Prologue
From their first contact our protagonists, a mother, and the son she gave up for adoption when he was an infant, are drawn to each other. Neither can understand the attraction. They only knew they just must suck and fuck.
Chapter 1
Julia Abercrombie, CEO of Abercrombie Properties, president of the Women's Club and board member of several large banks stepped from the cab into the chilly night air. Coming to this neighborhood and this bar was an impulse. An impulse fueled by an excellent dinner with an outstanding bottle of merlot and several martinis afterward.
Her staff was right about not buying this old building. The chances for redevelopment in this neighborhood were slim. Peremptorily she overruled them. She had her own reasons for buying this rundown old building.
The Black cabdriver leaned out the window. His eyes flicked from her long shapely legs to the full swell of her middle-aged hips. He picked up this mature, well-kept White woman at a restaurant in the downtown financial district. She was not bad looking, a little on the chunky side with greying red hair. Even clad in an expensive leather winter coat, he could tell she had above average size breasts and full mature behind. He suspected she was like other White women he brought to this area. She was slumming for Black cock.
"You sure about this, ma'am? This is a pretty rough neighborhood."
She fixed him with her steely gaze, the gaze that chilled the souls of her most hardened managers. "If I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it!" Her voice, though commanding, was heavily slurred and she was unsteady on her feet. Lately she tended to drink more than was her norm. Her physician advised her to watch her alcohol intake. He said that the Hormone Replacement Therapy he had her on could exacerbate the effects of alcohol.
The cabdriver yanked the cab in gear, and headed back downtown.
Tight ass bitch!
She had misgivings as she stared at the receding tail lights of the cab. The driver was probably right. This was not the same neighborhood she frequented many years ago. Then it was an upscale yuppie enclave with numerous interesting bistros and loft apartments.
However, Julia was on a mission. Several years ago, after an extensive search, a detective agency she hired located her adoptee son. He was 15 years old. Julia read the report. She had her lawyers sat up a clandestine trust fund to help with his education. The detective agency provided periodic reports.
In the intervening years, as needed, she stepped in to help him financially. Quietly, she sat up a trust fund for him. Purchasing this building was such an intervention. However, she kept her distance. He was the result of her youthful indiscretions, days when casual sex dominated her life.
Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought. The person on the other side of this door is my child but has not been part of my life. I owe him nothing.
What drew her was the irony of him working in this particular bar. It looked much as it had 25 years before when it was a trendy bar in a yuppie neighborhood. A smile tugged at the corners of her thin lips as she glanced up at the second floor. It was there that she did the dirty deed. Up there her son was conceived.
I was a different person back then
.
Julia took a deep breath, opened, and stepped through the door. For a moment, she felt uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Except for pictures taken by the detective agency, she had not seen him since she gave him up for adoption.
Chapter 2
Jamaal watched the mature White woman enter the bar. She was out of place in this neighborhood. She was well maintained, from the fire engine red Versace dress and matching shoes to her tanned skin. Her greying red hair topped a lightly freckled triangular face with wide set almond shaped eyes. Her lips formed a straight hard line on her face. Her direct unblinking stare was unnerving.
As she unbuttoned her coat and turned to hang it on the hook by the door, he could see her breasts were full and pendulous. They had the decided sag of an older woman They jiggled slightly above the bodice of her dress as she walked to the bar. Her dress stopped just above the knee, displaying toned legs. He put her at late forties to fifties.
Jamaal smiled. He recognized the breed. She was probably a cougar on the prowl. She looked to be a well off suburban housewife slumming for Black cock. He watched as she sat decorously on the barstool, crossed her legs with her ankle on her thigh showing a lot of leg.
"Yes ma'am! How can I help you?"
"A martini please, extra dry
." I really don't need another drink. I'll have one and get a cab.
Julia felt a tightness in her chest as the bartender turned to make her drink. So, this was him. This was the result of a wild night with that long forgotten Black jazz band. The detectives had taken pictures. She knew what he looked like. However, seeing him in the flesh was different. He was actually quite good looking.
He was tall, maybe 6' 1' or so, 190 pounds. The 3/4 sleeve shirt showed muscular biceps and arms. His jeans fit his ass so tight, they looked sprayed on. Any other time...! She shook her head, clearing the lustful thoughts. Except for the occasional bedroom romp with anonymous stranger or a fortunate subordinate, her days of promiscuity were behind her.
His father was one of three Black musicians who played on a bandstand in the rear of the bar. There was a pool table there now. Even then, she had no hang-ups about Black men or the mystique of Black cock. She was honest with herself. She just loved to fuck.
"Here you go, Miss."
Thank you...uh...what is your name?"
"Jamaal."
"Thank you, Jamaal."
Julia watched him as he moved down the bar. He seemed confident. He held her eye when they talk and he was not ashamed to take a hard look at her tits. She suspected the apple had not fallen too far from the tree.
Chapter 3
She glanced up at the ceiling. Back then, she knew what was going to happen when she followed the band members upstairs to that filthy storage room. And it did. They all fucked her. They took her in every position possible for three men to take a woman. They came in her mouth, her pussy and, yes, her ass. She was even airtight. A shiver shook her body as she thought of that night of debauchery.
Even now, 25 years later, she got moist thinking of the sheer animalistic rutting of their act. Recognizing a bitch in heat, they quenched her fire with their hot cum. She smiled to herself as she recalled leaking cum all over her car seat on the drive home.
I was a real slut back then.
A few weeks later, she realized she was pregnant. She never entertained any thought of finding the band or determining who his father was. That was water under the bridge.
She told her parents. She lied about how she got pregnant. She did admit to having a Black lover. Her mother was stern and reproachful. She was ashamed that her daughter could stoop so low. A Negro musician! Really!
Her father was more hurt then angry. He chided her while embracing her as she cried. Their religion forbade abortion. He arranged for her to stay with a distant aunt and have the baby. She never saw the newborn. She signed the adoption papers and got on with her life.
As she grew older, married, and had two more children, she wondered how the baby she gave up fared. Her parents strongly discouraged trying to locate him. It was after they died in the crash of their private jet and she assumed control of the family business that she began the search to find her first born.
Chapter 4
"Is this your bar, Jamaal?" She knew better but it was a polite conversation starter.
Jamaal stopped washing glasses and looked down the bar. He caught her checking him out as he washed glasses. She really was not his type. She was too old with too many miles on her.
Nice jugs, he thought. But like this building, she has seen better days.
"Kinda sorta," he laughed, "a few years back, I got a certified letter offering me a job as manager of this bar. It's part of some kind of private real estate investment trust. I met with an attorney and he said, with some oversight, I had free hand to run it as I saw fit."
Julia felt an odd pride as she sipped her drink. She had arranged to buy the building and had her lawyers set up the trust. She wanted to know that this oldest of her three children was secure. They reported that, aside from the fact he had the sexual proclivities of a tomcat, he was a good honest businessman. She smiled inwardly at the report. She was something of an alley cat herself.
