Insanity

Insanity

A BIG BAD DRAMA

by

Omar Tyree

Also By Omar Tyree

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Leslie, Just Say No!

For The Love of Money, Sweet St. Louis

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Flyy Girl

The Urban Griot Series

Cold Blooded

One Crazy Night

Capital City

College Boy

Anthologies

Dirty Old Men and Other Stories

Dark Thirst

Not In My Family

The Game

Proverbs of the People

Tough Love; The Life and Death of Tupac Shakur

Testimony

Ebony Chronicles of Elevation

Children’s Books

12 Brown Boys

Business Books

The Equation; Applying the 4 Indisputable Components of Business Success

Insanity

Copyright (c) 2011 by Omar Tyree

Dedicated

to the visionary artists

who may be forced

in times of darkness

and desperation

to choose from starving

with moral conviction

to eating

well

with rationalized guilt.

I challenged myself

to look over the edge

while afraid of falling.

But then I got used to it

to the point where

I invited the thrill

of no return

until

I fell over

for real.

And I could no longer climb back up.

The Edge of Insanity

By Omar Tyree

Insanity

We are all just one step away.

Over The Edge

A Prologue

September  2011

S
tanley Bradshaw sat comfortably at the foot of the king-sized hotel bed and nodded. It was a medium level room, not too fancy, but more than bare budget. And the only light inside the room was from the opened blinds at the window.

“So umm . . . you really wanna do this?”

Stanley looked over at Queen Tillis-Thompson. She stood between him and the 27-inch color television set, fidgeting. She was still trying to make up her mind.

She eyed him and said, “If I had a choice, no. But I don’t
have
a choice, do I?”

She looked down at Stanley’s massive head and hulking shoulders in a plea for mercy. He wore a clean white dress shirt and dark slacks with no tie. But he ignored her plea with a grin and a chuckle.

“Naw, you got a choice. We
all
got choices. You don’t have to do what you don’t wanna do. You a grown-ass woman.”

Queen eyed his pearly white teeth and boyish smile. Stan “The Man” had obviously maintained his youthful look and chiseled football frame from their high school days, more than twenty years. They called him “The Man” back then because of his overgrown body and vicious hits, and it rhymed with his first name. But as he had stated, they were both
grown
now, and it was new day and time.

“Does that mean you’ll still give that to me if I don’t do this?”

Queen had to at least ask him. She stood there before him in her teal shirt, short new haircut, and curvaceous blue jeans. Stan even thought about it . . . for a
minute
. Then he shook his head with the verdict. He had been waiting far too long to feel himself slipping and sliding inside of her firm, cheerleader legs. Now her body was fuller, curvier and more enticing for the preference of a grown man.

“I mean . . . would you still be here with me if I didn’t have anything to offer you?”

They were playing a cat and mouse game now. But Stanley really wanted to know how she felt. Ever since his junior year at Baltimore Township High School, he had fantasized and masturbated with Queenie on his mind. That was what they called
her
back then, “Queenie.” She had carried herself with the regal authority of her name. She was a freshman heartbreaker on the cheerleading squad and all of the jocks and playboys wanted her.

She paused to think about her response to him, while standing there in silent frustration. Her life had come down to this, a confidential adult transaction in a dark hotel room, and her hesitancy was only wasting time. However, if she would have liked him more, it could have made the situation easier to swallow. But as it was, and he was only fulfilling a dire need.

The feeling was mutual. Stanley needed to purge himself of Queen’s torturous memories, and how she had turned down his advances in high school.

“I don’t like you like that.”

Her innocent teenaged words continued to burn his ears, even as a grown man. And when Quentin Sparrow, the starting senior quarterback, bragged inside of the boys’ locker room before practice, all about her good, tight, virgin pussy, Stan’s young heart jumped into his throat and choked him into tears of envy.

Adding insult to injury, the older cheerleaders confirmed it all with their corny chanting and teasing;
“Quentin and Queenie / hot and steamy / oh, so dreamy / made her creamy . . .”

There was no way in a frozen
hell
that Stanley would let her off the hook now. He had her right where he wanted her, broken down, desperate and needful.

Queen took a mature, deep breath to calm herself before accepting her fate. What goes around comes around.

She shrugged. “All right, well, let’s do what we’re here to do then.”

She reached up behind her shirt and unclipped her bra.

Stanley sat there and watched her peel out of her dark blue jeans, revealing black silk panties. He grinned like a lustful bachelor at a strip club. He smiled so hard, you would think he had a hundred singles in his pocket to make it rain. But a hundred singles was not enough to get Queen excited, not even as a
tip
. She needed
big
money, and this man had it at his discretion.

Speaking of money, Queen made certain their business exchange was clearly understood.

“So, you are gonna write me a check, give me cash or what?”

He frowned, irritated by her abrupt question. Why would she even break the groove by asking him that?

He nodded and was abrasive in his response. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

She hesitated, annoyed by his tone. He still hadn’t answered the question; cash or check?

I swear, if his ass tries to . . .

Queen stopped her hasty thoughts. A negative reaction would only make her change her mind. But she wanted to go through with it because she needed the money. Her
children
needed the money. And she wanted to keep them safe and sound with her. So she stopped her stalling and stripped butt naked, feeling foolish but
proud
; proud that she would do anything for the benefit of her three kids.

“All right, are you just gonna sit there or what?”
Let’s get this shit over with,
she thought.

She wanted to rush the whole process, like a hooker with five more John’s waiting. Slow ass made slow money. But Stan “The Man” was calling the shots now, and as far as he was concerned, she on
his
time. So he relaxed, determined to enjoy every minute of it.

Let’s me see how bad she wants this money,
he pondered.

He pointed to the floor in front of him and stood up, just long enough to undo his pants, with no draws on. When he sat back down at the foot of the bed, he allowed his raging hard-on to throb at sixty degrees West and raining.

He was still grinning when he addressed her. “I’ve been waiting a
lonnng
time for this.”

Queen looked at him as if he was crazy. “First of all, you need some
protection
. And if you don’t have it, I have my
own
. Second of all, there is no amount of money in this
world
that’s gonna make me do
that
with
you
.”

Not only was the man shamelessly dripping to the carpet, but his dark brown Johnson looked big enough to break her damn
jaw
. She even wondered if she had enough width and length in her coochie to deal with him.

Stanley asked her calmly, “Did you do it for your husband? Or is it just my
size
that scares you? Your husband probably wasn’t packing it like this, right?”

He didn’t even address the protection part. Who gives blow jobs over a condom but hookers? So he didn’t plan to spend time arguing about it.

Queen snapped, “Whatever I did with my
deceased
husband is none of your damn business.”

She was being audacious for a woman in desperate need of hard cash. Beggars can’t be choosers. However, Stan was being a little flagrant himself, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Queen’s angst made him more excited. Now she could feel what
he
felt for so many years.

He laughed and said, “Yeah, you still the same
Queenie
, all right. No matter what, you’re  still in here dictating shit. Your momma sure named you right. But you gon’ get a mouthful tonight.”

Queen paused for the last time to rethink everything.

This asshole still wants payback from our high school days! How fucking juvenile can you be?

She grabbed her clothes from the floor in a flash and began to redress. “You know what? You win. This is ridiculous. I’ll find another way to get what I need.”

“Are you
sure
?”

He sounded as if he was genuinely concerned for a second. She stopped to read his face and make sure. But when she looked, he maintained his silly-ass grin, unnerving her. He
couldn’t
have been serious.

“Do you think this is a fucking
joke
?” she ranted. “My whole damn
life
is falling apart, and you think this is a damn
game
? How
could you
?”

She threw her shirt and bra into his face,
enraged
, while wishing she had something more solid
and heavy to throw, like a damn bowling ball. Then the tears of frustration began to flow down her face.

“I don’t
believe
this. I don’t
believe
it
.” But yet her burden was
real
. She was at the economic mercy of a man who had not even seen her in a dozen years.

Stan was shocked into silence for a moment. But that didn’t mean he was sympathetic to her struggles.
She should have thought of all this when she was treating everybody else bad. I guess she thought she was gonna get away with it all.

Nevertheless, a deal was a deal. So he backed down from his past ire and decided to have a little heart.

“Aw’ight, I apologize for that. I went a little overboard. I mean, but . . . you gave
me
a lot to cry about
too
.”

Queen looked into his softened face and deciphered his humanity. She saw the overgrown, but still young and fragile football player, who had held a high school crush on her. And in his moment of vulnerable reflection, she had to admit to her past wrongs, not only with Stan, but with a number of people who had crossed her path. 

He was
right
. She had been far from perfect, but so had everyone else. No one was without flaws. Nevertheless, in her moment of revelation, Queen felt that she was being forced to start all over again and to repent with
Stanley
Bradshaw
of
all
people.

If this is what I need to do to get my life back . . . ?