Authors: Erick S. Gray
Also by Erick S. Gray
Money Power Respect
AN URBAN NOVEL
ERICK S. GRAY
St. Martin's Griffin
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
IT'S LIKE CANDY
. Copyright Â© 2007 by Erick S. Gray. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gray, Erick S.
It's like candy: an urban novel/Erick S. Gray.â1st St.
1. SistersâFiction. 2. Queens (New York, N.Y.)â
Fiction. 3. CriminalsâFiction. 4. ProstitutesâFiction.
5. Ex-convictsâFiction. 6. African American womenâ
Fiction. 7. City and town lifeâFiction. I. Title.
813'.6âdc22Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 2006050598
First Edition: March 2007
10Â Â Â Â 9Â Â Â Â 8Â Â Â Â 7Â Â Â Â 6Â Â Â Â 5Â Â Â Â 4Â Â Â Â 3Â Â Â Â 2Â Â Â Â 1
I dedicate this book to my family, my friends,
and to those who have lost a loved one to violence, drugs,
I want to say that, despite my ups and my downs, I still feel blessed. I thank God every day for my talents, my family, my daughter, and the people who have come in and out of my life. Some folks are here to stay, and some were meant to leaveânever hold or force yourself onto something that wasn't meant to stay in the first place. Numerous people have influenced my life, in both positive and negative ways. I've fallen many times, but I refuse to stay down. I just dust my-self off and keep it moving. Trials and tribulations have made me stronger, and brought me closer to God.
And before I end this, I have to say one more thing. .Â .Â . Someone once told me that our lives are simply a reflection of our actions. If we want more love in the world, then we must create more love in our hearts. Life will give you back everything you put into it. It's a reflection of you. Enjoy it, cherish it, and never stop believing in yourself.
“You lookin' For a date, luv?”
River asked, staring into the burgundy Benz, focusing on the Caucasian driver.
“Excuse me?” the driver asked. He was a bit confused by her question.
River stepped closer to the car. She leaned into the passenger window and repeated, “I said, is you lookin' for a date?”
“How much?” he asked. He was clad in his usual day-to-day business attire; white shirt, black tie, and cheap shoes, being the average-looking Joe. He had just gotten off from work, and wanted a quick blow job before he went home to his wife. He knew about the track in South Jamaica, Queens, and knew what went on there. It was no secret to the man in the Benz that this was where the action was. Where pussy was up for sale at a reasonable price.
“You a cop?” River asked.
“No. I'm just looking for some fun.”
“You want your dick sucked, that's fifty,” River told him, staring him down and waiting for an answer with her hands resting on the passenger door.
The middle-aged accountant, who'd just put in three hours of overtime at his firm, couldn't resist River's beauty. He was dazzled by
her sinuous, long, jet-black hair, her petite figure, scantily clad in a short denim skirt and a revealing halter top, seductive dark bedroom eyes, and her beautiful long soft legs stretched out in a pair of three-inch stilettos. Her peanut-butter complexion and glossy lips caused the man to get a slight bulge in his jeans.
“You dating or what?” River exclaimed, snapping him out of his lustful daydream.
“Huh? Um .Â .Â . yeah, get in,” he said. He leaned over and opened the passenger door.
River glanced around briefly and then quickly jumped into the Benz. Her date, who introduced himself as Ronny, politely shook her hand and asked where to.
“I know a spot. It's quiet, and hardly any cars come around. You ain't got to worry about anyone bothering us,” River said.
“Just lead the way.” Ronny put the Benz in drive and drove off.
As Ronny drove, he couldn't help but constantly glance down at River's gleaming long legs. He was horny, and even though he'd been married to his wife for ten years, Ronny occasionally loved the company of a prostitute, preferably black. He loved the sisters from head to toe, but had married a white woman, because he knew that his family would hate him if he ever brought a black woman home. So he drove the extra twenty minutes into Queens and prowled around the risky neighborhood for a quick fix of pussy.
“Turn here,” River instructed, and Ronny made a quick right.
He couldn't help himself, River was beautiful, and he yearned for her. He wanted to touch her all over, grope her luscious figure and get it started immediately.
“You're beautiful,” he told River.
“Thanks,” River said, being short with him.
“You got on any panties under that skirt?” he asked, glancing down at her legs for the umpteenth time that night.
River displayed a counterfeit smile and kept her mouth shut. She just wanted to get it over with. He was lanky and nerdy-looking, and
she knew that if it wasn't for the money, she would have nothing to do with him.
“Can I touch you?” Ronny asked, already stretching his free hand out and gently brushing his fingers against her crossed legs.
River looked at him, and replied, “I do have on panties.”
“That's my favorite color. Can I see âem?”
River sighed, and thought,
Here we go wit' another fuckin' perverted asshole.
She lifted her hips, her ass hovering over the plush leather seat, and pulled up her denim skirt, exposing the blue thong underneath.
Ronny smiled. “You really got a nice body.”
“Turn here,” she said.
Ronny made another right.
“Ayyite, pull up in this alley.”
He parked his car in an isolated industrial area where there was nothing but empty tractor trailers, parked trucks, and buildings and warehouses vacant for the night.
“My money, please,” River said. “No treasure, no pleasure.”
He went into his pocket and pulled out two twenties and a ten. “I want you to suck my dick nice and hard. I want you to play with my balls too,” he told River, looking like an eager child.
“Ayyite, pay up first and then we can get this party started.”
He passed her the money, and River stuffed the cash into her tiny purse.
“Take âem off, white boy. We ain't got all night. You got fifteen minutes to come.” She looked at the clock on the dashboard.
He quickly unbuckled his khakis, pulling his pants and his white briefs down to his ankles. His pale white dick became exposed, and River had to stop herself from laughing as she looked down at his small pink raw sausage and thought,
Damn, where's the rest of it?
“I want you to jerk me off, too,” he said, getting excited.
River pulled out a condom, and before anything, she started to jerk his little shriveled penis. She always thought that white men were so corny. Only a few were worth her time, and Ronny wasn't one of the few. If anything, she wished she could castrate him and save him the trouble and the embarrassment.
“Oooh, yeah .Â .Â . do that. Beat my dick. Beat my dick,” Ronny gasped, feeling River's warm hand moving rapidly up and down his slight erection.
As River jerked him off, she glanced out the back window. It was dark all around, and she knew she had to keep an eye out for the boys and the stickup kids that lurked in the night. Ronny was so enthralled with the hand job he was receiving that he had his eyes closed, for-getting that he was parked in the wrong hood.
“You ready for me?” River said seductively.
“Yeah, suck my dick, you black bitch!” Ronny moaned.
River didn't argue or curse him out. She gave him a bitter look, but she let the racial slur slide. She had other plans.
“Suck my dick before you make me cum, bitch. Do what I paid you to do.”
“You got ten minutes, baby. I'm gonna do you real good. You gonna enjoy me,” River said.
“I want my money's worth.”
Ronny reclined his seat and River slowly rolled down the condom on his white little dick. It didn't have that far to go. Then River glanced out the back window again, and noticed a car creeping to-ward them with the headlights off.
If Ronny had been street smart, he would have known that River was hesitating. But his hormones and lust for an exotic black woman made him weak and dumb. He'd been doing this for so long, coming into a Queens hood and picking up black prostitutes, that he felt he was safe out there. He was a client loyal to the track and his money was green just like everybody else's.
With the doors still unlocked and the windows rolled down, he
was definitely an easy target. River glanced back again, and saw two men creeping toward them. But she went on as if everything was cool.
“Bitch, suck myâ”
“Get the fuck out the car, niggah!” A loud and shattering voice suddenly pierced the air as a large black figure violently grabbed Ronny from the driver's-side window and pulled him out of the car, dropping him to the ground.
Ronny was terrified and wide-eyed as he stared up at his attacker. He was on his hands and knees with a loaded 9-mm pointed at him.
“What's going on?” he asked in a horrified voice, looking like he was about to piss on himself, with his pants still around his ankles. A slimmer second man came into view, and he too gripped a 9-mm. Both men wore black ski masks.
“Niggah, shut the fuck up and fork over that cash, muthafucka, before I blow a hole in your white ass!”
“My money's in my wallet,” Ronny fearfully explained.
“Give it up, then, niggah!”
He slowly tried to reach for his pants pocket, but his pants were down too far around his ankles.
“I got that,” River said, coming from around the passenger side, and pulling off his pants completely.
Ronny didn't fight. He let River reach for his pants, pulling them off and leaving him bare-assed. River extracted his wallet, another set of keys, and a small picture of his wife and kids.