She walked into the kitchen and robotically began preparing a meal. Juicy had never thought any white man was cute. Ever. A man, to her, was black and hard...although white men sometimes paid more attention to her then black men did. Black men were so busy trying to get with the high yella girls that they couldn't always appreciate full lips, thick hips and thighs...She wondered if Troy was a white man that appreciated full hips and th-
What in the world was she thinking?! Juicy had never hated people over their color...she didn't really care one way or the other. But after hearing it all of her life she had a tendency to gravitate away from whites.
She glanced over into the living room to see if the clanging of the pan had awakened Troy. It hadn't. He was out cold. Troy...she wasn't going to think of him as Mr. Cracker ever again.
Juicy had some frozen turkey burger patties so she tossed four of them onto her grill pan and sliced up some onions, tomatoes and lettuce. Then she opened a can of baked beans, which she doctored up with a bit of brown sugar, cinnamon, and bacon fat.
When the meal was prepared Juicy ate hungrily then carefully prepared Troy's plate and set it on the cocktail table besides the couch along with a soda pop. She retrieved the blanket from the bag of looted hospital supplies and put it at Troy's feet. Although the idea was in the back of her mind, she refused to linger and watch him sleep. Tomorrow he'd be gone...and that was that.
It was late when Juicy, fully clothed, climbed into her bed. This entire nightmare was beginning to seem like a distant memory. She was suddenly so tired. She was asleep before she could complete that thought.
CHAPTER 4
Juicy's eyes popped open. Something was wrong. Troy was kneeling beside her bed bare inches from her face. Juicy jerked up to a sitting position and yelled. Troy's face had lost its color and a second later he reflexively yelled too.
"What the--? Troy what are you doing?" She had pulled her covers up to her neck and her eyes were wide as she stared at him.
"I—you were so quiet. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." She noticed that he was holding the little mirror from the bathroom in his hand.
She stared at it for a few moments. "You were holding a mirror up to my mouth?"
Troy blushed. "I—yeah..." Juicy couldn't help it, she laughed. She couldn't stop and before long her eyes were streaming tears.
Troy stood up. "I thought you'd be mad because I was in your bedroom."
Juicy tried her best to straighten up. "I'm glad that you cared enough to check on me."
He put the mirror on her neat dresser. "You weren't waking up on your own."
She glanced at the clock. It was just after two. She couldn't seem to get her bearings. Was it am? pm?
Reading her thoughts Troy answered. "It's the afternoon."
"What?!" She scrambled out of bed. "Why'd you let me sleep so late?"
"You probably needed it."
Juicy slipped on her house shoes. "How long have you been awake?"
"Since about seven-"
Juicy straightened her doo rag. Her hand froze in mid tug. "Oh my goodness. I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long."
"It's okay." He shrugged.
"Did you find the food I left for you?"
Troy smiled. "Oh yeah. I ate that. Thank you. I hope you don't mind but I showered and made breakfast."
"No, of course not." Her bedroom was beginning to feel a bit too closed so she went out into the living room where Troy was happy to follow.
"How do you feel this morning?"
She shrugged. "It's hard to say. I woke up so fast that I feel a little jittery."
"Ohhh." Was his response. "Well come on and sit down. I made enough breakfast for you. I put it in the microwave."
"You made me breakfast?"
"Yeah. Sit down." He walked past her to the neat galley kitchen. Juicy watched him moving around comfortably. His longish hair was still a bit damp from his shower and he was barefoot. She liked how at home he looked.
"I hope you like pancakes. I saw that you had syrup." He pressed some buttons on the microwave and then opened the fridge. "Your milk was still good." He glanced at her. "You do drink milk don't you?"
She was so preoccupied by the way his legs looked in his jeans that she missed his question. With a blush she replayed his last words.
"Milk...yes, I love it."
He poured two glasses and placed them on the table in front of her. Then he went back to the microwave. Juicy didn't stop her eyes from admiring his butt. He had enough...
He returned with a plate piled high with pancakes and bacon. Wow! They were picture perfect.
"You made these? From scratch?" Because she knew that she didn't have any pancake mix in the house.
Troy grabbed two plates and some silverware and the syrup while trying to hide his pleased smile. "Well I know a thing or two about a thing or two."
He sat down opposite her and before she could serve herself he placed pancakes and bacon on her plate.
No man had ever served her like that before. After smothering them with extra syrup, she took a big bite of the pancakes...and WOW! They were the best she'd ever had! And that was saying a lot because Juicy liked to eat!
"What is in this...? Banana?" But she didn't have any bananas.
Troy was nodding. "You had a box of instant banana pudding in your pantry. That's the secret ingredient--not so secret anymore, I guess."
"Pudding?" She savored another bite of pancake. "I would have never thought..."
There wasn't one raw spot on the bacon, nor was it burnt; it was just right. Juicy peeked at him.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Troy looked suddenly grim. "Why am I living on the streets?"
Juicy nodded. Troy was crazy in some ways...but really, no more than anybody else that she knew.
"It's like a process, Juice. Not one thing puts you out on the streets." Troy slid a forkful of pancakes slowly through the syrup pooled on his plate. "For me it began when I lived in my parent's house. To make a long story short, I was diagnosed as bipolar. But even before that I already had plenty of problems. I have seizures. I also have very bad migraines and tics.” He peeked at her. “I guess I’m a mess. The medicine didn’t help; made me into a zombie with migraines and tics."
Troy dropped his fork and nibbled on bacon. Juicy watched him curiously.
"Honestly, Juice, I'd rather have all my other problems then be a drooling zombie. So I stopped taking them; cold turkey—which is a big no no in the mental health world. Afterwards, my symptoms became worse than ever. It's like being on those heavy narcotics for all those months messed up something inside of me. I started having seizures more often and the headaches were worse than ever before." Troy's lower lip twitched and he self-consciously covered his chin with his hand.
"My p-p-parents insisted that I get back on the m-m-medication. But you can't understand how horrible it is to be someone else...to know that your f-f-eelings, and your thoughts are all being filtered through drugs. And guess what?! The entire world is okay with that, Juice! Your p-parents are happy that you are someone else!" He looked into her eyes as if he were pleading for her to understand.
Juicy nodded. "I do understand. It has to suck to be something other then what you are."
Satisfied with her response Troy continued. "So I left home. Don't get me wrong. My parents are good people. They really are. I'm not schizophrenic, though. I don't hear voices. I do NOT need to be on hardcore narcotics like lithium. But those doctors' had them convinced that I was a danger to myself...and just all kinds of crap! I had to leave home."
Troy's left eye twitched along with his lip and Juicy nervously looked elsewhere. It was time to change the subject, but he continued to talk.
"You'd be surprised at how distrustful employers are just because someone has a hand tremor or a facial tic, not to mention just blacking out for no reason. It's hard to get a job even at a fast food joint. I tried telemarketing but there were times that I'd start stuttering then out the door I'd be."
"I haven't heard you stutter." Juicy replied, trying to think of something positive to say. Troy picked up his plate and scraped the uneaten portion into the trash.
"A lot of-a lot of the-the-" He blew out a frustrated breath and stared at the trash. He took a deep breath. "A lot of the symptoms that I used to exhibit have faded over the years."
A lot, but not all, Juicy thought.
He returned to his seat at the table. "I stutter, but only when I’m stressed, same with the tics." Troy's lip curled up in a slight smile. "The seizures aren’t that bad, really. I just get a little confused after, and then I start saying strange things."
Juicy didn't know what to say. Her pancakes had grown cold and she didn't have much of an appetite anymore.
"So that's why you're on the streets?" Juicy rose to dump her food into the trash.
"Not really." She turned to look at him curiously.
"Well, I get a social security check once a month and I can stay in a residential care home. It's paid for by the state. They give you your own place and a home health care aid comes by to check on you at regular intervals." Troy frowned and began drumming his fingers on the table. "But they'll make me take medication...I'd rather be on the streets." Troy shrugged.
Juicy was still holding her plate as she watched him. "Social Security isn't enough to pay for an apartment-?"
"It's enough." Even if he didn’t want the residential care he knew that he could get low cost housing, he knew this because he had already fallen into that trap once before.
Juicy's mouth hung open. "Ooookay. Then why are you on the streets?"
Troy stood up. "Because, THIS," and he spread his arms to indicate her room, her home, her environment. "...makes me nervous. I can't live with all of these...CHAINS!"
A white lather had collected at the corner of Troy's mouth. His normally grey eyes were dark and intense.
Juicy nervously dumped the entire plate, including the silverware, into the garbage.
"Hey, Troy...you should calm down."
Troy inhaled and his shoulders slumped. "You don't have to worry about me, Juice. I would never hurt you."
She chuckled nervously. "I wasn't worried about that." Although that's exactly what she had been worried about. Troy made a humming noise then turned and walked into the living room.
"I gotta go."
He sat down on the couch and began pulling on filthy tube socks. Juicy's guilt flared. He didn't even have clean socks. She had a bag of tube socks. Tube socks were her preference when she had to stand on her feet for hours on end doing hair.
She sat down on the couch next to Troy.
"Throw those filthy socks away. I got a bag of tube socks—never worn. As a matter of fact, I'll wash your clothes. It won't take long. I promise."
Juicy got up with Troy staring after her. She went into her room and rummaged through one of her drawers for the unopened bag of socks. When she turned around Troy was standing behind her.
"Ahhh!" She screamed and almost dropped the socks.
Troy jumped too.
"You know," he finally said. "We make each other kinda nervous. I think I just want to go."
"Well take these socks." He nodded and took the socks. Then he went back out to the living room to put them on.
Juicy rummaged through another drawer until she came up with a bundle of bills. She needed to have spare cash around for when her clients came in needing change. She counted up fifty dollars. 'Is that all your life is worth, Juicy?' she asked herself. She added to that another fifty.
Troy was tossing the old socks into the trash. She thrust the folded bills at him and hoped that he wouldn't count them.
Troy almost took it before he realized that the folded bills were fairly large.
"Man, Juice. Are you crazy? I just thought that you'd give me two or three bucks because of the bus fare. I'm not going to take all of that."
"Troy, please take this money. It's the only way that I know where I can show my appreciation."
Troy shoved his hands into his pocket and looked around uncomfortably. "Juicy. I have to ask you a question."
His sudden nervousness made her apprehensive.
"What's wrong?"
"Are you...a prostitute?"
She gasped, and then she half laughed. "What?!"
"Well, are you?" Troy didn't find any humor in the question.
"No!" She crossed her arms protectively in front of her. She felt like she owed him...but not that!
"Are you a drug dealer then?"
Now she was getting offended. "Of course not. Do you think all black people are drug dealers and prostitutes?"
He shook his head. "But I think people that don't have a job and who have wads of money to give away might."
"What? I have a job."
"Well...you've been in a coma for three days. I understand that you don't have any people. But you didn't make any calls to anybody not even a boss-"
"Oh..." She released a tense breath. She wasn't mad anymore understanding where he was coming from. "Sweetheart, I am my own boss. I do hair for a living here in my backroom. I make a good living at it, too. So you need to take this money. Troy, I can make close to a thousand dollars in a day doing hair." If she put her mind to it she could do that or more. But in actuality she just didn't have enough regular clients to count on for steady money in that amount.
"Jeeeez! Are you serious?" His eyes were like huge saucers. "Hell, Juice, I need to become a hairdresser. You need an assistant?!" He joked.
Juicy relaxed. "What I need is a small business loan, so that I can open my own shop. Will you take this money please? It's only a C-note."
Troy reached out and took the money. He counted the bills and placed all but five singles onto the table. Before she could protest he walked past her.
Juicy didn't want him to go. Strange...he scared her sometimes, but she didn't want him to leave. She trailed behind him and he looked at her over his shoulder with his hand poised over the door knob.
"Are you going to be okay, Juice?"
"Yeah." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm going to be alright." She responded boldly. "You go on ahead. I don't want to make you nervous."
Troy opened the door then paused. He closed it.
"There is one favor that you can do for me."
Juicy tried to hide her pleasure. "Sure, anything, Troy."
"Well, since you do hair, I could really use a haircut."
"You want me to cut your hair? Sure. Did you want a perm or maybe highlights-?"
He was shaking his head. "Just a hair cut."
Juicy circled him slowly, studying his hair to see the style that his head was crying for. She reached out and fluffed certain areas with her fingers, other areas she swept back, then forward. It was still a bit damp from his shower and she recognized the tropical smell of her shampoo on him.
"Come on." She indicated for him to follow her into her 'business' room. She had a rolling barber’s chair there. There was another television and some comfortable seating and piles of hair magazines. Beside the chair was a table that contained, what Troy would consider, devices of torture! The room had a smell that he found both foreign and comforting.
"Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back."
Troy picked up and examined strange metal combs and wands. He leafed through some of the magazines sometimes in disbelief at the more outlandish styles. Then he reclined in the barber's chair riding it first up then down.
He straightened when he heard Juicy return. She had freshened up, brushed her teeth and fixed up her dreds. Troy noted that she was wearing khaki capris and a rhinestone studded shirt that hugged her large body in a sexy way. She was still wearing her doo rag, but it now seemed somehow decorative.
Juicy turned on the radio and seemed to fall perfectly into a professional persona. She hummed softy and picked up a cape which she draped around his shoulders. With a delicate touch that surprised him, Juicy fastened the cape snuggly around his neck. Troy tried to ignore the sight of her rounded breast just at his eye level.
He hadn't really wanted a haircut. He trimmed his own hair when he got the chance. It wasn't great looking but at least it kept it out of his eyes. But it was the tone of Juicy's voice that had given him pause. He'd been watching out for her for days and it was just hard to cut it off. She hadn't wanted him to go either. That was clear. Maybe she was lonely sometimes, too.
She spritzed his hair from a water bottle as she walked around the chair instead of swiveling it. Every time her breast came into eyesight Troy clenched his hand slightly. She had nice breasts. The thin material showed a slight blue tint of her bra beneath. There was even a bit of nipple impression visible.
"You've been cutting your own hair, haven't you?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah."
Her hands ran through his hair, slightly grazing his scalp. Troy shuddered involuntarily. God, what was she doing to him...?
She used a narrow tooth comb to gently smooth out his hair. It felt wonderful.
Juicy continued humming then the first snip. Lost in her work she didn't realize that his breathing was shallow and labored and that his eyes were glued to the sight of her breasts.
She hadn't had very much experience with white men's hairstyles. She was happy for the practice. She reached down to lightly tilt his chin upward and noticed two red spots on each of his cheeks. What in the hell was up with that?
Stooping down before him, Juicy dragged down several longish locks of his hair by his temples, paying particular attention to keeping them even.
She took considerable care trimming them with her little scissors. When she looked at Troy again, she caught where his eyes were looking; her breasts. Quickly he met her eyes with an embarrassed curve of his lips.
She just rolled her eyes; typical man. A pair of boobs or a big ass and they lose their ability to think. She moved behind his chair and concentrated on layering the rest of his hair. This way, when it grew out it would still look nice.
Troy sighed softly as Juicy smoothed the hair down by his temples. From her spot above him she could see that his eyes were closed and he was enjoying the haircut. This was the type of client that Juicy loved to have. She decided to give his head a good scratching with her nails. Men loved that shit just as much as dogs did.
She watched him as she lightly scraped his scalp with her nails. He shuddered and his breath came out in a surprised rush. Troy lowered his hand into his lap but not before Juicy clearly saw what his hands had tried to conceal in his lap; a very prominent bulge.
Whoaaaa....Juicy's hand paused in mid scratch and Troy quickly opened his eyes and glanced up at her, embarrassed.
"Uhm...I'm sorry, Juice. It's been a long time since anyone's touched me." Juicy couldn't say one word. That confession was unexpected and out of the blue. That had to have been the saddest thing she'd ever heard. Well, no because who had touched her recently? There hadn't been any good touches for her, either, other than Troy's kind arms carrying her to the hospital and his soothing embrace.
Saddened by both of their predicaments, she let her fingers trail down the sides of his face and over his newly trimmed sideburns. Still standing behind him, Juicy tilted his head further back.
Holding his breath, Troy watched her expectantly; hopefully.
Juicy lowered her own head until their foreheads met. Troy's hand came up and traced Juicy's forearm, then further up until they were locked behind her head.
She felt goose pimples rise suddenly across her skin. He pulled her head down to his lips and he kissed her nose and her eyelids and when her lips were poised over his he swiveled in his chair until they were face to face.
"I'm going to kiss you, Juicy." He whispered.
She didn't breathe. But she didn't pull away either. Troy's lips touched hers.
It was like being kissed for the very first time, or at least the way a first kiss is supposed to be. It was the sweetest kiss that she had ever experienced.
Juicy could feel her heart pumping like mad in her chest. This was crazy. What was she doing?! When she was about to pull away, Troy cupped her face in his hands and his kisses became suddenly sensual. Parting his lips he explored her mouth capturing her voluptuous lips between his own.
Troy tugged her bodily until she fell into his lap. Had she ever sat in any man's lap before? Dear Lord, what was she doing?!
Troy's hands now gripped her waist but he never broke the kiss.
What had started out as so sweet was now transformed into something that caused Juicy's limbs to tingle with desire. Electrical jolts seemed to shoot through her belly only to settle between her thighs where she felt a warm heat rapidly building.
Juicy felt her hand run up Troy's chest and into his hair at the nape of his neck where it was still longish. She had given up on trying to get away from him. And now she recognized the way her body accepted his kiss and the way her nipples tightened when he gripped her as if she were disconnected from herself and watching these events from a distant place.
Troy's tongue luxuriated in the taste of her lips...Juicy, she was. Her lips were succulent. Troy moved his hand up to cup her breast. This was heaven, kissing her and touching her breast. He could stay in this chair with this woman sitting on his lap, kissing her and stroking her breast forever.
And forever it did seem. Juicy was floating somewhere between heaven and earth. When her lips tingled and began to grow numb she finally pulled back. Troy's eyes were hooded and his lips were swollen but he looked as if he could go for another hour of kissing. His hand still held her breast.
Somehow it felt so decadent that he touched her there when they weren't kissing. Seeming to read her thoughts he looked at her beautifully rounded breast. Troy reached up and boldly slid the bra strap down over her shoulders. His hands then glided beneath her shirt and up to the cups of her bra. Using his fingertips he drew them down until her breasts were released but her shirt was still on. Juicy wiggled her arms out of the straps of her bra so that she would not be tangled in the shirt. Troy helped her and when her arms were released instead of exploring her beneath the shirt, he explored with fingers over the thin material. The sight of her chocolate nipples visible through the fabric caused his mouth to open and before he knew it he was kissing one nipple through the shirt, drawing it into his mouth, saturating the thin cotton material. Instantly Troy felt his erection spike harder and it made him suckle harder, clutch her closer.
Groaning Juicy rocked her hips against the stiff cock pressing against her bottom—just a few bits of cloth away from being inside of her. With enthusiasm he rocked upward, meeting her halfway. The idea of what they were almost doing brought her over! Just the thought and she was climaxing and crying out in surprise.
Troy looked at her with wild, frantic eyes. He came to his feet briefly still holding her close and collapsed back onto the end of the barber’s chair with Juicy's legs now straddling his lap. Wildly he began to pump his hips against her as if he were actually entering her. Crying out in pleasure, Juicy rapidly rotated her own hips until she was grinding herself against his hardness, rolling her hips in rhythm with his movements. He was so hard and so big that each time she pressed her core against him she felt deliciously pulverized.
Troy threw his head back and yelled out her name, letting it drag out impossibly long as his own pleasure erupted. Together they rubbed and climaxed until finally they hung onto each other panting, sweating, and satisfied.
Juicy abruptly untangled herself from him and stood up on rubbery legs. Anxiously she looked around but her eyes finally settled on the sight of him sprawled out and panting on the barber’s chair, watching her with hooded, bedroom eyes.
Troy stood up and placed his hands on her arms, rubbing them lightly.
"There's a million things that either of us could say right now. Juicy, just don't say anything. Okay? Because I don't want this second ruined. This is the most perfect moment of my life and I want to remember it just like this."
Juicy lightly bit her lip and watched him.
Troy glanced down and started kicking off his shoes. "I'm going to take you up on your offer to wash these clothes." He pulled off his shirt at the same time that he hopped up and down on one leg and pulled off socks. With no sense of embarrassment, Troy unfastened his pants and pulled them off until he stood there completely naked.
Juicy’s intent was to keep her eyes above his waist but just the one quick glimpse of his nudity made her look twice. His length; the thickness was beautiful.
He held the pile of clothes in his hands. "I'll wash them myself if you tell me where the washing machine is."
He was so cute with the beginnings of his stylish hair cut, now rumpled, and the glow of good sex on his face.
"It's in the basement." She mumbled. Juicy scooped the clothes from his arms and hurried out of the room. "I'll take them down." She called over her shoulder. She slipped on flip flops and hurried around for her little container of detergent and change for the machine.
She could feel Troy's eyes on her and it had a strange effect on the butterflies in her tummy...they felt suddenly like bats!
"Juicy, fix your bra before you go out." He called just before she shut the door soundly behind her.
Juicy blew out a long breath and hurried down to the basement.
'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...' she chanted. 'I just fucked a crazy homeless man. OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD...
'
Juicy dumped the bundle into the first washer and when her arms were free she covered her face with her hands. 'I AM in a vegetative state. I got hit in the head, I was in a coma and I'm no longer of sound mind and body.' Juicy began to pace. Absently she adjusted her bra. Her left breast felt full and sensitive from Troy's attention. Juicy closed her eyes and covered her breasts with the palms of her hands. But Lordie did he know how to work on some titties, not to mention making her cum like that. What man had ever wanted to kiss her for nearly an hour?
Juicy rubbed the sweat away from her forehead. She reminded herself that Troy was his name; not a homeless guy, or Mr. Cracker. He was Troy. And Troy had done so much good and not one thing bad. And why exactly was she looking down her nose at him? Who was she to look down her nose? Who the hell was she?!
Juicy hung her head down low then she picked up the fallen coins and dropped them into the slot of the washer. She poured detergent over the clothes and started the wash cycle on hot. Slowly she began walking back up the stairs smoothing her hands over her pants. Her panties felt soaked from...her throat went dry.
When she entered the apartment she heard the shower going. In relief she went to the fridge and although she wanted a stiff drink, she settled for a bottled water. She sat down on her black fur couch reclining her head back.
The bathroom door opened a few moments later and Troy stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. Her eyes scanned his form. Instantly she forgot about her previous thoughts in her admiration of him. Troy's stomach was flat and well muscled. Where did homeless guys work out?
He spotted her on the couch and came over to sit across from her on the red ottoman.
"Are you okay?" He asked with a bit of trepidation.
"Yes. I am." She offered him a tentative smile. She tried to think of something nice, something positive. “I...uhm...wanted to tell you that you made me feel really...good."
He smiled and sighed. "I could tell. Likewise, in case you couldn't tell."
"Troy, I'm really sorry about yelling at you that day. I was wrong, and I was rude. I'm so thankful that you didn't hold that against me and that you helped me anyway."
Troy's eyes grew wide. "Oh, Juicy, I could never just sit back and listen to another person being hurt. That's just not my way."
"Then there should be more people like you, Troy."
He shook his head and looked away.
"So, does my home really make you nervous?"
After a few moments of thought Troy looked at her. "Yes, because it represents a trap."
Juicy inhaled a deep breath and before jumping to any conclusions about the state of his mind she continued. "How is it a trap?"
"Because...if I used my social security check to pay for an apartment, or house or whatever...then yeah, there's money enough for that. But who has just a house? You have utilities because you have to have lights, heat, electricity. Right?"
"Right."
"And then you have to have something to sleep on, something to sit on—and then that's a third of your check. Why spend a third of your check to have your own place, only to walk in there and it gives you no comfort. Right?"