RIPPED & READY – Season Four
(Boys to Men)
RIPPED & READY (S4/PART 1)
RIPPED & READY S4/I
Life, the incredible passage of time summed up into four simple letters that encompass a constantly unfolding unpredictable experience. I would have never imagined in a million years that I would become an addict, but when you make the choice to use illicit substances you open up the lid to Pandora’s Box and closing it becomes relentless efforts composed of a multitude of failed attempts to quit. That evening as I sat side by side with my boy, Marco Thompson, I was pretty amped up on the powder, and when he called me on it my first reaction was to deny it, however, my defensiveness “dimed” me out.
Peewee Jones’ subtle persuasiveness during that initial invitation suggested an erotic encounter was about to occur, and like a bitch in heat I accepted it without realizing the exorbitant price that I would have to pay for engaging in such activities. The main reason I went over to his house to begin with was to discuss a partnership pertaining to my musical endeavors, but one thing turned into another and I found myself unable to resist his animal magnetism. He was wearing a grey pair of cotton sweats without any underwear, and I couldn’t take my eyes off that unsightly bulge protruding from them.
As time progressed, it would grow and deflate like it was on a timer, but instead of ignoring it and keeping my eyes where they belonged, above the waist; I allowed them to frequently wander down to his crotch area. On more than one occasion he caught me glaring at it, and each time he did a seductive smile would triumphantly stretch across his ruggedly handsome face. The first time he caught me peeping at it I was embarrassed, fearful that he would take offense to my actions, but my discomfort quickly subsided with each approving grin.
His silent acknowledgement enticed my lustful curiosity and by the end of the second hour in his company, I couldn’t contain the onslaught of erections taking place between the warmth of my inner thighs. The anticipation of what might occur sent my sexual desire into overdrive, and the harder I tried to avoid getting sucked into seduction’s lair, the more excited I became. It was as if I had lost all control over my sense of reasoning.
He knew it too, and once he realized that I was at the point of no return he whipped out a tiny rectangular package from his upper pocket, opened, and dumped the white substance onto a circular mirror sitting in front of him on the coffee table. He didn’t offer me any of it right away, instead he leaned backwards onto the couch he was sitting on, spread his legs wider than they were before, and then he slid his right hand into the waistline of the sweats he was wearing.
There was a noticeable drop in the tone of his voice when he picked the conversation we were having back up where it had stopped prior to him spreading the contents of the package onto the mirror. By this time he groped what was struggling to be contained freely, squeezing it repeatedly to assure me that he was down for whatever, and I felt utterly helpless. The apprehensive expression on my face must’ve sent him a message that, if there was going to be a first move made, it would have to come from him.
I guess he had read my mind, because that’s when he pulled the front of his sweatpants down, exposing the massive meat he had been fondling. The length of it was above average, and the massive head of it was swollen to capacity. He looked down at it then over at me, slowly stroking it in a calculated rhythm while licking his lips. As I watched the performance from where I sat, I couldn’t help wondering what vibe I threw off that would make him feel comfortable enough to do what he was doing.
“Hey, nigga, why you sitting over there acting scared, like you ain’t down with this shit, I already know about you and your boys, because y’all hang around one another just like me and mine do, so don’t pretend you’ve never fucked with another dude before, you handsome, hazel-eyed, muthafucka,” He said, in a seductive tone, branching away from the business discussion we had been having.
“I don’t know where you’ve been getting your information from, Peewee, but you way off the mark, brotha,” I told him, in an effort to avoid admission.
He shook his head and chuckled.
There was no possible way he could know that I had kicked with Marco and Collin, because neither of them would put our business out there in the street to be scrutinized by other people, especially Collin, and even though Marco was gay, I knew he would never breach the trust between us. I knew Peewee hoped I would affirm his accusation, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I kept my mouth shut and denied it.
“Nigga, who in the fuck do you think you’re talking too? What’s done in the dark always comes to the light,” He said, snickering, leaning forward towards the coffee table.
Without putting his mouth-watering beef back into his boxers, he took his hand off of it, took a playing card from the stack of 52 he had sitting nearby, and he scooped up a dash of cocaine on the corner end of it and hit his left nostril, then repeated the action with his right one. Once he hit both sides the second time, he leaned backwards onto the couch again and resumed his masturbatory activity.
“Your turn,” He said, motioning for me to partake.
“Naww, man, I don’t fuck around with that shit,” I told him, which was the truth because, at the time, I had never fucked around with the shit. I had no plans on doing it either – especially after witnessing what it had done to my former girlfriend, Marco’s stepsister, Denise Thomas.
“Dude, you ain’t going to become an addict just by taking a one hit, damn, stop acting like a terrified little bitch, D’Andre,” he said, in an irritated tone.
Now, when I look back on that moment, all I can do is shake my head. How could I have been so “got-dayum” stupid to let Peewee talk me into doing that shit? I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, but that one was the one that I regretted the most, because it caused me to stray way off track. Everything that I held sacred was now in jeopardy. All of my dreams were quickly being chipped away every time I inhaled that white powder, and Marco knows that I am destroying myself, but I feel so defenseless against its lure.
I used to pride myself in my appearance, but now my complexion is showing signs of the wear and tear I was putting on my body. I couldn’t even remember the last time I worked out, or even dribbled a basketball. My father and mother were also concerned about me too, especially since I had left college to pursue a career in music. Both of them looked at me like I had lost my damn mind when I returned home in the middle of a semester earlier in the year. My dad was very vocal with his displeasure.
“Are you out of your damn mind, son, you’ve been talking about college ever since you were in the sixth grade, and now you’re telling us that you want to be a fucking rapper? Boy, what the hell do you know about the streets? Not a motherfucking thing! I’m telling you right now, you had better get your shit together and take your ass back to school or you will need to get a job and find another place to live, because I refuse to take care of a grown ass man!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
That showdown between my father and I had taken place six months ago, and with each passing day, the friction between he and I was getting stickier. Now if that wasn’t enough to rattle my cage, the recent gun battle that had taken place earlier in the court where we lived should have sent the clearest signal to me that it was time to clean up my act , and get my ass back into school. I mean, what company would hire me without a college degree? I wouldn’t even be able to pass a fucking drug test, so it was futile for me to even apply anyway.
The only trump card I had left to play was that I knew who the real father of Tootchie’s baby was, and if I had to resort to blackmail in order to maintain a roof over my head, then I was going to do what I had to do. Hell yeah, keep fucking with me and I’ll expose your dirty little secret. I had almost slipped up and disclosed the real father’s identity during a moment of weakness, but I came to my senses and realized that I needed to hold onto that knowledge just a little bit longer; however, Marco is a pretty inquisitive black man, so I knew that he would revisit that topic once he felt I was mentally stabilized, but in due time all would be revealed.
D’Andre Washington, this is your life…
Author G. D. Grace reserves all rights and reproduction without written permission is not permitted. If found, legal action will be taken against the person(s) or company(s) that have cut or pasted (Plagiarized) any portion of this written document. Author, G. D. Grace; Published © 2010 November