New York 1986bygeneralurko©
The flight over from San Francisco was smooth and without incident. Jolie passed through customs unmolested.
A short cab ride from LaGuardia dropped her off at the up-market Silsbury Vale Hotel.
Jolie had been instructed not to write anything down, she had memorised the room number, seven-one-two. Her knock was answered by a heavy set man in his sixties. He was wearing a suit but no tie.
As she took in a breath to speak the man raised a finger to his lips.
'I'm here for...'
She just managed to catch the look of annoyance cross the old man's face before he slammed the door shut in her face.
After knocking again the door was opened much more slowly this time and only far enough for the man to fit his face in the gap. His finger was already at his lips. He waited for Jolie to nod her head as a sign of understanding before he opened the door far enough for her to go inside.
It was a twin room with two single beds, a dresser and a TV. Jolie had been expecting more luxury.
'Is...' She started to speak now that she was in the room. He slammed the door and this time, instead of putting a finger to his lips, he held his hands out in front of himself, palms up. Jolie stopped speaking. She took the black holdall that had been in her possession all the way from San Francisco and offered it to him. He moved his hands to the don't shoot position and took a step backwards so that his body did not come into contact with the bag.
They were standing about six feet apart. Each at the end of a bed. Jolie was starting to feel nervous; he was staring at her as if he was expecting her to make the next move. The bag, the one he'd just refused to even touch, was the whole reason for her being in New York.
Jolie shrugged her shoulders to let him know that she was unsure of what was expected of her.
His breath was coming out of his mouth in short noisy bursts and his chest was rising with every intake of air. He took three lumbering steps and grabbed the notepad from the night-table that was set between the two single beds. Tearing off the top sheet he handed it to Jolie. She took it with suspicion, keeping her eyes on him, trying to read his expression.
The paper was light green and had the emblem of the hotel at the top. There was a message written on the note all in capitals and all evenly spaced. "TAKE DOWN YOUR PANTS AND SHOW ME YOUR ASSHOLE".
Jolie stared at the man who had handed her the note. He was looking back at her with a jaded look in his eyes; he shrugged his shoulders as if wondering what the hold-up was. She closed her fist over the note and threw it on the bed; then gripped the holdall in both hands and thrust it towards the old man. His reaction was the same as before; he took a step back and kept a distance between the black holdall and himself. He pointed a stubby finger at the note then pointed the same finger at Jolie.
'What the fuck!'
As soon as the first word sounded from Jolie's mouth the heavy old man made his way past her, taking care not to touch her, or any of her belongings, and opened the door again. He kept hold of the door and indicated the corridor beyond.
Jolie looked at the black bag that hadn't left her sight for two days. Her part of the deal was to give the bag to some guy in a hotel room in New York. She'd already been paid half her fee. The other half due on delivery. She couldn't very well return to San Fran with a full bag and tell them He wanted to take a look at my ass so I am returning the coke. Oh and by the way can you give me three or four months to pay back the two grand you've already paid me?
The note was in a ball on the bed where she had thrown it. She picked it up and unravelled it. The paper tore slightly where the adhesive strip had stuck to a bit of dry paper. "TAKE DOWN YOUR PANTS AND SHOW ME YOUR ASSHOLE".
As the old man watched her read the note his breathing seemed to even out. He waited for a signal from Jolie, which she gave by nodding her head, before closing the door with a firm click. She had started to unbutton her jeans as he put the chain on the door. By the time he had moved back into the room and taken up his position at the end of the bed Jolie had lowered her zip and had her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. He stood with his arms folded and his meaty head cocked slightly to one side. Behind him the large window revealed a sunny morning above the New York skyline.
Jolie turned her back to him and in one movement pulled her jeans and panties down to her knees. The gusset of her crimson panties stuck for a brief moment between the cheeks of her ass but sprang free as they were pushed to her knees. Her buttocks were firm and high set. She was a thin, lithe-looking girl and even in this stood-up position the bulge of her pussy could be seen from the rear.
Looking back over her shoulder at the fat man it struck her that he didn't seem too interested considering how insistent he was to get her to show him her ass in the first place. He was just holding Jolie's stare. She shrugged her shoulders; what next.
The note was lying on the bed beside Jolie. He moved forward and picked it up, held it in front of her face and ran his finger under the second line of the note. "AND SHOW ME YOUR ASSHOLE".
Jolie swallowed hard and thought of the two grand she had already been paid and the two grand she had coming. As she turned her head away from the old man she caught her reflection in the mirror above the desk on the back wall of the room. She was wearing a short leather jacket and a t-shirt that stopped just below her belly button. The skin of her bare thighs and bottom was pale; her black pubic bush was thick and prominent; visible even from this side-on view.
She lingered over her reflection for a moment before bending at the waist. The jeans around her knees restricted her movement and she was aware of the wording of the note. Jolie reached back with her long arms and grabbed her ass cheeks. She dug her fingers into the firm flesh and pulled her cheeks open. She felt the cold air in her sweaty divide and a pungent, unclean smell filled the air for a moment.
The fat man casually stared at the pale cheeks with their dark divide exposed for him. She was a hairy girl. Black hairs completely covered her pussy and grew up the inside of her cheeks. With the cheeks pulled apart he could see the nest of moist hairs around her anus that, in this position, had been stretched enough so that the pink centre was visible. There was a distinct browning of the skin that formed the outer ring of her anus.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Polaroid camera. He aimed and took a single shot of the young woman exposing her asshole.
She stood up as she heard the click and saw the flash.
'OK you can give me the bag now.' The old man said as he ripped the picture from the camera and started to waft it dry.
'What the fuck was all that about?'
'Don't pull them up.' He said as Jolie reached for her jeans. 'I'm just making sure you're not a cop. Is this your first job?'
'What if it is?' She was facing him now; her thick, black bush was a wide strip of hair that almost reached the bottom of her t-shirt.
'No cop is going to come in here and show me her asshole. And if they do, I've got a picture to prove to any judge that you came in here with the offer of ass to entrap me into buying coke.'
'Well as my asshole proves that I'm not a cop can I get dressed now?'
'Not until we're done.' He reached past her and picked up the holdall. He unzipped it, rummaged inside and brought out three packages wrapped in brown masking tape.
'Do I have to pull my pants down each time I deliver a package to you?'
He looked at her face and then at the expanse of naked flesh between the bottom of her t-shirt and the top of her jeans. 'Not if I'm here. I always remember a face. But if you ever deliver to any of the other guys you'll have to do the same thing.'
'Ah, you girls get used to it. Most times I let a girl in and by the time I've closed the door she's got her ass up and her pooper on display.' Jolie shuddered slightly at his use of the word "pooper".
He took a briefcase from under the desk and sat on the bed as he carefully placed the packages inside. Jolie noticed that the case was full of identical packages.
'Under the pillow.' He said nodding towards the other bed. Jolie had to shuffle sideways between the two beds with her jeans at her knees and lean over to take an envelope from under the pillow. The envelope was unsealed; Jolie pulled back the flap with her thumb and counted twenty one-hundred dollar bills.
While she was standing this close with her pants down the fat man could smell her skin. He inhaled the warm slightly unclean smell.
'We done?' Jolie asked as she finished counting.
'Yep, you can pull 'em up and go.'
Jolie pulled her panties and jeans up, wriggling slightly as they went over her bottom. She zipped the envelope into her jacket pocket, picked up the holdall that now only contained old clothes, and headed for the door.
'Hey kid. You get to keep this.' He stood from the bed and offered her the Polaroid.