Leasa is Cooking

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“Roll call!”

It was that time of night again.

“Roll call!” The warning, a street-born, universally recognized alarm system echoed down the block, alerting the natives that an intruder approached. It was, “five-oh,” or, “da man.” From the low roar of the motorcycle engine I knew it was that same seemingly bigoted C.H.I.P. who rousted this poor, black neighborhood at least twice every weekend.

I had gotten to know him well in the three months I’d lived in Northern California. On my first day of my new job as a paramedic, I met Andy Jons at a near fatal traffic accident. He was the cop in charge. I was driving a backup ambulance.

In the three months as our paths crossed, I grew to tolerate him because he’s a nice guy and a decorated cop, despite an aura of arrogance that alluded to the bigot within.

Though I’m black and divorced and Andy is white and married to some pampered princess, there were two things he and I definitely had in common. He seemed to like black pussy just like me, even if it was something I hadn’t pursued or had any since before I left New York for the west coast. I had been without since right after my daughter graduated high school and I found out that my wife was pregnant with her boss’ baby.

The other desire we shared was to fuck his wife. I had made up my mind that I was going to do just that. It was partly Andy’s fault that I came to this decision. When he wasn’t sneaking into alleys with young black girls in my neighborhood, he was bragging about having the sexiest wife on the planet.

I couldn’t argue with him on that point. She was the daughter of some big time muckety muck in the governor’s cabinet, a beautiful girl of privilege, naive and disinterested in how the rest of the world lived.

Jons showed me a topless picture of her that he carries in his wallet.

Leasa appears taller than average. Her long, athletically slim legs stretch forever upwards. In the photo, her legs disappear under a denim micro mini skirt that clings to her curvy hips lest it roll up and expose her.

Her full, buoyant, double-D-cup tits naturally defy gravity. The nipples so prominent that her lush and long blonde hair, swept from the back over her shoulders, couldn’t cover them. I doubted that she knew Jons flashed her around like a trophy.

I had met her once at a ceremony where Andy and two local firefighters were honored for rescuing three old ladies from a burning senior center. After the ceremony he pulled me over to where she was waiting, showing me off like a new toy. I was the only black member in my division of the paramedic corps.

“Leasa baby, this is Big Jim,” he said, stroking her plump butt through her tailored slacks to get her attention from the group of wives at the program.

My polite smile faded when I saw her reaction to the tall, dark figure leering down at her. My hand already as reaching, but she didn’t immediately take it. She looked as though she was afraid I would rape her right there in front of a battalion of public safety officers.

“Go ahead, sweetie. You can shake his hand. It won’t rub off,” Andy said, apparently trying to lighten the moment.

“Hi Jim. Nice to meet you.” She almost smiled. Her tiny hand felt like a baby doll compared to mine. I gripped her before she could jerk away, just long enough for us to feel each other’s warmth.

“My pleasure, Leasa,” I said, my eyes leaving her icy blues to roam over her body.

She turned away then, nervous and probably insulted. She didn’t know it, yet, but Leasa Jons was about to come down with a chronic case of jungle fever, and I was to be the carrier.

That thought was on my mind when I saw Andy’s bike coming down my street. He had invited me to their house for bar-b-cue the next day. But tonight, there he was cruising the ‘hood. Jons didn’t look up at my second-floor balcony as he rolled past, teasingly in pursuit of a pretty, dark-skinned teen-aged girl who ducked into a nearby alley.

I shook my head and puffed on my cigar. Before the stogie was finished, Jons came schlepping back out of the alley. That was his reputation. Scuttlebutt on the street was that he had a fast gun.

He paused in front of my building and waved up at me grinning.

“That’s between you and me. Right bro?”

I answered by slowly exhaling a puff of smoke.

“See ya tomorrow Jimmy? I’ll have the little lady cook up something special for you,” he said.

“I’ll see y’all tomorrow … that is, if you ain’t too worn out from carousing tonight,” I grinned back. “You stupid bastard,” I thought to myself.

I went to bed, resisting the urge to jack off to Leasa’s image.

I was the Jons’ only guest the next day. I parked in their driveway, right behind the bright red Mustang convertible, and got the case of beer out of the trunk.

Andy had told me to meet him there, but he would arrive later, around noon, because he was working overtime. He said that I should feel free to arrive anytime after 11 a.m. He said Leasa was expecting me early because he had instructed her to get things started early.

At 11:30 I was on his back patio looking for somewhere to set down the cooler of Corona when I saw her. The sliding door was open and through the screen there she was. I was so stunned by her beauty that for several seconds I stood there, bent over with the cooler still in my grasp. I may have been drooling.

Leasa was standing on a utility stool, reaching for something in a kitchen cabinet. She wore headphones, apparently listening to music while she worked, unaware that I had a tantalizing view under her short, pleated skirt.

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