Hittin' the Bricks: An Urban Erotic Tale (9 page)

Thank you, baby. Thank you.

But it wasn't just the sex that had Eva open on Ice Mello. He was a total package and he knew it would take more than good dick to win Eva's heart. Mello was sensuous and protective at the same time. He had this way of coming up behind her and holding her close that just blew her mind. He would reach down and scoop her up from her ankles all the way up to her tiny waist. His big strong arms would encircle her breasts as he sheltered her from behind, and this made her feel safe and sexy all at once.

For Eva, sex had finally come to mean love and security instead of fear and pain, and with a man like Mello giving up good dick and good loving, her body and her mind were both completely satisfied.

F
iyah sat on his bunk waiting. He was amped, and every muscle in his body was ready for movement. He'd spent almost nine months waiting for this day and when he heard the heavy footsteps of the COs on the tier, the sound was like music in his ears.

The guards’ boots fell into a rhythm. A beat developed in Fiyah's mind and he nodded his head to it. His cell door slid open and that's when his mental music began.

Fiyah grinned inside. There were two types of time an inmate could do. Good time and bad time. Fiyah's time had been all good. Free from all the predatory shit that goes on in the pen, Fiyah had dedicated every spare moment to perfecting his grind. He had refocused on his
goal as an artist and a performer, and he'd built up mad confidence that he had what it took to become a major powerhouse in the rap industry. He had the skills. All he needed was the means and the opportunity and the world would be his.

“Let's go, Perez.” Two guards had come to lead Fiyah out, and both of them were rookies.

Stepping out of his cell was just like stepping off the edge of the world. Fiyah was entering a new universe. One that he was ready to completely own, and that shit felt good.

He walked down the tier harder than a muhfuckah. With the guards flanking him on both sides, Fiyah imagined that he was walking past the ropes at Bricks, and the COs were his personal bodyguards.

Fantasy images played out in his mind, blocking out all reality. Instead of cold-blooded criminals hanging out on the tier, he saw ballers chilling in booths. Phat-assed waitresses with jig-gly titties. Delivering Cristal and Krug on silver trays. Down at the command station, Fiyah saw a stage. That shit was just a crawling with half-naked pole dancers. The fantasy intensified and Fiyah was up on the stage. Music was blaring and the crowd was wildin as Fiyah spit some of the most prolific shit these industry insiders had ever heard.

“Sign here,” said a requisitions guard. He passed Fiyah a brown envelope containing the personal property he'd had on him the night he got knocked. Fiyah felt like he was in a music video. He saw the guard as a bartender. Serving him a drink.

Reality hit him as soon as they opened the door. The bright summer morning hollered at him as he stepped on free ground for the first time in almost a year.

“You be good now,” one of the guards told him before closing the gate.

Fiyah nodded. “I'm always good.”

He rode a prison bus over the bridge from Rikers Island. Halfway over, he spotted another bus. It was full of inmates heading toward The Rock. Fiyah rubbed his eyes and sighed, happy as fuck that he was traveling in the opposite direction.

Fiyah got off the bus on the Queens side of the bridge and stood with the prison at his back. New York had never looked so fuckin’ good. Walking along the sidewalk behind a couple of other cats who had just been released, he was about to look for a bus or subway and head to Harlem when a black extended-version Escalade with sparkling spinners rolled up.

Fiyah froze as the driver's- side window started inching down.

Some square- faced bitch who looked like a dude nodded at him and said, “What's good, ak?”

Fiyah looked past the dyke driver and his chest tightened when he saw who was in the back.

“Get in.”

Goddamn! Fiyahs heart banged hard. He'd been hoping the one- month head start Brody had on him woulda dulled that niggah's memories but obviously it hadn't. Brody had been hyped about getting with Eva before leaving The Rock.

“Listen, man,” he'd told Fiyah. “I got a whole lotta bitches on a long rope, but a chick like your cousin could be my queen. She's perfect, man. I wanna put her on a fuckin’ pedestal and worship that phat ass, man. You get in her ear and make that shit happen, and I promise I'll make her a happy bitch. That's what's real.”

Fiyah wasn't banking on none of that, but he'd figured once Brody hit the bricks there'd be so many fine- ass honeys strolling the streets of Harlem that he'd forget all about Eva and be gobbling up sweet young bitches like they was multiflavored Skittles.

He stared into the car. Brody's head was gleaming and his eyes were like ice.

“Get in, muhfuckah.”

That shit wasn't a request. It was an order.

Fiyah opened the back door and got in.

K
ing Brody was a large nig. His custom whip smelled like new leather and the interior had been redesigned so the middle row of seats faced the back row—like in a limo.

Fiyah slid into the middle row and sat facing Brody and two fine- ass chicks. There was a dude sitting on Fiyah's left. He nodded at the guy and dude just grilled him. He was a big cat too, almost as big as Brody. Matter fact they kinda looked alike, and Fiyah figured they was prolly brothers or cousins.

He looked all the way left and saw another chick. A Latina. She was leaning against the window holding a frosty can of beer to her breast and looking whipped.

Brody grinned, and reached out for a dap.

“You done touched down, man.”

Some guy sitting in the front passenger seat lit a blunt. Skimming Fiyah's head with the lit end, he reached over and passed it to Brody.

That shit had come way too close, but Fiyah forced himself to chill like his ear wasn't hot and nothing was up. “Yeah, it took a minute to get outta there, nahmean? They quick as fuck to lock you down but slow when it's time to let you go.”

“Yo.” Brody grinned, touching his chest. “Who the fuck am I? I ain't no fuckin body. I ain't got no problem waiting for the next Daddy Yankee, my man.”

Fiyah had been hearing that Daddy Yankee comparison the
whole time he was locked up. Even under the present circumstances that shit still puffed him up with pride.

“Thanks, man,” he said, his voice low.

“Nah,” Brody said real loud, putting Fiyah's shit on blast. “That's the truth, man. Yo,” he spoke to his posse. “This dude was spittin’ crack when we was on that tier. His shit is airtight. That's what's up.”

Suddenly Brody's mood changed. “Rolo,” he ordered his female driver. Fiyah glanced back. The gay chick looked scary. Like she fucked from the top and slung big balls. “Get us the fuck outta here.”

They rode through the streets of Queens, heading toward the highway.

“So what's poppin’, son?” Brody asked. “What kinda trouble you tryna get into?”

Fiyah shrugged. “I'ma prolly try to get at a couple of dollas, hit some skin, get in the booth and lay a few tracks … Gotta fuck with my PO …”

Brody waved. “Fuck that PO shit. Don't stress about that muhfuckah. He gotta catch you before he can send you back. The gwap ain't a issue, neither. We put in work around here and we bank plenty of cheese. But your sounds, man, that's the key. That's what's gonna take you all the way, yo. And don't sweat that gushy neither. We swimmin in women. You want some quick head, you can tap Charlene here. That's what this old bitch is for.”

He turned to a girl in a yellow dress.

“Yo, how old is you anyway?”

She pushed out her big chest and sat up straight. “I just turned twenty-one.”

Brody laughed, and mushed her back down in the seat.
“Damn! This bitch almost ready for a fuckin’ wheelchair! Fuck all that. I like ‘em young, bro.”

Brody paused, then said quietly, “Eva's eighteen, right?”

“Eva?”

“Yo!” Brody exploded. “What the fuck is really good with that? They stuck your ass in the stupid cell when I left or something? We made a deal, muhfuckah! Five gorilla muhfuckahs and five big hard dicks! Ready to put in work rodding up your spic ass! Do you remember
that
shit!?!”

Fiyah was shook. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I remember. Eva's eighteen.”

“I thought so,” Brody said, grilling the fuck outta him. That niggah was breathing hard and his muscles jumped like he wanted to do something.

“Don't fuck with me, Fiyah. You bring that young pussy straight to Big Brody, ya heard?”

Brody took a hit off the end of his blunt and blew that shit out in Charlene's face. She played her role, leaning her sexy little ass into him and breathing the smoke in like it was oxygen. With his eyes locked dead on Fiyah's, Brody untied a ribbon at the scoop neck of her yellow dress. Her titties looked bold and firm and Fiyah couldn't stop his dick from leaping in his drawers. But there was something else down the front of her dress too. At first he thought it was a tattoo, but when Brody held his fist out and laughed, Fiyah saw a bright red brand in the shape of a big B. It matched the platinum B on the oversized ring Brody sported on his middle finger.

Brody turned the other way. The skinny Latina girl in the red shirt was still leaning up against the window. Brody slapped the beer can out of her hand and it landed on the floor between their feet.

Fiyah knew what was up the moment he saw the dull gray blister standing out on the bulge of her breast. And Brody wanted to make sure he knew. He held his fist out and lined up his ring with the raw mirror image that was on her breast, then punched it into her so hard the girl yelped and slumped over, clutching her burned flesh.

Brody grinned. “Big B likes that fresh meat, yo. He likes it a lot.”

Fiyah sat still. His face was like stone.

“Yo, Bullet,” Brody said, nodding toward the guy who was his younger brother. Earn ya fuckin’ keep, niggah! Crack that bottle, man. I wanna sip a little sumpthin’ with Fiyah here because I got faith in this niggah now.”

Bullet poured and Brody spoke quietly. “You in with
me
now. Dig? You my newest lieutenant.” Bullet passed him a red laminate and Brody tossed it to Fiyah. “Show up at Bricks tonight. You been runnin up a tab in the joint, muhfuckah, and now it's time for you to show and prove.”

King Brody took a swig from his glass. “Yo. Charlene.” He elbowed the chick in the yellow dress.

“Bitch find something to do. My man Fiyah just got outta jail, stupid. Go sit over there next to him and treat him right.”

Almost nine months on lock was enough to make the strongest cat lose control. Fiyah tried to play that shit off. He sat there with his face as hard as stone. Moments later he was cursing inside for being such a weak muhfuckah. He wanted to be cool like he wasn't affected, but when mami in all that yellow got down between his legs and started yanking on his dick, he was done. Brody and his crew laughed, but Fiyah didn't give a fuck. Right then it wouldn't have mattered if his mother was in the back of that fuckin’ Escalade. The way that chick slurped on his dick and massaged his balls? He pushed down on her
head as he mouth- fucked her like it was just the two of them in the whip. Her tongue felt softer than butter. She licked his swollen head in tiny hot circles. It didn't take but three or four quick strokes before he busted his nut, but after dreaming about getting some for over eight months, Charlene's neck pussy was just what he needed.

“That should hold a niggah till we get to the crib,” Brody laughed. He shook his head. “You coulda got ya dick sucked on The Rock. We gone swing by the house so Charlene can tear ya off real proper, aiight?”

That was cool with Fiyah. He stuffed his wet dick back in his pants, then sank back on the plush leather seats trying to catch his breath. Charlene smiled up at him, still snuggled between his legs.

Brody's joint was on Lexington Avenue and it was just as large as he was. The lobby had marble floors and smelled like lemon incense, and the mirrors and glass panels were sparkling clean.

Fiyah tried not to act too impressed when he stepped into Brody's crib, but that shit was so grand it was fit for a king. Every fuckin’ thing in there was oversized and over the top, just like Brody. Granite pillars were spread throughout the house and mirrors trimmed in red velvet lined the walls.

Fiyah was thinking about Charlene's big juicy titties and how they had jiggled under her yellow dress as she sucked his nuts. He was already anticipating what it would be like to slide between her toned, sexy legs when Brody fucked up his fantasy by tossing him off a different bitch.

“Yo, Nakisha,” Brody barked on one of the young girls who were sprawled out on his cotton- soft leather sofas. A whole row of them were dressed in colorful thongs and bras and just waiting for King Brody to give a command. Brody had seen the way

Fiyah was still digging Charlene, and he turned to the other bitches in his stable with a grin. “Nakisha, take my manz Fiyah in ya room and work him over.” He looked at Fiyah like he was just another one of his bitches in a colorful thong. “Don't even sweat Charlene's old pussy. Nakisha is your type of bitch now, ya feel me?”