From the Streets to the Sheets (18 page)

A month later, unexpectedly, he asked me to move in with him and I accepted. But before we hooked up like that he said to me, “Yo, when we do this . . . you my wifey forever, you feel me? I’m gonna take care of you, Ayeesha . . . you know what I’m sayin’? But if you ever cheat on me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. I mean it. Ain’t gonna be no conversation neither. I’m just gonna pull out my gat and your life will be over.”

He was so serious!

But I knew I loved him, and cheating on my boo was far from my mind at the time.

Tears promised to take care of me, and he did, without missing a beat.

Because of him, I finished paying for school and got my degree. A year later I was driving a brand-new Lexus. We might have been living in the projects but our apartment had everything money could buy. From a flat-screen TV, Gucci, and Donna Karan, to imported furniture and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom.

                  •                  •                  •

I stood in the shower thinking over my two years with Tears, some good and some bad. Surprisingly for me, I had never cheated on him. I really loved him and I was trying to make things exciting for us. But lately Tears had been making that impossible. He was too caught up in the streets, grinding, hustling, and forever across state lines moving weight. When we first got married Tears used to dick me down every fuckin’ night. Now I’ll be lucky if I get it once a week.

“Ayeesha, I’m out,” Tears shouted, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Ayyite, baby . . . be safe,” I shouted back. But I was still frustrated and still fuckin’ horny.

It was Thursday morning, and I was ten minutes late, but my boss always gave me some leeway. He’d had an innocent crush on me since the day I started.

I worked in Brentwood, Long Island, far away from my home in the Baisley Housing Projects in Jamaica, Queens. I had to travel, but I loved going to work every day, because it was a change of environment for me. I’d lived in the inner city all my life, and working in Long Island was the best. It was so tranquil out there that it made you forget that you were still in New York. And I enjoyed driving the distance to work. For me, it was the only way to escape the bullshit that I was putting up with at home. In the projects I was constantly surrounded by thugs and drugs. But at work, I was surrounded by white America, especially the corporate men who kissed my sexy ass every day, lusting for some dark chocolate.

I rushed into the office and Patty, the receptionist, told me that Mr. Robinson wanted to see me in his office right away. I was a bit nervous. I put my stuff on my desk and quickly headed for my boss’s office.

Mr. Robinson was a black man holding down a very lucrative position in the company. He was in his mid-forties and still fine as hell.

I knocked on the polished wood-grain door to his office and immediately heard, “Come in.”

I walked into his plush corner-view office and immediately noticed a man seated on the stylish imported-leather green couch near Mr. Robinson’s desk.

“Ayeesha, I’ve been waiting for you,” Mr. Robinson said, peering at me from his lavish leather chair. “This is Raheem Mitchell,” he introduced me to the man.

Damn!
I thought, gazing at this fine specimen of what a real man should look like. He was tall, dark, sporting a gray three-piece business suit, and had a trimmed dark goatee. His lips were full, his head was bald, and his posture was strong and positive.

He stood up and shook my hand firmly saying, “Nice to meet you.” I held his gaze for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, because he was definitely eye candy. I noticed the diamond-studded watch on his wrist, and I knew he had money.

“Ayeesha, I need you to draw up the deposition for the Clemens account soon as possible, and work with Mr. Mitchell here. We might have him as a new account to this agency,” Mr. Robinson said, smiling from his chair. “And before you start anything, can you please get Mr. Mitchell and myself some coffee?”

“Not a problem,” I said.

I slowly backed toward the door, staring and smiling at Raheem Mitchell with my flirty ass. His eyes never left mine and I walked out of Mr. Robinson’s office with that same tingling sensation between my legs that I’d had this morning.

I worked with Raheem all morning. He was thinking about bringing a new account to the agency, which would be worth forty-five million dollars, and Mr. Robinson was kissing his ass.

We talked and got to know each other, and all I knew was there was a serious attraction between us.

Raheem asked me all kinds of personal questions like he was dying to know my business. I told him that I was hooked up, with no kids, and had been with my man for about two years. I left out the part about how I was dancing onstage when I met Tears, and how wild I was.

Raheem said he wasn’t with anybody and didn’t have any kids either. He was so damn fine he made my panties melt. With all of his money he still had a deep gangsta voice, and I loved the way he talked.

“Your man is lucky,” he told me. “You’re every damn thing a black woman should look like.”

I smiled real big and the flirting between us went back and forth. He made me feel hot. He made me feel wanted. And after that incident with Tears, he made me feel like he wanted to fuck me.

Hours passed, and it was soon time for my lunch break. I glanced at my desk clock and saw that I had fifteen more minutes until my one o’ clock lunch. Raheem was in the office with my boss, and I was dying to see and talk to him again.

A few minutes later the door to my boss’s office opened and Raheem came walking out. He looked like a male model striding toward my desk. I waited for him to say something, but instead he dropped a note on my desk and walked away without uttering one word.

I picked up the note he’d dropped, and it read:
Meet me at the Sheraton Hotel, room 825, during your lunch hour.

I was shocked. I read the note three times, and then stuffed it in my purse. I had a devilish smile on my face as I wondered what he wanted with me. I was definitely gonna find out!

The Sheraton was a few blocks from my job, so it wasn’t a problem. I jumped into my Lexus and made it to the hotel in five minutes.

I walked into the lobby strutting in my brown A-line boot-length skirt, black leather boots, a white blouse, and my light denim jacket draped over my forearm. I had never been in this hotel, but the lobby was beautiful. It was vast, with a large crystal chandelier suspended above marble floors, antique Georgian mahogany carver chairs with scroll arms and saber legs, and a swanky seating arrangement.

I strutted past the two female clerks and went straight for the elevators. I pressed 8 and waited. I was burning with anticipation and wondering what Raheem had planned for me.

I rode up to the eighth floor in silence. That threat Tears liked to make about me cheating on him came to mind.
Fuck him!
I said to myself.
He should’ve taken the pussy this morning.
I got off the elevator and continued down the posh, carpeted hallway. I looked for room 825 and my heart beating like crazy the closer I came to the room.

“825, it’s a suite,” I said to myself in a whisper.

The door was slightly open and I took a deep breath and slowly made my way inside. The room was dim with the shades pulled down and it was quiet. I glanced around the suite and didn’t see Raheem. I stayed my ass near the door, and moved no further into the room.

Behind me, the door slammed suddenly, and out of the blue I felt a pair of masculine arms reach around my waist and pull me closer into his embrace.

“I’m glad you came,” I heard Raheem say behind me. “You nervous?”

“Yeah. A little bit,” I admitted, but pressed my ass against him anyway. “I gotta be back at work at two.”

“Don’t worry, we have enough time.”

He slowly began undoing my blouse, and then I felt his hand reach inside my bra and cup my breast. I moaned with pleasure as he pulled up my skirt. His hand moved between my moist thighs and rested against my throbbing pussy. I shivered as he pushed my panties to the side and slid two fingers into my wet pussy.

“Oooh, ooh,” I moaned, feeling him dig into me. I clamped my love muscles around his fingers and continued to squeeze.

“Um, your shit feels so tight, Ayeesha,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was warm and smelled like Winter Fresh gum. I turned my head, facing him slightly, and he turned too, and we tongued each other down as he continued to finger my pussy tenderly.

His tongue was long and hot and he tried to push it down my throat. He kissed me like he loved my ass. His strong hands fondled my breasts, then continued to molest that part of me down low.

I finally turned all the way around and saw that he was in a thick white terry-cloth bathrobe. I wrapped my arms around him and continued to kiss him hotly, just like I used to kiss my boo.

It was already 1:25
P.M.
and I didn’t have much more time for my lunch break. I took off my boots, and began unfastening my skirt, giving Raheem a little show. I dropped my skirt to the floor and stood in front of him in my white blouse, bra, and some lacy pink panties.

“Damn! You are the bomb, Ayeesha,” he stated.

I continued to strip, shedding my clothing gradually until I stood stark naked in front of him. I smiled, moving my hands across my flawless brown skin. “Your turn,” I said.

He didn’t have much to take off, so he removed his robe from his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor around his ankles.

He stood butt naked in front of me and my ass was in awe. He had a BIG dick. It hung down like a snake from a tree. He had a rock-hard six-pack, some thick masculine biceps, and his whole body was very muscled and shapely.

Ohmygod,
I thought, my eyes fixated on him from head to toe. He was built just like the stranger from my dream last night.

Raheem took my hand and led me toward the bedroom.

“You want me to show you a trick?” he asked as he stood near the king-sized bed.

“What trick is that?”

He scooped me off my feet and into his arms, then boosted me up over his shoulders until I was straddling his neck. He held me in the air and started eating out my pussy, devouring me like a lion.

“Touch the ceiling,” he joked. His speech was a bit muffled ’cause his face was deep in my pussy.

“Aaaaaahhh . . . Ohmygod . . . Ohmygod . . . Ohmygod . . . Aaaaaahhh . . . Shit, Raheem . . . Fuck!” I cried out as my legs began to quiver from his intense tongue action. I grabbed his bald head. “Shit, you’re a strong man.”

He walked across the suite as he ate me as out. I was still hoisted up on his shoulders as he buried his tongue deep in me and my body shuddered with satisfaction.

He moved toward the bed and lowered me down until I was on my back. I peered up at him with a contented grin.

“You like that?” he asked, climbing onto the bed. He spread my legs, then pushed them over my head—good thing I was flexible—and continued where he left off.

I moaned out loud and clutched the green bedsheets as Raheem sucked and licked every inch of me with his expert tongue.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and panicked. It was 1:45. “Shit!” I muttered. “Fuck me, Raheem, right now,” I begged, itching for his big black dick to penetrate me.

He rose to his knees and grabbed both my legs and pulled me closer to him. He pushed my legs back a little as he situated himself, then palmed the head of his big dick and slowly pushed inch by inch of his erection into me. I gasped, gripping the sheets so tight, then biting down on my bottom lip as his thick penis opened my pussy up like whoa!

I wanted to feel that dick raw. I cried out as he began thrusting about ten inches into me, hitting spots that no man had ever hit before. I mean, fuck the stomach! I felt his dick in my chest! I had to push against his stomach because the weight was too much for me to handle.

Raheem continued to pound and pound into me, and with each hard thrust that niggah heard how loud my vocals were. I’m surprised the whole eighth floor didn’t hear my screaming and raving, but I’m sure the people in the next two rooms did.

“Raheem, I’m cumming!” I screamed out. “Oh shit, you making me cum!”

Raheem continued to fuck the shit out of me, until my whole body quivered and went limp from the strong orgasm he put on me. I lay motionless for a moment, trying to collect myself, until I glanced at the time again and yelped, “Oh shit!” It was five minutes after two. I jumped out of bed and quickly collected my things.

Raheem stayed in bed, grinning at me.

“What time do you get off?” he asked.

“Five,” I said, fastening my skirt.

“I wanna see you again.”

“Not a problem.” I quickly buttoned my blouse.

“How about tonight, after you get off work? I have a ranch in Riverhead.”

“Not tonight. But tomorrow night is cool,” I told him.

“Okay. So I’ll see you in the office tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.” I ran out the door and rushed to my car.

I got back to the office at 2:20
P.M.
, but surprisingly no one noticed I was late. I sighed with relief, sat down at my desk, and grinned inside as I thought about what I had just done and how much I couldn’t wait to do it again.

                  •                  •                  •

That night I got home tired and hungry at around six, only to see a bunch of niggahs chilling in my crib smoking, drinking, and making a mess out of my living room.

I got agitated and asked, “Where’s Tears?”

“What up, ma . . . he in the bedroom,” one of his goons said, looking high as fuck.

I strutted into the bedroom and saw Tears sitting on the bed in a black tank top, with the phone clutched to his ear. He glanced up, but never acknowledged me—it was like, Whatever, you home. I sighed and closed the bedroom door.

He finally hung up the phone and took a pull from the burning blunt he had between his fingers. His .45 was resting on the nightstand and I noticed about a pound of marijuana on my bed.

“Tears, why you got niggahs in my crib like this?” I asked in frustration.