Making the Hook-Up Read Free

ain’t gonna fondle you and I ain’t gonna grope you, but for forty-five hundred dollars, I gotta at least be able to smell you when we kiss. I ain’t no animal. I’m a sensitive man. So let’s go in the back of this van so you can sit on my lap and kiss me as this kinda cash deserves. My money is honorable, too, girl. As honorable as a wedding ring.”

    The young dealer glanced down at the bills in his hand and then peered into the back of his customized van, which was set up like a bedroom.
    Draperies on the walls. Velvet paintings over the draperies. Leopards and panthers. Supple, long-limbed black-skinned people in various poses of sexual suggestion. A velvet painting of the Last Supper—Jesus, Judas, Peter, the disciples, all of them, with brown skin, curly hair, and thick noses and lips. There was a long bed with satin sheets and satin covers for the big, soft pillows. Over the bed, a velvet sign that read “The Love Mobile.”
    She said, “Okay. I’ll sit on your lap, but no more than that. And hurry up. I only have another five minutes of break.”
    With that, she went into the back of the van, the good Docta Love following behind.
    She was thinking, For a remodeled bathroom, it’s worth it. Let’s get it over with.
    And he was thinking, That ass. Lord, you know I gotta tap that ass.
    And she did sit on his lap. And he did inhale her perfumed essence. Closed his eyes. Kissed her. Tongue to tongue. One of those real good kisses. Lips all slopping together. Teeth all crushed together. Tongues wrestling.
    After that, her voice was breathy when she spoke—“All right. I did it. That’s kiss number one. And if you were a fair man, you would call that number forty-three or forty-four, as much as you kissed me, but whatever, I see your little game. I see how you’re going to play it. Fine. Just give me my money and let me get back to work.”
    She was heated, he noted, and seemed in a rush to leave the van. Her lipstick was all smeared.
    Docta Love gave her that night’s portion, fifteen hundred
dollars in cash, and watched her walk back to the casino. Her booty swayed when she walked, but she seemed groggy on her feet, rather than rushed. She stumbled twice.
    He nodded his head.
    Docta Love went to bed that night remembering that she didn’t like anal, it hurt too much, but she did it from time to time to please her husband. Such a good wife. Docta Love went to bed smiling.
    The next night when she got there, the dealer went straight into the back of the van where he was waiting.
    She sat upon his lap, as she had done the night before, and he surprised her by placing his hand (the one that was not holding the hundred-dollar bills) upon her bosom.
    She sprang up from his lap and cried, “No groping, sir! I’m not kidding about how sacred my vows are to me!”
    Docta Love said to her, “For the second kiss, I need to feel you. What good is it to smell you if I can’t feel? I promise I won’t grope you or fondle you. I ain’t no animal. I’m a sensitive man.”
    â€œBut my marriage vows!” she roared
    â€œI ain’t no punk, and this is not negotiable!” he roared back. “Now all I’m gonna do is rest the palm of my hand and the tips of my fingers on your tiddies with such a light touch you ain’t even gonna notice ’em there. When they get tireda being on one side, they gon’ move to the next side, but I swear I ain’t gonna fondle you because I was married once upon a time too, and I believe in marriage vows. I can tell you’re a good wife. You believe in your vows and I respect that. But I believe in my money. And my money is sacred to me. I respect your beliefs if you respect my beliefs.”
    Sighing, the dealer sat herself down upon his lap, and Docta Love placed his hand on her bosom.

    She puckered her lips for the kiss, but he was not ready to kiss yet, because