The Ballad of Emily Jeffers

NOTE: This is the second part of the Ballad of Emily Jeffers, a seemingly naive and clueless woman for whom sex comes naturally, and sexual manipulation by others is her entire life. It's a story, and as such all characters are fictitious. Even so, those fictitious characters are all 18 years old and older.

It turned out Sammy had gotten hitched to Jenny White. She was sort of on the periphery of the crowd we hung around with. I just barely remembered her. But it didn't last between them. Jenny was shacking up with a big Black guy named Wilburt who put his baby juice in her one too many times and knocked her up.

"I didn't know a thing about it," Sammy confessed as we walked over to Jack's little apartment after we left Owens. It had been a long time ago and he was mostly over it. "She was big as a whale. Almost nine months gone and one day her water bust and she went into labour. We hightailed it to the hospital over in Haler City and when the baby came out it was as Black as that there Dodge truck sittin' over yonder."

Sammy nodded towards a Ram 1500 sittin' down by Landry's drug store.

"Sammy turned around, walked out the door," Jack said, takin' up the story. "I was just gettin' ready to walk over to Owens for supper when he pounded on my door. Damn near busted it down."

The short of it was, he and Jack went over to Sammy's cleaned out his belongings, and got him situated at Jack's 'til he could find a place. And if there's any truth to the story, Jenny moved in with Wilburt until he got tired of her and put her out on the street where she did a good trade for a few years. Black guys who couldn't afford Emily Jeffers could do Jenny for next to nothing.

"Wilburt's got the kid," Sammy said.

"Jenny got knocked up a bunch more times," Jack said. "Lives up in the trailer park on welfare."

Jack never got married. I never expected he would. He'd had one girl back in high school and she died. Jack died too, if truth be told. I never knew Alice.

Jack's place was just about like I remembered it. Dark. New curtains I figured. Bookshelves filled to overcrowding, just like in the old days. He had a laptop instead of the old PC I remembered -- although that had been cutting edge at the time. No couch, just some big, leather armchairs. Real cow hide.

It must have been close to 2 a.m. by the time Sammy took off down the street. Jack and I talked for another hour, him filling me in on Johnsons Hollow. Me not saying so much about what I'd been doing. But Jack knew why I left.

"Best day in 15 years, Law," he said. Jack didn't get maudlin. No sentimentality in the guy. Unless of course you knew him. A statement like what he'd just said was practically him bawling out tears.

I nodded.

"Same Jack," I said. And it was true. I'd got out of finance years ago, but the world still put pressure on a person. A little bit more every day until you're loaded down with so much baggage and responsibility, things to do, people to see, people to avoid, regrets -- that just breathing becomes a chore. That night at Owens, and then back at Jack's? Like all that weight just lifted up and off my shoulders. Like I'd been pinned under a truck and somebody finally came along and lifted it up off me. I could have sat in that armchair with that cold beer in my hand forever.

"Irony is Law, you feel that way in the place you ran from," Jack said. "Maybe things wasn't so bad."

Jack hauled out an old cot and threw some blankets on it. I crashed and didn't wake up until mid-morning. Jack works from home so no big deal. Coffee. Breakfast.

Later he drove me over to Walt's old service station and they were just taking my truck down with a couple new tires on it. They threw the old ones in the back and I settled up.

I was a bit hung over. I don't drink much. Jack was a bit better and we parked my Ford at his place and he took me on a tour of town. Not much had changed, and what had changed wouldn't have been called progress.

It was mid-evening by the time I sat down with a beer, Andi pretending she wasn't watchin' me in the mirror. I'd have to talk to her before the night was out. Owens was crowded though, and I soon had the boys pushin' tables together and callin' for more stories on Ms. Jeffers.

"You ended up fuckin' that whore's ripe cunt, right," asked a young guy. "I mean I heard Jimmy White tellin' once how him and all the other Black bulls did her so often she was like a habit they couldn't quit."

I tried to pick up the threads of the night before, and the kid was right. Emily Jeffers was addictive. That was part of the problem. You fucked her once and you're hooked. I thought back to where I left off. I remembered Harper calling me upstairs to his office that day, sayin' he had a job for me.

"Go through all the foreclosures and find me a house or apartment building close to downtown," Harper said. "Something off the main drag but close to parking. I need a place to put somebody a few hours at a time a couple days a week."

I figured it was for out-of-town guests or something and had a list for him within an hour. Old Harper looked them over and handed one back to me.

"You found a place to stay yet?" Harper asked.

"No sir," I replied. "I been stayin' at the motel out by Walt's garage. Can't find a place."

"Well, son, go take a look at this -- maybe you could take downstairs and upstairs would suit my purposes."

I didn't know what his purposes were and I hadn't heard of Emily Jeffers. But I needed a place and Harper gave it to me dirt cheap.

"Just keep an eye on things upstairs," he said. "We don't want things gettin' wild."

I arranged to get the electricity turned on, got keys for both places, and moved my few things in the ground floor apartment of the old house within the week.

A few days after I got settled, Harper showed up with Pastor Brown and I showed them the upstairs.

The old minister took a good look around and nodded his approval.

"This'll do just fine," he said. "Got to look around for some furniture. Jim Matthews got some good beds over there at his store and that be the main thing."

Bits and pieces of furniture arrived over the next few days and some church women came in with curtains, and did a bit of decoratin' as well. I still had no idea who was movin' in. But then one day I was at work and Harper called me up to his office again.

"You see this here schedule Lawton?" he asked, handing me a ring bound book. "Girl named Jeffers is gonna be upstairs at the times I got marked down there. First few days I want you there so she gets kind of settled in. Then we'll see how it goes."

I asked what was goin' on. He pussy-footed around it some, but finally came out and told me. I never thought about the right or wrong of it at the time. And with Pastor Brown involved it almost seemed innocent.

"She's a dumb whore, Lawton," he said. "A cow.  A good wet place to bury your boner is all. Why she can hardly put a sentence together. She'll never get a job 'cause she got nothin' between her ears. What she's got that's worth anything is between her legs. And we're gonna pump that for all it's worth -- 'til it wears out."

I think I laughed. The picture I had of this Jeffers woman wasn't at all kind.

"She'll like you Lawton," he said. "A young guy like you. And I'll look the other way iffin' you want to ride her on the sly. And there ain't no stoppin' her. I know, Lawton, I did her up her pussy and she couldn't get enough."

It was the next week Harper gave me the keys to his car and told me to get out to the Jeffers place and bring Abe's wife into town.

"Get her upstairs and make sure she's ready to start putting out," he said. "Stick around and keep an eye on her. Make sure nobody gets too rough."

I didn't know what to say. He told me how to get to the farm. Handed me $50 for my trouble and I went out the side door to the parking lot. Harper drove an old Caddy -- one of those old boats that took up a couple parking spots. I headed out, but I can tell you boys, I wasn't even anywhere close to bein' prepared for Emily Jeffers.

It was out Highway 7 a ways. About 10 minutes I guess. The farmhouse was a wreck, but I knew I had the right place. Harper had described it.

I parked near the back door in a muddy, rutted driveway that looped around the side lawn, across the front of a barn, and back out on the road. I got out and tip-toed through the mud, around the front of the car and up some old rotted steps to the door and knocked. Nobody goes to the front door in these parts. Straight into the kitchen from the back. Harper said she'd be expectin' me and sure enough I'd hardly tapped with my knuckles and the door opened in.

Like I said. I wasn't prepared. I don't know what I expected, but she wasn't it. The first thing I saw was her face, framed in golden hair that fairly glowed it was so radiant. The face was like an angel -- gold-flecked hazel eyes, straight, thin nose, full ruby red lips, and a strong, yet feminine chin. And then she smiled shyly. Sort of demure and coy at the same time. I sort of melted. Sort of froze. Sort of couldn't breathe. I'd never seen such beauty. Such purity. Such innocence. I knew right then she didn't really know what was about to happen to her. She was so naive and so trusting. Later I found out she'd never even owned a television and had never been to a movie. What she knew about the world was what she'd seen with her own eyes, and that wasn't much.

And then, when I could finally take my eyes from her face, through that screen door I saw her body. She wore a short dress of a thin white material -- Indian cotton I think. Although the dress wasn't tight, all of her best parts pushed against the cloth in such a way as to accentuate perfection. Her breasts were tipped with long nipples. The place between her legs was puffed out, the hooded bud atop that baby tunnel swollen up. And even through the dress I could see those lips hanging open.

I was hard in an instant. You looked at her and the only thought was to fuck her. There was no open invitation (so to speak), but a million years of genetic makeup told your brain, this is her. The one above all others. For someone like Able Jeffers to end up with her seemed unimaginable. I'd seen him a few times at the bank in the past week. And he was a pig.

"You must be Lawton," she said in a low voice as I pulled the screen door closed behind me. She had a small suitcase on a kitchen chair, and had prepared a lunch of some sort in plastic containers in a paper bag. She thought this was an outing.

"Pastor Brown told me I wasn't needin no underthings," she said simply. "I guess them boys will be puttin' their things up inside me so I don't need 'em anymore."

I grabbed the suitcase and helped her to the car. I can't even remember all of what we talked about for those few minutes. I told her I lived down stairs and Mr. Harper wanted me to keep an eye on her.

"Make sure nobody hurts you," I said, grabbing a quick glance at her as we sat side by side but miles apart in that big old car. "You've got to call me if anybody tries to hurt you. Yell for me or pound on the floor."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Like you're my guardian angel," she said. She didn't ask it, she said it. "I sure wish I'd had one already. You think you can save me?"

She said 'can' like you'd say 'kin.'

Now I didn't say anything for a moment. Then I let out a big breath.

"I promise I'll try my very best," I said, a lump in my throat now. I knew we were talkin' about two kinds of savin' now. I could do the first but wasn't so sure of the second. After all, I was the one leadin' her right into it.

"Anybody gets rough I'll get rid of 'em," I said. "Anybody hurts you I'll kill 'em."

She slid a bit closer and put her tiny hand on my right elbow.

"Nobody ever said anythin' like that before," she said real quiet. "Not nothin' like that for just me."

By then we were back in town and I parked in front of my new place. We went through the front door and up the steps to her new place. The place she'd spend a couple of afternoons and evenings on her back on that new bed the church elders had brought in and the ladies club made up.

I had the key and a spare and we went in. The place had been made over with a kitchen and a bathroom plus two bedrooms. I'd stocked the fridge with a few items and put some cans in the cupboard. There was a kitchen table and three chairs and a small hallway that led to the two bedrooms and the bathroom. I pointed out the shower.

"You gotta shower after each time," I said. "Maybe not your hair. But everywhere else."

"Up inside me too," she said. "No man gonna want another man's stuff comin' out a there if he gets down there tastin' me and lickin' at it."

She was totally unselfconscious.

I showed things to her and she finally walked into the big, furnished bedroom.

"Pastor says God wants me to do it," she said as she sat on the bed facing me. "You reckin' that's right Lawton? I mean would God want me to do something like that? Take all those men inside me?"

I looked around the room. At the bureau, the curtains, the light, down at the floor. Anywhere but her eyes that I knew were staring up at me. I wasn't religious at all. What the pastor and Harper were doing was plain and simple turning a pure, helpless woman into a whore. Until I met her, it didn't seem real. I pictured a skank. A lowlife gettin' what was coming to her. I saw Em and it just didn't work. They were makin' money off her body and she thought she was workin' for God.

"Lawton?"

"I, ah, I just don't know Ms Jeffers," I croaked. "Not for me to say I guess."

She got up and came over to me. Took my hand and pulled me back over to the bed where we sat side by side. She leaned against me and I could smell her and I'd never smelled anything so beautiful -- shampoo, talc, baby oil, woman all mixed together.

"Look at me Lawton," she said. "Tell me what you see. For honest."

She stood up and turned around a few times. Not in a flirtatious way. Just her showing me 360. No teasing smiles or hips jutted or breast stuck out. Just turned around.

What I saw was that beautiful woman, all the more beautiful for being so vulnerable. A flower. Something fragile.

I guess I didn't say anything smart. I could have reached out and pulled her to me and she would have been in my arms in a minute. We could have got my car at the bank and taken off. I don't think anybody would have even bothered looking. Least not very hard.

"Lawton?" she said.

I got up and walked to the bedroom door.

"You best get yourself ready," I managed to say. "They'll be coming soon."

I handed her a list of five names. She looked down at it.

"Them are all Black boys I guess, aren't they?" she said.

I nodded.

"Tomorrow night are some others," I said. "They'll be white men."

"I gotta do five tonight?" she asked. There were times beside each name. "I never done a Black boy, 'cept Pastor Brown but that weren't up inside me. I done him with my mouth."

"I'm just doin' what they told me to do," I said, looking at the floor. "I'll be downstairs. You need me just yell. Or bang on the floor like I said."

"Lawton. I'm scared," she said. Eyes big. "I don't feel so good. Do I gotta do it?"

"You call out if you need me," I said again. "It's just one guy at a time."

"You come back up after?" she said.

"I'll be here."

I looked at my watch. It was going on eight o'clock. She followed me out to the kitchen. Looked at me expectantly, like I was gonna make something magically happen.

"You just sit here at the table," I said. "When the first guy comes up, ask him to sit with you a minute. Ask his name. Get to know him a bit. He might not be so bad."

Back in my own place I heard the door open to the stairs that led up to her. Then a knock up at the top. The door opened. Closed.

I had a pretty nice stereo back then. Back when big speakers were in style. If I turned the volume up to four it just about drowned out her cries.

I could tell the first two guys gave it to her good, even above the music. I saw the first one leave after half an hour. A guy in his 50s I guessed. A while later a younger guy walked up the steps. He lasted all of 10 minutes from the sounds of things, but he must have done her again before his 45 minutes was up because there was a lot of noise from up there.

The third guy didn't show up. I was keeping an eye on the front steps. About 15 minutes after 10 she came down and knocked on my door.

I hardly recognized her. She was half wrapped up in a sheet. Her hair was wild and so were her eyes. The sheet mostly just covered her shoulders and was open most other places. Her nipples were puffed out and hard. Her tits heaved with each breath. Her place down there was swollen and red with those inner lips and clit puffed out and so engorged they looked like they would burst from the pressure.

"Lawton," she said, looking up into my eyes. "Lawton. They're awful big. They're things. Lawton, do I gotta do it?"

"They hurt you?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"They never hurt me none," she said. "They stretched it all out. I cum a whole bunch too. My Mama always cum good when they did her. I can't help but hear them usin' her good. She never done no Black boy though."

As far as I knew she hadn't lived at home for at least four or five years.

"They didn't hurt you or anything?" I asked again. "It was good?"

She nodded.

"You gotta do the last two guys," I said. "They already paid good money for that body of yours. They want to plant their own seed up in you. Nothin' more a Black boy wants than to shoot his stuff up inside a little white girl."

"So I gotta?"

"Abe sort of sold you Ms Jeffers," I said. "Nothin' I can do about it."

She sat on my sofa, pulled her legs up Indian fashion, opening up that pink gash right there in front of me. She had no idea what her naked body did to a man. Just lookin' at her about killed me.

"How long?" she said.

"How long what?" I asked.

"How long I gotta be fucked by all these Black boys?" she said. "Is it the pastor owns me now?"

I didn't know what to say. I knew the answers. She'd be doin' Black guys as long as she had a body Black guys wanted to do. Ten years? Fifteen? And she was owned by Harper more than anybody else. He was gettin' all the money for the white guys and a percentage for the Black guys.

"I gotta sleep up there after?" she asked. "I get scared. I ain't never slept up there."

I nodded.

"You want me to come up after?" I said.

She nodded.

"That'd be awful nice Lawton," she said. "I got no friends. I guess I ain't smart enough."

She still had half an hour so I went up with her and showed her how to use the stove, the drip coffee machine. She disappeared and came back out wearing the dress I'd first seen her in. And her hair was brushed. And she looked beautiful. And vulnerable. By then the coffee was ready and I poured her a cup.

"Abe don't like coffee so we don't get it," she said, dumping in a rounded spoonful of sugar. She dripped a little milk in.

"You never said how long I gotta do it, you know..." tilting her head towards the bedroom. "Lettin' them put it in me."

"Probably quite a long while," I said.

"Months?"

"Probably more than that," I said. "Maybe years."

Her head fell.

"Why Lawton? What did I do?" She didn't understand. "Abe said I'm just a whore now and serves me right. I never done nothin' bad."

"Not for me to say." I couldn't look at her. "I guess they think doin' Black boys is what you're probably best at. I don't know."

We heard the door open down at the bottom of the stairs. She turned to me, sort of a pleading look on her face. Eyes glistening, ready to spill. I just pulled her to me and kissed her hard on the lips.