Page 90 of The Man Handler

Pops done warned me hundreds of times ’bout bringin’ this kinda shit up in his spot, and the last thing I need is for him to walk in on it. Dude would be up in here snappin’ fo’ sure. Nigga, you know you shoulda handled that bitch better than that, I think, headin’ back up the stairs to slip on some sweats and a tee-shirt. What if she woulda started bustin’ shit up up in here? How the fuck would you ’splain that?

I take the steps two at a time, goin’ upstairs to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and tongue, starin’ into the mirror. Even after I’ve scrub my gums ’n shit, I still taste her rotten ass in my mouth. I brush my tonge again, then rinse my mouth out wit’ Listerine. Fuck that nasty, skank-ass bitch, I think, shakin’ my head. I rinse my mouth, again, then shut off the lights. She just mad ’cause I tossed her ho-ass out wit’ a throbbin’ pussy, and gypped her outta a nut. I grab my cell, then redial Carla’s number as I’m headin’ back down the stairs. “Yo, baby, I’m on my way.”

“I’ll see you when you get here,” she says. “I hope you gonna eat this pussy, too.”

I frown. This bitch must be crazy. Not after the shit I just went through. I sigh. “Nah, baby. Not tonight. I wanna lay back and get this dick serviced.”

She sucks her teeth. “Damn. Well, am I gonna at least get my pussy fucked?”

“Listen, baby, I wanna feel ya pretty-ass dick washers wrapped ’round my dick and watch you suck out this hot, creamy nut, that’s it. Can I get that? If not, I need to find me someone who has no problem wettin’ up this dick wit’out all the extras.”

She sucks her teeth again. “Are you gonna at least stay the night?”

I think for a minute. I got a lotta shit to do early tomorrow so this bird is gonna haveta settle for a drive by. “Nah,” I tell her. “I got shit to do in the mornin’, but I can swing back through later on to hit you up wit’ a dose of this heavy dick, aiight?”

I can see this ho smilin’ in my head. “And eat my pussy, too, right?”

“No, doubt,” I lie. Fuck outta here. I’m not lickin’, kissin’ or eatin’ a muthafuckin’ thing.

“Well how ’bout we wait until then? This way you don’t have to rush, and we can chill.”

What the fuck?! Don’t no ho plan my muthafuckin’ time. She got the game fucked up. “Nah, I want my dick sucked now, not later. If you ain’t wit’ it, then let a muhfucka know now ’cause you wastin’ my time.”

“But—”

“But nuthin’. You either throatin’ this dick, or you not. You know what, fuck it! I’ma—”

“I already told you yeah, so why are you getting all nutty on me?”

“’Cause a muhfucka’s tryna bust this nut and you wanna be on some bullshit.”

Silence. The bitch knows if she doesn’t wet this dick tonight it’s a wrap. I’m cuttin’ her supply off. And I know like she does, that’s the last thing she wants. “When you leaving?”

I laugh to myself. “Now. So have them dick suckas wet ’n ready.”

Two hours later, I’m back home, steppin’ outta the shower. I’m refreshed, relaxed, and ready to take it down when my cell rings. I glance at the screen. It’s this broad I’m ’posed to get up wit’ tomorrow. I met her up on Blackplanet, where I meet most of these broads I’m smashin’. She had hit my Daddy Long Stroke page up a few months back after peepin’ my body flicks on it. Then she started visitin’ my page e’ery damn day, leavin’ me comments on my guestbook, and hittin’ me with notes, and gifts ’n shit—like all the other broads I meet on there. Word up, it be live and poppin’ on that site. Alotta them Blackplanet hoes be some real thirsty asses. Fuck what ya heard. The economy may be all fucked up, but trust and believe, there’s a surplus of pussy out here, and a nigga wit’ a good stroke game will never go broke.

I look over at the digital clock. It’s 1:22 a.m. What the fuck she want this time of night? I think, pressin’ the talk button. “Yo,” I say into the phone.

“You still coming up here tomorrow?” she asks.

“We still fuckin’, right?”

She sucks her teeth. “Is that the only thing you interested in?”

“Hell yeah. You gotta problem wit’ that?”

“Well,” she says, pausin’, “I was hopin’ we could grab a bite to eat, then maybe catch a movie or something, first.”

I frown. For the last few weeks, fuckin’ is all we been talkin’ ’bout. Now all of a sudden this ho wanna be on sum lets-grab-a-bite-to-eat bull, like she tryna go out on a muthafuckin’ date. Fuck outta here! I think, do I tell this ho what she wants to hear, or do I keep shit real? I decide to give it to her straight, no chaser. “I’m tryna get this dick wet, baby. That’s it. You can save the extras for sum other cat.”

Silence.

“Yo, you still there?”

“Yeah,” she says, soundin’ annoyed. “I’m still here.”

I feel myself ’bout to spaze out on her dizzy ass for callin’ here this time of night wit’ this stupid shit. I take a deep breath, spark up the half-smoked blunt layin’ in the ashtray on my nightstand, then take two long, deep pulls, holdin’ the smoke in my lungs ’til I calm myself down. I blow it out. “So, what’s good? We fuckin’ or not?”

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