Double Dippin' (10 page)

“She ain’t home,” her mother said through the intercom.

“I know, Miss Goldie. LaDonna told me to check on you.”

“Check on me? For what?” Her voice crackled over the intercom.

“To see if you needed anything done around the house or something from the store.”

“Since when did that trifling girl get so considerate? All right, come on in. Let’s see if I can find something for you to do.” The buzzer sounded and Shane eagerly pushed the door open.

Miss Goldie was looking too damn good in a long cotton dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Big dangling gold earrings with her name set in the middle bobbed back and forth as she walked back into the living room after opening the door. She had about six or seven gold chains of various lengths hanging from her neck. Gold bracelets dangled from both wrists, and gold and diamond rings decorated her fingers. Her hair was medium length and streaked blonde. Actually, it was more gold in color than blonde.

Miss Goldie took her name seriously, Shane decided. But it was cool. She was cool. And she had a helluva body as well as a pretty face.

LaDonna looked a lot like her mother, but LaDonna was nothing more than a replica. Shane found the original version to be more mature, more confident, and much sexier. LaDonna now seemed like a little girl with no sex appeal at all. She was cute and everything, but her mom had it going on.

Miss Goldie had a round, swollen ass and big bouncy tits. Shane would have been happy to just sit and stare at the good-looking woman for hours on end.

“So whatchu want me to do?”

“Do you know where LaDonna keeps that drug dealer’s stash?”

“Um…what?”

“Don’t play dumb. Where’s the reefer at?”

“Oh!
That
stash.”

“Yeah, I know damn well you don’t think I’d be messing around with no crack.” Goldie curled her upper lip in disgust. Shane was transfixed. Even with her mouth held in a lopsided position, he had to admit…Miss Goldie had
sexy lips. She shook a cigarette out of a pack. Just watching her put that cigarette in her mouth was fascinating. And stimulating.

With the quick flick of a lighter, she took a puff, making her lips a round and inviting circle as she blew out puffs of smoke.

“LaDonna better not touch no crack either. I let her keep small amounts of his product here because that drug dealer pays real well. He gets her hair and nails done and buys her designer clothes, which make it easy on my pocket-book.” Goldie narrowed her eyes in thought. “But I’m not too sure I like her working for him at his ice cream parlor. Hmph. That place ain’t nothing but a front. I told her, if she gets caught up in a drug bust, don’t call me.”

“She keeps the reefer in an empty box of tampons,” Shane interjected.

Goldie broke out in a grin. “Damn, that’s a smart little bitch. I must have taught her well.” Goldie went in LaDonna’s room and came back with what looked to be damn near a half-ounce of weed.

Shane’s eyes widened at the large amount she’d stolen. He and LaDonna were very cautious about the amounts they pinched off, always careful not to take enough for Easy to notice.

“Yeah and…” she challenged, rotating her pretty neck. Shit, everything about the woman was beautiful, Shane decided with a lustful sigh.

“Nothing; it ain’t my stuff.” Shane held up both hands in surrender. The gesture also implied that he wasn’t involved if the shit hit the fan.

“This ain’t LaDonna’s house,” Goldie said, pursing her full and luscious lips. “Let that drug-dealin’ nigga come see me if he got a problem with anything.”

Miss Goldie talked a lot of trash; Shane liked that. He liked everything about her. Using Top paper, she rolled an old-fashioned joint, puffed twice, and passed. Shane was honored but wished she were passing him a blunt.

“You drink beer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But I guess they won’t serve you at the deli, huh?”

“Uh huh,” he said in protest. “They serve me. You know I don’t look my age,” he said as he smoothed the silky hair on his upper lip.

“All right,” she said, smiling. “Go get us a six-pack of Bud.” She went toward her pocketbook.

“I got it! Shane said, refusing to take her money.

“Aw shit. Check out the young buck. Don’t tell me Easy got you working for him?”

“No. I don’t even know Easy. I get money from the state.”

“Whatchu mean?”

“Well, I’m in foster care, so the state has to give me money every month,” he said, lying again.

“I thought they paid the people that took care of you. I didn’t know they gave the kids money, too. Hey, that’s a sweet deal.”

“Yeah, they give you money after you turn thirteen.”

“How old are you now?”

“Sixteen.” He was lying so much, he’d be in deep shit if his name was Pinocchio.

“Hmph. I need to think about getting me a foster child. Maybe I wouldn’t have to work so many shifts.” Goldie went into deep thought, and then reminded Shane to go get the beer.

When he came back they smoked four joints and drank all six cans of beer. Everything he said was hilarious and everything she said made him laugh so hard it hurt his sides. He had more fun with Miss Goldie than he’d ever had with her daughter. She was just the type of woman he needed.

Feeling the effects of the weed, Goldie curled up on the sofa and dreamily closed her eyes.

Shane stared at her, totally captivated. She was beautiful in every way. The way she was curled up exaggerated the roundness of her ass. He couldn’t resist touching it. He scooted closer. What the hell—all she could do was cuss at him and tell him to get the fuck out.

So he took a chance and softly caressed her round ass, making circular motions that he discovered turned Miss Goldie on. He knew she liked it because she started smiling with her eyes closed.

Growing a little bolder, he tugged on the long dress. Inch by inch he pulled it up until he was looking at her bare ass. No panties. Just a pretty brown-skinned ass. Round like a basketball. Something strange came over him. Miss Goldie didn’t budge when he dropped to his knees and started placing kisses
everywhere, even the crack of her ass. She moaned and turned over, smiled with her eyes still closed, and said, “That’s enough for now.” She rose up and looked at the clock. “It’s time for you to go home.”

“Why?” Shane felt desperate. His desire for her consumed him.

Her eyes showed amusement. “You need to go because I might be too much for you.”

“I can handle it. I’m a big boy with lots of experience. Why don’t you give me a chance, Miss Goldie. Please?” Shane didn’t mind begging.

“Say pretty please.”

“Pretty please,” he gladly repeated.

“Do you eat pussy?” she asked nonchalantly.

He didn’t. Hadn’t planned on it, but today was a good time to start.

“If you ain’t planning on going down south,” she continued, “there ain’t no point in wasting my time.”

“Yeah, I eat it,” he quickly assured her.

“Aw, you’re a liar. Tell the truth. You know your young ass ain’t never been down south.”

“I said I did.” He looked down uncomfortably.

“Whose pussy you eat? I hope it wasn’t LaDonna’s little stinkin’ twat.”

“Hell no!” He grimaced, feeling genuine disgust.

“Okay, well, show me how you do it.” Goldie wiggled to the edge of the couch, pulled up her dress, and opened her legs.

Shane got down on his knees and pressed his face between her legs. She promptly clamped his head with her knees. He was locked in. A command performance was expected.

His strong desire to please her turned him into a skilled master. Without a bit of practice or any kind of experience giving oral sex, Shane’s tongue found its way inside and began to slowly, lovingly suck on the dark forbidden flesh. He licked and sucked as if he’d been tonguing twat for years.

He’d stop every few moments and talk to her using a husky voice, hitting her with a long stream of sex talk that had her humming in sexual excitement. “I’m loving this sweet pussy…damn, you taste good…you done turned me out and I might not want to fuck no more. I might be satisfied just sucking your pussy all day…all night long.”

Extremely aroused, Goldie said, “Take off your pants and sit over there.” She pointed to a dining room chair.

Reluctantly, he stopped licking and did as he was told. She was right behind him and straddled him the moment he sat down. Taking the role of aggressor, she fucked him like she was the man. With their bodies still attached, Shane suddenly stood up. Goldie wrapped her legs around his waist while her torso and head hung low to the floor.

In that strange position, Shane’s long penis found its way to her secret place—a hidden place that Goldie didn’t even know existed. In her thirty-five years, she must have had thousands of orgasms, but never, ever had a dick touch that particular spot. Shane could feel it, too. The area was soft and delicate; it felt like his dick might break through. So instead of banging it hard like he wanted to, he took it slow. Pushing against the soft spot gently. His dick didn’t travel to other areas; he kept it pressed against her spot. Goldie didn’t thrust or buck either. She must have felt the same way because, although she remained upside-down, her pelvis didn’t rotate. Tightening her legs around his waist was the only movement she made.

But the lack of frantic movement didn’t stop either from howling like wolves.

Finally ready to bust a nut, Shane walked her back over to the couch. He pulled out, she tried to pull him back in, but he insisted on doing it his way—doggy-style. He wanted to see that big ass bounce. Bad mistake; it was too much for him. “Hurry up, baby,” he pleaded. “Get yours, because I’m about to bust.”

Goldie tightened her vaginal muscles and pushed back, enabling her clit to rub against the base of his dick. She came with a piercing scream. He groaned when he shot his load.

“Did you like it?” she asked, using a brand-new tone. A tone that sounded demure and sweet. The tone of a satisfied woman. A woman who definitely was going to want some more. If not today, then sometime soon. Shane could feel it; and he wanted her, too. But she told him he had to leave; LaDonna would be coming home soon.

LaDonna was turning into Regent Street when she saw Shane exit her block and make a left on Fifty-Third. “Shane!” She called his name, but he didn’t hear her.

It was amazing what a little competition could do. Now that she was busy working at the ice cream parlor, LaDonna thought, Shane must have realized how much he missed her. She missed him, too! She called him in a stronger voice, running as she yelled his name. But by the time she got to the corner, Shane was long gone—out of sight.

Her shoulders heaved in disappointment and frustration. Oh well, she’d try to catch up with him tomorrow. Easy had let her get off early so she could bag up some product. He’d be coming to pick it up in a couple hours.

The smell of alcohol was not only on Ms. Holmes’s breath, the strong scent reeked throughout the entire house.

The odor irritated Tariq; it made him feel sick to his stomach. But the queasy feeling was not caused by the stench of alcohol alone. Tariq was also heartsick. His girlfriend, Shiree, had gone to Wildwood, New Jersey, with her parents on a two-week vacation. Tariq had yet to receive a letter or even a postcard. It seemed Shane had abandoned Tariq as well. He was never home; sometimes he stayed out all night.

Ms. Holmes just wasn’t herself anymore. She didn’t cook or clean like she used to. The only thing that hadn’t changed was her daily Bible reading. Sipping a glass of gin while reading the Good Book, Ms. Holmes, drunk as a skunk, would mutter curse words directed at Satan as she angrily turned each page. With the Bible in her hands she would stagger around the home, bumping into the TV, tables, and chairs.

Watching her stumble around, Tariq shook his head. It was as if the town drunk had gotten hold of the key to his foster mother’s once lovely home, moved in, and tore up the place.

On the social worker’s next scheduled visit, Shane wasn’t home, and his whereabouts were unknown. The house was a wreck and Ms. Holmes, unfortunately, was too pissy drunk to give the woman a coherent explanation. Her words were jumbled and she kept repeating a Bible passage.

The social worker scowled at Ms. Holmes. Her expression clearly indicated that she felt the Batista brothers were living in an unfit home.

“We’re going to have to remove the boys from your residence, Ms. Holmes, and place them in emergency care. Where can we find Shane?” the social worker inquired, her lips pursed, her eyebrows knitted together.

Ms. Holmes was too drunk to comprehend the situation and Tariq was too petrified to speak. He couldn’t go anywhere without Shane. But he didn’t know where his brother was. Shane gave vague and mysterious responses regarding his social life.

Tariq feared his brother was selling drugs, but he would die before he’d give the social worker even a hint as to the places where Shane liked to hang. Feeling like he was being arrested, Tariq accompanied the social worker to her car.

“We’ll send a county employee to collect your personal items,” she assured Tariq.