Free Street Chronicles Girls in the Game by Nikki Turner Page A

build, which is only around the corner. It's only a matter of time before I give this street shit up and we move on with our plans to get married and have us some kids. If I go to jail now over some bullshit, all that'll be ruined.”
    I stared at Tank and could see his eyes begin to water. I knew it was hard for him to ask me to do such a thing. Even harder for him to think about me doing it—he would probably regret having me do this later on, but right now it looked like the only way out. Tank was the only man I'd ever been with, and he had taught me well. After being together for twenty years, I'd learned a lot and done it all, but only because Tank had been my one and only.Now he wanted me to give myself to a stranger—for a good reason, I knew, but still, I just couldn't imagine being with someone other than Tank. Even when Tank allowed those chickenheads to entice him, I always stayed true, because that was how deep my love was for him.
    “Please?” he begged.
    I sighed heavily.
    “But, Tank, what if I can't pull this off? I mean, he might be a faggot or something,” I said with doubt.
    “Renée, come on now,” he said in a reassuring tone.
    “I'm serious. How is this shit going to work, Tank? I'll just force myself on him and he's going to go for me? Just like that?” I threw up my hands and rolled my eyes.
    “You're smart and you know how to play the game. I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't have faith in you. Think about it, Renée. If you don't do this, they could put me under for a long, long time. No wedding, no kids—nothing for us.
    “We will finally be able to put our relationship out in the open when I become legit. All them niggas and tricks will know about us, baby. Just you and me against the motherfuckin’ world! Do you wanna mess all that up when you have the opportunity right now to straighten it?”
    I guess he's right,
I thought. Even if he wasn't right, he was not going to give up until I said I'd do it anyway.
    “Okay. I'll do it,” I said in surrender.
    Tank planted his lips on mine, then hugged me tightly. My body language told him that I was still unsure whether I was making the right decision. He kissed me on my neck and started to tease my breasts. I turned to face him, straddling his body with mine. Now he had one hand between my legs and the other in my shirt. I moaned as he played with each nipple, while at the same time hitting my spot. His manhood was standing at attentionright between us, so I pulled it through the opening of his boxers and stroked it with my hands, meeting Tank's tongue with mine. He had me feeling so wet that I got down on my knees and took him into my mouth, working it like there were no more lollipops left in the city of Richmond. His back stiffened. I began workin’ it faster, making him moan. Before he had the chance to explode, I jumped on top of it and rode him, taking every inch until he came. Both of our bodies went limp and we just held each other, breathing hard. I knew at that moment, with everything in me, that no matter what, I had to do whatever it took to keep my man out of prison.
    I ran out of my office on Chamberlayne Parkway and hopped into my recent birthday gift from Tank, a black 2006 C-Class Mercedes. I was trying to beat the five-o'clock rush-hour traffic and head over to American Family Fitness on Brook Road. I decided to drive through the city instead of getting on the interstate, because I knew 1-95 would be bumper-to-bumper. This was the day I would make my move on Mr. Hall. I was nervous. All kinds of shit that might fuck things up kept running through my head. What if I wasn't his type? His square-looking ass was probably gay, or maybe he didn't even like sisters.
    I knew I had it going on as a sistah. I worked out about four times a week, one hour a day. I had a body like Angela Bassett's in
What's Love Got to Do with It.
My caramel skin was flawless, smooth like silk, and my hair was natural, no weaves there. I never