Read Online Killing Johnny Fry by Walter Mosley - Free Book Online

day that our relationship was over. I wasn‘t upset about it. I didn‘t even plan to tell her that I knew about her and Johnny Fry.
    Everything was new. I‘d quit my job, had two women I could at least pursue, and I had at least two years in which I didn‘t have to earn a dime.
    I laughed out loud. Johnny Fry‘s big red dick had set me free.
    I didn‘t feel a thing for Joelle anymore. I didn‘t even want to see her, but I figured that I should go to her house and tell her so. I‘d tell her the truth:
I just don‘t love you anymore.
That‘s all I had to say.
    “A glass
of
red wine, please,” I said to the waiter, a young would-be actor named Jean-Paul.
    He smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was a new life. I was free for the first time that I could remember. I sat there watching women go by dressed in the scanty clothing they put on for the summer heat. I was thinking about Sisypha. She could be any woman walking down the street, and no one would ever guess what she was like or what she was doing at home. You‘d look at her and think,
There goes a nice-looking woman. Wedding ring. Probably has two kids and no orgasms.
    I decided that one day I‘d meet Sisypha and ask her something that would catch her attention.
    I grabbed a cab at 6:20. The Pakistani cabbie took me to Joelle‘s building on Central Park West. Jorge, a middle-aged, half-bald Dominican man, was at the front desk. He waved me by without announcing me.
    I dreaded the elevator car reaching her floor. It wasn‘t that I felt bad about having seen her and Johnny; it was that I didn‘t want her anymore. I didn‘t want to see her or talk to her or to pretend to care.
    When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I waited a moment, took a deep breath, and then stepped out into the hall. I was planning to break up with her before we ate. I‘d sit down in the living room, and when she offered me a drink, I‘d say, “I have something to talk to you about, J o . “ I wouldn‘t call her honey or sweetheart or darling—never again.
    She opened the door and smiled. Her copper-brown skin and dark hair were glowing, literally. She had on a knee-length brown skirt and a green T-shirt that hugged her slender figure. When I looked at her, I felt nothing. I mean, I noticed that she was glowing, of course, but that held no attraction for me.
    The thought that Johnny Fry had been there in the afternoon crossed my mind.
    She opened her arms to welcome me, and I reached down and pulled the T-shirt up over her breasts, as it had been with Johnny two days before.
    “L!” she yelped.
    Her nipples were both hard and plump, darker brown than her copper mounds. I took one in my mouth and sucked it hard and then licked the other one. A satisfied hum came up in my throat.
    “L!"
    I Wrapped my arms together just below her butt and raised her so that I could rub my face against her breasts.
    “Oh my God!"
    I brought the flat
of
my bruised hand up under her skirt from behind, curling the fingers firmly against her vagina. She moaned then.
    “Close the door,” she gasped.
    I kicked the door shut and pushed Jo to the floor right there in the entrance hall.
    “Let‘s go to the bedroom,” she panted.
    “No,” I said as I pulled off her panties.
    She was working my zipper down.
    She got my erection out and stood up with it firmly in her grasp. She pulled hard and I followed. She brought me to the couch and sat on the back rest, guiding me inside her. I was so excited that I didn‘t realize at first that she was positioning me in exactly the same place that Johnny Fry had stood. I worried for a moment that I‘d lose my excitement, but then a passion overtook me, and I began to buck in and out of her as hard as I could. I didn‘t feel anything. I was numb. All I could hear was Jo shouting, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and the slapping of our flesh in staccato rhythm.
    When I came, I was bucking so hard that I came out of her. She grabbed my cock, keeping up the rhythm by