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A Midnight Swim

Ray Childress

P.O.Box 37118

Oak Park, MI 48237

‘A Midnight Swim’

Genre: Erotic Romance/ Naughty with Sizzle

Word count: 4430


Synopsis: A young, adventurous, newlywed couple home for the holidays get into a good-natured debate about one another’s athletic prowess; which leads to a midnight swim event, followed by some steamy love-making.

A Midnight Swim


Akila Cruz & Ray Childress

Following more than 2 decades of marriage the vigor between man and wife can grow stale; which usually was not the case when it came to Carmella and Lucas’s lavish lifestyle. But with them bickering and barely on speaking terms for the last week or so, it was time for something or someone to give.

Lucas, a former athlete who’d not yet gone soft around the mid-section, sighed dreadfully and headed up to bed with his 3rd beer of the evening pressed to his lips. “Mmmm,” as he entered the master bedroom the sight of his shapely Puerto Rican wife standing there in nothing but one of his Ferragamo silk shirts brought forth a different kind of exhalation. The buttons were undone in a way that allowed the edges to gape to reveal her high, upstanding full breasts and narrow rib cage. Another step closer unveiled her tiny waist and flat stomach, which remained smoothly tight following two childbirth’s and a swift visit to a highly regarded plastic surgeon.

With shoulders thrust back proudly, Carmella nodded to indicate the cerveza her husband held near his lips. “Cuanto   (How many)?”

Lucas glanced up and blinked, as if he’d just noticed her. “Oh, uh, 3 or 4.”

She bashfully bit into her bottom lip, dropped her lovely hazel-grey eyes to where his had just been, then reached for his beer. “Se puede (May I)?”

He felt a familiar stirring below the belt as he watched her head tilt back to drain the bottle.. Asombroso (Amazing) At that instant, he realized they’d gone without any form of sexual interaction since their daughter and son-in-law had moved in.

Sensing her husband’s thoughts, Carmella waded in. “I don’t understand why Lisa and Tony staying here bov’vers jhu?”

Lucas looked away, thinking, then set his dark gaze upon her. “She is too young. She has her entire future ahead of her-“

“And now she’s casado (married).” She finished for him.

“And pregnant.” He added.

“By a loving esposo (Husband).” Carmella lifted her hand to map his face, fingers moving gently. “A man that worships her.”

Lucas sighed as though there were more issues than just them loving each other that bothered him.

She over bit her bottom lip and lovingly angled her head to the side to look up into Lucas’s eyes. “Que es esto (What is it)?”

“Man,” he groaned and avoided her prying eyes.

“Spill ‘eet, Papi.”

For more Visit

Rollin Thru the Hood


Ray Childress

P.O. Box 37118

Oak Park, MI 48237



‘Rollin Thru the Hood’


Genre: Fiction


Word count 983

Bio: Ray Childress.  Born in Pittsburgh, PA., yet raised as well in Omaha Nebraska, and Compton California.  Served a short tour in U.S. military (Honorable Discharge) prior to receiving a 25-to-life prison sentence for a joint Federal/State prosecution on racketeering, drugs, and gun charges.  He began to write novels and screenplays to pass the time after turning down an offer to have a book written about the miss-steps he’d taken throughout his first 22 years of life before prison.







“Dad, juh lived in that gw’ay building over there when you was a boy?”  The enthusiastic 4-year old eked as the white-on-white Navigator passed by the grey apartment building.

“Yeah”, Reece spoke, removing his PITT ball cap before casually tossing it onto the back seat—as was the custom for most young Black males when they entered a predominantly Black neighborhood.  “You don’t remember the time I took you to play in that big park down the block?”

A huge smile spread across the boy’s face and he began to promptly nod his big head up and down, to the point of it jovially tumbling from atop his narrow shoulders.  “Yep, Daddy…  It was fun, too!”

Reece’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of so much innocence and jubilance in his son’s voice…  After having spent the better part of the day over on the North Side of the city taking in a College football game with his bouncy 4-year-old, he’d turned off of Penn Avenue to cruise through his old Point Breeze neighborhood, where things were not the best but were far from the worst.  He then drove the customized SUV down N. Dallas into the rough and rugged Homewood section of his old hood where blocks upon blocks of row houses and two-story homes that had seen better days stretched on for as far as the eye could see, amid a jigsaw-like collage of abandon and crumbling buildings, homes, and weed strewn vacant lots.  It was some place; a place where only high-crime and open-air drug markets flourished.  Though unlike within most ghettos around the United States of America, this one was criminally ruled by those that controlled the killer alleyways and dangerous cuts that crisscrossed throughout the decaying neighborhood like a complicated crossword puzzle.

In reference to Reece, a 25-year-old whom some might characterize as a Street Nigga or a Thug who had lived through it all: the shoot-outs in the middle of the street, the fast women and the drama that came with that, the moving of large volume numbers of drugs, even a stint or two behind bars—it took nothing more than the birth of the little guy strapped into the seat beside him for him to make a drastic lifestyle change.

“There dey go, Dad…”  the brown-skinned child suddenly screeched and twisted in his seat to jab a tiny index finger out towards their left, in the direction of two all-American white boys sitting in a police cruiser parked on a side street.  “Hondo (The cops)!”

“R.J.,” Reece replied, as he watched the cops out of the corner of his eye while passing them by.

“Huh, Dad…”  The boy probed, peering up through a set of bright and very intelligent dark eyes that keenly resembled his father’s.

“I see’em.  They’re out here huntin’…  Looking for somethin’ young, Black, and wearing a fitted cap.”  He took another look to make sure they hadn’t hopped on him, “Preferably turned to the back.”

The boy’s soft features skewed as he pondered, his small mouth and little snub-nose clearly a gift from his mother—along with his spunk and a lot of his toughness; something even the boy’s father would begrudgingly admit to if pressed on it.

Reece winked at the boy after giving him a few heartbeats to think over the jewel he’d just dropped..  “Son, they like boys like yourself to wear caps…”  He eyed him, “It makes y’all easier to track.”

The boy’s eyes lit up at the extra tidbit of information.  “I understand..  It’s like on the Animal Planet when lions and cheetahs hunt herds.”  His chest heaved with an excited intake of breath, “They w’ook for any weakness.  Then dey stalk the ones they picked.”

“Exactly,” He responded eyeing the traffic and checking his rearview mirror.  “They look for any weakness.”

Reece glanced down at the platinum band on his left ring-finger and thought, Imma’ family man, now. Then he growled and reached out to claw playfully at his son’s knee, “Ra-aah!” which sent the boy into a fit of high-pitched, uncontrollable, childish giggling.

“Nooooo! Aaahh, Da’ddyyyyyy!” R.J. shrieked and squirmed within the snug confines of the seat belt.  “Da’ddyyy, pleeeeeeeeze!”

“Okay-okay, okay, you know I ain’t gon’ let nobody get at you.”  He said, soothingly rubbing his child’s curly head of hair.  “On er’thing,”   He added, more to himself than the boy, “They’ll never get a chance to get’ chu.”

With R.J.’s giggling fit subsiding, he heard his father clearly; thus he turned to him, overbit his bottom lip, blinked a few times, then studied him with those deep, inquisitive eyes…. “Why would they want me, Dad?”

Reece scratched at his shadow of a beard in momentary thought, prior to turning onto Lang Avenue…  “They love to hunt Black and Brown boys like you..  because y’all make good game.”

With that said, in a huff the boy crossed his arms in a way that belied his 4 years on Mother Earth, and then went into a bottom-lip protruding pout.  “They are not going to get me.”  R.J. wrinkled up his brow in anger, “I’m not like those dumb impalas and gazelles..  I’m smart.”

The young man turned to his boy and grinned proudly.  “Yes you are.”