Jessica's New Life

Thanks to everyone who has made encouraging comments on these stories. I'm enjoying writing them and hopefully you'll continue to enjoy reading them. A special thanks to MontanoIR for allowing me to borrow his character of Jackson Hammer for this story. I assume most of you are already reading 'Amy's Fascination.' I'd strongly recommend it for anyone who enjoys my stuff. Also special thanks to PenPal2001 - whose work I also strongly recommend.

Finding Out

Emily Szostek looked over at the trim little one-story house in a small well-kept garden. "You see", she said, "I told you this was an OK part of town."

Her husband, Phil, had insisted on driving her. He feared that Don Parsons probably lived in a run-down district, after all he was an African-American. He shrugged in reply to his pretty young wife. "Better safe than sorry honey. I know Don is OK but there might be gangs active around here."

Emily watched a little old lady walking a poodle down the street and laughed. "I think it's probably safe enough!"

Don had retired a month or so ago and the senior partner, Mr Rifkin, a crusty racist old fart, had refused to OK a retirement party for him. The older lawyers hadn't even wanted to take up a collection but some of the clerks and two or three younger lawyers had bought him a big-screen TV as a gift.

Jessica, Emily's best friend at work, had suggested that they deliver it to Don together but now Jess had been called away at the last minute. Apparently she was tied up again this weekend. Emily had noticed Jess seemed increasingly distracted recently. She knew she wasn't happy at work but sometimes she turned up looking and acting as if she hadn't slept at all. Then, there'd been that strange incident with the African-American guy outside the office. What had that all been about? You couldn't be too careful working for a firm like Rifkin and Harker. Fortunately, Emily was pretty sure she'd been the only one to notice that the guy and Jess had not only left at the same time but had actually seemed to leave together.

Phil wasn't the most romantic guy in the world and he could be a bit of an old woman sometimes but he WAS very useful in carrying the TV. Don's house was small but clean and tidy. Emily was used to seeing the newly retired security guard in his work uniform and for a moment it seemed strange to see him in his civvies. It seemed even stranger to hear him call her by her first name rather than 'Mrs Szostek.'

"Emily, it's so kind of you to come round today." He glanced at Phil, "Set the TV down, son." He gestured at a space by the door. "You know my old CRT set is about to give up the ghost so you couldn't have picked a better gift. Do love to watch my old movies. If I can get this set up I might watch 'Truck Turner' tonight."

"I can help you with that, no problem," gushed Phil. "This set can be part of a home cinema set-up. If you need any advice..."

Emily almost tuned Phil out as she looked round the room. Her husband did love his gadgets and his tech but he could be a bit of a bore about it. If Don didn't watch out he'd have him build a new house just so he could get the accoustics right.

"If you show me where the makings are I'll get us all a coffee," she told Don.

"Thanks, Emily. Kitchen's just over there - only got instant but that'll make it easy. Milk and one sugar for me. Damn, son, you did well to get a fine wife like that."

"What, oh I guess so," said Phil as he sorted out cables and equipment.

Emily blushed as she hurried into the kitchen. She wasn't really used to such compliments these days. Most of the time she operated in a very business-like atmosphere and Phil, well she knew her husband loved her but he didn't seem to show it as often as a girl might like. Before Phil she'd had plenty of compliments, of course. She was a cute blue-eyed blonde who filled out an outfit in all the right places so lots of guys had been ready to dish out the smooth talk if they thought it would get them a chance with her.

Emily quickly found all she needed and set the kettle to boil. While she was waiting she looked around her. There were five photographs on the walls of the dining room. One looked to be from the 1950s and was of an older couple - Don's parents probably. Another three featured a much younger Don. One with a group of men on a building site; another in uniform with a group of other soldiers; the last was his wedding photograph. She looked at Don's bride - a happy, pretty, young woman holding the arm of her handsome soldier-husband. The last photograph on the wall was of the same woman, perhaps twenty years older. She was still smiling but her face was deeply lined and the photograph had a black border.

You didn't have to be a trained lawyer to read Don's life story from those photographs. Emily wasn't nosy - just curious. Perhaps that was why she stayed when the kettle clicked off and she could suddenly hear the voice of Don from the other room.

...no, son, I mostly don't miss it one bit. Bunch of assholes working there. A few of the younger ones was alright but most of them used to look at me like I was something brown and nasty they'd trod on in their fine Italian shoes. Wouldn't give me the time of day and when I did something for them I didn't get no 'please' or 'thank-you' neither. Never known a worse brought-up, more ill-mannered bunch. All so far up their own assholes that..."

Emily stifled her giggle but she could hear her husband laughing. The senior staff of Rifkin and Harker were all impeccably-dressed, Ivy League-educated, corner-stones of the elite in the city and the country. Hearing Don's opinion of them was weird but, hand on heart, Emily couldn't say he was wrong.

"Shit, son, I'd have retired ten years ago if I had the money. Don't think I'd have made it anyway except for some of the younger folks coming in. Maybe I shouldn't say it..."

"That's OK, Don," Phil's quieter voice came through the door.

"Hmmn," said Don, "well, I'd have a shitty day and then Emily or her friend, Jessica, would come by and ask how I was or just say 'good morning' or give me a little smile. Damn but it don't take much from a beautiful woman like your wife to make a man feel REAL good. Sometimes they'd come over at the end of the day and shoot the breeze a little, you know. Used to look forward to that till Mr Clarke told Jess that she was embarrassing him and the firm by 'talking to the staff.'"

"Oh," said Phil, "that's weird." His voice was distracted and she wondered what setting on the new TV he was busy adjusting.

"No-one happier than me when she dumped him, except perhaps her," chuckled Don. "But through those few months your wife never stopped giving me a smile or a kind word. Made a big difference, I can tell you. Made me know I wasn't getting pushed out of there until I qualified for my full pension! Took some guts, she knew some of the top-floor didn't approve. Ain't no coincidence she organised this retirement gift or that she is delivering it. Top-Floor didn't give a shit that I'd been there 23 years. If my old friend Taylor hadn't thrown me a bash then I'd just have been kicked to the curb and that would have been that."

"I don't think Emily knew about that," said Phil, "I'm sure she'd have liked to have gone."

Don laughed a deep belly laugh. "Damn, I'd have loved her to have been there too. But it was a 'gentleman's evening' at one of Taylor's bars, you know what I mean. Just us guys and a very beautiful woman as my guest of honour. Anyway, I shouldn't say no more about that."

Don lived alone and like many folk that live alone once he started talking he sometimes found it hard to stop. But the fiercely blushing Phil had signalled to him that he might have said a little too much.

Emily was just putting the coffee out in the dining room when she heard the sound of a slightly tinny version of the 'Theme from Shaft.' She'd seen his phone on the table and now noticed its screen illuminated with the incoming call. Emily really wasn't nosy at all but when a screen lights up in front of you there's nothing more natural than to look.

On the little screen was a wallpaper image. Emily leaned in closer to see what it was and then suddenly realised. It was a laughing old African-American man with a naked white woman sitting on his lap and kissing his cheek. She'd barely registered that before she realised just who the two people were.

In an instant it all fell into place. Don's party, Jessica as his 'guest of honour', just what a 'gentleman's evening' was all about. She looked up and saw Don smiling at her as he led Phil back into the dining room for their coffee. Had he seen her look at the picture on the phone - if so he gave no sign.

Emily was quiet as the two men chatted over their coffee. When they were ready to leave she scampered out of the door but Don caught Phil by the arm. "Your wife is one in a million, son, she's out of the top draw. Beauty, brains and a heart. Any man should be proud to have her. You look after her and make sure she gets everything she needs and desires, you hear. My wife was everything to me and I hope Emily's the same for you." He gave Phil a little grin and a playful punch on the arm, "If you don't - I might be tempted to take her away from you."

Don had spoken low but Emily had heard him. 'Any man would be proud to have her'. What had he said earlier about her and his raunchy party. 'Damn, I'd have loved her to have been there too.' Would he have wanted a beautiful naked white girl on each knee? Would he have wanted even more than that? 'I might be tempted to take her away from you.' Had be been joking? Because if he wasn't joking that was scary and what was even more scary was the fact that she felt the unmistakable symptoms of arousal. Just thinking about this had made her pussy wet.

"That's a good model of TV we got him," said Phil. "I though he'd never shut up about you though. I think you've got a real admirer there," he laughed at the thought. Emily was quiet and stayed quiet all the way back to their nice safe suburb.

All Men Aren't Born Equal

"A little different to last time," chuckled Antwan.

Jess smiled back. "Just a bit."

They were in Boca at Spring Break, occupying the best suite at one of the hotels in the resort. "No need for us to slum it," purred Antwan, "and I figured you deserved a treat or two after last time."

Last time. When he'd taken her to some of the roughest dives she'd even seen and calmly supervised her self-defilement. Well, at least, that's what they would have called it where she came from. Except now, to Jessica, it didn't feel that way - it just seemed as if it had been one of many steps necessary to break down the carapace of prejudice and fear that had been trapping her true self inside it. It had been drastic and it had been very scary for a time but it HAD been necessary. Once she'd been to H-Town with Antwan then she had known that she was capable of almost anything - a thought first terrifying and then wonderfully empowering.

"Everyone else is out working hard at publicising your parties," pointed out Jess.

Antwan smiled. Self-confidence was a trait of most of the Black men that Jessica had got to know in her time as a prospect but Antwan was perhaps the market leader in it. He just exuded that confidence and authority that she liked in her men. When Antwan entered a room everyone noticed. When he spoke everyone listened. When he wanted something then he got it.

Just now he'd got Jessica and it seemed he had plans for her. "Time for you to see some sights and for me to show off the finest bitch in Boca."

***

Outside their hotel the streets were full of young people, most contributing to a constant hum of noise. Jess liked seeing them enjoy themselves but she was aware that the man with her was one of the very few non-white faces there. No-one gave them any shit but it was still very noticeable.

"We walking to Boca West, only a small distance but you might notice some differences."

The first thing she noticed was a small area of empty road, very obvious after the rush of humanity outside their hotel. "Private residences here," explained Antwan, "no hotels. There ain't nothing written down but its always been that way."

Through the 'no-party zone' and Boca West had an appearance much like its parent resort. Streets full of young people enjoying themselves, laughing and drinking. The only difference, as she had sort of guessed, was that now SHE was in the very visible minority. It was a sea of thousands of Black faces, not all the really dark skins that she had come to regard as the epitome of attraction but all dark enough to have been called the n-word by her daddy.

Antwan had exuded confidence among the white boys and girls but Jessica felt much more self-conscious surrounded by young African-American men and women. A lot of that was probably down to the bikini that Antwan had picked out for her. She was wearing that and nothing else except the heavy layers of sun-protection that Antwan had insisted on applying personally to every inch of her pale skin.

It quickly became very apparent to Jess that she was drawing a lot of attention. Some young women viewed her with clear hostility, especially if their man took too long a look at her body. However, the presence of Antwan seemed to reassure most of them. It was just a playa showing off his white bitch and not a real threat to them.

The groups of young women ignored her. They had other matters in hand. The groups of young men were another matter entirely. Sometimes one of a group would be braver than the rest and shout out to Antwan about his 'fine bitch' or his 'prime pussy'. The comments always seemed to be addressed to her companion and never directly to her. It was still pretty early and no-one was drunk enough to risk stepping on the territory of an obvious alpha-male like Antwan. Not yet.

Sometimes Antwan would smile at a particularly brash spring breaker and encourage him. "That's right, dog, I got the best in white pussy. Feel free - enjoy the view." Then he'd guide her into the group and she'd see the smiling faces and the hungry eyes all focused on her. Sometimes a warm hand would fondle her butt-cheek but Antwan kept things under control.

"You want white pussy? I got events Friday and Saturday at the River, that's the first club into Boca - right next to the Grand Hotel. All the premium white pussy you can handle and more - try your luck at catching one as fine as mine." Then Antwan re-asserted his possession of Jessica by kissing her deeply and slipping a large hand down the front of her bikini bottoms. Where they'd previously seen a pretty obvious camel toe they now saw a swiftly moving finger. If they hadn't been whooping and cheering so much Jessica knew they'd have heard just how turned on she was.

After a few similar events Jessica said, "I get it - we're recruiting again and I'm the bait."

Antwan chuckled, "Catch a lot of fish with the right bait. You know I got twenty white girls out in Boca - I also got twenty Black guys working over here. All ID'ing spring breakers who might be interested in the zebra experience - white and black together. My system works - all the girls out there now were attracted to the same event last year or the year before. Most of them will end up as clientele of my clubs or similar establishments. A few will even follow your path once they're old enough - Taylor don't deal with no girls under 21."

He strode on - the crowd of revellers seeming to part in front of him. He was watching the people around them but also obviously on the look out for something else. Finally he saw an excited crowd outside a low structure like a beach hut. "At last, there he is - I want you to meet someone Jess."

Jessica walked across hand-in-hand with Antwan. Just going out recruiting young Black bulls for the parties had seemed to her pretty tame for an afternoon with this particular Black man. This might be the real cause of their visit and promised to be interesting. The sun was hot and she was perspiring but she knew that the moisture causing her bikini bottoms to cling so tightly to her pussy lips was for a very different reason.

At first it didn't look much. Apart from anything else she couldn't see over the crowd of excited young African-Americans, most of them female. Antwan, being a foot taller than her, could see the focus of the attention and called out, "Hey, Jackson, what's this year's vintage like?"

The youngsters near them turned to see who had spoken and again the herd instinct of a crowd opened a gap for the men of authority to conduct their business.

Jackson was a very powerfully-built and very dark-skinned man seated on a big armchair pulled next to the beach. He wore a pair of loose white jogging pants and a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to show a muscular and tattooed torso. His biceps bulged as he held on each knee a giggling Black Spring Break girl. Hearing Antwan he smacked one of the girls on her big round booty making the flesh jiggle. "Ripe and juicy, Antwan, ripe and JUICY. You ever seen finer? Just about fell in love with these two." Was he talking about both of the girls or just the firm round buttocks of the one he had slapped - that wasn't quite clear.

Jessica found him VERY attractive. He was handsome, dark and had that obvious presence that she loved so much in her men. But she was also struck by the fact that she was sure that she recognised him. She knew that she hadn't met him before but something about him was extremely familiar.

One of the girls posed for a picture on the man's knee and then hopped off to rejoin her giggling friends. With un-erring accuracy his freed hand came round to land on the ample right breast of his remaining girl. "Friends, I got to take a lunch break and talk to my friend here. I'll be back at two to meet a lot more of you and sign anything you like. The merch counter will stay open for all your needs."

The crowd dispersed and Antwan and Jess stood back while the man finished his business with the girl on his knee.

"Don't take nothing but the finest bitches for my vids - personally self-selected. You know why people watch my work - because me and my girls always have that spark, that real connection. Just the sorta real connection that me and you got the moment we met. You take my card and give me a ring. I'll be coming by your part of the country before long and we'll hook up. It'll pay for your trip here and I pay double if you let your face be shown."

He seemed to have selected his target well. "What else you gonna give me if I agree to this?" she giggled. The man stood and placed her in front of him. He looked down at the bulge in the front of his pants. "Care to feel just what you'll be getting and just how hot I think you are..."

The girl's brown hand disappeared down the front of his loose pants. She immediately encountered what she was seeking and her eyes widened. "OH MY GOD," she blurted out, "you're HUGE. I always thought them toys they sold was bullshit but you the real deal. Is it..."

"What, sweet thing?" he encouraged.

"Well my old boyfriend always said real big men couldn't get hard all the way."

"Does it feel like I have any problem getting hard?" he answered confidently. "That's why I'm the best in the business. Ring that number and you'll keep me rock-hard all day while we making love. You owe yourself to find out just how good I'm gonna make you feel."

Now Jessica knew who he was. It was Jackson Hammer. Black porn actors didn't cross over into the mainstream easily but this man had come closest. She had seen articles on him and his website and had watched some TV and films where he had made small cameo appearances. He was generally cast as a lovable rough diamond on the edges of legitimate society. The sort of man that made the mothers of pretty daughters real anxious, The sort of man with that subtle combination of danger and charm that made him so irresistible to a certain sort of girl.