In My Hood by Endy

upward.
    “And you think you capable of helping me pull that off?”
    “Don’t sleep, D. The safe is in his closet. I don’t know the combination, but I’m sure you can get it open,” she said as she stopped moving her hand. “Once you make Ishmael disappear, you gonna hafta get with that Herman Monster–acting nigga, Rik.”
    “I’ma hafta body Rik first then I’ma step to Ish. But I want the loot first. So how you plan on keeping him out of the house until I get the safe open?” he asked, placing his hand on hers and guiding it upward again.
    His dick began to rise.
    “You ain’t heard? I’m nice with mine. Let me handled that part,” she bragged, reaching her final destination.
    “Oh yeah?” he whispered, enjoying her rubbing his hard-on.
    “Oh yeah.”
    Zola unzipped his jeans and reached inside, pulling out what she had been searching for. She leaned over and spit on it and put it into her mouth, causing him to shiver.
    Damon looked at the surroundings outside. It was broad daylight, and they were pulled over on a busy street. Seeing that no one was walking by, he laid his head back and enjoyed the best head he had had in a long time.

Losing Feelings
    I shmael stepped out of the shower. He wiped the mirror clean of the steam with his towel then peered into the mirror, looking at himself. He patted his body dry and pulled the clippers from the bottom cabinet and began to trim his sideburns and beard, edging them up a bit. His braids were fresh and intact. He had stopped by the African braid shop the day before to get them done. The braids were so tight that you could see the raised skin about his forehead. He could have easily gotten Zola to do them, but that was not even an option considering how she’d been tripping lately.
    He checked the time on his cell phone, which was on the sink. It was 7:00 p.m. He had one hour before he went to pick Desiree up for their first date.
    After he finished grooming himself, he walked into his closet to select his wardrobe. He stood in the middle of the closet with his arms folded across his chest, studying the attire that hung loosely about the thick plastic hangers.
    He was taking Desiree to an industry party in the city for a famous rapper Diggy Mar. Everybody who was anybody was scheduled to be there.
    It had been a long time since Ishmael had attended an industry party in the city. They became predictable and repetitious, and he basically outgrew them. It would be the same faces and the same drama. All the women walked around half naked and desperate, trying to find the nigga with the most paper.
    They all had the same come-on line and all wore the same type of weave. One minute they would be up in a nigga’s face, and if they didn’t get a drink out of him, they’d move on to the next sucker. Ishmael could see right through the sack-chasing groupies.
    But this night was different. The top suppliers were going to be at this party. They were to meet for a brief meeting about some new product that was just discovered over in Cuba. The word out was that the heroin was so pure that it almost looked yellow, and it was putting niggaz on their asses over in Cuba. Ishmael’s main hustle was heroin, but he dealt in cocaine as well. The team wanted in, and Ishmael was a part of that team. If they got their hands on the product, they would surely rise above all. So all and all, this wasn’t only a date. It was business as well.
    Ishmael figured that after the meeting he would take Desiree to the Copa for some old-fashioned dancing and dinner. He had a hidden desire for dancing the salsa.
    Several years ago Ishmael was sprung on this chick named Sasha. She was Spanish. She loved to dance the salsa. At first Ishmael thought the dancing was gay until Sasha taught him in the privacy of her home. They danced the sensual dance so much that after each lesson he and Sasha would end up butt naked on the floor.
    He didn’t quite know if Desiree would like dancing the salsa,