Life Is Good
Lavon Crawston closed down his tablet and placed it onto his table. Then he moved across to his sofa and let himself almost fall into its padded comfort. It felt real good.
He was in an exceptionally good mood. His system was putting out some fine old-school funk. Just the sort he'd grown up on and definitely the groove that he really went for. This new urban stuff was fine but it just wasn't his preference. He heard enough of it down the club, heavy bass rhythm and rap vocals. He had no problem with it but some variety would be good. One day he'd asked the guy who owned the place about it. Man by the name of Antwan - down there on one of his regular visits to see his high standards were being maintained.
Lavon figured he was a good judge of people. He had a strong feeling that Antwan was on his side of this particular musical divide. He was a few years younger than Lavon but the man was smooth. Had to be to have the premium lawyer pussy he had back home. Let alone to be right-hand man to Mr Taylor. Because if Lavon reckoned he was a good judge of folks then he was for damned sure that Mr Taylor was.
So he'd asked Antwan and the man had just smiled at him.
"You can work it out my man."
Lavon guessed it had been obvious. "The young guys all wanting it?"
Antwan just shook his head and Lavon realised his mistake.
"The ladies wanting it?" The club's female clientele tilted real white and not a bit suburban. Not really the gangsta demographic but in that split-second he understood.
The woman and girls didn't come down there for what they could get at home. Back in the neatly-manicured suburbs or the small towns they'd left to come to the big city. They came for what they needed real bad but couldn't get at home. They loved that contrast. The music was part of it. Told them they were in another world - a world where they could express themselves to the full. Where they could be who they really were. In many cases, at least at first, that meant they wanted it as 'street' as street could be. They wanted the music, the fashion, the ghetto phrases and attitudes. Because if you were a white woman at one of Antwan's clubs then you weren't no tourist. You were there to be desired, to be pursued, to be claimed by a Black man.
Those were the women that came to a club like Antwan's. Most of them had white boys back home, husbands or boyfriends. But those white boys weren't up to the job of satisfying their women. They put a ring on it and then thought their job was done. They lapsed into routine, into boring normality, into seeing their lover as some kind of personal servant for the cooking and cleaning.
That was no way to treat a fine piece. A man needed to make sure she knew how sexy she was, how much he wanted her. She had to know that her man wanted her for who she was - a unique, beautiful, desirable woman. She knew that and she wasn't going to be straying but them white boys just couldn't seem to catch on to that. Which suited him and Antwan just fine. Because some of them fine pieces who weren't getting their due at home would find their way to the perfect place for getting just the attention they was wanting.
So if the girls wanted their music as 'urban' and as 'ghetto' as possible then that was just fine. All part of the process. Give the girls what they wanted and soon enough they'd be reciprocating. Everyone was a winner.
Tonight he wasn't at the club so he could let his preferred sound fill his apartment. He didn't need to be setting no mood tonight. Tonight's visitor knew just exactly what she was coming for. It was every two weeks but it wasn't routine. There was always a clock on his girls - soon they'd be leaving the college to make their way in the world. Meant a man didn't take them for granted, it meant he made sure to give them all his attention every minute that he had them.
It was moving on towards the end of the school year now. Another turn-round of tenants. How many more times would he see tonight's visitor? After tonight maybe two. He felt a familiar twinge of regret but just that little stronger than he had in previous years. This year had been a fine crop. The only pity was that sweet blonde dime Rachel had only come with a few weeks to go. Had she been with him from the start of the year he knew that she'd have been coming down and knocking on his door. He 'd seen it in her eyes sometimes when he talked with her, heard it in her voice, known what was in her soul.
You couldn't get a more blue-blood looking girl than Rachel but old Lavon was a man of discernment and experience. He knew how Rachel looked at him sometimes when she didn't think he was watching. He also knew she'd been asking some of his other girls about him. He knew the signs.
Lavon felt the stir in his pants. Damn but that girl was fine. If he'd had another couple of months, maybe just one, she'd have been down here for sure. Knocking on his door and then finding out just what was tenting his shorts. Turn that girl's world upside down because once she'd tasted the forbidden fruit then there was no way she'd ever go back to white-bread. Lavon knew that without question. That sweet blonde piece could be the poster girl for, 'Once they go Black they never go back.'
Still there it was. Man couldn't have everything. If he caught every fish there'd be no fun in the sport. He could not complain about this year. This year had been one to remember.
Lavon again had a thought that had come into his mind a few times recently. It was in the nature of things that his tenants were anywhere from twenty to twenty-three years old. He wasn't anywhere near seeing forty again. There'd come a time when he should hand over the reins - pass on the responsibility.
It happened that he knew just how he could do that. His old service buddy had kept telling him to come down to the Caribbean where he'd been developing a resort catering to adventurous young professionals. Spend the winters down there and from what CeeJay said the white tail came a-flocking and all a man had to do was pick and choose. Fresh prime pussy every week. Completing that Caribbean holiday experience for CeeJay's visitors.
It was mighty enticing. Especially round about November when the wind began blowing cold and when the first snows were falling. However, it wouldn't mesh with his landlord duties here. Every year he let loose into the world maybe five or ten fine white girls who'd come to understand that true sexual satisfaction came in only one color, just like that old bastard Henry Ford's Model T. He liked to think of all the young brothas out there who got to enjoy the graduates of his little finishing school. It was a responsibility, an important job that needed to be done.
So that'd been a problem without a solution until his sister Marcy had come to him about the boy. Well, hardly a boy anymore. Hard to think of his nephew's friend as a big strong twenty-five year old man. He still remembered DeShawn in short pants!
He'd always been a good kid until he got himself in with the wrong crowd. Nothing too serious but he'd still been lucky not to earn himself a worse record and a longer spell away. First offense and a plea deal got it down to a misdemeanour but it could easily have been worse. While he was away his mom, Marcy and Lavon had got together to discuss him. The Taylor Foundation had found him a place at technical school, learning building maintenance. The course had been Lavon's suggestion - just like the fact he'd found him a job at a bar run by another friend of his, Theo. A bit of bar work, a bit of security, a bit of helping out the caretaker there on maintenance.
Credit to the boy he'd seen sense and got his head down. Learned his lessons, formal and informal. His daddy had been in the wind before he could talk so he'd needed a good role-model and Theo had been the perfect choice. He was a man like Antwan. Smooth exterior hiding steel underneath. It'd rubbed some of the rough edges off the boy - some of the posing he'd learned on the corners. Given the nature of the bar it'd also opened DeShawn's eyes to the world that his uncle, Theo and Antwan operated in. According to Theo he'd took to it like a duck to water - made himself real popular with the girls there. Lavon smiled just thinking about it. Those girls would have taught DeShawn plenty about what a woman needs and how to provide it. Same as he and CeeJay had learned from them sweet pieces in Estonia. In the end pleasing a woman just came natural, you could instinctively know real soon just what they were needing. The benefits of experience they called it.
There was a little of his mom in DeShawn but mostly he looked like his maternal grand-father. He also bore a certain resemblance to a younger Lavon. Other folks saw it more than Lavon himself did but he had to admit there was something there. Anyway every time he met DeShawn he was more and more convinced that one day, when the time came, he'd be the man to take over. There was just one doubt in his mind. Something a little difficult to settle but which had to be known for sure before any change was made. He had responsibilities after all.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
Lavon's mind was brought back to the here and now by the knocking on his door. He glanced up at his clock and saw that she was right on time. Damn but he'd been day-dreaming for twenty minutes!
He opened the door and there she was, that mischievous little grin on her face. As soon as he was there she adopted a more serious expression but her eyes were still full of joy and excitement.
"I've come to pay the rent Lavon."
Oh fuck. Try as he might old Lavon could never quite decide who he liked best. The redhead Bethany was amazing, Sarah had really come into her own once she'd dumped that white wankster of hers, Lisa had a fucking amazing body and Corinne, well she'd been just like his private dancer. A naked lap dance from her was something else! Then there was Rachel, ah Rachel...
But could he say that he preferred any of them to Britney? Fuck - all he knew was that just stood there she could set his blood pumping. She was only 5'3 but a little fucking dynamo. Brunettes weren't usually his preference but damn it just looked so right on her and her eyes were an amazing deep brown. Expressive and joyous and made a man feel real good to look into them. She wasn't no slim piece like Bethany or Rachel. The girl was kinda chunky but man those curves were something else. It all made for a body to catch the attention of any man with a pulse and discernment. Something around 34DD up top, all natural and all fucking perfection. But the real prize was that whooty. He'd seen a lot of girls who claimed one but none fitted the bill like young Britney. When she turned she fair took a man's breath away. Any brotha see that and not get hard then he should just put his cue in the rack and retire. Talking of which...
Britney
