Gods & Gangsters. Solomon
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she wanna wait until you find out what up with your case.”
Now it was Power’s turn to smile. “I already know. My man’s just wrote me. I’m good.”
C-Allah didn’t need to hear the details. One look in Power’s eyes and he automatically understood.
“That’s what’s up, though. Your peoples some official niggas. I’ma have to start giving you Queens Boro niggas some credit,” C-Allah remarked.
“Credit? Nigga, you Fort Greene niggas wouldn’t last a week on the 81st side. It’s all Vietnam, God. Serious Apocalypse Now. Don’ make me bring down the horror” Power boasted but with a smile.
They both playfully got in their fighting stance and began to play box.
Someone at the cell door cleared their throat.
Power and C-Allah dropped their hands, but not before giving each other a play shot each to make it a draw.
They turned around to see Officer Kim Jones at the door. She stood with one hand on one sexy ass hip. She was a bad bitch and she knew it.
“You know y’all ain’t supposed to be playing horse in here,” she remarked.
Her Jamaican tongue twirled around her Brooklyn accent, making everything she said sound like a song.
C-Allah looked at Power then gave him dap because he already knew what time it was.
“Yo, handle your business, kid,” he chuckled as he walked out. Kim gave him a side-eye which sliced him dead, and stepped into the cell. “Cell search,” she smirked.
“Didn’t you just search me yesterday?” Power said, smiling and playing along.
“You a security threat, so I got to watch you. Now put your blind up so nobody see what I find,” she gave him that I’ma fuck the shit out of you look. Power knew the look well and was hard already. Power put his towel over the window in his door so no one could see what was about to go down. As soon as he did, Kim put her hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall. He didn’t want to resist this search.
“You got any weapons on you?” she asked, kissing his neck and raking her nails over his six pack.
“You think I would tell you if I did?” he replied, wriggling his hand down the back of her uniform pants over soft, warm flesh. Kim purred and pushed out against his hand. He knew she enjoyed the rake of his nails along her skin.
Kim reached into Power’s peel, that was unzipped to the waist and already off his shoulders. She pulled his dick out and began squeezing it.
“Look what I found,” Kim giggled, “A baseball bat.”
Power nuzzled her neck, up to her ear. “Come here,” he said, taking full control. He spun her around and made her face the wall. He began kissing her neck and licking the fuzz of hair at the nape. Power undid her belt one handed, with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. Kim’s pants slid down like they were cooperating fully, releasing her fat, juicy ass. Power spread her ass cheeks and slid two fingers in her pussy.
“Ssss damn, don’t tease me. Hurry up before the Sergeant come looking for me,” there was lust in her voice.
“Fuck the Sergeant.”
“No, fuck me!” she shot back, reaching around and grabbing his dick, before cocking one knee against the wall and pulling him into her.
Power plowed into her wetness with all of the force he could find — at the same time moving Kim’s mouth against the back of his hand on the wall to block the sounds that were growling there. Power did not want her to tell the whole pod how good his dick felt. She took it like a big girl, cocking her knee higher on some Spider Man shit. His back shots had her ready to scale the wall.
“Damn I love this dick,” she hissed into her hand, coating his dick with juices, her breathing telling him she was close to cumming already.
“Throw this pussy back,” Power growled, slapping her ass with a resounding smack.
“I am!”
Smack! She pushed back into him, doubling the force of his thrust. He grabbed at her hips through the jiggly fat there, pulling her back onto his thighs like a fist pounding an open palm.
“Oh fuck, you gonna make me cum again!”
Smack! Smack! The surface of her ass making waves as each blow hit home.
Kim was in a fuck frenzy, loving the pain of pleasure. “Please baby, cum please! I gotta go!” Kim pled. Grinding into him with greater urgency.
Their bodies slapping together sounded like applause as he pounded her. The crowd goes wild! Power’s whole body convulsed and he exploded inside of her. He slid out of her. She turned, dropped to her knees and cleaned him with a greedy tongue.
“Damn,” Kim said when she’d finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
She stood and pulled up her pants up in one movement. As she clipped her belt buckle up she smiled and blew Power a kiss. He could smell himself on her breath. “Oh yeah, I came up here to tell you to get ready. You have to go to court.”
“Do I have time to take a shower?”
“No, you gotta go smellin’ like this good pussy you just fucked the shit out of,” she winked as she sashayed out the door.
Power tucked his dick into his boxers and shrugged up his peel. There was no better way to get ready for the judge.
“Will the defendant please rise.”
Power looked at his lawyer as he stood up, and his lawyer did the same. As usual Power was the only black guy in the room.
“On what grounds are you seeking a dismissal of all charges, counselor?” the judge asked, looking as if he could care less. The judge was fat, white and looked down at Power and his lawyer, Cal Robertson, as if they were a disease, through half-moon glasses. The judge looked like an egg with eyebrows.
Robertson, a thin New Yorker with more smarts than you could fit inside the usual white guy cleared his throat and replied, “I’ve talked to the D.A., your honor, and because of the tragic death of the state’s only witness to this alleged crime, one –” he looked at his notes – “Tariq Boyd, there simply is no case.”
The judge nodded. This was an old story. “I see. And how did this…Mr. Boyd… meet his demise, counselor?”
“Home invasion, your honor. He and his wife were gunned down.”
“How convenient,” the judge remarked sarcastically, before turning his attention to the D.A. “Mrs. Pointer?”
The D.A. Sally Pointer stood. She reminded Power of a teacher in his elementary school who would wear skirts that would flash her thighs every time she sat down. Mrs. Pointer wore the same kind of skirt today. Power knew he should be concentrating on the proceedings, but for a white bitch, Mrs. Pointer had fine legs.
“Yes your honor, I don’t think it’s in the best interest of the state to pursue charges at this time.”
The judge looked at his file, then at Power. “Mr. Mitchell, how old are you?”
Power was still fixated. Robertson nudged him and the judge repeated the question.
“Seventeen,” Power said, adding an extra subtle sneer to his tone.
“Mr. Mitchell, you aren’t even old enough to drink and you already have several assaults, including, I might add, a double murder that you are currently charged with. I am inclined to believe this is a pattern,” the judge said.
Mrs. Pointer was adjusting her blouse and Power had her titties in his mind. Old white bitch always