LoVe GRoOvE Part 6 By Michael Martell
RJ had put on his clothes and was sitting in the living room. He had blown out the candles in the bedroom and dinner was ruined as was the mood he had worked hard to set up. It was replaced by anger and disappointment. It was 9:45 PM and there was no Jerome anywhere. At first he was willing to give Jerome the benefit of the doubt but when it got to be 9:20, 9:30 and 9:40 he didn't care about giving Jerome anything except maybe a shot to the jaw for using him like that. Ah hell, it was his own damn fault for falling for a man like Jerome Browne. He should have fucking known better. When in the hell would he learn? Evidently, never.
RJ watched the clock change to 9:46 and decided that he was not going to sit around the house waiting for Jerome to decide to call. Fuck that shit. He picked up the phone and dialed Giovanni's cellphone number and after three rings Giovanni answered the phone.
"Hey Yo, this is Gio. Whazzup?" He said in his smooth sexy voice.
"Hey Gio, it's me."
"RJ? Hey my brotha, what up? Why you callin' me with a dick up your ass?" Giovanni howled with laughter but RJ wasn't laughing.
"Hey Gio, what you doing man?"
"Bout to step out the door and hit the Candy Shop. Why?"
"You want some company, from a brotha?" RJ asked.
"Hey, you my ace in the case. You always welcome to roll with me but don't you have some company?"
"Hell the fuck no. I was stood up." RJ snapped.
"Awww, Damnit man! What the fuck happened?"
"I wish I fucking knew. But I do know I'm staying around here like some love sick bitch. I'm out and if I find a brotha who can swing the dick, baby I'm swinging on it." RJ declared.
"I feel ya partna! You cool to drive? You won't me to roll by?"
"Naw Gio. I'll meet you at the Shop." RJ said.
"Cool then. Well, I'm out and I'll see ya at the Shop." Giovanni said as he hung up the phone. RJ went into the bedroom and changed into his going out clothes and sprinkled on his favorite cologne. He was on the prowl tonight and fuck Jerome-God Damn-Browne. RJ shut off the lights and grabbed his car keys. He set the alarm and locked the door and he was out.
As he slide behind the wheel of his car and started it up he was unaware that he was being watched and even if he didn't he would not have cared in the least. He tore off down the street dedicated in finding a hard thug to plug his ass tonight and to forget all about Jerome Browne.
Tee watched as RJ came out and jumped into his car and roared off down the street. There was no Jerome with him and Tee was getting a bad feeling about all this. Something was not right. He had been trying to call Jerome on his cellphone to no avail and now with RJ gone he was really wondering where Jerome was and what had happened to him. Where was he? Where could he be?
L.A.P.D homicide detectives, Sgt. Cleo Jones and Lt. Richard Dennis, arrived on the scene approximately thirty minutes after the crime had been committed. The patrolman who answered the call from the person who's car was hit by the victims gave them all the information he had.
"Personally," the young white patrolman said, "I think it's just another drive by shooting by a gang."
Sgt. Cleo Jones, 33 years old, five foot, eleven in height and a solid 190 pounds with a high and tight fade and a thin mustache looked at the young officer, who's name was Harper, and a small smile crossed his lips.
"And how do you deduce this?" Jones asks.
"Well, the victim is black..."
"Well, there you go, Sergeant. The case is solved." Lt. Richard Dennis spoke up with a sarcastic tone. Lt. Dennis was 43 years old but didn't look it. He looked ten years older but he was very handsome with a shaved bald head, a mustache and beard neatly trimmed. He stood well over six foot six in height and weighed 245 lbs. "So tell us, Officer Harper, more about your deductions of this being gang related?"
Officer Harper swallowed and realized that perhaps he had spoke out of turn.
"Well, ummm...he was shot multiple times and the shooters drove off quickly..."
Lt. Dennis raised his hand. "Hold it, Sherlock. Let me stop you before you put your feet deeper into your mouth. This was not gang related. The victim was shot by a revolver. Most gang related drive bys are done with automatic weapons. But beyond that, the fact that there are no skid marks also shoots a hole in your drove off quickly theory."
"As well as no witnesses hearing tires squeal at all before the gun shots." Sgt. Jones added.
"I would guess that this was a professional job. A hit..maybe. But whoever did this wanted the victim to remain silent and they knew him." Lt. Dennis said.
Harper spoke, "How do you figure that?"
Dennis and Jones looked at each other and shook their heads. "He was shot in the head and face area. A sure sign that the perps knew the victim."
"Perps?" Harper asked.
"Oh little wee one," Sgt. Jones said, his tone patronizing. "Our victim was shot by a large caliber weapon with hollow point bullets. It would be hard for the driver to be the shooter. Now, why don't you go find some African American drivers to profile and let us do our jobs." Jones snapped.
Officer Harper left feeling like dirt and regretting that he had ever opened his big mouth.
"So," Jones began, "you think it was a hit?"
"Yeah." Lt. Dennis said as he looked at the body of the victim. He noticed the victim's wallet on the seat and picked it up and opened it. There was $128 dollars in cash, three credit cards, and an uncashed check for fifty dollars. He pulled out the driver's license. Anthony Edward Romero. 1123 Lancaster Rd. Lt. Dennis looked around at the street signs.
"Whassup, LT?" Jones asked.
"Our victim's name is Anthony Romero and he has about 170 dollars on him, credit cards and only lives five blocks away from here. He was tailed and murdered for a reason. Call forensics and have them meet us at 1123 Lancaster."
Jerome awoke behind the wheel of his car which was still parked in the garage of the Wilshire Plaza Hotel. His head was not spinning but it felt like he had been kicked by the entire L.A. Lakers basketball team. His mouth was dry and he felt sick on his stomach. His memory was fuzzy as well. He remembered being with Khalil, fucking like crazy and drinking champagne and then leaving. He barely remembered getting into the elevator and getting into his car. He did remember someone calling his name or something like that but he couldn't remember anything else. He reached for his keys and realized they were in the ignition of the car. He glanced down at the clock in the car's dash and it read 10:15. Damn, he was late. RJ would be mad as fuck. he would go over to RJ's and make his apologies and after a little nap he would make it up to him. As he started the car he swore he would not drink champagne again.
At the time that Jerome was starting his car and leaving, the asst. night manager arrived at room 610. He had received a call that there was trouble in the room. He knocked on the door but got no answer. He knocked again and called out "Manager." And still got no answer. Using his key he opened the door and entered. The smell of scent candles filled the air and it was pretty dark in the room. He flipped the light switch just as he stumbled over the body of Khalil. He didn't have to wonder if he was dead. He could tell he was. Why did this shit have to happen when he was on duty?
The Candy Shop was an all black, gay night club. It was rather small but it stayed packed. It was the type of place where brothas who were out and on the 'DL" could mix and mingle and hook up. The music was hot and thumping, the brothas were fine as hell and the club was dark enough to where a brotha could cope a good feel of another and maybe get a blow job without everyone and his momma seeing. Giovanni loved the Shop and went there every chance he got. The Candy shop got it's name for the vast variety of brothas one could find there. There were the young and full of cum ruffneck, thugs with their B-Boy look and crazy hand gestures and slang. There were the suit and tie professional brothas who would breeze in to see how the other half thrills and to get them some. There were the DL brothas who wanted to get a nut or find a brotha to keep when they needed to cure their "ass jones". There were the hustlers, looking to score and the street trade looking to find a shelter for the night even if it came with a fuck. There were light skinned brothas from beige to burnt almond. There were medium complexioned brothas from milk chocolate to mahogany and there were deep dark brothas from deep dark dutch chocolate to devil fudge. The Candy Shop had ever flavor to delight and entice and if you couldn't get it at The Shop then you damn sure didn't need it.
Giovanni liked the ruffneck thugs especially the ones between 18 and 22. There was something about fucking a young tight ass that was too much to resist. He hadn't been in the shop two minutes when he felt the eyes of a young and drop dead fine young brother on him. The young brotha couldn't have been no more than 19 years old. He looked to be about six foot 2 in height and about two hundred solid pounds. He was wearing a white 'wife beater' with a black shirt worn around it and opened in the front. Several gold necklaces were draped around his neck and Giovanni could tell that brotha had a few gold teeth in his mouth. The jeans he wore were black and baggy but he could tell that the dick was hard and large. Little brotha shot Giovanni a head nod and a smile...yep, gold teeth. Giovanni returned the gesture but didn't move. His policy was simple. If you wanna taste of Gio, make the move.
Little brotha made the move as he walked almost effortlessly through the crowd of people making his way to where Giovanni stood near the bar. Soon they were face to face and Giovanni felt his dick spring to life instantly. This boy was too damn fine.
"Sup?" Little brotha said with a deep voice, that most of the young thug boys tried to get.
"Chillin' yo. Sup with you?" Giovanni answered.
"Shit, jus' checkin' a brotha out. They call me Flex."
Giovanni smiled. "They call me Giovanni."
Flex's eyes got big as silver dollars. "Cool name, yo. Like the rapper, huh?"
"Yeah, like the rapper" Giovanni answered. If little brotha didn't know who he was why educate him on it right now.
Flex licked his lips and ran his hand across his crotch. "I would love to 'rap' myself around you, yo."
"You ain't said nothing, little bruh. If you wanna taste, we can do it." Giovanni said.
Flex moved closer putting his hand on Giovanni's crotch and squeezed. He leaned closer and kissed Giovanni lightly on the lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Giovanni returned the favor by grabbing Flex's hard dick and stroking it through his jeans as he kissed him back and sucked on his tongue. The scene was getting hot as they stood there tonguing and groping each other down. Those that could see them were feeling the heat as well. Giovanni wrapped his arms around Flex's waist and his hands moved down and around his tight ass and he squeezed his tight as and kneaded his butt cheeks as Flex moaned and moved closer to Giovanni to grind his crotch against Giovanni's.
"Dayum..." Flex moaned into Giovanni's mouth. " I want you to fuck me, daddy."
Giovanni kissed him hard as he slipped his hands down the back of Flex's baggy pants and past his underwear, boxers, until he was touching his warm, naked and tight ass. He worked his hand and fingers along and around Flex's ass as the young man moaned and continued to grind into Giovanni's body. He could feel Flex's body responding to his hand working on his ass and as his fingers played around his asshole, Flex sucked in air and whimpered.
"Awww shit! Dayum, baby. You drivin' me crazy...ahhh!"
Giovanni smiled to himself. He was going to fuck this young, hot ass tonight. He would plunge little brotha til he couldn't think straight muchless walk straight.
RJ walked into the Candyshop and after allowing his eye to adjust to the dimmer light of the club he looked around for Giovanni. He managed to snag a 40 oz from the bartender as he looked around for Giovanni. Damn, if there weren't some fine ass brothas up in here. RJ pulled a healthy swallow of the 40. Oh hell yeah. He was going to get fucked up tonight and if he couldn't get fucked he'd find someone to fuck. Tonight he was going to get his anyway he could. He drained the remainder of the 40 and got another and after that one he got a third. He hadn't eaten and he was drinking on an empty stomach but he didn't care. As he looked around he saw this fine, red bone brother with a bald head and a black goatee. He was dancing to the music and was wearing only a pair of big legged jeans with a black T-shirt tucked in his back pocket. He was all sweaty and hot from dancing and he had a sexy, hairy chest. His nipples were pierced and there was a tattoo of a dragon on his right arm and a sword on his left. He wore two gold loop earrings in both ears and a small diamond stud in his nose. Brotha was sexy no doubt and even though there were brothas dancing around him and next to him it was clear that he was dancing alone.
Fuck the dumb shit. RJ thought. If them brothas were to damn scared to make a move, he wasn't. Brotha was too damn fine to be dancing alone and RJ was too damn horny and buzzed up to be afraid to approach him. Walkin to the dance floor like he owed the place, RJ walked up to red brotha and began grinding behind him as he grabbed him around the waist. Brotha red didn't look back as he began to back that ass up and move with RJ's body and movements. He bent over at the waist and wiggles his ass as RJ bumped and grinded. The others on the dance floor stopped to watch them dance. RJ spun red brotha around and they began to move closer to each other grinding their hot bodies together. Red brotha began to dance and squat down lower so that his face was in front of RJ's crotch. If RJ had been less horny and not buzzing he would not have been on the dance floor and he would have been self conscious about his hard erection in this man's face. Right now, it was fuck all that shit and let's get crazy.
Brotha red came back up and immediately began to remove RJ's shirt exposing RJ's great looking chest. He leaned in closer and whispered into RJ's ear.
"My name is Trench. You are sexy as shit and a damn good dancer." And with that Trench kissed RJ's chest and licked his nipples. It sent bolts through RJ and the crowd began to hoot and holla. RJ looked into Trench's eyes, which were light brown and seductive. RJ smiled and kissed Trench's chest, sucked his nipples and as Trench yelped, RJ licked a trail from Trench's nipples to his belly button. He stuck his tongue in hi belly button and Trench laughed and pulled RJ up.
"Damn it! Shit, I'm ticklish as hell!" He giggled. RJ smiled and moved behind Trench and wrapped his arms around his chest as he licked a trail down his back, which Trench arched. He closed his eyes as he felt that hot tongue moving down his spine stopping right at the top of his jeans. The crowd on the dance floor were chanting 'more!' 'more!'
The excitement on the dance floor got Flex and Giovanni's attention and they stopped to see what was up. Giovanni smiled when he saw RJ doing the sexiest and the dirtiest dancing he had ever seen outside of a bed or a porno flick.
"Dayum...they are fucking hot." Flex commented. He looked at Giovanni and realized he was smiling. "Do you know them?"
"I know the one with the dreads. That's my boy, RJ. I don't know who the fine motherfucker is he's grooving with though."
"That's Trench," Flex said. "He is one sexy motherfucker. He is a dancer, stripper and parttime porno star and hustler."
Giovanni raised an eyebrow. "Damn! Who you? Fucking Columbo?"
Flex looked back and flashed a sexy smile. "Naw..but soon you'll be fucking me."
Giovanni smiled. He had an idea. Grabbing Flex they joined Trench and RJ on the dance floor. Giovanni spun Flex around and began a bump and grind on the dance floor. RJ and Trench smiled as they acknowledged their competition. They went into action as they grabbed hold to each other and did their own thing. The crowd hollered and yelled as the four went into a hot and sexy dance orgy. There were many that were watching who's dicks were rock hard as they watched the action. Soon all four were all together dancing in a huddle.
"Dayum...we got these niggas dicks hard like rocks." Flex said.
"Damn them. My dick is hard like steel." Trench declared with a big, white smile.
"Then my brothas, let's get out of here and go to my place where we can drink, smoke and...fuck all night long and into the day."
RJ smiled. "Damn! I'm down with that."
Jerome arrived at RJ's place. He as still fuzzy headed and tired and all he wanted to do was fall into a bed. As he stepped out of the car he felt sick to his stomach, the world spun and he fell to the ground.
Tee saw Jerome pull up and he watched as he got out of the car and he could tell something was wrong. Tee was out of the Expedition and running towards Jerome just as he fell to the ground. He'd seen Jerome drunk and he'd seen him high. Right now, he was neither.
"C'mon, little brotha. We got to get you out of here." Tee said as he lifted Jerome up and put him back into his car. Tee drove off as he dialed a number on his cellphone. "Hey! This Tee. I need your help. Swing by 1254 Palm Terrace and get my truck and meet me at Jerome's. I think he's in trouble...and bring a gun...just in case." Tee hung up and looked over at Jerome.
"Damn little brotha. What you done got yourself into?"
Lawrence was sitting in his office with a smile on his face and a brandy in his hand. Marcellus and Elijah were with him. Tonight was a great night. Everything was going better than he had hoped. He had drugged the champagne knowing that the mixture would be fatal for Khalil but not Jerome, though he would be dizzy and forgetful of some events but he wouldn't die. When they find Khalil's body the fun would really begin. Marcellus and Elijah had taken care of Tony Romero. They even went to his home and made sure there was nothing to link Romero to Lawrence. As he sipped his brandy, Lawrence felt a great sense of accomplishment and with that came a wave of sexual excitement.
"Boys, I need some company." Lawrence said
Marcellus and Elijah looked at each other and smiled. "The Shop?"
"Perfect place for a new trick to treat with. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."
2 B Continued
The author can be reached here MychaelMartell@aol.com