aye. We gon’ ride this out together. But you gotta stop crying. Please.” Brick reached out to wipe her face.

Anya tumbled into his arms.

Comforting her, Brick held her close, his hand unconsciously stroking the middle of her back.

“I need you, Brick. Need you to make love to me.”

He stilled the movement of his hand. “Come on, shawty; it’s not even like that between us.”

“My name is Anya—not shawty.”

“Anya, no offense, but I’m not tryna go there with you. “

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