Street Fame by K. Elliott Page A

him.
“Greetings, officer,” she teased.
“Don’t say that too loud.”
“So who are you watching tonight?”
“I’m not watching anybody. I just thought I would come by to check you out.”
“So you’re in my fan club, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” Mark said as he examined Jennifer’s evening gown. The gown was red and it gripped her body firmly. It was cut low at the top, revealing her huge breasts. Mark had never been a breast man; he’d always liked a woman’s ass. Jennifer had breast and ass, and this was a rarity for a white woman. Though her breast were probably on a payment plan, they looked nice.
She sat on his lap. He could feel his erection forming. He thought about the last time he’d had sex.
She grabbed his face. “So, are you going to buy me a drink?”
“Sure, why not?”
Jennifer stopped the waitress and ordered a double shot of Hennessy and Coke. Mark asked for a water. Their drinks arrived less than a minute later.
Jennifer drank her Hennessy in three gulps, and then said, “You know, Pratt, you’re not a bad looking guy.”
“Thanks, Jennifer.”
“How old are you?”
“Guess.”
“Thirty?”
“Would you believe that I’m thirty-five?”
“No. You’re kidding.”
He pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to her.
She stared at the picture for a long time.
“What are you looking at?”
“Scorpio, huh?” She smiled mischievously.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re a freak, Pratt.”
He took a drink of his water.
When the waitress came, Jennifer ordered another Hennessy and Coke.
“I’m a freak, huh?”
“Scorpio’s are sexual beings. They love sex. I know because I’m a Scorpio.
“Oh, really?”
She licked the side of his face. His penis started bulging.
She grabbed it and winked. “Do you want me, Pratt?”
He was silent. God, he wanted this woman at least for tonight. He didn’t answer her. Instead, he looked into her blue eyes; eyes that a lot of Blacks perceive as evil eyes. Black men had died for lusting after blue eyes and blonde hair, or at least speaking to them. The waitress dropped off a Hennessy refill.
Jennifer licked his face again.
“So, what do you see in Twin?”
“We’re not here to talk about Twin, again, are we? Let’s talk about me and you, Pratt. I know you want me, and I want you.”
“Really? You think I want you?”
She held the glass of Hennessy up to his mouth.
He looked around. The music was amplified. A new Fifty Cent song played in the background. He opened his mouth slightly, and she poured the liquor down his throat. He thought about his dad, the good Reverend. What would he think of his son being in a titty bar with a stripper—a white stripper? He was playing with the devil. He was playing with Eve and he’d partaken of her forbidden fruit.
She kissed his jaw and grabbed his penis again, then she poured more liquor down his throat. “I want you, Agent Pratt, and I know you want me or else you wouldn’t have come to the club tonight.”
*****
     
Twin screamed, “Lord have Mercy, I’m dead!”
    J-Black burst out with laughter. “Coward-ass nigga. Don’t you know the difference between a blank gun and a real burner?”
“Quit playing like that, J-Black.”
J-Black dug into his waistband, pulled out a black handgun, and cocked the hammer. “Now this is the real shit, nigga.”
“Quit playing.”
He took the clip out and showed twin the bullets. “Listen, muthafucka, I’m hungry out here, and I need to stick somebody. What about your boy? Do he have anything for me?”
“I don’t think so, man. I mean, his connect is in jail. It’s been kind of fucked up for everybody. What happened to the five bricks you kept?”
J-Black lit a cigarette. “Some muthafucka stole my truck that same day, with my stash in it, and I wasn’t gone but two minutes in a store.”
“J, man, this is my girl’s truck. You can’t smoke in here.”
“I do whatever the fuck I feel like doing.” J-Black blew