Tropes Mitch Better Have My Bunny

The gambling house was illegal. Maybe the owners paid off the cops or whatever, but every Friday and Saturday night at 1106 Gardner, in a sleepy suburb, it was on. Blackjack and spades for money on the first floor, a roulette wheel in the basement, and Texas hold 'em, a strictly big money game that was for high rollers only in the upstairs bedroom. The host, Randy, was a six foot, three inch black man with a genial manner, always dressed pin-sharp in a black suit with a brightly colored tie and a shirt that looked expensive. A large plain gold band was on his right ring finger, a huge diamond solitaire on his left pinky. He rolled from floor to floor, making sure that folks' drinks were filled, and that they had a snack if they wanted. On his way back to the first floor, he spotted Steve. Steve and his wife Helen were regulars, but Steve had been on a low streak. He was into the house for about $6K, and Randy has word from above that if he got any deeper, Randy would have to start collection proceedings. He didn't want to do that. But, it was his job, and he had to make a living.

Steve looked like he was losing, and his wife looked like she didn't care. Drinking, laughing with the other women at the blackjack table, flirting with some of the men. Helen was about 5"4", with long brunette hair and a wide hipped, big bust, hourglass figure stuffed into a half-hour glass. She was hot, despite her weight. Maybe even because of it. Dressed in a see-through dress with a black underlayer, Randy thought she was the best looking woman in the room, even though there were plenty of leggy blondes, brunettes, black women, and Latinas in the house that night. Most of the other young women in the house that night were working hard on their cold, good luck charm looks, silent and pouty and beautiful, Helen was loud, cheerful, and seemed to be having a great time. Randy liked watching her.

"Blackjack!" the dealer said, and scooped the rest of Steve's chips from him. Steve put his head in his hands and sighed. He said something to his wife, who looked extremely disappointed, and grabbed her wrap in a huff, and pushed her way out the door. Steve followed.

At around 3AM, Randy asked the head dealer/bookkeeper what Steve's total was.

Shanice looked up from her work, and then clicked through a window on her laptop. "Steve Plumb? After tonight, he's into us for an even $10K. He's been flagged. He cannot come back until we receive some payment."

At that moment, Randy's cell phone buzzed. He lifted it, looked at the message, and replaced it in his pocket. "Thanks Shanice. Let me know when you're ready to go to the bank, OK?"

Shanice said "The count is done. I'm just entering figures. 5 minutes."

"Good enough." Randy walked around, making sure that the gaming implements had been put away, and that the house was clean. When he returned to the study, Shanice had a zippered bank bag bulging with cash, and was wearing her coat.

Steve woke up with a pounding hangover, wondering how he had gotten here. The realization that he owed an illegal casino ten thousand dollars didn't set in until he was halfway through his first cup of coffee.

Helen was in the kitchen, wearing a shorty robe and eating toast.

"Make me some breakfast, honey?"

Helen looked at him blankly, long enough to make him swallow.

Steve sat and didn't say anything.

Helen said "What the FUCK are you going to do?"

Steve said "Well, maybe we could ask your dad-"

Helen threw the last piece of buttered toast at him, hitting him square in the forehead. "You fucking IDIOT. My father is not going to pay your gambling debts. And I'm not going to ask him."

"Well, don't you have some-"

Helen tossed what was left of her orange juice at him, soaking his t-shirt and bouncing the glass off of his chest. "I am not going to pay either!!! YOU got yourself into this. I told you we didn't have to gamble. Now, I find out you're into them for ten thousand? How did this happen?"

"I made some sports bets that didn't work out." Steve said limply.

"Steve, who do you think runs that place? The state? No, idiot, gangsters own that joint. And now you owe them money."

Helen's rant was interrupted by the door bell.

"Who the hell is coming by at 10 am on a Saturday morning?" Helen stomped to the door and opened it to reveal Randy, dressed weekend cool in a tight white tank that sharply contrasted his dark brown skin, and cuffed, gray sweats that stretched tight around his firm backside and fit his thighs closely. No jewelry, save a thin gold chain around his neck. Helen could see muscles that she didn't know the name of in his shoulders and chest.

"Good Morning Mrs. Plumb. Mind if I come in?" Randy didn't wait for an answer, and walked on as if Helen couldn't stop him. Which she couldn't.

"H-Hello Mr. Simmons. C-can I offer you some coffee?"

"That would be nice, Mrs. Plumb. I have some things to discuss with you and the mister." Randy stretched his large frame and yawned. Helen couldn't resist noticing the muscles tighten and slacken in his back and ass as he did so. The morning light on his deep brown skin kept Helen's attention. She had noticed him the first time they went to the casino, his broad shoulders and sharp dressed attitude were intoxicating to her.

And the fear...yeah, he scared her.

Everybody knew that Randy, in addition to being the man at the casino, also handled all the collection work. He was always genial, generous, even solicitous. But there were many rumors floating around, about how he held a man's hand over a running garbage disposal, or how he threatened a man with an electric charcoal starter, holding the 600 degree heating element centimeters from the man's face. Helen didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but the thought of him committing these violent acts turned her on.

Helen went to the kitchen and told her husband, "Get your ass out there. Randy is here."

Steve paled, and ran to the first floor bathroom, where she could hear him retching.

Helen poured coffee, and grabbed the creamer out of the fridge, and balanced the sugar bowl on top of it, and served Randy. "He'll be out in a minute." She said, as if you couldn't hear the sounds of sickness throughout the first floor.

Randy prepared his coffee, cream and three spoonfuls of sugar, and kept looking at Helen, who shifted slightly under his gaze. Her shorty robe had ridden up so he could see her round ass in the thong panties she wore. Helen slept in a tank and panties. Not anticipating company, she just had the robe on over them, and was acutely aware of it now, the curve of her cheeks fully visible to Randy's eye. Helen returned briefly to the kitchen to rearrange herself, a moistness on her brow that she hadn't noticed before, and a tingling in between her legs.

When she returned to the living room, Steve was sitting on the couch as far away from Randy as possible. Randy was saying "We can work a payment plan, Steve. But I'll tell you, there is no grace period. And payments are due biweekly, on your payday. My tech guy is good enough that he can garnish your wages. Makes it look like a credit thing. But that's the easy way. I like this kind of work, and I prefer to see my clients up close, and see if there is anything I can do to help. Which would mean that you and I would see each other every other Friday until the debt is paid."

"Can we just do the payroll thing? I'll sign whatever you want me to sign." Steve grabbed at the only straw offered.

"No, I don't think so. The amount is too great, and my superiors have dictated that I handle your account personally. So, I'll just come by here, every other Friday at 5, on my way to the house. Be here, and have the money, in cash. If you are strapped, you will get one extra day. But if I don't get a payment on Saturday, I'm going to have to enact some consequences." Randy stood up, and crossed the room quickly, sat right next to Steve, and tried to look him in the eye. Steve didn't raise his head. Randy put a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed lightly. "Steve, look at me. I don't want to hurt you. But you will pay me. Understood? Say yes. I had to interrupt my morning workout to come see you. I'd like to get back to it."

Steve couldn't breathe, he was so scared. Helen was scared, too, but the moisture between her legs confused her. She was horny at a time like this? She tried to put it out of her mind, but while Steve nodded and a tear slipped down his face, she could feel her own juices dampening her underwear. When he gave Steve a final squeeze on the back of his neck, Randy's shoulders bunched and Helen felt her pussy clench in response.

Randy stood, drained his coffee cup, and nodded to Helen. "Mrs. Plumb, thanks for a fine cup of coffee. It was so good that I might have to come back for another cup. You know I usually need a pick-me-up when I head into work. Can you have a cup ready for me when I come back next Friday? It would be a big help."

Helen's nipples were about to poke through her robe. And, she was going to have to change her panties before her arousal became obvious. "Sure, Randy..I..I can do that."

"Mrs. Plumb, I prefer that you call me Mr. Simmons. This is still business."

Helen's nipples were scraping against her tank top. She wanted to throw herself at him. She was repulsed and wanted to run. She couldn't process this feeling. The confusion added to her arousal. "Y-Yes, Mr. Simmons." She stammered. "If you'll excuse me, I-"

"You'll see me out? Of course, it's your home." He stood, expectantly. She crossed the room and opened the door for him. He stood so close to her that she could feel the heat from the morning on his skin. She could smell it. He looked at her, perhaps a bit more lightly than he had at her husband, and said "Goodbye Mrs. Plumb. I'll see you in a couple of weeks." He took her hand gracefully, but didn't kiss it. Too hackneyed. The warmth of his touch was almost more than Helen could handle. She was vibrating, wasn't she? She felt as if there were rubber balls bouncing around under her skin. Hot ones that reddened her face. She merely nodded, as Randy stepped out the door.

Steve sat on the couch, his face in his hands.

The first payment Friday came around, and Steve had gone to the bank to withdraw the first $1,500 to give to Randy. He was home. Helen has been acting funny. Cleaning the entire house top to bottom, and when he got home, she was wearing makeup, earrings, and black cotton leggings under a Jimi Hendrix tee she liked. Steve thought she looked good and told her so. She thanked him, brusquely, as the doorbell rang. Helen fairly glided over to the door to answer it. Randy came in in his trademark black suit, a red tie and shirt, jewelry in place. Steve handed him the money, and he sat down to count it. Helen came back into the living room with coffee on their good silver tray. Randy took it, prepared it, and said "Mrs. Plumb, you look absolutely lovely today."

Helen blushed. She had dressed for him and didn't even know it. "Thank you. I just threw this on. But I was cleaning all day, so..."

"Well, the place looks marvelous. Steve, it's all here." He drank his coffee down. " I will see you all again. Thanks, Mrs. Plumb."

"Anytime, Mr. Simmons." Helen bounced herself to the door to open it for him. She was eager to help him out. On his way out the door, he gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek. Her cheek became hot and she blushed deeper. "That was my payment for the coffee. Have a good evening."

Steve said "What the hell was that?"

Helen said "He was being appreciative, and gentlemanly. Now, shut the hell up, and go get dinner. You haven't dug yourself out of this hole with me yet." she spat. "Cook it, buy it, whatever. But I'm doing neither. You want to spend all our money gambling, you can do the work around here." She went into what had become her bedroom over the last two weeks, and put on comfortable clothes. Went back into the TV room and put on a recording of one of her favorite shows, which Steve hated. After a while, Steve came in with a hamburger and fries from their favorite burger joint, which she ate grudgingly. After an evening of silence, they went to bed.

About two months later, Steve was headed home to meet Mr. Simmons when he happened upon a car stuck sideways across the road, with the hood up. The street was just off of the entrance to the neighborhood, and was empty, as people weren't headed home from work yet. Steve slowed as a man poked his head out. "Hey, can you give me a jump? I've got cables."

Steve said sure, but when he opened the door to his car, strong hands grabbed him from the rear, and said "Don't move, don't say shit, if you wanna keep breathing. Give it up. Wallet, whatever you got. Now, motherfucker! I ain't got time." The man under the hood slammed it shut,got in the car, and started it.

The man he couldn't see read from his drivers license. "Steve Plumb, 361 Azalea. Don't call the cops." The man pushed him into the car, banging Steve's head on the doorframe. They sped off. Steve looked down at the seat, and the bank envelope was gone.

"Shit."

Helen was wearing her sexy suburban mom outfit that day, black barely see through tights with a racer back tank over a sports bra. She had exercised and was enjoying a sip of water while she waited for Mr. Simmons' coffee to brew. Every time the large black man had come by the house, Helen had stroked herself silly imagining his big black hands on her body, pleasing her. She was ashamed of this. Women who were raised in her era were the ones who publicly began to date other races, but Helen, in her sheltered suburban upbringing, was not one of them. Above and beyond Randy's capacity for violence, his blackness fascinated her, and she kept seeing the contrast of his large dark hands with their long fingers holding her thighs apart in her mind. His long pink tongue teased her labia, and Steve stumbled in the door, breaking her daydream.

"I don't have it."

Helen immediately knew he meant the money. "Don't have it? How? You got paid today."

"I got robbed on the way home. They got my drivers license and said they would get me if I turned them in."

Just then, Mr. Simmons, dressed in a blue shirt and black tie today, let himself in the house. Steve and Helen went silent. Helen jumped up to get his coffee.

"Good afternoon folks." Randy said, sensing he would not be paid today. Helen returned with his cup.

"H-hello Mr. Simmons," Helen said nervously. "Here is your cup of coffee."

Randy took the cup and said "Such prompt service! Thank you, Mrs. Plumb. May I sit down?" He was already moving toward his usual seat, Steve's favorite living room chair.

"So, Steve, where's the cash? I've got to get over to the house. Private party for a very important man from out of town."

Steve stammered..."I, uh, I...I don't have it."

Mr. Simmons' face slipped a few notches. "Steve, please. Let's not play games. Do you remember our agreement?"

"Yes."

"Then you realize that you have until tomorrow or I'm going to have to do something about it."

"Yes."

Mr. Simmons was not sure if he understood. Maybe he needed a bit of help. "Look Steve," He said, draining his coffee cup and rising. "I have to rearrange my entire day to make sure I am here to meet you at 5. I don't have an assistant, I have to keep my own schedule. So, because I had to come over here and leave empty handed, I think you need to remember how serious this situation is for you and your well being." He walked over to Helen, and said "Ma'am, would you please stand up?"

Helen was so scared that her legs didn't work right, and she had to attempt to stand twice before she made it. Randy was gracious and gave her his arm on the third attempt,and helped her haul herself to her feet. Once upright, her hands shook.

"Mrs. Plumb? I won't hurt you. But I need you to help me make your husband understand that my bosses get their money. And I need to be compensated for the time he's had me waste. Please calm down. Take a deep breath with me, okay?" Randy gripped her hands like a grief counselor and said "In...out. Just like that. Ready?" Randy breathed deep with her 5 times, and Helen felt herself calm a bit, and her hands stopped shaking.

"Good. That's-a-girl. Now, get on your knees."

Just like that, Helen's pussy was soaked. This strong, black man has given her an order. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and Steve said, "Hey..." weakly.

Randy's head swiveled slowly to line up with Steve's eyes. "Steve? If you say another word, I'll make sure it'll be your last. Got it? Sit down and SHUT THE FUCK UP."

The shouted words hit Steve like a physical thing, and he collapsed onto the couch. Helen obeyed and sank to the floor, her legs shaking again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Plumb. Are you comfortable? Steve, toss me that pillow....STEVE."

Steve jerked. And tossed Randy the oblong throw pillow. Randy caught it easily, and positioned it under Helen's knees. "There, is that better?"

Helen whispered,"Yes."

Randy said, "I'm sorry ma'am, could you speak up?"

Helen cleared her throat and said "Yes." in a firm voice.

Randy nodded. "Now, unbuckle my belt, take my cock out, and stroke it with your hand."

Helen's mind was on fire. She couldn't do this, shouldn't do this, why was Steve making her do this? But she knew Steve didn't have anything to do with it at this point. This had always been between them. And, she had to feel it. His strong black cock, pulsing underneath her hand.

Steve found his voice again. "Come on, man."

Randy looked at Helen, and said "Excuse me."

He crossed the room before Steve could leave it, and grabbed him by the upper arm. "I told you what would happen, didn't I?" He raised an open right hand, and slapped Steve hard across the left side of the face. Steve's glasses flew behind the couch, bouncing off the wall. Randy paused, and backhanded him with the same hand. Limp, Steve fell onto the couch. Instinctively, Helen rose to her feet, and Randy's burring baritone voice froze her. "Back on your knees ma'am. Please. He's fine. Even still conscious. Steve, when I tell you something, I mean it. You hear me? Say yes so I can finish this and get to work. You also need to sit up. Here, I'll fetch your glasses for you." Randy grabbed his glasses from behind the couch, and helped Steve into a sitting position. Both sides of Steve's face were bright red, and he would probably be bruising in the morning. He squinted through the pain and his dusty lenses at Randy, and moaned "Yes."

Randy walked back over to Mrs. Plumb and said "Ma'am? I really do have to leave soon. Please, take my cock out and start stroking it."

Helen unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and pulled down his black bikini briefs. His 8 inch cock flopped out, semi hard from the physical activity. Helen had an overwhelming urge to take him into her mouth, but the man had said to stroke it, so she began to stroke the thick shaft with both hands.

"Ahh, that's nice. Slip your hand over the head...yeah that's good. Give me a second?"

Helen stopped and Randy removed his suit coat, revealing a shoulder rig with a.40 caliber automatic in it. He undid the two bottom buttons of his shirt, and threw his tie over his shoulder. "Keep stroking, Mrs. Plumb." He directed.

Helen, her eyes on the gun, began working his cock with her hands again, feeling the shaft become harder from her ministrations. "Don't forget the head, Mrs. Plumb." She stroked the head, but her hands didn't move smoothly.

Mr. Simmons said "Put the head in your mouth and suck on it, Mrs. Plumb. Make it wet so you can stroke my cock. And take off that workout gear."

Helen froze. "But..."

Randy rapped her lightly on the cheek with his index and middle finger. The thump resonated through Helen's head. "I hate that I have to say it like this, but you need to understand as well, that I get what I want. You need to take off your fucking clothes and show me your fucking body while you suck my fucking black cock. The only response that will be acceptable is 'Yes, Mr. Simmons.' Understand?"