Challenge 04 - Monica at Carnival

Heather thought of how often her mind had turned to such matters recently. It seemed more than a coincidence that she had ended up here, talking to this fussy little man. She hesitated for a split-second and then she took the plunge. "I had been considering something and I would value your advice."

Doctor Nikola did not seem surprised. "My expert opinion is at your service. You desire a consultation? We have some time as I was hoping you would allow me to give you a tour of our facilities here."

Now Heather Cameron knew for sure that Nikola had known who she was from the very beginning. A young woman who did not yet have access to the Cameron fortune but who very soon would have at least a tidy share of it. One part of his job was selling his clinic to potential donors. That was how the world worked. One thing was certain, however, Doctor Nikola would ensure that she was very well looked after.

***

The sea-breeze was most definitely welcome. The islands at the start of August could get very hot - even if they escaped some of the humid heat of back home. The parts of the island geared up for tourists were pleasantly air-conditioned but outside it got warm very fast.

Harley had met her at Philadelphia International Airport. She had been relieved that he, like George, knew her 'official' identity. Just as she had checked him out when they had first come into contact she had to assume that he had returned the complement. It meant that she could show her passport and do all the necessary travel arrangements without worry. Harley, at the very least, knew her real name even if her family's habitual privacy had limited what else he could find - on the internet at least.

It had been several months since she had met Harley in person - as opposed to over a video-link. She couldn't help smiling as his deep brown eyes had seemed to drink in the very sight of her. "Damn girl but you just look better and better. I'm liking the way you've growed your hair out. Suits you real fine."

She knew she was blushing a little - but she was still very pleased. Did Harley remember telling her that he liked redheads to wear their hair long, shoulder-length at least. Before then Heather had always kept it rather shorter but his comment had struck a note with her. She was pleased that he had noticed and approved.

"Get your check-up like I suggested?"

She confirmed the fact.

"Nikola looks after us all. TKB Network performers and members alike. A clean test buys you 45 days participation in the Challenge. Miss a test or have an issue and you get benched until you do test clean. Same rules for active members. Those are the rules in place for everyone's benefit. I don't repeat them but I do enforce them. That clear?"

She nodded and then said, "Yes."

"Its a bind but it is necessary. Now its out of the way we can plan our little trip."

It was a sort of rite-of-passage. Harley selected who was going on the Challenge. Harley invited such prospects to join him on a trip. This time of year that meant Barbados. At other times it might be Florida, Jamaica, Rio, New Orleans, Trinidad or Vegas. Mostly timed for the festival season in each location. It was a sort of audition before a performer was fully admitted onto the Challenge.

Heather was not naive. She understood what this sort of audition probably involved. The casting couch of the 'Golden Age' of Hollywood had never exactly been a secret. Nor were these trips. She had seen the reaction of the members on Discord when they'd heard she would be missing a few shows while she was in Barbados. Two and two had certainly made four in record time.

"Damn - Harley getting to bang that fine little bitch!"

"Top work Harley - bring her back soon for the rest of us to get a taste."

"Challenge accepted? We'll soon find out."

"Little Monica been teasing long enough. Time she Blacked for sure."

Heather/Monica was pretty sure she hadn't been teasing anyone. All those Members had got to see her on cam, got to see her naked, got to see her sucking Black cock or fucking herself with a big Black dildo. Seemed to her that she had given all of them a damn sight more that any of them could expect. Maybe that was just the nature of men!

Just at the moment, however, she was only really interested in the opinions of one man. Since that trip to H-Town with Harley and his girl she had kept imagining herself back in that moment. In the back room of the club that Harley had taken them too. The moment when she had been about to get involved but Harley had, very calmly but clearly, made sure that she did not. At first she had been relieved that he had stepped in - relieved that she had not been left to make a fool of herself. That relief had faded pretty fast, had positively vanished over the succeeding months. Now she thought about what might have happened in that back room rather too often. Those thoughts had also ventured into her imagination, into her dreams.

She didn't believe in regrets but she did wonder about that night. About what Harley had done. Their second meeting had been much less dramatic, a meal and a conversation. However, Harley hadn't bothered to hide his appreciation of her, his approval of the results of her work-out regime. If Harley had held her back that time then it wasn't from lack of desire for her. No - his eyes on her now were confirming that fact. She felt the warm exhilaration, the subtle tension mixed with a strange joyous freedom that came with the knowledge that she was wanted, wanted by a man that she found very attractive.

She had not hesitated when he had asked her to join him on his trip. Didn't that tell her - and him - all they needed to know?

It seemed so. Harley had simply asked her one question when they had met at the airport back in the States.

"Looking forward to showing you the island. Its a good time at Kadooment and there ain't no strings. That passport says Heather on it and that's who I'm taking. You get me?"

She understood alright. Heather was the blue-blood trust-fund research student collecting information and sources, Harley wasn't going to press her into anything she didn't want to do. There was just one thing. Harley's eyes, the way he looked at her, told her just what he wanted.

"I think I'd like this to be Monica's kind of trip." She felt a little shock of nervousness as she said it. She couldn't have read him wrong could she?

His smile reassured her. "That's good. I got some ideas and some people you should meet. Soon as we land we'll get started - no time to waste."

***

"This the one you been telling me about," said the woman. She was in her mid-fifties, a little overweight, a sheen of perspiration on the dark skin of her face. "You dance girl?" That was aimed at her.

"Not even going to say hello Marva," laughed Harley.

"Two full days to Kadooment. You think we got time to spare?" The woman spoke to Harley as to a particularly dense seven-year-old. She waved a hand at the hive of activity in the big shed. Harley just laughed again and raised his eyebrows to Monica.

"I can dance a little," she said.

"Do me some samba and some soca," said the woman.

"I don't know soca," admitted Monica, "but I can do a little samba." She put down her bag and thanked the stars that she was wearing relatively modest heels. She performed a few samba steps, moving her feet fast but with precision. She swung her hips and clicked her fingers.

The woman nodded and then called over her shoulder. "Angela, girl, get over here and show this one the basic soca - Staging Post One routine."

A younger Black woman came over and flashed a smile at Monica and Harley. She was athletic and well-proportioned. Her every movement exuded confidence in her abilities and in her appearance. She clapped her hands together three times and then began to dance. The steps were not complicated. The young woman swayed her hips and raised her hands. Moved to the left and then to the right, exaggerating the movement of her hips. She shook the upper half of her body and then leaned forward, thrusting out her buttocks behind her. Then she leapt forwards and came back upright before raising an arm to one side and then the other to the other. Finally she gave some more exaggerated movements of her hips and buttocks before she concluded by standing up straight.

"Alright!" said Harley and clapped his hands in appreciation.

"Need to see it again?" Marva asked Monica.

"I'll try it," Monica responded. Learning simple dance steps from one viewing was not a new skill for her. She carefully and accurately reproduced the steps and movements that Angela had shown them

"You'll do," said Marva, "but you gotta dwell in it not just perform it. The music and crowd will help. Join the practice this afternoon and you'll get it. Just know we don't take everyone in our tent. Lots of tourists at Kadooment but not in the Ugly Man's tent."

Monica didn't understand most of it but guessed that the meaning would become clear as she went along.

Marva waved at another woman and then pointed at Monica. Within a few seconds a tape measure was being expertly applied and Monica was being carefully measured.

"Little adjustment is all we need, just as well this late." The new woman grumbled.

"I know you make it perfect, " soothed Marva, "fit her up now?"

"Ok - you be coming my way," said the new woman as she set off back to her part of the shed. Monica followed.

***

As she stepped out from the screen she was well aware that a small group of men had gathered where Marva and Harley stood. All eyes were very much on her.

It would have been odd if they had not been. Her costume was certainly designed to attract attention. Three huge neon pink feathers rose from the back of her sequined headband. A tiny triangle of similarly sequined material played the part of a bikini bottom which faded to a thong in the rear leaving her butt cheeks exposed (but at least cool). Her top was a tiny strip of the same sequined material that curved up in a thin floral pattern to cover her nipples but certainly very little else. A serious of shiny metallic strips formed a collar skirting the base of her neck and reaching out under her arms. This was the base for more large blue feathers that sprouted out above her shoulders like wings.

It certainly succeeded in attracting the men's attention. There were smiles and calls of appreciation until a stern glance from Marva shut them up.

"You not just gonna be standing in that - you gotta dance. Show me the Staging Post One."

Monica knew that she was being tested. She needed to remember the steps and be happy to perform in front of a crowd of hungry eyes. Marva and Harley were watching her every move, her every reaction. Heather Cameron. the trust fund girl, might have curled up in a ball of embarrassment. Fortunately, Heather was not here and Monica took it perfectly in her stride. She put herself into the steps this time, letting them flow through her. She made just the one minor adjustment - ensuring that when she stuck out her rear and gave it a little twerk action the guys would get the full benefit. Little shouts of appreciation suggested she had judged the mood correctly.

"Better - much better." Even Marva seemed pleased. "Leave her with us Harley - she got steps to learn. The rest of you," she told the other men, "you get back to work. Acting like you ain't seen no pretty girl before. I don't know what to do with ya!"

***

The old stonework was weathered and worn from resisting the elements for three hundred years. Old brass cannon pointed out of embrasures as if still seeking an enemy that would never now come.

"Love this place," said Harley, "coming back to the island always seems like coming home. Even though it was my Grandpa that left here for the States when the last traces of the sugar boom ended. Kinda strange that." He pondered a moment and laid a hand on the masonry of the old fort. "They didn't just build this for defence. It was also a holding pen for run-away merchandise."

'Run-away merchandise.' The phrase struck Heather's mind. What sort of merchandise ran away? Livestock? Then she understood and looked back at Harley.

He gave a slow smile as he recognised that she understood him. "Yeah. I should hate this place, these stones, maybe. But life is never so simple as that. Grandpa loved to talk about this place - the fort and the island I mean. Loads of stories about growing up here, lots of joy. I know there are other, older, stories but when I come here I'm living Grandpa's dream of coming back."

"He always wanted to come back?"

"Not at first. They made a good life in the States in a good neighborhood, a community you know. They were happy but, this is all before I was born, some rich guy stuck a freeway clear through their district and they all got shifted to the projects. 'Relocation' they called it but from that moment Grandpa was never the same. He didn't trust anything he built would last, he was way more interested in his past than his future."

Heather's own grand-father had, of course, had a rather different experience. Once the mills were closing down he had massively entrenched the family fortune by his genius for real estate and development. Especially those 'connections' that had allowed him to buy up land and direct freeways where they would most be to his future advantage. Whatever, and whoever, had to make room for them. He had been very active in the city that had now become known as H-Town for instance.

She thought about it and knew what she had to do. "Harley..."

He gave a low laugh that cut her off. "You going to tell me about your Grandpa? No need. I guessed there weren't too many Camerons up there. Does it matter anyway? So my Grandpa would have given yours a crack on the jaw and yours would have put mine in jail. So what. No need to be holding grudges - got much more pleasant things to hold." His arm came round her back and Heather felt his hand on her butt.

"How'd your folks feel about you being here with a man like me?"

A man with some shady connections? A man rather older than her? She knew that was not what he meant. An African-American man, a Black man. That was the point. "If my parents noticed then they wouldn't mind - they just want me to be safe and happy I think."

Harley raised a sceptical eyebrow. "What about your Grandpa - what would he have thought to it?"

"Oh," confirmed Heather, "he would have really hated it."

The smile was back on Harley's face now. "Good," was all he said as his strong Back fingers squeezed her butt cheek.

***

She was not accustomed to rum punch. However, she was well aware that it was potentially deceptive. She had suspected it even before Harley had said the single word, "Slowly," to her. She had taken his advice but even so the rum had relaxed her beautifully, easing the fatigue of all of that dancing practice.

They were sitting in a small bar, off the waterside, festooned in flags and gaudy advertisements. There were a few tourists but mostly this was a place for the locals. Locals who almost all seemed to know Harley.

There were far more showy places down on the beach side, places that catered solely to the tourists. However, she was glad that they had come here. This was much more the real island, the locals talking fast and laughing among themselves. She had been accepted - because she was Harley's woman. The latest, she knew, in a long succession of Harley's women who had come to the island, to this very bar probably. It was the natural way of the world. Harley would come a couple of times a year, each time with a different young white woman, would take a drink or two and then head back to the hotel. It didn't take a mind-reader to know what happened back at the hotel. They all knew - just took it for granted. She and Harley would fuck.

For a moment Monica was Heather Cameron again. They all knew, or thought they knew, that Harley was fucking her. That didn't bother her. What bothered her was the knowledge that it was going to happen. She had been imagining it for so long and what would happen if it was ... just OK. If the pathetic fumblings with her previous couple of boyfriends really were all that there was to it. She reached sharply for her drink.

"Slowly," murmured Harley again. She understood. He didn't want her, didn't need her, to get drunk. He knew tonight was going to be special and he didn't want alcohol to blur the experience for her. A man had to be awfully confident or awfully full of crap to think that way. Possibly both? She looked into his face and felt reassured. She had never met a man quite like Harley - except perhaps that club owner back in H-Town. They both had a certain aura around them.

Even here in this place that looked more like a tumbledown wooden shack than an entertainment venue. The locals all knew him, all wanted to swap news with him. He seemed the center of the room. He bought some drinks but it wasn't just that. There was something about him. She wanted to know more and she knew that tonight she could find out more. Harley had 'his usual rooms' - as the hotel porter had said with a knowing smile. A room each - but with a connecting door.

That said everything about Harley. He didn't need to pressure anyone, let alone trick or force them. A key part of this for him was his partner choosing to open that door, choosing to give herself to him. She had years of study in the field but she didn't think that she needed them to understand this. It was like the Challenge. You gave your consent by your actions. You accepted the new experience that lay beyond the door by opening that door. Monica wondered for a moment if anyone had ever decided not to open the door. It had to have happened - didn't it? Perhaps Harley always knew, when he invited a girl to join him on one of his trips, that they would be certain to open the door, to take the opportunity to join him in his bed. Was he always right? Looking at him Monica couldn't be sure about that. However, she was sure that Harley was right tonight.

Soon they were headed back out into the still warm night air, the shouts of the bar receding in the darkness. She felt that air on her skin. She was wearing her bikini top and a mid-length light skirt. There were plenty of people on the streets.

"Hey girl - wanna drink." A glass of something colourful and no doubt potent was thrust towards her. He was obviously drunk, swaying on his feet a little. The tip of his tongue was visible between his lips and he was smiling but his eyes were fixed on her. Intent, hungry, desiring eyes. Deep brown in the night.

His friend tried to pull him back. "Come on man, sit down, can't you see she way outa ya league man. Sides she got a man - you wanna start a fight or something."

The man swayed again and his gaze shifted and then managed to focus on Harley. Then he shook his head. "Oh f-, I mean sorry man. I no see you there." He let his friend take him away.

She felt Harley's arm around her waist. "As well I'm here or you'd be getting into all sorts of mischief. Beautiful girl like you draws lots of attention." He chuckled and she relished both the words of compliment and the strong, protecting, arm around her.

"I won't be getting into mischief tonight then?"

His chuckle ripened into a real laugh. They both knew the answer to that question.

There were some tourists up ahead, nearer her age than his. They had clearly been in the bars too. A couple of he boys looked at her and at Harley. One of the girls was laughing and pulled down her top to show her breast. That got the boys attention back on her.

"Huh," said Harley with disapproval. "best they don't carry on like that."

It was strange to hear Harley, of all people, being puritanical. However, he had already told her that this island had its own rules. This was not Rio or the back-streets of Kingston. Public nudity was not allowed and the same went for weed. Even 'cursing' was strongly disapproved of in the street. Harley was defensive about the island, about keeping it how the locals wanted it to be.