Deep Throat Diva (7 page)

Ten minutes later, another batch is coming through the door. Jasper is the fourth one to enter. Even in his prison-issued khakis, he’s still a sexy motherfucker! He quickly scans the room looking for me. I smile, standing up. His face lights up as he smiles back at me. I admire him as he makes his way over to me. His swagger is so damn thuggish and sexy. I feel my pussy clenching and unclenching as I stare at the imprint of his dick.

“Damn, baby, you look good as hell,” he says, sweeping me up in his arms before quickly kissing me on the lips, then sliding his tongue in my mouth. His kiss is deep and passionate, and in that brief moment, filled with an overwhelming love. We don’t linger too long ’cause the CO’s will get on their bullshit. He takes a seat next to me.

“Yo, where’s Stax?” he asks, looking around the visiting area. I tell him he went to the bathroom. “Oh, aiight. So how you?”

“I’m good. And you?”

“Better now,” he says, wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into him. He kisses me on the side of the head. “I miss you, girl.”

“I was just here last week,” I say playfully. I peep Stax over by the vending machine talking to some chick. From where I’m sitting she looks like she might be a pretty chick. I point over in his direction. “There he is over there.”

“Yeah, I see him,” he says, looking over there, then bringing his attention back to me. “Aye, yo, don’t start ya bullshit, ya heard?”

I frown. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I didn’t peep that slick lil’ comment you made. So what if you were here last week? What that gotta do with me missin’ you?” He stares at me hard, searching my eyes for something—lies, maybe.

“Nothing,” I tell him, staring back at him, smiling. “I miss you, too.”

“Oh, aiight. You better. Damn, you smell good. What’s that you have on?” I tell him it’s Euphoria by Calvin Klein. “Oh, word? That shit’s makin’ my dick hard.”

I smile. “Nigga, your dick stays hard.”

“Damn straight, baby; rock-solid. You keep a nigga horny wit’ ya sexy ass.” He leans over on me and whispers. “Put ya hand under the table, and play wit’ my dick.”

I suck my teeth, rolling my eyes. Then quickly search the area
to see where all the CO’s are. They all seem preoccupied so I slide my hand over into his lap and rub the bulge that’s pressed against the inner part of his thigh. The mouth of my pussy instantly starts to pucker. I feel my juices slowly stirring inside of me.

“You like that shit, don’t you?” he asks in a low voice. I nod, keeping my eyes locked on all the CO’s. He brushes his lips to my ear and whispers, “I wish I could fuck you right here on this table. I want some pussy so bad.”

His warm breath causes my skin to tingle. And for a split second I almost forget where I am and close my eyes, imagining myself spread out on the table, ass up, being deliciously fucked deep from the back. “My pussy’s getting wet,” I tell him; glad I wore a panty liner, otherwise I’d end up having a bad case of sticky drawers. I remove my hand when a young girl and an elderly woman walk toward us and sit at a table next to us. “Party’s over.”

He sucks his teeth. “Yeah, and my muhfuckin’ dick’s ready to bust out these fuckin’ pants. You got my balls bubblin’ ’n shit.” I laugh. “Shit ain’t funny. But it’s all good. I’ma beat that ass up as soon as I get to the halfway house. The minute I get a furlough, it’s on, baby.”

“I can’t wait. When are you supposed to be leaving?”

“I’m just waiting, baby. It should be any minute.”
Yeah, okay
, I think, glancing around the visiting area. He’s talking prison lingo ’cause, in my mind, “any minute” is literally that. But in prison, the shit could mean weeks…shit, months! I want to ask him to be a little more specific, but decide against it.

Out of nowhere he tells me he wants to set a wedding date. Tells me he’s tired of waiting. That he wants to wife me—
now
. I tell him we should wait until he’s done with the halfway house. He’s not trying to hear it.

He shoots me a look. “Yeah, well, I don’t wanna wait that long. I wanna marry ya fine ass today, aiight?”

I smile. “I know you do. And I feel the same way. But I don’t want to half step either. When I go down that aisle with you, it will be the first and only time for me, so I want it to be right. It has to be fly and fabulous.”

“I hear you, baby. You’ll have it no other way, but I don’t need all that fancy shit. We can shoot down to city hall…”

I roll my eyes, sucking my teeth. “Ooooh goodie,” I say sarcastically, “then head on over to Red Lobster or Cracker Barrel for the reception.”

He laughs. “Whatever, man. Set the damn date already. And stop draggin’ ya damn heels.”

“I’m not,” I say as Stax comes back over to the table with a handful of junk food and two orange sodas. Jasper gets up as he places his chips and whatnot on table.

“Yo, son, what’s good wit’ you?” They embrace.

“Shit. Wassup wit’ you?”

“I’m in prison, nigga.” Jasper laughs. “What the fuck ya dumb-ass think is up with me? I’m jailin’, nigga. I swear…ya moms musta dropped you on that big-ass dome of yours when you were a baby.”

They both laugh, sitting down. “Yo, fuck you, biscuit head.”

“Nigga, I know you ain’t talkin’ with that Herman the Munster forehead of yours.”

They bullshit back and forth for a while before Jasper asks him who was the chick he was talking to. “Oh, that’s Peanut’s sister.” I see Jasper make a face like he’s trying to picture her in his mind.

“Oh, word? Which one?”

“The youngest one.” I’m not sure who they’re talking about. Nor do I care. So I get up and excuse myself. Tell him I’m going to the bathroom. I walk off, but the whole time I’m walking, I can feel Jasper watching me. I bet if I turn around right now, he’ll be eyeing me like a hawk. This nigga doesn’t miss a beat.
And he’s going to be up on any other nigga trying to check for me on the sly. I smile, shaking my head.

When I finish using the bathroom and start walking back toward the table, I can see Jasper has his forearms resting up on the table and he’s leaning forward as if he and Stax are in a deep conversation. When he sees me walking toward them, he sits back in his chair and smiles. And that gesture alone leads me to believe they were either talking about me, or discussing some shit they don’t want me to know. The question is: about what?

I take my seat next to Jasper and he immediately wraps his arm around my waist and kisses me again. “What’s that for?” I ask, almost paranoid.

“Oh, so now I need a reason to kiss you?”

“Not at all,” I say, forcing a smile. This time I kiss him lightly on the lips.

He smiles at me, then looks at Stax. “Yo, man, I love this damn girl right here, you feel me?”

Stax grins, rubbing his chin. “That’s wassup. It’s the kinda love a nigga kills for.” I shift my eyes from Stax, who sneaks a look at me. There’s something in the way he says this that makes me uncomfortable.

Jasper gives him some dap. “No doubt. You already know, son.”

They shift the conversation to their family, with Stax giving him the goings-on with everyone. I tune the discussion out, sweeping my eyes around the room. I fix my gaze over at a chick sitting at the table on the right side of us with her hands under the table, rapidly jerking off her man. I smirk, wondering what she’ll do with his nut once he busts in her hand. Will she discreetly lick her palm and fingers? Or will she waste all that cream and wipe it off in a napkin? I imagine myself under the table, lapping at his balls while she’s jacking him off. The thought causes my mouth to water.

“Aye, yo, what you over there thinkin’ ’bout?” Jasper asks, bumping his shoulder into me. “You look deep in thought.”

“You,” I tell him, turning my attention to him.

He grins. “Yeah, you better be.”

I start to say something slick, but don’t. Instead, I shake my head, smiling. And for the rest of the visit we talk about the salon, the halfway house and the wedding. When the CO’s announce that the visit is over, we get up and say our goodbyes. Jasper kisses me deeply, then squeezes my ass on the sly. Then he and Stax hug and give each other dap.

“Yo, man, keep an eye on her,” he says to Stax.

Stax laughs. “I got you, son.”

“Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Both of you can go to hell.” They laugh. Jasper grabs me by the waist and kisses me again.

“I love you, girl.”

“I love you, too.”

He gives Stax another hug, then gives me another long, deep kiss before walking off to go back to his life behind the wall.

SEVEN

F
lashback. Friday, October, 6, 2000. Shyne’s “Bad Boyz” was the song blaring through the speakers. I was in the middle of the dance floor in my own zone. Eyes closed, hips gyrating, hands and fingers running through my shoulder-length hair. I was a bad bitch wrapped in a pair of skin-tight jeans, a beige poncho and a sexy pair of six-inch Manolo Blahniks on my feet. All eyes on were on me. Several niggas kept trying to get their mack on while dancing with me, but I wasn’t interested. The only thing I wanted to do was mix, mingle, and shake. Not get caught up in some nigga’s dream of getting between my thighs. I hated it when motherfuckers disrupted my groove by trying to have a conversation with me while I’m on the dance floor, yelling in my goddamn ear over the music. It was a major turn off, and grounds for walking off and leaving a nigga standing in the middle of the floor, looking like a fool.

And this particular night was no different when I clicked on my spiked heels and attempted to strut off the dance floor to get away from this annoying peanut head dude who kept trying to spit whack game in my ear. He reminded me of a damn beetle in his Emporio Armani glasses.

I was disgusted and ready to go. And was kicking myself for allowing Mona—a girlfriend of mine, to drag me out that night. The only reason I decided to go is because she had bugged the shit out of me for almost three weeks until I finally agreed. It was
a birthday party her family was throwing for one of her cousins. And she had insisted I go. She had this grand idea about fixing me up with one of her cousins who had recently moved down to Jersey from New Haven, Connecticut.

“Pasha, I’m going to keep bugging you until you say yes,” she stated, sucking her teeth. “You
need
to meet my cousin, girl. So you might as well get your mind right and figure out what the hell you’re going to wear.”

I huffed, eyeing her suspiciously. “Bitch, why are you so interested in
me
meeting him?” I finally asked, exasperated.

“’Cause he’s a real good dude,” she smirked, pausing. Then she added, “And he’s your type.”

“And what’s my type, Miss Know It All?”

She snickered. “Dark, chiseled, and hood.”

I grinned, feigning insult. “Fuck you. If he’s such a good dude, then why isn’t he already dealing with someone?”

She clucked her teeth. “He
was
dealing with someone. But the bitch is a bird. She doesn’t want anything outta life. And he does. All she wants to do is drink and smoke and hang out with her girls. And he wasn’t havin’ it. So he gave her ass the boot. Now he’s lookin’ for somebody he can chill wit’. He asked me if I had any single friends who were about somethin’. And I immediately thought about you.”

“Mmm-hmm, why?”

“’Cause you’re exactly what he’s lookin’ for.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Bitch, you fly—which is why I hangout wit’ ya stuck-up ass…” She laughed. “…You’re sexy, you have a fat ass, and I know underneath all them designer clothes is an undercover freak.”

I laughed with her. “OhmyGod, you’re so damn stupid. Let me find out you like it both ways,” I joked.

“Bitch, please,” she said, cracking up, “wrong answer. That was his request—a fine, fly bitch with a fat ass who wants somethin’ more outta life than runnin’ the streets. And that’s
you
.”

“Hmmph. And he wants all that wrapped up in a freak?”

She chuckled. “Well, no. I mean, maybe.”

I raised my brow. “Bitch, which is it?”

“Neither.” She smirked. “I added the last part as a bonus ’cause I know how nasty he is. And you know how nasty you like it.”

I shot her a look and gave her the finger. “And that makes
me
a freak? Whatever, ho.”

She laughed.

“Ohhhkaaay. So what’s his name?”

“Don’t worry ’bout all that. Make sure you bring ya ass to the party, and you’ll find out everything you need to know then.”

“I’ll think about it,” I finally told her, sucking my teeth. But, in truth, there wasn’t anything that needed to be thought about. It wasn’t like I had a social life or anything. I hadn’t been fucking anyone since my breakup with Glenn—the man who I invested close to three years of my life in. To only find out that the nigga had a wife stationed over in Kuwait. While she was overseas risking her life to serve and protect our country, his black ass was here serving me his thick, pulsing cock. But, trust. The minute I found out, along with getting his face slapped, I abruptly ended it with his lying ass, then sealed my pussy up. I had officially banned myself from men. So meeting someone who might eventually turn out to be another lying ass, no-count nigga was the last thing on my mind. And it definitely wasn’t something I was looking forward to.

So when I turned on my seven-hundred-dollar heels to strut toward the bar, and over to where Mona was—perched up on a barstool with a frosty drink in her hand, like I wanted to be—I
was slightly annoyed when some nigga grabbed me gently by the forearm, pulling me back to the floor. “Dance with me,” he said over the music. There was something in the way he pulled me that made my pussy muscles shiver. It was strong, yet firm and gentle. In that brief moment, electricity shot through my arm. Not too mention he was fine; no, fine isn’t the right word. He was D-I-V-I-N-E. Still, his touch was unwanted and unacceptable.

I frowned; stared him down, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “No thanks.”

“C’mon, pretty baby, one dance.” He pulled in his bottom lip, real sexy-like, then added, “Please.”