The Second Challenge
"Good work recruiting those new young studs," beamed Jenny, "I've had two of them already but the big one, Dashawn is it, I think I'm going to have to see what he's made of. Wish me luck!"
James smiled at Jessica's expression. He knew just what she was thinking. The young men she'd 'persuaded' to join the club were all just 18. Jenny was a bottle-blonde running to fat who looked like she wouldn't see 50 again.
He explained, "Just like we recommend female prospects, current and past Taylor girls get to recommend new male members for the Cock Pit. Word soon gets around. If a young Black man wants to reach the land of unlimited bareback fucking with the finest white pussy then it pays him to show Jenny and the others a real good time. It's a little reward for the girls' past services."
"Taylor girls..."
"What you'll be when, or if, you meet all your challenges. Which reminds me, you'll be picked up on Saturday afternoon at three. Dress real classy and real expensive. Talking of dress rules - what about Rule One."
Jessica swirled up her mid-length skirt to reveal her naked pussy.
"Passed that test," smiled James, "now go find yourself some fresh Black cock."
***
Jessica prepared herself carefully for her challenge on Saturday. She bathed and then lightly misted her body with her most expensive perfume. She wore a simple but extremely exclusive designer dress. It essentially left one shoulder and most of her back exposed. The ultra-sheer red material was kept in place by thin black sequined straps and stretched tight over her chest. It was not a dress that you wore a bra with. Besides, she was proud of her pert well-formed 30Ds and today she would enjoy showing them off. The dress was tight around her ass, clearly showing the curves of her buttocks, and then flowed loose down to just above her ankles. She wore modest heels and decided to wear her classic long black leather coat for travelling.
Her ride arrived on time and she easily identified it by the booming bass blasting out from the car's speakers. She looked in the window and hesitated - it was a man she didn't know. He asked, "Jessica?", and flashed a 'Cock Pit' card at her. She saw his picture, that month and the name 'Antwan'.
Antwan drove some sweet wheels and was well turned out himself. A well-cut suit jacket with a heavy gold necklace over his black shirt. His hand as he waved Jessica into the car showed a couple of heavy gold rings.
As soon as he had driven out of her neighbourhood Antwan turned down his radio to a background level, "Been to H-town recently?"
H-Town was the nickname for the neighbouring city, now largely connected by sprawling suburbia. H-Town had always been the poor neighbour and the decline of heavy industry hadn't been kind. While Jessica's city was fairly prosperous, with pockets of poverty, over there it was a ring of wealthy suburbs round a city that had just about managed not to go the way of Detroit, but only just. 'H-Town' referred to a major heroin epidemic that had hit the inner city there in the 70s just as the economy was headed down the pan and most of the whites were packing up to leave. 'H-Town' pretty much always referred to the inner city rather than the suburbs and Jessica somehow knew that she wasn't going to any nice leafy suburbs.
"Never been," she admitted, "you from there." "Born and bred," Antwan smiled, "my man Tyrone suggested I show you some sites over there."
'I bet,' thought Jessica.
It was a 2-3 hour drive to H-Town and Antwan spoke in his leisurely way most of the journey. He'd made a lot of money in 'retail' and 'import/export' until 'outside pressures' made it a good idea to quit that game. Jessica immediately thought 'ex-drug dealer' and then blamed her racist upbringing for making such an assumption. Antwan went on to say that he'd met Taylor who'd persuaded him to try new ventures just four months before his main competitors in 'the market' had each got twenty-to-life. 'Ex-drug dealer' thought Jessica and this time she didn't feel guilty about it.
Antwan had gone into 'entertainment'. 'Pimp?' thought Jessica. But no, Antwan had gone into clubs. Dance clubs and smaller swingers clubs. "Got establishments in every big city over four states," Antwan boasted, "not bad for a man just past 40. And every club, either weekly or monthly, has a 'Zebra night' for promoting racial harmony, know what I mean."
Jessica knew what he meant.
"At every club I got staff used to be with Taylor at the 'Cock Pit'. They manage or work bar or watch the doors - but as well as that they talent-scout. Taylor covers any deficit from running the 'zebra nights' and in return I send him women who're interested in what he does. To his Club down in the city if they're close enough. Otherwise I let them know what 'special activities' Taylor can lay on for them."
Jessica had only the vaguest notion what those 'special activities' were but she had a feeling she'd probably be finding out in due course.
"The other string to my bow is organising events for Spring Break, Fantasy Fest, etc. A real good earner and if you locate a 'zebra event' right you get plenty of talent showing up. Hook 'em up to my clubs or just let them know what the big city has to offer. Taylor won't take girls under 21 as prospects but it's surprising how many women contact him and say they first heard about him years back at Spring Break. Anyway, how'd you hook up with the folk over there?"
The journey passed pretty quickly as Jessica explained and then the two just chatted. Jessica found Antwan could be charming and very easy company. She wasn't naive - it was pretty clear that Antwan was not a man to cross. You didn't survive where he'd come from unless you could look after yourself. She liked the aura of self-confidence and authority which seemed to radiate from the man beside her.
To Jessica's surprise they stopped at a restaurant in one of the wealthier suburbs.
"Nothing up to scratch in the city any more so I figured we'd try here. Got a very good write-up in the 'Times'. You can leave the coat in the car."
That was an order rather than a suggestion. Jessica obeyed and enjoyed the smile on Antwan's face as he saw her outfit. The big man gave a slow nod and offered her his arm as they walked to the restaurant.
"Booked a table for Mr Dale Anstruther and guest," Antwan told the maitre d' as he studiously ignored the man's surprise at his appearance. The little man scampered off and Antwan nodded, "If I tried to book as Antwan the restaurant would be full but it's amazing what a nice white name can get you...Ah, here comes the Manager."
Another man hurried up and smiled smoothly. "Perhaps you would like to come this way, er, sir and we will make a table up for you."
"Make me up a little table by the john, no thanks, we'll take that empty table front-and-center. I understand that your food is first-class here."
"We are proud to say..."
"Good," Antwan fixed the manager with a baleful eye, "I'll hold you personally responsible for that, OK."
