Double Dippin' (15 page)

When she saw him, her expression hardened.

“What is it, Tariq?”

“Janelle, just tell me what I have to do. I’ll do anything you tell me to do. Anything!”

“Tariq,” she said calmly. “Please leave my office. That’s what I want you to do.”

But instead of leaving he marched over to the desk and fell down on his knees. “I’m begging you, Janelle. I swear to God, if you give me another chance, I’ll do anything for you.” He noticed a glimmer of interest in Janelle’s eyes, though her face remained hard and stern. The gleam in her eyes gave him hope, so he took the begging to a higher level. “Baby please; I worship and adore you.” He kissed the toe of her black Reebok.

“Get up, Tariq. I’ll forgive you this time, but our relationship is definitely going to change. You’re going to have to make some serious adjustments.”

He got up. “Okay, whatever you say…you know I’ll do it.”

“Come here,” she said and whispered in his ear. Shocked by the words she whispered in his ear, bug-eyed, he nodded his head in agreement.

“So, you’ll take care of that tomorrow, right?”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll do it. But I don’t know where to get that stuff.”

“In the women’s lingerie department of any department store.”

“Should I go to the mall?”

“I don’t care where you go; just make sure you get it. Oh yeah, and until you do what I asked, don’t expect me to walk you home.”

Tariq bit his lip and nodded. “Can I call you tonight?”

“No!”

Paling and looking distraught, he said bravely, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tariq took slow steps toward the door, hoping Janelle would call him back, show him some affection, something, anything that would relieve some of the emotional pain, the feeling of abandonment that was strangling him.

The next day at work, Tariq was filled with shame. He lowered his eyes in embarrassment when anyone—co-workers or customers—looked at him for longer than a few seconds. He felt like everyone knew his secret. His terrible shame. But he had to do it. He loved Janelle and needed her. She’d told him this was the only way he could prove his love and get her back.

After two hours of being ignored by her, she finally called him into her office.

“Take off your shirt and drop your pants.”

His face turned crimson as he pulled his shirt up, revealing a red lacy bra.

Janelle leaped out of her seat and helped him to unbuckle his pants. His pants fell and gathered on the floor. He had on a pair of shimmering red panties.

“Damn, Tariq! You look so good in women’s underwear; I’m ready to suck your dick right now. I love you, boy, and I forgive you for everything. Now I truly believe that you love me. You really love me, don’t you, baby?”

“Love you? I worship the ground you walk on. I told you I’d do anything for you,” Tariq told her, his eyes misted with emotion.

His growing erection slipped through the side of the red panties. Janelle’s eyes slid over to his exposed member. Overcome with lust, Janelle hastily dropped to her knees and gave Tariq some well-deserved head.

Despite the tight and uncomfortable fit of the lingerie, Tariq whistled merrily for the remaining hours of his shift. He was thrilled that his compliance had given Janelle so much pleasure, but he was also relieved that he didn’t have to wear the confining female undergarments ever again.

After work, during their walk to his house, Janelle announced, “Tariq, I want us to pick out your lingerie together. Okay? You’re off punishment and you don’t have to make any more choices on your own.”

Tariq looked stunned. “I thought you said I only had to wear this stuff one time—today!”

“No, Tariq,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “I want you to wear the lingerie a couple days a week.”

“But…” Tariq weakly objected.

“Tariq!” Janelle’s tone was harsh. Tariq fell silent. “Do you know how hot my pussy feels right now?” she asked in a soft sultry voice. “I’m furious that we can’t fuck right now. But you and that damn curfew…” Janelle stopped walking. “I have an idea. We could do it over there.” She pointed to a desolate playground. “Behind the bushes.”

In the playground, Tariq and Janelle lowered themselves on the ground behind the bushes. “Take off your shirt,” Janelle demanded, holding out her hand.

Tariq unbuttoned and took off his shirt. Janelle licked her lips at the sight of the frilly red bra he wore. She spread his shirt on the ground and kneeled upon it on all fours. “Do you want to fuck me right here—outside?”

“Uh huh.” Tariq’s tongue hung from his mouth lustfully. He panted like a dog.

“You like wearing panties for me, baby?” Janelle asked, her breathing quickened.

“Yeah.” Tariq gave a throaty groan as he mounted Janelle and slipped inside her from behind.

Janelle murmured and moaned. “Oh damn, you feel so good tonight. Fuck me like you mean it. Harder, Tariq. That’s right, fuck me harder. Damn, we’re outside, baby—fucking like animals. Let’s pretend like we’re dogs,” she shouted in wanton abandon.

All the pent-up passion, the pain and fear of abandonment from everyone he’d ever loved came out in a growl very similar to the sound of a dog. He pushed in hard.

“Bark, Tariq. Bark for me, baby. Bark just like a dog.”

Tariq barked for Janelle.

“Louder, baby,” she insisted. “Bark like you mean it.”

With every thrust, he barked, he growled, he snarled. When he reached a howling climax, Tariq collapsed on the ground. With his hands wrapped tightly around Janelle’s waist, Tariq broke down and sobbed.

“I’m pregnant,” Janelle said, nonchalantly.

“What!” A big grin covered Tariq’s face. Then he noticed Janelle looking pensive. “This is a happy occasion, right? Because I’m ready to start handing out cigars to everybody here,” he said, waving his hands at the patrons and staff at McDonald’s. “I wanna load up on cigars and pass them out to my classmates at school—to strangers on the street. How come you don’t look happy?”

“I’m happy; I’m just a little worried about how we’re going to support a child.”

“I can work overtime,” Tariq suggested.

“How? You have to go to school.”

“Sundays; I’ll work on my day off and a couple extra hours during the week.”

Janelle added Tariq’s name to the Sunday schedule and also gave him additional hours during the week.

Tariq was more than happy to work the extra hours. With a baby on the way, he and Janelle could use all the money they could get. Tariq was so happy and so proud, he wished he could share the news with Shane. But Janelle hadn’t forgiven Shane, therefore, Tariq was forbidden to speak to his brother.

The pain of losing his brother had dulled over time. Janelle had miraculously filled a void that he didn’t think possible to fill. She’d rescued him from the loneliness that was a sad echo of his past. Janelle provided everything he needed, he convinced himself, as he mentally pushed away the pain of losing his twin brother.

“No one needs to know about this, especially not your foster parents,” she’d
said, referring to the pregnancy. “You’re still underage. We’ll wait until you turn eighteen.”

On countless occasions, Janelle had proven that she knew what was best for him and he would not second-guess her decision now. If she thought it best to keep the pregnancy a secret, he had to trust her judgment.

“Nine months from now…when the baby is born, you’ll be eighteen and you can get out from under your foster parents’ thumb.”

“Can I get out from under your thumb?” he asked playfully.

Janelle gave a mirthless chuckle. “Now you know that’s never going to happen. Tariq,” she said, looking serious, “you’re under my thumb for life.”

“Sounds good to me; I don’t have a problem with it, baby. You know you’re the boss.” Tariq was proud to be under Janelle’s control. He lived to please her. After the experience of being banished from her life, he tried to anticipate her every need and continued, at her insistence, to wear female lingerie several times a week. The bra, however, was so uncomfortable, she no longer forced him to wear it in public.

“Keeping you in women’s panties or glittery female thongs is my assurance that you’ll keep your dick where it belongs—in your pants. I know you’re not gonna be cheating on me when you got a pair of red panties on,” she’d told him.

“I don’t care what I’m wearing; I’ll never cheat on you,” Tariq told her.

And now that she was carrying his child, he cherished Janelle even more. Cheating on her was unimaginable. No other woman attracted him. He was devoted to Janelle. For Tariq, his relationship with Janelle was perfectly normal and heavenly bliss.

He’d been trained to rely on her good judgment in every way. He didn’t object to signing his paycheck over to her. It seemed perfectly within the boundaries of normalcy to go to Janelle for everything from money for school tokens to school supplies. The pocket money she allotted him had to be accounted for down to the dime.

She told him he didn’t need any friends; all he needed was her. He believed her because friends don’t provide the type of sex that Janelle lavished upon him. Freaky sex that he’d never would have thought of in his wildest dreams.
Her imagination was unlimited. Without her good sex, Tariq thought he would die.

On occasion, she still doled out punishment, but it was minor compared to the pain he’d felt when he’d almost lost her. He could accept any punishment she dispensed as long as she didn’t turn her back on him and send him away.

The baby was his insurance that Janelle would never reject him again.

“We’re going to get married on your eighteenth birthday; nothing elaborate. They do ceremonies down at city hall.”

“Did you say we’re getting married?” he asked in awe.

“Uh huh. Gotta problem with that,” she asked, smiling.

Ecstatic, Tariq picked her up and swung her around.

“Put me down, boy,” she said, laughing. “You might hurt the baby.”

In her fourth month of pregnancy, Janelle, feeling feverish, her fingers and ankles swollen, had to leave work early to go home and lie down. Tariq wanted to leave with her, but she told him he had to stay. They couldn’t afford to have both their paychecks docked.

Immediately after work, Tariq hurried to Janelle’s house.

“She’s upstairs ’sleep,” her mother told him. “Go on up.”

Tariq bounded the stairs and found his angel sound asleep. Defiantly refusing to adhere to his curfew, he called his foster mother.

“Mrs. Packard, Janelle is sick and I’m staying with her tonight.” He wasn’t asking permission, therefore being told no wasn’t an option. Mrs. Packard mumbled a few discontented words and then said, “Okay, well, make sure you get to school on time.”

He took off his clothes and hung them in the closet. It was Tuesday, one of the days he was allowed to wear boxers. He folded them neatly, and then crawled into bed with Janelle, rubbing her cute round stomach until he too fell asleep.

In the morning, Janelle was running a temperature. Her feet and fingers were grotesquely swollen. “My head hurts,” she cried. Tariq was flabbergasted;
he’d never seen Janelle cry. She moaned and rolled back in forth in pain. “My head is killing me, Tariq.”

He massaged her temples. Her face was burning hot. Something had to be done but he didn’t know what to do. Janelle’s mother had already left for work, so it was up to Tariq to figure out something. “Should we call your doctor?”

“Oh God, my head. Oh God.” Janelle grabbed her head and balled into a knot.

“What’s your doctor’s number, Janelle?” He was panicked and had never assumed any responsibility.

She pointed to a phone book. “It’s under V—Doctor Vaughn. Hurry up, I’m dying, Tariq.”

He tried to squeeze her fingers soothingly while he fumbled with the pages in her phone book. Her fingers felt fat and hot—like sausages about to pop.

When he got the receptionist on the line, he gave Janelle a reassuring glance. “My girl is having a baby; she’s hot and everything is swelling up. Her head hurts, too,” he babbled.

The receptionist asked for Janelle’s information, beginning with her name.

“Oh, her name? It’s Janelle Dennis. How many months? Um…four. Do we have a thermometer? No, we don’t have one, but I’m feeling her head and her temperature’s gotta be sky high.”