Chapter 7
Fred tried to make himself look inconspicuous as he stood in the lobby of the huge hotel. He looked at his watch, muttering to himself.
"Damn" he said, seeing that it was already Fifteen minutes past two, "where the hell is she!"
He stared at each cab that pulled up by the curb in front of the hotel.
Finally, Mona's tall, sinuous form emerged from a cab. She dashed up to him, smiling broadly.
"Hi, honey!" she called out. "Sorry I'm late!"
Fred stared silently at her for a moment, transfixed by her appearance. He hadn't thought about what she would be wearing for their lunch date. He gaped at her as if he was a teenager. She was wearing a short, yellow dress, the pale yellow color contrasting beautifully with her chocolate brown skin. The hem of the dress's skirt revealed more than half the supple, sensuous flesh of her thighs. The top clung to her torso, revealing beautifully the outline of her large, round breasts.
"Hey, you look great!" said Fred, fighting to compose himself. He didn't want to appear awkward in front of her.
"And you look like the most proper young exec," she smiled.
"Shall we be off," said Fred, making his voice tone sound somber and serious.
"Let's," said Mona, a lilt in her high pitched voice.
Fred called a cab. They jumped in. Fred muttered some instructions to the driver and the yellow taxi sped off.
"Oh, wow, you have a little class," said Mona with a laugh, seeing the ultra-imagine restaurant that Fred was taking her to.
Fred turned to her and grinned. "A little," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. Mona giggled and took his arm as they walked into the restaurant.
They sat down at a small table in a quiet, darkened corner. Fred ordered cocktails from a grisly-looking waiter.
"So. How was your night," said Mona, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes flashed seductively as she spoke.
"Quiet and peaceful. Not like yours, I would imagine," said Fred with a huge grin.
"So what do you think my night was like," asked Mona chidingly.
"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. Sex, drugs, the usual." Fred dropped his gaze to the swell of her large, round breasts as he spoke.
"Right," said Mona with a giggle.
Fred looked at her abashed. He had tried to imagine what the life of a prostitute would be like, but found himself unable to separate what he had read of them in pornographic novels he'd bought as a teenager.
"Who is Mr. Styles," Fred asked, knowing the answer and hoping Mona wouldn't say it.
"Well, he's sort of like the president for whom you're the vice president," said Mona casually. She knew that if they were to have an affair, some things would have to be cleared up first. She felt a bit nervous, but decided to tell Fred exactly what her life was like. She drummed her slender Fingers on the hard formica surface of the table and waited for Fred's reply.
"You mean your boss? but a prostitute's boss is called-"
"A pimp," Mona interrupted.
Fred jerked his head up and stared into her dark eyes. Mona watched his face as he composed his next statement.
"I've heard a lot of horrible stories-" he began, his voice low. He dropped his gaze to the table as he spoke.
"That was the old days," Mona interrupted Firmly. "Back in the early part of this century, and even up till the fifties, pimps were like slave masters. Today they're more like your boss at work-they have a product to sell, and people who produce the product for them. I produce."
Fred's facial expression changed rapidly. A smile spread across his handsome, fair skinned face.
"I'd thought, or I was hoping I could think, that that was the case," he said gently.
Mona leaned back in her chair, sliding her buttocks forward. She brushed the side of her bare ankle against Fred's leg.
Fred felt a shiver of passion shoot through him at the feel of her skin against his leg. He coughed, and excused himself.
"Got him going," thought Mona excitedly.
The waiter brought them their drinks, bending low over the table as he placed the tall, frosted glasses neatly down in front of them. He straightened up stiffly, and strode off.
Fred took a long sip at his drink. The alcohol ran down his throat, warming him with a sensual hotness that he felt in the pit of his stomach. He had firmly told himself that he was not going to 'funch', the office worker's term for a fuck at lunchtime, with her. But he felt an all-too-familiar sensation in his groin as he stared at the beautiful black woman seated in front of him.
"Do you sleep with Styles," said Fred, taking another long sip at his drink.
"Sure," said Mona coyly, raising her glass to her lips. She ran the soft, pink, meaty tip of her tongue slowly around the rim of the glass. Fred followed the movements of her tongue with his eyes.
"Oh, uh, that's part of the deal, right?"
"Well, honey, pimps always sleep with their whores. That part of the business hasn't changed at all." Mona smiled kindly as she spoke.
"What would he say if you slept out? I mean, not professionally."
"Honey, I always sleep professionally," laughed Mona, hoping to divert his line of questioning. She could see that her references to her relations with Styles was making the man uneasy.
A sharp stab of lust shot through Fred's body. He decided to drop the subject, and found himself peering at his watch.
"You in a hurry, or something," said Mona, tapping the toe of Fred's shoe with her foot.
"Huh? oh, no," said Fred with a laugh. "One of the benefits of being an exec is that no body's going to yell at me for goofing off."
"Yelling at is your job, right," smiled Mona, pressing her foot hard into Fred's shoe.
"Yeah, I'm afraid so," said Fred ruefully. "Try not to do too much of it though."
They ordered their lunch and ate silently, occasionally casting glances into each other's eyes. Fred felt his lusts growing by leaps and bounds. He tried to keep his mind off sex, to fight back the steadily growing bulge rising out of the fabric of the crotch of his slacks. But Mona's lush voice and clearly outlined features made this impossible.
"OH, that was GOOD!" said Mona enthusiastically, wiping her lush, red lips with a cloth napkin.
Fred dropped his fork to his empty plate, startled by the clanking noise it made as it hit the dirtied enameled surface, leaned back, and patted his firm stomach.
"Quite a meal, I agree," he said with false somberness. Mona giggled at his assumed voice.
"So why don't we go off somewhere," she said with a coy smile.
"No, lets not," thought Fred, a sinking sensation in his stomach accompanying his rising feelings of lust.
"Sure," he heard himself answer. "Where would you like to go?"
"Visit my private apartment," said Mona, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a fat string of keys.
"But don't you live with Styles?"
"Yes, I have a room there, that I sleep in a lot. But I also have my own place." Mona decided not to mention that the apartment was one Styles had set up for her to entertain certain of his clients. She wanted to keep their conversation as far from possible from what she did for her living.
They stood up and stepped away from the table. Mona stepped close to Fred as he turned to leave, accidentally on purpose brushing her hand over the bulge growing out of the crotch of his slacks.
Fred inhaled sharply at the touch on his rapidly erecting, cloth covered prick. His lust rose like an erupting volcano, and he fought to keep himself from trembling. He paid quickly, and walked out, his arm in Mona's.
Randy Waite fretted and fumed.
"Goddammit," he muttered, turning to his wife Julie who was sitting next to him in the back seat of the taxi.
"Honey, you know that midtown traffic is going to be murder at this time of day, so just cool yourself off."
Randy said nothing. He drummed his fingers on the vinyl car seat and stared out the cab's front window.
Julie turned her head and peered out the side window of the cab.
"Hey," she said, tugging at Randy's sleeve. "Isn't that Fred Gold?" She gestured to a tall, suited figure walking with his arm locked in that of a beautiful black woman's. Randy twisted his head around and stared at the direction in which Julie was pointing.
"Yeah, that's Fred, all right." he said, squinting.
"What do you suppose he's doing with that woman?" Julie's voice held a note of grim suspicion as she spoke.
"Either he got himself a nigger," said Randy with a broad grin, "Or else he's entertaining an important client.
"The latter does seem more probable," said
Julie with a hint of skepticism in her voice.
The cab moved forward with a lurch. Randy leaned back in his seat and took a good, long look at Fred and the woman he was with.
"Damn," he said to himself. "That is one hell of a woman. She looks good-too good, I'd say."
"Well, we're under way at last," Julie giggled. Her comment jerked his attention away from Fred and the black woman.
The cab slowly turned a corner. Julie stared intently at a woman who was struggling with an immense dog on a long leash. Randy looked out the opposite window and saw Fred and the black woman entering a large, imagine-looking apartment building.
"Now that doesn't look like a business deal to me," thought Randy, staring up at the huge, modern building.
"No shit!" He leaned forward and stared, amazed out the window. Fred had curled his arm tightly around the woman's waist as they walked through the building's big glass doors.
"Looks like Claire's going to be lonesome," he thought lustily.
He promised himself to arrange a visit with Fred's wife as soon as possible.
Melody leaned back against the fur-covered couch and lazily lit a marijuana cigarette. She stretched out her long, slender legs and filled her lungs with the sweet tasting smoke.
She heard a soft click, the sound of the front door to the huge apartment being opened with a key. She expelled a huge cloud of the thick, white smoke and smiled grimly.
"Here comes the man," she thought. Her cunt lips began to swell at the thought of Styles' naked form crouched over her. She especially looked forward to having sex with the man today, because of the tale she had to tell him.
"Styles, honey," she thought, the grim smile spreading across her tan-skinned, angular features, "Have I got a sad story for you!" Her head around to see the tall, light-skinned figure of the pimp standing over the couch.
"Hi, daddy," she cooed, staring up at him with lust-filled eyes.
She leaned over and casually extinguished the joint. Styles looked around the empty apartment.
"Mona around?" he asked absently. Melody coughed.
"Shit," she thought, "He's always asking after his chocolate doll. Guess I'm only second best, all the way around. Maybe his mind'll change after I talk to him a little. But I'd better take care of business first.
"Something's up," said Styles to himself, scrutinizing Melody's face. He could never point out exactly, but he could always tell when something was wrong with one of his women. He had learned to read people's faces and gestures quite early in life. A part of survival in the kind of childhood he'd had was knowing when he was going to get hit, and by whom.
He stared speculatively down at Melody's robe-covered frame. A shot of lust shot through his loins.
"Honey, I need a bath," he said, pulling off his suit jacket and tossing the garment down on the couch.
"I'll run it for you," said Melody, jumping up off the couch. She dashed into the lavish bathroom and threw off her robe. Naked, she knelt down by the. enormous bathtub and turned the faucets on full.
Styles walked into the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing an oriental-looking bathrobe. A red, fierce-looking dragon had been embroidered on the back of the black cotton garment. Two large Japanese characters were embroidered on either side of the jacket's lapels.
Melody turned and plunked her bare ass down on the side of the tub.
"Is that new," she said, staring at the unusual bathrobe.
"Yeah, got it this morning," grunted Styles. Melody got up and pulled the robe off his shoulders. He was naked underneath, and fully erect. His eleven-inch prick stood straight out from his wiry-haired crotch, the head swollen.
"Friend of mine says it's a Japanese fireman's robe," Styles said, stepping into the steaming-hot tub.
Melody picked up a bar of soap. She dipped the lemon-scented soap into the steaming bathwater, and rubbed the soap into her light-skinned palms.
Styles turned his back to her. Melody rubbed the soap into his broad, powerful back, working her hands in slow circles. She bent down, rubbing the soap into the small of Styles' back, then pressed her sensuous fingers tightly against the taut skin of his buttocks. Styles stiffened his back and gasped.
"Damn! your hands feel good today, girl," he said.
Melody purred seductively, rubbing the soap in large, circular white swirls against the dark skin of the pimp's ass. She slid her hands around and began rubbing the soap into his stomach. Styles' body trembled with lust.
"Hows 'bout a little coke for us," he said hoarsely.
Melody ran her soapy fingers over the taut shaft of his erect cock and quickly darted away from his tall, heavy set frame.
"Oh, please, daddy," she said coyly. She put the bar of soap down on the side of the tub. She stepped away from the tub as Styles carefully lowered his buttocks into the hot water.
"I'll get it," she said shrilly, pulling on her silk bathrobe.
She dashed out of the bathroom and into Styles' bedroom. She pulled open a dresser drawer, and pulled out a glassine envelope filled with white powder. Her eyes fell on several fat marijuana cigarettes lying on the bottom of the drawer.
She stuck her head out of the bedroom's doorway.
"Styles, honey, can we smoke one of these?"
Styles turned around in the tub. "Yeah, bring two in," he grunted.
Melody dashed back into the bathroom, carrying the mirror, cocaine and two of the large cigarettes. She placed the mirror carefully down on the side of the tub.
"Watch you don't splash everything, daddy," she cooed, her voice a soft, seductive purr.
"Girl, if I don't know what I'm doing, you wouldn't be here," said Styles with a laugh.
He drew one of his long, heavy arms out of the bathwater and carefully shook the excess water off his hand. Melody dashed over to a towel rack and brought over a small hand towel. She wiped Styles' hand dry, then tossed the towel into an open laundry hamper.
Styles measured a small amount of the white powder onto the mirror. He looked up at Melody quizzically.
Melody clamped her hand over her mouth and giggled. "I'm sorry," she said wistfully, I forgot the razor."
She leaped up and walked over to the medicine cabinet. She unwrapped a razor blade and laid it carefully on the mirror. Styles looked up at her and smiled.
The pimp drew himself into a crouching position, his knees pressing against the slippery, wet wall of the tub. As he carefully divided the pile of white powder into lines, Melody thrust her hand under the bathwater and seized his gigantic, erect penis.
"Easy baby," he muttered, "You're going to cause an accident."
Melody squeezed his prick hard and darted her hand away from his crotch.
Styles snorted two lines of the cocaine into his nostrils with a slender tube that Melody had brought. He handed the mirror and tube to her, and she quickly snorted the white powder.
The drug hit her like a flash fire, driving her lusts up to the boiling point. Styles lifted a soapy, wet hand out of the bathwater and began running his powerful fingers along the smooth, supple surface of Melody's sensuous thighs.
"Oh, daddy, your fingers feel so good," Melody purred, moving her lithe, naked form in a snake-like motion.
Styles slid his buttocks along the wet, enameled surface of the tub and leaned against a wet wall. He spread his legs wide apart, the head of his stiff dick popping up above the surface of the water.
Melody slinked into the tub. She planted her bare feet firmly on either side of Styles' outspread legs, and slowly lowered her naked buttocks to the gray, soapy surface of the bathwater.
Styles reached up and firmly grasped her lean, graceful sides. He pulled her twat down to the head of his erect prick. Melody leaned forward, planting her hands on his bare, wet shoulders and lowered the swollen lips of her cunt down onto his erect prick.
Styles tugged firmly at her nude form and Melody pressed her quivering cunthole to the head of his prick. Styles jerked his buttocks upwards as Melody slid her twat down onto his stiff dick.
"Oh, it feels so great," she squealed, wriggling her naked hips.
Styles' prick slid deep into her cunt. She pressed her bare buttocks to the firm, rough skin of his thighs and leaned forward, ramming her naked boobs into the muscled plane of the pimp's torso.
Styles wrapped his arms tightly around her light-tan skinned form and clamped his mouth over her lush, thick lips. Melody parted her teeth. Styles shoved his tongue into the hot, horny wetness of the black whore's mouth. Styles closed his lips tightly over her invading tongue, and began to suck at the wet, hot, meaty flesh.
Melody began to grind her hips in a slow, circular motion, feeling the swollen head of Styles' erect prick slamming into the back wall of her cunt. The feel of her nipples pressing against his chest sent electrical flashes of passion through her tan-skinned frame.
"Oh, you're good," grunted Styles. She cooed softly as he ran his hands down the graceful curves of her back, rubbing her bare buttocks hard against his wet, soapy thighs.
She felt his penis begin to jerk violently inside her, then felt the familiar sensation of hot gobs of come splashing against the walls of her well-trained pussy. Styles panted hard, lifting her up and down on his prick as he climaxed.
Feeling the contractions of his ejaculating prick subside, Melody jerked her naked twat away from the pimp's crotch and stood up in the tub.
Styles leaned back his head, sliding forward and seizing her hips. The back of his head pressed into the wet, slippery side of the bathtub. Melody lowered her naked twat towards his face. She bent over, her naked, cone-shaped, tan skinned breasts hanging over the edge of the bathtub, and planted the light-skinned palms of her hands firmly on the tiled bathroom floor.
Styles raised his head and planted his mouth over the swelling, juicing meat of her pink cunt lips. He sucked the wrinkled flesh hungrily into his horny, black mouth, his fingers digging deep into the supple skin of Melody's hips.
Melody pressed her crotch tightly against his probing, cunt eating mouth. He rammed his tongue deep into her quivering, come-wet cunthole, pressing the tip of the soft meaty flesh against her throbbing vaginal walls. He jerked up his mouth and planted his lips over the wrinkled folds of female private flesh just below Melody's pelt of wiry black pussy hairs. She groaned, her body writhing, as his well-practiced tongue pushed aside the protective flap of skin covering her tiny clit.
"Eat me, DADDY!" Melody cried out, the drug adding greatly to her almost unbearable feelings of orgiastic pleasure.
Styles rubbed his lips over her hardened love-bud. He reached up and slid two fingers into her quivering cunthole, extended a third finger and shoved the impassioned finger into the tender flesh of her anus.
He felt the walls of her cunt contract and begin to suck at his probing, cunt filled mouth. Her ass-hole tightened around his finger in a crushing, vise-like grip. Melody's body shuddered. She leaned back her head, opened her mouth wide, and let out a long, low wail of animal passion.
Styles jerked his fingers away from her cunt and ass holes and grasped her sides, pulling her cunt away from his come-wet mouth. She staggered back, then stepped quickly out of the tub.
"Oh, daddy, that was magnificent," she murmured, rubbing herself down with a thick bath towel.
Styles rose slowly out of the tub, the soapy water running off his light-brown, heavy set frame.
Melody draped the towel around him and began to rub his trembling body vigorously. She pressed the terry cloth material of the towel to his firm, round buttocks, then quickly jerked her hands around and clutched the towel tightly to the thick, hard shaft of his still-erect penis.
Styles bent down and picked up the cocaine, mirror and cigarettes that Melody had brought into the bathroom. He handed the drugs to the young, tan-skinned whore.
"Let's go into my room," he said hoarsely. His prick quivered, and Melody could see that he was far from through with her.
"Don't forget your robe," he called out. Melody was just about to dash out of the bathroom.
She cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled shrilly. "Sorry I forgot," she said wistfully, "but you made me so horny-"
"I'll take care of that good," said Styles with a grin. Melody drew the robe over her bare shoulders. Styles quickly pulled on the Japanese fireman's robe and followed her as she walked out of the bathroom.
Melody threw herself down on Styles' enormous, round bed. She pressed her shoulder blades into the satin covering, arching her back so that her breasts thrust forward from the tan-skinned, supple plane of her torso.
Styles walked over to the dresser and picked up one of the fat marijuana cigarettes. He put the joint to his lips slowly, his eyes fixed on the naked woman lying on his bed.
Melody watched with hungry eyes as he put a lighted match to the end of the joint. His cock head swelled large as he drew the sweet smoke into his lungs. He sat down at the edge of the bed and handed the joint to Melody.
Melody took a long, deep toke and handed the cigarette back to Styles. He turned, so that he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Melody handed the joint back to him.
He put the cigarette to his lips and stared down with glazed eyes as Melody slid around and pointed her pretty head to his naked crotch. She seized the thick shaft of his erect cock between her thumb and forefinger, then bent her head forward.
A tiny drop of semen appeared from the small slit in the tip of the cock head. Melody darted out her tongue and licked off the tiny drop of come. She pressed her lush, thick lips to the swollen cock head, and bit down gently.
Styles groaned softly, leaning back and propping himself up by planting the palms of his hands on the soft, satin sheet.
Melody slid her mouth down the length of the thick shat of his cock. Styles took a long, deep toke of the fat joint. He tapped Melody on her shoulder as he expelled the thick, white smoke from his nostrils.
Melody jerked her face away from his crotch, his hardened penis shaft banging against her lower lip as the thick member slid out of her mouth. She took the joint from him and filled her lungs with the sweet tasting smoke.
Handing the joint back to Styles, she pressed her face to the head of his erect cock, planting a hard kiss on the swollen, sensitive, male flesh. She slid her mouth back down the hardened shaft, blowing a huge cloud of smoke into the bush of wiry black hairs surrounding the base of the shaft of Styles' prick.
Styles watched lazily as the smoke billowed around his light-skinned stomach. Melody began to suck hard at the taut, male flesh of his cock. Styles leaned over, nearly jerking her mouth off his prick as he extinguished the joint in a nearby ashtray. He leaned back again, and closed his eyes, feeling semen rush into the shaft of his prick.
Mona felt his prick begin to jerk violently, thrusting its swollen head against the roof of her mouth. She pressed her lips tightly over the taut, male flesh, then felt gobs of hot semen come spurting into the hot, horny wetness of her mouth.
"Oh, okay, baby," he grunted. Melody jerked her face out of his crotch and leaned back, gulping as she swallowed his sweet-tasting come.
"Make daddy happy?" she cooed, planting her bare buttocks on the carpeted floor of the pimp's bedroom.
"Now," thought Styles, sitting up and gazing at her naked form.
"Come sit up here on the bed with me," he said softly.
Melody climbed up on the bed and planted her cute little ass into the softness of the satin sheets.
"Now tell me what's wrong," said Styles, staring straight into Melody's eyes.
"Damn!" thought Melody, studying the look on the pimp's face. "Bet he's all but figured it out already. Better play this one careful, real careful. Make believe that I don't want to open up."
"What do you mean, 'wrong', " she said, dropping her gaze to the surface of the bed.
"Come on now, honey," said Styles, his tone soft but firm."I know when something's not right with my women."
Melody said nothing. She kept her gaze fixed on the blue satin sheet.
She ran her fingers along the sheet, placing her hands gently on Styles' hard, muscular thigh.
"There is something going on around here," said Styles. "It is very important for me to know what it is.
Melody almost blurted out the whole story, but kept her mouth shut.
"Better let him work it out of me," she thought, running her fingers along Styles' thigh. "If I don't play this right, I'll be in the doghouse for what his number one's been up to."
"I have to know," said Styles firmly.
"I, I don't want to say anything about my friends here," said Melody. She gently shoved her fingers into the pimp's crotch.
The word 'friends' made Styles' ears perk up. He brushed her caressing hand away from his crotch.
"It's got to be Mona," he thought.
Melody let her hand rest on the sheet, inches from his bare thigh.
"Have I ever told you the story of Maryanne?" Melody lifted her eyes to Styles' face as he spoke.
"No daddy," she said guiltily, dropping her gaze to his semi-erect prick. Styles reached over and fished the half-smoked joint out of the ashtray. He lit the burnt end and took a deep drag, handing the cigarette to Melody.
"Maryanne was one of my best women ever," Styles continued, his tone somber and pedagogic. "She started to hate the Johns. She hated them so much she used to piss on their faces. I started losing regular, high paying clients right and left. And none of the other girls wanted to inform on her. If the matter had continued, the whole stable would be right down there in the streets." He gestured towards the window as he spoke.
"The point I'm trying to make," he continued, "Is that it's not a matter of informing-certain information is vital to the group as a whole. Now tell me all you know of what's been going on.
"Now," thought Melody.
She looked straight into Styles' eyes as she spoke.
"Mona's stepping out on you," she said, her high pitched voice a low mumble as she spoke.
Styles stared silently at her for a second, reading her face and eyes to see that she wasn't lying. He decided she wasn't.
"Now I want you to tell me everything you know. Everything."
Melody took a deep drag on the joint and told Styles about the phone call she'd overheard earlier that afternoon.