Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) (45 page)

A month and a half later, after trying desperately to get her husband to be a little rougher, sexier, and uninhibited in their love life, Suzanne had gone astray in Roxbury again. Antonio just couldn’t get the job done, especially since she knew where to go for a most satisfying substitute. She ended up back over at Big Ray’s place.

He opened his apartment door for her with a smile. “I
knew it.
It was only a matter of time. His dick is too small now, ain’t it?”

Suzanne nodded without a word. She stepped into his apartment and allowed him to close and lock the door behind her. Then she let out a long sigh. “I shouldn’t be here, Ray. I’ve been trying my hardest not to come anymore.”

Raymond laughed at her. “It don’t matter how hard you try to make a
mouse
into a
man.
It ain’t gon’ happen. So unless you train yourself to want a
house
cat over the
big
cat, there ain’t shit else you can do. Now come on in here and take them clothes off.”

Suzanne shook her head and remained inside the doorway.

“Don’t make me do this, Ray. I really don’t want to.”

Raymond read her dark, sexy eyes to see if she were role playing again. Once he noticed the same insane twinkle she had from before, he went right along with her game.

“Oh, it’s too late for that shit now. You already here,” he told her. And he began to undo his jeans right there inside the doorway.

Suzanne shook her head and whined, like a powerless little girl, “
Donnn’t,
Raaay.” She extended her hand to his crotch to stop him. “
Pleeease,
don’t do that.”

Her tease made Raymond’s dick nearly jump out of his drawers and flip into her hands like an acrobat. He was hard as hell in there.

Shit, this bitch is still crazy,
he thought to himself.
And I like that shit!

“Naw, fuck that. You gon’
get it
tonight,” he told her as he pulled his pants and drawers down. “Did you come with no panties and bra like I like it?”

“I don’t know why, because I can’t
do
that anymore, Ray. I just
can’t.
”

Ray went ahead and grabbed her dark-blue business skirt and pulled it up to reveal her beautiful, honey-brown ass, with no panties on to protect her from him his hard, throbbing dick.

“
Stop it,
Ray. People can hear us through the door,” she told him.

So, that’s where she wants it this time,
he mused,
up against the doorway. That was my idea.

He pushed her back against his locked door and lifted her into the air by her spread legs.

“
Nooo,
Ray,
don’t do this.
I have a
husband.
”

Ray found her sweet, wet pussy hole that he hadn’t felt in a while, and rammed his raw dick up inside of her again.

“
Ooooh, Ray,
” she moaned. “This is
baaaddd.
”

“No it ain’t,” he told her with his first pump, up against the front door. “This is
good
dick. And you got some good
pussy.
And good
pussy
should never be wasted on a motherfucker who don’t know what he doin’ with it. Right?”

Suzanne failed to answer him as Raymond continued to pump her up against his front door.

BLOOM! BLOOM! BLOOM! BLOOM!

“Right?” he repeated to her forcefully.

“
Yesss, Raaay, yesss,
” she moaned, enjoying his lost and found dick.

Big Ray continued to stroke her violently into the doorway and talk shit to her, exactly like she liked him to. She didn’t care who heard them outside of his door either. That’s what made it fun for her. It was raw and sexy, and the shameless passion of real life.

Officer Jill Jacobs watched a young college student switch his way up Pennsylvania Avenue on the west side of Baltimore. She was inside her parked squad car at nearly ten o’clock at night. Everything was normal about the kid outside of his quick-footed, left-to-right walking pattern. He wore the same baggy blue jeans, designer jacket, winter boots, and carried the same style of backpack book bag that every other young guy his age carried. But his obvious walk was a dead giveaway to extracurricular activities, and a sure advertisement for homosexual come-ons.

“That’s a damn shame,” Officer Jacobs mumbled to herself as she continued to watch him. “Somebody needs to show that boy a better path to follow before he messes around and catches
AIDS
out here.”

As the young college student continued on his way up Pennsylvania Avenue, he eventually made it out of her sight. That’s when the mean streets of Baltimore stopped looking so rosy for him.

“Ay, yo, look at this faggot-ass motherfucker walking up the street switching and shit,” a teen juvenile mentioned to his crew of hardcore friends. The five of them were full of bravado and swagger, while out on a street corner that intersected the main avenue. By the time Derrick Wilcox had spotted them eyeing him, he tried to change up his walk and revert back to something normal. But it was too late. The gang of troublemakers had already pointed him out.

“Aw, he scared now, yo. You see him just stop switching and shit,” one of the young troublemakers noted.

Derrick thought of crossing the street instead of walking by them. But that idea seemed far too obvious. So he prepared himself to walk through them and pray that they wouldn’t bother him.

“Hey, faggot ass,” one of the troublemakers spat as soon as Derrick approached them on the sidewalk. So much for slipping by.

He ignored the ill-willed kid and continued walking forward.

“You heard me talking to you, motherfucker.”

The unruly teenager jumped out in front of him.

Derrick attempted to walk around him to avoid further confrontation, but the boy jumped directly in front of his new path like a basketball player on defense.

“What do you want?” Derrick finally snapped at him.

“Aw, he even
sound
like a pussy. What do you
want?
” another of the five boys mocked him. They were all in the same range of Derrick’s height and weight, but they were a few years younger, and definitely more rugged.

Derrick tried again in vain to walk around them; only for another one of the boys to block his path to the street.

“Where you goin’, faggot? Nobody said you can leave yet.”

The rugged teenager leaned back to his right as if he were ready to throw a hell of a right cross.

“I’m going back home to my dorm room,” Derrick expressed and backed away from him. He knew what a hard sucker punch looked like, and he was preparing himself to dodge it.

“To do what, get fucked in the ass?” another teen to his right commented.

The troublemakers all broke into laughter as they surrounded him. Derrick then looked around to survey the street. Surely they wouldn’t attack him on the sidewalk as traffic was busy with cars up and down the street. But in a flash, one of the troublemakers kicked him in the ass and knocked him forward.

When Derrick reached out to regain his balance, his hands grabbed the arm and shoulder of the boy who had leaned back to swing a punch at him. And that made the rugged teen lash out with a barrage of furious punches.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME, FAGGOT!”

By the time Derrick realized what had hit him, he was stretched out across the pavement with kicks, punches and stomps pummeling every part of his body as they cursed at him.

“PUSSY!”

“PUNK!”

“BITCH!”

“FAGGOT!”

The beating was over with as quickly as it had started. And when the boys ran off, Derrick was left on the sidewalk, covering up his head and shoulders with his arms.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” an older woman asked him. She had her cell phone out to call the police. “Yes, I want to report an assault on Pennsylvania Avenue…Yes, there’s a young man on the ground in front on me, and he just got
jumped
by a gang of boys who ran off down the street.” She listened to the operator and answered, “No, he’s still on the ground bleeding right now, so you’re gonna need to call an ambulance, too.”

Officer Jill Jacobs received the 9-1-1 call in her vicinity and mumbled, “That’s right up the street from…”

She clicked on her siren and lights and zoomed up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the scene of the crime. When she arrived in under three minutes and doubled-parked her squad car in the middle of the street, she hopped out with her gun holster open, and headed to the pavement. Then she spotted the same hot-footed college boy from ealier, sitting up against the wall of a closed storefront. His face and head were bruised and battered with fresh injuries.

“Some boys just jumped on him, and ran off,” the woman who had made the call informed her.

Officer Jacobs took a breath and leaned down to inspect the young man’s injuries.

“Does anything feel broken?” she asked him.

It took him a few seconds to respond. “I don’t know,” he finally grumbled. He seemed ticked off about it all.

The officer took in his sour mood and rose back up on the sidewalk. She stood at nearly six feet with a solid frame. Her hair was wrapped in a pony-tail under her hat.

“Okay, well, there’s an ambulance on the way,” she told him. The kid wasn’t dying, and she blamed him for switching up the sidewalk—late night in a tough Baltimore neighborhood, anyway. She didn’t have much sympathy for him.

“Did you get a good look at the guys who did this to you?” she questioned.

The young man hesitated. Then he mumbled through this busted lips, “Yeah, they were a bunch of young
thugs. Ouww,
” he whined, tasting the bloody sting from his lip.

Officer Jacobs shook her head, growing noticeably irritated. Despite the young man’s busted head, lip, and battered and bruised body, she didn’t feel like being bothered with his attitude. It was her
job
to gather the needed information from him. He had been
assaulted
while walking through her
area
while she was on
duty.
She
had
to get his report.

“About how young were they?” she asked him.

She took out her mini notepad and pen to began taking notes.

“I don’t know… Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,
young,
” he told her.

Officer Jacobs took another calming breath. “Okay, let’s do it this way and start over. What’s your name?”

“Derrick Wilcox.”

“Where do you live?”

“On campus.”

I knew it,
she told herself.
He doesn’t even look like he’s from Baltimore. He looks like he’s from a suburb in Virginia somewhere.

She looked up from her notes and asked him, “What campus? Coppin State? Morgan? Or what?”

“No, Johns Hopkins,” he answered snidely.

The officer couldn’t tell if he was still sour about taking a beat down, or if he was being a plain smart ass.

Finally, she told him, “Look, I’m trying to help
you
, okay? So just answer the questions when I ask you.”

The woman with the cell phone stopped, looked and gave Jill an evil eye.

“Look, you see how he’s talking to me, don’t you?” the officer pleaded to the woman. “He acts like it’s a
crime
to do my
job
.
I’m
not the one who
beat him.
”

“Well, he just needs some medical attention right now, more than anything,” the woman responded.

“Well, his medical attention is on the way,” Officer Jacobs informed her. “In the meantime, I need to file my report to help us find the kids who
did it.
You don’t want these boys to get away with it, do you?” she addressed the young college student.

Right as she asked him, two more Baltimore squad cars pulled up with an ambulance hot on their tails.

Out jumped two male officers from their squad cars; one African-American and one Latino.

“Is he all right?” one inquired.

“I’m trying to find that out now.”

“Did he describe the guys who did this to him?” the other officer asked.

“I’m trying to find that out now,” she repeated.

Both of the male officers looked over at her notepad and figured she had the report well underway without any further questions on
their
part. Officer Jacobs’ cold-eyed glare informed them
both
that she knew how to do her
job.

“Okay, well, you need anything else from us?”

“You can direct the traffic and get this ambulance in and out,” she suggested.

The two officers looked at each other and grinned. She was what they called “a tough bitch.”

“All right,” they both agreed in unison.

Officer Jacobs then got back to her victim and his report. “So, what did these guys all look like—tall, dark, short, light, heavy, thin?” she ran off at him. “I want you to think about that, and I want to call you. What’s your cell phone number?”

The paramedics arrived with the ambulance and pulled a gurney to the sidewalk as soon as Derrick began to give her his number.

“It’s seven-oh-three…”