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Tamara had been blindfolded for the trip, but she didn't mind. She had been working nearly thirty days to get this close to Leon. The invitation to his home alone was well worth all of the work.
"Okay, that'll be it for the night." Tamara heard Leon say to the driver, who was responsible for delivering her safely. She liked the way he did things-he wasn't shy about spreading his power or wealth around.
"We'll take that off as soon as we get inside," Leon said.
Tamara listened to the gravel crunch beneath the truck's tires as the driver took off.
Even in semidarkness, Tamara's beauty stood out. She was a pecan color, with an oval-shaped face. She paid for the permanent eyeliner that gave her almond-shaped eyes a finished appearance at all times. Her fulllips looked naturally lined, and she had a beauty mark just beneath her right nostril. Sometimes she switched it to the left, but the right side had become sort of her trademark. Tamara was tall, thanks to the four-inch heels she damn near slept in. She was slim, thanks to the rigorous workout she did religiously four days a week. And she needed a slim, tight body for times just like these. Tamara stood silently inside the foyer, waiting for Leon to remove the blindfold from her eyes.
She didn't know why he felt the need to go through all this so-called security anyway. If someone really wanted to find him, they would, just as she had. But Leon was known for being cautious. He said he didn't like anybody at his house; he had even rented a car service just to bring Tamara up for the night. A few minutes later, with blindfold removed, she stood, freezing, at the entry to his living room. Leon had turned the air down because it was hot and humid in Houston, even at two in the morning. Tamara gazed around the room, trying to act unimpressed as she took in her surroundings.
The first thing to catch her eye was the open stairway, which stretched the entire length of the second floor. There was a cascading staircase near the foyer. A large leather sectional sat to her right, but it still didn't take up a lot of space. The massive plasma-screen TV, which hung directly across from it, nearly made her lose her breath.
When Leon walked away from the eight-foot mahogany door and past her, she smelled his lingering cologne.
Hmmm, he sure knows how to do it. The Cristal, the seafood on ice, and music playing in the background. He even has the nerve to have his double-sided fireplace burning.
Leon was larger than life, known for doing things real big. He stretched back on his Italian leather sofa, his fingers laced behind the back of his head. Tamara didn't hesitate to drop her trench coat in a grand way. Wearing only a black lace thong and matching pushup bra, she tried to act indifferent to the surroundings that stretched out before her eyes.
"Hmm, Victoria's Secret fall catalog, page sixty-five," Leon said, sucking his teeth.
"All for you, Daddy. You see, I know exactly what you like." Tamara strutted in front of Leon, making sure his eyes took in every nook and cranny of her goddess of a body. Before she turned to face him, she tried to glance at the clock in the dining room.
She didn't want to appear too anxious, but the juices from her coochie had already started a trail down her inner thigh. She'd fuck Leon if she had to, make no mistake about it-this was all business, as far as Tamara was concerned. Leon looked like he had died and gone to heaven, even though Tamara hadn't even laid a finger on his body yet.
Leon wasn't a big man; he stood a mere five feet six inches tall. He wasn't bulky, but you could tell he lived well. He wasn't sporting no beer belly either. Leon kept his fingers manicured, his feet as clean and nice as a female's, and was always groomed. One thing for sure, Tamara liked his style.
"Come here, Ma. Daddy got something real nice for you," Leon crooned.
"And I want it too. I want all of it." Tamara waltzed over to the couch near Leon. She gazed down at his crotch and saw just how excited he was about her little performance. Tamara dropped down to her knees and spread his legs open. She used her hand to stroke his stiff dick through his pants. She shoved his shirt up and planted a trail of wet kisses all around his navel.
Leon eased his head back in sheer ecstasy. "Oh, girl, shit, that's what I'm talking about." He used his hand to stroke her shoulder-length auburn curls. Tamara eased beyond his reach. She didn't want her wig to come off, not that it ever had while she was getting busy, but she didn't need to take any chances.
Tamara reached her hand into his pants and stroked him again. His flesh felt good and hot in the palm of her hand. When he released a growling moan, Tamara glanced toward the clock and then the door.
"C'mon, lick it, girl," Leon said, moaning.
"You want me to lick it, Daddy?" Tamara asked breathlessly.
"Emm-hmm," Leon moaned again.
"Ah, you-you want me to lick it for you, Daa-ddy?"
"C'mon, girl. You got a brotha in pain over here, it's time for some real action," he pleaded.
A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. She smiled as Leon's eyes rolled up into the back of his head, just from the hand action alone.
Just as Tamara had made up her mind to deep throat Leon, the front door was suddenly smashed off its hinges.
"Don't move and you won't get hurt!" the husky voice screamed.
Tamara jumped, screamed, then crawled up onto the sofa. "Oh, my God, what the fuck is going on! Leee-oon!" she screamed.
Leon couldn't catch his bearings fast enough; he looked around as the masked gunmen rushed into the room.
"C'mon, nigga, you know what we want. Get your ass up!" the stocky one shouted.
"Oh shit! What the fuck? What the fuck," Tamara screamed, shivering as she reached for a pillow to cover her naked body. "Leee-on," she cried.
"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm a blast a hole through your fucking head," the skinny one said, holding a sawed-off shotgun to Tamara's head.
Tamara's heart nearly stopped. The tears forming in her eyes froze and pooled, but they didn't dare fall.
"Man, y'all making a mistake, you don't know who you fuckin' wit, young buck." Leon eyed the gunman closely.
"Nigga, if you don't get up and get what the fuck we want, you gon' be that dead nigga. Old head!" He nudged Leon in the chest with his shotgun. "Now c'mon, we ain't got all day."
"The safe, nigga, the safe," the gunman at the door yelled.
Reluctantly Leon eased up off the couch. He looked at Tamara, who had her head buried in the palm of her hands. "I'ma take care of this, don't worry," he assured her.
"I just wanna go home," she cried.
"Yo! You ain't goin' nowhere! You need to shut the fuck up, I ain't gonna tell you again. Crying bitches don't do nothing but make me nervous. And when I get nervous, my fingers get to twitchin'," he said.
The gunman standing near Leon pulled out a large duffel bag. "C'mon, let's go, nigga'."
"Yeah, fill that bitch up, or you's a dead-ass nigga," the man at the door screamed.
Nearly an hour later, Leon was screaming as he spoke on the phone.
"I don't know who them fools are, but they done robbed the wrong motherfucka! That shit was foul. Look, round up the cavalry, I need a line on them niggas."
Tamara sat in the corner, wrapped tightly in her trench coat. She had been ready to go the minute the gunmen ran out of the house. But Leon had asked, no, told her to stay put. She didn't have time for this kind of shit. She sat back and watched as he ranted and raved all around the house, cussing and fussing about how them niggas jacked him up.
He tried to say the money wasn't nothing, but if that was truly the case, Tamara felt like he would've dropped it long ago.
"It's the motherfuckin' principle!" he screamed into the phone. "Niggas in H-town know I'm that nigga, and I ain't to be fucked with!"
Tamara rolled her eyes and pulled the band around the waist of her trench coat. She didn't care if she ever laid eyes on Leon again. She just wanted out.
Target: Bobby McNeal, aka Gin
Holdings: numerous successful drug houses in Houston, owns four spas and two adult-video stores, silent partner in Pleasures Gentleman's Club, 2004 big-body Benz, BMW SUV, Porsche
Estimated street net worth: 10 million
Drop schedule: the 16th & 2nd monthly (in addition to offshore accounts), lots of cash, doesn't trust banks
Security detail: travels with entourage, no known address, moves around regularly
Weakness: women with light-colored hair, loves visiting gentlemen's clubs, blow jobs, Hennessy on the rocks
Misc: never seen during the day, fear of heights, anal-sex fetish
Nikki had been standing in the lobby of Pleasures Gentleman's Club, off Westheimer, for about an hour. She was becoming restless. "I'll bet they make a grip in this mug," she said aloud as she looked around the club.
Nearly twenty minutes after that thought, her cell phone rang. "Yeah?" she said, closely eyeing every man who walked through the doors.
"He just pulled up," Marleeta said.
"Damn, it's about time. I was getting tired of holding up the wall in this mug," Nikki said.
"'Kay, get to work. Call if you need anything," Marleeta said before Nikki pressed the end button on her cell phone.
She quickly dropped the cell phone into her Prada bag and rushed off to the ladies' room. She made sure her makeup was just right. Nikki was sporting a platinum blond wig with a fierce pageboy haircut. She had on a black spandex bodysuit that made her ass look even bigger than it was. The "come fuck me" heels polished off her look. Confident that she had waited long enough, she rushed out of the ladies' room and grabbed the first waitress she bumped into.
Nikki produced a one-hundred-dollar bill. "I need you to keep the Hennessy flowing. On the fifth refill, I want you to tell Gin, the lady doesn't want to see his glass empty."
"Gin don't have to pay for no drinks in here, lady," the waitress said.
"Yeah, I know, but I need you to let him know someone wanted to pay for him to drink tonight." The waitress eyed the bill again, then quickly snatched it from Nikki's hand.
"Okay, where you gonna be by the time he gets to the fifth drink?"
"Sitting directly across from him," Nikki said.
For the next hour, she watched from the darkest corner of the club as the waitress gave Gin refills on his drink. When she brought the fifth glass, Nikki saw her bend slightly to whisper in his ear. A few minutes later, she watched as Gin scanned the club. When his gaze stopped at the bar, she smiled and held her glass up, as if she was making a toast.
Gin raised his glass, then motioned to one of the members in his entourage. He said something to the man, then swallowed his drink in one gulp.
"Nikki, Gin wants you at his table tonight," the voice came out of nowhere.
Nikki took her time and sashayed over to the table. She could see Gin acting as if he wasn't staring at her, but she knew she had him. Finally, she thought. They'd been working him for nearly two months.
Later that night, she sat in the passenger seat of Gin's Hummer as they zoomed down Westheimer.
"We not getting a room?" she asked as they drove in the opposite direction of the Hotel Derek.
"Later. Right now, I got a run I need to make. It's business, baby girl," he said. When they passed Highway 6, Gin turned to the right, and Nikki started wondering just where the hell they were going.
A black Blazer was waiting when Gin pulled up in the deserted park. Another truck pulled up and blocked Gin's Hummer. "Yo, stay put, I'll be back in a sec."
Nikki cracked her window, in hopes of hearing the conversation. She recognized the man from the bar as the one who got out of the truck and joined Gin as he walked up to two men. She heard Gin ask, "You got my shit?" She watched through the visor mirror as he looked quickly between the two men who stood in front of him.
"We wouldn't be here if we didn't," the shorter one said.
Gin looked them up and down again. "Y'all ain't five-o or nothin', right?"
"Man, I ain't got time for this shit!" the taller man yelled. "Chill, man, chill," the short man warned.
"Bobby, we been doing business for a minute. The cash is all here, a cool quarter of a mil, you can count it if you need to." He smirked.
Gin nodded to his boy. "Get the cash, and give 'em their shit," he instructed.
The four men were near a deserted part of town; they were just behind George Bush Park in Houston. The road out there was deserted enough, at 3:00 A.M. After the deal went down, Gin watched his boy Sam climb into his truck and pull off, leaving Gin alone with his money and his treat: Nikki.
When Sam's taillights had long disappeared, Gin walked around to the passenger side of his Hummer. The only lights for miles came from his parking lamp, but it was enough for what he wanted to do. He glanced down inside the truck, but he didn't open the door. Instead, he walked to the back and opened the hatch to look at the two briefcases full of cash. Although he knew no one else was with them, he still looked around and saw darkness in every direction. "C'mon out here, Nikki."
"Yes, boo," she cooed.
The door slowly opened and Nikki stepped out. By the time she arrived at the back of the Hummer, Gin had already used the cash to line the floor of the truck.
Nikki unzipped her bodysuit and stepped out of it. She was wearing a black lace thong and her pumps. She tried to act indifferent to the mountain of cash laid out before her eyes.
She told herself she wasn't going to fuck tonight, but the sight of all that money made her coochie tingle, and it changed her mind. She instantly knew, she'd have to do whatever he might want; if that meant fucking, she'd be down. It was all business, and their motto was "Do whatever it takes to get the job done."
"Damn, Nikki. I wanna wax that ass right on top of all this paper." Gin smiled.
"And I want you to wax it too, baby." She smiled. "Just make sure you wax it real good," she cooed.
Gin extended his hand and helped her hop up into the truck.
"Damn, girl, that's what's up. You got enough room back there?"
Nikki stretched her body across the bills.
"That's right, baby girl. I like the look of that paper next to your skin, all over you. Yeah, that's what's up fo' real." He stroked his crotch.
"Why don't you come up here," Nikki said.
"Okay, but lemme see what I'm working with."
Nikki turned and got on all fours. With her ass in the air, she knew for sure she'd be fucking.
Gin reached for her ass. First he stroked it; then he rubbed his cheek next to it. "Damn, a nice phat ass. Girl, I can't wait to wax this." Gin took her hand and placed it on his stiff erection. "You ready for this, girl?"
"Bring it on. Let's do this," she said enthusiastically. "I been dreaming all night about you all up in me. Let's do this, baby."
Gin slipped off his pants and hopped up on the truck. With Nikki on her hands and knees, he eased his body behind her. He pulled his boxers down and rubbed his dick against her ass; first he stroked her cheek with his dick, then slipped it up the crack.
"Sssssss," Nikki moaned.
Gin reached forward and squeezed her breast. He pinched her nipple until she released a growling squeal. Then he reached his hand down to her clit and rubbed her wetness from the front to the back. Nikki closed her eyes tightly, anticipating his penetration.
He took the head of his dick and eased it into her asshole.
"C'mon, girl, you can take it. Ooooh, it's so nice and tight."
Nikki released the breath she had trapped in her throat. "Emm," she managed.
When he reached over and smacked her ass, she gyrated her hips and moved into his stiff erection.
"Nigga, if you know what's best for you, you'll stop right there!" a voice said.
"What the fuck!"
Nikki heard Gin scream. It felt as if his dick immediately lost its strength and quickly softened.
Excerpted from TRY ME by RIKKI DIXON Copyright © 2009 by Rikki Dixon. Excerpted by permission.
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