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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual act are at least eighteen years of age.


Chapter 1

Serena Lee slurped at the large chocolate malt. She wasn’t really hungry, but Jackie insisted that she drink it.

“You need to put some weight on you, girl,” Jackie laughed as she affectionately popped her dishtowel at Serena’s bony rump.

Serena Lee and Jackie Washington stood at five foot four, warm brown eyes to brown eyes, but there the similarity ended.

Serena Lee was bone thin, with pasty white skin splotched by orange freckles. Her long bright carrot orange hair hung limply down to her the back of her knees. She wore a bra, simply for modesty’s sake, but had absolutely no breasts whatsoever.

Jackie’s skin was the color of a chocolate candy bar (that’s why I’m so sweet’ she would laugh) and wore her black hair cropped close to the scalp. Her breasts were large as were her hips and rear end. She had a bit of a paunch to her belly as well.

“I really like her,” Jackie confided to Chad Fontenot, Serena’s boyfriend.

“Yeah?” he smiled and pulled another rack of clean dishes from the dishwasher. “Me too.”

“Ooh, you know what I mean,” Jackie laughed. “I wanted to hate her, but I just can’t.”

Unbeknownst to Serena, Chad and Jackie had enjoyed one hot afternoon, making love to each other. Jackie, after the thrill had worn off, had told Chad that while it had been very enjoyable, Louisiana in 1978 just wasn’t going to be very kind to a black girl and white boy loving each other.

He had to agree with her; there were just too many small-minded people that wouldn’t be able to look beyond the color of their skin. They both agreed that that afternoon would be their ‘little secret,’ there would be no benefit in telling Serena, or anyone else about it. They weren’t ashamed of it, or ashamed of their friendship though.


Charles McCall sat at the red light, taking the time to re-examine the interior of brand new Mercedes Benz 500 SEL. The tan leather was butter soft to the touch, and smelled great. It’s light color was a nice compliment to the pearl white exterior of the powerful car.

He looked over; three teenage girls had pulled up to the red light in a battered Datsun B210. They were openly admiring the car as they sat, side by side. The light turned green and he easily left them behind; the large motor responding magnificently to his touch.

That’s when he saw it, the 1949 Indian Chief. It was parked in front of some greasy spoon diner, the ‘Roundabout.’ By the time he saw it, he was whizzing past the diner too fast to pull into the parking lot, so he had to wait until the next traffic light to make the U-Turn.

He had to laugh as the three girls tooted their horn as they zoomed past him.


Jackie sat down at the counter next to Serena, who was gamely trying to finish the last few spoonfuls of the thick malt. She swiveled in the seat and faced the large window that looked out onto Veteran’s Memorial Boulevard.

“Ooh, I got him!” she perked up and called out as a tall blonde haired man got out of a Mercedes Benz.

Zoë, the other waitress looked up and shrugged her shoulders. Jackie was still new at witnessing; she would learn in time. The people that drove big flashy cars and wore expensive suits often expected special treatment, overzealous service, and left the stingiest of tips. If they tipped at all. They seemed to think that their money and prestige entitled them to the servitude of everyone else.

The man was good looking enough, with his shaggy blonde hair, blonde mustache, and nice looking suit. Zoë shrugged her shoulders again, and put the check down in front of her own customer.

“Who owns that Indian out front?” Charles asked loudly as he entered the diner.

“I do,” Gary answered from the grill.

“I’ll give you five thousand for it, cash,” Charles offered.

“Not for sale, man,” Gary smiled and shook his head.

: Six thousand,” Charles countered.

“Nah, man, that bike was my old man’s bike; left it to me when he died last month,” Gary smiled.

“Oh, well, then, I understand,” Charles smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry about your old man. They are such sweet rides, though.”

“Yeah, fucking shame they got them helmet laws, though,” Gary, agreed. “You got one?”

“I wish, man,” Charles said. “Was saving up my money to get this cherry Indian Scout but had to give that up.”

“Why?” Gary asked.

“Girlfriend was late, had to do the right thing, had to finish up school, you know, life got in the way,” Charles said.

“Yeah, man, sometimes life’s like that, you know?” Gary agreed.

“So, what’s a man got to do to get some service around here?” Charles asked loudly.

“How ’bout sitting down?” Jackie asked and Charles found a booth near the window where he could look out at his car, and at the Indian Chief.

“Oh, no, I already know what I want,” he smiled as she handed him a plastic laminated menu.

“Yeah?” she smiled. “What Kadıköy Olgun Escort you want?”

“I want a greasy cheeseburger, as greasy and nasty as you can make it, loaded with unions and mayonnaise and mustard, but leave them nasty pickles off of it, give me some French fries with it,” he said.

“Comes with fries,” Jackie told him.

“And, what you got to drink?” he aced.

“Coke, Tab, Sprite, sweet tea,” Jackie intoned.

“How about a big old strawberry malt?” he asked.

“Yeah, we got that,” she smiled widely. She was real proud of the attention to detail she gave the malts she made.

“Want them onions grilled?” Gary called out to Charles when Jackie gave him the check.

“You can do that?” Charles asked. “That would be great!”


Charles McCall laughed to himself; Melanie Richards, his current girlfriend, would never be caught dead in a place like this. He’d not looked at the menu, but he was willing to bet that ‘Health’ foods, ‘Rabbit Food’ as he called it, was not on the menu.

He’d met the thirty nine year old real estate agent at a party his partner was throwing at his new condominium. Melanie had been the real estate agent that had sold the condo. He was attracted to her white blonde hair, the deep tan and the large breasts. Melanie sent him some pretty strong signals of her own and he asked her for her phone number.

He found out that the hair was dyed and the breasts were likewise artificial. She smiled sheepishly as her thick brown hair came into view, along with the tan lines.

Her appearance wasn’t the only thing fake about her and he often wondered why he didn’t just tell the shrill, pretentious woman to take a long walk on a short pier.


He openly admired Jackie’s lush figure as she carefully put the plate, malt, and bottle of ketchup on the table.

“Anything else?” she smiled and he smiled back.

“Not at this moment, but I’ll let you know,” he said and dug in with great gusto.

Again, he checked her out as she walked back to her perch next to the skinny red head. Melanie would be spitting insults, none too quietly, about how fat the girl was, how all colored people were lazy and dishonest and couldn’t be trusted. In his eyes, the girl wasn’t fat at all; she was healthy, womanly.

He looked back at his new car. The main reason he’d bought such an expensive automobile was to impress Melanie, and to rub it in Loretta’s face.

Chapter 2

Loretta Timmons had been a very attractive red head and the young law student was smitten as he watched her find a seat in the front of the classroom. She finally sat down and looked up at him. His blew eyes looked into her green eyes and despite wanting to set the impression that he was a ‘no-nonsense, straight shooting guy,’ smiled at her and blushed as she smiled back.

She easily aced the ‘Business Law’ class Charles McCall was teaching. At final exam, she waited until the last student had finally wandered out of the classroom before bringing her sheaf of papers up to him.

“Here you go, Mr. McCall,” she cooed, making sure he could see down the front of her blouse.

“I want to screw,” was written very boldly on the front of the examination paper. In 1958, women did not come on so boldly.

“Give me a call, Mr. McCall,” she smiled sweetly and made sure to put a lot of swing into her walk.


“Charles, I’m late,” she tearfully sobbed into the telephone.

There was only one thing to do and he married her. In July of 1959, Robin Ann McCall was born. The red headed girl would be the only child of Charles and Loretta McCall and thirteen years later, Charles and Loretta McCall would be divorced.

Divorce was nearly unheard of in 1972, but Charles had had enough of trying to satisfy Loretta’s flighty whims and fads. Besides that, in her ever-increasing search for happiness, Loretta was not too faithful.

“She takes up tennis, and screws the tennis instructor,” Charles told his divorce lawyer. “Golf? She fucks the man-hating behemoth that’s supposed to be teaching her. Believe that?? I’m paying this bitch forty bucks a lesson, and all Loretta’s learning how to do is eat pussy. I had to pay the Cadillac mechanic to fix her car, and fuck her too and those silly ass classes? I haven’t seen one bit of macramé yet.”

Charles smiled widely when Loretta’s attorney demanded full custody of Robin. He knew that it was just a ploy on Loretta’s part; Loretta didn’t want Robin any more than he did.

“Okay,” he agreed.

The judge, the victim of a wandering wife, granted sole custody to Loretta, but did not grant her request for five hundred a month in alimony.

“You have a college degree, put it to use,” he coldly told her. “Two hundred a month is plenty of money for child support, see that it goes toward the child.”


Robin spent more time at her father’s apartment than she did at her own home. Two hundred a month did not go very far when Loretta’s house note was a whopping one hundred and forty Kadıköy Sarışın Escort three a month. (She’d been genuinely surprised that Charles had not fought her for the house; she had been surprised at how little he fought for anything at all. The fact that he was glad to be rid of her had never occurred to her.)

Loretta had a college degree, true enough, but in the early 1970s, it wasn’t very easy for a woman to find a job, and even harder for a divorced woman to find work. And as flighty and easily distracted as Loretta was, once she found a job, holding on to it proved to be somewhat difficult.

Finally, she settled down in her current job, a salesclerk in the lingerie section of JC Penney’s. There were many things she did not like about her job, but the main complaint was that JC Penney’s allowed colored people to shop there.


Charles used a couple of French fries to mop up the last of the ketchup from his plate and smiled in satisfaction. He felt full, not still slightly hungry like he did when he and Melanie went out to eat.

“That’s what I like, a man that enjoys his food,” Jackie said and slapped the ticket down on the table.

He smiled at that; it was obvious that she enjoyed her food as well.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked her as he wiped his mustache clean.

“Jackie, you?” she smiled widely.

“Charles. Charles McCall,” he smiled and looked at the ticket.

“Hi Charlie, you just take that up to the cash register,” she said and pointed to Zoë.

He laughed; no one ever called him ‘Charlie.’ She gathered up his dirty dishes and walked off.

“Y’all come back any time, hear?” she called out over her shoulder.

He watched her round backside in the snug jeans and nodded in appreciation. He pulled out his money clip and peeled off a ten-dollar bill. He thought about it for a second, then pulled out his business card holder and pulled out one of his business cards and scribbled something on it and left that on the table as well.


“You got to be shitting me!” Jackie crowed when she saw the ten-dollar tip he’d left her. The total bill of his meal had been five dollars and eighteen cents.

She burst into merry laughter; he’d left a business card, but had scratched out ‘Charles’ and written in ‘Charlie.’

Chapter 3

Charles pulled into his assigned parking spot at his apartment complex and walked up the stairs to his apartment.

Once inside, he checked his answering machine. The red light blinked twice, paused, then blinked twice, and indicating that he had two messages. Melanie had laughed at him when he’d paid seventy-nine dollars for it, but even she had to agree, it was worth it.

The first one was from Loretta, shrilly demanding that he have a talk with Robin, who had managed to have another accident in her Corvette. : Thank God, she wasn’t hurt, but she really needs to learn that money doesn’t grow on trees…”

“And she’ll learn that just as soon as you do,” he laughed out loud and erased the message, not bothering to hear it all the way to the end.

The second one was from Melanie, just along litany of catty and snide comments and complaints. He likewise erased the message without bothering to hear the end of it.

He got himself a beer out of the refrigerator and reached for a glass, then shrugged his shoulders; Melanie wasn’t there, he could drink out of the bottle if he wanted to. He sipped the beer and wondered why he’d never noticed it before, but both Melanie and Loretta sounded a lot alike.

The telephone in the living room began to ring and he instinctively reached for it, then shook his head no and let it ring until his answering machine picked up.

“Well, I guess you’re out and about, enjoying that fancy new Mercedes-Benz,” Melanie’s voice cut through. “Must be nice. Give me a call; I’ll be up until then thirty, eleven o’clock, okay?”

He turned on the television and listlessly pushed the channel button on the remote control. The cable company had promised fifty four channels of entertainment, sixty three if you bought the ‘Premium’ Service, but so far, he’d not been all that impressed. He stopped, though, when he hit channel sixty-one and saw a stunning black woman shrugging out of her blouse. She smiled at the camera and reached behind her to unhook her black lace bra.

Charles found himself getting quite an erection as her large nipples were pinched and tweaked by a pair of white hands. A nude white male stepped from behind her and knelt to take one of the large dark nipples into his mouth and she moaned; an obviously fake pornographic moan. The man unzipped the girl’s shorts and she slipped them down and off her legs, revealing a thick black bush to the camera.

Charles imagined what Jackie would look like nude and felt his cock twitch spasmodically in his trousers. He wondered if her nipples were nice and big like ones he was looking at right now. Was her pubic hair thick and unkempt like the pornographic star possessed, or did she trim it to a neat Kadıköy Şişman Escort little triangle?

Loretta’s red bush was thick, unkempt, natural, but she never seemed to take the time to clean herself ‘down there,’ so Charles never went down on her, like the man on television was doing to the moaning and thrashing black woman. Melanie’s brown bush was also thick, but she cleaned it to the point that it was all but devoid of any taste at all.

Performing oral sex was done grudgingly, and as soon as he filled her mouth with his seed, she ran to the bathroom and noisily spit out his semen. Gargling, then more spitting followed this.

He unzipped his trousers and edged his boxers down, freeing his cock. Two strokes and he spurted heavily into the handkerchief.

“Damn right, but I’ll bet that woman likes to fuck,” Charles muttered to himself.

He shrugged out of his clothes and hung the suit in the front closet, to take to the dry cleaners in the morning. He finished the beer, turned off the television, and went to bed, never bothering to call Melanie.


Jackie handed Gary his spare helmet and playfully rapped her knuckles on his helmet. She walked up the two flights of stairs and smiled down at Gary as he honked the motorcycle’s horn then loudly accelerated away.

Jackie let herself into her apartment and smiled at Tawny, her orange cat. If the landlord found out she had a cat, he could demand the one hundred and fifty dollar non-refundable pet deposit, or kick her out on the spot.

“How’s Mama’s bad boy?” she asked the cat, then checked his food and water bowls.

“Damn, but I’d like to see that mother fucker come back,” she laughed as she counted out her tips and stuffed the bills and coins into her small lock box. She had made twenty-four dollars that day, not a bad take on a slow night, but his ten-dollar tip had been the largest one she’d gotten since she’d started working there.

She shrugged out of her clothes and walked into the small bathroom. She made quick work of cleaning up; the hot water did not last long in her apartment. A quick pass of her razor over her underarms, leas, and bush, and she was done. She liked to keep her pubic mound neatly trimmed; it was just easier to keep her clean that way.

She flopped down on her queen-sized bed, turned on her thirteen inch black and white television and found The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was just about to begin. She was sound asleep before he introduced his first guest and did not wake up until she heard ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ begin to play.

Chapter 4

Expensive automobile or not, morning rush hour traffic in New Orleans was a nightmare. Charles gritted his teeth and inched forward, then seethed as the idiot in front of him waved a large tractor-trailer into the same lane. Finally, he pulled up to the BNO building’s parking lot, and sighed as he was finally able to relax.

He smiled as Katherine Wu, his Chinese receptionist greeted him warmly. No matter what, she was always in a great mood. And she swore that Katherine was her real name, even if she was an immigrant from China.

Melanie had met her, and then shrilly insisted that Charles fire her at once. Charles locked his blue eyes coldly on Melanie’s tight face until she stopped talking.

“Never, ever, ever tell me how to run my office,” he told her in as cold a tone as he could.

Melanie had to concede that she’d underestimated Charles, as well as overestimated her own influence over him. That did not stop her from making snide comments about ‘that slant eyed gook’ whenever possible.


“Your girlfriend called,” Katherine said and handed him a piece of paper with her precise handwriting on it.

“God, what does she want?” Charles groaned.

In answer Katherine pointed to her left hand and Charles smiled and shook his head no.


Melanie was cool to the point of being frigid when Charles finally did call. Her cool facade shattered when he did not seem to be affected by her frosty demeanor and cheerfully hung up on her.

“Let me talk to your boss,” she screamed at Katherine who irritated her even further by politely asking who was calling, then putting her on hold.

“Hey, Melanie, don’t ever scream at Katherine again,” Charles told her when he did finally pick up.

“I don’t hear from you all day yesterday, can’t get you at home, can’t get you at the office, then when you finally do bother picking up a phone and letting me know you’re all right, you act like it’s some big inconvenience to talk to me,” she whined.

“You know what?” he said. “That’s a great description, ‘a big inconvenience.’ Yes, that’s what it is, a big inconvenience.”

“Fuck you!” she screamed into the telephone.

“No, Melanie, I will not fuck you, but thanks for the invitation,” he cheerfully said and hung up.

“Yes?” Katherine asked when he buzzed her.

“If Miss Richards calls again, please tell her that I am not available,” he cheerfully told her.

“My pleasure,” Katherine cheerfully agreed.


Jackie was her usual cheerful self as she clocked in and began the afternoon chit. Every now and then, she would peer out the front window to see if she saw that big Mercedes-Benz pulling into the parking lot, although she didn’t really expect him back any time soon.

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