Nude Awakening (7 page)

TEN

August 27, 2011

Saturday, 9:38 a.m. - Coconut Grove, Florida

Trevon’s morning began with Kandi pulling the sheets off him. He was dead tired after their freak oral session. They made sure he had not broken the guideline in the contract. Trevon was given a lesson in the art of orally pleasing a woman. At one point, Jurnee sat on his face as Kandi bobbed up and down on his dick. Jurnee again said it was business. She wanted to make sure he knew how to eat pussy. Business or pleasure, Trevon enjoyed every moment.

“Jurnee said you forgot this,” Kandi said, posed at the foot of his bed.

Trevon sat up, rubbing his eyes as Kandi tossed a magazine on the bed. It was the magazine with Jurnee on the cover.

“Damn, why are you up so early?” He yawned.

“I’m going to get my hair and nails done with Jurnee.” Kandi sat on the edge of his bed. “Have fun last night?” she asked with a guilty grin.

“What do you think?” he lay back down, closing his eyes.

“We wore your ass out, huh?” She stood up. “You can use my ride if you want to ‘cause Jurnee is coming to pick me up.”

He forced himself to sit up. “Gotta see my P.O. and plus I need to get my damn driver’s license.”

“You need some money?”

“Um . . .” He was hesitant to take any money from her.

“It only requires a yes or no reply, Smooch.” Kandi grinned.

“Don’t call me that,” Trevon said, lying back down hoping to catch some more rest.

“Why not? I should be able to call you that. It means I like you.”

“Did you have one for your ex, Swagga?”

Kandi frowned. “Damn. You sure do know how to steal my shine. But for the record, no. I didn’t have a pet name for his no-good ass.”

“My bad.”

“I know, Smooch.” She smiled then pulled him back up. “You have some sexy ass lips.”

Trevon rolled unwillingly out of bed.

“That morning wood looks tempting.” She nodded at the bulge under his boxers and crossed her legs, eyeing him as he headed for the bathroom. “I had a wild dream about us fucking last night.”

“Something tells me not to doubt that,” Trevon replied, reaching for the toothpaste.

“Yeah. It got me looking forward to doing it with you.”

Trevon looked at her. “Business or personal?”

Kandi was caught off guard by his direct question. “I guess time will tell.”

“I’ve heard that a lot.”

Kandi tugged the fitted cream-colored sundress down over her wide hips. “I have to get ready to go. I’ll leave you some money and the keys to my truck on the kitchen table. And I added your name to my visitor’s list so you’ll have no problem at the front gate.”

Trevon could only nod okay since he was brushing his teeth. Seven minutes later he was alone. Once he got dressed he found the keys and $1,200 on the kitchen table and a note from Kandi:

Be safe, Smooch. I’ll call you later on. Oh yeah . . .

I’m missing you much already!

Sweet Kandi

Trevon sat down at the table smiling. She was indeed sweet. Last night he held nothing back in licking and sucking on her flesh. Everything so far was drawing him in toward Kandi. He just needed to draw the line between his building emotions. Business or personal.

Trevon made it to the downtown probation and parole building in Miami after stopping at a fast food restaurant for breakfast. Without Kandi at his side he was nervous to drive without a license. Down in Miami the Escalade was flashy, but by no means was it exotic. It was nothing special to pull up at a red light and spot a Ferrari or a Porsche.

Stepping out of the Escalade he took a moment to take in the scene. Horns blew nonstop in the heavy flow of traffic. Again, he noticed everyone walking with a cell phone glued to their ear. All types of nationalities were merged together within his view. On one corner stood a shouting Arab behind a hot dog stand. A few yards to his left sat a heavy dreaded black man singing a song in a lost language Trevon could not understand. What stood out most to him were the police posted around every one or two hundred yards. Seeing them pushed the visit with his P.O. back into his mind. Above him, the towering building blocked out the sun, but as usual, it was still hot as hell.

Trevon made his way inside, hoping the visit with his P.O. would be a productive one. At the front counter, a thin, short-haired black female sat typing on a keyboard. The wooden name block on the counter read Nikki Conner.

“Um, I’m Trevon Harrison and I’m here to see Ms. Paige,” he said placing his hands on the waist leveled counter. He stood ramrod straight.

“How about good morning or something?” Nikki said, looking up from the computer screen and rolling her neck.

Trevon sighed. “Good morning.” He glanced at the name block again. “Ms. Conner. I’m here to see—”

“I heard you the first time. Gimme your I.D. and sign in.” She nodded at the sign-in sheet to his left. “How long you been outta prison?” she asked impatiently.

“Since the seventeenth,” he replied, signing his name. He could feel her ogling him.

“Of what?”

“This month.”

“Umph! Ain’t been out two weeks and you wearing Gucci! What type of drugs you selling?”

Trevon ignored her bullshit assumption. He was told to sit and wait.

The waiting room was packed. Trevon could feel the hopelessness emitting from the other parolees who also sat in the waiting room. Across the room, two females complained about the lack of jobs while a thugged-out teenager paced the floor. A few of them eyed his clothes. Trevon could feel the envy. Twenty minutes went by before his name was called. After passing through a metal detector, he was directed to the elevator. His parole officer was located on the fifth floor.

Thirty-nine year old Kendra Paige was in an ill mood today. In truth, it was the norm for her. She associated it with her daily dealings with ex-cons. Law enforcement was in her blood. She started out in the military and served three and a half years until she was medically discharged for lower back pain. After a year of depression, she got back on her feet and found a job as a correctional officer. She found the job rewarding and sometimes stressful, but she refused to give up. In six years, she moved up to the rank of Sergeant. After becoming pregnant with her firstborn, she left the prison to take a job as a parole and probation officer. She was a single mother of a three-year-old little girl who was the center of her life. As for the baby’s father, she despised him, but respected the support she received financially. Kendra pushed up her designer glasses as she typed on the wireless keyboard. Her frame was naturally thick, but not in the lines of an exotic dancer’s body. Her only flaw was her ever sour attitude. She looked up at the door when Trevon knocked. The door was open.

“Name?” the dark, brown-skinned sister asked, looking down at her appointment sheet.

“Trevon Harrison.”

Kendra found his name. “You can sit down, Mr. Harrison.” She frowned and briefly scratched her short, curly hair.

Trevon eased his large frame into the hard metal chair, hoping the R&B singer Jill Scott look alike would lighten up with the attitude.

Kendra pulled up his file while trying to ignore the scent of his cologne. She had a good memory and could recall when she first met Trevon two days after his release from prison. She had driven to the boarding home to introduce herself and to lay down the rules she expected him to follow. No drug use, no drug selling, no possession of a firearm. He could not leave the state and he had to find a job. She knew he had no family in Florida and he only had $130 to his name. Once his file was on the monitor, she looked at him.

“How’s life treating you, Mr. Harrison?” she asked in a flat emotionless tone.

“Okay,” he began. “Just trying to catch up with everything. All this new technology and stuff is crazy, but I’m learning.” He wanted to get on good terms with her.

“Found a job yet?” she pressed.

He suddenly remembered a clause in his contract that prevented him from telling anyone about his deal with Amatory. Janelle wanted Trevon to stay focused. She said it was okay to share the news with Kandi.

“Um . . . not yet, but I’m working on something.”

“Mm hmm.” She sat back, crossing her arms over her large breasts. “So you don’t have a job. Well, how about you explain those clothes.”

“It’s all a gift.”

“A gift?” she asked skeptically. “From who?”

“From a friend.”

“Hmm . . . and does this friend know that you need a job? And does this friend have a criminal record?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Oh, I see. Your girlfriend. Well, that was nice of her, but you still need to find a job. I don’t care what you find, just as long as it’s legal. You know what will happen if you don’t find a job, right?”

“How could I forget?” he said with a slight ill attitude.

Kendra smacked her lips. “Don’t get fly with me, Mr. Harrison. You might look like somebody in all that Gucci shit, but you’re still property of the state. As long as you’re on paper, you have to deal with me! Now these can be two years of peace or you can make it hard on yourself and end up back in prison. It don’t make a difference to me. Matter of fact—” She sat up and grabbed the telephone, then pushed the buttons for an extension. This fool got me mixed the fuck up if he think I’ma be tripping over his ass! I’ll show his black ass that I’m not the one to fuck with! Send his big ass right back to prison where he can lift weights for—She glanced at the monitor—Six years!

“Sherwood, this is Kendra. I need to send someone down for a drug urinalysis test. Can you squeeze him in?”

Trevon began to hate Kendra and bit down hard on the inside of his jaw. Stupid ass bitch!

Kendra slammed the cordless phone down then told Trevon to go down to the main floor to see the drug urinalysis officer. She stared at him hard as he sprung up to his feet.

“Fail the test and I’ll personally take you back to prison!” she said as he barged out of her small windowless office. Instantly, her mood changed by picking up the digital picture frame off her desk. She sat back and smiled while flashing through the twenty pictures of her daughter.

Trevon walked back into her office thirty minutes later having passed the drug testing. Kendra visibly gave him a side smirk.

“Your next contact with me will be the twenty-sixth of next month and you better be able to show me proof of a job. In between time you can expect random visits to the boarding home by me or another parole officer and be subject to a search and drug testing and—”

Trevon cleared his throat. “I’m not at the boarding home no more.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean you’re not living there no more. Since when? And why haven’t you informed this office?” She pointed down at the desk.

“I’m moving out today and I’m telling you now.”

“And where are you moving to? You are aware that you must let us check the place out first. You’re not allowed to be in a high crime rate area.”

“So why is it okay for me to be in Liberty City?”

“It was the only place that had space, so we made an exception.”

“Well, I’ve found a better and safer place to stay.”

“Where?”

“Coconut Grove.”

Kendra asked, more like demanded the address. She warned him that if the address was fictitious, that she would lock him up. Seeing he also had a new cell phone, she told him to give her the number. She was very suspicious of all the new material items he had. This nigga selling drugs. I know he is. Either that or he robbed somebody. She would enjoy catching his ass in the wrong. She typed his new contact information on the computer, then told him that she would be in touch.

Trevon had no idea how he would manage to deal with her hateful ass for two years. She can’t have no man at home. Too fucking hateful! he thought as he stood up to leave. His mood was low as he headed back outside. Nigga, you free! he told himself, then jumped in the shiny black Escalade and rode off with the system bumping. Trevon would not let one stuck up miserable P.O. steal his shine. Fuck her!

Cindy aka Déjà Pink, woke up late in the afternoon with her naked body curled against Swagga. She had knowledge of the other bitches he fucked, but none of them mattered to her. Currently, he was the only man sliding dick up in her and she was content because the money was endless. She knew what Swagga was worth. Last year alone, he had earned $2.3 million in record sales. For that reason, Cindy had an exclusive sexual relationship with him and was happy with herself when her affair with Swagga caused tension with Kandi. Cindy was pulled into Swagga’s life by his money. Hanging out with his entourage and people in the rap industry, she tightened up her slang and became a bigger fan of hip-hop. Katy Perry was long gone from her playlist. She could now recite the lyrics to her theme song, “Five Star Chick,” word for word.

Slipping from the bed, she walked barefoot and stark ass naked out of the bedroom. Hearing the TV on in the den, she smiled.

“Morning,” she said and waved at Yaffa as her perky breasts swayed and juggled.

“Afternoon,” he corrected her, lusting hard at the size of her creamy ass.

Cindy trotted by slowly, letting Yaffa get an eyeful of her body. She had lost count on the number of times Yaffa had seen her naked. Just last week, she had screwed Swagga in the studio booth doggy style while Yaffa and the production crew watched. That shit was a huge turn on for her. While Swagga was doing her, she was having a graphic fantasy that everyone in the studio would take turns. One line she knew Swagga would not cross would be allowing her to fuck someone else.

In the kitchen, she pulled out a wine cooler and sauntered back to her bedroom. She knew Yaffa was looking at her and it made her nipples hard. She loved to tease and flirt.

Flopping on the bed, she nudged Swagga to wake him. When that did not work, she reached under the sheets and grabbed his dick with her cold hands. He woke up shoving her hand away. “What the fuck!”

“Wake up, baby.” She smiled. “I have to go to the gym.”

“Why you wakin’ me up?” He rubbed his face, then reached out to rub between her tanned legs. She was slick. It was the norm for him to wake up with sex on his mind. She pushed his hand away.