Tales from da Hood (33 page)

Small talk with the officer had taken me back to who the real Angel Delaney was, the infamous journalist, that ruthless bitch with a pen. I myself had even forgotten all about Dee sitting over there. I closed my eyes and wished that he was some clean-cut honest-looking fella. You know, the Denzel type. I opened my eyes, hoping that my wish had come true. I looked over at Dee. Nope, no Denzel type. He was still the DMX type all day long.

Fortunately enough, the officer merely nodded at Dee and then directed his attention back to me.

“Ms. Delaney, I hope you don't mind me asking,” the officer said as my heart sank into my stomach. “But could you give me your autograph please?”

“Certainly,” I said, with yet another sigh of relief. This officer was trippin'. I had written several excellent pieces if I say so myself. But not many folks had ever asked me for my autograph. Nonetheless, I signed my name for him.

“Thank you so much,” he said gratefully. “Y'all be safe and y'all have a nice evening,” the officer said with a southern twang.

“You, too, officer,” I said, watching him walk away.

Dee and I sat in the car silently, not saying a word, until the officer had driven off. Once he was out of sight I quickly opened up the car door and puked my guts out.

I could never make you understand just how much I thanked God for that blessing because I knew that was truly a close call. As I hung out of the door, sick to my stomach, I could only wonder just how much closer shit was going to get.

Thug Passion

I
WAS TIRED
and worn out from the evening's events, but I was in no shape to go home. I knew Brandon would probably be there and I wasn't in any condition to be put through the third degree by him about my day. Dee said that he would get me a hotel for the night. I guess that was his way of rewarding me.

The ride to the Jefferson Hotel was silent except for him calling a couple of his homeboys on my cell. My phone rang a few times, but I didn't recognize any of the numbers.

“I don't know anybody from this number,” I said to Dee, reciting it.

“Oh, that might be my boy,” he said, taking the phone from me. “He's probably hitting me back off of his caller ID. Yo,” he said, pausing. “Oh, okay, dukes,” he said. “It was the wrong number. They wanted to speak to Marie.”

Just then my heart dropped. I don't know how much more of this my poor heart could take. It never dawned on me until that moment that Brandon could have been calling me from anywhere. But when Dee said that someone asked for Marie, I knew it was Brandon calling. He's the only one who calls me by my middle name.

The phone rang again. Dee went to answer it again but I stopped him.

“No!” I shouted quickly, snatching the phone from him. “Don't answer it. Somebody is just playing on my phone. Probably someone pissed off about an article I wrote about them or something.”

I knew it was Brandon calling back and I didn't know what to say to him. I would have plenty of time to think up some lie while I rested up at the hotel and gathered my thoughts. Little did I know, rest was the last thing I was going to be getting.

When we arrived at the hotel, the valet parked the truck, and we went in to get a room. I sat down on a sofa in the hotel lobby while Dee got the room. The desk clerk asked for a picture ID, and he must have handed her one that had the name Shawn Michelob on it because she referred to him as Mr. Shawn Michelob.

Had this motherfucker lied about his name when he first called me or what? I thought when I heard the clerk address him. Or maybe it was just a fake ID. Who cared at this point? I just wanted to get to a nice comfy bed to lay it down and get my mind right.

Once we got to the room, we ordered a pizza from my cell phone. I wasn't even able to agree to the total because my cell phone battery died and my cell phone went dead. We tried calling them back on the hotel phone, but it had not been connected yet. Dee was consumed with getting the phone on so he could finish making his calls, handling all that B-I stuff he said he had to take care of before he could give me all of his undivided attention. I was cool with that because while he did his thing, I hopped in the shower. I damn near turned on all hot water and let it beat down on my body as I replayed in my head all of the crazy shit that had happened in the past few hours. I allowed my hands to massage my body, my shoulders, my breasts, and my inner thighs. Then all of a sudden something plopped out of my pussy and hit the shower floor. I almost shitted on myself. My scream rang through my ears. I had forgotten all about the baggie I had stuffed up inside of me.

“You all right up in there?” Dee asked, entering the bathroom.

“Yeah,” I replied, turning the water off. “I'm cool.” I started laughing to myself.

“Well, I'm bout to head downstairs and see why they ain't cut the phone on yet. I be back. I left da money on the dresser for da pizza.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied softly. I picked up the baggie, pulled the shower curtain back, and reached for my towel.

As I reached for the towel, I realized that I should have told him to bring us back some drinks out of the soda machine. I sat the baggie on the sink, wrapped the towel around me, ran to the door, and tried to catch Dee. I didn't see him when I peeped out the door, so I just slipped on my clothes, got some change out of my purse, and went to the soda machine myself to get us some drinks.

The closest vending machine was on the first floor, so I took the stairs down a flight. As soon as I got close to the soda machine, I could hear Dee at the front desk laying the front desk clerk's ass out!

“Why you ain't cut on the phone yet? Shit, I paid extra to get it on and it's been over a half hour and that shit ain't on yet.”

“Sir, I'm going to take care of that for you in a few minutes,” the clerk said apologetically. “I'm sorry. I got busy and couldn't get around to it. But give me a couple of minutes and I'll have it on then.”

“Why I gotta wait mo’ minutes?” Dee said sharply. “I done already waited thirty minutes as it is.”

“Sir,” the clerk said, becoming agitated by Dee. “In all actuality, I've been off the clock for fifteen minutes. I had another fire to put out and some paperwork to do. I'm trying to get out of here. I have been here for twelve hours and I am ready to go home.”

“So, what the fuck that got to do with me? I'm ready to make my calls and go to sleep. I'm tired, too.”

“Well, we're even then,” she said sarcastically.

I stood watching, but Dee didn't see me. He picked up the sign, which read customer service is our first priority and started at the clerk again.

“What da fuck does this mean?” he demanded to know.

“Sir, I'm not going to get into this with you right now,” the clerk said. “You are just going to have to understand that I said your phone will be turned on soon. The longer I stand here and go back and forth with you, the longer it will take me to get the phone on.”

“That ain't putting me first, the customer. The paying customer at that,” Dee said, throwing the sign across the counter.

“Look, Mr. Michelob. I am going to have to ask you to leave,” the clerk said sternly.

“Not until my phone is on!” Dee replied, getting in her face so closely that spit accidentally came out of his mouth and got on her face.

The clerk turned red. “Look, Mr. Michelob. I'm going to refund your money and you need to leave the premises.”

“I'm not going anywhere. I just ordered a pizza and I am tired. All I want you to do is what you neglected to do, your fucking job. Turn my goddamn phone on, ya hear?”

“As I said, Mr. Michelob, you're going to have to leave,” the clerk said.

“Why? Because you's a lazy bitch and don't want to do yo fucking job?”

He was loud and irate. The only thing that stopped him from tearing into the clerk even more was the pizza man walking through the hotel lobby door. He redirected his attention to the pizza man.

“Yo, dude,” Dee said to the pizza man. “That's me, right here.”

I proceeded to get a couple cans of soda while Dee finished up his transaction with the pizza man. When he turned and saw me, I just shook my head at him. He smiled and threw his head up, acknowledging that he saw me.

We went back to the room and ate every last slice of the pizza. It was safe to say that we had worked up one hell of an appetite. While we ate our pizza, we both were comfortable. Dee was sitting in the chair beside the bed in his boxers and no shirt. Me, I had nothing on except for my panties and my camisole that I had on under my clothes from earlier. I was lying across the bed. We talked and laughed.

“Can I ask you something?” I said to Dee. “What's your real name?”

“Dick, I told you,” he said seriously.

“Is that short for Richard or something?”

“Naw, baby,” he said, looking down at his manhood. “Ain't nothing short about it. It's just plain old Dick.”

“Stop joking,” I said, play punching him. “I know your momma didn't name you no Dick.”

“I'm telling you, for real though, my name is Dick.” He smiled and then chuckled a little bit. “That's how wild my momma was. After she pushed me out and the nurse handed me to her, she looked at my dick and, after having four more boys ahead of me, she knew that I had the biggest dick she ever saw a baby have and she named me Dick.”

I laughed at him, but he was serious as a heart attack.

“Why your people name you Angel?” he asked.

I stopped laughing and answered him. “My daddy said that my mother was so evil when she was pregnant that he thought she had been possessed by the devil, that she was probably having Rose-mary's baby. But when I was born and they laid their eyes on me, they knew I was far from a little devil and that God had definitely given them one of his angels. So they named me Angel.”

“Well,” Dee said, “after seeing yo ass in action today, I think yo peoples had it right the first time. A devil in disguise.”

I laughed at his little joke, then added to it. “Or perhaps what you saw was just the devil in me that had been longing to get out.”

“I guess I can bring out the devil in a girl,” Dee said, winking. You could have cut the sexual tension between us with a knife.

“Come 'ere,” he said, nodding his head and licking his lips.

As if I was a genie in a bottle and his every wish was my command, I got up from the bed and walked over to him. He patted his lap with his hand, instructing me to sit down. I sat down on his lap like I was a child climbing up onto Santa's lap to tell him everything I wanted.

Dee scooted me over so that my ass was positioned right on his cock. I could feel his hands running up and down my back. Chills covered my body. His touch was so strong and sensual. Brandon had never touched me like that. I don't know, maybe he had, but his touches never made me feel like this.

Dee gripped one of my hips with each hand and started grinding on my ass. I could feel him growing even harder. I thought his dick was going to burst right out of his boxers and up inside of me. He pulled me against him as he grinded me harder and harder. It felt so fucking good. Before I knew it, I was grinding him back. It was as if the shit had been choreographed by Fatima. We were so in sync.

Before I knew it, Dee had stood me up and walked me over to the bed, kissing my neck and caressing my breasts as he walked behind me.

“Take this off,” he whispered in my ear, referring to the camisole. “As a matter of fact, let me take that shit off.”

The next thing I knew, my $65 Victoria's Secret catalog special camisole was being ripped off of me. I could hear it ripping at the seams as Dee snatched it off of me. Before I could even react, he pushed me down onto the bed. There I was, lying there on my stomach. I attempted to look back at him, but he pushed my head down
and started running his fingers through my hair with one hand as he pulled his dick out of his boxers and positioned the tip inside me with the other.

“Dee,” I moaned.

“Hush, baby,” he said, then in one huge stroke he was inside of me.

I went to scream but he had rammed his tongue into my mouth before a sound could come out. The pain hurt so good as he fucked me wild. He was grinding, swirling, fucking me in and out, and all at once it seemed. I could hear my wetness as he dipped in my juices.

“Oh, baby. You got the bomb-ass pussy,” he crooned in my ear as he pumped me.

That buck-wild shit right there turned me on. That's right. Those words sent me into a trance, doing tricks like I was mother-fucking David Copperfield. Before I knew it, I was throwing that ass back at him. My back was arched like a kitty cat as I tooted my ass in the air for him to hit harder.

“Fuck me harder, daddy dearest,” I whined like a little girl.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “I like a bitch that ain't scared of the dick,” he said, as he got up on his hands, extending his arms, and watched me fuck his dick.

I had never worked it like that in my life. I felt like a porn star and I was loving every minute of it. I wanted to do whatever I needed to please him. That's the toll some good dick can put on you. Good dick will have you so caught up in the moment, the next day when you reminisce, you be wondering, “What the fuck was I thinking?”

“Fuck me back,” I said to him as he obeyed. “Fuck me hard, daddy. Fuck me like you paying for this,” and believe you me he did, just like Long Don Juan. And Dee's momma wasn't lying, she
knew just what she was talking about when she named his ass.

“Fuck me,” I kept repeating. “Fuck me, daddy.”

I always wanted to say that, but Brandon wasn't the type of man a girl could say that type of thing to. Brandon was a romantic. He preferred I say something like “make love to me.” But fuck all that. This right here was some thug passion. There were no rules, and more important, no preferences. It was just straight-out Erotic City.

I was taking Dee's dick better than any of his skeezers could have. Dee was so huge. I swear on everything I love that I never had anything so big up inside me and I was taking it like a seasoned vet, Vanessa Del Rio, Janet Jackme, or Jenna Jameson ain't have shit on me. Dee flipped me onto my back and ran all up inside me.