Chapter 8
"Best there IS. "In never-ending supply, it that's what you want," Chaka says. "And I think you know now that I can deliver."
"Think he'll see us?" Cynthia asks.
"After a day like today?
"Oh, he'll see you.
"He needs an ego builder right about now, and you two are it.
"You understand what to say now?"
"Perfectly."
"Do this for me. You won't be sorry."
"I know.
"If I thought I would, I wouldn't do it. "Just one thing, though."
"Name it."
"Chlorine and Westphalia." Chaka smiles.
"No harm will come to them." And a new respect for Cynthia shows in his eyes. She understands perfectly what is about to happen.
Understands and is willing to go along with it, without tangible reward.
Because Chaka does not deceive himself concerning Cynthia and Helen.
This is a lark, a spree, a diversion.
This is not a permanent preoccupation.
Nigger fucking never is.
The taste may recur, probably will.
But as a steady diet?
Never happen.
But this also he respects.
Because he lives in a world where nothing is permanent or constant.
He lives in a world where everything keeps moving, changing.
Above all, that part of it with which he is concerned.
Any professional soldier will tell you that the surest way to get killed on the battlefield is to stand still in the line of fire.
The object of the game is to keep moving.
Open a packaging operation, close one.
Limit the hours of the day of distribution and keep changing them.
Do it one way this time, another the next.
Only thus can survival be maximized.
Not guaranteed, maximized.
If there were guarantees, he would not need Leroy.
No, he would not need a smart mouthpiece to perform rescue missions, to get people out on bail before they can be interrogated.
Or to reassure people, to calm them down, even in the midst of the trouble of a lifetime.
So that they will accept their sentences as the best obtainable under the circumstances.
So that they will keep their mouths shut without further action being necessary on his, Chaka's part.
No, the only thing guaranteed was a steadily growing personal fortune.
And the only way to guarantee that he would be able to enjoy it would be early retirement.
Because he would not be like the others, greedy, blind and foolish in that greed.
No, regardless of income, there would come a point in time at which he would seek the blessing of Big Jeff and get out of the business.
To do otherwise would be merely an elaborate and sophisticated form of suicide.
Nevertheless, this was what the others invariably did.
And where they made their fatal mistake.
Because if the law didn't get them, then rivals would.
Take Rex, for example.
And Chaka smiles.
Because that's what this is all about.
They are about to take Rex.
Big Jeff was indicating that this was the only way for Chaka, for any of them to solve their problems with Rex and his megalomaniac ego that was risking everything.
And if Chaka could manage that The king is dead. Long live the king.
Yes, Chaka would retire.
But his special retirement would be his abdication as king.
He would be the only guy in this business to go out a winner. If this works.
They are in a cab.
That is, it looks like a cab, right down to the meter.
At one time, in fact, it was. But the meter no longer works. And the medallion is a phony. As is the driver, who is one of Chaka's fortunate five.
As they follow a Cadillac.
Which contains another of the inner coterie.
Who has an appointment with Rex.
Who will, with surly bad grace, receive him.
Because Rex's mid-day dalliance resulted in an aggregation of high-level distributors cooling their heels on the sidewalk outside Rex's condo.
Which attracted the notice of the police.
Who took advantage of so distinguished a gathering to serve several warrants.
Which upset Big Jeff, he who is, in Chaka's words, "above them all", no end.
Because this is but the latest example of Rex's arbitary and high-handed handling of their mutual interests.
And Big Jeff has passed the word.
The next major distributor to be kept waiting, or, as Chaka has had to do, pick up from another source, will cause him to consider organizational changes of a serious and far-reaching nature.
So the man in the Cadillac, Chaka's buyer, will be received without delay.
Even though he is on the heels of, at the same time as, two beautiful, white socialites ready (naturally) for seconds.
So that much will happen at once.
But nothing that Rex's security cannot handle.
That is, if they know what's good for them.
And certainly, Howard, the head of that securit knows what's good for him.
"So? What do I care? Send 'em all up! "I mean, we talkin' Phil, right? "Don' wanna see that sumbitch nohow, cep'n gotta.
"Let 'im see what the king gets by way of nookie, so's he kin tell Chaka how the othah half lives."
"I don' know, Rex. "Seem to me you oughtta-"
"The fuck is this?
"Evahbody inna whole worl' tellin' me how ta operate?
"You open them fuckin' big black lips an' tel Bruce send 'em all up.
"An' you search Phil real good, you hear?
"An' you two," he adds, fuming to Chlorine and Westphalia, "you jus' keep the fuck our the way."
And they, who have never been in the way, just look at him, puzzled.
And think he's losing it.
So they retire to opposite ends of the huge, overstuffed couch, which is Rex's equivalent of a throne.
While Rex himself is (regally) seated in the center, behind the low, glass table, its surface occupied by twenty boxes of Jolly Clown popcorn.
Or, more accurately, twenty Jolly Clown popcorn boxes.
And, it must he admitted that, upon inspection, crack does resemble broken puffs of popcorn.
So that Jolly Clown is poor product indeed, to look upon.
The man outside the door is already dead.
And Helen cannot help but gaze in horror as he slides down the wall, even though the pattern of his sportshirt covers the small hole in his chest which Phil's silenced pistol has put there.
And Howard is at the bullseye, looking at Phil looking at him.
And Howard opens the door.
To admit Phil, gym bag in hand, along with the two women.
"Check the bag, check the bag!" Rex tells Howard, impatiently.
Howard checks the bag.
"Nothin' but money. Rex."
"And the man! Check the man!"
Shrugging and grinning, Phil turns around and places his hands on the wall, spreading his legs in the classic police suspect search stance.
As Howard, holding a pistol on him, feels Phil up and down.
"He's clean," Howard says. "Trouble is, ah ain't."
And plugs Rex neatly between the eyes.
So quickly that Chlorine and Westphalia do not have time to scream, in fact seem to have trouble understanding what has just happened. "Uh, you two might wanna get your things together. Fast. You're moving."
"Where, where-" Westphalia stammers, not moving.
"Just move ass, fool!" Chlorine says. And they go into the bedroom to pack. . "Popcorn?" Phil asks.
"All in shopping bags. That closet," Howard replies.
"Chaka says, 'You win'. All yours."
"What about Bruce?"
"Up to you.
"Wanna take him with you to LA?"
"I'll think about it."
"I never counted on getting into anything like this," Helen says.
"Don't feel bad," Cynthia replies, "neither did Rex."
"But-"
"Show ya something, kiddo." And Cynthia digs behind the rear cushion in the couch beside the one against which Rex sits, looking as unpleasant as he had sounded just before he lost the ability.
And pulls out an Uzi.
"How, how did you-"
"The point, Helen, is that Rex was prepared to waste you, me, or anybody else in the twinkling of an eye.
"We're talking Idi Amin here.
"Who do you want in charge of crack in this city-Chaka or Idi?"
And Howard, Phil, and Helen look at Cynthia, then at each other.
"Best give me the toy," Howard says.
And takes it from her.
And only now does Cynthia realize what she has said.
She has assigned good guy status to Chaka.
To Chaka, who has manipulated her expertly.
To Chaka, who has made her an accessory to double murder.
And even Howard and Phil would not go that far.
"Helen, could we go home right now, right this very minute?
"We can get your car out of Atlantic City some other time."
Howard dies first.
They find him in Los Angeles.
Where his death, not an accident, was described as "drug related".
And apparently, Chaka's retirement plan was defective.
For all his charm, intelligence, erudition, and planning, he failed to outlive his potential. Or perhaps he perished trying to live up to it. Meaning messing with Big Jeff. And Phil?
Phil, according to the papers, is "reputed" to be moving up in the wonderful world of drugs. Moving up.
Like the next round in the magazine of an automatic pistol.
So that he will undoubtedly be the next round fired to its own destruction.
The summer is almost ended.
And the war on drugs continues.
And the war in drugs continues as well.
And the women, who started out with the simple desire for black cock, cannot believe where their adventure has led them, or that they have managed to escape unscathed.
They are in New Jersey.
Cynthia is visiting Helen again.
And now, Cynthia has an idea.
"Know where we went wrong, kiddo?"
"Where?"
"We tried to get too fancy, too sophisticated.
"We were so smart we were actually stupid.
"Leroy was playing head games with us.
"He saw what we were doing as an adversarial game, a challenge.
"He accepted the challenge, rose to the occasion, and won."
"Won?"
"Look what the hell he got us into!
"At no risk, with no direct connection to himself, whatever happened.
"He almost got us caught up in the insane world he uses so well for fun and profit.
"Rex is dead.
"Chaka is dead.
"Howard is dead.
"We were playing with death, for heaven's sake, Helen!
"He had me out of my mind!"
"Almost, Cynthia. Almost. Remember, we got ourselves out of there, out of that world, under our own power."
"By a hair's breadth."
"Case closed."
"Bullshit!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What I want, I intend to have, kiddo! "And nobody and nothing is going to put me off of it until I'm damned good and ready!"
"What are we saying here?"
"Back to basics!"
James cannot believe his luck. There they are!
And this time, he is with a friend.
So that this will not be dismissed as a tall tale.
He has a witness.
Unless, of course, they don't want to know him.
But, he thinks, in for a penny, in for a dollar.
Naked, he leaves his friend by the shore as he walks up to their blanket.
Naked, they stare up at him, faces expressionless behind dark glasses.
And they can see the doubt in his eyes.
But Cynthia smiles.
"Hello."
"Hello! You remember me, don't you?" There it is, Cynthia thinks. The awkwardness, the density of youth. But she is not going to let that get in her way, either.
Not this time, dammit!
He has what she wants.
It dangles, powerful and enticing, before him.
"I remember."
"I, uh, I have a friend with me today."
"Me too."
"Well, then, I was wondering if we could, ah-"
"We could."
James signals to his friend to come over, eager "come here" motions with his hand. "This is Larry," he says. "Hi."
"You guys ready?"
Larry looks at James, puzzled.
"Ready for what?" he asks.
And James replies, "If I was to tell you, you wouldn't believe it."
Then, to the women, "We are ready whenever you are."
Helen looks Larry up and down.
And finds him on about the same physical level as James.
Which is logical, since they work out together at the gym. He will do.
"No time like the present," she says.
There are not three big, black cocks in her this time. There is only one. And it represents only itself. It is not the macho symbol of an outlaw or a power-mad megalomaniac or a power-mad pseudo-intellectual or a power-mad murderer or even a power-mad professional.
It is long and thick and hard and hot black cock, pure and simple.
Which is what she should have stayed with while she was ahead of the game.
Because this is hers, as much and as long as she wants it.
Down her throat.
In her cunt.
Up her ass.
He is young and strong.
And his friend is there in the bed next to them, with Helen.
So that this is on the record.
So that this is the real thing, and not some waking dreaming fantasy.
So that, for now and forever after, it shall be known that James and Larry have scored the score of scores.
Two beautiful blondes.
Two mature, wealthy, beautiful blondes.
Whom they have eaten and who have eaten them.
So that they will be able to describe, in minute detail, their taste, their feel, their appearance.
So that to the eroticism of the actual experience will be added the stamp of authenticity.
This happened and will be so noted in the pool hall, on front stoops, at the gym, and shooting hoops.
But that is for later.
For now, the important thing is to live the dream. And they are.
Because James has scooped up Cynthia's thighs, doubling her up so that he can suck her big boobs even as he ploughs her.
And still he cannot resist a peek over at Larry, to see if he is watching him.
And they catch sight of each other, watching, checking up on each other, verifying that what is happening;-is happening.
Because they cannot, will not trust to their sensations alone.
They are too exquisite, too exciting, too delicious.
Such feelings only happen in bed, alone, in the dark.
Jerking off and summoning the images.
And now, the images are here.
And for all their solidity, for all the sensations, their reality lies in the confirming observation of another.
The feedback of such observation making it all the more luscious. They ate them, now they are fucking them. And they have seen each other eat and fuck.
And this is just the first of many rounds.
And they find that their staying power too is everything they have dreamed it would be.
Everything is calm and clear and controlled.
They could ride like this forever, driving their beautiful blonde partners higher and higher up the rainbow of sexual pleasure.
With their big, tireless, black prongs.
Which piston in and out of the pink, juicy, parted, stretched labia with an almost mechanical efficiency.
But now, they feel the heat.
And the pleasure is too much for them to maintain control.
And they reach that point at which the next increment of pleasure exceeds in desirability the extension of time afforded by control.
So that their nuts unlock and they surrender to the lascivious sensations that permeate their mammoth meat.
And they are coming and coming.
And none too soon, either.
Because their partners are experiencing multiple orgasms, free to enjoy black cock without any overtones of power and danger.
Black cock as it was meant to be.
Black cock which does not have an attitude, which does not threaten or attempt to overwhelm, to make of itself the representative of forces of struggle or triumph.
It is delicious, simple, and clean.
It is a delightful diversion.
And the interlude continues as the couples shower together, a pair at a time.
Cynthia thinks, There may be bullshit at work here.
But it is divorced from the performance.
Because she really does not care where his head is at, as long as she knows where that cock is and what it is doing.
And now, they are back in bed.
And she does not hesitate, does not object as he turns her over.
Of course he is going to fuck her in the ass.
Of course he is going to make sure that his friend sees the action.
And emulates it.
So that each of them will understand what the other is experiencing and know that they speak the truth, even if it should be embellished by description whose length and detail exceed the act itself.
To have fucked a big, beautiful blonde in the ass, and them not yet twenty-five!
Surely this will do something for them, will give them some kind of power.
Unless.
Unless it is not so much a begetting of power but a calling forth, a summoning of that power which already lies within them.
Because they have had nookie in the neighborhood.
But now, that seems like mere prelude, practice for the main event. Which this is.
And they are certainly proving themselves men of the world.
Because this is the event of events.
And, in the mind of James, there is no question but that it will happen again.
Because they were no more at the beach this time for a tan than was he.
They were looking for it!
It!
Meaning his big, black cock.
And even now, he wonders how much oral preparation he should give her prior to fucking her in her big, gorgeous ass.
Should he stretch her all the way with tongue and lingers, or should he, perhaps, leave things a little tight.
So that she will have something to remember him by between dates.
So that, ready or not, here he comes.
He has -rimmed her, fucked her in the ass with his tongue, and fingered her deeply.
To make things easier for himself, he tells himself.
And not for her sake at all.
"Unnh!"
And he is pleased that she experiences some discomfort as he shafts his long, thick, hard, vibrant, black pole into her, all the way.
So that she must force her bowels to relax, to accommodate him.
But still, the feeling is exquisite.
And she surrenders to it completely, as a hand reaches beneath her to fondle her boobs before working its way back to her juicy cunt.
And she closes her eyes with pleasure.
So that she does not see the two young men exchange glances of triumph at what they are accomplishing here today for the record.