On the Run with Love (10 page)

Freddie told Slug about the police incident and he agreed with Simone. “Yo, cuz, Timmons and Jake ain't no joke. Word up, if they said it, they meant it, and you can't afford that shit.”

But Slug agreed for his own reason. He thought that now Freddie would finally try to hit up a connect. Freddie had other plans. He rode out to the mall. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do but he knew what he was going for. He was dressed to kill, casual in a pair of beige Polo slacks, a black, beige, and brown Polo button-up, and a pair of black Clarks. He was wearing Pleasures for men and had his short curls groomed and shining. He finished off his outfit with a pair of oval Polo frames that gave him a studious and intelligent air.

As he cruised through the mall, looking for a victim, he tried to tell himself that this was going to be a one-time thing, just to get him over the hump. But like an alcoholic deciding to have just one drink, he knew what he was doing was dangerous.

Smiling and flirting, holding doors open and warmly greeting each female's face made him think of Simone, and the guilt weighed heavily on his back. He thought of their unborn child growing in her womb and the promise he'd made to be true. Still, he tried to convince himself that this was for her, that he was only looking for a woman to seduce and juice for their growing family. He finally found one at the perfume counter in Belk. She was a white woman with blond hair who looked as if she might be in her early forties. He peeped the ring confirming that she was married, and he eyed the platinum Visa confirming that she was also paid.

“Excuse me,” Freddie said, approaching the counter, “I noticed that you just purchased White Diamonds by Liz Taylor. I love that fragrance.” He smiled.

The woman looked up into his green eyes and smiled back. “Oh, it's not for me. It's a birthday gift for my sister,” she responded.

“What a coincidence, it's my mother's birthday.” Freddie chuckled. “But the problem is, she hates White Diamonds. So, um, I was wondering”—he began to lick his lips and made the woman watch his tongue—“if maybe you could help me pick out a nice fragrance for her.”

The lady giggled. “Oh, I don't know. I'm really not an expert or anything. I just know what I like.”

“But you have such good taste,” Freddie said. He gently placed his hand on hers and felt a slight tremble run up her arm. “Please.”

“Well . . .” She thought about it. “Maybe just for a minute.”

Freddie eyed her closely from head to toe. She was dressed conservatively, but everything she wore was expensive. Her silk blouse clung to her ample bosom and her skirt hugged her petite waist. She stood about five feet three inches but her heels made her taller.

“What about this?” she asked, showing him a bottle of Sung by Alfred Sung. She sprayed a little into the air.

“I can't tell, uh . . . I'm sorry, I didn't even ask your name.”

“Cynthia.”

“I'm Freddie, and I think I could decide better if you sprayed it here.” Freddie took the bottle and sprayed a little on the inside of her wrist. Then he gently lifted her arm to his nose, making sure his lips brushed across her flesh ever so gently. He could hear the faint sigh in her throat.

“No, that's a little racy for Mama. That's more of an evening out on the town.” Freddie picked up a bottle of J-Lo. “What about this?”

Cynthia looked at the bottle. “J-Lo. I've never heard of that.”

“No?” Freddie fronted like he was surprised. “J-Lo is short for Jennifer Lopez. She's a very beautiful Latina singer/actress who is known to be very hot, very sensual. In fact, if I may . . .” He raised the bottle and sprayed a little on her neck, making her eyelids flutter. “May I?” Freddie flashed a charismatic smile.

Cynthia could only nod.

He leaned in close to her ear so his words could be felt. “Now this reminds me of red: red roses, red wine, red satin sheets, and sexy red toenails in sexy red six-inch stilettos.”

Cynthia's pink erect nipples pressed against the silk of her blouse like a child pressing his or her face to the glass of a candy store, licking his or her lips.

Freddie pulled away and shrugged. “Definitely not a mommy fragrance. Maybe I should just get her a wok,” he joked and Cynthia giggled.

“Thank you so much for your time, Cynthia.” He shook her hand, running a finger across her palm and causing her to reflexively grip his hand as the sensation ran up her spine.

“No . . . no problem, umm, Freddie,” she replied, slightly hoarse.

“How can I make it up to you?” He was still holding her hand.

“Oh, there's no—”

He gently cut her off. “No, there is, because it would break my heart to see you walk away.”

It was a wrap. It didn't take much to convince the well-off, lonely housewife to drive around the corner and meet Freddie at the Irish Inn, a seedy, secluded motel that fit Cynthia's fantasy of taboo.

Once inside the room, Freddie wasted no time putting his mack down on the squareness of Cynthia's naiveté. He pinned her against the door, snatching her skirt up to her hips, pushing past her panties, and shoving three fingers inside her warm pinkness.

“Is this how you want it, huh? You want that thug shit, don't you?” Freddie woofed and Cynthia was loving it.

“Oh, yes! Yes!” She tried to kiss him but he turned away.

“I got something for you to kiss,” he told her, snatching his manhood out of his pants and pushing her down on her knees. He slid the whole length into her mouth, pumping in and out, sexing her face.

“Damn! You a nasty bitch, ain't you? Ain't you?” Freddie accosted her. The only reply was the gagging in her throat. He didn't even try to hold back. He came in her mouth and watched it spill out and run down her chin. He lifted her off her knees, took her to the bed, and pushed her down onto it.

“What are you gonna do to me, Freddie?” Cynthia panted, unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her pale, white breasts and pink nipples.

“Did I tell you to speak?”

“No,” Cynthia stuttered in mortal fear, but she was getting more turned on by the minute by the huge black dick that was in her face.

Freddie slid on a condom, cocked her legs back until her knees damn near touched her shoulders, and entered her with the force of a jackhammer. The pain and pleasure made Cynthia scream out and cum instantly, clawing Freddie's shirt. She broke a nail.

“Oh, my God!” she squealed, trying to squirm away from the incessant pounding. She felt herself coming a second time. “Oh, Freddie, not again!” she moaned as her juices flowed, soaking the bed beneath her ass.

Freddie abruptly pulled out and stood back.

“Fr . . . Freddie, why did you stop?” she huffed.

“You want this dick? Crawl to it. Crawl to this dick,” he commanded, and she slid off the bed onto the floor on all fours as Freddie backed away gradually.

“Oh, please, Freddie. Come—”

“Crawl yo' pink ass to this dick!” Freddie repeated emphatically until his back was against the wall between the bed and the bathroom. She was all over him like a woman possessed, dragging him down to the floor and squatting on top of him. She rode him furiously, taking all of him inside of her. Freddie sat back and watched her go crazy, smiling.

“Don't cum in the condom, Freddie. Cum in my mouth again, cum in—”

She felt him building up and hopped off his dick. She snatched the rubber off and let it explode all over her face. She licked her lips as if it were whipped cream.

After they showered together and redressed, Freddie closed the deal.

“Freddie, I can't give you my home number, but this is my cell number. Will you use it, please?” Cynthia asked, wrapping her arms and one leg around him.

“I can't. I don't know, ma. You see . . .” He sighed. “I feel so embarrassed telling you this.”

“What?” she asked with a concern born of lust.

“I may have to leave town.”

“No!” She gasped.

“I got, like, this gambling habit, and I owe a few guys a lot of money. They've been all over me and if I don't pay soon . . .” Freddie shook his head then kissed her forehead. “So if I never see you again, Cynthia, I'll—”

“But, Freddie, how much do you owe them?”

He should have been an actor. Denzel didn't have a better method. “I don't know, like, three Gs.”

“Gs?” she asked, confused.

“I'm sorry, three thousand. Three thousand dollars,” he replied in sheer defeat.

“Freddie, that's a lot of money.” Her eyes widened. “And besides, we just met,” she pointed out.

“I know, I know. And believe me, I hate even coming at you like this. Now you see why I have to leave.”

All she had to hear was the word “leave.” She couldn't imagine losing the lover of a lifetime. “I . . . I can give it to you.”

Freddie looked at her and had to hide his laughter. “Cynthia, I hardly know you. I can't.”

“But if you leave, I'll never be able to get to know you.”

“Oh, Cynthia!” he exclaimed, hugging her and smirking behind her back. “Thank you so much, sooo much! I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I can!”

“Pay me back now,” she said, and pushed him back toward the bed, fire burning in her eyes. She felt that her husband's money had never been so well spent.

 

Early That Next Morning

 

Freddie lay in the waterbed next to Simone, staring at himself in the overhead mirror.
Nigga, you ain't shit
, he thought. He had brought the three Gs home and told Simone he had won it gambling, a boldfaced lie that just rolled off his tongue like ice water. Once again, he had broken his promise to Simone. She lay snuggled up under him, safe and content.

Freddie felt like he had done what he had to do. If he wasn't shit, so be it, but the bills were paid, their stomachs were full, and both of them had new outfits. Freddie thought of Cynthia. He could see that she would get crazy the more he sexed her and played mind games with her. Her hormones had been bottled up too long, and now that they had been released, shit could get out of control.

But if not her, who?
he wondered, knowing he wouldn't stop until he found a worthy candidate. It would take months to build his stable up like he had back in New Jersey, and Goldsboro was entirely too small for that type of mack. Naw, he had to keep his circle small, real small.
One. Gina.
If he was gonna play, Gina killed two birds with one nut. It was time to give Slug the connect he'd been begging for. Why not? He couldn't resist who he was, what he was. He loved Simone, but he loved himself at the same time. Only time would tell who he loved more.

Freddie swung his feet out of bed. Simone instantly missed his warmth and stirred. “Go back to sleep, boo,” he said, and she did. He threw on his pants and a T-shirt, and slid his bare feet into a pair of construction Timbs. He left the apartment and crossed the deserted street to the phone booth in front of Piggly Wiggly. He dialed the number he knew by heart. The phone rang, and rang again, and again, and again.

“Freddie, this better not be you,” Gina's sleepy voice warned when she picked up the phone.

He wasn't surprised that she knew it was him. Whether it was the caller ID or the late hour, Gina was always on point. “Yeah, ma. This me,” Freddie confirmed.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Nigga, what you want? I ain't heard from you in damn near three fuckin' months! I didn't know if you were dead, alive, where your ass was at, if you were okay . . .” She caught her breath, glad to hear from him and, at the same time, releasing three months' worth of stress and frustration. “So I know you want something, callin' here three in the mornin'. What? You had to wait until that little bitch went to sleep?” she barked. She had never called Simone a bitch before, so he knew she was heated. “What do you want, Freddie?” she demanded.

“I just called to see how you were doin', yo.” He tried to sound casual.

Gina laughed in his face. “Nigga, fuck you for thinkin' I'm some lame-ass trick! Matter of fact, good—”

“A'ight, a'ight, Gina. I don't want anything. I need to see you.”

There was silence.

“Gina? You hear me, ma?” he asked, his heart sinking thinking Gina was too through with him.

“I heard you. Just gimme one reason why I shouldn't hang up in your face.”

This time he was silent.

“Uh-huh, just what I thought,” Gina declared. “You know you ain't shit, don't you, Freddie?”

“I am what I am.”

“What you are is a no-good little boy wit' some good community dick. And if I decide to see you, it's because I know it's killin' you to know that there's somebody who knows you for who you truly are, who you can't fool, who you ain't slicker than.” She laughed. Freddie couldn't do anything but accept the painful truth.

“I'll call you when I get to Raleigh,” she said, then abruptly hung up.

Freddie sat in the Blue Note bar tossing back top shelf Rémy while contemplating his next move. He was still gloating about the fact that soon he would be seeing Gina. She was one of the few things he had missed about being back up North. When he was out ripping and running in the streets, seeing her name randomly appear across his phone's screen was always a highlight and reward for how hard he really played. Gina was something special he knew. She was the only one who ever made him question or doubt how solid his love really was for Simone. She was the type of woman who would make any man want to do better. He knew he had to at least appear to be on top of his game when Gina came down. The last thing he wanted her to see was him looking like he had fallen off. She had seen him one way and one way only: fresh to death at all times. Out of all the times in the world, when he had gone to Slug for some extra cash to set it out for her, he had discovered that Slug had already flipped what they had hustled up throughout the week. Financially, his options were limited. He actually only had one option. Against his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and texted Cynthia. Her immediate response and answer caused a huge smile to appear on his mug.

* * *

An hour after she'd received the text, Cynthia pulled across the street from the place Freddie had texted her the address to and parked. Although she was from the area, she had never before been in the particular part of the city where the local bar was located. She sat nervously in her silver Mercedes-Benz truck, waiting for Freddie to come out as she peered out of all mirrors. Every time she saw a black face walk passed her SUV, her heart skipped a beat. Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, out came Freddie. She watched as he slightly staggered out of the hole-in-the-wall establishment.

Freddie looked around. Once he spotted the Benz, he flashed a smile and held up his hand. Cynthia flicked the big beams to confirm what he had already known. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she didn't belong in the area. It wasn't until Freddie had reached her truck that Cynthia unlocked the doors. Freddie laughed on the inside as he climbed in.

“Hey, beautiful,” Freddie semi slurred. He could tell by her grimace that she both smelled the liquor on his breath and knew he was intoxicated. But he didn't care. After all, he was in charge, he believed. “Pull off,” he instructed.

“Where to?” she asked with hesitancy.

“Wherever.” He leaned over and grabbed her inner thigh firmly.

His hand sent a thousand volts through Cynthia's body. She was instantly turned on. She started to head straight to where he had first managed to get her open in under twenty-four hours, but decided on another destination.

He inhaled the scent of her cucumber-infused perfume. A tipsy Freddie smiled at nothing in particular. Cynthia noticed. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, what's your deal?” she added.

Freddie chuckled. “What do mean what's my deal?”

“You're drunk, apparently,” she pointed out. “Are sure you don't want to get together another time?” she asked, even though that's not what she really wanted. She realized although Freddie did something to her body, she knew nothing about him. The last thing she wanted was to wind up dealing with a replica of her alcoholic husband. Her thought was ended by the sound of Freddie's voice. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Turn around and take me back to where you picked me up at,” he repeated. Her words had sobered Freddie up just enough to put her in her place.

“Why? What's wrong?” She was confused.

“Because it's apparent this ain't what you want!” he boomed. “I don't have time for these games you wanna play. It's either you want this dick or you don't.” His words sounded like something straight out of a pimp guide. “Maybe another time, another place,” he then said instead.

“Noooo! Please, baby,” Cynthia pleaded. “I didn't mean anything by it. I was only concerned,” she lied. “I do want you. I wish I could have you inside of me every night,” she confessed.

The four double shots of 1738 he had thrown back had him feeling a little more than nice. “I'm cookin',” he said to himself, shaking his head.

Cynthia pulled into the driveway of her and her husband's five-bedroom, two car–garage home. She hit the garage switch over her visor and drove in. Her husband was out of town on business and she knew her bed would be perfect for her young boy toy.

Freddie had sobered a little bit in the car, but he was still far gone. She led him inside and up the stairs to the master bedroom and got him undressed. She then removed her clothes.

“I'm about to get in the shower. You joining me right?” she asked seductively.

“That's what you want?”

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,” Cynthia replied, slipping out of her Victoria's Secret thong.

A broad smile appeared across Freddie's face. He watched as her petite waist, protruding hips, and voluptuous bottom all swayed rhythmically together as she made her way to the bathroom.

“You comin' or what?” she looked back and asked.

“Make me come,” Freddie teased.

“Follow me and I will!” she shot back, devilishly.

Cynthia was already lathering her body with the body wash by the time Freddie made his way into the see-through walk-in shower. He stepped inside and slid behind her.

“Here, let me help,” he said in a smooth baritone voice, taking the scrub sponge out of her hands.

He began to run the sponge in a circular motion on her back. Cynthia grabbed a handful of her blond hair and moved it out of the way. With his free hand, Freddie reached in front of her and cupped her left breast. While his right hand trailed down her back with the sponge, his left hand massaged upward until it found Cynthia's erect nipple. Cynthia head rotated from side to side from his touch. By now, Freddie's hand had made its way in between Cynthia's ass cheeks. He slid the sponge up and down her crack then placed the sponge up under the water to rinse it off. He then spun Cynthia around and lathered the sponge again. Water cascaded down her breast, onto her midsection, and then finally disappeared between her inner thighs. Freddie leaned in and planted a kiss behind her ear, then on the side of her neck, followed by her collarbone. His kisses turned into his tongue trailing from her blade to her breast until he reached her nipple. Freddie took her nipple into his mouth and gently bit into it. This move caused Cynthia to purr like a kitten. She placed her hands on top of Freddie's head, lightly pushing him off her. At that moment, she wanted him to bite her somewhere else. Freddie released her nipple and began bathing the front part of Cynthia's body. He made Ss over her breasts until he reached between her legs. By now, Cynthia was on fire and there was only one hose that could put it out. She reached for Freddie's dick, but he pulled back.

“I'm not done yet,” he whispered just enough for her to hear. He knew how turned on Cynthia got whenever he took control. He parted her legs with the sponge and began to massage Cynthia's clit with it. She moaned and ground her hips while belly dancing to the rhythm of Freddie's touch. The sponge was sending an electrifying sensation throughout her body, making her yearn for the real thing. Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Freddie removed the sponge and rinsed it out for a second time. He placed Cynthia under the water while he aided it in clearing her body of the soap residue. Convinced the suds were washed away, all in one motion, Freddie spun Cynthia back around until she faced the shower's wall.

“This what'chu been waitin' for?” He pressed his weight up against her and whispered in her ear.

“Yes, give it to me, daddy! Fuck me!” Cynthia exclaimed.

Her words were what Freddie needed to amp him up. His dick stood at attention immediately. Freddie pushed Cynthia up against the wall and bent her over. “Umph,” she let out as she grabbed hold of the soap shelf. Freddie had wasted no time sliding his rock hard inside her aggressively.

“Yeah, take this pussy,” Cynthia looked back and said.

“Shut up,” Freddie shot back with a strong thrust and smack on Cynthia's ass.

The combination of water, flesh, and grunts could be heard as Freddie delivered long, hard pumps into Cynthia's sex box. “You like this dick?” Freddie called out in between pumps.

“No, I love this dick!” Cynthia corrected him. “Don't stop, don't ever stop! Fuck me harder, daddy!” she chimed.

Freddie grabbed a fistful of her hair for balance and granted her wish.

“Ooh, shit! Yes! Yes! Yeeesss!” Cynthia screamed as she felt herself cumming. She started throwing her ass back at Freddie who was riding her like she was a bronco and he was a professional cowboy. He had now clamped his hands around her waist.

“Come for mama, daddy! Make that big dick cum for me,” she cheered him on. Freddie could feel himself building up. His pumps became rabbit-like. Just as he was about to reach his peak, Cynthia announced, “Oh, daddy, I'm about to cum again. Cum with me!” And then, as if on cue, Freddie's sexual volcano erupted to match Cynthia's own explosion. His body tensed up and his legs buckled but he held firm.

“Fuck!” he yelled out as he pulled out of Cynthia. Before he could get a chance to release his juices down the drain, Cynthia had taken him into her mouth and swallowed every ounce of him. Freddie grabbed hold of her head and slow pumped her face until he was limp. Cynthia looked up at him with a devilish grin on her face.

“Now,” she began, “I can go to bed.” She stepped out of the shower and left Freddie alone.

Freddie rinsed off once more. He cut the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack. He quietly dried off before lying down next to Cynthia. He needed to sleep off everything he was graced with that night. Cynthia's arms were wrapped around his waist. He instantly changed sleeping positions so she couldn't spoon with him.

Freddie's inner thoughts were tormenting him with the odd feeling of guilt. He started to think that screwing around with Cynthia was another means of hustling, his way of hustling. It never failed, though: after he did some unfaithful shit, Simone always popped up in his mind.

* * *

What I gotta feel bad for?
Freddie tried to convince himself that he was doing what he was doing for him and his fiancée. The $2,500 Cynthia had promised him for tonight would come in handy for him and Simone. With that in mind, Freddie slipped out of bed and called Slug. Thirty minutes later, he was back on their side of town and it was back to business as usual.