You went into the "bathroom" and took off all of your clothes for real and pretended to take a shower. I stopped cooking to look at you. You said, "Woman, you can't see when I'm taking a shower because there's a wall there." I said, "The wall fell down. Our bad children knocked it down." You said, Okay you was going to whip them when you got out of the shower. So you got through showering and put a dish towel around your waist and came back into the kitchen and asked which one of our children knocked down the wall? I pointed to my Raggedy Ann doll and said she did it. You called me a liar and picked up Sweetie Pie my favorite doll and said she probably did it because that was my favorite and the baddest. You grabbed Big Mama’s strap off the nail, pulled Sweetie Pie’s panties down and started to whip her. I grabbed your arm and tried to stop you, but you kept on hitting her. You didn’t stop until I bit you. You dropped Sweetie pie on her head and looked real mean at me.
Then you tried to whip me with the extension cord. But I told you, that you couldn't whip me like that because I was a grown woman and your wife. You said okay, but I got to beat you 'cause you let the children tear down the wall and you don't have my supper ready, and you bit me. And I said okay, but a man beats a lady with his fists. You pushed me around and pretended to give me a black eye. I found a Magic marker and drew a half moon under my eye. After you beat me I went out on the porch and acted like I was crying. You came out on the porch still wearing our dish towel. I forgot we was playing and said, "Girl, you can't come out on the porch in a dish towel!" You said a man can go on the porch in a towel or his drawers as long as he ain't naked. I said, Okay.
I pretended to cry some more. I said I was going to go to a woman's shelter. You said, baby come back in the house. I'm sorry I beat you. So we hugged and made up and we went back into the house. You said, “Let’s go in the bedroom and make love like they do on TV. I took off all of my clothes. We grabbed each other around the waist and rolled back and forth under the kitchen table. The hard floor hurt my bones and I bumped my head. We kissed. Your lips tasted like bubble gum. We heard footsteps and got real scared, but it was just Nettie shuffling in. I jumped up and clucked her upside the head and made her go back to my Mama’s room where she slept. And I finished cooking your supper. You sat down at the table in the dish towel. I said hold on wait a minute, you can't sit at the table in a towel in front of the children. You said I’m a man, I can do whatever I want. And I said I'm the woman of the house, and I say a man has to be dressed when he eats in front of the children. You never see the daddy on the Cosby Show eating in a towel in front of his children. And he don't beat his wife. You said yes he do when nobody's looking.
I started to cry for real and said, "Please LaKeisha Ann, play fair! You never want to do things the way I want to do them.’ And you said, "Shut up, silly bitch. I don't want to be your husband anyway. Next thing, you'll want me to put a carrot between my legs and poke you in your pussy."
You whipped off the dish towel, put on your clothes, and went home. The sun came out and turned the dreary kitchen golden. But all I could do was sit down at the table and cry. I cried and the dolls cried too because they wanted their Daddy. And ever since that day I've been curious about carrots. They served some here the other day and it made me think of you.
Love,
Promise
PS. I told the story to Big Fingers and he said a carrot is a poor substitute for a man, but he like the part about us playing husband and wife.
****
The Publisher and Authors from Wes Writers & Publishers strive to bring you the best in fiction and poetry. We support many fine author/brands and diverse fiction genres. We strive for excellence. A better reading experience won’t happen without your valuable input. That’s why reviews are so helpful. Please take the time and leave a review. We also want to stay in touch with you. The best way to do so is to join our mailing list. By joining, you will get excerpts from our upcoming titles and other important information about books and publishing. Please subscribe to the mailing list. Thank you. Subscribe
*****
Follow WES Writers:
Facebook
Twitter
Web
Blog
Harvey’s Author Page
****
Excerpt Boy 4 Higher
Antoine Rucker lives a double life. By day, he’s a young black up and coming IT Executive for a major Atlanta insurance company. On weekend nights, he takes to the street corners near the infamous Bulldog’s Club and sells his body. What’s the monkey on his shoulders, as he calls it, that turn him into this night and day enigmatic character? You’ll have to slide between the sheets of Boy 4 Higher to find out all Antoine, including his exhibitionist habit.
Book Trailer
Chapter 2 - Cock Tease
It’s not my job to work trouble tickets queued in the company’s TRAX System. We have an army of Helpdesk and Desk Side support people whose job it is to hold someone’s hand when their desktops or laptops decide to go belly up or when their software does everything but work. I receive a report listing service tickets more than two weeks old. I forward the information to the Support Director. He has a copy, but a note from me puts a little fire under his ass. I give the report a cursory glance, checking for VIP tickets. VIP’s are the monkeys in the Executive Suite on the thirty-ninth floor and fortieth floors plus Equitable’s top fifty Sales Agents. However, one ticket caught my attention. It seemed that Mike Burroughs, Senior Accounting Agent in Payroll, was having trouble installing a new accounting package on his computer. Mike is my man in the Range Rover who cruised me the other night. I decided to pull his ticket from the queue and work it myself. I had to reassure my Support Director all was cool. When he learned I had pulled the ticket, he came rushing to my office shitting bullets because he thought his group had fucked up by overlooking this ticket. The VP of Data Services does not get his hands dirty working trouble tickets. It’s the same as asking the head of finance why your paycheck is a dollar short. The Director stood in front of my desk apologizing like a child trying to avoid a spanking.
“Everything is cool, Randy. I’m just making sure my skills don’t get rusty,” I lied and sent him back to his office. Even though it was a software issue, I put a tiny screwdriver in my pocket. It’s a habit left over from my days in Desk Side Support. I took the elevator down to the fifteenth floor.
Mike’s cubicle was slightly larger than the others that surrounded the glass office of the Director of Accounting Services. I guessed Mike was a Team lead or Supervisor. The large gold-framed photo of him and his family a spot in the middle of his “attaboy” awards. If he toed the line and kept getting those trinkets, he’d be sitting in that glass office in a couple of years. The Director of Accounting Services saw me and came flying out of his office.
“Tony, what brings you down here?” His top lip curled up crooked. A piece of spinach spoiled his otherwise perfect false teeth.
“Hey Jack, just thought I’d give some of my guys a break and come down and work this ticket.”
“It’s not often we see one of Equitable’s Golden Boys in these parts.”
I knew Jack couldn’t stand the ground I walked on. He’d been with the company thirty years and hadn’t made it anywhere close to the thirty-ninth floor. He’s been in that fish bowl office of his for twenty years. He had risen to his level of incompetence. He was probably two years from retirement—voluntary or otherwise
“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty,” I lied. I placed the screwdriver on Mike’s desk.”
Jack stood watching to see what I was going to do. “I think it’s a software issue,” he said.
“Could be a speck of dust on the motherboard,” I said to Jack.
Mike Burroughs scooted over, and I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. I was relieved when Jack’s Administrative assistant announced he was needed at a meeting. I glanced at the work order I had printed.
“So Soft Inventory isn’t work
ing for you.”
“Yeah, every time I click on the application icon it disappears.”
“Just poof and it’s gone like a mystery man,” I chuckled.
Mike looked at me. “Yeah, like a mystery man.”
“What do you use it for?”
“I want to, uh,”
“Want to what?” I looked Mike directly in his eyes. He glanced away.
“I need it to keep inventory of all the supplies our Agents use--pens, stationary, portfolio folders, even paperclips.” Mike voice was choppy and squeaky. He fidgeted with a pen.
“That’s Equitable for you. Watching pennies while dollars fly out the window. Just this year, they’ve bought another Lear jet.”
“You ever get to ride on it?”
“Oh, heck no. Not a peon like me,” I laughed. He relaxed. I’m sure Jack had been riding his ass because he couldn’t get his work done.
I logged into his computer’s directory. The screen filled with gibberish. I saw the problem right away. A simple two-character change in the directory would have fixed the problem immediately. But I decided to get to know Mike a little better. I entered other commands that brought up screen after screen of junk characters and pretended I was looking for answers among the flood of dashes, ampersands, exclamation marks, and alphabet soup.
“Nice looking family,” I said motioning to the photo on his desk. How long have you been married?”
“Seven years. My boy is three and the girl is six.”
“Seven years? Wow. Still hanging in there.” I kept my eyes glued to the screen watching the scrolling garbage.
“Oh yeah. Still hanging.”
I glanced at Mike out of the corner of my eye. He had an expectant look on his face as if waiting for me to divulge my marital status. I kept quiet.
“You look familiar,” he said after a moment.
I swallowed and kept my eyes on the screen. “Yeah, you’ve seen my mug on that Wanted Poster.” I referred to the photo roster of Company VPs in the lobby.
“Oh no. Somewhere else. I’ve seen you somewhere else.” He glanced at my class ring. “Morehouse guy?”
“Yeah.” My stomach gurgled. I was having second thoughts about working on Mike’s computer. I focused on the line of junk characters on the screen. “I work out at Fit Bodies on the weekend. Maybe you’ve seen me there. You work out?”
“Ah no. It’s too expensive. The wife keeps me fit arranging furniture every weekend,” he laughed. “Are you married?”
“No. Hey let’s have you try and launch that software now.”
Mike clicked on the blue paperclip icon. Nothing happened. “Well, at least it isn’t disappearing.”
I chuckled and moved in closer to Mike to get a better look at the computer. My knee brushed his. He pulled away. I kept my knee close to his as I probed deep into the computer’s electronic guts. After a moment, his knee touched mine. We carried on a desultory conversation about the Falcons as our knees played a game of tag. Mike’s lips were thin and straight. There was moisture above his top lip and beads of sweat on his forehead. Another accountant walked up and asked a question about invoices. Mike pulled his knee away. He was impatient and brusque. When she left, I felt his knee again. It pushed mine. I pulled away quickly. His cheeks flushed pink. His phone rang.
“Sure, Bunny, I’ll get milk. No if I stop at the cleaners I won’t make it home in time to go with you to that parent-teacher conference. Okay. Love ya.” Mike hung up the phone. He glanced at me. I know why he cruises the corners around Bulldog’s. He’s bored as hell with the lie he’s living. I smiled at him. By now I’ve got the software working.
“A couple more things to tidy up here, and I’m going to hit the head.” I nodded toward the restroom and looked Mike straight in the eye.
“Yeah. While you’re finishing up, I think I’ll head over there myself.” He winked.
I gave him a couple of minutes. It’s all women in his department except for him and Jack. So I know we won’t be disturbed. I walked in, and Mike stood at the urinal. He was quiet. His right hand moved but I couldn’t tell whether he was shaking or rubbing. I stood next to him and let my stream fly. It was loud and echoed all over the room as it hit the urinal’s drain. I shook vigorously and noticed Mike doing the same. He glanced at me. I pull away from the urinal holding my dick just before I tucked it in my pants. He looked at and his lips parted.
“Any more trouble with that software, just give Software Services a call,” I said with a deep no nonsense voice. I headed out the door. I stood at the elevator and Mike walked out of the restroom. He didn’t look in my direction. When I got on the elevator, I met my boss’ red face. He didn’t have to open his mouth. I had missed an important conference call with him and the CEO who was flying over the Pacific Ocean right now.
“Where in the fuck were you, Tony?”
I fidgeted a moment as if he was my step-daddy questioning me. “I apologize, Sir. I was in Accounting handling a software issue.”
“Since when did we start paying A VP to handle a goddamn software issue? We’re rolling out Mutual 401, one of the company’s biggest offerings to customers, and you’re dicking around with a software issue in Accounts Payable?” The CIO looked at me as if I was a boneheaded sixteen-year-old. “Thank God Wanda wasn’t down in the mailroom fiddling with some goddamn computer.” He was alluding to my requirement that my top Managers stay on top of their tech skills by doing one in-house support call a month. He continued his tirade.
“I only step in the datacenter once a year. Wouldn’t do that, if I weren’t giving a goddamn dog and pony show to our top stakeholders. I’m too busy for bullshit, and I thought you were too.”
“Again I apologize, Sir.” By now the elevator had stopped at my floor.
“I believe this is where you get off.” He held the button long enough for me to make it past the elevator’s sliding doors. I felt like the bottom of my shoes. I rushed toward my Administrative Assistant’s cubicle. She showed me my cellphone indicating her frantic calls and texts in an effort to reach me. I had left the phone in my office. I snatched it from her, cursed, and stomped toward my office. A moment later my email icon lit up and beeped. It was Mike Burroughs. “You left your cock on my desk.” He’s enclosed a picture of the screwdriver. I replied back to him and let him know the next email I got like that would be forwarded to HR. I spent the rest of the afternoon cursing myself for being so reckless.
.
Roommates Spicy Gay Reads
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends