Page 31 of The Man Handler

“Well, I’m glad you realize that. I was starting to wonder if I even had a sister. Now why haven’t we heard from you?”

Oh my God. I realized it’s been over a month since I’ve spoken to him. I’ve been so busy with work and getting my back knocked out that I’ve completely forgotten to reach out to him. Of all my brothers, I’m the closest to him. To me, Terrance is—next to my father—the epitome of what a man should be. He is hard-working, compassionate, and deeply devoted to his wife and children. Interestingly, they say a woman can always tell how a man will treat her by watching how he treats his mother and sisters. Well, I agree that may be the case to some extent. However, that doesn’t always mean shit. My six brothers all treat me and my mother like queens and will do anything in the world for us. But when it comes to women in the streets, three of ’em (Tyrell, Lamont, and Trent) treat women any kind of way, cursing them out, putting them out on the highway, sleeping with their friends, doing all types of crazy shit to ’em. And these dumb chicks come back for more. Humph.

Then there are Terrance and Tyler, who are happily married and give their wives the utmost respect. My youngest brother, Thomas, who’s thirty-one, has four kids with three different baby mamas (who all have men) and he’s still sleeping with all three of them. They’ve let him know he can hit it anytime he wants it, no matter who they’re with. And on top of that he has a chick whom he lives with. Now what kind of shit is that?

Basically, I have four brothers who have some serious issues when it comes to women and commitments. So you can’t always go by what you see, believe that. But Terrance is definitely an example to the rule.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you, but things at work have been keeping me busy, and I keep getting sidetracked. How have you been? How are my nieces and nephew doing?”

“We’re all doing good, thanks for asking. How ’bout you? What’s been up with you? I don’t need to fly out there to choke anyone up, do I?”

I laugh, knowing he’d be out here in a heartbeat if he thought some man was trying to disrespect, or God forbid, hurt me. If my father didn’t kill him first, Terrance would be next in line to put him out of his misery. Followed by my brother Tyler, who’s the second oldest. He’s a New Jersey state trooper, which is how I met Garrett.

Anyway, growing up in a house with all boys definitely had its advantages. Not only did they spoil me, but they were extremely protective of me. Sometimes it was suffocating, but I know it was all out of love for me.

And the beauty of growing up with brothers is that you get to listen, learn, and experience the inner workings of a man firsthand. See, my brothers taught me very early how a man is supposed to treat a woman, and how he shouldn’t. There are some things that they instilled in me that have stuck with me through life, such as: Never let a man put his hands on you, never let him disrespect you, never let him lay up on you, never fuck with a man you have to clean up, and if he’s a liar or cheater, get rid of his ass. And I live by that.

The disadvantage of having them around growing up was that they were always cock-blocking me. A sista couldn’t even get her fuck on. At one time, I had two brothers in college, three in high school, and one in junior high, so I couldn’t get away with shit. If a dude even thought about looking at me, they’d yoke him up and beat him down. So dudes weren’t trying to check for a chick with six overprotective brothers. And the ones who were bold enough to try ’n holla, I had to sneak in through my bedroom window, then hide in my closet or under my bed until it was safe to fuck. The crazy thing is the first guy who split this pussy open was my brother Lamont’s best friend, Derek.

Every night around eleven, I’d open my window so he could climb through it. He’d come in, take off all his clothes, and fuck me with his long, fat, black dick. He was eighteen, and I was fourteen. Yes, I was hot in the ass. I had been fingering and rubbing my pussy for almost two years and knew what it was like to experience an orgasm. But the first time he spread open my legs and kissed the inner part of my smooth brown thighs, then pulled apart my slick pussy lips and softly blew inside of me, forcing warm currents to flow throughout my body, I knew I’d never be the same

. He slid two long, thick fingers inside my tight pussy, twisting and stroking the inside of my walls, causing a fire to ignite within me, preparing me for his entry before climbing between my legs and pushing the head of his thick dick between the hungry, wet, shivering lips of my pussy. He entered me, stretched me—forced himself into my tightness, inch by inch, introducing me to a pleasantly intense, painfully sweet, more satisfying orgasmic experience than I ever knew was possible.

Over a two year period, everything sexual I had witnessed down in my basement watching my brothers, I performed and practiced with him. It was there on my canopy bed that I experienced the rites of passage into freakhood. And I’ve been chasing dick ever since.

“No, I’m good,” I say, pulling up into my garage, getting out of the car, then gathering my things. I open the door leading into the kitchen, then deactivate the alarm. “Just working, and keeping the peace. How’s the weather out there?” I drop my keys and purse on the granite island, then remove my heels. My damn feet are throbbing. I let out a sigh.

“It’s beautiful. Eighty-degrees with deep blue skies. What’s the weather like there?”

For October it’s been seasonably warm, almost like spring. And I’m glad ’cause I can’t stand it when it’s too hot, and hate it even more when it’s cold. “Gorgeous. It was sixty-five degrees today.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well too bad it’s not year round.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I snap playfully, “rub it in my face, show off.”

“Well, whenever you ready to trade in that cold weather for beautiful San Diego, you know we’d love to have you. And you know Mom and Dad would be thrilled.”

I smile, knowing they’d love nothing more than if I packed up and moved out there. I miss my parents, dearly, but I know I’d miss the east coast even more. There’s nothing like that east cock.

“I know ya’ll would. But you know I’d be bored out of my mind way out there. I need to be able to have access to the hustle and bustle of the city life,” I state, going upstairs to my bedroom, then removing my clothes. I’m hoping to take a quick nap before Nelson gets here and digs my guts out. I glance at the clock. It’s already quarter to six. “Besides, if I moved out there, you’d have no reason to miss me.”

“I’d always miss you, baby. And you being here would give me more reason to spend time with you.”

“Awwww,” I say, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, how’s life as a detective?” I ask, running water into the tub, then pouring in bath crystals. I can’t wait to put on my Conya Doss CD, lie back in the tub and relax.

“It’s great. I couldn’t have asked for a more rewarding experience. But, I’m looking forward to retiring in two more years. I’ve been thinking about teaching a criminal justice course at San Diego State.”

“And you’d be great at it,” I say. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too. You know Cherelle asked about you the other day,” he says, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I cringe at the sound of his wife’s name. “She wanted to know if I had heard from you.” Yeah, I’ll bet she did, I think, rolling my eyes. Fucking bitch!

When Terrance and Cherelle first got married, I really thought she was the one for him. And on the surface she was. She appeared really grounded and into my brother, but everything isn’t always what it seems. ’Cause that bitch showed me who she really is. And the one thing I learned in life is that when somebody shows you who they are, that is exactly who the fuck they are.

And, last year while I was in San Diego visiting my family, that ho did exactly that. She dragged me out to a male revue down in the Gas Lamp district at one of the many dance spots on the strip. Anyway, I’m not really into watching male dancers, strippers or whatever else you wanna call them. But she is, so whatever floats her boat. So, we’re in this club, and she’s drinking and drinking and getting looser by the moment; then somehow, she gets pulled up on the stage and allows this dancer to practically fuck her on the floor, and when he lifted her up and acted like he was fucking her standing up, she had the audacity to lick his damn face. I was too damn through! But I kept my cool, ’cause I’m thinking, “Okay, she’s simply letting her hair down a bit. No biggie.” The whole time something told me to take a damn picture of her ass, but against my better judgment, I didn’t.

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