When he dreamed, he was an old man. He looked past his grey beard down his old body. His arms were restrained, covered in needle marks from years of heroin use. Masked white faces floated around him, poking and probing his body, holding long needles. Thirty years before when he was in his prime, he would of fought his way out of the room. One blow of his hand to the bridge of a nose would of sent splinters of bone into his captors brain, killing him instantly, but years of living on the street addicted to booze and drugs had destroyed his nervous system. "I think his hairs growing back," said a voice. "What if C ends up like A or B?" "You can't have an omelet without breaking some eggs, besides there's plenty more homeless people out there."
Solomon sat up in bed, sweat dripping off his nude body. "What's wrong," said the soft feminine voice of "what's her name," her dainty little white hand running down his chest towards his cock. Solomon shrugged her off and got out of bed. He should of expected the dreams, he always had them on his birthday. Solomon stood before a full length mirror and admired his body, his chest, his muscles, his giant cock and balls. His cock started growing as he looked at himself. "Please come fuck me again," said the girl in his bed. Solomon obliged her.
********************
Angela slid open the door of the van and stepped out into the parking lot. Captain Braddock quickly closed the door behind her. She was going into this unarmed and she was nervous without the familiar weight of the gun on her hip. She was completely dependent on Braddock for protection and she didn't like that. All she had for protection was a couple of knock out drops in case Solomon got too frisky. She decided she didn't like undercover work all that much.
"Testing, testing, Angela can you hear me," said Braddock's voice in her earpiece.
"I read you loud and clear sir," she replied.
After the photo-shoot, Angela had changed and gotten out of the warehouse. Before she did though, she grabbed the champagne glass from the set. She wanted that drug analysed. The damn thing had lowered her inhibitions enough that she had sucked off a black man and almost let him fuck her. The contents were being analysed at that moment.
Angela had ran home to tuck Maria in bed and told her husband she'd be late. Then she had gone to the mall to by some a sexy outfit to wear that night. She needed something that would attract attention to herself.
She had settled on a short black leather skirt, and a white halter top that left her fit stomach bare. She had decided against a bra. It was a cold night and her hardened nipples would attract a lot of attention.
She looked over at the Zebra club. The building was across the river in New Jersey and she and Braddock were well out of their jurisdiction. The Zebra club was actually two strip bars in one. The right side featured nude male dancers. It was the only male dance bar in the area and was patronized mostly by white wives and young girls having bachelorette parties. The dancers were almost all black and rumor had it, very well hung. The second bar was just the opposite, black patrons and white women dancers. It was a very volatile mixture, the police were called out several times a week to stop some drunken black man from assaulting a white woman, and on the other hand plenty of women had wandered into the other club after seeing the male dancers for the first time. Many babies had been conceived in this parking lot.
Angela put one high-heeled foot in front of the other and slowly walked over to the entrance. The two black bouncers were some of the biggest men she had ever seen. One held the door open for her and said, "If you don't find what you want inside, I'll gladly give it to you out here."
Angela smiled at him and entered the building. It was a crowded evening, probably close to a hundred black men were staring at the two stages. Two attractive white girls that barely looked eighteen were dancing around poles on the stages. The black men in the audience weren't alone either, around two dozen white women were sitting in black laps around the room. Some looked like sluts, others like out of place housewives. Their expressions saying they didn't know what they were doing there, but then they weren't heading for the exits either.
Slowly one by one, heads turned towards her as the black men noticed her. She made her way through the crowd smiling and politely rejecting offers to join them. The room smelled of booze, sweat and she detected the hint of marijuana in the air as she headed over to the bar and ordered a mineral water.
"I got that," said a voice behind her.
Angela rolled her eyes and turned around ready to reject another offer. Her partner was smiling down at her.
"Well, well, what do we have here," said James. "Your just about the last person I expected to see here."
"James I..."
"Don't tell him," said Braddock in her ear.
"What are you doing here?" she responded.
"I come here to hang out with some home boys from the old neighborhood and to stare at naked white women. By the way that's some outfit you got on," he said leering at her breasts straining out against her halter top. "Now what are you doing here?"
"Don't tell him officer, you could blow your cover," said Braddock.
"I'm meeting some friends for a girls night out and must have wandered into the wrong bar," she replied.
"Well you've wandered a long way from the entrance for a girl in the wrong bar, said James. "Plus, we've been partners for two years now, I know when you're lying and I know an ear mike when I see one."
"Damn," said Braddock.
"Where can we talk alone?" asked Angela.
James grabbed her hand and hauled her over towards the bathroom where she filled him in on the mission. "I wanted to include you, but Braddock was worried some of the cops might be on the take."
"Thanks Captain," said James into her ear. "Well like it or not you just got some additional back up."
"Thanks James," she said kissing his dark cheek. "I knew I could count on you. You packing?"
"Always."
"Good now lets go find Solomon King."
"That's easy," said James. "his party is at the big table by the second stage.
James went back to his friends, but positioned himself where he could keep an I on her as she approached Solomon's table. She saw him immediately, the giant black man was one of the most recognizable people in New York City. Solomon was very large and handsome. He had a completely shaved head expect for a devilish moustache and goatee.
Solomon King sat at a table with about a dozen other black men, all wore expensive, well-tailored suits, shoes, and Rolex watches. A massive, grossly obese black man stood a few feet behind Solomon arms folded across his chest keeping an eye on the crowd. The men seemed to radiate, wealth, power, and confidence.
"Gentlemen, I think my date problem has just been solved," said a deep voice coming from the table. Angela turned to see Solomon King smiling at her as he rose up from the table and approached her.
The other men turned to stare and she sensed twelve pairs of eyes undressing her. "My name is Solomon King," said Solomon holding out his hand.
"Angel," she replied shaking his hand.
"I know, since your obviously from heaven," he said gripping her hand and not letting go. "How would you like to join me and my associates?"
"I-I'd love too," she replied finding his physical presence a little overwhelming. Solomon pulled her over to his table and sat her down on his lap.
"So Angel, what brings you to a place like this?" "I d-don't really know," she replied caught off guard by the question.
"I know," said Tyrone sitting a couple seats from Solomon. "Miss Angel happens to be my newest model. She did her first layout with Mark today. He must have gotten her curious about black men." The whole table laughed.
"Well lucky me," said Solomon. "I was just telling my boys here, how lonely it was not having a date on my birthday."
"Well happy birthday," said Angela. "How old are you?"
"Seventy," he replied, she looked confused and he added, "That was a joke."
She laughed politely, not getting it, but then none of the other men had laughed either. He was thirty-five at the oldest.
She sat on his knee for the next half hour listening to the black men laugh and joke. Solomon bought her several drinks and as the men kept proposing toasts to him, she found herself drinking a little more then planned.
The music suddenly turned up, blaring, "Hey Big Spender," out of the speakers and all eyes suddenly turned to the closest stage. A beautiful oriental girl came on stage dressed like a gangster and carrying a fake tommy gun. Angela lost sight of her as men started crowding the stage to give her tips.
Solomon shifted Angela from his knee to his lap and she felt a very hard, very large cock pressing against her crotch, she figured her leather skirt must be making it seem larger then it was, but her pussy immediately began lubricating at the thought of a cock even bigger then Mark's had been. It embarrassed her that her body was reacting like this.
A pretty little foot in a high-heeled sandal startled Angela and she looked up. The Asian girl had stepped off the stage and onto their table. The music had changed to gangsta rap and she was skillfully walking around the table top as Solomon's associates stuffed twenties and fifties into her garter.
