Pharaoh

In the lobby that night I took Willy by the lapel of his jacket and led him three blocks to a cozy French bistro recommend by the concierge. No way was I going to sit in the big hotel restaurant and get gawked at by everyone, especially not while dining with Willy. I had some hope that the more intimate setting would help keep him in line.

He took the opportunity of our walk to review the fundamentals of his dress. Of course the kilt, even I knew about those. But the dress kilt shirt, argyle jacket, sporran, belt and buckle, kilt hose, ghillie brogues, and kilt pin were new to me. I must admit it was rather interesting, a truly handsome outfit. I was dressed in tan slacks, white shirt and a light sports coat. We made quite a pair.

Willie was perturbed when the waiter told him with a grin they were all out of haggis. Next he tried mutton. No luck. Cullen skink? The same. Finally he agreed to Lamb-Shank a la Francaise. When it was served he scraped off the sauce and made do. I had a salad and a veal dish.

Willie began by telling me he wished I had listened better, that I would be better off if I'd taken his advice. But that he would still, as a good and faithful friend, root for Alicia.

"Listened to what Willie? What advice?"

"Ye dinna ken it were a warning?" Willie shoveled in a bite of his lamb and made a face.

"Warning? What warning?"

"At th' pub that nicht ye dolt," he said with exasperation.

"Oh, that."

"Laddie. Ah lik' ye. Ah alway hae. Ah ken ye think Willie is streenge. Bit ye wur ur guid laddie ta mae."

"Thank you Willie." Willie was spooning the French vegetables to the far edge of his plate.

"Bit Alicia wis ne'er th' lassie fur ye. Didint ye ken that's whit ah wis telling ye?"

"Well, you had a funny way of saying it."

"Ah ken that. Willy's English kin be raucle. But ne'er tak' a lassie oan th' rebound. Ne'er tak' a lassie wha gaed oan exemption wi' anither jimmy."

"I know that now."

"Ye'r a gentle sould mah mukker. Yi''ll need a sweet 'n guide lassie, a pure tough lassie, a lou'in lassie."

"Willy. You've hit it. And I think I've got her, got just the girl."

So then I told him about Stony, about falling in love, about falling for her head over heels, about my plan to divorce and about getting married and moving away. He listened then, actually listened. I wouldn't have believed he could do it.

"Guid god, ye'r wey ahead o' Willie."

"For once."

He asked a few questions about Stony and nodded his approval with each answer. I showed him her high school graduation picture and another of her on the job at Roger's. I told him about Arlene and how much she and Stony loved each other despite the bickering. I told him she made me a better man, a better person. He smiled and hummed his satisfaction. Suddenly we were friends again. Willie reached across for my hand and held it tight. A tear was in his eye. We were finishing up dinner, at peace together at last.

Willie ordered us each a glass of the 25 year old Macallan to toast. By now I was leery of toasts, but I couldn't insult my friend by refusing. We clinked glasses.

"Mah scots blessing then oan th' twa o' ye laddie. Kin joy 'n' peace surround ye baith, contentment latch yer door, 'n' pure happiness be wi' ye noo, 'n' god bless ye evermore."

Willie drained his scotch in one gulp.

"Thank you Willie," and I sipped down about a third. It was fierce, just like my girl. I liked it.

"Please pass it oan tae yer freish lassie, yer wee Stony."

"Do my best, Willie."

Willie looked at my glass. "Urr ye aff tae finish that?"

I took another small sip and handed the glass over. Willie drained it. We shook hands, He paid the bill and we left arm in arm. The Scots were with me, with us, now.

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****Tuesday, September 3, 2304***

When I was allowed in the door at 2:16 p.m., Alicia was seated at her dressing table, touching up eyeliner. She was lovely.

She got up and we embraced. I could tell she knew.

"Alicia I really don't want to upset you now in any way, but it's time."

"I know."

"I'm sorry but it just is."

"I know."

Each of us waited for the other to speak.

"What was that nonsense from your Dad, that role-playing thing?"

"I knew it wouldn't work. Told him it wouldn't. It was his idea and he insisted. You know how he gets."

"That I do."

Alicia sat back down and started working on her eyes again.

"So I hear you have a new girl," she said as casually as she could.

"Yes. Stony Montague. From work. She and I are going to get married and move away. You'll get 47% of everything. OK?"

"I remember Stony. Met her that once at Roger's cookout last summer. Very cute girl."

"Yes."

"I hope you two are happy."

Satisfied with her eyes, she put the pen down and turned to me. We had an awkward pause, then Alicia said, "Briana? She knows?"

"She's part of this. She's been a good friend to me. And she knew before me. That thing on the phone was just the last straw."

Alicia sighed. "She hates me too then."

"No, I don't think so, not really. But I doubt you two are ever going to be best friends. You'll have to figure that out after all this is done."

She sighed again and leaned into the mirror to check her lipstick.

"I know for sure I don't hate you, Alicia. I'm just sad how it ended."

Maybe I shouldn't have said the word "sad". Alicia started to cry, the work on her eyes was going to be ruined.

"But I hope, I feel like I know, that you'll do well tomorrow. After that you can get any man you want, even an upper."

She sniffled out a "Maybe," and then an, "Oh, Jeff."

"No. You'll do well. I've want you to be confident. Remember how confident you got for White Girl? You need that now. This is what you've dreamt of."

"I'll do my best." She was drying her eyes.

There was nothing else to say. I had to get out of there. I ended with, "Good luck Alicia." I hugged her again and turned to leave.

At the door she called to me.

When I turned she was crying hard, her face now a total mess. "Jeff. I just want to say I'm sorry, I really am. And that, in my own way, I tried to be a good wife for you. I know I fucked up our marriage, but I did love you. I really did."

"Yes. We both did."

I returned to her and we embraced for the last time. I kissed her cheek as the tears streamed down. I turned, and this time I really did leave.

I had to walk the mean streets of Cleveland alone for a few hours to decompress, to let it go, to experience what it is like to be filleted. I cried just a little. The walking was good for me. My nose was fine. Then I saw a bunch of kids playing in the park. Eight or nine of them, maybe 10 years old, boys and girls together, kicking a ball and tumbling and laughing and shouting. I watched them for twenty minutes and each minute made me feel better than the last. A cure? Maybe not but close enough. Now I was able to call my girl.

I checked in with Stony, both of us relieved, both of us excited. I told her about the Alicia part and about the kids too. She told me about her conversation with Arlene. We'd done the best we could. Another couple of days and we'd be gone.

I ate alone in my room and got to bed early.

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***Wednesday, September 4, 2304*****

As I said after WGPD I don't need to tell you much the actual event, about our Pharaoh-Wednesday. You were all there, or you saw it live. You were all part of the celebrations for my wife. She was still my wife then. You saw her cry. You saw their first hug. You saw her being gracious to Liz and to Elsie. You saw her get on the plane with Quentin, our Pharaoh. You saw how cute she was at the plane door. You saw his big hand on her ass as they turned to wave. You saw how radiant she was. You watched as they left for Tahiti.

You saw Quentin's decision and how and how he took possession of my wife. You saw it all.

And this time there aren't any crazy stories about riots, or about how I sat with Stony and Bri, or how I was starting to fall in love with them both. Stony most of all. There's just aren't any stories.

Sam wanted me up front in the cheering section but I shrugged her off and sat in the very back.

I knew all the way through that Pharaoh would choose her. We could all tell in the first 10 minutes that the upper-uppers down front were totally against Elizabeth. Some of Pharaoh's friends were signaling to him with their hands about Liz's tits, but the uppers gave only polite applause to the things she said, and after that the friends seemed to turn against her too. Was it Mogumbo? Who knows, but it was real.

Elsie was tougher. She performed well over the first half of the show. The uppers and Pharaoh friends seemed to like her about the same as they liked Alicia. But when Elsie screwed up her answer to the capital of Delaware, a question that surprised us all, when she said Tucson, and then corrected herself and said "maybe Boise?", and when Alicia nailed it right after that, the table was set. Turned out Quentin was a rabid Delawarian, proud, perhaps excessively so, of his home state. Naturally he'd want a girl who at least knew the basics.

Then Elsie screwed up the answer to the color of her panties and it was all but over. Somehow she'd forgotten what all of us in the audience could plainly see. A very pretty pink. Elsie said, "sky blue" and the uppers all laughed. Then the laughter died down and Alicia got to score again. She knew hers were a soft yellow; the uppers murmured approval of her choice. Quentin immediately said yellow was his favorite panty color, and was she wearing the matching bra? Well, duh! (although I mean no disrespect), and it gave my wife an opening to discuss her panties and bra in greater detail (sheer triangle cups, lace fringe, little red heart between, sheer panties, veered off to her keyhole, matching red heart right over the sweet spot, etc).

Not once but twice did Alicia turn to the uppers while the other girls spoke to do a subtle tongue flash. Worked to perfection. The friends of Pharaoh saw it too and mimicked blowjob in his direction. We all knew he was sold and I was happy for her.

Stony immediately texted, "God she was awesome." (thumbs up emoji)

Bri texted "I gotta admit it. She was awesome." (thumbs up emoji)

Stony texted "Still coming home to drab old me?" (smile emoji)

I texted to both "I love you Stony Montague (heart emoji). On my way airport now. No waiting till morning." (triple heart emoji)

The concierge had arranged my cab so I went right to the front of the line. I spotted Willy waiting in the crowd and pulled him over to my side. We shared the ride.

In the cab he asked only one thing, "Whit kind o' hoor furgets th' color o' her panties?"

==================================

On the plane home I was pleased to find myself seated over the wing with Willy in the far back. We were buddies now, but some time alone was in order.

In order but not in the cards. The last passenger to board crawled over me into the middle seat with a huff. Ms. Judith P. Mogumbo.

I kept my head down, gladder than ever she didn't recognize me. Once airborne she pulled out her laptop and typed furiously for 45 minutes. I tried peeking over once or twice but could only make out a headline, How Alicia Did It. Mogumbo finished her piece, slammed the device shut and reclined her seat, closed her eyes. I think she drifted off then.

Mine were closed too when she said, "Jeffrey, mind if I ask you one question?"

I was jarred from my reverie, Stony at the door waiting for me. So she did know who I was. I shifted away slightly and pretended to be asleep. She didn't buy it and prodded me in the side with a bony finger. I turned farther away, no longer pretending, letting her know I wasn't talking. Roxie would have been proud.

"Just one, I promise," she repeated.

She prodded again and said, "Or I could just go on doing this," and prodded again.

I gave up.

"I thought you didn't know who I was."

"Oh, no. I knew in the elevator the other day, just too busy then to..."

"I'm not talking to you."

"Is it cause of the douchebag line?"

I turned to let her see how angry I was, but I kept my voice low. "All the crap you said about Alicia? You were pretty mean to her, and to the other girls too...but, yeah, the douchebag thing. Why'd you have to say that?"

"Began with a D," she said with a cute smile and a pretty flutter of the eyes. She's prettier up close, much prettier than that little picture they show in the paper.

"Stupid. I think you overdo that crap." Pretty, yes. But I had decided to call her out hard.

She answered nonchalantly, "Maybe. It's just this side of possible...But still, one question? A real one? I won't print it or make anything up about it, won't ever mention this conversation in print."

"Is that what this is? A conversation?" Badass. Tough on her, but she deserved it.

Mogumbo smiled gently at me then and touched the back of my hand. She said, "I am capable of that you know."

We sat. She kept her eyes and smile on me, waiting me out. Finally I gave in.

"What's the one question?" I asked in a low growl.

Mogumbo leaned in close so we would not be overheard. "Good boy. Thank you. It's not about tonight. Fuckin' girl can't remember the color of her panties? Puh-leeze! But not about tonight. I'm not even sure it's about Alicia." She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching my ear, whispered. "It's...well go back to White Girl Pride Day. She came in third that night. Exciting ending though, huh?" She pulled back a bit and gave me the smile.

"So?"

"So those four points, the ones that saved Alicia's ass, ones gave her a tie with Roberta. You know anything about that? Alicia know anything about it?"

"What are you talking about? Everyone knew, everyone saw it. The penalty on Mrs. O'Leary, the scrunchy thing."

"Oh, yeah. I know that. You're right. Everyone does."

"Then what's the...?"

Back to the full whisper in my ear now. "What if I told you that the scorers counted that penalty twice? That they did it the second time to make sure Alicia got a tie for third, to put it in the hands of Lady Flo? You two know anything about that?"

I drew myself up stiffly and looked her right in the eye. My voice was still low but I practically spat out the words. "God. You are crazy. Who the fuck," I had to checked around us, still private, "..the fuck told you that?"

Mogumbo continued to smile sweetly. "Oh, a little birdie. You know journalists can't divulge sources."

"Is that what you are? A journalist?" More badass.

The pleasant smile never left her face, hard to get under her skin apparently. She said, "Well in my imagination I am..who knows? Maybe someday for real, get away from this bullshit. But stick to the question. Do you know anything at all about it? Do you think Alicia knows about it?"

"My God, you just make this stuff up. Now you're going to write an article about Alicia cheated? Is that it? Goddamn it."

"I'll take that as a No for you. What about her, Alicia, she ever say anything about the four points? Anything at all?"

"Listen, Gumby," even though as a general matter I am quite loathe to insult any woman, especially a black woman, "listen to me, you can take your stupid made up theories and stuff them up your ass. Got it?" Super badass. Wash my hands of the cunt.

But you couldn't tell from her reaction. Her voice continued cool and purring. "I'll take that as another No, but still just for you. You ever hear anything more about it from your wife, when Pharaoh is done with her, hear anything at all, would you please let me know? I'd appreciate it."

This time I turned my back decisively. I was done with her. We were in the descent. I kept my back to her till we were at the gate. As I got up to retrieve my bag she looked up with the same lovely smile she had earlier. Very nice teeth, pure white, must work hard on that. Then her face turned faux sad, her lower lip up over the top one.

"I am sorry about the douchebag thing, too harsh. Would dweeb have been better?"

"Journalist? HA! Why don't you come back and see me when you really are a journalist."

I grabbed the bag and left her there.

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****Thursday, September 5, 2304***

How Alicia Did It

Judith P. Mogumbo — North Porter Free Black Register — Thursday, Sept. 5, 2304

Question for you: Has a white girl ever looked prettier or more fuckable? Been more submissively charming? Has a white girl, any white girl, ever had a pussy readier for hard use? Or a mouth and throat and lips more deserving the heft and thrust of a Pharaoh's dick?

Answer: Maybe but I don't think so. You'd have to point her out to me.

North Porter's own Alicia Natasha Rochefort, née Podomatskiavich, is the white girl I'm thinking of, and last night she swept to a surprisingly easy victory over outmatched opponents Elizabeth Partridge and Elsie Reynolds to earn the bed of our newest Pharaoh, Quentin Q. Quenton. (Hey, what's the Q stand for Quentin?)

Pharaoh and Alicia are by this time over the Pacific half way to the paradise of Tahiti. We lowly journalists are, of course, not privy to whether Pharaoh took time last night to bend the latest Pharaoh-girl over, but a little birdie (I'll never say who!) told me he put her straight to her knees backstage after the show. To which I say Whew! and say, hope you like the flavor kid, he looks like a man who has plenty more for you in reserve.

The competition? Let me count the ways they failed both us and themselves.

Little slutlet Liz counted on her tits. Bad mistake. Pharaoh's friends were like ho-hum, another tit. Plus boring answers like "I'll submit." Over and over to almost every question, "I'll submit." Duh! Pharaoh knows you'll submit. It's why you're there cunt! Now answer the friggin' question! Never stood a chance.

Slutlet Elsie showed more promise. She was the clear favorite going into the show, and, to be fair, looked nearly as lovely as Alicia for much of the 90 minutes. Too bad for her she was a C- student in Geography at Ridgefield High. Too bad she spent most of her time in that class doing her nails and makeup and shooting beavers at the black boys. Too bad for her she can't keep track of whether she's wearing panties or color of the same. Honestly. Submission and looks will get you only so far in life, kiddo. There ought to be at least a tiny bit of gray matter to complement the cute pussy.

Back to our girl Alicia!

Her opponent's dreadful flaws carved a path. But don't undersell our Alicia! Her performance was near perfect and she would very likely have prevailed in a much stronger field. The striking pussy/ass/thighs keyhole reference, the brilliant description of her adorable yellow lingerie, her discreet messaging to uppers and friends of her renowned cocksucking skills. These are the things that accelerated her down that path to a well deserved victory. She earned it, nailed it. (BTW: That lingerie? Paul's of Hammond, available exclusively at Sears for you wannabe sluts.)

Two sluts left a path. Alicia went down that path as fast and as surely as strong black dick is down the crevice between virgin white thighs.

Well done girlfriend!!

And that, my friends, is a wrap on the North Porter Pharaoh. Oh, there'll be plenty more Pharaohs and plenty more pretty girls dying to suck their cocks. There will be plenty of other lucky towns. But this one was special, this one was our Pharaoh, our girl. He'll fuck her well, of that you may be sure. But in a way I hope readers will appreciate, Pharaoh is also fucking each and every one of us, fucking our Porter-pussy, our town twat, our collective cunt. Bet on it. North Porter is changed forever. We are on the map and we ain't looking back!

It is said that weeks ago a confident Alicia told her dweebish husband Jeffrey, "this cunt is going to make us both famous." Amen. She might have added "and all of our neighbors and friends and colleagues, all who adore this lovely little burgh we call home." Amen.