Chance dashed down the last flight of stairs in the hotel with intense fear. The front of his clothes was covered with blood. He began noticing that he left crimson handprints smeared all along the wall and banister behind him. As he reached the bottom of the dimly lit stairwell, he quickly headed toward the back entrance and scrambled out of the huge, rusty, steel door marked as an emergency exit. Chance could hardly catch his breath; so he stopped a moment and kneeled forward with sweat pouring from his face. He struggled to figure out what to do, where to go, who to call and how he got caught up in such a helluva’ mess! As the sound of approaching sirens grew closer, Chance dipped back to the car and pulled out of the dark parking garage. In complete shock, Chance sped down a dark back alley, disappearing completely into the night.
Chance is a funny word, and sometimes it’s even a little scary. It can bring opportunity, adventure, and even an element of mystery. Ladybird used to tell me, “Rayqelle. What you don’t know can hurt you worse than what you think you know.” Ladybird was my mama. Her real name was Brenda Dean but everybody called her Ladybird. She was an alcoholic and often spoke in riddles. I didn’t know what she meant at the time but as it turned out, she was right. Ladybird was right about a lot of things. Which was kind of funny since Ladybird also used to tell me that I would never end up being nothin’ but a lil’ ho’ or drug addict. Those are terrible things to say to a little girl but that’s how she was. I didn’t even know what a ho’ was (but I learned.)
I was born on the Southside of Chicago to Brenda “Ladybird” Dean and John Mitchell. He died when I was five years old. About a year later Ladybird married Jimmy Davis; a police officer who lived in Justice, Illinois. That’s about 20 minutes from the Southside. She got pregnant with Lynn about a year later. I’m the oldest; well, me and my twin brother Johnny; however, he was killed by a hit and run driver when we were on our way home from school in the sixth grade. Ladybird never really got over it. She just tried to numb the pain with pills and alcohol. Officer Davis said, “The day lil’ Johnny died, Ladybird went with him; they just didn’t bury her.” Even though she still had me, Letah, and Lynn, she had pretty much given up on life.
I spent most of my teenage years breakin’ just about every law I could think of; which was kinda’ funny seeing as how my stepfather was a cop. I wanted to be good, but once I saw how being bad got me so much more attention, there was no turning back!
I was always doin’ things that I knew I had no business doin’. I was always takin’ chances that most girls would never take. Guess I was hopin’ that one day maybe my stepfather might see how desperate I was for his attention; though Officer Davis wasn’t our real father, he was all we had. It became clear that he really didn’t have much interest in us. He worked really hard for the police department. He wasn’t home much and Officer Davis believed that a woman’s place was in the home. Ladybird stayed at home to take care of us, but after my brother died she started drinking a lot and was always in her own world. Ladybird pretty much left me and Letah to take care of the house. This also included takin’ care of my little sister Lynn, who was born with congenital heart disease and stayed sick a lot.
Most of the time when my stepfather would come home from work after a 12- or 14-hour shift, he would find Ladybird passed out in the living room holdin’ an empty bottle of vodka. Davis would just walk past her shakin’ his head, but they never once argued. To be honest, after Lynn was born, they barely spoke to each other. Really, Davis didn’t say much to any of us at all. He slept upstairs in the attic, we slept on the second floor, and Ladybird would sleep on the couch downstairs in the living room. She drank constantly to escape her demons. Ladybird said that it gave her comfort; well, it might have given her comfort but it made the rest of our lives a livin’ hell! When she drank, it made her really mean!
When Ladybird was younger she use to sing and she even put out a record. My grandma said that she just about came out the womb singing and that’s how she got the name Ladybird. Eventually she gave up singing and got pregnant with me and my twin brother; which made her really bitter and she always managed to take her frustration out on me.
Ladybird never hugged me or showed me any kind of real affection. When nobody was around, she would slap me and tell me how much she hated me and how I ruined her life! She’d always say I was ugly and I looked just like my black ass daddy.
Ladybird did a lot of crazy shit! Over and over she’d say I killed her baby (my twin brother). She felt it was my fault he got ran over by a car and that it shoulda’ been me that died instead of him! Years later as I started getting older, she used to tell me that I would never be anything but a ho’ because I would only play with boys. I didn’t get along with bitches, or maybe she used to say that because she saw so much of her in me. That was the way she really felt about herself.
Ladybird had gained a reputation when she was young for being the neighborhood ho’ and she got pregnant at a very young age. My grandmother used to say that Ladybird’s guilt would kill her one day if she didn’t learn to forgive herself for mistakes she made in the past.
As I got older, rumors started that I was fuckin’ this and that nigga. It was mostly all lies. I mean, don’t get it twisted! I did whatever I wanted to do with whoever I wanted to do it with, but I wasn’t doin’ half the shit people said I was. Most of the guys I kicked it wit’ really were just friends. I never really had any female friends ‘til I got to college, and even then the girls I hung wit’ were more like partners in crime than anything else. I saw other women as the enemy. Maybe these feelings came from the fucked up relationship that I had wit’ Ladybird. Shit, I just figured that if I couldn’t trust my own mama, I couldn’t trust no bitch!
It seemed like the older I got, the worse my relationship became wit’ Ladybird; she was always on my back about one thing or another. She was always accusing me of something and putting me down. So I learned to stay away as much as possible. I never understood why she hated me so much. Everybody always used to say how much I looked like her, maybe that’s why she had so much hate towards me. When she looked at me, she saw her face and her mistakes.
Later on after one of her many nervous breakdowns, she was finally diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia… This was a mental illness that caused her to have hallucinations, and made her think people were plottin’ against her; meaning me for some reason. Which explained why she would accuse me of killing my brother. Ladybird had even accused me of having an affair with Davis! Apparently he had stopped wanting to have sex with her, and as with everything else, I had to take the blame.
I remember sitting in my room at night cryin’ and prayin’ to God that he would give me the magic cure to make Ladybird better. I wanted her to be able to love me; it never happened. Ladybird hung herself from a wood beam in my bedroom the day before my 14th birthday. Not only did she kill herself, but she did it in my room. She wanted to make sure that I would be the one who found her. I guess this was my final punishment for being born. This was her final gift to me. I had nightmares for months after that! I never went back in that room.
Shortly thereafter, I started runnin’ off to my grandmother’s house on the Southside; just to get some peace. I considered this my place of escape. My stepfather eventually just let me stay with her. I guess he knew how much it hurt being in that house, or maybe he was just happy that I was out of his hair and he really didn’t have to deal with me much anymore. After all, he wasn’t my real father anyway, that’s just how it always seemed. It was always so quiet at grandma’s house, so we thought she hated noise. Nobody really wanted to be over there but me.
I didn’t realize ‘til I got grown that she didn’t hate noise, she just loved peace. How wise she was. At an early age, I learned to appreciate peace and the beauty of quiet. See, Ladybird always kept up so much drama I never really knew what peace was… My grandma lived in a place that was very different than where we lived. Davis called it “the no good hood.” But I loved it, because everything seemed so alive, loud, and in yo’ face!
As soon as I got to the Southside, it was like all my senses started to heighten. The sights, the sounds, and even the air overwhelmed me. Every little thing excited me! It sort of helped me to escape the grief I felt over Ladybird’s death.
My grandma lived right down the street from the Southside Shrimp Shack. You could actually smell the shrimp and chicken cooking from her front porch. As soon as you crossed Western Avenue you could just feel the mood of the streets. You’d see the hustlas hustlin’, the pimps pimpin’ and the ho’s hoin’. Sometimes you could actually even taste the filth as you walked through the streets. It was thick and real.
There was even a smell that grew stronger as you walked the streets. The people were so interesting and everything was different from what I was used to. It was so alive! I got cool wit’ a few people around the hood (boys of course). They gave me my first true taste of hood life. Another reason I liked staying at my grandmother’s was because she was really too old and too tired to keep up with me, so I kinda’ did whatever I wanted. While she was busy cookin’, cleanin’, and runnin’ back and forth to church prayer meetings, I was hangin’ in the streets and acting grown. I’d smoke weed, drink liquor, and talk shit wit’ the niggas on the block. As long as I was back in the house by the time the streetlights came on, she didn’t really trip. Even when she did make me come in, I would just wait until she went to bed and sneak back out through the window in my room. Then it was really on!
Davis was cool with me staying at my grandma’s because he always knew where I was and what I was doing; so he thought. What’s funny is that he was supposed to be this great police detective, but half the time he never even knew what was going on with his own family. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. A lot of things happened with me right under his nose; he was just too busy to see it.
My stepfather’s emotional neglect eventually caused me to start actin’ out. Ladybird was dead and I was starvin’ for attention, but he was always so distant. This led me to seek any kind of affection I could get, usually from boys, and I even got involved with sex at an early age. This was my way of satisfyin’ my need for love. I never quite understood why, but oh well…. I mean; I wasn’t gettin’ it at home so I had to get it from somewhere. Therefore I started to mistake sexual attention for love, only to be let down and disappointed. Then suddenly one day it all made sense!
I had discovered the power that sex gave me. Sex made the men love me and wanna take care of me, and the women hated me! Ha ha ha! Sex gave me a real sense of control that I had never felt before. I had been going about life all wrong! I started to see that I could have my way with any man. So I started playin niggas and messin’ wit’ their heads. Sometimes I did it for money or material things and at other times I would just do it out of spite. I just wanted to break a muthafucka’s heart the same way mine had been broken. I used to call it gamin’.
It was easy for me because I had become so good at burying my feelings and doin’ whatever I needed to do to get what I wanted. Nothing mattered to me. Whoever got hurt just got hurt. All that I cared about was me and how I felt! I didn’t give a fuck! Even though I called it gamin’, deep down inside I was still lookin’ for love. To be honest I wasn’t sure that I even knew what love was. How strange it was to be lookin’ for somethin’ and runnin’ from it all at the same time? I was so confused, young, and doin’ way too much! Usually my desire to be loved only led me to greater heartache!
No matter how much dirt I did, Officer Davis always seemed to think I was this sweet, innocent little girl, but never quite good enough to be a daddy’s girl. I had so many secrets! Like the time I got pregnant when I was 16, and he never knew it! I can’t blame him. Shit… he didn’t even know when I got my first period. As far as me being pregnant… I didn’t even know. I just remember being really sick every morning for like a month. Then one day I fainted and fell down the stairs at Grandma’s. The next day I started having bad cramps and passin’ these huge blood clots. Unaware at the time, I was having a miscarriage.
You see, while I was livin’ with my grandmother I met this really cute guy named Monty that lived up the street. Monty was tall, light skinned, slim with a chiseled physique. He had light brown eyes and a big ass tattoo on his chest that said “MAKE MONEY.” That was the name of the crew he ran wit’. He was fine as hell! I mean when this nigga walked by all the girls paused! Monty was 17, had his own car (a BMW745) and mad paper to go along with it! And that boy could dress his ass off. He must have had every Nike jogging suit known to man. Monty and his brother Melvin sold dope. All the lil’ ho’s around the hood wanted him but he wanted me; at least for the moment anyway.
Monty’s brother was one of the biggest dope boys on the Southside. The fucked up thing is Monty’s mother was a crackhead and everybody knew it! That’s why they kept her in the house most of the time. They wanted to keep her out of trouble and stop her from embarrassing them. After all, how much respect would they get from the hood if their mother was runnin’ up and down the street givin’ niggas head for a nickel bump… So when she needed a fix, they fixed her. Man, she was strung out so bad too; if it wasn’t for Monty and Melvin she woulda’ been out here geekin’ just like all the rest of the fiends. At first I thought it was real fucked up that they would feed their own mother that poison, but Monty explained it to me one day. He said: “I know she’s sick and I just didn’t want anybody taking advantage of her.”
Monty was very guarded about his home life. He only invited me into his house one time and that was because I had to pee really, really bad! It was a real shit hole! I mean this place shoulda’ been condemned a long time ago! The paint on the outside of the house was peeling and the wooden steps leading to the front door were rotten and had some planks missing. When you walked in it was dark. Monty’s mother kept the windows covered by heavy drapes.
She had been inside so long that she couldn’t stand the sunlight. The air had the terrible stench of crack smoke, garbage residue, and funky body odor. Monty’s mother hadn’t bathed in weeks and the spoiled garbage in the kitchen probably hadn’t been taken out since the last time Monty’s mama washed her ass! This place was so infested with roaches that you could actually smell ‘em. It was a very peculiar odor, one that you would only know if you had lived in a place like it before. It was cold, dark, and dirty.
I tried my best not to touch anything as I walked down the dark hallway that led from the entrance past the living room. When I finally made it to the bathroom, I just about threw up in my mouth! A mass of roaches scattered everywhere when I flicked on the light! It smelled like piss and mildew from the sour washrags that had been left lying in the window seal. Those rags had to have been lying by the tub for days. There was even a dead mouse lying right beside the sink. Needless to say, I soon forgot about how badly I had to pee.
I couldn’t believe how they were living! I was so heated, and disappointed in Monty. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t mad at him for being poor; that’s something you can’t always help. I wasn’t even mad at him for having mice and roaches. My grandma had ‘em, but I knew the difference between that and this filthy shit! Monty and his brother shoulda’ been ashamed of themselves! Both of them walked around with brand new clothes and shoes on every day, but had the nastiest house I had ever seen before in my life! I was so disgusted and I knew I wasn’t about to sit my ass down in that nasty bathroom. So I took a piece of toilet paper and politely pulled the handle on the toilet to make it flush just in case anybody was listening. Then I quickly got the fuck outta’ there and tried to make my way through the foul dankness of the living room. Monty’s mama and some dirty ass nigga were sitting on the couch looking like the living-dead, staring blankly at the snowy television screen.
When I made it back to the car, I didn’t say one word to Monty. I was sick to my stomach. He knew I was pissed and he was embarrassed. That’s when he started telling me that he was saving up money to send his mama to a private treatment clinic in Indiana. It was supposed to be the best in the country. He continued saying it was gonna cost about $50,000 and that’s the real reason he was out here hustlin’ so hard. I could see that it broke his heart, so I never mentioned it again. Monty loved his mama. No matter what she was, or where he was; if she paged him, he would drop whatever he was doin’ and go runnin’. She was an addict and there was no tellin’ what might be goin’ on. Little did he know that my mama had been an addict too. We had more in common than he realized.
Being with Monty was like being with a superstar. Everywhere we went it was like everybody was watchin’ us. All the dope boys used to meet on Saturday nights at Giordano’s Pizza Place on the Southside near the plaza. I was a little shy at first… When we would be around all those rough ass niggas, Monty would say “Hold yo’ head up. You my bitch!” I did just that. I know it probably won’t make much sense, but it made me feel sorta’ special that somebody was finally payin’ me some real attention. You might even say that I was kinda’ honored to be called his bitch! Truthfully, someone wanting me and making me their own made me feel good. That’s how low my self-esteem was. This relationship would set the tone for just about every other relationship I’d ever have.
Monty used to take me everywhere and buy me all kinds of stuff. The gamin’ was easy. I mean, most of the time I didn’t even have to ask. I just received. Whatever he thought I wanted, I got! You name it: Coach, Polo, Hilfiger, Nautica, and Nike. Whatever I wanted, I had it... He didn’t even know that it wasn’t about that for me. I was nothin’ like those other bitches he fucked wit’. I guess he thought he had to buy me, but I had another purpose. What he never knew was that I was so desperate to be loved that I probably woulda’ paid him to spend time wit’ me. I didn’t want anything from him, nor did I need it. All I wanted was his attention and the attention I got from being with him. I mean, my family wasn’t rich, but I pretty much had anything I wanted and did whatever I wanted to do.
Well, after a while I got used to the material things that came along wit’ bein’ Monty’s girl. Now I was in love, but not with Monty... I was just in love wit’ the thrill of being wit’ a hustla’. I loved bein’ wit’ the nigga that everybody wanted and hated all at the same time. In fact, being with him put me around some of the most serious hustlas’ on the Southside. He even gave me my first lesson in the dope game. I mean, sometimes I was right there watchin him cook it, cut it, and serve it up. Nobody ever suspected that I was the stepdaughter of a decorated police officer. Had they figured that out, I probably wouldn’t be here today.
My family never thought to ask who I was hangin’ wit’ when I was at my grandma’s. I’m sure they figured I had a little boyfriend at school or something. Nobody woulda’ thought that he was this hustle hard nigga from the Southside wit’ a mouth fulla’ gold teeth, and who carried a nine millimeter in his waistband. After all, what would somebody like me be doin’ wit’ a nigga like Monty; a dangerous criminal from the hood, and the danger excited me! I was out of control and lovin’ it! I knew everything would be fine as long as I kept the hood girl separate from the good girl, which didn’t seem to be a problem.
Monty thought the reason my daddy was never around was ‘cuz he was a truck driver and on the road all the time. I think that shit gave me some kinda’ rush. I felt like a double agent! I mean, I was a “hot girl” when I was out in the streets with Monty and this “good girl” at home with my step daddy (when he was there). My sisters didn’t even know what I was up to. Nobody did! I kept my grades up in school and pretty much did what was expected of me at home. The whole thing was tripped out! Crazy thing about all of this is I wasn’t even from the streets. I discovered the streets as a means of temporary escape from the shit I was goin’ through with my family. Everybody was so wrapped up in being worried about Ladybird and my baby sister Letah that they never even noticed how I was changin’.
When I got with Monty, I started dressin’, actin’, and talkin’ different. Being around Monty and his brother opened a whole ‘nother world for me. A world I never knew existed! Shit, I couldn’t help but change. I saw alotta’ ill shit first hand, like how muthafuckas’ would do anything fa’ money and how dope controlled people. Niggas was robbin’, stealin’ and killin’. The bitches be trickin’ and sellin’ them food stamps while their kids sat at home hungry. Whole neighborhoods full of muthafuckas walkin’ around like zombies; chasin’ crack cocaine and heroin. Sometimes it turned my stomach and at other times it turned me on. Monty and his brother used to say, “The hand that cooks the rock, is the hand that rules the world.” They were right. But Monty and his brother were not only involved in the dope game, they were major stick up kids too. They would rob anybody for anything. It didn’t matter if you were an old lady pushin’ a grocery cart or a young nigga pushin’ a Benz. If you had it and they wanted it, they were gettin’ it. They could be ruthless as hell! I once watched Monty shoot a nigga in the knee for bein’ short $20 on some shit he fronted him. Whatever Monty wanted, he got.
As always, Monty got what he wanted and eventually he got tired of me. He went and got himself a new bitch. Let’s keep it real. That was for the best, because about a month later, him and his brother Melvin got shot to death by some niggas from Detroit that they were tryin’ to rob. The bitch he dumped me for was killed by a stray bullet in the crossfire. I guess Monty did me a favor. That coulda’ been my brains on the concrete. He never even knew that we almost had a baby together.
I was doin’ anything not to have to be at home. Since I wasn’t kickin’ it wit’ Monty no more, I started spendin’ a lot of my extra time at the library studyin’ and readin’. I guess that’s one thing that probably saved me too. The strange thing was, no matter how bad things got at home I always managed to keep my grades up. I remember Davis tellin’ us if we got a good education we could be anything we wanted to be and go anywhere we wanted to go. All I wanted was to get away from the memory of Ladybird.
So somewhere between the streets and my books, I found my peace. After Ladybird died, Davis did his best to make sure that me, Letah, and Lynn all went on to finish high school and college. That was what he wanted. He wanted us to go as far as our minds could take us. So I eventually made it through high school. I was so happy and excited about the future; thinking that somehow, maybe my mama could see me and was finally proud of her little girl. No matter how far you go in life, there are some things that never stop following you.
I met Chance about three years ago. It was my first year in grad school; student studying psychology at Illinois State. I always wanted to help people and understand why they did the things that they did. Lynn used to say I thought I was born to save the world and maybe she was right. Maybe I felt that since I couldn’t save Ladybird I had to help as many people like her as I could.
But anyway… Chance was an art major, in his senior year. He had to be one of the finest guys on the whole campus. He was about 6’1, 185 pounds, with smooth chocolate skin like a Hershey Bar, a slick baldhead like a milk dud, beautiful luscious kissable lips, and a body that made you wanna slap somebody! He looked so good that I just wanted to bite him! But instead, I just reached up, and softly ran my finger over the wild hair of his right eyebrow. God, he was sexy!
Chance was incredible; the boy spoke like four different languages (Spanish, French, and two dialects of Chinese). Damn… I mean… How many black people do you know who speak Chinese? Shit… Most of the niggas I met could barely speak correct English like they were supposed to, and on top of being well-educated, Chance had to be the sweetest guy I had ever met. He would make candlelit dinners and take me on moonlight picnics. Chance knew just how to melt a lady's heart. He gave me flowers and candy, he even sang to me or at least he tried to (he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket), but he loved me from his heart. He was every woman’s dream, at least mine anyway. He was so quiet and strong; pretty much everything I never thought I’d have. Chance wasn’t from the hood, but he thrilled me in ways the hood never could…
From the day we met Chance and I were closer than close, even more than inseparable. We were soul mates. Chance owned a beautiful home outside Chicago in Lincoln Park; where he eventually asked me to come and live. I knew I had found the missing piece to my puzzle, my best friend, the breath of fresh air that I had been waiting for my whole life and nobody was gonna take that away! Please don’t get me wrong. Chance wasn’t perfect, just perfect for me. He had his own share of issues just like any other man, but I felt really lucky to have him in my life. Where I came from a nigga either sold dope, stole cars, or had some other kind of dumb ass, hair-brained hustle that would eventually land him in jail or in his grave. The typical thug ass gym shoe hustler, stayin’ caught up in all types of stupid ass drama (with the police, other niggas, with their baby mama’s, etc…) and takin’ you wit’ him every step of the way. Those were the types of guys I was used to fuckin’ wit’. Chance was nothing like that; he brought quiet to my life. He was like the calm at the end of a bad ass storm.
Chance came from a really good family; a very rich family! He was one of seven children, four boys and three girls. His father was a Harvard Law School grad with a very successful practice in Ohio, and he was one of the first African-American representatives on city council where they lived. Chance’s brothers and sisters were also doing very well for themselves. He had a brother and a sister who were both lawyers, another brother who was a big time real estate developer, one sister was a police officer, the other brother owned his own trucking company, and his baby sister was still in college. We came from two totally different worlds, but Chance always let me know that it didn’t matter where I came from. All that mattered was where I ended up.
Chance was a very talented artist. I used to love to watch him paint. My real father was an artist; he called it his great escape. I think one of the things that drew me closer to Chance was the passion that he showed for his work. He could spend hours painting and I could spend hours just watching him. Chance was always looking for different things to do to keep me excited. Not a day went by without him doing something sweet to make me smile. I gotta admit that it took some gettin’ use to.
I had to learn how to love and how to let somebody love me. I spent so much time running away from love, just living for myself, but never really loving myself; all that was behind now. For the first time in a long time, I was at peace; at peace with myself and at peace with being in love. Every night together was just like the first, and when Chance looked at me, I could see the love in his eyes. It was finally okay to let my guard down. I knew he loved me and it felt good! But I guess all good things are destined to find their end.
One night Chance and I were out enjoying a beautiful evening at our favorite Italian restaurant, Angelica’s on Michigan Avenue. It was the third anniversary of our first date. It’s also where Chance proposed to me last summer. This place is very special and holds some wonderful memories for the both of us. Tonight was setting up to be just as wonderful!
Out of nowhere, two soft hands covered my eyes from behind. A strangely familiar perfume lightly filled the air as a soft seductive female voice spoke.
“Rayqelle, Rayqelle. Never kiss, never tell.” The voice said.
“I’d know that perfume anywhere and that voice! Iesha? Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s you.” I said as I turned around in shock.
“Rayqelle Davis. You’d better get yo’ lil’ ass up out that seat and gimme a hug girl!”
I quickly stood up and hugged the friend I hadn’t seen in years. It was Iesha Ellis, my old college roommate and partner in crime. We hadn’t seen each other since we graduated from UCLA and left California to attend grad school back here in Chicago. Iesha went off to New York to pursue her career in fashion design.
“Girl, you look too good! How you been? I heard you moved to Miami to work with some big name designer or something. What brings you here to Chicago?” I asked as I hugged my girl again. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Iesha was drop dead gorgeous, petite, only about 5’1 and 135 pounds, but supa’ thick wit’ it, and everything in the right place. Her skin was the color of honey, with a flawless complexion. Her hair was a dark sandy brown with subtle hi-lights and her eyes were a deep hazel, like brand new soft suede.
She wore a cream-colored two-piece Prada suit that fit her like a glove. Iesha’s shoes were Prada originals with a stiletto heel. This couldn’t be the same ghetto ass bitch that I went to school with! I thought, “Damn. Did this girl hit the lottery? Did she get married and kill her husband for the insurance money? What the fuck?” Anyway, whatever she was doing, she was doing it well, and she sure did come the fuck up doin’ it. She was nothin’ like I remembered.
“Well, I’m here on business. I will be visiting an important client,” Iesha said shifting her eyes around the dark, crowded restaurant as though she was looking for someone she knew.
“Fashion related?” I asked.
“Not exactly… More like public relations kinda’ stuff. Ya’ know,” Iesha responded in a mildly evasive tone, with her eyes still glancing about.
“How’s your family? Letah, Lynn, and your step-dad… Is he still with the police force?” She asked.
“Everyone is fine. My dad has had some minor heart trouble but nothing too serious. He retired about two years ago and moved out to San Diego with Lynn, so she could kinda’ keep an eye on him. Letah moved to L.A. and… Oh no, how rude of me! Let me introduce you to my fiancé. Iesha Ellis, this is Evan Chance. He is the love of my life and my future husband” I said proudly.
“Well, well, well, Rayqelle, Rayqelle. Girl, you always did know how to pick’ em! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evan,” Iesha said with a slightly flirtatious purr.
“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Miss Iesha, and please, call me Chance,” he said as he smiled slightly.
“Chance is a freelance artist and a very, very talented one might I add. He’s one of the best in Chicago. Chance is working on the fine arts revitalization project for Cook County and he is also being featured at the Black Renaissance Gallery opening in two weeks,” I explained.
“Oh… well, well, well, handsome and talented. Girl, you do know how to pick’ em. So, when is the wedding? Have you two set a date yet?” Iesha inquired.
“Not yet, but soon.” I responded.
“November 11th. This year” Chance said. This was a complete surprise to me since we hadn’t even discussed a date.
“Girl, I guess y’all aint’ wastin’ no time! Aint’ that yo’ birthday? That’s so cute. Congratulations,” Iesha said, as she hugged me and then Chance.
“Just don’t wait too long. Some tramp might come along and steal him away. Girl... He is fine and you know a good man is hard to find and even harder to keep… I’m just kiddin’… Listen, I gotta get goin’. My client just walked in. But here’s my number at the hotel where I’m stayin’. Call me tomorrow so we can set up a time to meet for lunch and finish gettin’ caught up. Chance, once again it’s been a pleasure meeting you and I’ll be lookin’ for that wedding invitation. Rayqelle, girl, don’t forget to call me, okay?” Iesha said as she quickly hugged me and hurried off to the other side of the dark restaurant; where she was greeted by a very handsome older man who kissed her on her cheek.
We both watched her from the table where we sat, it was clear that Chance was somewhat intrigued. You see, he was my man and I knew what he liked. I could see that he was attracted to Iesha; not in a way that disrespected me, but in all the subtlety that was Chance. He and I had a very unique relationship; it was different than anything that I had known before. If he saw a woman that he thought was sexy, he had no problem letting me know.
Again, he was never disrespectful, just honest. At first it made me a bit uncomfortable, but in a strange way I had come to respect his honesty. I ultimately learned to love him that much more, because he felt close enough to me to reveal this most personal part of himself. This was so much more refreshing than those niggas who swear that they would never even so much as look at another bitch, then wait ‘til yo’ back is turned to drool at every nasty little piece of ass that walks by. I felt safe with Chance because he is honest with me.
So as we finished dinner, the conversation quickly turned to the topic of Iesha. Chance was curious as to why if Iesha and I were such good friends in college; I had never mentioned anything about her before. I explained to him that we had just lost touch and that so many other things had gone on since we graduated. She was busy workin’ in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. Then I had grad school to prepare for, and to be perfectly honest I tried to keep in contact with Iesha for a while but her ass kept movin’. Every three months the girl had a new address and phone number. So after a while I guess we just lost track of each other.
“Folks lose touch, shit, people get busy.” I explained.
“And speakin’ of gettin’ busy, did y’all?” Chance asked playfully; with that devilish grin. That by itself could always get my panties wet.
“Did we what Chance?” I asked, already knowing what he was trying to get at.
“You know… did y’all get busy?” Chance said looking at me smirking.
“What? No nasty! Now… Why would you even ask me something like that anyway? You are such a freak Chance. Iesha and I were roommates and that’s all. What do you wanna hear me say? Do you wanna hear that we kissed, we fucked, ate each other’s pussies? Nigga what? Is that what you wanna hear?” I quickly responded; as I grew slightly more agitated and horny at the same time. I could feel my nipples starting to harden. Chance’s brashness excited me and he knew it! He knew exactly which buttons to push and what to say to get a rise out of me and he did it every time.
Chance leaned in close to me. He smiled, licked his juicy lips and said, “Only if that’s what happened and fa’real. You really don’t even have to tell me if you don’t want to cuz’ that was then and this is now, but I know a freak when I see one and yo’ girl Iesha got FREAK written all over that ass. By the way, why are yo’ nipples standing at attention?” Chance remarked, reaching toward me as if he intended to sneak a grab at my titty in the crowded restaurant.
“Boy shut up. You da’ freak! You are nasty and you want everybody else to be nasty too! Come on here, pay the check and let’s go. Dinner was great, now it’s time for dessert.” I said slapping his hand and standing up to head toward the door.
“Well, wait a minute, sit down. Why can’t we have dessert here? They have Italian ice and that double chocolate cake with that whipped icing you like so much, and…”
“And what fool? If you don’t get up and come on so we can go, or must I spell it out? I’m ready for some dick! You know, the chocolate dick with that cream fillin’ I like so much? Let’s go!” I was horny as hell and ready to go home and fuck! Oh, and to answer the question, yes Iesha and I did fuck around here and there on some freaky shit, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Not yet anyway. Besides that, he wasn’t ready to hear the whole story about me and Iesha and the part she played in my past. Not yet. Not tonight.
As Chance drove us home, I could tell that it was killing him not knowing what may or may not have happened between me and Iesha. He wasn’t going to let me see how curious he really was and I wasn’t about to tell him anything else. As he said, “that was then and this is now.” Besides, tonight was all about us and the mood was perfect. I was not about to let anything distract us from this evening’s main-event; which was me feelin’ that long black dick inside me all night. Although, I was gonna have to thank Iesha the next time we talked. You see, she didn’t know it but she really added some unexpected extra spice to dinner.
On the way home I decided to relax and close my eyes for a moment. I guess I must have dozed off. Sometimes the night air does that to me. When I woke up, we were at home, sitting in the driveway. Chance leaned back in the driver’s seat with his pants already unzipped and open. His dick was standing straight up in the air, waitin’ for me, callin’ to me. Chance looked at me silently, but I knew exactly what he was thinking and what he wanted.
The light from the stereo glistened against the smooth head of his dick. It was fat, like the top of a wild mushroom. I wanted to put my mouth all over it and suck it; I wanted to feel it hit the back of my throat! I slowly reached over the armrest and touched him with only my fingertips as his precum started to drip down the shaft of his huge cock. I took a deep breath and moved in for the kill. I gently placed my hands around his dick, stroking it up and down as I leaned over it; breathing him in and smelling the faint scent of his Calvin Klein cologne coming from his Sean John boxer briefs. I opened my mouth wide and swallowed his whole dick. Just then, I felt him reach between my legs and slid his fingers over my throbbing clit, then into my already dripping wet pussy.
“Girl, where are yo’ panties?” Chance asked.
Still slobbering desperately, I popped his big dick out of my mouth just long enough to answer, “I took’ em off in the ladies room just before we left the restaurant.” I immediately resumed to the pleasure in my mouth; pulling on his fat, black mushroom head. His moaning made my pussy wetter and his fingers inside of my hole was driving me insane! With all of the bobbing and sucking I was doing, I guess one of the buttons on my blouse popped off; because before I knew it Chance had one hand fingering my pussy and the other one squeezing my left nipple at the same time. He knew that shit drove me crazy. It felt so damn good; I was almost screaming inside and out!
Chance moaned louder. I sucked his dick like the fate of the free world depended on it, I knew just how he liked it. He squeezed my titty tighter and gasped. “I’m cummin’, there it is, I’m cummin’!” he said. Every muscle in his body tightened. He shot his cum into my mouth, buckin’ and gaspin’ for air as I kept on sucking. What little cum I didn’t swallow trickled out of the corner of my mouth. He holla’d, “Aww shit! Yes!” I pulled my skirt up, and crawled over to his seat. “Give it to me!” he said, “You know what I want. Gimme my dessert! I wanna taste you, baby please!” he begged.
I crawled up to the top of the seat, opened my legs over his face, and settled in for the ride of my life. As soon as I sat down I could feel his long tongue slide inside me. The feeling was so intense that I couldn’t hold back, he was about to get what he had asked for! I was gonna cum right in his mouth. I rocked back and forth. His bald head was wet with my juices. I reached back and felt his rock hard dick. I then moved backward until I felt the head of his juicy cock pushing its way inside me.
I pulled his shirt up to touch his sweaty muscular chest. Chance sucked my full round breast as they hung down into his face. I grabbed his shiny, bald head as his stiff dick hit my G-spot over and over and over again! I got up and moved into the passenger seat and bent over on my knees. Without words, I was begging to be fucked. I wanted him to pound my pussy. I wanted him to fuck me speechless!
Chance got up from his seat and got behind me; spreading my legs as he stuck the head of his 10-inch dick between my pussy lips. He pushed it in long and hard, then longer and harder, then faster and deeper! I could smell the leather on the headrest as I leaned forward. The harder that he fucked me, the tighter I gripped the headrest. Before I knew it, I was biting into the leather as he fucked me! I gripped the seat so hard that my nails started breaking; one at a time, it hurt like hell, but the pleasure of him far outweighed the pain of a few broken fingernails. Finally I could feel it, there it was, one of those “O’s!” I mean the orgasm of a lifetime. I was exploding!
As his dick repeatedly hit my G-spot, Chance reached around and squeezed my nipples. I was goin’ crazy! I felt like my heart was gonna burst! “Grab my hips and fuck me Chance, don’t stop! I’m about to... There it is! Oh yes! Yes! Yes! There it is!” I screamed. I trembled from exhaustion as he held my hips. His dick was still deep inside me. I reached between my legs to touch the wetness of my own pussy. My body shook from the inside and my toes were curled so hard that my feet started crampin’! This was the orgasm of all orgasms.
“Damn, yo’ pussy is wet,” he said as he slowly started up again; strokin’ me long and deep, then a little faster. Once again Chance grabbed my hips and dug in. I could feel him deep inside me, up by my navel. Faster, harder, deeper… then he clutched my waist as he screamed, “I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’ again,” and shot his hot cum all over my ass and pussy. He pulled my hair to the side and kissed my neck. We both laid there for a moment, too exhausted to move or speak. All of a sudden, the motion light from the house next door came on and shined into the car; sending us into a mad scramble for our clothes. Then a tired old voice spoke from just across the fence.
“Who’s out there? What’s going on? Chance, Rayqelle, is that you? Is everything okay?”
It was nosy ass Mrs. Thomas. She’s the unofficial neighborhood watch commander. We hurried to fix our clothes as she moved toward the car with a flashlight in her hand. We both knew that if she caught us like this the whole neighborhood would hear about it by morning.
“Hi, Mrs. Thomas. Everything is fine, thanks for askin’. We hope to see you at the gallery opening next week. Please tell Mr. Thomas we said hi. Goodnight Mrs. Thomas.” Chance quickly stuttered.
“Okay I just came out to see what was going on. I heard some awfully strange noises, you kids be careful and have a goodnight,” Mrs. Thomas said.
“Goodnight.” We both said in unison.
As soon as she turned around, we both jumped out of the car and ran into the house laughing like two high school kids who just got busted makin’ out in the park. Once inside, I slammed the door and I grabbed Chance by the hand, leading him upstairs to the shower. I quickly set the water. While unbuttoning his shirt, I kissed his chest and undid his pants. I could see his dick bulging through his shorts.
Chance unzipped my skirt, lifted my blouse over my head, and began to run his hands across my body. We hurried into the shower for a repeat performance of what just went down outside in the car. We made love under the steaming hot water for another 15 minutes. We then stepped out of the shower and ran down the hall into the bedroom, still dripping wet. We fell onto the bed with nothing between us but drops of water and the heat from our bodies; then we passed out wrapped around each other.
And I reached over, kissed his lips, and delicately traced along his eyebrow with my fingertip.