Retribution (33 page)

I knew she was scared. I knew what she's scared of. Yet, she trusted me enough to show me her wounds, to spill open her hurt, and place her own secrets into my hands. Confirming what I already knew I
needed
to do. What I
had
to do.

Once we finally left the restaurant and got into the comfort of my car, Mona broke down. She cried for almost half the ride before she was finally able to pull herself together. I let her be. She needed to purge. Needed to cleanse, to rid her self of whatever guilt she harbored. She needed to mentally prepare herself for the emotional storm that was about to come.

By the time I pulled in front of her house, she had calmed significantly. Fortunately, no one was home to see her swollen, bloodshot eyes. She sat still for several moments, before slowly opening the door. She leaned over and gave me a hug.

“You might as well…” Her voice cracked as she choked back tears. “…finish what Cassandra started. Whatever you have to do, Pasha. Make
all of them
niggas pay.” With that, she got out, shut the door, then walked toward the house. I waited for her to open her door, then hit the horn twice, driving off as it shut behind her.

Mona, unknowingly, lit the flame in my spirit.

And, right after I dropped her off, I made a quick call to Felecia to confirm our meeting tonight, then drove straight here to the salon with a renewed fire, with a burning conviction, tearing up my office until I found what I was looking for. The business card…
his
business card.

James Larson.

A tall, delicious, dark-skinned nigga with—what I recall—deep, piercing brown eyes and full lips, with a neatly trimmed goatee
and dreads framing his chiseled face with its high-cheekbones. An IT tech who'd strolled into the salon
twice
, both times with his fiancée—a new client that messy-ass Shuwanda had brought in. He sat right here, in this waiting area for her to get her hair done.

The minute our eyes met, I
knew
who he was.

My worst fear realized.

That, one day, one of the niggas who'd respond to my Deep Throat Diva ads on Nastyfreaks4u.com, in search of some slow, wet head, would somehow find their way into my salon. And—on that very day, the day he walked toward Shuwanda's workstation to get his fiancée's car keys, it happened.

My indiscretions had finally greeted me at the door.

I can remember feeling relieved,
hopeful
, when he didn't seem to recognize who I was. Or realize that I'd recognized him. But that quickly changed two weeks later when he walked out of the salon behind me, glanced over his shoulder toward the salon's door, then licked his lips and told me I looked familiar to him; that he couldn't put his finger on it at first, until he got home, then it hit him. “I'd never forget a face or set of lips like yours.”

My knees almost buckled.

He sensed my uneasiness, quickly reassuring me that he wouldn't expose me. “Don't worry…your secret is safe with me. I just wanted to let you know, I remember who you are. Shit. I actually haven't stopped thinking about that night in the park.”

I swallowed my nerves as he told me how I'd given him the most mind-blowing head job he'd ever experienced in his life. I had no idea what park I had sucked him at. I'd had my share of park ‘n' suck action in more than one park, so it didn't matter where I'd done it. The fact was, he remembered me. That he'd sent me an attachment of his hard dick. And I slipped out of my
home in the middle of the night, met him at some park, then greedily sucked him in the backseat of his car.

“I have to admit,” James says, cutting into my reverie. “I was pleasantly surprised to hear your voice. I thought you might have tossed my business card out after I'd given it to you.” I tell him for some reason I held on to it, not really knowing if I'd ever have a reason to use it. “I won't lie and say I didn't hope you were calling to offer me another, you know…round of—”

I roll my eyes up in my head, stopping him. “No, no. I assure you that
that
definitely wasn't the purpose for my call.”

He chuckles. “I figured as much. Hey, can't knock a guy for dreaming. But, uh, anyway…your message said you wanted to know if I would be able to track down an email IP address for you.”

“Yes, that's right,” I say, logging back into my MacBook, then clicking on AOL. I log into my Deep Throat Diva account to retrieve my emails. My hands start to shake. My heart starts racing. It's been well over a year since I've signed into this email account. I'd had no reason to. Not after what I went through.

I'd shut down my Deep Throat Diva page, and cancelled my membership on Nastyfreaks4u.com a few weeks after my release from the hospital. But still held on to this email address, saved every last email from anyone I'd met online and ever sucked off. Or intended to suck off, but then got to the designated location and changed my mind when a nigga misled me; when he pulled out a teenie-weenie dicklet instead of the long, luscious dick—that lured me out into the still of the night in the first place—he'd attached in his email; or because he was dirty, fat, disabled, disfigured, handicapped, a burn victim, excessively ugly, or all the above. Had them all categorized in folders. B
IG DICKS.
S
MALL DICKS. STUMPY DICKS. UGLY DICKS.
P
RETTY DICKS.
Q
UICK
N
UTS.
P
IGLETS.
D
IRT BAGS.
C
RAZIES.
O
NE-TIME SUCKS.
D
OUBLE ROUNDS.

I don't bother concerning myself with any of the 138 unopened emails. It's not what I'm on here for. I click on B
IG
D
ICK&
C
RAZY,
then scroll through the folder until I find the email I'm looking for. [email protected].

I take a deep breath as I open the last email I received. It's an attachment. A picture of his thick, veiny dick. I shut my eyes. Behind my lids, I sort through the hard dicks stubbornly embedded in my mind; the dicks of every last nigga I was forced to deep throat. Forced to suck the nut out of. Forced to swallow. Nothing registers. His long dick, the bulbous head, his low hanging balls…aren't attached to any of the niggas. Niggas who have now become high-priority targets.

“That won't be a problem,” James says confidently. “I'll need for you to forward whatever emails you might have.”

I open the previous email received from him.
U sucked me off about three weeks ago. I haven't had my dick sucked like that since. Wanted to get at u again but got locked up. But I'm home now and ready for another round, tonight or sometime this weekend. U really know how to handle a dick. The whole time I was in the county, that's all I kept thinking about.

Then I open the email prior to the one I just opened. The subject heading reads: U G
OT ME FEENIN
'! I click it open.
Hey, baby. Wats good withcu? I wanna feel ur tongue on my dick again. Let's meet up.

I know I'm going out on a limb here. Know I'm taking a risk allowing this…this stranger…this man who—other than the size of his dick and the way it felt in my mouth—I know nothing about. Yet, I feel like he is trustworthy. Feel like he has something to lose as well as I do if discretion isn't exercised. And, if I have to get my knees dirty one last time with this nigga to get the job done, then I'm willing to do
what
ever I need to do, to ensure this
is handled with care. So if that means pulling open my bag of dick-sucking tricks to get what I need, then so be it. After all, it's not like I've never had his dick in my mouth before. Besides, the horny nigga's already stated he'd like another round of this deep throat.

I smirk. “I can do that.” I ask him for his email address, pressing the
FORWARD
tab for the emails I plan to send him. “However, I need to tell you that what I'm sending you is extremely personal and an extremely delicate matter that I need handled discreetly.” I lower my voice to a seductive whisper. “Can I
trust
you to do that for me, James? Be
discreet?”

“No doubt, no doubt. I got you. Whatever it is, you can trust me on this. Like I told you the day we spoke outside your hair salon, I won't put you out like that.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And I appreciate you being willing to help me. Now tell me, James,
what
will this cost me?”

“Oh, no worries, beautiful. There's no
cost…”
He clears his throat, then lowers his voice. “But, uh, listen. I still think about…you know, that night.”

I smirk, forwarding him the emails.
Of course you do. They all do.
“Do you now?” I decide to fuck with him. Tell him to tell me what he still thinks about.

“The way them pretty lips felt wrapped about my dick. And how wet, warm, and juicy your mouth was. How tight your throat was. How you swallowed my whole dick. Then was able to lick on my balls. I think about that whole experience. I'ma be honest with you. The minute I heard your voice on my phone, my dick got hard. Hell, it's still hard.”

I shake my head. I think to ask him about his fiancée, if they'd tied the knot or not, then decide against it.

“Okay, I got the emails.”

“Good.” I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

“Listen. I know you said you didn't want to go another round, but I was thinking, uh, maybe…you can show me your appreciation by…you
know
. Letting me get some of that head work again.”

“Miss Pasha, girl, do whatever you gotta do to fish them no-good nigga-coons…It's time to take it to them nigga-bitches' skulls…”

Oh, yes it is. And this motherfucker right here will be the first one to get gutted.

“Yo, u think u can get all up in a nigga's head, then dismiss him? That's peace. Stuck-up bitch!!!!!”

Buckle up, you psycho motherfucker! I'm about to
fuck
you good!

I stare at the computer screen, narrow my eyes at the address, then click to compose a new email.

Hey, boo. I'm not sure if you even remember me. You responded to one of my ads on NastyFreaks4u a while ago. We met and I sucked your dick once. Anyway, I was going through old emails and stumbled on one of yours. The one you sent me of your big, juicy dick. I've been sitting here staring at it up on my computer screen with no panties on, fingering myself. Mouth watering. Throat tingling. Tonsils aching. I'm so horny to feel a long dick stretching my neck out. Would love for it to be yours. I know the last time you emailed me looking for some of this bomb-head service, I told you I wasn't interested. Well, I've had a change of heart. I've been out of commission for a while, but I'm back now with a throat load of new tricks. And I'm eager, ready, and very hungry to suck some good dick. Hope you have something good for me, daddy. Can't wait to taste you…

Deep Throat Diva

I reread the email, then press
SEND
.

Now, let the games begin…

“So, uh, we good on that?” James asks. “I look out for you. And you
bless
me with one more round.”

“I tell you what, James. I need to know exactly where those emails
were sent from. You get me that info, and I promise
you
a nice, slow, wet…very
personalized
thank you.”

I can practically see him licking his lips and grabbing his hard dick. “All I need is a few days.”

A sly grin eases across my lips. “And all I'll need is that thick hard dick.”

“I got you, sexy. Damn. You got my dick so…”

“Exactly how I like it.” He groans in my ear, then quickly says he has to hurry off the phone to jack his shit before his wife gets home. I hang up, laughing just as I'm greeted with the “you've got mail” voice. I click on my inbox. “Well, well, well…look what we got here,” I say as I'm opening the email.

MydikneedsUrtongue2.
Oh, shit, yo! Word? Ya whore-ass back on dick patrol? That's what it is. Yeah, u can cum hop down on dis dick. I gotta three day load u can suck outta deez balls. When u tryna meet up? My dick def could use some of that tongue n throat work. I ain't met a bitch yet who suck dick as good as u. Holla back, baby. I wanna fuck dat throat raw.

Nigga, please!

I look down at the calendar on the desk, then open the schedule book, flipping through the pages to see which day or night this week I can meet this crazy fucker to finally serve his ass a deep dish of street justice. My way!

I reply back.
Oooh, yes, big daddy, talk that dirty shirt to me. Reading your email got my mouth wet and my pussy juicing. Let's meet next Friday night. I'll shoot you an email sometime Thursday afternoon with the exact time and place. Please, let's keep this on the low.

I glance up at the time. It's five minutes to nine. I'm pissed at myself for telling Felecia that I'd meet her here at nine o'clock.
Fucking with this bitch is going to have me missing tonight's episode of
The Good Wife.

It takes less than three minutes for Mydik to reply back.
Aiight no doubt. Yo, long as u don't front on a nigga, we good. Bring me dat wet throat n let me skull fuck u til I bust this nut down in ya neck…in't gotta worry about me sayin shit. I wanna keep ya sexy dick suckin ass on speed dial, yo. Run me dem digits.

I smirk.
Nigga, when I'm done with you, you're going to regret the day you ever laid eyes on me.
I forward James the remaining emails, then sign out. I shut my laptop down just as Felecia knocks standing at the door. I get up from my seat, making my way over to open it, stepping aside to let her in.