Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 [Author's Note: I would like to thank Lillie, Bigg_Mike, Captain Krunch,
Latina, Kekostree and Rex for editing this chapter, providing me story
feedbacks and fixing my lousy grammar.  I wouldn't have been able to finish
this without them.
   If you like to send in your comments or feedbacks, just message me at:
phantom7moonlight@yahoo.com
   P.S.  Always remember this is all just fiction.]
   -----------
   Chapter III: Inimicus
   I stood speechless; dumbfounded at the sight I before me.  My Mom,
near-naked with bruises all over her body, was standing in front of me. 
Her white dress was now grimy and tattered, torn to expose her right breast
that she covered with her palm.  Her hair was chaotic, and her makeup was
smudged.  She was a mess.  Judging from the terrible state of her
appearance, I felt certain something really bad had happened to her.  And I
thought I recognized who the possible culprit might be.
   Marcus stood next to her, his large hand resting on her waist, as he
observed my expression...and then grinned.  He towered over my mother and
me.  I am friends with persons of different colors; but his being very
large, and black, made him an even more intimidating presence.
   On top of this he wore a 'gangsta' get-up consisting of a white
tank-top, baggy jeans, his signature white-gold necklace and other
'bling-blings' that adorned his ear, wrist, and fingers.  At that moment I
was absolutely convinced he'd been the one who had hurt Mom--or at least
had something to with it.
   "Honey, is that you?" My Dad called as he approached from behind her. 
When he reached the door where I stood, he caught his first sight of
Mom...and Marcus, and froze.
   "Oh, darling," my mother turned and ran toward him.  She embraced him
tightly, crying hard as she buried her face in his shoulder.
   "What happened to you, Eva!?" he asked anxiously, patting her head.
   She paused for a moment, as tears continued to trickle from her eyes,
and looked up at him.  She brushed at the tears and wiped them with her
hand, then uttered softly, "I was raped."
   "WHAT?!"
   My Dad was clearly as shocked, judging from his facial expressions, as I
was.  While I'd already formed my own idea about what had happened, to hear
her say it firsthand was horrifying.
   "Who?  Who did this?" He asked shaking her hard by the shoulders,
momentarily oblivious of what he was doing.  He stopped immediately when
she yelped in pain, but kept hold of her shoulders.  For a few moments he
stood stock still, and gazed down at her in a state of shock.
   "Whoa, easy there fool!" Suddenly Marcus stepped up and made to pull her
away from him.
   This surprised Dad right out of his catatonic state.  He released her
and looked up at the young man.  Then suddenly he sprang into action. 
"YOU! You did this!" He pointed angrily at Marcus, who just looked back at
him.  He stormed toward Marcus, his fist raised over his head, but stopped
short when he caught sight of Mom, who'd turned to hug the tall black man,
shielding him from Dad.
   "No, Greg!  He didn't do this!  He's my savior!  He saved me!" She cried
aloud, as her arms continued to envelope Marcus' waist.
   I was stupefied.  To see her protecting him from her very own husband,
astonished me.  And then to have learned that Marcus was actually her
savior, completely blew my mind.  It seemed I was mistaken when judging him
earlier, and I rather regretted my presumption now.
   "Umm...umm..." My Dad stuttered as he lowered his arms.  He looked at
Marcus, and upon seeing Marcus warily meet his gaze, immediately lowered
his eyes.  He stood quietly again, dumbfounded, scratching his head.
   "I'm sorry Marcus.  He didn't know," Mom said as she turned her face to
him.
   "It's okay, girl.  No harm done," Marcus replied in a gruff voice.  He
stroked my Mom's back as they stood together.
   I tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension.  "We
should all probably head inside."
   "Yeah," Mom agreed.  She led the way, hand in hand with Marcus, and
walked toward me.  She paused briefly to glare at Dad, when she passed by
him.  I held open the door and glanced a calculatingly at Marcus' colossal
figure as they passed through and inside.  Dad needed a little coaxing to
move; he still had his head down, riveted to where he stood.
   "Dad, you coming?"
   His trance broken, he looked at me with embarrassment and regret. 
"Yeah," he muttered and stepped through.
   I closed the door.
   --------------
   Inside the apartment, it was quiet except for our movements as we found
seats in the living room.  Dad walked down the hall to the kitchen.  I
moved to sit close to Mom on the couch.  She now had a large blanket draped
around her.  She slouched against one of the big couch pillows propped
behind her, and stared blankly at the floor.  Marcus sat sprawled in a
plump chair nearby.
   He'd made himself extremely comfortable, resting his feet on top of the
coffee table, and looked around the room a bit too nonchalantly.
   "Drink this, it will warm you up," Dad returned from the kitchen and
gently handed a cup of coffee on a saucer to Mom.
   She took it without acknowledging him, and I watched as Dad frowned at
her little before turning to go back to the kitchen.  "Ummm...  Marcus, was
it?" He called from behind the kitchen counter.
   "What?" Our guest replied.
   "Would you like some coffee?"
   "You got any beer, old boy?" He turned to grin at my Dad.
   I found myself at odds with Marcus, disliking him for his boorish
behavior during such a sensitive time.  It seemed like he was intentionally
forgetting his manners.
   Dad seemed irritated too, but I noticed that he hid it under a forced
smile.  "I've got some Golden Fountain."
   "Atta' boy!"
   He carried two bottles into the living room, handing one to Marcus and
keeping the other.  He sat down on the couch.  Dad and I now had Mom
sandwiched in, one of us on each side, and as we settled down I watched her
take another sip of her coffee.
   "Dad, can I have a beer too?"
   "No you can't young man, you're not yet twenty-one!" It was Mom who laid
down the law this time.
   I blushed with embarrassment when I heard Marcus snicker; and thought of
pointing out in protest that Marcus was also not yet of legal drinking age,
but backed down under Dad's glare.  I decided to just bear with the shame.
   Dad reached toward Mom's left shoulder and gave it a massage.  "Eva,
I've apologized to Marcus and I want to apologize to you.  I'm sorry about
the incident between Marcus and me.  It was a mistake on my part.  I was
just angry.  So now, can you please tell me how it happened?" He pleaded.
   For a few seconds, no one said a word.  Mom looked at Dad and he
returned her gaze, albeit a little anxiously.  We all wanted to give Mom
the time she needed.
   Finally, she started to speak.  "It was around 12.  I was out by the
curb waiting for a cab," She spoke softly, and took a breather,
recollecting.  After some more time passed, she continued.  "My friend Anna
insisted I stay at their house since I'd had a bit to drink, and it was
very late.  I turned down the offer though, since I wanted to go home to
you guys."
   She took a sip of coffee, carefully placing the cup back on its saucer,
and then put it on the table.  Clearing her throat, she carried on.  "While
I was trying to hail a taxi, I saw several men in a van shout at me -- some
of it sounded like Spanish.  I didn't understand, at first.  Then I
realized they were trying to pick me up.  They kept following me as I
walked up the street.  It made me nervous.  So I started running."
   Dad took some swigs of his beer, listening intently.
   "They then chased me, as some of them hopped out of the van.  I was
scared.  I tried to scream for help as I ran, but no one heard me.  I then
saw an alley and ran towards it.  But it was a dead end!  When I tried to
go back, they were already there.  It was too late.  I thought of calling
911, but then I realized my phone didn't have a battery anymore."
   I watched her eyes, sensing she was reliving the same fear as when she
had actually experienced those events.
   "One of them, a young Hispanic, approached me and said that if I go with
them, they won't hurt me.  When I refused, he slapped me hard on the face.
I then fell to the ground."
   She showed us the mark on her cheek where she'd been hit.  It looked
tender, and Dad began to lightly caress it.  She smiled weakly at him.  "I
tried to crawl away from them, but he grabbed my hair from behind and
yanked it." She pulled her hair in imitation of the act.  "I kicked him in
the nuts, and threw my cell phone at his face.  He dropped to the ground
after that.  I then continued crawling."
   For some reason, even though the guy in the story deserved it, for
hurting my mother, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.  I imagined
myself in his place, as he was hit by a kick in the balls, and it kind of
caused a phantom pain in my own testicles.  I believed the same sentiments
were shared by my father, as I noticed him gulped at the description.
   Even though the guy deserved it for hurting my mother, I couldn't help
but feel sorry for him.  I imagined myself in his place, as he was hit by a
kick in the balls; and it kind of caused a phantom pain in my own
testicles. I suspected that the same sentiments were shared by my Dad; I'd
noticed him gulp.
   "I reached a wall however, and I knew I had no more escape.  I saw him
get back up, fuming at me.  He then rushed at me and punched me in the eye.
I was staggered.  After that he started tearing of my clothes, while
slapping me in the face when I resisted.  Four other men then held me in
the arms and in the legs, as he took my bra and panties off..." She stopped
and began to cry.  Tears streamed down her face while Dad tried to comfort
her.
   It was getting really emotional, and I didn't think that she could carry
on with the story.
   She proved me wrong, as she tried again to speak.  "He then...he
then..." She stuttered though, and couldn't seem to follow up with more
words.  Dad continued to stroke her back.  Laying her head on his shoulder,
she began to muster more of her spirit.  "He then molested me...and I
couldn't do anything.  So I just closed my eyes, and prayed." She closed
her eyes for a while, as if trying to imagine the scene all over again.
   "It was then that I heard a thud and some gunshots.  When I opened my
eyes, he was there..." She opened her eyes, and then stared at Marcus, who
met her gaze.  Father caught this, and he too turned to look at my
classmate.  "He punched those assholes and shot some of them.  They tried
to fight back, but he was strong.  Really strong!"
   I then noticed her smile at Marcus, and watched him return her smile. 
It was the same one she always gave me.  One part of me didn't like her
giving it away to him, while another part of me was just glad to see it
return to her face.
   "When the guy who was raping me tried to shoot him with a gun, he shot
him first in the arm.  He then grabbed him, and threw him in the air.  He
was amazing!" She beamed with gratitude at him.  "When everything was over,
he went to me and lifted me up.  He then carried me." Her eyes, still a bit
teary, now seemed to show flashes of...maybe something more than grateful
admiration.
   I hoped I was mistaken.
   "He saved me."
   "Any real man would do the same thing, for a pretty woman like you,"
Marcus replied cheekily.
   I couldn't quite get over how he'd done all of those things for my Mom.
It wasn't as if I didn't appreciate his help, but it kind of messed with my
image of him.  Try as I might, I couldn't get beyond my initial impression
of him as some sort of barbaric, uncouth, malicious, sex-addicted asshole,
even though it seemed I was wrong and that he had a heart after all.
   "We should call the police and tell them about this!" My dad suddenly
came to life, slamming his fist angrily on the table, surprising everyone.
   Mom gaped at him with newfound fascination, but countered his decision,
saying, "As much as I want to, honey, Marcus said we shouldn't."
   Dad looked confused and scratched his head.  "Why?"
   Marcus laughed.
   Dad glared at him.  "What's so funny?"
   He stopped chuckling, and eyed Dad somberly.
   His sudden seriousness caught Dad off-guard.  I watched him move a
little farther back on the sofa.  I couldn't blame him though, as I too
felt nervous.  It was the first time I had observed Marcus with that
expression, and he looked downright intimidating.
   "Those mothafuckas got connection with the police, and unless you want
them busting their asses in your front door, then I suggest you don't call
them."
   Dad didn't seem to know what to say, so I volunteered, "How do you know?
Do you know them?"
   Marcus scoffed.  We waited for a few moments, but the silence continued.
   I was about to give up on getting a response, when he spoke up again. 
"Those sons- of-bitches are called Lil' Red Devils, a Latino gang.  They
kidnap women, beat them up, get them hook on drugs, and then sell them as
sex slaves to wealthy buyers."
   The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.
   "Oh my god!" Mom exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands.  Suddenly
it had dawned on her what a very close call she'd had, and how lucky to
have been saved by Marcus.
   In desperation, Dad stood up and paced the living room.  "So how do we
deal with them then, if we can't call the police?  We just can't stand here
and do nothing!  They raped my wife, for crying out loud!"
   As Marcus followed suit and stood up, he easily dwarfed the old man. 
Dad stopped pacing and stood in front of him.  Even my mom seemed
momentarily spellbound, staring wide-eyed at him while she bit her lower
lip.
   "I'll deal with them," said Marcus.  "We both go back a long way, old
boy." He fisted his right hand and slammed it into his left palm, then
cracked his knuckles.  He meant serious business, and with his formidable
physique and the aura of strength emanating from him, we were convinced.
   How could we not be convinced?  I thought to myself.
   "I gotta bounce," he then said.
   This caught Mom's attention.  "What, already?" She looked at him with
sad eyes and pursed her lips.
   Marcus flashed his pearly-whites at her and pointed to the clock hanging
on the kitchen wall.  "It's six-twenty in the morning, girl."
   "Oh." She eyed Dad pleadingly, He was befuddled, trying to read her body
language.  "...Do what?"
   "You know..." She twitched her eyebrow, and bobbed her head subtly at
him.
   It took him a few more seconds until he finally caught on.  "Oh," he
muttered, and fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he rifled through
its contents.  He selected a business card and handed it over.  "Here's my
card, Marcus.  Just call me if you need anything.  And I mean, anything..."
He stopped to scratch his head.  Based from his facial expression, he
seemed to shy away from what he felt he had to say next.  "Well at least,
within my financial boundaries and capabilities of course.  You know what I
mean," he quipped.
   Marcus glanced at the card and placed it in a pants pocket.  Then he
turned toward Mom and grinned.  She in turn smiled brightly at him while
running her fingers through her untidy hair, and tucked part of it behind
her ear.
   "Oh, I will.  You can count on that." He nodded, grinned, and then
headed toward the door.  About halfway there he halted and walked back
toward Mom while his right hand reached inside his front pocket.  "I almost
forgot.  This must be yours." He took out a pink rectangular device and
handed it to her.
   "Oh my god!  It's my cell phone!"
   "Yeah, girl.  I found it in--"
   Before he could finish, she stepped up to Marcus and embraced him.  She
even dropped her towel, exposing herself.
   "Easy, girl.  Easy." He said, smilingly.
   "Okay, that's enough." Dad pulled her away from him.  "Weren't you
leaving?  Like you said, it's already 6 in the morning, right."
   I examined the clock, and it said, "6:40."
   "Of course, old boy," Marcus replied.  He turned around and departed.
   "Take care, Marcus!" Mom shouted, which elicited a retaliatory glare
from Dad.  "What?  I was just saying goodbye."
   They started bickering, Dad clearly jealous, while she in turn made
excuses or denied each of his allegations.
   "Look at you, your tit is hanging freely, and then you hug him --"
   "My clothes got torn off, right?"
   "But you were also staring at him...and...and..."
   "No, I wasn't."
   Amidst their quarrel, Dad suddenly pointed to me and ordered, "You, lock
the door and make sure he doesn't come back in."
   "Jesus, Greg!" She exclaimed back.
   It was early morning, but the day was already bright.  Just before
locking it, I turned the handle and cracked open the door to look down the
hall.  I could see Marcus, about to enter the lift.  Before he stepped
inside he tore something to pieces and threw it behind his back.  It seemed
to be a small piece of paper...but I couldn't tell for sure.  The doors of
the lift closed.  I stood, peering outside for another moment.  There was
nothing more to see, so I closed and locked the door.
   ----------------------
   "Yaawwwnnnn!"
   "Seems like you must have had a crazy night."
   "You have no idea."
   My first class was English.  I sat, waiting for class to start, talking
with my best friend Chris, and yawning incessantly.  After Marcus had left
this morning, I'd had to prepare for school immediately.  I hadn't wanted
to go, but Dad had insisted.
   "Go to school, James."
   "But Dad, I don't feel like it.  And besides, I want to take care of
Mom. I'll just stay at home."
   "It's alright.  I'll be taking care of her.  I won't go to work today."
   "But Dad..."
   "GO TO SCHOOL, NOW!"
   Speaking of Marcus, it was unusual that he wasn't present today.  He was
usually early, as he always likes to hang around with his friends and
make-out with the hot girls in the class, before the teacher comes in. 
Even his usual cronies and bevy of hot chicks were nowhere to be found. 
Well, except for Mimi, who was sitting all alone on a chair while sucking
on a lollipop lasciviously.
   She wore her hair in a sort of Anime-inspired look: a short frizzy bob
tinted with brown highlights.  She had on a pink boob tube that wonderfully
accentuated her gigantic rack.  It seemed to be too tight for her, or maybe
she intentionally wanted her boobs to appear as though they were struggling
to stay inside.  To complete the look, she wore a black micro mini-skirt
and a pair of high heels.
   "Yo!  Where you going, bro?"
   "Just want to find out about something," I told Chris.
   At first she seemed not to notice my approach, as she continued to suck
and lick her lollipop.  It was making me hard watching her.  I imagined her
sucking the tip of my manhood instead, her small hands holding the shaft of
my penis while playing with my balls.  I woke up from my fantasy when I saw
her bite the lollipop.
   "Hi Mimi, how's it going?"
   She looked at me, checking me out from head to toe, and then turned
toward me slowly while shifting to cross her leg.  If she was wearing any
undergarments, they were the sheerest ever designed, as far as I could
tell!
   "What?" She asked, arching her eyebrow.
   "I just wanted to ask you about something."
   "Well, if you're here to ask me for a date, let me just say that I only
date guys with big cocks.  And judging from your looks, even though you're
kind of cute, you don't seem to have much in that department."
   I felt burnt down to a crisp.  I decided to soldier on, swallow my
pride, and just ask her what I'd come over to inquire about.  "Ummm...no. I
just wanted to ask you about Marcus.  How come he's not here?  Is he coming
to school today?"
   "Oh.  I don't know.  And I wished I knew, you know?  I wore all these
things for him, but he's not even here to appreciate it." She pouted while
looking at her two prodigious marshmallows and cupping them together.  I
watched and drooled, but luckily she didn't seem to notice.
   Heading back to my seat, I quickly halted when I heard her yell behind
me.  "Wait!  I think I know where he went to."
   "Well?" I turned around.
   "He said that he and the boys were going to prepare for something
tonight.  And something about devils." While Mimi wasn't sure what she was
talking about, it was clear enough to me.  Marcus was really going to honor
his promise to us.
   "I wished he could have just told me.  I would have dressed up as a
slutty devil and--"
   Chris stared at me oddly, as I sat back down next to him, his arms on
the table tucked under his chin.  He grinned and moved his eyebrows up and
down, wanting me to spill the beans.
   "What?"
   "And here I thought you had a thing for Amanda.  Or are you going for
the Asian babe now?" He countered my question with a question.
   "Ummm...  no.  I just went over there to ask her something."
   "To fuck her?  It's alright, bro.  It's our secret.  We're men.  To tell
you the truth, I fucked her too before."
   "Really?"
   "Yeah, last year in the basketball locker room."
   "Wow..."
   For a moment, I felt jealous; firstly because that meant he must have a
large-sized member while I only had one of average size ...  or so I
gathered.  And secondly because he'd managed to score with a sexy, hot girl
like her.  I quickly got over it though.  After all, he's my best friend.
   "I mean, no.  I asked her about Marcus."
   "Marcus?  Why?  What do you want to know about that asshole?"
   There were only five minutes left before Mr.  Wickman would arrive and
class would begin.  So I decided to briefly tell him about the incident.
   "Well, last night, my Mom--"
   ----------------------------
   "Damn, bro!  For her to experience that.  I'm glad to know she's okay,
though."
   "Yeah."
   We were now in line at the food service area, waiting our turn to be
served by the canteen crew.  Ever since I'd recounted what happened, Chris
hadn't stopped yapping about it.  At this particular moment I didn't mind,
as we were on a long queue and it helped to pass the time.
   "But damn, Marcus' saving her and doing all those shit.  I still can't
believe it."
   "Yeah, me too bro."
   There were now only five people ahead of us, as I watched one chubby kid
with glasses furthest in front, left with his tray full of food.  I was
really getting hungry.  I'd skipped breakfast.
   "You should be careful though.  Marcus probably will expect some sort of
payment."
   "What do you mean?"
   "You know, with her good looks, plus Marcus' reputation, and the fact
that he saved her.  Put all those things together..."
   He was right, of course.  It was too good to be true, for Marcus to have
done it purely out of altruism, especially when one considered his
character.  And he was at this moment getting ready to deal with the people
who had raped her: the "Little Red Devil" gang.  A cold sweat trickled down
my forehead as a scene flashed on my mind.
   "Wow, honey.  You really dealt with them, just like you promised."
   "It's how I roll, girl."
   Mom lay in bed wearing a white silk see-through negligee and no
underwear except for some grey stockings on her legs, laced to a black
garter belt.  I could even see her large round breasts through the sheer
fabric, the shape of her hard, pink nipples poking up freely under her
negligee.  Her nylon-covered legs were parted widely, and I noticed her
puffy pussy with a trimmed bush.  She posed on the bed, her head and back
supported on her elbows so she laid half upright, watching Marcus.
   He stood in front of her completely naked, displaying his well-built
muscles, toned six-pack abs, and massive chest.  He moved onto the bed and
sat in front of her cross-legged Indian-style, so she could readily see his
monstrous staff, fully erect, with veins visibly pulsing.  He smiled at her
as he gazed hungrily at her beautiful face, her perky and wild jungle tits,
and her exposed beaver.  She drank in his body with her eyes in return,
particularly his elephantine pole.  She was even licking her lips,
anticipating that he was going to be a delicious meal.
   "I know, sweetie.  And it's time for me to show you how I roll."
   She stared at him and smiled seductively before springing up,
tigress-like, and diving for his black cock.  Her mouth engulfed it, and
she bobbed up and down, sucking voraciously on as much as she could fit
inside.  Her hands encircled and stroked the rest of his fat dick
simultaneously.
   "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, bitch!" Marcus held her head with
his two hands, as she continued to suck him noisily.
   Sssllurrrppp...
   Sssllluurrrpp...
   Sssllluuurppp...
   "Relax, bro.  I was just kidding.  You should have seen your face!"
   His words startled me from my stupor.  I'd been staring blankly at Ruby
Hartman, a red-haired girl from my chemistry class, while she slurped
loudly on a Wet Dreams Frosty and chatting with some other cute girls at a
nearby table.
   "Fuck you, Chris!" I cursed at him.  It was a terrifying scenario which
I couldn't recount, not even to him.  Instead, I just grumbled and let him
continue to tease and laugh at me.  The hunger pangs were getting
insistent, as my stomach continued to growl.  I hypothesized that my being
famished might have had something to do with my hallucination.
   "...Next!" The fat canteen lady shouted.
   Finally, our turn!
   I could probably eat a live cow...or even her, whole, I thought,
salivating, and pointed at the different goodies lined up on the food
counter.  "I want this, and that, and that..."
   "Yo, slow down bro," Chris said to me laughingly, patting me on the
shoulder.
   She handed me a carton of orange juice, then deposited a serving of
mashed-potato, a side dish of some ugly-looking-but-supposedly-healthy
macaroni salad, and two small pieces of fried chicken wings.  No cookies,
no prawn salad, no potato chips, nor any of the beef stew.
   "What the fuck!?" I exclaimed, loudly enough for her to hear.
   She pointed to a sign pasted inside the glass:
   =================================================
   "Only athletes and those holding special-passes are allowed to get
additional servings and pick the food choices they want, outside of the
recommended and standardized meals, as set by the School Nutritionist."
   -Mrs.  Jackielyn del Gado, Physician and Nutrionist, St.  Aha-Aha High
School
   =================================================
   "It's alright, you can have mine, bro.  I'm not that hungry."
   Chris and I switched food trays.  His was similar but with bigger
portions and an additional dessert: yoghurt with some slices of mixed fruit
in a large cup.
   "Alright Chris, I forgive you for earlier."
   We grinned and chuckled together as we headed to our table.
   "...Next!" The canteen lady shouted.
   -----------
   "Hey, brothas!"
   "Hey Chris.  'Sup James." We sat with Sidhu, Josh, and Amanda.  Sidhu,
his usual quiet self, was chowing on some spicy-looking meat curry with
white rice.  Josh, his polar opposite personality-wise, alternated between
munching on his sandwich and chatting avidly with Chris.  They immediately
busied themselves talking about some dream MMA fight, in which I had no
interest.
   "Silva is the best middleweight in the world, man.  No one can beat
him!"
   "Not really, I know who can..."
   Every time I tried to stare at Amanda's eyes, she just either averted
her gaze towards her mixed-sushi or to our two friends who were now arguing
with each other.  It was like she didn't want to talk to me.
   "GSP?  For real?  Man, Silva will whip his ass with just one kick to the
head."
   "GSP...." We heard a voice with a heavy Indian accent.
   Chris and Josh stopped mid-sentence, and we all stared at Sidhu.  I was
sure his was the voice we'd heard speak, but now that our eyes were turned
to watch him, he simply ate his food nonchalantly, and soon doubts of
having witnessed such a phenomenon began to creep in.  A moment later, the
two boys continued with their friendly banter.
   "I'm telling you man, GSP, as good as he is, is just some sissy,
lame-ass, white boy compared to Silva."
   "Yeah?  And Silva is just some Brazilian black pussy who only knows how
to kick."
   While our friends' argument started to heat up, I caught Amanda staring
at me.  Again, she quickly turned away when I tried to return her gaze.  I
decided to ask her directly.  "So, are you going to talk to me?  Or will
you just continue to ignore me?"
   Chris and Josh, upon hearing me, again halted their banter, and focused
on us.
   "So?" I asked her after a few moments of silence.  Still there was no
reply.  She continued to stare off to her left, avoiding my gaze.
   "Oooohh, are you guys having a lover's quarrel?" Josh quipped, eliciting
a laugh from Chris.
   "Fuck you, Josh!" Finally she spoke!
   "Looks like we hit the sweet spot.  Kapow!" Chris added merrily.
   This time, she finally responded.  But first, she sighed.  "Alright,
alright.  Geesh..." She pointed to the door leading out to the courtyard.
   I nodded back.  We stood up to leave the guys, only to turn and see
Chris and Josh face-to-face with each other with only a few inches between
them.  Their lips were pointed to each other, as if they wanted to kiss
each other, their eyes keyed in our direction.  She lifted her middle
finger and flipped them the bird.  They chuckled hard.  Even I was amused
by both at them ...  and the graceless, crude...yet adorable blonde I was
with.
   "I told you she was going to get mad," I heard Josh say.
   -------------------------------
   We stepped outside into the bright, hot sun; unusual weather considering
it was already November.  We chose a bench side-by-side under a large tree
that people called the 'Tree of Heaven' or 'Tree of Hell', depending on
whom you asked.  Not that I really cared much right then; whatever it is
called, I was just glad it provided shade.  We sat and observed the other
people hanging out and walking around the courtyard.
   "Do you like me?" I broke the ice.
   "Of course I do, but..." She hesitated.
   "But ...  what?" I turned to her.
   "But we are friends, and--"
   "So you don't like me?"
   "No, silly.  I mean yes, but I was just surprised for you and me to like
each other--"
   We stopped talking briefly, our attention caught by two beautiful girls
a short distance away: a sexy black girl with cornrows and luscious lips
walked hand-in-hand with a Middle-Eastern chick with impeccable eyes and
gorgeous brown skin.  I narrowed my eyes: they were being followed closely
by two suspicious-looking guys.  The first was a skinny black fellow, also
with cornrows, who held in his hand what seemed to be a video recorder. 
The other one I recognized as the same chubby four-eyed kid in the canteen
a while ago.
   I turned to face her, deciding I couldn't take any of the suspense any
longer.  I reached up and held her chin with my hand, then leaned in and
pressed my lips to hers.  She pushed me off, flabbergasted.  But then it
was my turn to be so, as she grabbed my head and kissed me back.
   "So you do like me!" I gasped as we halted to catch our breaths.
   "Shut up."
   We continued making-out, our lips tight together, and our tongues
exploring each other's mouths for quite some time.  We had to stop when the
school bell rang.
   "Just don't cheat on me, alright?  My ex-boyfriend did ...  a lot, and I
don't think I would be able to handle it again." The way her eyes looked
spoke volumes.  I knew the feeling quite well, as my previous girlfriend
back in Nebraska had cheated on me with my former classmates, some whom I'd
considered my friends.
   "Yeah, me too."
   "Your ex-boyfriend also cheated on you?"
   "NO!  I mean my ex-girlfriend."
   She was joking of course, but I still corrected her.  She laughed at me
hard, showing me her very cute dimples.  After that, she gave me a soft
kiss on the cheek.  "Just kidding, boyfie."
   ----------------
   "Hi Mom!"
   "Hi, honey.  How was school today?"
   "Great!"
   After school Amanda and I told the guys that we'd just officially become
couples.  I'd thought that they would be surprised; but I was quite
mistaken.  In fact, Chris, Josh, and even Sidhu had made a $100 bet as to
when we would do so.  And to my astonishment, Sidhu won.  Amanda had then
given them each a slap in the face for their audacity, to which they had
all just chortled.
   "Where's Dad?"
   Mom sat with her chin on the top of the couch, while her arms rested
underneath it.  By now the bruises and swellings were beginning to heal,
though many were still visible on her face and body.  Her feet paddled up
and down slowly on top of the coffee table.  She seemed quite bored, as she
stared at me, while I sat on a chair in the kitchen.  "Still at work," she
answered back indifferently.
   I speculated, based from the tone of her voice, that they probably had a
fight over it.  "I thought he said he wasn't going to work today."
   As expected, she didn't answer back.  She changed the topic.  "Anyway,
you seem very happy.  Anything good happen in particular?" She enquired,
eyeing me inquisitively.
   My mother had a knack for knowing when something eventful - good or bad
- happened to people, especially those she cared about.  Like when Dad had
gotten fired ...  she'd known automatically what had happened; well, plus
he'd come home drunk even though it was early morning.  And once when our
fifty-year-old neighbor back in Nebraska had screamed for joy, my Mom
perceived immediately that she'd found out she was finally pregnant.  And
last year when I'd come home after school crying, she'd already discerned
that I'd broken up with my ex.  "Well?" She asked again.
   "Nothing really.  I just hung out with my friends, that's all." I
replied, trying to act as cool as possible.
   "Ooookaaayyyy..." she phonated emphatically, and leered at me, then
smiled.  Obviously she wasn't buying it.  There was no escaping her.  "By
the way, I didn't get to cook, as your Dad didn't want me to leave the
house for groceries."
   I opened the fridge and found out that there was nothing to eat except
fruit, and a half-eaten burger on a plate, probably leftover from Dad's
lunch.
   "Then what are we going to eat for dinner?"
   "Oh, don't mind me.  I'm not hungry.  But you could try calling the fast
food place in that flier over there." She pointed to a colorful leaflet
resting on top of the counter near the sink.  I took it, and after a quick
scan recognized what type of cuisine they were offering.
   "Mexican Food?"
   "Yeah, your Dad saw it in the mailbox.  It's supposed to be some new
fast food in Bushwick."
   =================================================
   Coņo Caliente Mexican Fastfood and Delivery (Mondays to Saturdays:
8am-to-2am Sundays: 9am-to-10pm)
   Try our Picantelicious Tacos (It's so hot, it will make you drool!)
   Delivery Hotline: (695) 555-XXX-XXX
   =================================================
   "I guess it's better than nothing." I dialed and waited.
   After several rings, a man with a distinctive Latino-accent answered. 
"Hola!  Thank you for calling Coņo Caliente.  May I take your order?"
   "Umm...yes.  I would like to order one Picantelicious Taco with extra
Cheesy Salsa Dip ...  one Black Beanie Burrito...Cheesy Splooge Roll-up,
and a large Nookie Cola."
   "S'!  S'!  Will that be all, seņor?"
   "Yes."
   "Can you give me your address, seņor?"
   "It's Unit 6 on the 8th floor, Double Rainbow Apartment, 69 Gate Avenue,
in Buckhill."
   "S'!  S'!  Expect your order within 30 minutes seņor, or I'll kill our
delivery guy if he doesn't.  Gracias for calling Coņo Caliente."
   There was nothing for it but to wait until my food arrived, so I sat
with Mom on the couch.  She was watching some soap on T.V.  called "Amorous
Housewives", or something like that, about a group of horny wives and their
various sexual escapades with different men and women, including each
other. In this particular episode, a brunette bombshell and a muscular
black guy spooned with each other on the bed.
   (That was great baby.) (Yeah, you made me cum twice!) (You were an
animal!) (I know.  Am I not always?) (I love you baby.) (I love you too,
Dianne.)
   I looked over at Mom, who seemed deeply engrossed.  She stared, biting
her left thumb, transfixed.  As I ogled her, I discovered that she was
wearing her favorite white silk, see-through negligee - the very same one
in my fantasy, that I have had while I was standing in line at lunch.  Only
now she wore a black bra and panties underneath,and no garter-belt laced
stockings.  It was kind of pervy for me to be musing about it, yet I
couldn't help thinking she still looked amazing and sexy...  just like in
my imagination.
   (What the fuck is happening here?) (Roger, wait, I can explain!) (It is
what it is, my man.  Your wife and I are lovers.) (WHAT?  I'll fucking kill
you!) (Roger, wait!) (B-BANG!!) (ROGER!!) (Come on Dianne, we don't need
that fool.)
   I heard a knock on the front door.  At last, my food had arrived.
   "Coma tose, espero que tenga."
   "What?"
   A bespectacled fat kid with a reversed-black cap on his head, a red
shirt that said 'Coņo Caliente We Serve Your Tacos Hot!', and khaki brown
shorts stood in the doorway holding a large brown paper bag.  "Cut me some
slack, dude.  I flunked my Spanish class last year and I have to retake it
again this year." He handed me the food.
   He seemed very familiar, and a scene flashed in my head.  He had been
following the gorgeous black girl and the pretty Middle-Eastern girl in the
courtyard.  "Wait, I remember you!  You were one of the guys sneaking
behind those two girls during lunch break."
   "Sshhh ...  that's top secret.  And yeah, they were lesbians," he
asserted.
   I got a bit curious.  He seemed to be a very interesting guy.  So I
decided to find out if he was in the same grade.  "Are you a senior?"
   "Nah, I'm a junior.  I was actually supposed to be a senior this year,
but then I had to repeat a grade again."
   "So, do you know...  Marcus Williams?"
   "Of course, everybody knows that asshole." He replied with emphasis,
which delighted me.
   "My name is James, by the way." I offered my hand for a shake.
   "Crabbe.  And yeah, it's a strange name.  You don't have to tell me."
   I tried to think of more things to talk about, but my stomach growled,
which told me I really needed to eat.  So instead I asked my new friend how
much I owed.  "Well, anyway, how much is my food?"
   "Its $7.50 including the delivery cost, but not the delivery tip."
   He opened one hand and showed me the receipt, while rubbing his fingers
together on the other.  It was very cheeky.  But I understood.
   "Just stay there for a sec." I told him, as I closed the door partway. I
placed the delivery on the kitchen table and walked over to Mom who was now
watching a new show.  I tapped her on the shoulder.  "Mom, can I get 10
bucks?"
   "Sure, honey, let me just get my purse." She stood up and entered her
room, while I hovered outside.  After some time, she emerged and handed me
a ten-dollar bill.
   "Here you go."
   "Thanks Mom."
   I widened the door more than necessary, as I handed Crabbe the payment.
"Well, here's $10."
   "Puta Santo del Christo!  A MILF"
   He suddenly gave a low whistle, while gawking at something behind me.  I
turned around and realized he was ogling my mom.  I had to agree she was a
sight to behold.  We watched her hips sway as she strolled toward her room
with an apple in hand.  Due to her injuries, or maybe because she was just
clumsy, she accidentally dropped the fruit on the floor.  We watched her
bend down to pick it up, hoisting her bountiful ass in the air and
displaying her black panties to us.
   "Are you tapping that ass, dude?" He leered at me, grinning like the
Cheshire Cat.
   I was well aware that my Mom was an alluring woman...  a lot people had
mentioned it including Chris, Josh, and even Amanda.  Chris and Josh had
even admitted to having a crush on her.  Even I, her own son, found her
stunning.  But thinking about her in a sexual way was a line I wouldn't
allow my mind to cross.  I found it repugnantly wrong.
   "What the fuck?  She's my mom."
   "So?  I would have, if she was mine."
   "Just listen to yourself.  That's sick."
   "If she was my mom, I'll be riding her juicy ass all night long." He
then imitated boinking her doggy style, while slapping an imaginary version
of her butt-cheeks.
   So much for making a new friend, I thought, getting pissed, and I pushed
him back out into the hall.  "Get the fuck out, sicko!  And keep the
change," I barked, closing the door.
   Undeterred, he knocked, clamoring for me to open the door again.  "Wait
dude, open the door!  I forgot to give you the special sauce."
   "I'll call your boss, if you don't stop!"
   "It's for free!  I'm sure your mom will like it." He persisted again.
   "That's it!  I'm calling your shop now!"
   That did the trick.  He finally left, as I heard nothing more from him.
   "Honey, what was that?"
   "The delivery guy was just offering some free special sauce."
   "Well, did you take it?  I would have, if I knew it was free." She
cocked an eyebrow.
   "Nah, I'm good."
   She didn't probe for more information.  "Okay, I'm going to sleep now,
alright.  So don't bother me, unless it's important, as I really need my
rest."
   "Sure."
   "Good night, sweetie." After blowing me a kiss, she closed the door.  I
turned on the TV and started munching hungrily away at the tacos.
   (Horny?  Lonely?  Tired of giving yourself, self-love?  Try our new
inflatable--)
   (I'm federal agent Jack Offer, and today is the longest day of my
life.--)
   (Crikey!  Did you just see that alligator--)
   (Life with you could never be boring.  Claire Cornhol Waldeaf, will
you--)
   (Baby, baby, baby ohh...  I thought you'd--)
   I browsed through the channels, but found nothing good to watch.  So I
just opted for one of the news channels.  At least I'll learn something. 
Even though, of course, most of the stories in the news are lies and full
of crap, I thought to myself.
   (Ten...den...den...ding...ding...ten...  )
   (Good evening fellow Brooklynians.  My name is Andra Resme.)
   (And my name is Dick Harden.)
   (Welcome to News 69 Brooklyn, were we bring you all the guzzling news,
like it happened right at your doorstep.)
   (For our first top story tonight, our U.S.  President Derek O'Hammer has
just signed...)
   Just as I was going to press the off-button in the remote, something
caught my interest: a flash news report came on-screen.
   (This just in.  According to our sources, a gang-related massacre
happened in the vicinity of Bushwick, leaving twelve people dead and two
critically injured.
   Witnesses say that it was a fight between a Latino gang called 'El
Diablillo Rojos', infamously known for extortion, illegal human
trafficking, and sex trade; and a group of five unknown African-Americans.
There are as yet no known motives for the fight.
   Our field reporter, Suzy Sackboyles is in with the Brooklyn Chief of
Police, Enriquez Morales.)
   A cold shiver ran down my spine.
   (Hello, everyone, I'm with the Chief of Police, Mr.  Enriquez Morales
right now.  Hello sir.)
   (Thank you, Suzy.  I'm a big fan, and I must say you're really
beautiful, especially in person.  And quite hot too.)
   (Thank you, sir.  Ummm...)
   (Are you by any chance free tonight?)
   (Yes, but umm...  Can you please tell us who the other group might be? )
   (As of now, we don't know exactly yet.  But you can be sure, and the
same goes to all my fellow Brooklynians out there, that we will catch them,
and then apprehend them as soon as possible.)
   (But sir, there were some witnesses who said that this other group were
some sort-of heroes.  They said that these men attacked the El
Diab...billi--)
   (El Diablillo Rojos)
   (Yes, the El Diablillo Rojos.  They also said that this other group, a
group of African-Americans, freed some of the women that were held captive
by the El Diablillo Rojos.  What can you say about that?)
   (Let me just tell you one thing, and one for thing for sure, these group
of blacks are no heroes!  They are enemies!  They're a menace!  A menace to
society!  United States of America doesn't need vigilantes!  Brooklyn
doesn't need any vigilantes either!  )
   (Ummm...  sorry.  Please continue.)
   (If we reward these sort-of activities, then it will inspire more people
to the same.  Next thing you know, kids will be buying guns and shooting
each other.  It will create chaos!
   So leave it to us, my fellow Brooklynians.  Leave it to us to apprehend
the criminals!  Leave it to us to keep your streets safe!)
   (Wow...  god...)
   (So can I take you to dinner now?)
   (Ummm...yes.)
   (Well, let's get coming...  I mean going.)
   I turned off the T.V.  and went to my room.  As I lay in bed
contemplating the news, I realized my opinion of Marcus had finally turned
a corner and I now saw Marcus in a new light.  Before, he'd seemed nothing
more than a selfish, uncivilized, bad-natured individual, with only sex on
his mind.
   But now that he'd saved my mother, and revenged her rape, he'd won me
over and I vowed that the next time I saw him I'd thank him face-to-face,
and try my best to become friends with him.
   ("Yess...ahhh...yes...")
   I heard strange sounds, coming through the walls from the next room.
   ("God ...  that feels good, baby.  There.  Right there...")
   ("Ahh ...  fuck.  I'm about to cum honey ...  just a little more...")
   Is she having sex with Dad?  I hadn't heard anyone come through the
front door.
   ("Fuck!  I'm cumming baby!  I'm cumming!  I'm cumming, Marcus!")
   I shuddered, and then froze.  Multiple thoughts flooded my mind.
   "...Marcus?
  
Chapter 03- Inimicus (MF hs dream cheat interr humor)