Patsy's hair was damp and she was wearing an oversized t-shirt that reached about half way down her thighs, which probably meant she was getting ready...for bed. Looking at her, Woody was not sure what she was wearing underneath the shirt, because the dark blue color was not transparent. She was not wearing a bra that much was obvious, her breasts swayed smoothly when she turned to walk to the kitchen. If his fingers tingled to touch her, he hid it well. Woody leaned against the kitchen cabinet. Frank, a young African American, was greatly feared by everyone in the city of New York. Crack whores, other drug dealers, thugs, police all feared the great Frank Lucas. He was pretty good size, a firm body and abs to rock any girls world. Frank knew he was on top and he planned to stay there no matter what it took. Frank tossed his suit jacket across the bed, as he walked by it into the bathroom. He stared into the mirror, looking at himself, he was proud of what he made. Though he even. More

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