Stop Looking at Me


* * * Excerpts * * * Stop Looking at Me! by J.Gail Excerpt – Part 3 (continued) The fact that Tracy was able to make it the rest of the day, even though it was already 4pm, was an amazing feat. She looked at everyone in the office that afternoon with a new eye. Could they really be talking about her behind her back? The train was overly crowded on the ride home, and as usual Tracy had guzzled down a drink at the bar down the street before getting on. She always kept a blade under her tongue ‘hood style, just in case something jumped off. Riding the subway at rush hour was the worst part of her day, yet a necessary evil. All the people pushing and prodding, and the weirdos who had nothing better to do but stare at her dressed in her business attire. She hated that she couldn’t afford to park her car in the city anymore. She still sometimes drove to work and paid the $25-30 to park when she was having a bad day, but money was tight. She perched herself near the sliding subway door and tried to concentrate on something positive. All she could think about was all her colleagues talking about her behind her back. She wanted to do something about it, confront someone, but she didn’t know who. What was she going to do, yell at everybody? That would be sure to get her ass fired on the spot. She needed that job. Tracy frowned her nose up at an older Indian guy who was looking at her as if he had never seen a woman before. Why do these nuts think they have the right to oogle down black women like that? I bet they never do that to white women. Tracy’s stop was coming up soon, and there was room on the farther end of the car, so she eased her way over to that area, out of the view of the perverted man, and settled in a corner chair near the door. After a while, she calmed down and tried to think positive thoughts again. The heat in the train was beginning to become unbearable. Tracy looked off into space and for the first time since she had told off Stacey, her mind drifted to Mike. She could see his face clearly. He was smirking at her in that sexy way again. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those red, juicy lips. She smiled and looked down a little in shame for her thoughts. But her mood was murdered when she saw the same dirty looking man standing up nearby, now in clear view, again looking at her like a piece of meat. A seat became available across from Tracy, and he sat down in it. He had actually gotten up from his original seat and moved to continue staring at Tracy’s body. Tracy began feeling nauseous and a rage was building up in her loins. Who the hell does this motherfucker think he’s looking at? After a few more moments of riding, Tracy could no longer bear the audacity of this man who was still boldy staring at her, looking down at her privacy and licking his bottom lip with no shame in his game. She saw that her stop was coming up after the next, so she made her way to the door. She saw that the man’s eyes were following her every step. She couldn’t take it any longer. “What the fuck are you looking at?” Tracy said all of sudden on the now semi-crowded train as she pointed her finger right at the Indian man. She came up real close to him, ignoring the swaying of the train, and stood with her feet apart, solid to the ground, looking down at his face. “I know you don’t think you got a chance with me, look at you you dirty, rock-head motherfucker!” The Indian man looked at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, while everyone else on the train pretended not to see what was going on. Some teenagers nearby broke out in laughter and pointed at the man to taunt him. “She called him rock head!” “What do you want from me? I am a man,” was all the guy said, with a smug look on his face now as if he were entitled to look. “So what, you wanna see my breasts,” Tracy cupped her breasts momentarily and looked down on the man as if he were an ant. “Why don’t I just whip my pussy out right now for you to see, since you’re already staring at it as if it’s on display! I’m tired of you sick, perverted assholes looking at me like a piece of meat all the time!” When the man had the nerve to look down at Tracy’s crack again, he quickly found out it was a bad choice. Tracy cold cocked him with her clenched fist right in the forehead. The man’s head went back and Tracy made a mad dash for the just opened subway door for the next stop. It closed right behind her. Tracy ran up the stairs, two at a time, not even feeling the pain in her hand yet. She checked back once to make sure the pervert didn’t manage to get off the same stop. He didn’t. When she got to the top of the stairs, she finally saw what stop she had gotten off; 149^th Street. Damn. She had 18 blocks to walk. Her adrenaline was jumping as she powerwalked down the busy sidewalk. She felt a rush having given justice to that perv. She was sure every woman on that train was clapping in her mind. No one was going to mess with her and get away with it. Living in New York, she had to be two steps ahead of everything—what if she were to let that guy stare, and then he started studying her movements. What if then he started stalking her until he found the right moment to grab her in a deserted subway hall and rape her. Hell no, she had to address that issue right away. Tracy had changed into her sneakers before leaving the office, so the walk was comfortable. But by the 10^th block, she was starting to become weary, and her hair was feeling as if it were being sweated out. She remembered the $500 Reggie had given her and considered catching a cab the rest of the way. She saw a cab parked across the street and put up her finger to get his attention. “Ay mama, let me take you for a ride,” a Spanish man commented when he saw Tracy trying to get the cabbie’s attention. “Fuck off,” Tracy said and crossed the street. She finally felt the pain in her knuckles and shook her hand to get some relief. “Hey, can you take me for a few blocks,” Tracy asked into the open cab window. The cabbie just shook his head and pointed to the ‘off duty’ sign on the top of his car. “Shit,” Tracy cursed, sucked her teeth and walked on. She glanced back over at the Spanish guy across the street who was looking right back at her, and was starting to worry that it was getting dark outside. She really didn’t like being in this area of the Bronx after dark. As her walk grew slower, she started to get nauseous again. There was a group of guys hanging out at a bodega that she would have to pass by. By the time she reached the intersection her feet were already turned to cross the street. Who cares what they think it looks like, she thought. When she reached the other side she picked up her speed. She glanced to the left to see if anyone at the store was looking or coming her way. Instead, she saw a sleek black late model Honda with tinted windows creeping beside her. Tracy looked horrified. She walked quicker, and had to restrain everything in her being to stop from breaking into a full run. She glanced back again, terror in her eyes. All she could think of was the drive-by scenes she’d seen in gangster movies. She thought about the razor under her tongue but what good was that going to do if they had guns? “Tracy, Tracy,” she could hear a voice saying strongly as the tinted passenger side window came down. The first thing she recognized was the lips moving. “Ay yo Queen, slow down.” “Mike?” she said in amazement and stopped in her tracks. “Yea, what you doin’ down here?” he asked as he lifted his head to see from beneath his hat. “I’ll take you back to the spot.” “To the spot?” Tracy asked, still cautious, as she looked at him in disbelief. “Yea, to your crib. You ain’t about to walk 10 blocks down here is you? It’s getting dark as shit out here.” “I know, but…” Tracy hesitated. She didn’t really know this dude. And who was the guy driving? She shook her hand a few times again, still trying to relieve the pain from punching the man on the train in the forehead. I was right, that rock headed motherfucker. “This my man Coupe, he cool,” Mike assured. “Don’t worry, I got your back.” It was as if Mike were reading into her inner insecurities. He winked at her and smiled the way Jay-Z did in his videos. Tracy melted. “Okay,” she said, relaxing as she came over. Mike got out of the car and opened the back seat door for her. What a gentleman, Tracy thought. “Didn’t you take the train home?” he asked. “Yea,” Tracy answered with a quick head nod. “Why ain’t you get off at 167^th Street then?” he inquired. Tracy just smirked at him. If he only knew, but he never would. She wasn’t about to tell the guy she could potentially marry about any of that mess. They rode home, with Mike cracking jokes the whole way in that loud, deep voice. When he spoke, people listened with perked ears. He had Tracy almost falling to the side in the back of the car laughing. He told the story of how his boy Coupe had some crazy white chick he had hit just once stalking him. He also teased Tracy for speed-walking down the block as if Jason were after her. And he was so cool. He never even laughed when he told a joke, he just let it slide and slip off his tongue. Tracy’s cheeks hurt as she looked down at her now-swollen hand, but kept it hidden from Mike and Coupe’s view. She had gone from mad to happy in a matter of a few minutes. Tracy felt so comfortable around Mike and Coupe that she actually let them drive her up to the front door of her building. She almost didn’t want to get out of the car. “Thank you so much,” Tracy said as she grabbed up her purse and opened the car door. “No problem sweetheart,” Mike said, never really looking her way. She got out shyly and headed up the front walk. A smile was plastered across her face. He was so cool. Then she heard the whirring sound of the car window coming down again. “Imma see you tomorrow,” Mike told her. He wasn’t really asking. “Maybe,” Tracy said with a smirk and opened the glass door to go inside. When Tracy got inside, she was so full of heat between her thighs that she had to get in the tub immediately. On the way to the bathroom she grabbed her ‘toy,’ Mr. Wiggles, out of the drawer by her bed, and a plastic baggie full of ice for her hand. She stripped bare in the bathroom in what seemed like one furious motion. As she soaked in the tub with her legs open, the sound of Mr. Wiggles soothing all the stress of the day away, Tracy thought about Mike, and how different it would be to have a relationship with a neighborhood thug. She had never felt this hot for a man, sexually, before. As she moved Mr. Wiggles around slowly, she imagined it was Mike’s thick lips exploring her womanhood with that same determination and confidence he oozed when he spoke.

* * * Excerpts * * *

Stop Looking at Me!

by J.Gail

Excerpt – Part 3

(continued)

The fact that Tracy was able to make it the rest of the day, even though it was already 4pm, was an amazing feat. She looked at everyone in the office that afternoon with a new eye. Could they really be talking about her behind her back?

The train was overly crowded on the ride home, and as usual Tracy had guzzled down a drink at the bar down the street before getting on. She always kept a blade under her tongue ‘hood style, just in case something jumped off. Riding the subway at rush hour was the worst part of her day, yet a necessary evil. All the people pushing and prodding, and the weirdos who had nothing better to do but stare at her dressed in her business attire. She hated that she couldn’t afford to park her car in the city anymore. She still sometimes drove to work and paid the $25-30 to park when she was having a bad day, but money was tight.

She perched herself near the sliding subway door and tried to concentrate on something positive. All she could think about was all her colleagues talking about her behind her back. She wanted to do something about it, confront someone, but she didn’t know who. What was she going to do, yell at everybody? That would be sure to get her ass fired on the spot. She needed that job.

Tracy frowned her nose up at an older Indian guy who was looking at her as if he had never seen a woman before. Why do these nuts think they have the right to oogle down black women like that? I bet they never do that to white women. Tracy’s stop was coming up soon, and there was room on the farther end of the car, so she eased her way over to that area, out of the view of the perverted man, and settled in a corner chair near the door. After a while, she calmed down and tried to think positive thoughts again. The heat in the train was beginning to become unbearable.

Tracy looked off into space and for the first time since she had told off Stacey, her mind drifted to Mike. She could see his face clearly. He was smirking at her in that sexy way again. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those red, juicy lips. She smiled and looked down a little in shame for her thoughts. But her mood was murdered when she saw the same dirty looking man standing up nearby, now in clear view, again looking at her like a piece of meat. A seat became available across from Tracy, and he sat down in it. He had actually gotten up from his original seat and moved to continue staring at Tracy’s body. Tracy began feeling nauseous and a rage was building up in her loins. Who the hell does this motherfucker think he’s looking at? After a few more moments of riding, Tracy could no longer bear the audacity of this man who was still boldy staring at her, looking down at her privacy and licking his bottom lip with no shame in his game. She saw that her stop was coming up after the next, so she made her way to the door. She saw that the man’s eyes were following her every step. She couldn’t take it any longer.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Tracy said all of sudden on the now semi-crowded train as she pointed her finger right at the Indian man. She came up real close to him, ignoring the swaying of the train, and stood with her feet apart, solid to the ground, looking down at his face. “I know you don’t think you got a chance with me, look at you you dirty, rock-head motherfucker!”

The Indian man looked at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, while everyone else on the train pretended not to see what was going on. Some teenagers nearby broke out in laughter and pointed at the man to taunt him. “She called him rock head!”

“What do you want from me? I am a man,” was all the guy said, with a smug look on his face now as if he were entitled to look.

“So what, you wanna see my breasts,” Tracy cupped her breasts momentarily and looked down on the man as if he were an ant. “Why don’t I just whip my pussy out right now for you to see, since you’re already staring at it as if it’s on display! I’m tired of you sick, perverted assholes looking at me like a piece of meat all the time!”

When the man had the nerve to look down at Tracy’s crack again, he quickly found out it was a bad choice. Tracy cold cocked him with her clenched fist right in the forehead. The man’s head went back and Tracy made a mad dash for the just opened subway door for the next stop. It closed right behind her.

Tracy ran up the stairs, two at a time, not even feeling the pain in her hand yet. She checked back once to make sure the pervert didn’t manage to get off the same stop. He didn’t. When she got to the top of the stairs, she finally saw what stop she had gotten off; 149^th Street. Damn. She had 18 blocks to walk.

Her adrenaline was jumping as she powerwalked down the busy sidewalk. She felt a rush having given justice to that perv. She was sure every woman on that train was clapping in her mind. No one was going to mess with her and get away with it. Living in New York, she had to be two steps ahead of everything—what if she were to let that guy stare, and then he started studying her movements. What if then he started stalking her until he found the right moment to grab her in a deserted subway hall and rape her. Hell no, she had to address that issue right away.

Tracy had changed into her sneakers before leaving the office, so the walk was comfortable. But by the 10^th block, she was starting to become weary, and her hair was feeling as if it were being sweated out. She remembered the $500 Reggie had given her and considered catching a cab the rest of the way. She saw a cab parked across the street and put up her finger to get his attention.

“Ay mama, let me take you for a ride,” a Spanish man commented when he saw Tracy trying to get the cabbie’s attention.

“Fuck off,” Tracy said and crossed the street. She finally felt the pain in her knuckles and shook her hand to get some relief.

“Hey, can you take me for a few blocks,” Tracy asked into the open cab window.

The cabbie just shook his head and pointed to the ‘off duty’ sign on the top of his car.

“Shit,” Tracy cursed, sucked her teeth and walked on. She glanced back over at the Spanish guy across the street who was looking right back at her, and was starting to worry that it was getting dark outside. She really didn’t like being in this area of the Bronx after dark. As her walk grew slower, she started to get nauseous again.

There was a group of guys hanging out at a bodega that she would have to pass by. By the time she reached the intersection her feet were already turned to cross the street. Who cares what they think it looks like, she thought. When she reached the other side she picked up her speed. She glanced to the left to see if anyone at the store was looking or coming her way. Instead, she saw a sleek black late model Honda with tinted windows creeping beside her. Tracy looked horrified.

She walked quicker, and had to restrain everything in her being to stop from breaking into a full run. She glanced back again, terror in her eyes. All she could think of was the drive-by scenes she’d seen in gangster movies. She thought about the razor under her tongue but what good was that going to do if they had guns?

“Tracy, Tracy,” she could hear a voice saying strongly as the tinted passenger side window came down. The first thing she recognized was the lips moving. “Ay yo Queen, slow down.”

“Mike?” she said in amazement and stopped in her tracks.

“Yea, what you doin’ down here?” he asked as he lifted his head to see from beneath his hat. “I’ll take you back to the spot.”

“To the spot?” Tracy asked, still cautious, as she looked at him in disbelief.

“Yea, to your crib. You ain’t about to walk 10 blocks down here is you? It’s getting dark as shit out here.”

“I know, but…” Tracy hesitated. She didn’t really know this dude. And who was the guy driving? She shook her hand a few times again, still trying to relieve the pain from punching the man on the train in the forehead. I was right, that rock headed motherfucker.

“This my man Coupe, he cool,” Mike assured. “Don’t worry, I got your back.”

It was as if Mike were reading into her inner insecurities. He winked at her and smiled the way Jay-Z did in his videos. Tracy melted.

“Okay,” she said, relaxing as she came over. Mike got out of the car and opened the back seat door for her. What a gentleman, Tracy thought.

“Didn’t you take the train home?” he asked.

“Yea,” Tracy answered with a quick head nod.

“Why ain’t you get off at 167^th Street then?” he inquired. Tracy just smirked at him. If he only knew, but he never would. She wasn’t about to tell the guy she could potentially marry about any of that mess.

They rode home, with Mike cracking jokes the whole way in that loud, deep voice. When he spoke, people listened with perked ears. He had Tracy almost falling to the side in the back of the car laughing. He told the story of how his boy Coupe had some crazy white chick he had hit just once stalking him. He also teased Tracy for speed-walking down the block as if Jason were after her. And he was so cool. He never even laughed when he told a joke, he just let it slide and slip off his tongue. Tracy’s cheeks hurt as she looked down at her now-swollen hand, but kept it hidden from Mike and Coupe’s view. She had gone from mad to happy in a matter of a few minutes.

Tracy felt so comfortable around Mike and Coupe that she actually let them drive her up to the front door of her building. She almost didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Thank you so much,” Tracy said as she grabbed up her purse and opened the car door.

“No problem sweetheart,” Mike said, never really looking her way. She got out shyly and headed up the front walk. A smile was plastered across her face. He was so cool.

Then she heard the whirring sound of the car window coming down again.

“Imma see you tomorrow,” Mike told her. He wasn’t really asking.

“Maybe,” Tracy said with a smirk and opened the glass door to go inside.

When Tracy got inside, she was so full of heat between her thighs that she had to get in the tub immediately. On the way to the bathroom she grabbed her ‘toy,’ Mr. Wiggles, out of the drawer by her bed, and a plastic baggie full of ice for her hand. She stripped bare in the bathroom in what seemed like one furious motion.

As she soaked in the tub with her legs open, the sound of Mr. Wiggles soothing all the stress of the day away, Tracy thought about Mike, and how different it would be to have a relationship with a neighborhood thug. She had never felt this hot for a man, sexually, before. As she moved Mr. Wiggles around slowly, she imagined it was Mike’s thick lips exploring her womanhood with that same determination and confidence he oozed when he spoke.