"Corn fed." That's what they had called her. Like the heifers Mr. McDermitt raised back home. Emma shook her head. She knew she wasn't ultra sleek like the models in the magazines and on the T V, but Lester had told her that wouldn't matter. Lester had said the agency would like her big titties, her full, round ass. 'Course, Lester said all sorts of nice things when he wanted her to suck his dick. Emma smiled to herself. What Lester didn't know was that he didn't need to say those nice things.
She would have sucked him anyway. She liked it. Her mind replayed the countless times she had gone to her knees inside the old Sunoco gas station where Lester worked. She saw again his veiny shaft, the shiny head, wet with her saliva. She could almost taste his semen, remembering the exciting feel of his throbbing member spurting in her mouth. Just thinking about Lester's little prick made her weak in the knees and wet between her thighs. "Two weeks," she thought. That was how long it had been since she had last taken his penis between her lips, last tasted the salty precum, last felt his hairy balls. She sighed, feeling the hunger.
The sun was bright as she exited the modeling agency's building. She was momentarily blinded. Even without the sun directly in her eyes she might not have seen him standing by the parking meter. Where Emma came from, negroes were almost invisible. "Excuse me," she said as she almost walked right into the man. He smiled at her. "No problem, miss." His words were lyrical, the tilt of his voice almost musical. She looked up shyly at his face, noting him devouring her with his eyes. And why shouldn't he? She had dressed to the nines for the interview with the agency.
Her halter top could barely contain her large breasts, the nipples still hard from her thoughts of Lester's cock, sticking almost through the thin white cotton. Her shorts were tight. She could feel the cheeks poking beneath the jean fabric. The red stiletto heels she wore accentuated the curves of her buttocks. She could never have gone out in public in such an outrageous outfit back home. But here in the city she was unknown and overlooked. Here she was free. Summoning up her resolve, she raised her eyes to meet the appreciative stare of the black man.
"I'm sorry," she apologized in what she considered to be her vampiest voice. "I suppose I should pay attention to where I'm going. It's justβ¦. Well,β¦. It'sβ¦" her voice trailed off, little girl like. The man smiled. "Really, miss, you needn't apologize." His voice was a rich baritone, like the Darth Vader guy in that movie she had seen. She looked him up and down. His brown skin glistened with a light coating of perspiration, shining against his white shirt. The top two buttons were undone. She could see a few tight curls of his chest hair. His pants were tight. So tight! She inhaled reflexively as she noted the bulge extending from his crotch down his left leg. Was it true what she had been told by Irene Simpkins? Lester certainly never bulged like that! She suddenly decided to be bold. It was the city after all! Who knew her here?
"I'm just arrived," she said coyly, tilting her head down and looking up at his face in what she hoped was an openly sexual manner. "I mean, after what I just went through, I could sure use a drink and.. well, I don't know where ANY WHERE isβ¦" Her heart jumped as the man took the bait.
"Perhaps you would care to accompany me then, Missβ¦ ahβ¦"
"Emma," she said, "Emma Jenkins, and you are?"
"Richard. Richard Washington."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Richard. And, yes, please. I could surely do with a drink."
"This way then," he said, holding out his arm. She linked hers through his, smiling at the thought of how audacious, how absolutely scandalous this sight would be back home.
She fell into step with him as he led her down the street.
As they walked down the busy street, arms linked, Emma was surprised to see that no one stopped to gawk, to point, to talk behind shielding hands. In fact, no one noticed the couple at all. They passed several dilapidated storefronts before stopping in front of a door.