DEADLY VENGEANCE

The night air was brisk as Duce and HD hung out under a street light on 41st street. Leaning up against his 68 Chevrolet Impala, HD checked his watch. Noticing it was 10:32 PM, he glanced at the house adjacent to the one they poster up in front of. Why hadn’t the light gone out? he questioned. That was unusual. Maybe she’s reading or unable to sleep. Whatever it was, knowing it wasn’t the norm, he glanced at Duce. With one leg crossed over the other, Duce lay on the hood of the Chevy. Caught in his own seduction he smoked a Kool King cigarette. Blowing large white circles through the air, he stared at the starry sky. “Man! What’s taking her so long? She should have been asleep by now.” HD reached inside of the Chevy. He grabbed the pack of Newport cigarettes off of the dashboard. “I don’t know my boy. But I do know one thing: if that light ain’t off in ten minutes, I’m headed to the Wine Barrel, buy me a pint of Remy Martin, then take my black ass on 40th.” “Fa sho.” HD lit his cigarette. Hearing the pitter-patter of heels clicking on the side¬walk, HD saw Bay Bay and Phil. Both looked jazzy as hell. They waved at him as they got in their car. By their stylish attire he was certain they were headed on 40th. All of a sudden HD noticed the light was off. He popped Duce on the leg, “Come on.” Like cheetahs on the prowl they strode alongside the wood built house. Unexpectedly, a black cat darted from some ivy bushes. Running across Duce’s foot, its surprising appear¬ance startled him. “Ahh! Duce cringed. He thought the cat was a rat. “Shut cho scary ass up,” HD spun around and laughed, “Acting all like a b*#@! ...ahhh!” Emulating Duce, he then turned around and tapped the window with his finger nail. Quickly the venetian blind shot up and Cassandra opened the window. Like a cheetah, HD sprang through the window. “Damn!” Duce murmured, “He act like he got gazelle in him.” He climbed through the window after him. Scanning the bedroom’s amenities, Duce admired Cassandra’s and Vanessa’s tidiness. The way both flat screen televisions were evenly mounted on the wall, the baby blue carpet and inter¬ior paint, the lavish oak twin bedroom set, and how every time he came over nothing was ever out of place, was a palpable thing he applauded. The twins had it going on. Both nineteen, young and voluptuous; though not identical, both were fly. Cassandra wore one of them bleach blonde bobbed hairdo’s. And with a booty like Niki Mannig, everywhere she went brothers stared at her statuesque figure. She was the chase homeboys in the hood wanted. But HD had it locked. Even cats caked out the game couldn’t pick his magic. Guess he had the magic stick. Vanessa was petite, Had one of those figures like Beyonce before she met JZ. Her hair was just as long and pretty too. And though somewhat standoffish, she was smart as a whip. With a 3.8 GPA, the vanilla mocha complexion sista indeed was fly. And Duce knew it. However, as he took his hoodie off and sat on the bed, rather than impede the sista from doing what she was doing, he instead appreciated her womanhood, and ogled the way the pj’s she wore accentuated her baby maker. Yowza.