Chapter 5

"Hello?"

Billy glanced at his watch as he picked up the phone. It was about 11:30 in the morning, and he was just coming alive. Beside him, on the futon, the soft Japanese mattress that was placed over the tatami mats and which was always stored away during the day, Sunny stirred, though she was still pretty much asleep.

"Hello, Billy Boy, do you know who this is?"

He thought, Billy Boy, what kind of shuckin and jivin' is this ... some smartass white chick playing games ... I ought to whop her right in the chops with Number One. ...

Then, lowering his voice so as not to wake up Sunny, he said, "I know we must have some business, but I've got company right now, so you better give it to me straight, you understand?"

There was a pause for a few seconds. He was sure he'd heard that voice before—rich, deep, husky beyond Lauren Bacall—but he couldn't quite place it at the moment. He yawned, trying to shake the sleep from his head; his prick twitched appreciatively, for the voice was indeed sensuous, sexily provocative.

"This is Miriam." Meaningful pause. "Miriam Hen

derson, from the American Embassy." Then, the voice doubled its tempo, as she quickly spoke, "Please don't feel as if I'm being smart, but I thought calling you Billy Boy would get your attention. And, if you have company, I understand, and I'll be brief. Billy, you beautiful black stud, you avenging angel, you super lover." She paused for breath, then continued, "If you're wondering how I got your phone number, remember it's on file at the Embassy. And, of course, if a woman answered, I'd simply hang right up. Right?"

"Sure. What kind of business did you have in mind?" he said, feeling Sunny stirring awake beside him.

"I'd like to invite you out to lunch. My boss is taking a long lunch hour, he has a special meeting, so I thought I'd take advantage of that and take some more time myself." Pause. "And, since I haven't seen you for a couple of weeks ... well, I'd like to, if you know what I mean."

"Where, and what time?"

"My place, an hour from now." She quickly gave him the address, in case he'd forgotten; he had. "I'll be taking care of things in the cooking department, and if you can chance an upset stomach, I'll chance an upset lover." She laughed softly, then added, "Am I on?"

He chuckled very quickly, as he said, "Am I in?"

"That's not a question, that's a statement of fact."

He smiled, and closed the conversation with, "I've got the pitch, we'll talk about that business when I I get there. Sayonara"

He hung up.

"Billy-san, what happening?" Sunny said sleepily,

blinking her sweet-soul brown eyes at him, brushing her long black hair from her face, as her hand moved over to Number One and began to gently rub it awake.

"Last minute business conference," he said, reaching over to touch her tit, noticing that her nipple was getting erect already. He added, "Got to split in about fifteen or twenty, this dude's taking me to lunch, big business deal coming up. Tell you about it when I get back, maybe have lots more yen to dump in the bank, you dig?"

She moved her head close to him, her tongue tickling over his lips. Then, she started to French him, her tongue slipping between his lips and crossing right over his teeth, getting inside his mouth and tangling with his own tongue, like two fencers crossing swords.

They tasted each other.

He moved his hands toward her breasts again, gripping those bounteous boobs firmly, pressing gently against the base as he rubbed her nipples with the palms of his hands. She began to stir, really get moving; she threw off the blanket, snuggled her lovely naked body next to him, as he pressed even harder on her breasts. He could feel her body moving, her muscles reacting. He could also feel her hand really clutching at his cock, and he knew it wouldn't be long before Number One was ready and steady for some rocking, socking sex.

They kept on kissing, tongues tangled as he moved side by side with her, both of them resting on their haunches, sideways. Almost, he thought, like the angle of her sweet slanting eyes. Though, he laughed to himself, she didn't have a slanting pussy; that was

a legend, a silly story, about screwing Orientals sideways. No way.

He could feel his balls filling up his scrotum, stretching that thin skin sac almost to the breaking point. She was practically peeling his foreskin off, and his prick was growing like a magic mushroom, getting stiffer with each second.

He spread his legs, shaping them into a V and urging, with his body, that she should do the same.

Still holding his member, she spread her lovely legs, too, and began to draw him toward her. He felt the tip of his prick touching her pussy lips— oh, they were wet, no problem there—and then, she began to draw him inside her. She felt him enter her, inch by inch, her membranes giving way to his requested invasion, his usurpation of sexual space. She wasn't as wet as he liked—he had some tough sledding, so to speak, to go through as he went along, stopping here and there for a few seconds to get himself together again—but he managed, with her good grip, to get all the way inside, at last, nudging her right up against her womb, letting her know it was all hanging out, right inside her.

They broke their kiss.

He sneaked his head around, and bit her, not once but three successive times, on the nape of her neck. With each bite, he could feel her shudder with delight, like some wriggling fish he'd caught on his hook.

Releasing his grip on her breasts, he swung his hands around her shoulders. She scrunched up close, her tantalizing titties pressing hard against his chest. As he sniffed her hair, she began to lick his earlobe, her tongue gently curving around the shape of his

ear, as if she was drawing his ear shape with pen and paper.

Then, as he felt her vaginal muscles began their expressive expansions and contractions, she slipped her tongue inside his ear, and began to demolish what little wax remained embedded there. It was weird, in a way; while he was fucking her with his cock, she was screwing him with her tongue. He could feel her manipulate her tongue movements in harmony with his Number One moving around in her tight sweet cunt.

As he jabbed her in the pussy, so also she stabbed him in the ear.

He chuckled; Sunny was really one far-out, freaky, but sweet little chick. He wondered how he could ever really feel like making it with Miriam, a short time from now; Sunny was just too subtle, so sexy at the same time.

Well, he'd worry about Miriam when he saw her.

Right now, he was socking it to Sunny, driving and thrusting his member deep inside her, feeling her internal muscles reacting to his methodical movements.

Then, she started coming, her pussy clutching at his cock like a vice holding a hot piece of metal. He could feel her juices flowing, straining and staining their skin. He thrust upward as well as sideways, trying to touch her membranes in new places, different ways, as he kept on ramming it to her.

Her orgasm increased in intensity, and he could feel her tiny but supple body really putting the old sexual pressure on him. Again, as always, he waited and this time, when she was really reaching a crest, he came.

One round after another, he blasted her, his cock curling and uncurling like a striking snake. She got her hands around his ass, her fingernails gripping him so hard she almost drew blood as he fired round after round into her, humping and pumping until he could feel his member slowly getting soft.

He moved so as to lie on his back, and pulled her on top of him. She was still going, still coming, even though he was now getting soft He lay there, letting her continue coming all over him, until she was exhausted and had to simply lie still, their come juices intermixed and intermingling on their skins.

Whispering into her ear, he said, "Got to split, no time for a shower either. I'll just spray on some cologne, then I'll be back in a couple of hours, plenty of time to take you to work tonight Just be cool, I'll be back soon with my tool, you dig?"

She said a few words in Japanese, one of their private jokes, and he chuckled as he disengaged himself and got dressed to go out To keep up the charade, he put on a business suit with a two-button front and one vent in back. Of course, he never wore a necktie, but the white turtleneck looked fairly executive-like, the way he wore it, plus his polished, black, pointed-toe shoes.

The pollution index was down, he noticed, as he glanced at the bright sun in the sky; he could hardly notice the thin gray veil of smog as he started the car and headed for the Roppongi section, where Miriam lived.

Again, the blank-faced doorman paid him no attention, as he simply said, "Here to see Miss Henderson," and just stood there, not even bowing, as he entered the lobby.

Minutes later, he was knocking at Miriam's door.

She opened it, said, "Hello, come on in." But, he stood there for a few seconds first, taking things all in, before he did so, giving a low, approving whistle as he entered and locked the door behind him.

Miriam was wearing a Japanese happi coat, with a sash tied around her waist. The coat was red silk, with Japanese characters in black; it was open to the navel, and her glorious breasts were jutting eagerly around the lapels, their nipples looking as if she'd been erotically stimulating them by herself before he arrived. The bottom of the coat was about halfway down her thighs, and the front was sufficiently open so that not only was her luminous amber skin exposed but also her fine sculptured cunt.

But—far-out, really far-out—she'd wrapped a red ribbon around her pubic hairs and tied it there in a bow, as if she was some kind of a Christmas package.

She kept standing there as he sat down on the Danish sofa and took off his shoes, a Japanese habit he'd picked up, which to him made sense: shoes carry dirt; leave the dirt outside. He said, "Is that a gift, or do I get to keep the whole package?"

She laughed, softly, and replied, "You get that as a going-away present. After lunch, not before."

"Depends on what I'm eating for lunch."

She walked over to him, so that her pussy and its red ribbon was directly at his eye level. There was a faintly mocking expression on her face as she said, "Here's a little before-lunch appetizer, then."

So saying, she pried open her pussy, inserted a few fingers, and pulled out ...

What looked like a small, pre-cooked piece of shrimp.

"Far out," Billy said, as she placed the fish against his lips. He sniffed; it smelled as if cooked, and of course her pussy juice gave it an additional pungent flavor and aroma as well.

He opened his mouth, and let her feed him the fish.

She held it by the tail, and he bit down and tasted. It was succulent, freshly cooked; he chewed and swallowed, and she took away the tail and dropped it into an ashtray.

"How about a drink?" he asked.

"Coming right up," she said, and walked into the kitchen.

When she returned, she discovered that he had taken off all of his clothing, and hung everything up in her hall closet. She had brought out the bottle of Bell's Scotch, plus a bottle of Drambuie, and of course glasses and ice. As she placed them on the coffee table, he said, "Rusty Nail, right?"

"I know your number," she said, winking.

She sat down next to him, and poured both of

She sat down next to him, and poured two drinks. As they sipped, she glanced at his Number One; it was starting to get stimulated, getting erect slowly but surely, like a long, slow draw of a revolver from a tight holster.

She reached over, took hold of it, and dipped the tip into her glass. The drink was cold, but he didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle; she pulled the glass away, gulped the liquid down, and, leaning halfway over him, she took hold of his balls and raised his member to her mouth.

He slipped his arm over her shoulders, getting

his hand over her left breast; it was full, as if ready to be milked, and the nipple was good and stiff, as he'd thought.

As he began massaging her boob, she started to lick his dick, her tongue smoothly lapping up the liquid from tie drink she'd doused it in. He could feel her tongue moving, slowly, carefully from tip to base, even licking at his pubic hairs as if trying to uncurl them. As she kept tasting and touching his member with her tongue, he could feel it stiffen even more into erectness, and he knew he wasn't about to wait until after lunch to get some fucking. No, sir; no way.

He sipped his Rusty Nail, enjoying the smoothness of the liqueur added to the Scotch.

When she had licked him clean, he let go of her breast, so that she could straighten up. He said, "When's the food coming?" When she advised him that it had already been cooked, he said, "Bring it out, we'll eat it right here, you dig?'

She nodded, she patted his prick, then got up and headed for the kitchen. When she returned, with some sunomoto soup, Japanese vegetables, and a goodly heaping of tempura, that deep-fried shrimp dish that is really a gourmet delicacy, she noticed he was leaning back on the couch, smoking one of his long, special cigars.

"May I have a puff?" she asked as she sat down beside him again.

As he looked at her, his eyes wandering down her front toward her beribboned pussy, he got an idea.

Taking a few final puffs and blowing out the smoke, he said, "I'm really gonna teach you how to smoke that thing, soul sister. This is the way to do it right."

So saying, he placed it right inside her cunt

Holding the cigar with one hand, he took an ashtray with the other and held it under the cigar. She could feel it right inside her hole, and her muscles began to react to any long, slender object that might be placed there. As her muscles began their typical movements, she smiled, licking her lips, almost laughing as she noticed smoke beginning to puff out from the lighted end of the cigar.

"That's fine, baby, that's the way to smoke this man's cigar," he said, appreciatively.

"That's not quite the kind of cigar I'm used to having in there."

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna leave without putting the real thing in there, you dig? But you do your number first, then 111 do mine, and you and I will get along real fine."

A few inches of ashes dropped into the ashtray as her pussy kept on puffing for a few more minutes.

Then, he removed the cigar, put it out, and passed her a bowl of soup. He sipped his own bowl; it had a delicate, haunting flavor. It was pretty good.

But ... something was missing. ...

"Hey, where are the sounds?" he said. "Last time I was in your pad, you were laying some fine sounds on me. Let's have some music, huh? You know I got to have my brothers wailing in the background before I can really do my number right"

"Sorry," she said.

She got up, and put some records on the stereo. As soon as the needle hit the first groove, Billy almost jumped right off the couch. It was hard, visceral, gutsy Chicago blues, rough and raunchy; and, that could only mean one musical dude in particular.

"Muddy Waters—ain't nobody else can play the blues like that!"

She nodded as she sat down on the sofa again. He'd finished his soup, and was digging into his vegetables with the chopsticks she'd provided. He could handle those 'sticks pretty well by now, and he dumped a hunk of vegetables into her soup, then popped it into his mouth. He followed that motion with another piece of vegetable, this time rubbing it against her pussy lips, then munching it down. He could sure taste the difference; and, as he could easily tell, her pussy was getting just a wee bit damp, too.

He waited, until she had caught up with him, food-wise.

Then, he got hold of a piece of shrimp and, holding it with the chopsticks, rubbed it against her breasts. She shuddered slightly, as he manipulated the shrimp, from the cleft between her breasts, over the right one, nudging her nipple, then rubbing the shrimp all along that breast, and following that up with an exploration of the left one.

As he returned the piece of shrimp to his mouth, he could see that she was really being turned on by his touching her like that.

He ate the shrimp, enjoying the savory flavors he had concocted.

Then, he took the chopsticks, and began to tap them, like drumsticks, across her stomach; and, in time to the raw, raucous blues that Muddy Waters was both playing and singing on the stereo. He noticed her legs twitching, as if she wanted to dance. He looked into her eyes; they seemed glazed, almost opaque, as if she'd been blowing grass.

She wasn't wearing her granny glasses. He guessed she probably couldn't see all that well without them, but she'd still managed to serve him that succulent lunch without spilling anything, or falling on her ass.

He thought: these white chicks worry so much about appearances ... I don't give a good goddam if she's blind ... long as she's got a cunt that dances to my tune ... I can swing with anything. ...

Then, he got himself a good idea.

That backbeat was coming down so hard, why not do a little dancing? Not exactly cheek-to-cheek; more like cock-to-cunt.

He mixed a Rusty Nail for her, and held it to her lips. She took it, and knocked it off in one, long swallow, her Adams apple bobbing up and down like a cork in the water. He poured himself about half-an-inch worth of the stuff, gulping it down.

Then, taking hold of her left tit—his hand covering her fleshy breast, his palm pressing hard against her erect nipple—he half-pulled, half-persuaded her to get on her feet.

"Miriam, we gonna do us a hootchy-kootchy kind of dance, you dig?"

"Far ... out . . she mumbled, starting to sway, her juicy buttocks beginning to swivel, very sexily, in time to the music.

Soon, within seconds, her breasts were bouncing around, her hair swinging as she began to really do some real soulful twisting and turning, her ass shaking like two cantaloupe halves on a shelf. Her body vibrated like a question mark, and he could see that her clitoris and her nipples were keeping their erect

posture, while he also noticed that some drops of pussy juice were dripping from her hairy centerpiece.

Billy was no slouch when it came to getting it on, dancing-wise, so he began to move his feet, going into some intricate steps that were making Miriam move right along with him—and, with that driving Chicago blues beat, too. He moved in close, his Number One riding high and handsome, almost fully erect. He rubbed it against her clit, and she twisted like a worm on a hook, her nervous system feeling those electric sexual vibrations roaring through her as if she was touching a live electrical circuit.

He could almost smell her pussy juice, almost see the incredible churning of her cunt as he caressed her with his cock. She moved in close, getting her hands around his neck, pulling him into her so that her pendulous breasts were rubbing hard against his hairy chest. Still moving and grooving, so swiftly and so rhythmically, they almost knocked over a lamp here, the coffee table there.

"Billy ... get in me ... I want you ... inside . . "

"Coming right up, sister."

He dropped his member, and began to rub it against her damp cunt lips. She moved her mouth against his, and her lips pressed hard against his own. Her tongue began to do some talking, and as she tried to French him, he bit her tongue, not hard, but with sufficient strength to show her who was still in charge.

Then, he bit her upper and lower lips a couple of times, before supping his own tongue inside her hot, tempestuous mouth, running it along her sucking, moist membranes and tangling with her own tongue. At the same time, he jabbed his cock into

her cunt—it slipped in like a kid going down a slide, so lubricated was her pussy by now—so that both his prick and his tongue were fucking her, simultaneously. It really turned her on.

She humped her haunches hard against him, still swinging and swaying to the music. Her hands began to move up and down his spine, her fingernails beating out mad melodies against his back. Listening very carefully to Muddy s music, he began to pump her, his prick stabbing and swinging in perfect time with the driving blues beat.

Moaning, her throat mumbling undecipherable things, their mouths and crotches still pressed hard against each other, she started going into orgasm. He could feel her membranes grinding away at Number One, her juices waterfalling down. He jabbed her a few good feints, and felt as if she was almost standing on his toes, trying to thrust herself against him even more than he was thrusting himself into her.

It seemed to him that her palpitating pussy was even more hyperactive than usual, the way those muscles were shaking up his prick. He guessed all the shit he'd laid down on her today, the combination of food and booze and music and all sorts of far-out touching games, had really turned her on. And, he was going to fuck her standing up; that is, while standing, and dancing.

He could feel her impatience like some palpable tiling taking form. Oh yeah, she wanted his big black cock to come right now, she wanted instant gratification. Fuck that shit; you sometimes have to wait for the good things to happen, and he'd really make her sweat, really make her wait just a little

longer than he'd originally planned, this time. Just to show her who's boss, if for no other reason.

Yet, the way his balls were practically screaming in his ears, the way his cock was curved inside her cunt ... he couldn't hold out much longer.

But, he knew when to really sock it to her.

She was finishing one orgasm now, her entire body vibrating with weariness, almost with frustration, as her every fiber and nerve ending urged him to let her have what her sensuous temperament was screaming for.

It was the right moment; hit her hard, and make her really work to get going again.

He came.

Like an uppercut, he really thrust himself into her, aiming high, feeling his sperm spiraling out in those sharp, short bursts that, one after the other, really make the chicks move. She almost swallowed his tongue as she responded in kind, hurrying up to get herself into another orgasm. He could feel her really working out, really getting back together again with him. Her cunt clutched his cock as if never wanting to let it go.

And, then, her muscles began to do some really fascinating things, things he'd never experienced with her before. She threw some tricks at him that, as he kept on coming, began to puzzle him, to make him wonder whether there was really something else behind her white-liberal-niggerloving facade.

Yes, he wondered.

As he thought: shades of Stokely Carmichael . • • she's really fucking black today... •