Chapter 3
Nathan was the Owner and manager of the Kitty Kat Club. He'd been at it for over twenty years, and would likely remain in the place until he retired. He'd been around a long time and over the years he'd seen a lot of good looking women come through his office, but nothing like the blonde beauty who stood in front of his desk at that very moment. She was such a sensual masterpiece that he had a hard-on from the moment he saw her. He guessed her measurements to be 36-24-36. Everything about her was firm and shapely. Breasts. Waist. Buttocks. She was incurving and out-curving in the right places.
She had that rare combination of innocence and sensuality. In this sophisticated age, beautiful women usually knew they were good-looking thanks to the ads from Madison Avenue, the commercials on television, and the movies from Hollywood. If a woman was beautiful and didn't realize it in this day and age, she was either a moron or had the brains of a tortoise. As a result, good looking women adopted what they considered to be a chic, urban, and snotty attitude. They acted smug-as if saying, "Yea, I know I've got a golden cunt. Eat your heart out." In other words, they pretended that they lived in a Manhattan high rise-in the penthouse suite- even though they might actually live in an overpriced studio with leaking pipes.
But the doll standing before Nathan at that very moment looked as if she had been plucked from the middle of an Iowa cornfield in the middle of June. Her smile seemed real, not calculating. Her perfect posture was genuine, not a put-on. And certainly her body was real. There was little doubt that it was the work of superior genetics, not suburban plastic surgeons which led to those scintillating curves. She was one deliciously shapely morsel all right. Moreover, she had the face of an angel.
From the expression on her face it was obvious that she hadn't expected a large black man to be seated behind the manager's desk at the Kitty Kat Club. She had that look of surprise he frequently saw on white women's face when they noted his race.
"Yes. What can I do for you?" he asked with a serious tone as she stepped forward.
"I'm here to see about a job," she replied as she lowered her head and looked at her hand.
He was startled! She sounded halfway intelligent! He had expected her to have a Bronx accent. "A job?" he asked with curiosity. "I haven't placed any ads in the paper lately."
"I know you haven't," she said apologetically. "I just wanted to see if you had any openings. I need the money."
His eyebrows rose at that revealing remark.
Suddenly he was very interested in this young woman. "You know, come to think of it, we just might have an opening."
"Oh that would be wonderful if you do. I would be willing to go to work right away."
"You would, eh?" he said, more as a comment to himself rather than a question to her. He assessed her carefully and asked, "Have you ever been a waitress in a place like this before?" He let his eyes wander up and down her incredibly beautiful body, pausing at each delectable curve to survey as much of the scenery as possible. "Do you have any idea what takes place here at the Kitty Kat Club?"
"No. Not really," she replied, not really liking the overt visual inspection she was receiving, yet tolerating it because she and Herschel needed the money that the job would provide.
"Well, I guess that doesn't matter. We can always use someone as pretty as you," he said with a wicked smile, focusing his gaze at the place in the dress where the juncture of her thighs would be.
She returned the smile, feeling very uncomfortable in his presence. She was not sure what was going through his mind, and didn't really want to know. She had heard that certain men had very dirty minds-that they were always undressing women in their thoughts. They were always ready for sexual intercourse-anytime of the day or night. She had never met any man like that, but she suspected that Nathan was probably that type.
My goodness! she thought. He's looking at me as if he knows what I look like without panties!
To be quite honest, he was imagining much more than that. He was wondering what she would look like if she were spread-eagled, chained to the wall, and had a banana thrust up her cunt. And this mental image was mild in comparison to his gang-rape fantasy.
She worried that this man did not seem to be a friendly negro like Leroy. This man seemed more streetwise. He had an intensity about him which frightened her. He was the type that a beautiful blonde didn't want to meet in a dark alley. She shivered at the thought.
He leaned back in his leather chair and continued to survey the beautiful lass standing in front of him. Although he could hire her right on the spot, he decided to play a little game instead. He rocked back and forth a few times in his chair and said, "Hike up your dress."
She didn't know if she had heard correctly or not. "What?" she exclaimed in a mild state of shock. "What did you ... you ... say?"
"Hike up your dress. I want to see your legs. I don't want to hire a woman who has varicose veins and bow-legs."
She stood in silence for a moment, not knowing what to do. A thousand questions flashed through her mind. What if he wanted to see more than just her legs? What if he wanted to take a look at her thighs-and then her upper thighs-and then her crotch! Maybe she should call this whole thing off. Just as she was prepared to run screaming from the room she again remembered that she and Herschel desperately needed the money. She had no choice but to comply with the manager's request.
"C'mon! C'mon!" Nathan demanded. "I don't have all day! Get that dress up and let's see some leg."
He spoke with an air of authority. For some odd reason she liked that. It made the situation more bearable than if someone with a wimpy voice-like Herschel-had asked her to proceed. She closed her eyes, reached down, and did as Nathan requested. The hem rose by only fractions of a millimeter until she decided to get the interview over as quickly as possible and hoisted the hemline above her knees.
"Ah! That's better." He leaned forward on his elbows and looked closely at her legs. Wow! They were truly dynamite. This broad really did have a great body. Everything was long, lean, and sinewy. She was a perfect sex kitten and would fit in well at the Kitty Kat Club. "You've got very nice calves and knees," he said as if he were truly interested in her lowermost extremities. "However, I want to see your thighs," he commanded. "Hike the dress up higher. I want to see everything."
Beth's eyes reddened as a tear appeared in the corner of them. "Is this really necessary?" she asked softly.
He could see that she was on the verge of crying out loud. Thus, he explained, "Of course it's necessary. You're going to be wearing a Kitty Kat uniform. That means something. When you walk out there in that costume you'll be a walking advertisement for this place. When you wait on a customer he'll think, Aha! This place has class. I want to spend as much money as I possibly can in this joint, and I want to tip this beautiful broad more bucks than I've tipped any broad before."
Nathan continued, "I don't want to hire a woman who has dimpled masses of cellulite hanging out from all over her body. I don't want a customer to say, 'Ye gads! This joint hires ugly waitresses. I don't want to drink here.'"
Beth looked at the floor, ashamed to have questioned his obviously honorable motives. She was brought back to reality when she heard him say, "Now that I've explained things to you, let me see those thighs."
She gave in and lifted the dress up higher-until the hemline was even with the uppermost part of her thigh and she could feel the air of the room brushing against her smooth skin. She was silently cursing herself for being allowed to be talked into this type of situation. Who could have put such a ridiculous idea into her husband's head that the Kitty Kat Club was a great place to work?
Nathan leaned further over his desk. Holy shit! He would love to bury his black face between those gorgeous white legs. This chick had the best pair of gams he had seen on any woman in years. They were sleek and lean, long and shapely, all the way from her small delicately shaped ankles to the uppermost reaches of her thighs. They were the kind that every man-black and white-dreamed of. The calves stood out and the thighs were equally well-defined. They didn't have a blemish nor a scar on them anywhere. They were every bit as good looking as those on that chick named Cynthia. Mmm! He got to wondering what this particular pair might look like wrapped around a black torso- specifically, his.
He scratched his chin and said, "Lift the dress a little bit higher. I want to see more." He knew that he was crossing onto thin ice with this request. Legal problems could arise if word of this "interview" got out. Worse yet, the radical feminists might come after him with a hatchet as they had once threatened. Of course, he really didn't have anything to worry about city police. Most of the Vice Squad regularly visited his establishment and half of them had been paid off with substantial bribes.
Beth couldn't believe what Nathan was asking of her. Hell! If she lifted the dress any higher, the bottommost part of her panties would be showing. Even though she didn't want to do what he requested-she did. That commanding voice sent shivers down her spine and made her obey.
As the panties came into view, the manager couldn't help smacking his lips at the sight in front of him. Ohhh! She had a great looking body. This woman was a walking, talking, advertisement for sex-every position-any time of the night or day. She had the kind of pussy that pouted outward slightly, stretching the thin material of her panties. It appeared to be a little pouch located right there in the middle of her pelvis. Mmmm! He wondered how many dicks had plunged into that pleasure cavern. A good looking dame like this could have had thirty or forty lovers easily. If she worked it right, she could have fucked four or five times per day.
Unlike a lot of women, her legs did not come together immediately below the pussy. Instead, there was a slight space-the kind which was usually found on smaller women. If a man wanted, he could place his hand below her mound without touching the flesh of her thigh. This anomaly meant that the female was in terrific physical shape and would remain so for a considerable length of time. Oh yea! A broad like this would be fuckable for another twenty years-if she didn't let herself go to pot by munching on cupcakes and Danish muffins.
She seemed to be waiting for his appraisal, but he was in no hurry. Contrary to his earlier statement saying that he had many things to do, he didn't. The accountant did his bookkeeping, a lawyer handled any legal problems, and Wanda handled any personnel problems with the girls. In truth, the only thing that he had to do for the remainder of the afternoon was fuck with Beth-which he would hopefully be doing very soon.
It was so nice to have her stand in front of him hoisting up her dress like that. What a feeling of power it gave him. He now knew what it meant to be one of those Hollywood moguls back in the 1920's or thirties. To have all of that choice white pussy, coming from all over the continent, willing to do anything to get into motion pictures. Ahhh! He would have loved to have been one of those guys. He bet that every hayseed who walked in off the street looked as good as this dish. No wonder the Casting Couch was invented.
"Can I put my dress back down?" she asked with a slight pleading tone in her voice.
He heard the trembling tone and saw the slight nervousness she displayed. For some reason, that sight made him that much more aroused. For a brief flickering instant he yearned for the return of slavery-at least for beautiful white women. Power was an aphrodisiac. Power was erotic. Power was a hard-on.
He decided to play this game to it farthest limits. After all, he was already wallowing in shadowy legal territory. "Not quite yet. Turn around. I want to glance at your backside."
She rolled her eyes heavenward as if silently asking for divine intervention from the Goddess of Pussy Protection, but she did as he instructed anyway. She didn't know if she liked the idea of being surveyed as if she were a piece of meat. And that's exactly what she felt like! She suddenly had a tremendous amount of empathy with female beauty contestants. The poor girls had to put up with this all the time. And now she had another worry: What would the manager ask her to do next? Lower her panties!
Nathan truly enjoyed viewing Beth from the rear. Her legs were that much mote magnificent from a rear perspective. And he had the added freedom of being able to stroke his crotch and lick his lips while he looked at her delicious body. Ummm! What he would give to have her squat down and sit on his erection. Oh yea. That would really be nice.
He realized that he couldn't ask her to stand there for the rest of the afternoon, but he wondered if maybe he could get her to do one more thing. He inhaled deeply and said, "You look fine from the rear, but I want you to lower your panties."
"What!" she screamed as she looked over her shoulder in wide-eyed horror. "I can't do that! Please don't make me do that."
"C'mon! C'mon! Lower your panties," he said without compassion. "I've got to check out your ass. I can't tell a damn thing about it unless I see it."
"What the hell difference does it matter what my ass looks like!" she screamed. She was surprised at the anger in her voice. To lose control was very much unlike her. She prided herself on remaining composed during all situations.
"It matters plenty to the customers here at the Kitty Kat Club," Nathan said with a steady level tone, realizing that he may have reached the limits of his little game. "The men who come in here can't stand women who have fat asses. If I hired fat butts, I'd be out of business in only a matter of weeks. Now drop those drawers, damn it! If I'm going to pay you to show your body to my customers, I'm going to make damned sure that I don't put anything ugly or artificial in a Kitty Kat costume. I have a good solid business reputation to maintain."
"I swear, this is enough to turn a woman into a feminist," she said, barely holding her tongue while turning beet red from anger and embarrassment. "My husband doesn't even see me like this."
Too bad, thought Nathan. Any man married to a woman as beautiful as this who doesn't take advantage of every situation deserves to wind-up as a retread virgin wearing a chastity belt.
She reached behind her and stuck her fingers into the elastic of her panties before lowering them. She didn't understand why she was doing this. It seemed as if another person had taken control of her mind and was acting out this terrible scene. She tried to disassociate herself from events. She decided that she would simply act out the scene and not worry about the consequences. As she got the panties down to her knees she asked, "There! How's that?"
When the panties were down around her knees, Nathan again smacked his lips. Mmmph! What a magnificent ass. And in this position it was displayed for maximum benefit. Oh yea. This woman would really be a good lay. He didn't tell her how pleased he was with her appearance because he still wanted to stretch the game to its ultimate limit. "Er ... you look pretty good, but bend over a slight bit."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because occasionally you'll drop a receipt or a napkin on the floor and you'll be asked to pick it up. Men will look at your ass and they will want to be pleased at what they see. Now, I'm asking you for the last time to cooperate. Do as I say."
The argument made sense and his voice again had the ring of authority, so she did as requested. She looked at the clock and noticed the time. She would do anything to hurry this interview along.
He gazed at her posterior as if it were the Hope diamond. The assflesh was smooth, well-rounded, and glowed with a healthy sheen. There was no sign of fat whatsoever. It was the kind of ass which should be sculpted by an artist and put on display in a museum. It was the kind that men wanted to kiss with their lips and lick with their tongues. No dimples. No wrinkles. No blemishes. It was the derriere of a fully mature woman, who apparently didn't know how to use it.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at it for several minutes. He wished that he had the power to make her stay in one position for an entire day. He would simply spend his time gazing at it and admiring it. A lot of women had good looking asses, but only a rare few had ones which were truly remarkable.
"Well, do I pass the inspection?" she asked, still bending over and thrusting her ass outward.
"Well, I'm still not sure," he said teasingly. "Bend forward just a little bit more so that I can see your entire pubis."
This was the ultimate insult. A tear rolled down her rosy cheek and fell to the carpeted floor. Surely the manager must know how exposed and vulnerable a woman felt in this particular position. It was degrading. It was vulgar. It was obscene. It was all her husband's fault for getting her into this situation. If he would have sold more goods at his place of employment she wouldn't need to present her pussy like a common slut. She sniffled twice and asked, "How about now? Do I pass?"
Nathan was gazing at the most beautiful pussy he had ever laid eyes on. Her pubic hair was nearly the same color as that atop her head, but more amazingly, it had the same lustrous sheen. He had never seen a pubic patch which seemed so soft. He wanted to reach out and gently stroke it, but he refrained because that would be pushing the limits of this game far beyond the acceptable boundaries. Running right through the center of her Mound of Venus was a perfectly aligned slit. It was quite apparent that she had never fucked around a great deal, otherwise it would show the tell-tale signs of being repeatedly reamed.
She was bending over so far that he could see her entire pudendum-everything from her hooded pink clitoris to her puckered pink asshole. He was delighted to see that she kept herself remarkably clean. That was one of the advantages of hiring suburban white women-they always looked as if they were ready for sex. And they usually were!
"Oh yea. You pass all right. You're hired." He had trouble speaking because he had such a tremendous hard-on. It bulged out from the front of his pants, tenting the material, making it uncomfortable to stand.
Beth quickly stood, pulled her panties back in place, and let her dress fall back below her knees. She turned around to face the manager and asked, "When do I start?"
"We have an opening for you tonight," he said as he tried to make himself comfortable. "That is, if you'd like to start that soon."
"Yes. I think so. The sooner I get into the swing of this place the better off I'll be."
"That's the right attitude," he said with a smile. "I think you'll like it here at the Kitty Kat Club. You'll meet lots of new friends."
As she rearranged her dress and made herself presentable she asked, "By the way, what's the starting salary?"
"Minimum wage," he said without emotion.
Beth blinked several times and then looked at him. When she realized what he had said, her mouth dropped open and she gasped, "You ... you've got to be kidding me."
He looked at her levelly and repeated, "No. It's the minimum wage. That's what I pay all the waitresses regardless of how long they've been on the job."
"I thought that this was a good place to work," she said in an extremely angry voice.
"It is," he replied with a wry smile.
"How can you say that when you only pay the minimum? I could have gone to work as a clerk at J. C. Penney's ... and ... and ... I wouldn't have had to display my pussy!"
Nathan leaned forward, looked her in the eyes, and said, "I may pay the minimum, but the girls collect a hell of a lot of tips. Some of them can pull in sixty to seventy bucks and hour if they play their cards right. I've got no restrictions on how much they make, nor on how they make it. It's totally up to them. I own the club, I run the club, but the girls who work here never complain about the money. They know it's a good deal. They like it. It's as simple as that. If you only want to make the minimum wage, you can just sit on your lovely ass and cross your beautiful legs and do nothing. But if you really want to make the bucks, you can get out there and hustle. It's very much like a straight commission job, except that I pay you. a base salary, and I offer you health insurance, medical benefits, and a dental plan. Take it, or leave it, babe."
"Oh! I didn't know that," she said almost apologetically, regretting that she had gotten angry and raised her voice.
"You didn't ask," he replied. "Besides, I don't want any of my beauties to be harmed or to come down with an illness. I'm here to protect you. Remember that," he said with a lecherous grin.
"I'll remember that," she said with as sneer as she turned and walked out the door.