Avon Calling Ch. 1byStardog Champion©
Despite the fact that she had lived in Chicago for almost 15 years, for a small town country girl like Ida Morgan, living in a city the size of Chicago was a daunting daily task. When her husband had accepted the promotion from the manufacturing company he worked, that necessitated the Morgan's move from Cedar Rapids to Chi-town, Ida had been far from crazy about it. With the second of their three children getting ready to go off and start college at the time back in 1986 however, the family needed the added income that came with the move.
As Ida looked back 15 years later, she accepted that the move to the big city had been for the best. After successfully putting all three of their kids through college, having each of them bare a grandchild already, and seeing the way her husband, Bruce, had climbed the corporate ladder, all the way to Vice President, Ida saw the harvested fruit of their difficult decision a decade and a half earlier.
For Ida, a 55 year old woman with a bachelors degree in marketing that had never been put to use, after all of her kids grew up and were out of the house for good, she discovered she had an ungodly amount of time and energy on her hands. Tiring quickly of the normal social outlets for rich women her age, Ida thankfully stumbled into an opportunity in 1994, that would help her build up a glowing sense of accomplishment as well as a great way to supplement the couple's retirement fund.
The woman that had been Ida's Avon representative ever since she had moved to Chicago, Emily Catchings, had finally decided to cash in her chips and move to the condo in Florida that her and her husband had bought. On a lark, Emily had asked Ida one afternoon if she would be interested in taking over all of her existing accounts.
Thinking Ida had the perfect temperaments as well as the right look and personality to highlight the line of beauty products, Emily was pleasantly surprised when her friend and customer reluctantly agreed to give it a try.
Not use to actually having to work on a consistent basis outside the home, Ida didn't know quite what she had gotten herself into at first. Once she gained a comfort level with the demands of the job and expanded her client base however, the money started rolling in.
From late '94 to 1998, Ida Morgan's life was a good as it had ever been. For the first time in her adult life, she felt vital both in and outside the home. To actually have some spending money of her own was also a neat diversion as well.
Having saved up nearly $25,000 for just part time work over those 4 years, Ida and Bruce began making serious plans for their own retirement.
When Bruce Morgan went for his yearly checkup in late '98 however, the smooth ride the couple had been on suddenly hit a huge speed bump. Bruce had been diagnosed with kidney disease and had to go through a difficult surgery that forced him to take a early retirement from his company.
Even though they had enough money in the bank to pay the bills and insurance covered a good deal of the medical expenses, Ida suddenly felt the need to become the breadwinner in the family while Bruce was ill.
With the money in their retirement fund drying up, Ida dedicated herself to a fulltime pursuit of her Avon selling to maintain the household income. Ida went from spending 10-15 hours a week on the job to well over 40 and sometimes as much as 50 hours a week while Bruce was in and out of the hospital.
Even when he finally came home to stay, the combination of her husband's grouchy attitude and the addictive emotional outlet that her own work gave her, kept Ida Morgan pounding the pavement. The lure of a commission check that was nearly quadruple what she was making before she went full time and the connections that all her new customers provided kept Ida's head spinning to keep up with all her accounts.
One of her regular customers was a middle aged black woman named Deloris Franklin, who managed a Burger King that Ida frequently stopped at for lunch when she was downtown.
Deloris lived in a housing project on the West side of town and over the years had provided several contacts for Ida's blossoming customer list. Many of those women that Deloris turned Ida on to were either too poor to afford a car, many didn't work for various reasons and a few were too elderly to venture out often. Deloris often played the role of courier for Ida in getting the products to several of those ladies and then in turn, getting Ida her money.
There were certain occasions however, when Deloris and Ida couldn't get their schedules to jive and Ida had to take it upon herself to make a special visit to deliver merchandise and collect payment in the mostly black neighborhood.
The last place Ida Morgan thought she'd be servicing while selling Avon was a low income housing project but most of the people she encountered were very sweet and Ida was frankly surprised by how much money that particular clientele brought in, upwards of about 15 % of her total Avon income.
The worries about her safety that she, her husband, and many of their friends had about going into those neighborhoods all turned out to be unfounded. When she did venture to those places, Ida usually planned it out to where she would be going on mid mornings when the sun was out and all the bad people she worried about, in the stereotypical reaches of her mind, were still in bed sleeping off their hangovers.
There were only a few instances when Ida got as much as an occasional stare from the men and women that hung around the projects. Even though she did feel like a sore white thumb sticking out on a black hand, Ida usually walked peacefully on by, holding her tongue and breath as she went about her business.
* * * * *
For over 30 years, Bruce Morgan had been everything Ida could have hoped for in a husband and a friend. He had been the best provider, confidant, lover and supporter Ida could have prayed for when she said "I DO" in the Summer of '69. Through thick and thin, Ida and Bruce stared down each obstacle that blocked their path, together.
When Bruce was confronted with his kidney disease and impending surgery, Ida knew that it would be just another trial put in front of them by God that they would eventually overcome.
Three and a half years after Bruce finally came home for good from the hospital, Ida secretly knew he wasn't the same man she had married. The combination of self esteem loss that came without having his job along with diminished ability to do many of the hobbies he cherished, was a rough blow for her husband to take.
Even after her change of life, Ida had retained her vitality for intimacy that mirrored her socially bubbly personality. She completely understood that the plethora of problems Bruce faced, from the normal effects of aging to the aftereffects of his surgery, gradually cut into his interest and stamina in the bedroom.
As time went on however, Ida could clearly sense that Bruce was giving up in all phases of his life. While he outwardly supported her new role as primary breadwinner, she knew he was old fashioned to the end and could tell his mood worsened every month when it was time to sign the checks to pay the family's bills.
In the bedroom, Bruce steadily lost interest in pleasing her ,as well as himself, for that matter until his thirst for sexual gratification was nearly nonexistent. There were occasional nights when Ida could coax Bruce into being his old self, but those nights were few and far between.
Old fashioned to the end as well, Ida never even thought of bringing up her frustration to Bruce even though when she looked into his eyes late at night, she knew he felt it.
* * * * *
Ida Morgan sat behind the wheel of her parked Olds Cutlass, checking herself in the rearview mirror. Ever vain, even in her mid 50's, Ida patted at her curly, dirty blonde hair and touched up her makeup and lipstick as she mustered the courage to get out of her car and make the few quick deliveries she had to the low income housing tenement where several of her poorer customers lived.
Parked in a glorified vacant lot at the corner of 3rd and Caldwell, Ida looked out of her driver's side window and saw the fresh remnants of a party from the night before. Four Old English Malt Liquor bottles, several discarded roach clips and one gerry-rigged crack pipe littered the pavement causing Ida to click on the denial button in her psyche as she reminded herself which side of the tracks she was currently on.
"Why in the Hell are you even worrying about making yourself look presentable?" Ida sarcastic inner voice asked.
"Because you have an image and a product line to sell... that's why," Ida immediately answered herself out loud, as she went back to primping her features.
When her courage of conviction and requisite denial were in place, Ida gathered the three bags of merchandise she needed, a dozen product catalogues, locked the car door, checked it twice and then made the two block walk through Chicago's mean streets to make her deliveries.
With this trip being her 10th such visit into the proverbial heart of darkness, it had almost become routine for Ida even though she was the only white face, it seemed, for miles around. As the wooden click of her modest heels echoed off the concrete sidewalk below, Ida successfully navigated the maze of pedestrians between her and her intended target.
Having been married for over 30 years and raised three children, Ida had long ago developed the ability to block out irrelevant stimuli and that talent played a crucial role in dismissing the occasional catcall, whistle, racist comment, obscene gesture or innuendo as she made her delivery stops in that neighborhood.
Stepping through the lobby door of the tenement, Ida politely said "thank you" to the kind gentleman that held the door open for her even though she resisted the temptation to look up make eye contact with him.
Looking at her package list and seeing that her first delivery was up on the 4th floor, Ida headed for the building stairwell, knowing the elevator would be out of service as usual.
Ida quickly scooted up the cluttered stairwell, purposefully dodging the bottles, plastic cups and discarded wads of bubble gum that littered her path. As she ascended the second floor landing and prepared to make her way up to the third, Ida attention was suddenly grabbed by a series of strange noises coming from her right. With her primal fear of mice foremost in her mind, Ida's expectation when she turned was that a few rats were about to come scurrying out of the corner.
What she saw when her eyes finally focused on the cause of the noise, in the dim light of the stairway, was the furthest thing from scared mice.
What Ida Morgan did see was the backside of a heavyset young black girl with long hair as she straddled the waist of a barely visible man in front of her.
"OOOHHH," Ida wailed in a high pitched shriek of surprise as the reality of what she had accidentally stumbled upon quickly sunk in.
Suddenly feeling as if she were a rat trapped in the corner, Ida started to shake noticeably as she decided whether to continue her journey upstairs to make her deliveries or to just retreat back downstairs and leave the two sexually engaged kids to their tawdry act.
Ida could see the whites of the man's eyes gleam out over the girl's writhing shoulder and she instantly knew he saw her standing there, 15 feet away. It seemed as if his eyes had trained on her paralyzed face as the hefty girl wrapped around his waist frantically fucked him with her ample weight.
Ida had seemingly lost track of time as she openly gawked at the lurid display unfolding in the stairway in front of her. She could clearly see the young girl's brown miniskirt hiked up all the way to her waist as her chubby thighs hung out lewdly, shielding Ida's view of the young man's crotch as the fat black girl crudely smashed her pussy against his cock.
All Ida could discern of the young man from the waist up was the bandana that he had tightly wrapped around his head and the two cold focused eyes that had locked onto hers. Below the waist, Ida could see that the young man's bulky blue jeans were pulled all the way down to his ankles and his black hairy legs spread out like two tree trunks from the floor as he held his back against the wall for support.
The half faceless black stranger's eyes seemed to be inexorably glued to Ida's as the young black girl thrashed wildly on his jock. Ida felt her insides experiencing a strange burning sensation as the black man focused intently on her even though his hands were matter of factly cinched into the girl's asscheeks, holding her tightly against his body as she mindlessly got herself off.
The fact that all three were in a completely public place while all this was unfolding was temporarily lost on Ida as she stood there, blatantly transfixed by the blunt reality of it all. Watching the fat girl's ass thrusts become more and more frantic, Ida's feminine intuition told her that the girl was getting ready to succumb to orgasm as the boy she was throwing herself against firmly held his ground, continuing still to burn a hole through Ida with his dark orbs.
Finally deciding she had enough room to squeeze by the copulating couple and continue upstairs, Ida somehow got her feet to move and proceeded to make a break for it.
Ida's feet felt like blocks of concrete and her queasy stomach turned crazily as she inched by the crudely disgusting public display of affection.
The young man's eyes, that were so brazenly locked on Ida's, followed her as she tried easing by, similar to the way the eyes of a haunting picture seem to trace the observer around a room.
Even after she had turned her head and pressed forward up the steps, she could still feel the heat and the weight of the black man's stare as she fumbled her feet up to the fourth floor.
When she finally did reach her desired floor, Ida stopped for a moment to gather her breath and that's when she heard the sound of the girl below let loose with her orgasm, filling the chamber of the stairwell with the firecracker like sounds of her overflowing lust. Ida stood there with her back to the steps for several moments, transfixed by the sounds of female release rifling around her, visually picturing what it must have looked like as the chubby black girl allowed her cravings to spill out against the nameless stud that was providing the dick for her.
Somewhere deep in the pit of Ida's belly, she knew the black stranger was somehow picturing her as he allowed the slut he was fucking to cum all over him. When his gruff sounds of orgasm came filtering up the stairwell a few moments later, Ida sensed her own image was as much a reason for the kid to cum as the girl wrapped around his waist.
Standing like a statue at the top of the 4th floor landing, Ida couldn't believe how much she had started to sweat from the combination of nervous energy and the mad dash upstairs.
After she had gathered herself enough to plan out the rest of her delivery schedule, Ida picked her three large white Avon bags back up and breathlessly went about her business.
Once all the deliveries had been made and money collected, Ida hesitantly descended back down the only way out of the building, down the same stairway she had come up. To her everlasting gratitude, the black teenagers that she had encountered on her way up were nowhere to be found.
Ida cringed noticeably when she passed the spot where the two kids had been hooked up and she swore she could still feel the heat coming off their bodies, the smell of their intermingled sweat and even the sounds of their flesh colliding as she unsteadily passed by.
Ida hurried out of the building as fast as she politely could, trying not to let any of that awful sight sink into her memory bank as she headed to her car to get out of that neighborhood as quickly as possible.
Once she was back to the safety of her car, the whole trip home was a blur for Ida as the seediness of the projects gave way to the more plush surroundings of her side of the tracks.
Dragging her paperwork into the house once she arrived, Ida gave her husband a fleeting peck on the cheek as she passed him working on a 'ship in a bottle' kit on the kitchen table.
"Do you have to work on that right there?" Ida almost asked sarcastically, wishing Bruce wouldn't clutter up the entire eating area with his toys.
"How was your day, Honey?" Bruce inquired, without looking up from his tedious task.
"Fine," Ida curtly replied. "I dropped off a few things... met Renee for lunch then did a little shopping," Ida added, purposefully leaving out the fact that she made a business stop in the very neighborhood Bruce had told her not to venture alone.
Deciding it would be too tough to stand near him for any length of time without eventually telling him the truth about her day, Ida retreated upstairs for a relaxing bath to clear her head, desperate to soak off the day's accumulated weight.
* * * * *
Whether it was the graphic nature of what she had been privy to in the housing tenement's stairwell or the simple fact that she hadn't had sex in almost a month, all Ida Morgan could think about for the remainder of her lazy evening at home was the vague but growing tingling sensation, nibbling between her thighs.
After a quiet and romantic dinner with Bruce, Ida took the rare opportunity to bring a bottle of wine up from the cellar. Knowing her husband was a two glass limit from his doctor, after the day she had endured, Ida was more than happy to make up his fair share. And as the liquid courage took effect, making Ida's flirtatious advances clear enough that Bruce finally did get the message, the twinkle was in both of their eyes as they went, hand in hand, upstairs to bed.
Later that night, a drunk but fully functioning Ida rested on her back as her husband gracefully and lovingly used his mouth and hands to tantalize her entire upper body.
"Ohh... yeaahhh... kisss mmee... ahhh... right there... yesss," Ida whispered, feeling Bruce's lips cascade over her neck and shoulders. "Go down and lick my breasts baby... pleasseeee. "
Reaching over with her free hand, Ida attempted to grab Bruce's penis through his flannel pajama bottoms. Just as she snuck her fingers inside the peehole however, Ida remembered that he was on a medication that severely limited his ability to maintain an erection.
Rather than trying to fight a losing battle, Ida simply removed her hand, laid back, and allowed the rest of Bruce's functioning body to give her the much needed release she had been sorely craving.
Scooting her body up the length of the bed slightly, far enough to give Bruce clear access to the surprisingly swollen lips of her vagina, Ida spread her short legs apart far enough so that her husband could sink his face all the way between her naked thighs.
As soon as Bruce's lips met her pussy, Ida shrieked out loudly and dug her fingers into her husband's thinning hair. By the time he had driven his tongue all the way between Ida's nectar laced folds, her bare feet were swaying uncontrollably, a foot or so above the mattress.
When she felt the front row of Bruce's teeth graze firmly against her exposed clit, Ida bit down hard on her lower lip to fend off her inevitable orgasm for as long as possible, determined to enjoy this rare treat, for as long as she could, as she savored the exploding colors behind her clenched eyelids.
Tenderly rolling her fingernails around each of Bruce's ears while he ardently licked his tongue around her perfume scented pubic V, Ida's mind drifted, like a runaway channel changer, through a million random images.
As Ida wallowed in the swirling abyss of her sexual pleasure, the glorious colors shading her mind gradually took shape. The image that those random bolts of electric light took caused Ida to shiver to the core. Still, she just couldn't bring herself to repress it.