I thought about this when there was a knock at my door. I wondered who it was. People didn’t really visit me. I put on a baseball cap and answered the door.

I blinked once. She blinked back. Jadish...

Houston hugged me, “Hey, how are you, God Daddy?”

I cringed inside. Have to save face. I could hardly breathe.

“Come on in, girl.”

She walked past me like a good dream. She was fine as all outdoors. I had to will my dick not to get hard.

When good pussy was around you, your dick had a mind of its own. I had to act like a grown man right now, and not a little boy.

I closed the door, tugged on my NY Yankees sweater and said, “Want something to drink?”

She gave the sweetest smile, standing in my need-to-clean-it-living room, trying to look innocent. “Yes. You got a Coke?”

She sat on my sofa, crossing her legs. She leaned back, eyeing me suspiciously. I didn’t quite understand why she was sizing me up, but I liked it. I loved attention.

I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I needed to go grocery shopping.

Pulling out a bottle of soda, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I could smell her on the air.

I had to stand at the sink to keep it together. My nature stood at attention. I wanted Jadish, God I
wanted to fuck her again.

I couldn’t get my mind off…

“Are you ok, Tommy?” she asked, walking up behind me. Her hands were on my shoulders, softly massaging them. “Where’s the soda?”

Please don’t touch me, girl! I won’t be responsible for what I do. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, feeling like I was being taunted.

I turned around and gave her the soda. She unscrewed the top and took a hefty swig.

Smacked her lips. Looked me deep in the eyes.

“How was your day, haven’t heard from you in a long time, Tommy.”

She drinks from the bottle again, rolling her tongue across the top, making me shiver.

Wide-eyed, my mouth open, I pulled my sweater over my hard on. She looked down at it, smacking her lips again.

“Something wrong with your dick or something?”

I couldn’t believe she was being this direct. She hardly ever used that word. She was a good girl and I liked her being a good girl.

“My day was good, and I’m just fine.”

She looked at the junk on my dining table, the lotion bottle, the empty beer cans, and the cigarette butts overflowing in three ash trays, the uneaten KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken).

She softly bit her index finger. “I have a question, and I want you to be honest.”

I was stuttering. “Yes, Jadish, I have never lied to you.”

“…You look tense. Have a seat at the dining table.”

I didn’t move. I was a block of cement.

“Come on,” she went on, setting the soda on the table, and pulling out the chair. “Sit.”

I stood there, staring at her. She pushed me in the chair, I
just looked at her.

“You love me, right, like a daughter?” she asked, and the question threw me through a loop...