“Wake up sleepy
head.”
I heard her silky,
sultry voice. It was only seconds before I felt the terse sting of the hard
slap across my clean-shaven cheek. I was now alert for the most part. That was
the end of my groggy haze and the beginning of something unknown. Where? What?
Who? Questions jumped into my brain and held me down. Focus Ben. I told myself
as I searched for lucidity.
My eyes slowly
crept open to the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Was I dreaming? Did I
fall asleep on the couch watching one of those black movies? If so, I was
dreaming of the most beautiful black woman I had ever seen. She can’t be real.
She must be someone from a movie or one of those primetime TV shows.
Her dark eyes were
stunning, alluring in a way that I had never encountered. Her lips were plump,
rosy and ready to be kissed. I was becoming aroused for no reason other than
her sexy appearance.
Why did I have a
headache if this was a dream? Why did I feel the rigid burn of the smack to my
jaw? I know that I am awake. This is not one of my drowning dreams. This isn’t
a figment of much needed slumber? Is… this… real? I asked myself because it
just can’t be.
Reality hit me
hard with the sudden inexplicable truth. Why the fuck are my arms tied behind
my back? I tried to move, tried to edge in some direction or another. My arms
were tangled and twisted. I couldn’t move my hands. I was bound to a chair. No,
I was handcuffed to a chair.
I tried to move my
hands and I could hear the metal of the cuffs cling against my seat. I looked
down at the dark gray cement floor and then back up at the fancy dressed black
lady in high heels, my dream lady. Is she the one that slapped me? There was no
one else standing anywhere near me. It had to be. Why?
She was looking
down at me smiling, more accurately she was smirking. She was dressed in all
black, black leather pants with black leather pumps, a sheer black shirt with a
bright apple red bra underneath, a red bra to match her bold red lipstick. I
studied her carefully soaking up every detail. Her hair was shiny, black, long,
hanging on her shoulders and it stopped at her elbows. She donned the body of a
goddess and the face of an angel.
“Benicio
Pendelton.” She purred in a voice just as sexy as her curvaceous body. She even
sounds like a princess.
My reverie was
paused when I noticed the two huge men standing behind her. They were a few
feet away from her shapely yet slender frame. The two men had visible guns in
their waistbands, huge guns. This is not a dream. This is as real as real can
be.
“Who, what?” I
found my voice although my throat was dry and raw.
“Who, what.” She
mocked me with her brightly painted red lips.
“My name is Ben
Knox.”
“Benicio
Pendelton.” She chanted with minimal vigor.
“No, Ben Knox.” I
offered once more. I waited for her to respond but she didn’t so I took the
moment to further my cause. “I don’t know this guy you’re looking for.”
The corners of her
lips rose to taunt me with an ominous smile. She chuckled and looked back at
the gun-toting goon standing behind her to the left. He was a bald black man
with a hard face and square jaw. I couldn’t imagine him smiling, ever. I could
imagine him killing someone with his bare hands.
Just like a
trained lapdog the black man stepped forward. He removed his gun from the
waistband of his jeans and handed it over to the lady.
She took the gun
with a familiarity. She removed the safety and pointed it at me, right at my
face. What the fuck is going on here? She rushed forward and grabbed a hulking
chunk of my hair. She tilted my chin to the ceiling. She had me tight, shit,
real tight! It hurts like fucking hell.
I felt her
fingernails dig into my scalp. She pressed the gun to my temple. The steel was
warm and I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. Something like please
help me. Don’t let me die here like this. I opened my eyes only blinking a
few too many times to count. What the fuck is going on here?
“Look
motherfucker!” She growled into my face. “I will blow those fucking blue eyes
out your orbital cavity if you fuck with me!”
“Please stop!” I
thought she was going to claw my brains out. “What do you want?”
“I want you to
tell me the truth, Benicio. I don’t have time for games.”
“Okay, Okay!
Please.”
She loosened her
grip on my hair. She was staring down at me and her dark eyes were cold and
lifeless but still somehow striking.
I didn’t doubt for
one minute that she would put a bullet in me. Beautiful but deadly was an
understatement. She had an angel face with a devil’s heart. This chick meant
business but I didn’t have any business. This was a terrible mistake. She would
soon realize this and be upset with herself. That is my hope.
She bent down and
stopped inches from my lips. If my tongue jetted out my mouth it would touch
her lips. I got a whiff of her breath. It smelled like lemon flavored cough
drops.
“Benicio
Pendelton.”
I felt the urge to
deny that name but soon decided against it.
“Yes.” I felt like
crying but I wasn’t going to die here in front of this ruthless chick no matter
how stimulatingly sexy she was. I wasn’t going to give her the pleasure of my tears.
Fuck You! My motto, my creed, my declaration of independence, I will die with
defiance in my spirit.
She abruptly let
me go but not without tossing my head back and jerking my neck to whiplash
status.
“Frank.” She took
a step back. The square-jawed, bald, black guy stepped forward. She placed the
gun behind her back and he took his gun back. I sighed an internal sense of
relief as he tucked the pistol into his waistband.
The lady looked
down at me and she stepped into my face with her closed fist. Wham! Right into
my cheek. She socked me so hard I almost fell over in the chair. FUCK! That
hurt. She didn’t hit like a girl. My jaw was on fire but my headache completely
disappeared into thin air. She fucking hit me? I questioned her actions as if
they hadn’t actually happened, like I didn’t have a front row seat to the
madness. The slap, the punch, the gun, what is going on here?
She looked back at
the two goons. “Leave me alone with him.” She dismissively ordered.
Both of the men
sort of bowed but it was a stiff subtle movement. I noticed the other guy
clearly. He was an older tanned white guy with muscles galore and arm tats
befitting a rockstar. He might have looked at me and smirked. My vision is
blurry. Maybe he knows something I don’t. Am I better off alone with her?
