Chapter 6
Black ass eased lower in the office chair into a position that was not that comfortable. Buckminster Black was fresh out of trouble.
Minding his own business. Alone in his office space down the hall from Donovan's suite. Feeling his blackmeat respond to unseen whitemeat.
Clicking of heels arrested his senses.
Buckminster burned in his loins.
His bull shit crinkled up into his belly.
Legs turned to jelly. Asshole hopped. Prick popped.
When Morrigana walked in.
Buckminster's memory recalled the dimestore slime with which their lives had been from time to time entwined. Morrigana Lafayette was, sure as day-and these days he was never very surewalking toward him now-again.
Memories of rows of rings jingling from the lining of her labia. Hooks and clips strung by silver chains from her clit to her nippletips.
Asshole limber and rimmed in rubber.
Tits done up in rouge and black lace.
Never could forget that face.
Nor those stiletto heels and legs so long they stretched from hell to paradise.
"So, Buckminster." She sucked down a long drag from her foot-long black-pearl cigarette holder. "You figure this is your kind of place? Kind of nice-for your kind of guy."
"Aren't you supposed to be working on a gig with Shiv?" Buckminster glared.
"Special assignment. Just so happens I'm in the market for a black dick. Kind of inevitable I'd come your way. Don't you think?"
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"If I can buy you."
Buckminster reached inside the deskside refrigerator and pulled out chilled tequila. Tried to ignore what was rushing through his mind.
Morrigana could buy or sell anyone else in the world who had a taste for sadomasochism, silver threads and golden needles, fistruckery, bootlic-kerish skullduggery, tequila and peyote enemas, rumproast on brochette, as well as the innocent diversions of plain old-fashioned fuck-and-suck.
With women and men.
The complete modern whitegal.
A woman for all seasons.
And all kinds of sessions.
Plus, she gave lessons.
Self-defense.
Strangulation, assassination techniques, sexual martial artistry.
Buckminster was a black belt.
He could still feel,the welts.
"Look, pussycat. We're running a business here. We aren't in the market for any of your sadomasochistic games right now."
"Oh, this is most certainly a business proposition. Not a game."
Morrigana took out a sheaf of fax-copied photos. "You know these dames?"
"Cassandra, Danielle, Roxanne, Belladonna. How could I forget? Clients of mine. Of Donovan's actually at this point. What's your interest?"
"They recommended you. To another floozy whose in hiding because she has the misfortune to be married to L.L. Jebal Hood."
"Cassandra must have told her to check it out through you. Comes to your workouts?"
"She did this morning. Says she needs protection. Said I'd set her up an interview with you. Get you out of this rat trap office, away from the law books."
"You said yourself this place was swell."
"So is hell."
"This is my territory," Buckminster said. "Then fight for it."
Morrigana's face moved in tight until their lips touched lightly.
"Gotten stronger, Buckminster. Now that you've been on your own."
"Stronger without you."
Morrigana lifted one boot-sheathed leg. She stabbed the stiletto heel into the vulnerable bony part of Buckminster's foot, just behind his toes.
Pinning his foot to the floor through the thin canvas of his deck shoe.
His ass-hole twitched.
Bull shit clinked.
Cock slinked up to his belt buckle. Semen jumping within like fish.
"Getting pissed?" she said.
He went fuck-blind for an instant. And then recovered his mind.
"About that last kiss, Morrigana? How often do you make them that way?"
Morrigana smiled thinly.
Her cynical white girl grin.
"Read my cunt lips," she said. "You are now going my way."
Blushing breastmeat tingled against the lowcut silkiness of her dress. She crossed her knees and the slit up the side of her black gown parted to the edges of her rump.
"The way I see it-uh-Mrs. Hood," he said, standing before her in the wide white room, jiggling the icy liquid in the tall, nearly empty glass, "is that the problem is-you've got no problem."
She shifted her position on the long lounge chair that looked modeled on the order of a plush stretch limousine.
"That would be a problem," she said as though it were no concern at all to her.
She saw the dark man jiggle his balls. Looked straight at his face, her eyelids at halfmast. Her peripheral vision took in the movement of his growing hard-on.
He watched her eyes through the purple haze as she blew smoke out through her nostrils. Her ass twitched and she uncoiled herself from her seat.
He made a mental note that the slit in the skirt of her dress went up way past where one might expect to see the leg bands of a pair of panties.
"You see the problem," he said. "If you want us to place someone in deep cover, we have to show an ostensible reason for our operative to be there."
"A cover story, more or less," she said.
"Exactly-which of course wouldn't be necessary if we were operating with full cooperation of all principal parties."
He saw her conceal the change in her facial expression by biting into her lower lip and producing a slight smile that, under the circumstances, must have been painful.
Her body touched his at the hip and she poured another round of drinks.
"Make this one a double," she said, topping off his highball glass with a dollop of foam.
His eyes caught hers. There was a flicker-a spark-between them.
He jerked his eyes away. Her gaze held an instant longer.
Then the spasm of a tight smile spread across her lips and died at the ends.
"These are the longest drinks I've ever had," he said admiringly, absently.
This setup was no harder than many others he had weathered.
But he was wise then.
Something about the way this babe was carrying on made him feel stupid.
He shifted his position, angling his partially erect cock down the left side of his pants.
"Incidentally," she said, swaying across the room like a charmed snake, "I don't use my husband's surname. I am still Miss Mania to the press and I would be pleased to be Mercedes to you-Mr. Buckminster?"
"Buckminster's the name," he said, sucking on a chip of crushed ice as he ran his eyes up the split in her dress. "Buckminster Black."
"Oh, won't you pardon me? I just knew you as Buckminster Consultants-I think that's what Cassandra said-I assumed Buckminster was-"
"People do call me Buck."
"Well, Buck-"
"But I like Buckminster."
"So, Buckminster," she said without losing a beat. "We need a problem, do we? A reason for existence, an existential dilemma, as it were-considering this affair of my husband's."
"Suspected affair."
"I was counting on you to come up with that angle."
"You're the one who's hiring."
"But you can and do supply the problems. When it is necessary, of course."
"I can and do." He smiled. "But I might need a little more to go on in this case."
"Let me finish this smoke and I'll tell you."
"Salud," he said.
She turned away as he hoisted his glass and drank down the amber fluid.
They were both silent, looking out the French doors, past the penthouse garden, witnessing the sun's decline through the forest of prick-like spires of the oceanfront skyline. Buckminster lit both their new cigarettes, then began to cough as he engulfed smoke on top a mouthful of crisp alcoholic fumes.
"Careful," she said.
Mercedes lifted her arm. Brought a lightly clenched fist down on the back of his jacket. His jangling drink sent sprays of liquid down his shirt, across his crotch.
"I'm okay," he heaved.
Mercedes hit him repeatedly on the back and shoulders as he cleared his lungs of the smoke and stopped gagging. She glanced at the front of his pants. Cock filled with the blood of erection.
Mercedes could tell he was circumcised by reading the impression of his prick against the wet material of his pants. Her own mouth went dry in anticipation of black cocksuck.
"Get these wet clothes off you," she mumbled.
"If you can't come up with a problem," he said, "Let's brainstorm now."
She stood behind him. Seized his suitjacket by the lapels and brought it off down his arms.
"You have no evidence I take it?" he yakked. Mercedes unbuttoned the front of his shirt, moving her hands through his armpits. "Oh, but I do," she blew.
She yanked the shirttails out and whipped the fabric from him. It snagged, and she wrenched the collar through the loosened noose of his tie.
"Strictly speaking," he jawed, "no evidence to speak of is what you've got."
Mercedes slid down his legs to the floor. She ran her fingers along the insides of his thighs as she sank to a heap.
"So that is why you have got to define what the problem is," Buckminster gargled, emptying his glass.
She brought her lips to the sides of his moccasins and sniffed.
Mercedes smooched. Then she gave a tiny lap to the leather and slid the shoes from his sockless feet and bit one of his toes.
"We can't go in looking," he slurped ice, "for nothing in particular-that means we have to look for everything, and that would be impossible."
Mercedes reached upward through his slightly spread legs. She unbuckled his belt, pressing her forearms into the growing cockmeat beneath.
"We're much better off with a focus," he belched. "Hit me with one."
"I never see him," she said as if reading it.
"That's a start."
"He sleeps days, I think."
"Okay. He's in the nightclub business, has a string of casinos among his many other high-profile enterprises."
She unbuttoned the waist of his trousers. Then stripped them down his legs.
"Let me see," he mused. "Did he move out on you? If so, there may be a case for abandonment."
"We never lived together. I don't remember if we even spent an entire night together-ever."
Mercedes slid her fingernails into the top of his bikini underpants. She began to peel the material away from his skin.
"Hey, Mercedes. Have mercy on me."
"Don't you want me to take your underpants down?"
"Why?"
"To take out your cock."
"Pants down. Cock."
Mercedes heaved her breasts. The nipples were hard against her bodice.
His mahogany prick stuck out, slightly bent within the confines of his underpants. The ruddy tip of the cockhead peeked over the waistband.
"You do have a hard-on," she said.
"So I do," he said.
"You want me? Or were you fantasizing about someone else?"
"Just a physical reaction."
"If you want someone else, Buckminster-I can be whoever she is. I am an actress, after all."
"It's not that, Mercedes. This kind of jazz can really throw a wrench into our operation." He fingered the loosened necktie that hung down the center of his bare chest.
"As you well know. Since you've obviously done it many times in the past," she said.
"Maybe so. As you like it."
"I like it bare. Hard. Full of the good stuff. Hot and juicy."
"No shame."
"Shameless."
"Got it."
"So take your pants off," she sighed. "Show me your cock. I want to suck it."
"Who's closest to him?"
She wrapped her arms about his legs. Pressed her full black hair into his ass-cheeks. "Hmm?"
"Who's closest to L.L. Jebal."
"Who is what?"
She nestled his fanny with her head. Rubbed her long hair against the backs of his thighs.
"Your husband," he said tightly. "L.L. Jebal Hood. Ever heard of him?"
"Seems like maybe not," Mercedes said.
Buckminster felt the sneer in her voice. It cut into him like a jagged razor, even though it was no he who was the object of her disgust.
He twitched his coffee-colored sphincter. His mahogany ass-cheeks tightened and his darkly hued dickmeat jumped.
"What about the bleach-blonde bombshell you think he's shacking with now?" he said.
"That whore?" Mercedes said.
She slipped her fingers into his underpants again, this time from the bottom. Before he could flinch, she whisked them to his knees.
"Anne Marie may well seem a doxie to you, Miss Mercedes-"
"But she's one of the most honored opera singers in the world-is that what you were going to tell me, Buck? And I'm just a third-rate cult sex object on a cable horror series."
She slid away from him over the cool stone flooring. With a toss of the head, she focused her eyes on his dark hard-on.
The purple-black pecker pumped in his loins.
Head looking straight out at her. Red-purple black-brown carapace like a helmet.
Cat-like grin from the panther-like prowler when sighted head-on.
The curved stalk of dusky penis bounced up and down as his pulse pumped blood.
"That's the reason he wants her," Mercedes said, "and not me. She's so respectable. But Anne Marie doesn't know that she'll become just another one of his toys. A plaything for the renowned Maestro of the Night L.L. Jebal Hood."
"So why break it up?"
"I'm more practical than that." She licked her lips. It was a mixture of the predator's lust for live meat and the cocksuckstress's hunger. "I want to have him by his huge black-and-blue balls, I want him fucked up his firm jigaboo ass before I file for divorce."
"No ethnic overtones, of course."
"Let's just say his niggerish attitude doesn't turn this white bitch on no more. You want to know the score? L.L. Jebal's homeboy buddy-that gangster former cop from New Orleans who poses as every kind of piss-elegant posh Majestic Nigritude he can come up with-"
"You don't mean Antoine Chevalier--? "
"He marries him. I mean-Antoine as a chieftain, gris-gris man, not to mention reverend-oversees L.L. Jebal's marriages and divorces-just a lot of mumbo-jumbo jigaboo gibberish-"
"Legal? Any of it?"
"So long as you're under Antoine's jurisdiction. We've all been punked-huh?"
"I would sorely hate to crack wise at a time like this."
"Ha ha. Hee hee. Ho ho ho. Tee hee hee. Please don't let me bust my guts in an uproar of laughter.
Can we get this done now, Buckminster?"
Mercedes placed her palms on the floor. She hunched her shoulders and slinked into a cat-like stance. Her boobs oozed from her bodice.
Buckminster saw the hardened nipples-thick as thumbsedge from her neckline.
He pulsed his hips.
The great wad of darkling dick swung to and fro, leading her on.
Mercedes sashayed her fanny as though wagging a tail. She pawed forward till her mouth was within inches of the dark hanging prong.
She separated her lips. A tongue snaked out from between her teeth.
"Oh?" he said. "I have to make a phone call."
Buckminster lunged away from her and sloped onto the dais. He scooped up a telephone receiver padded in red Persian leather. Buckminster pulsed out a telephone number and gabbed a few seconds while Mercedes refreshed the drinks.
When he had hung up, Buckminster rolled off the dais and grabbed Mercedes about the waist.
"Listen, dudesse," he whispered, "there's something I haven't told you."
He brought his face close into hers.
She licked out her tongue. Stroked his cheek with the tip.
"Shoot," she slurped.
"One kiss first."
She dug into his mouth with her tongue. Scooped his cheeks with her teeth. Brought her hands down his ribs past his hips.
Her hand crept between his legs as they kissed. He snorkled down her throat. Wiped the insides of her mouth with his roving tongue.
His cock stabbed into her hand.
She gripped it right in back of the head.
"This is the way I like it," Mercedes said wetly. "My men totally naked, oiled, and black-and me entirely clothed."
"If you call no underwear entirely clothed," he said softly into her ear.
"I wear only one or the other-outerwear or underwear-who has use for both at the same time? Strippers. Perverts. Weirdos."
Mercedes dropped her head. Slackened her jaw. Lolled her tongue forth.
"There's the one other thing we need to get straight between us," he said.
Her tongue tip etched into the eyelet of his cock. He winced, tightened his ass.
The prick jerked in her hand.
"I don't know if I'm jaded or what," he said. "You might say I am overused to rich white cunts inviting me up to their pads and pouncing on me. But I must tell you, my dear Mercedes, that I cannot seem to get off unless I have two chicks strip each other down forcibly, slap and fucksuck each other to orgasm, and then blow me."
Mercedes picked up her head.
"You want that?" Her eyes were steady. "I'll fistruck her as soon as she gets here."
"You rang?" the feminine voice spoke behind the kneeling Mercedes.
"Who--? " Mercedes said eerily as she jerked her head half around.
"One of my colleagues," Buckminster said.
Mercedes's hand was still on his cock.
"Mercedes, you know Morrigana. You'll agree she's superb at breaking and entering, among her many other talents."
"Charmed," Mercedes said icily. "This one you want me to fuck?"
"Another rich bitch lesbo-bimbo," Morrigana said coolly. "Just what we need, Buck."
"I'm surprised at this one's yip, Buckminster," Mercedes said. "We had better put her mouth to work before she gets into trouble."
Mercedes chucked Morrigana underneath the chin.
Morrigana caught her wrist. Twisted her arm down and around. Brought the fingers into contact with the crotch of her jumpsuit.
"Shit," Mercedes said.
The pain seared through Mercedes's wrenched elbow. It speared into her fingers. Sent flames into her brain.
Morrigana rubbed Mercedes's grubbing fingers in between her twatlips. Pressed Mercedes's fist at the center of her pudendum.
"Mercedes," Buckminster said, "you'll find Morrigana is the strong, unsilent type. When you're as strong as she is, you got no fucking need in the world to remain silent."
Morrigana kicked one of Mercedes's ankles out from under her.
Mercedes hobbled to the floor.
"She's sneaky enough," Mercedes said. "Mean enough. Let's see if she's got the hardbod we'll need to snare L.L. Jebal."
She reached up and grabbed the front of Mor-rigana's jumpsuit. She kneaded the two hardened tits through the material.
Morrigana shook her off. She reached down the front of Mercedes's dress and took hold of bare ivory titflesh.
Meeting no resistance, she turned Mercedes's thick nips like knobs.
Mercedes's jaw went slack.
"Omigawd," Mercedes simpered, "she's good."
"So fuck her," Buckminster said.
Morrigana bent over Mercedes. Her tiny boobs pressed into Mercedes's eyesockets.
Morrigana's pussy hovered near Mercedes's own blimp-like breasts.
Both women's faces remained frozen, emotionless.
"We all need a drink," Buckminster said to no one in particular.
"Uh, fucking bitch," Mercedes said, spraying saliva from the center of her mouth.
"I'll make you cream all over the floor," Mercedes said. "You'll beg for me to fuck you and you'll take it everywhere."
Buckminster saw Morrigana back off. Saw Mercedes make her move, cat-like, without warning, toward Morrigana. Saw the way she went after her.
Mercedes licked the high heels of Morrigana's pumps. Then tossed them back over her shoulders into Buckminster's lap.
He stuck his dick into one of Morrigana's shoes and ran it in and out.
The two white women were tugging each other's hair in slow motion. Their heads waved like meadow flowers in the breeze.
Their tongues moved like shellless snails. Licking the wet strands of hair.
Braiding the tresses between their fingers as they chewed languorously.
Playing kissy-face.
Fingering each other's bodies.
"Let's see you suck on the soft spots," Buckminster said.
He fucked the high-heeled shoe. Brought himself to a near ejaculation and then paused to observe the two women.
Morrigana dropped to the floor. She twisted out of her clothing as Mercedes stood over her, pushing her pelvis in and out near her neck.
"Hey, I want some action, girls," Buckminster said. "You remember, Mercedes? Force. Force Morrigana to be your pussy-she's your servant."
"I'm the one who's hiring," Mercedes clipped out of her lips. "We play it my way."
Mercedes hiked the hem of her gown up her leg. A cheek of her hiney peered out.
A muff of dyed black cuntfur with metallic red highlights spread across a pelvis so white and shining it looked carved from alabaster. If he were ever to become excited by mere biscuitbuns feminine nudity again, Buckminster thought, this Mercedes gash would be the one.
"About those drinks," Buckminster said.
"Suck me, honey," Mercedes growled.
Morrigana shot her yip into Mercedes's snatch.
Her teeth tugged at the crinkly thatch.
Tufts of cunt-hair pulled out from Mercedes's twat and stuck between Morrigana's teeth.
"Drink my honey," Mercedes seethed.
Her knees wobbled.
She eased into a squat.
Her pussylips parted wider.
Morrigana slickered between the lips. Gnawed with lips and teeth at the rubbery meat. Cuntoils gushed into her gullet. Morrigana ate cunt ravenously. "Make it gooey."
Mercedes screwed her thumb into her clitoris. She tapped it gently. A shower of sparks went off throughout her body.
"Don't forget the fistrucking," Buckminster said. "Can you make that in the ass as well as cunt? Just for my sake."
Morrigana pressed her gaping maw forward. She ate up mouthfuls of drenched quim.
Mercedes buckled forward over her. Grabbed Morrigana's fanny and nibbled her clit through her legs from behind and underneath.
Morrigana's ass-hole opened and closed like the mouth of a fish.
Mercedes stabbed two fingers in.
Corkscrewed them up her ass.
She shot her other paw into Morrigana's snatch. The thatch parted and Mercedes forced her fist in to the wrist.
"Eaugh," Morrigana said. "Buckminster! What is this thing doing to me?"
Buckminster looked at them out of the corner of his eye. Stifled a yawn.
"Looks like she's giving you what you want."
With sleek hardwood hard-on bobbing, he marched from behind the bar and into the fuckfray.
"You like?" Mercedes said.
She turned her body and showed Buckminster both her forearms. One channeled between Mercedes's cunt lips and was buttered with ladycome up to her elbow.
The other was pumped inside Morrigana's ass-cheeks. The two of them together looked like liquid pretzels.
"It's okay," Buckminster said.
Morrigana's arms flailed. Her hiney shook. Her teeth were bared.
She rolled on the floor as Buckminster poured chilled vodka on her steamy flesh.
Morrigana contorted in orgasmic oblivion.
"You think she can last against L.L. Jebal?" Buckminster asked Mercedes.
Mercedes opened her mouth-to answer, Buckminster supposed. He jerked his hips forward, drilled dark dick into her parted teeth.
Mercedes hawked his hard-on down her throat even as she fistrucked the roiling Morrigana.
Buckminster shucked his pecker from Mercedes's yammering jaw. Pointed it at Morrigana.
The vodka slathered over his chest and navel. He poured more into his groin.
Morrigana's mouth bit into one side of his big black prick.
Mercedes gnawed at the other.
The vodka they lapped from his dong flared their nostrils. They chewed up crinkly alcoholic pudhairs around the base of his prod.
Morrigana took the top of the pullulating penis inside her mouth.
Mercedes sucked one ruddy gonad.
Morrigana swooped down the entire length of his hardwood dong.
Captured the hard-on within her craw.
They covered his chocolate-colored body with wet kisses. Jacked him off with their four hands. Blew him and sucked his dusky ass with their two mouths.
As the sun sank behind a bank of highrises jutting out into the bay, tops of the Gulf Beach skyline lit up like pricktips, and Buckminster let out a long strand of liquid jizzom.
White-chocolate come snapped in the air like melted latex.
Hung in stirrups from Mercedes's lips. The syrup coated Morrigana's eyebrows.
Dried to rubbery hardness on their flesh.
"Looks like we found ourselves a problem," Buckminster said.