Maneater (16 page)

“…and we are proud and honored to present this award for the highest level of mentorship and service to…Mr. Tomere Williams, defensive end for the New York Giants!”

Stepping up on the stage and into the roar of clapping hands and flashing cameras, Tomere Williams smoothed his tailored French suit and approached the podium. He accepted the large gold and brown plaque from the director of S.O.S., then adjusted the microphone, angling it up toward his handsome face.

“Thank you. Thank you, everyone. It is sincerely a pleasure to be here today, and the honor is all mine.”

He glanced around at the huge crowd that had gathered in the Schomburg Center's auditorium with smiling faces. It was always a big deal when a major celebrity put large sums of money back into the community, and Tomere Williams was not only a major financial contributor to S.O.S., he was also one of its beneficiaries.

“Back when I was growing up here in Harlem,” he said, forcing fake tears to well up in his eyes, “sometimes the only meal I ate each day was the one fed to me by the volunteers at Saving Our Sons. If it wasn't for the kindness and generosity of the people who stand before me here today, I might have
starved
to death out there on those cold streets.”

A huge round of applause broke out, and a couple of older women sniffed and wiped away tears of their own. Tomere glanced into the crowd and met the eyes of his latest diversion, a beautifully wild girl named Honey. How she'd known he was getting an award today was anybody's guess, but Honey was clever like that. She played cat and mouse with Tomere, and although he was fast on the football field, he was way too slow to figure this girl out. She sat there in the midst of the poor, struggling folks of Harlem looking chic, sexy, and seriously uptown. Tomere had wrestled with a moment of stark fear because he'd already made arrangements to hook up with a sixteen-year-old shawty with monster titties after the ceremony. Her parents thought Tomere was taking the girl to interview for an internship as a candy striper in a hospital downtown, but in reality he had made reservations at a West Side hotel where he planned to lick her candy and be up in some tight young pussy all day long.

But not with sweet Honey in the house. Fuck that teenager. Tomere's dick thumped just looking at his girl, and he had to fight with himself to keep from breaking out in a smile when he was supposed to be crying. All this mentoring bullshit was a front. A big fat front. The water falling unabashedly from his eyes was nothing but crocodile tears. His stifled sobs were really chuckles of laughter in disguise.

Sure, he'd hung out at the Saving Our Sons center in his youth and had even gotten himself a membership card. But he for damn sure had never eaten their slimy food or gone hungry a day in his life. Tomere's parents had been business owners who lived in a nice Harlem brownstone but owned a chain of dry cleaners up in the Bronx. He'd grown up wearing some of the best gear in town, and the only reason he'd hung around the S.O.S. posse was because that's where all the hottest and loosest young girls in the hood were.

S.O.S. had had a good football team, and every young chick in the neighborhood would turn out to watch the athletes do their thing. After the games stank panties would be flying through the air all over Harlem. Tomere was always first in line to get him some trim. He was an R. Kelly type of man. The younger, the better. He'd played basketball, football, and run track. As a fourteen-year-old, he gotten more pussy in the cut of Harlem's stairways and back alleys than most grown men got from their wives in their own beds.

Of course, naming Saving Our Sons as his favorite charity and making large cash donations to the center was more than just a way of giving back to the community. It was a grassroots effort to be connected to what was important to him. A way of financing his drug payoffs and staying in touch with all the hot young pussy on the ground these days, and even though he'd gotten a bit older and a whole lot richer, the neighborhood hadn't changed that much, and neither had the mentality of the kids. Tomere got almost as much young ass now as he did back in the day when he was pretending to be a hungry little ghetto boy.

Not to mention the tax benefits of it all. Shit, giving to S.O.S. meant he prospered coming and going. With no wife or kids, and making the kind of bank he made, charitable donations were almost mandatory. Saving Our Sons was a real good set up. A handy little write-off. It served Tomere's purpose in more ways than one.

“Today,” he continued speaking into the microphone, biting his lip and wiping at an imaginary tear. “I stand before you as an example of what a community of determined people can accomplish. You fed me, nurtured me, and guided me…some of you even knocked me upside my head when I needed it, and that probably helped me do the right thing most of all.”

Tomere held his plaque up high in the air and paused for effect as the crowd roared. He saw Honey smiling up at him with her long sexy legs crossed at the knee. He thought about how he'd dove between those legs earlier that morning, licking the inside of her thighs until he got to that soft creamy spot in the middle. She hadn't allowed him to penetrate her, but his mouth watered as he remembered how sweet she'd smelled down there, how she'd bent her knees and locked her ankles behind his neck and squirted her sticky juice all down his chin.

Tomere had met Honey a few weeks earlier and they'd gone at it hard and strong from the jump. Months earlier he had taken an elbow to his top lip during a pickup game of basketball that had required stitches and had left a noticeable scar above his lip. He'd been having lunch in a local Harlem restaurant when a pretty young waitress approached him with the name of a plastic surgeon who specialized in removing scars from pigmented skin.

Tomere hadn't thought twice about the damn scar until the girl mentioned it, and when she said it made him look old and scary, he had called the surgeon quick fast and gotten an immediate appointment. Honey had been the anesthesiologist in the office, and the last thing Tomere had seen before going out for the count had been her sexy smile and gorgeous big brown eyes. Her skin tone was radiant and her thick hair had some curl to it. You could tell she was a sister, but she mighta had some Latina in her too, and Tomere liked her combination. She was tall and slender, and not even them ugly green scrubs could hide the breasts and ass she was packing. The girl had so much umph to her that Tomere had hoped to have a wet dream during his surgery, but he'd been too heavily drugged to remember a damn thing. Afterwards, he'd struck up a conversation with her and was surprised when she handed him her business card and suggested he give her a call.

She'd been fucking him dry for weeks. Her sheet game was so unique that he couldn't get enough of her. Tomere was used to banging young girls who had no experience and even less backbone. They'd bend over whenever he told them, twist their young legs above their heads however he wanted, and give him wet, sloppy top following his specific instructions. But with Honey it was different. The girl was bad, and she was all up in his crib and in his mind too. She showed up in some of the damnedest places, and Tomere never could figure out how she always knew where to find him. The bottom line was, Honey was mysterious and exciting. She took charge of him like she owned his black ass, and as different as this kind of thing was for him, Tomere found that he really liked it.

It was Honey who decided when and where they'd fuck, and he always, always had to eat her pussy out very thoroughly before he was allowed to put his dick anywhere near her. For the girl to look so damn good and come across with such polish and class, she was real gutter in the bedroom and she liked her sex hard and nasty. She commanded him in every direction. It didn't matter if he was on top or if she was backing that ass up to his face. It was all about pleasing Honey, and he was required to do exactly what he was told.

This was some crazy new shit that totally fucked Tomere's head up. So many times he'd wanted to blurt out a confession to Blow and Nap about how this girl had him on lock like he was a real bitch. How he lost all his gangsta in her hands, and when she glared at him and told him to peel off her panties or stick his big thumb up in her wet pussy, or demanded he get on his knees and toss her pretty ass-salad, or open his mouth and suck her slim, polished toes, he jumped to it like a good soldier and followed her orders to the tee.

Honey was a joker in the bed, and sometimes she got mean too. But even when she was degrading him, it felt good. She'd laugh as she forced him to march around the bedroom looking totally ridiculous with a rock hard dick and wearing nothing but her high-heel shoes! She made him watch in the mirror as she smeared red lipstick around his mouth, then tongued him down deeply and licked it all off. He thought he'd have the strength to draw the line when she insisted he put on one of her pink thongs, then snatched his erection outta one side and proceeded to wet it up with her tongue, but he didn't. The truth was, Honey was the first girl who punked Tomere sexually and could make him do anything she demanded, and it was the way she absolutely dominated him, much in the same way that he had liked to control teenage girls, that turned him on to no end. Honey was so damn sexy and her body was so hot and banging, that Tomere could practically cum just by looking at her.

And right now, holding his gaze in her spell, Honey uncrossed her legs, then crossed them back again and winked. Just that subtle erotic motion was enough to throw Tomere off his microphone game, and as he stood before the crowd of rapt attendees he fought to drag his mind away from Honey's charms and focus it on the mission of S.O.S.

Tiny beads of sweat had formed on his upper lip and in his pants, his dick throbbed. Despite all the pussy he'd eaten this morning, Tomere wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck Honey. Out of the hundred or so women in the audience, Tomere could smell
her
pussy, and his dick jerked like it could shoot a load off right there in public.

Instead, he shook his head and did his best to calm down and conjure up fake moments of painful memories for the crowd. It was all bullshit, and he knew it. Life had been good to Tomere, and he'd come through most challenges on top. He didn't have shit to stand up there and whine about, but if he really wanted to feel sad enough to cry, all he had to think about was the possibility of losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. A thought like that could put him in the nut house for real. Tomere shivered as he pictured himself living in a cold Harlem roach trap with a stank, fat wife. Or worse, he got dizzy seeing himself as a pissy street bum, riding the subway from one end of the line to the other. Just envisioning himself as penniless and homeless was enough to make his dick shrivel up real quick, and that's just what it did as he brought his speech to a close by thanking the board of directors and their staff for the distinct honor bestowed upon him, then sniffing back a few more fake tears before walking off the stage and waving good-bye.

From the crowd, Honey caught his eye and angled her head toward the door. She'd be waiting for him somewhere outside, Tomere knew. If he was lucky she'd be in the backseat of his Maserati with her legs spread and her panties around her ankles.

Clutching his plaque like a prize, Tomere hugged the women in the crowd and shook hands with the men as he made his way across the room and toward the exit doors.

Kristina, the sixteen-year-old slut he had been planning to fuck all day, stood near the doorway with a dumb, expectant look on her face.
Let the ho wait
, Tomere thought. She'd be waiting all damn day because he was outtie. He wouldn't even bother to tell her nothing. Let her figure it out when she came outside and found out his whip was gone. He was losing his taste for young girls, Tomere realized. Being with such a strong, sexually domineering woman like Honey kept him on his toes. She was a challenge that he looked forward to each day, and after only a few weeks she'd managed to get his house keys, his car keys, and judging by the way he broke his neck to follow her swishing little sailor skirt out the door, Honey had also gotten the keys to Tomere's heart.

I
t wasn't more than a few weeks after becoming Sugar's workout partner that I first laid eyes on Honey. We were coming out of a team meeting and she was standing against a wall opposite the door. I was near the back of the herd, and I wondered why the line filing out the door had suddenly slowed down. But when I got close enough to see what had stopped the fellas in their tracks and had them whispering under their breaths, I stumbled against Roger Boston and almost took our star running back down to the ground.

“Who's that?!” I squeaked. Her beauty hit me right in my gut. It hit me someplace else, too, but I was too embarrassed to check myself out. Wasn't no need. My man Oscar was already poking his big head outta his hiding place and pretty soon anybody who bothered to look at me would damn sure notice him.

“That's Honey. Tomere's new trick. I heard she's a VIP for some black surgeon over in Harlem.”

The girl was a VIP alright. A goddamn Vixen in Practice! I mean, Nap's girl Sugar was
fine
, and I loved the way she was pushing me toward better health, but she didn't have shit on this chick right here.

My lips went loose as I watched her leaning back against that wall. She looked like a damn tornado. Curves just blowing circles around her curves. I could tell how she got her name, because her skin was the exact same color of bee honey and she looked even sweeter. She had bright eyes and that curly kinda hair. It was slicked back from her gorgeous face and hung down past her shoulders. She had on a slinky little white dress that was so sexy my eyes got crossed, and there was a crazy amount of ice glinting from her ears and around her neck.

“Goddamn,” I moaned out loud, then got pushed hard from behind as Tomere tried to get out in the hall to greet his girl.

“Move it, Ribs,” he said and knocked past me with a big grin on his face. He walked over to that thick piece of na-na leaning against the wall and slipped his arm around her tight waist. “This is all me, bro. You couldn't handle half of this if you fuckin' tried.”

Trying had never been my problem. Getting the opportunity had! A bunch of guys were still standing around in the hall. Most of them was faking like they were deep in conversation, but almost all of them were really busting looks at Honey Baby on the sly.

“Yo, Ribs,” Tomere said, nodding for me to come closer. “Get over here. This is my baby, Honey. Honey, this is one of my best nigs, Pork Ribs.”

I glanced at Tomere, then snuck another eyeful of Honey from head to toe. She was a stunna alright. A true banga. Her teeth were snow white and she had smooth light brown skin, and dimples in her cheeks that set her whole package off just right.

“Ribs?” Tomere said, interrupting my fantasy with a questioning look.

“Huh?”

His gaze dropped down toward my dick, then he looked up again.

I looked down too. My shit was sticking out like a flagpole under my gym shorts.

“Oh!”

I'd taken a few notes in the meeting, and now I used my pad to try and cover the bulge of embarrassment that loomed larger than hell in front of me. “I'm cool,” I said, even though the scent of Honey's perfume tickled my nose and had me sweating all down in my drawers.

“Man, we playing
football
in this camp, yo. Go find you a little nappy dugout so you can swing that bat.”

“I said I'm cool, playa.”

Tomere shrugged and laughed, then kissed Honey on her lips.

“Don't pay Ribs no mind,” he told her, leading her away and leaving me standing there hiding behind a notepad and looking stupid with my dick sticking straight out in front of me. “He's one of them real soft niggahs who's too shy to get any play.”

Honey grinned at me over her shoulder, then snuggled herself under Tomere's armpit and sauntered off beside him. I was mad, but that didn't stop me from watching her phat ass cheeks bounce up and down as she walked away.

I hated it when my boyz joked me like that, especially in front of a cute chick, but it was a minute before I could take my eyes off Honey's bomb figure and turn away. I made a mental note that the next time Sugar Daddy Tomere needed somebody to cover for him with one of them fifty-leven Harlem juveniles he liked to bang, he could find somebody else. I was tired of being a flunky and getting clowned like a fool. These dudes was gonna have to start respecting me, or something big was gonna happen!

Damn right,
I thought as I satisfied my bruised ego with a little bullshit mental swagger. Something big had already happened. Right down in the front of my pants. With butt-naked visions of Honey dancing in my head, I fled toward my locker to grab my lotion so I could lock myself in the bathroom and satisfy the crazy black snake that lived in my pants.