The Streets Keep Calling (3 page)

“Where's your son?” I asked, not wanting to be in the middle of fucking his mom from the back and have him run in on us.

“I sent him to my mom's crib for the night” Trixy said, then continued, “My place ain't much, but it will do for right now.” She locked the door after I came in.

“This is cool,” I responded, looking around.

Her crib was decent. Even though Trixy was kind of on the ghetto side, her taste was pretty close to that of my boogie-ass wife, Maria. Her place was set up almost the same way as the living room in my old house. She had a bad-ass cream couch and love seat that fit the room perfectly, and I was really digging the chocolate lounging chair. Not only that, but the bitch had a sixty-inch flat screen that really set it off. I must say, a nigga was impressed.

“I need to go to my bedroom for a minute. Please make yourself at home. I got Heineken chilling in the fridge if you wanna take the buzz off from all that Hennessy,” Trixy offered.

I quickly went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle, hoping that shit really would take the buzz off. A nigga was really feeling drunk. Shortly after I sat down on the couch, music started playing. It was the sound of Trey Songz's “Neighbors Know My Name.” I knew exactly what was coming next. I hadn't had any pussy in over five years, and I knew the slightest touch would cause me to bust within seconds. I wasn't about to take a chance at embarrassment. As a nigga, I already knew what I had to do.

“Trixy, where's your bathroom?” I yelled down the hall.

“It's the first door on the left,” she yelled back.

I rushed to the bathroom and gently shut the door. I wasted no time pulling my pants down. I scanned the room quickly, and grabbed the first bottle of lotion I saw sitting on the counter. I poured some Victoria's Secret Japanese cherry blossom into my palm and started jerking off. Thinking of all those models in the
Hustler
magazine I kept while locked up made me cum pretty fast. I flushed the toilet to pretend like I actually used the bathroom, then cleaned myself up. Now I was ready for the real thing. I went back to the living room and sat on the couch. Minutes later, Trixy walked in, dressed in nothing but a sheer robe. My eyes were on the imprint of her ass and titties as she approached me. She stood directly in front of me, then propped one foot up on the couch beside me.

“Do you wanna know what I'm thinking?” she said in the most seductive way.

“What?” I asked, hoping that she was thinking she wanted to deep throat my dick. I was already rock hard just from the thought.

“I'm thinking…” Trixy came in closer to me then continued, “I'm thinking…Why would you smell like Victoria's Secret?” she said, totally throwing off the moment.

“Oh, after I washed my hands I needed a little lotion. Now get back to what you were about to say before you smelled the lotion.” I slid my hand beneath her robe and rubbed her thigh.

“I was thinking about the first time we had sex. I was a little girl back then. Well, I'm a grown woman now, with big-girl moves,” Trixy said as she parted open her robe and mounted her right leg on the couch's arm, exposing her thick, pink pussy. I don't know if it's because it was the first pussy I'd seen in years, but I swear she had the prettiest set of lips I'd ever seen in my life! She slid her hand between her legs and began to massage her pussy. “I'm going to fuck the shit out of you.” She dropped her robe completely, then continued, “Come get this pussy, baby.”

I leaned forward and guided my right hand from her thigh up to her right breast. Next, I squeezed her nipple while I played with her clit and watched my fingers disappear into her cave. She licked my fingers, which were dripping from her wetness.

“Take your pants off,” she instructed as she got on her knees in between my legs. I pulled my pants down as fast as humanly possible, and she wasted no time putting it in her mouth. She started off sucking my dick and licking the tip just the way I liked it. My eyes started rolling in the back of my head. I was so into it that I didn't even realize that she'd used her lips to put a condom on me.
Damn, this bitch is a magician,
I thought, amazed that she was able to do that without me even feeling it. Her mouth felt so warm and tender as she bobbed her head up and down my shit. I could feel my dick twitch as she glided her tounge in swirls and tightened her cheeks with every head stroke. The way she was doing that shit, it felt like I was in a pussy for real.
Goddamn!
I said to myself that she wasn't lying when she said she was a big girl, 'cause this chick was sucking like a professional!

“Suck that shit, Trixy,” I commanded her, while doing all I could to prevent myself from cumming. I didn't want to cum in her mouth. Not this round anyway. I wanted to cum inside her, instead. After a couple of minutes, I bent her over and put her into a position on all fours. I held on to her titties as I fucked her from behind. After all these years, her pussy was still nice and tight, and her shit was soaking wet, just how I liked it.

“Fuck me harder,” she ordered. She was taking every long stoke I was giving her and loving it. We switched positions and she ended up on top, straddling me. Trixy rode me as if I were the last nigga on earth with a dick.
Damn, this girl got some good pussy
, I thought as I grabbed her waist tight and forced all nine inches of myself deep inside her. Trixy switched positions again, and her lips landed back on my dick. She pulled off the condom. She sucked it even harder this time. The warmth and wetness from her mouth made me cum within seconds. When I came, she let it shoot all over her face. Trixy was a real freak. We fucked three times within four hours and she still wanted more. But fuck that, I was done. Fucking with Trixy, I would end up missing my appointment with my parole officer. This girl was on a mission, and she definitely proved to me she was all grown up now.

 

The chirping sound of the alarm clock woke me at seven o'clock in the morning. That shit was like music to my ears. I preferred that any day over the sound of a prison guard shouting at me, “Motherfucker, get the hell up! Chow time.” When I got home after that long night with Trixy, I made sure I set the alarm so I didn't miss my first appointment with my parole officer. I hopped out of the bed and headed to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, bacon and eggs began lingering in the air. After putting on my clothes, last night came to mind.
Damn, that pussy was good. Trixy wore my ass out. She's definitely not a virgin anymore.
I knew from that day I was going to continue to get into that tight little cave on a regular basis. Even though I had a hell of a time with Trixy the night before, I still couldn't get my wife off my mind. My face instantly frowned up, and my heart started to pound when I thought about what that bitch had said to me about giving up my parental rights so she could let another nigga raise my kids.
I'll be dead before I have some next nigga playing Daddy to my kids.
I felt the rage start to build up inside me, so I had to stop myself and get back on track. I looked in the mirror as I spoke to myself, “Today is a brand new beginning for me. I'm at my crossroads and will go the right way. I will not let bitches, money, or the streets bring me down. The meeting with my parole officer is top priority today.”

After getting my thoughts and priorities back on track, I headed to the kitchen, where my moms was hard at work cooking breakfast.

“Morning, Ma,” I greeted her, with a kiss on the cheek. She had made a feast for me. My favorite meal of the day had always been breakfast.

“Hey, baby, how did you sleep last night?” she asked with one hand turning over frying bacon and the other holding a cigarette.

“Pretty good.”

“Let me fix you a plate to get your day started off right,” she offered.

“Thanks, Ma. Before I went in, you promised me you would stop smoking,” I reminded her.

“With stress from my job, bills, and you locked up, I needed something to help me cope. I'll tell you what, Breeze. If you can go out there and get a job, I'll quit smoking cold turkey,” she vowed while laying my plate on the kitchen table in front of me.

“It's a deal,” I agreed. While I ate, I tried not to think about Maria's conniving ass, but the bitch kept popping back up.
This chick won't even let me see my own damn kids.
Every time I thought about her, my head started hurting.

I rushed and finished my food, then headed out the door. I wanted to make sure I was at least thirty minutes early for my appointment. I thought that would impress my parole officer. From what I'd heard, a P.O. could make or break you, and I damn sure didn't need anyone else going against me. My odds of survival were bad enough already. Once I was on the bus, I decided I would relax on the way there and have my daily conversation with my main man upstairs. I figured if I put it in his hands, I'd be okay. I put my hand on the cross hanging off the necklace Moses had given me, and closed my eyes.

 

“Byron Miller,” a man called out as I waited in the foyer. Once I got up, he led me to his office. I didn't know what to expect.

“Your name is Byron Miller?” he questioned.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Well, son, my name is Winston Hicks and I'm going to be your parole officer,” he explained while pulling out a cup from his desk drawer.

“What's that for?” I asked.

“This cup is for you to piss in. You get one of these tests once a month. You fuck up once and you go straight back to jail. First and foremost, I don't put up with no bullshit. This morning I reviewed your record. I must say it was quite long. If you're a smart man, for your sake, I hope you put all that shit behind you and have plans to change your street ways. By the way, whatever your dumb-ass street name is, I won't call you that. Your name is Byron Miller to me. Here are some job sites I need you to go on, and I will follow up with these employers. If you don't go, you've won yourself a one-way ticket to jail. As I said before, I don't play no games. Now, if you really want to better yourself, I will help you as much as I can. You got that, son?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded again.

“Now, don't waste my time. Go on and do that piss test. The bathroom is on the right,” he instructed while handing me the cup. Thankfully, I hadn't smoked.

After the test results came out negative, I was able to take the next step and start looking for a job. Hicks gave me a long list that would take me at least two days to finish, so I dove right into it. I was stepping out of Farm Fresh, where I applied for a night stocker position, when some of my old boys drove by. I didn't have shit, but I wasn't going to let them see me sweat.

“Breezy, Breeze,” I heard a call from the car. I walked up to them.

“What up, nigga.” They each dapped me up. They were eager to see what was going on with me.

“I'm good.” I nodded.

“What you got going on for the rest of the day?” Mannie asked.

“My schedule is all open. What's good?” I replied.

“Say no more. Hop in,” he offered. I jumped in and Mannie sped off.

For the next two hours, I rode around with my niggas while they made their rounds doing pickups. It reminded me of my days in the game, riding around, checking niggas on the block and collecting my dough. Yeah, being with those niggas made me miss the game for a split second, but when I thought about those five years and the vow I'd made the night before my release, I ain't give a fuck about the game. My boys told me what had been up since I'd been gone. They passed the blunt around as we chatted. I declined the blunt but welcomed the information about the streets. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to verify the information I had gotten from Trixy. I asked about some of the dudes I used to roll with: Killa Mike, Cash, and Peady.

Mannie quickly gave me the rundown. “Mike and Cash got shot up during a robbery. These niggas was dressing up like the police and robbing trap houses. It didn't take long for niggas to catch on. So one night, when these niggas tried to hit a crib, niggas was waiting on them. As soon as they kicked the door in, niggas sprayed their ass. Killa got hit fifteen times, so he ain't make it, and Cash caught five. That nigga made it, but he paralyzed, shitting and pissing on his self every day. From what I hear, Peady supposed to be doing it big down south somewhere.”

None of that shit Mannie said was really a surprise to me. Since Mike and Cash had snitched on me, I knew those grimey niggas had it coming. As far as Peady, he was my right-hand man, so he knew how the game went. Not only did he have my knowledge about how to get things done, but he ran off with my money, so why wouldn't he be doing good? Mannie went on to say that a nigga named Mr. Biggs was like Wal-Mart, and everyone in the seven cities was buying from him.

“I'm holding shit down in Norfolk. Whenever you ready, nigga, I can put you back on,” Mannie offered.

“Nah, duke. I ain't fucking with that.” I declined his offer just as easily as I had declined the blunt earlier.

“All right, Breeze. I hear you, man. You trying to be on that good-boy shit. Every nigga like that when they first hit the bricks, but you know that shit'll wear off after a while. Once the streets whip that ass real good, you'll go back to what you know. And it's this motherfucking white girl you know best, nigga!” Mannie spoke the truth.

Deep down, I knew what Mannie was saying was right. Selling drugs and making street paper were just about the only things I was really good at. I knew it wasn't gonna be a easy task, but I owed it to my kids, Ma, and my grandma to stay on the right path and live legit this time around. I had expected getting propositions from niggas, so I already had my head straight. A weak nigga would have easily given in. Before the ride was over, each of them hit me off with a few dollars.

I had them drop me off at an old building a few blocks from my grandma's crib. There was a job there I needed to check out.