Mary Beth's Adventures In & Out Of Marriage Ch. 3
First off, Jeb, I did try to see you last Saturday. Well, I didn't actually come down, but I called first thing in the morning. They told me not to bother though, cause of your being in isolation and all (that explains why you haven't written! I mean, with your not being allowed any sharp implements). Why would you have attacked your cellmate like that? Especially after I took all the time and trouble to write my last letter. I know it must be depressing to be locked up for life with no possibility for parole (the new drug "lifer laws" sure suck!). Who knows though, they were saying on the radio today that the law might be repealed, so you should try to keep a good record! They also talked about no "grandfathering" the changes, whatever that means, but it sure sounded hopeful.
I don't want to bore you with mundane little day to day things about my life. I did want you to know that I am putting the house up for sale though. The more I thought about it, the more I worried about being around if some of your former "associates" tracked you down for some reason. I also seem to have taken on a celebrity status around the neighborhood with the young male population! (More on that later). Helen has asked me to move in with her. Well, back to my story. If you remember, I had left off my last letter just before my job interview.
The club was in a beautiful old stone building downtown. There were no windows or signs, just an engraved brass plaque next to a pair of large, stately carved wood doors. I entered a comfortable reception room. The lighting was dim, and rich wood and leather dominated the room, with dark green walls featuring framed oil paintings of Ruebenesque women, in various states of undress. It had a very clubby feel to it. A black man stood behind a small counter. He was a huge man, and his presence dominated the small room. He wore an elegantly cut suit, but his muscular physique still seemed to threaten the stitching. His shaved head glistened as he bowed towards me with a courteous greeting (it also made me acutely aware of my naked, freshly shaved pussy underneath my thin dress!).
When I gave my name, he smiled and said that I was expected. He led me through a side door, and down a hallway. We entered a small waiting room, where a beautiful girl was seated behind a small desk. She had flawless, coffee colored skin, framed with elaborately braided and jeweled hair, which sparkled as she looked up at our approach. "Ms. Francis is here to see Mr. Jones" he announced in his deep baritone, and left to return to his duties.
The girl spoke briefly into her handset. "Mr. Jones will see you in just a minute" she said in a professional manner, and returned her attention to a report on her desktop. I wandered over to the far wall, which displayed framed five by seven pictures of past and present employees mounted in neat rows. The hire dates had been engraved on the frames, and it was obvious that most had been with the club for a long time. One picture caught my eye in particular, and I had to take a second, closer look. It sure looked like Helen! I was confused, but then again, I hadn't mentioned where I was interviewing to her. The date on the frame coincided with her divorce, so that made sense.
The inner door opened, interrupting my train of thought. I was surprised to see that Marcus was African American also. I was puzzled, since I know full well that you are such a bigot! He was a very handsome man. He greeted me warmly, and had a kind, gentle smile.
He led me into his office. I took a seat in a comfortable leather chair in front of his polished desk. He was casually dressed in a V-necked cashmere sweater, which displayed an athletic build. He wore a wafer thin gold wristwatch and several glittery rings on his fingers. A tasteful diamond stud adorned his left ear.
"I'm so glad you could make it Mary Beth," he said, once we had settled in. He picked up a steaming mug of coffee and cradled it in his hands, as he leaned back in his high-backed chair. He was carefully appraising me all the while, and I could get a sense of a keen intellect behind his handsome features. "I try to operate a very high-class operation here. We cater to a very exclusive clientele." He paused and took a sip from the mug, closing his eyes as he relished the taste. "I'm sorry, would you like to share a cup with me?" The aroma smelled wonderful, and I quickly agreed. He continued speaking as he busied himself preparing a cup from an elaborate looking machine setting on his credenza. "There is something of a stigma in the black community when an African American male seeks the company of a white woman." He watched me closely for reaction, as he set the cup down in front of me.
"You see, most of the black women in our culture resent this "Interference". They see many of our high profile athletes and musicians sporting trophy blondes on their arms, and their resentment grows. It can present an extremely uncomfortable situation for a high profile individual in our community, so even though they may desire to seek the company of such a lady, they must maintain a positive public persona within their culture. This is where I come in!"
He was very smooth Jeb, but I could certainly see where this was leading! "Are you talking about prostitution, Mr. Jones?" I asked him directly.
"I'll be frank with you Mary Beth" he answered with a probing look. "Yes, though in a very specialized and controlled fashion. Everything happens within these stone walls, my girls are safe, healthy and wealthy! I don't know your husband at all, except from what I hear, he was a low life cowardly dope smokin' wife beatin' piece of white trash! (Your reputation proceeds you!). I got your name from a dear friend of mine, and she said you were an ideal candidate."
