Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (19 page)

“Detective Massey,” he answered on the first ring.

“Hello. This is Raquel Howard returning your call.”

“Yes, Raquel. Thanks for calling back. You were in a while back trying to help us understand what happened the night Dorian Johnson was shot.”

“Yes.”

“We had a break in the case.”

“You arrested someone?” I asked excitedly, thinking this mystery was finally coming to an end.

“We have reason to believe his wife had her lover pull the trigger. We’re running the weapon through ballistics now.”

“Do you have them in custody?” I asked.

“No. That’s why I was calling you. We have reason to believe that his wife may be trying to contact you. We think she may be in your area. Until we wrap this thing up, she may be armed and dangerous.”

“What makes you think she’s in my area?”

“We have pretty good reason to believe she is.”

The officer was being vague. He asked me to think of anything that may help solve this investigation. I agreed to contact him should anything come up. “I do have one question. You had her lover Darnell in custody. Why did you let him go?”

“We didn’t have enough evidence.”

The police were infamous for fucking up. They had the perpetrator in custody and let him go because of a technicality. If that wasn’t enough, the details of the whole matter were sketchy. I had enough shit with which to deal.

I ended up staying in the office much later than intended. I finalized a few projects, left Kevin a voice message for our next session, and headed home exhausted. There was a strange odor when I entered my apartment. Smelled like cigarette smoke. If I hadn’t known better I would have sworn someone had been in my place. The lamp on my computer desk was off, and I was sure I’d left it on.

Truthfully, I should have moved out after the murders in my bedroom but I wasn’t afraid of ghosts. I blamed them every time something mysteriously was out of place. I didn’t even undress. I laid across my bed and drifted off in no time.

Someone was strangling me. I kept trying to wake up from the dream, but I couldn’t. That’s when I realized I wasn’t asleep. I always slept with my bedroom pitch black. I didn’t like any light getting in. The blinds were now open allowing a soft light from the parking lot to enter the room. It was bright enough for me to see Kristie, Dorian’s wife, on top of me. The way she was jabbing my stomach seemed as if she had spikes or miniature knives wrapped around her knees. I recall thinking it was a hallucination, but that shit was real.

Kristie knelt and licked my lips. “I bet you thought I wouldn’t find you, pretty bitch. I told you it wasn’t over.”

I felt lightheaded. Her hands tightened around my throat, and I gasped for air.

“I’ve been watching you. Figured out how to break in while you were locked up. I’ve tried it so many times, planning this moment. You don’t even know how many times I’ve been in your crib,” she said.

It took all my strength to wrap my legs around her body, get a fierce grip, and toss her over. We wrestled back and forth before I finally had her pinned underneath me. I don’t know what type of choking device she had, but it was still around my neck, getting tighter, and she was kicking me with those spikes. I fought to escape from her hold. I let my body collapse on her, slipping from the lock her strangulation device had around my throat. Before she could get it back around my neck, I lifted myself. My elbow came crashing down in her face. I was trying to break it into tiny pieces.

Kristie wasn’t always that strong. When I last saw her, she was a petite woman weighing no more than a hundred and fifteen pounds. Now, she must have been two hundred and fifteen. I was bleeding from where she’d been cutting me. I was dizzy and off-balance. That’s when I heard my mother’s voice: “You better fight like it’s your last.”

Kristie was on my turf. I jumped over my vanity, attempting to turn on the lights. She must have unplugged them because there was no electricity.

Kristie ran toward me. I raised my leg, knocking her back with a powerful sidekick. She fell to the ground. When she tried to get up, I kicked her in the chin, snapping her neck back. She fell. Before I knew it, I saw a flash of light and heard a popping sound. That bitch had a gun. The shot was quiet, similar to those that are fired from a silencer on a pistol.

I collapsed on the floor. I was stinging so badly from the cuts she’d made when she kicked me that I wasn’t sure where I’d been shot. I quickly rolled over and reach for my glock, which I kept on the side of my bed.

Kristie ran into the hallway and turned on the light. “I want to see your face, bitch,” she screamed.

I was on the floor behind my bedroom door, lying on my back with my legs spread open waiting. She was confident her gunshot had left me helpless.

“I’m going to finish fucking you up,” she said, sneering in a deranged tone.

I didn’t say anything, just waited. When she walked through the door, I fired three shots. The first one pierced her neck, the second hit her lung, and the final shot ripped through her spine, paralyzing her.

Chapter 20|

I felt my life when it slipped away from me. I was with my brother, and we were laughing like we used to be back in the day when we’d stay up all night, sipping on Boone’s Farm. We were happy.
It’s not time for you to be here, baby sis. I’ll always be looking out for you
. That was the last thing I heard him say before an angelic voice hollered, “We have a pulse.”

“We lost you for a second,” Kevin said.

Those few minutes of death seemed like an eternity. I didn’t recall what happened. Kevin offered to place me under hypnosis to allow my trapped feelings and experiences to emerge so I’d have closure. I never agreed to hypnotherapy before because of fear of what might be revealed while under the control of another. I was tired of running and hiding from my past. I allowed Kevin to proceed with his treatment.

“Wake up, Raquel. It’s okay. I’m right here,” Kevin said.

I woke up screaming and sweating copiously. My sounds diminished as Kevin embraced me.

“You’re going to be alright, Raquel. We’ll go over my findings when you’ve had time to rest. You mentioned someone named Chauncey toward the end. Is he somehow connected to Troy?” Kevin asked.

“No, he isn’t. What was I saying?”

“Well, I heard his name just before you started rambling about Troy. It wasn’t very clear. When you went into convulsions, I brought you back before you hurt yourself.”

It was good he brought me back when he did, before I said too much. I needed to call Chauncey Grim, my hustler from Pandora’s.

• • •

Needless to say, I finally moved my ass out of that apartment. I’d made the decision to erase the men in my past. That included Donovan. I didn’t even say good-bye, just cut him off.

I’d taken my fucking down a notch, turning to mutual masturbation from my Internet video cam with this guy from Phoenix. He was more perverted than I was, always pulling his dick out while we were online. He caught me once when I was horny too. We’d been cyber-fucking since.

It started out innocent then escalated into a porn show with him beating his dick and me pouncing up and down on my new hot seat. It was an incredible new toy I’d picked up at Kapri’s nasty girls party. Basically, it was an inflatable ball with a nice dick protruding from the middle. My hot seat warmed, massaged, and vibrated, easily deflating for private storage.

Chauncey Grim owned a few strip clubs, but his main operation was pushing cocaine through New York, Miami, and Cuba. He eventually took over Pandora’s turning it into a premier hot spot. He asked me to stay on as his marketing strategist, but I declined.

Chauncey was a blessing. I’d shared my past with him. Not that I was proud of killing two people. However, it was a necessary element in establishing my street credibility. I’d intentionally avoided murdering Kristie’s ass—just wanted to back her off me. It seemed appropriate to leave her in a vegetative state, in worse condition than her husband, Dorian. I believed in karma, and what goes around, comes around. As for me, I had my day coming, and all I could do was pray that others were out there doing shit worse than me and somehow my dirt would be overlooked or forgiven.

Until then, I was living it up. The street value of Troy’s cocaine I had locked in my safe was worth more than five million dollars, which Chauncey converted on the streets for me, transferring $5.5 million into my bank account for the exchange.

Finally, I realized my worth.

About the Author

Naija
is an author whose urban tales sing with inimitable style and flow. She currently resides in New York City. Visit the author’s website at www.brownerotic.com.

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Between My Thighs.

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