Chapter 3
A visit and a visitor
All told, William had been there for about two hours and the night was indeed still young. In fact William suggested we get dressed and head out to a bar. He, of course, knew a place where he could show us a few things that might interest us.
"I don't know how far you want to take this, but I'm going to show you something some people call Black-Owned," he smiled as he buttoned his jeans. "Just something to think about. Maybe you won't believe it happens right here in our little town."
Susan slipped on the same scant dress and sandals after taking a quick shower, and before long we were following William downtown to what turned out to be a place called Joe's. It was a tavern/pool hall catering (you guessed it) to a mostly Black crowd.
We parked beside William and joined him at the entrance, Susan's short, Indian cotton sundress flaring out with each swish of her hips. At the door, William stopped before going in.
"This is just an ordinary bar. Lots of ordinary people having a few beers after work," he said. "But there's a few people I'll point out and explain some things to you. Susan's with me. That's the way it has to be 'cause that way we can control the situation β if there is a situation."
I knew what he meant. If she was with me, every guy in the place would be after her.
"Now, whatever happens, just trust me," He said. "Remember, I'm a bouncer (not at that bar) and I'm used to dealing with drunks."
With that, he went in, holding my wife by the wrist as they went through the door first. He later explained that holding her wrist, and not the hand, indicated to everyone that she was his.
I walked in behind them and into a completely different world.
Well, not completely different. It was just like every other bar except 90 per cent of the people were Black. The 10 per cent who were white were women β with the exception of myself and maybe two other white guys.
It was a big place with three rooms plus a pool hall and a corridor at the back that led to washrooms and I presumed some offices. There was a small stage with a brass pole, but no activity there at the moment. Susan would get to know that pole quite well.
We sat in the smallest of the three rooms β one of half a dozen tables. It was more intimate than the rest of the place and perhaps where a bit of covert activity went on. Most of the white women were there and they all seemed to have a feverish glow about them β as if a child waiting for candy. One woman seated at a table of five or six Black men no doubt had a lot of 'candy' to swallow at some point in the evening. And all were dressed like whores β breasts hanging out of low-cut blouses, skirts that did nothing to cover thongs and G-strings -- or bare pussys. Their makeup was an open invitation to their cunts. And most had an aura of being extremely well used, experienced, and perhaps on their way downhill. One in particular, a bleach-blonde of about 40, was half drunk or half stoned, and didn't seem to notice her blouse was unbuttoned and her large but beginning-to-sag tits were visible to all. Her short skirt was pulled up and her black thong revealed most of her shaved pussy. Even as I looked she ran her fingers under the thin crotch strap and rubbed her self absent-mindedly.
Perhaps it was because most of these women were well known and well used that most eyes turned to Susan as our escort found a table with only two other occupants and gestured for us to sit down. The men's faces showed plenty of interest and the women scowled.
The men at our table knew William and he introduced them as, well, I can't remember who they were. I'm sure both of them have since fucked my wife more than once. Susan was seated between William and one of the men. I sat on the other side of the second man β effectively as far away from Susan as possible at the round table. There were two unoccupied seats left and they were soon filled by two more Black men who had come to check out the new white whore.