Chapter 1
Kathy Eaton drank the last of her coffee and sighed. She put the cup back in the saucer and stood, walking over to the window to stare out at her view of Houston.
The sun was dying in the sky to the west. Streaks of red and pink speckled the lower clouds. The bright blue of day was turning into the darker blue, then deep purple violet of coming night. Soon, the stars would be out to pepper the blackness of the firmament. Here, in the city, that would not be as easy to see as out in the country.
She wished she was someplace else and not here, in this corner of the world. In fact, Kathy wished she were anywhere but in this corner of her life. She would gladly have traded places with anyone else.
The day was beautiful, the city was beautiful, the coming of night promised still more beauty and tranquility, but not for her. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. And when the beholder is not at peace there is no jewel that can please the eye.
There was a low rumble of thunder somewhere to the south. Kathy thought that perhaps a rainstorm was forming over Galveston Bay. It would surely come north and inundate Houston, however briefly.
Her eyes swept across the city; Houston Heights, Cottage Grove, Memorial Park, with its picnic area and The River Oaks Country Club next to it. River Oaks was a private club, full of rich folks. Thinking about it only made her poverty more apparent. She tried to force this down as her eyes traveled south and surveyed more of this huge metropolis called Houston; Montrose, Southhampton Place, then Hermann Park.
In the warm summer afternoons, with the heat haze thick in the air, Kathy Eaton loved walking through Hermann Park. She loved the Garden Center in particular, with its more then three thousand rose bushes. The air in the afternoon was fragrant with scents. It was almost like walking through a perfume factory. Sometimes, Kathy would sit on a park bench and close her eyes. Just the setting and the scent were enough to help her forget the here and now. The trouble was that once she opened her eyes again the here and now intruded on the then and there. Sometimes she just wished she could shut her eyes and be in a place like the rose gardens forever. But life is not so kind. Fairy tales exist only in movies and books for children.
Sometimes she would go to the zoo in Hermann Park. There was a large reptile display. The prehistoric looking monsters sent shivers up her back. Kathy was both repelled and attracted. Then she would go to the aviary; a vast, jungle setting, where two hundred different exotic birds flew about in almost complete freedom.
Hermann Park was connected by MacGregor Way to MacGregor Park. MacGregor Way was a wide corridor of meandering greenery that worked its way east toward the sister park to Hermann Park. It was quite a walk and would leave her exhausted each time she made it. The scent of the greenery, the sight of the trees, bushes, and rolling grassy slopes and a good fudge pop bought from an ice cream cart, made the walk worthwhile.
But life was not all pleasant walks, greenery, and fudge pops. There are bilk to be paid, lots of bills.
Her eyes continued to move across the vast hide of the city; Foster Place, Kings Court, Bayou Oaks. All the names were of familiar places she had been through or worked in. People seldom realized how massive Houston was till they passed through it. They were right about it being the city of the future.
South of Bayou Oaks a small plane was lifting off from W.P. Hobby Airport. Sun glinted off the white and silver wings and the gay red stripes along the fuselage.
She wondered where it was going, what it would be like to travel aboard such a plane, and why she couldn't be on it instead of elsewhere, like here. Kathy also pondered about how many others across this vast city were watching that plane lift off and wondering if they could be on it instead of where they were at that very moment.
She couldn't see farther to the south and east. Kathy knew that to the southeast was Pasadena and after an open section south of Houston there was League City, Texas City, then the bay and Galveston Island.
All of it was just open terrain to her, nothing more, open terrain that spoke of jobs and the people who had them. Kathy had walked herself sore looking for work without any luck.
It was a case of water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. The divorce from her husband had left Kathy numb. Then the alimony payments stopped and she felt herself miss a heartbeat.
She was free, black and twenty-nine. But without money you aren't really free. Till now Kathy had thought that getting a job wasn't hard. Till the divorce she had been a housewife. All she knew was taking the money and spending it. Her husband used to complain that Kathy wouldn't spend it so fast if she knew how hard it came to him. But Kathy didn't listen. Maybe that was one reason why Sam left her. She admitted now what she hadn't been able to admit for months after the divorce, that she had been too bitchy and demanding.
"Oh Sam, where are you now?" she asked, aloud. "I'd take you back, Sam, and treat you right. It's so good to have a man around the house. Two shoulders to hug, a fine cock to stroke, two darling balls to suck on."
Suddenly her thoughts flashed back to better times, to happier times. She envisioned Sam, his lean, hard, finely-chiseled ebony body standing prominently before her, a misty sheen of perspiration covering it from the panting preliminaries in which they had enjoyably engaged. Time and again the aroused black man, her husband, had kissed and hugged her, and after his lips had pushed resolutely against hers for several long and intensely, sublime minutes he switched the action, stepping it up to an even more aroused moment of passion, in which he thrust his stirrring tongue forward and let it twist and slide against hers until they were both almost breathless.
Now he threw his rock hard body down on top of her, reaching out and letting his fingers stirringly caress the firm warmth of her supple, inflamed breasts. Every additional moment of contact produced mounting quivering waves of desire that reverberated throughout her entire body, particularly between her legs, in the sensation-ridden valley of her enticingly warm and increasingly moistening vaginal nest.
"OH, HONEY, I NEED IT, I NEED YOU," she gasped. "I WANT IT, OOOHH, HONEY, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, OOOOOOHHHHHHH, FUCK ME!"
He shoved his steaming, rock hard organ forward, heaving a deep sigh of lustful satisfaction as it made its initial penetration within the familiar warmth of her tight, always clasping vaginal. Instinctively Kathy tightened her legs and cunt muscles, lasciviously wiggling her buttocks back and forth, enjoying the hot, determined thrusts of Sam's scalding cock.
"OOOOOWWWWWEEEEEEEEEE, HOW TIGHT," Sam grunted between panting thrusts, "KEEP WIGGGLLLLLLIIIIIIIING THAT HOT ASS! OH DAMNED, YEAH, FUCK UP TO ME, OOOOOOHHHHHHHH, HOW GG-GOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!"
She loved feeling the thunderous warmth of his dominating prick as it stabbed and thrust relentlessly inside the tightness of her vaginal sheath. Her head spun and a procession of flashing lights beamed in her ever widening eyes while her buttocks twisted and churned against the crisp white bed sheets beneath her. She listened to the loud incessant jangling of the bedsprings that their stirringly alive bodies precipitated while the hot, jolting thrusts continued.
Sam reached out and let his huge, warm hands explore the curvaceous surface of her searing buttocks. His fingers clasped her chocolate-colored bottomcheeks while his thundering cock continued devastating her with its solid, knifing thrusts, and all the while he was pushing that much closer to the explosive moment when the thundering droplets of hot white cock fluid would spray from the end of his swollen, determined shaft.
While his fingers pushed against the ripeness of Kathy's shapely buttocks, the horny black woman could no longer hold back the floodtide of passion that demanded release.
"OOOOOOHHHHHHHH, AAAAAAA-GGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, IIIII'MMMMMM, TTTTTHHHHHEEEEEEERRRREEEEEEEE!" she loudly gasped.
"I'm right with you," Sam exclaimed.
His fingers pinched more tightly than ever against her wiggling brown bottomcheeks until the thick white stream of emancipating penis fluid charged from the tip of his cockhead and filled her with overflowing waves of delectably warm juice.
"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHH, IIII'MMMMM TTTHHHHEEEEERRRREEEEEEE!" he exclaimed with an air of celebration.
Then Kathy blinked her eyes and suddenly snapped back to the cold harsh realities of the moment. There was no more Sam and she Was once again alone, pitted against the adversities of an indifferent world. It was just her and four bare, cold walls. And, if she didn't come up with the rent real soon, Mrs. Janeway wouldn't take anymore excuses. Out she would go.
Kathy bit her lower lip and began pacing the floor. There had to be a better way. What it was she still didn't know. Maybe she would call Wanda Miller. Wanda was one of her best friends. Her other best friend was Linda Gilstrom. Wanda didn't seem to work much. Maybe Wanda could cue her in on how to pay the bills without having a steady job.
Kathy wondered if maybe Wanda was a secret moll for a gang of bank robbers. She waved that away and laughed. Wanda was probably as short of cash as Kathy was. She would resent being asked about how and where she got her money. Linda seemed a better bet. Linda at least was working.
Kathy went to the refrigerator and took out an orange soda. She liked Shasta best of all. Opening the can, she drank thirstily. Kathy loved the way the bubbles bit as they went down her throat. Nothing like a cool soda on a hot day, she thought. Hot days could be killers. They parched your throat and left it full of dust. Lord knows, there's enough dust in Texas.
She wondered, every day almost, why she had left New York on the advice of her friend Linda Gilstrom. It was Linda who wrote her about how much better job prospects were in Houston than in New York.
"Lord," Kathy said to herself, "I should have been smart enough not to go and listen to her. Give this girl some brains, Lord." She finished the soda and threw the can away.
She knew now that listening to Linda Gilstrom was the damned stupidest thing Kathy had ever done in her life. Not treating her husband right had been another stupid thing.
Now, as she was going through the days of her twenty-ninth year, Kathy Eaton was beginning to see many of the mistakes she had been making. Her mother's words returned to her from thousands of miles and years away.
"You're never as smart as you think, honey. No one is. You grow older and look back and say, what a fool I've been. Then, you grow a bit older and look back at the time when you said you were a fool and realize, sadly perhaps, that you were still a fool while you were saying all those things."
Kathy clenched her fists and wished she had it to do all over again. But you never do. The past is gone. All we have is the present and future. And the present slips away even while you're looking at it. The present moves along with the hands of the clock, ticking away the hours of the day.
Shaking her head, she reached for a pack of Virginia Slims that was lying on the kitchen table, extracted a cigarette, lit it and paced the floor, smoking and thinking. But thinking did nothing. It just went away with the smoke of your cigarette. The next cool wind wiped away the lingering smoke and your thoughts. After that it was all a veiled gray dinginess. A week, ten days from now, she would not be able to remember a quarter of the details of today's thinking.
She stopped and stamped her left foot suddenly in frustration. What was the use of thinking? Thinking never moved mountains. It just gave you a big headache. And that did nothing but help the aspirin manufacturers.
As far back as she could remember Kathy had been thinking; thinking about this or that. And her problem was the same; always the same; not enough money or no money at all. It was a common enough problem. But, in the case of Kathy Eaton, it had become chronic.
Marriage had saved her from her mother's house, and for awhile had lifted the financial burden from off her back. Only now, the burden had returned. It was time to do something about it.
She took another puff of her cigarette, quickly exhaled a thick blue-white cloud of smoke, and thought with a smile that Linda Gilstrom always called Virginia Slims, Vagina Slims. They would talk about it over the phone and laugh and laugh.
Suddenly, Kathy snapped her fingers. Why not call Linda now and ask about a job? Linda was always getting work. Kathy knew that Linda was a party girl; a hostess at conventions and private parties. Maybe she could get Kathy a job as a waitress or even a clean-up woman. Kathy didn't care. It was a salary, a job. It meant money in the bank. Money to pay bills with. Money to pay off the utilities and the gas. Not being able to pay the utilities and having them turned off was the worst nightmare Kathy could think of.
Kathy could still remember the few times she had not been able to do anything, when her mother was unable to pay the bills, and the light and gas was shut off. At first they lit candles and thought it was all so romantic. But then, the costs went up, as candle followed candle. And tempers went up along with costs; as toes were stubbed in the dim, flickering orange glow of candlelight. Kathy never wanted to experience that again.
She stubbed out her cigarette and picked up the phone. Kathy dialed, put the receiver to her ear, and waited. There were three rings, then a fourth. Because of her tension they held an insistence they didn't really have, and which the person on the other end could not feel.
Finally, the phone was picked up. "Hello," a sultry, sexy voice said.
"That you, Linda?"
"Kathy?"
"Unhuh."
"How's tricks, baby."
"Do you have to talk like a hooker all the time, Linda?"
"Baby, every woman is a hooker. Either you do the hooking for your husband or for some man with the bread. Let's face it, a hooker fucks for money, but a wife fucks for goods and services."
"That's not true, Linda," Kathy said, getting a bit pissed by the tone of the conversation. Things were not going at all the way she had expected. The conversation was getting away from her, going in directions she didn't want it to. But Kathy had no choice. She didn't want to irritate Linda, from whom she would now have to ask a favor. And favors requiring jobs or money or both are the biggest favors one can ask.
Linda's sexy voice broke into laughter. The laughter sounded like chunks of ice tinkling into a very tall, frosted glass before the Scotch is added.
Then, Linda said, "baby, are you telling me that when you grabbed those ankles and spread those cheeks for Sam, you were doing it out of love all the time?"
"Of course not. Sometimes I didn't feel like it, but I did it anyway, because he wanted to."
"Then you were hooking, baby. You were doing it to make him happy. And you were making him happy because he was the man with the bread."
"No, no." Kathy didn't know what to answer. She was confused and irritated. "It wasn't the same. I loved him. I didn't want Sam to be irritated and to dislike me and not be pleased. I was just doing my wifely duties."
"Ha," Linda laughed. "You were hooking, baby, hooking plain and simple. The only reason you were sucking that big black one was to insure his good will. And his good will meant spending money, groceries, clothes, rent, utilities. And don't I know it. I was married too once, don't forget. As I said before, you were fucking for goods and services."
"Look, Linda, I want to talk to you about something else. Let's drop this subject for awhile."
"Fine with me, girl. If the heat is too strong for you we'll get out of the kitchen."
"I want a job, Linda. I've been having trouble finding work. To tell you the truth, I'm just about near the end of my rope. I've spent most of the money I have left and I'm getting pretty close to the poor house."
"Say no more, girl. You've come to the right place. I'll get you work. Now, before you say yes, do you know what kind of work I do?"
"You're a hostess. But that wasn't what I meant."
"What did you mean?" Her friend's voice was full of suspicion and hostility. For a second it put Kathy off, then she went on, plowing through snow, as it were.
"I need a job as a waitress, maybe a clean-up girl. I'll do anything. I need money."
"Did you say anything?"
Kathy hesitated a second, her mind filled with sudden suspicion. But this was her friend, so she plowed on. "Yes, I guess anything."
"Well, first, honey, there ain't no waitress jobs at these parties. I mean, they order food and drinks and such. The stuff is brought up by one of those small, jiffy catering firms. It's all placed on a side table, which serves as a buffet. Everyone takes care of himself."
"I see. What about a job as a clean-up woman?"
"The place where they stay usually takes care of that." Kathy hesitated, not knowing what to say, all her hopes dashed. A dozen different thoughts collided inside her head.
"I have an idea," Linda began, "but I don't know if you'll take to it."
Kathy listened, nervously licking her lips, realizing something was up, because Linda was using that coy tone of hers.
"I can get you work. But it wouldn't be the kind of work you might want. It's my kind of work; party girl work."
Kathy began breathing hard on the phone; spots flying before her eyes. "You there, girl? You listening to me?" Linda sounded worried.
"Yes, I'm listening. What kind of work is party girl work?"
"Good work. Great money. Seventy-five dollars for a night, a night that may not consist of more than six hours from start to finish. That's better than twelve dollars an hour."
"Doing what?"
"Being a party girl," Linda said with a laugh. "You talk to the guy, you drink with him, you dance, you give him a kiss, he gives you a kiss."
"What else?"
"Grow up, girl," Linda said suddenly, harshly. "You've been around, and I have, too. What the hell do you think happens when men and women get together?"
"I'm no prostitute."
"Neither am I," Linda said, biting offense in her tone. "This ain't no hooking assignment, like being married is. But if a guy starts pushing for a bit of ass a girl isn't expected to say no. It doesn't mean you have to go all the way. A good blow job will often do the trick. Some of these guys get loaded up with whiskey and can't do a thing. You know, the spirit is willing but the flesh is unable."
She started laughing over the phone. Kathy did not join her. She felt the receiver turn sticky in her hand. Her palms were sweating. There were beads of moisture on her upper lip.
"Are you listening, Kathy?"
"Yeah, I'm listening. Go ahead."
"If you're worried just latch onto one of those guys. And if someone virile gets hold of you, you just kneel down, lick those lips and chomp down on his meat." Her laughter again exploded across the phone. Kathy felt confused. Seventy-five dollars for six hours! Never in all her life had she imagined making that kind of money in so short a time.
"I don't know," she said again, her voice hesitant, not at all bold.
"Look, honey, you've got a good body, a damned good body. It's one of the best bodies I've seen. You wasted it on a marriage that didn't work. Now why don't you go and use that body to save your ass and make your life financially secure. Don't go depending on no man in a white suit coming along to sweep you off your feet and save you from all your troubles. That only happens in fairy tales. You want the good life, you got to make the good life. Now you coming or not?"
"I don't know," Kathy answered hesitantly.
"Well, decide then."
"I want to, but I'm afraid."
"Dear, if you don't take this job you're done for. Disaster is knocking at your door. You'd better make some money before disaster knocks that door down."
"I know what I am talking about. At worst you'll be doing no more or less than what you did with your husband."
Linda's voice suddenly brightened. "Look at the good side. You'll be getting juicy white cock. All you've had till now is black cock. And now you'll get white meat. It's sort of like going from chocolate ice cream to vanilla."
"I don't know. I still don't know. Let me think about it."
"Take your time, girl. Bye." Her friend hung up the receiver. Kathy looked at the receiver in her hand, then hung up, too. She went to watch some TV.
Two days passed. Things got no better, but they sure got worse. Her total spending money in the house was down to three dollars. She had enough food in the house to last three more days, and six more days on half rations. Mrs. Janeway had stopped her in the hall.
"I need at least fifty dollars on that rent, Miss Eaton," she said. "I've been patient, very patient, perhaps too patient. But I have bills to pay. I need at least fifty dollars of that rent you owe me. Fifty dollars by the end of the week, or I'll have to institute eviction procedures. Sorry." With that Mrs. Janeway lowered her eyes, feeling almost as bad about it as Kathy did, and walked off. Kathy fought to push back the big, salty tears that wanted to rush out of her eyes.
The phone rang in the late afternoon. It was Linda Gilstrom.
"Well, girl, you decided yet?"
"I don't know."
"It's now or never. I assume the wolf is a bit closer today than he was when last we spoke."
"You're right, there."
"Then you know how to keep that mean wolf from the door, don't you?"
"Yes." There was some tension as neither of them spoke. Then Kathy said, "Alright, put me down for one of those dates." She tried to smile, but could not dissipate the gloom which had gathered around her.
"Okay, baby," Linda answered. "You're down for tonight."
"Tonight!"
"Unhuh. Before this night is over you'll have seventy-five crisp ones in your hand. That's money to buy groceries with and other things. On other nights you'll make enough for the rent. What is your rent now?"
"A hundred-ninety-five a month."
"That's not high. It could be worse."
"It's high if you don't have it. Even fifty dollars is high if you don't have it," she said, thinking about what her landlady had said to her, realizing this was the only solution to her rent and other problems.
"Don't worry about it, Kathy. Your troubles are just about over. Now I want you to take a good long bath and hose out that pussy of yours. Make sure it's nice and clean. Those dudes like a clean pussy. A real clean pussy."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to use my pussy."
"You're not supposed to. But a girl can't tell what'll happen in life. This is just in case it does happen. Wear nice clean panties, tight slacks, a tight sweater, no bra. Those dudes like tits free and unfettered. They like to hold and grab."
Kathy nodded, half-numb, knowing what she was doing, not wanting to do this, yet seeing no other way out.
"I'll take you. Be outside, in front of your building at seven. Put on make-up. Bye." Linda hung up. Kathy kept the receiver to her ear, listening to the hollow sound, as if someone somewhere might still say something. Then she too hung up and went into the living room.
She stood in the living room a second, shaking her head in disbelief, trying to remember so many details that could not be remembered right at that moment.
It was late, she realized, no time for supper, and just time enough to get ready. She rushed into her bedroom, where there was a full-sized mirror over a nice dark bureau, and started to strip. She worked in a frenzy.
When Kathy Eaton was done stripping she stood in front of the mirror, staring proudly at the body nature had given to her, and which would now be used for shameful but infinitely profitable enterprises.
Her tits moved up and down with her breathing. They were large, full, creamy brown melons; topped by the darker bumpy surface of her areolas. Her nipples capped each breast like blunted dart tips; a rosy-brownish color; the surface lightly pitted.
She wiggled herself from side to side and watched her breasts sway, then come to a stop. Kathy knew any man's mouth would water at the thought of getting those nipples between his lips and his hands on her fine, silken-skinned, globes of heavenly delight.
Her shoulders were round and smooth, her neck long and silken, her chin pointy, but with the point smoothened down a bit. Her face was oval-shaped. Her skin glowed with vitality and was the same pleasant brown creamy color, as was her whole body.
She studied her sensuous, full-lipped mouth. Her lower lip was a bit thicker than her upper lip and gave her mouth that pouting quality so many men loved. With glistenting red lipstick across her full lips, Kathy knew she would be an irresistible sight for any man.
Her eyes were oval; two brown, glistening pupils in a sea of white. She had long lashes, thick brows, a wide, flat nose. On her, each feature was perfect.
In the last six months Kathy had taken to letting her lustrous black hair grow long and now combed it out so that it would look like Farrah Fawcett's hair style.
Her gaze dropped down her body, across the flat, round plain of her abdomen to her cuntal vee. It was a dark, lustrous patch, full of thickly grown kinky hairs. With her legs just a bit apart, the thick, dark pubic lips that led to her cuntal opening were evident. She dropped her hand to stroke them. Then her gaze fell across the wide, fleshy, but not fat thighs, which guarded the entrance to the portals. Her calves were firm and shapely, her ankles well turned.
Kathy did an about face and looked at her body in an over the shoulder gaze. She admired the long sweep of her smooth back; the points where her shoulder blades rose, the ripple of muscle and skin and the outline of underlying bones. Her eyes traveled down to the ripe swell of her buttocks. Kathy was proud of her ass. She considered it one of the high points of her figure. Her buttocks were wonderful, fleshy half globes, that met along her ass groove. With a smile she brought her hands back and pulled apart her cheeks to reveal the long sinuous groove of her ass and the puffed brown ring of her anus. Short black hairs grew along her groove, both above and below her anal ring.
She was good, good enough to bring happiness to many. Licking her lips, Kathy went to douche, shower, do her hair, and get dressed. She had an urgent appointment.