Jessica's New Life Ch. 11

This short chapter is much darker than the rest of the story. It developed that way as I was writing it. If issues of drug addiction are difficult for you then you might want to give it a miss. I'll return to my usual tone for Chapter 12 - the finale of this part of the story.

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Romeo the DJ hadn't been wrong - once you navigated the maze of streets you really couldn't miss his address. On one side was a huge block, built fifty years ago to house the community but now decaying and abandoned. Gang tags covered the walls and the boarded-up windows. Jessica navigated around another pot-hole in the road and stopped in front of his house. There was a high wall with a gate and through it she could see an expensive automobile. Around here that wall wouldn't keep the thieves and other predators out. Only one thing could do that - reputation. She checked again - not one tag on that outside wall. Masta Playa was clearly still a man to be reckoned with.

She buzzed the intercom. "You the one Romeo sent," said a voice like dark chocolate, a voice she recognised from that night at Antwan's club, "bring your wheels in or you'll be walking home."

By the time she had parked in the driveway the house's big main door was open. That this place should exist here was ridiculous. She'd seen houses like it back in the old days when she was with her ex-husband but never in any neighborhood remotely like this.

"Sent the help home, baby, so we could talk business." Masta Playa was perhaps 45 but the years lay well on him. They gave him a certain gravitas. She recognised everything in the house was of the finest and so was his wardrobe, from a hand-painted silk tie through his immaculate hand-tailored suit right down to his Italian shoes. Everything around him radiated power and it all fitted the man like a glove.

He'd seen her checking him out. "What did you expect - a hat with a feather in it? Times have moved on. When you running your stable you got to keep up with what's happening. Always another opportunity to take, always another asset to acquire."

She could see how others had felt attraction for him. Men of authority were a weakness for her and despite all she knew about him she couldn't help savouring his confidence and personal magnetism. His features were regular and his smile was charming. Dark chocolate eyes looked out with a twinkle in them and she knew that he liked what he saw too.

"Would you like a drink?"

Her suspicions were immediately aroused - she knew that she had to be careful around a man like this. She'd seen that first look he had given her as she got out of her car. She was used to men looking at her but not like that. He had been like a farmer at a cattle auction appraising potential new livestock. In a half-second he'd checked her face, figure and bearing. She was in no doubt that if you asked him, and he felt inclined to talk, then the Masta Playa could have told you EXACTLY how much money she could make in a year as one of his whores. Then he'd turned on the charm and the velvet-smooth voice but not before she'd seen that first look. Take a drink from the Masta Playa, no way!

"Thank you," she replied, "I'm fine."

He gave her a little knowing smile. Romeo had told him that this one was a corporate lawyer. That suggested she had brains and her not taking a drink proved it. He liked intelligent white women, they were ... a challenge.

He finally held up two hands and chuckled. "Jessica, that is your name? Yes, well, I know you've heard lots about me - I expect 99% of it is true. I was a dangerous man before I retired. But that's a young man's game and I don't need more money than I have." He waved a casual hand around him. "Besides, at my best, I didn't ever need to use mickeys." He chuckled again. "Sit down. You must have something as a guest in my home. Our municipal water system is still just about drinkable - I can at least get you a glass of water from the faucet over there. You can watch me run it if you like."

Jessica momentarily felt silly for her caution. "Yes, thank you," was out of her mouth even before she knew it. Then she remembered who this man was and the fact that, besides Romeo, a self-confessed old associate of the Playa, no-one knew that she was here. She cursed her stupidity - damn right she was going to watch him.

The Masta Playa could feel her eyes boring into him as he carefully washed and wiped a glass before doing the same to the interior of a jug. He filled the jug with water straight from the faucet and then poured a glass for her. She was a careful woman and that just made her even more delicious, even more desirable. He was a connoisseur of the female form, it had been his livelihood, and this one was out of the top drawer but he savoured her more for those keen, intelligent, eyes. Watching him every step of the way.

He handed her the glass and then turned to replace the jug on his French antique side-board. In the small mirror he saw her hold the glass up to the light of a window and inspect it. She was so suspicious and so lovely. He saw her raise the glass and take a cautious sip. He turned and walked to his seat. It was clear that he was ready to talk business. Without a flicker of reaction he saw her take a mouthful of the water and then put the glass down on the table by her chair.

She had done enough. Enough to show that she respected his home, enough not to reject his hospitality.

She had done enough. He'd never used 'mickeys' - knock-out drops - leave that to the young idiots running stables today. His drug was far more subtle and, of course, had been in the spout of the water-jug. He was sure she had drunk enough - he would know in about ten minutes time.

"I hear you are interested in my song? It still sells - but I didn't make it for the money. I did it just to show that in my spare time I could produce better than all those so-called gangstas. The song speak to you?"

"Yes," said Jessica and picked her words carefully, "I thought it was amazing. I saw what it did to a crowd and some of my friends."

"At Antwan's place in the city?"

"Yes."

The Playa smiled a slow smile. "Always liked the fact Romeo uses my song like that. Makes it worthwhile. What you need from me?"

"Its the music really, I have some different lyrics." She handed him a sheet of paper from her briefcase.

He scanned them and an eye-brow slowly raised. "The music was my speciality, lyrics not so much. Couldn't claim to be the best at them but I got my message across, told it how it is. These, pardon me saying so, ain't much as lyrics but they do send a message and I like them."

She couldn't help but smile back, "I hope so - that's why I need your song so badly. They will all know it and that background will put my presentation over the edge."

"Tell me exactly how you plan to use my little tune - it is my creation after all."

He'd hit the right note. She'd clearly been planning her little act for weeks. She steadily grew more animated and excited as she described her plans and the reactions she hoped to get. Her eyes shone and sparkled with humour and daring, her pale skin glowed with vitality. She was so lovely. At his suggestion she demonstrated a few moves that she had choreographed and he expressed his appreciation. The displays slowly seemed to accelerate and be delivered with more and more enthusiasm. The Playa relaxed and listened as he noticed the drug taking effect on the woman.

Jessica was really enjoying herself. She was pleased that she had decided to do this. Masta Playa was genuinely interested in her ideas and it was undeniable that he was attractive to her. Not just his looks, his whole personality was just what she liked. Authoritative, powerful, full of alternate gravitas and a wicked humour. He was so sexy!

Masta Playa told her how impressed he was by her ideas. He was sure that, with his song, her audience would be impressed too. He said how good it was to meet a woman who knew her own mind and her desires and was ready to go out there and take what she wanted. Even coming to see him had been a sign of her courage and dedication. He moved his chair next to Jessica's so that they could talk more freely and with less formality.

Jessica was so happy. She had discovered who she was and what she wanted from her life. He was right to say how brave and switched-on she had been. She HAD been brave, she HAD been decisive. Strange that other people had trouble recognising that but this wonderful man had spotted it right away. She liked the fact that he had come close to her. She felt a powerful connection with him - he had to be the most impressive man she had ever met. It must have been fate that brought her here - to meet such a handsome and perceptive man.

Masta Playa judged that it was time - his 'medicine' had taken enough effect for the next stage. "So we get to the important part of today's meeting. You want something that is mine to give. You came all this way to the worst part of H-Town to get it and that tells me that you want it bad. Well, OK, you can use my song..." He saw the elation on her face and raised a finger, "...if you are willing to pay the price, of course."

There was that controlled little smile again - as if he knew everything that ever had happened and everything that ever would happen. The smile of a man in total control - God she loved that smile of his. Jessica knew that he wanted her - she'd seen that look so often before. Well, if he wanted her in exchange for his song then that promised to be VERY good for her. Hell, she'd fuck him whether he gave her the song or not. "I'm down for some fun..."

He shook his head, still smiling. "Not that. I want something that you DON'T want to give me. I want you to do something for me, something that you would never otherwise do. If you want something from me then that's what I want from you."

She was watching him again but out of confusion rather than suspicion. She so badly wanted to understand, to learn from this great man.

"You're a modern woman - you know that some rules are made to protect us and some rules are made to control us. You smoked weed?"

She nodded.

"You should have gone crazy then, if you listen to them. What about coke?"

"Once or twice."

"A good experience?"

"Well, yes."

He spread his hands, "There you go. According to them you should be hooked and/or dead. Not that it's complete bullshit. Coke can be a bad, bad, drug. Lost friends to that drug. But if you use it right it's a tool. Use it wrong and you pay."

He was focusing all his charisma on her now - ready for his next question. "Used heroin?"

"Fuck no," said Jessica.

"But why not - I have, back when I was going to be a musician. No big deal - didn't help me so I didn't do it again. Real simple. No harm, no foul. Why is it different for you? Because you set yourself limits, based on what they've always told you. My song is precious to me because I lived my song. Now you want a part of my song so it's only fair that you live part of my song."

Jessica had a nagging feeling that there was something wrong in his logic. But one look at those beautiful eyes and that engaging smile convinced her that he was truly educating her - he knew so much more about such things than she did.

Masta Playa moved over to his huge office desk and opened a draw. He dipped in a hand and took out a wrap of paper. Then he produced a small glass pipe.

That was a little too much even for the drug-affected brain of Jessica. She was no expert on such things but you didn't need to be to know that slamming needles and those little pipes were things to avoid. She shook her head anxiously, her face was a picture of confused distress.

Playa fixed her with his eyes. "I want you to experience this. Some men crave sex, some men crave power. I crave the moment a beautiful white woman trusts me enough to put her mouth to the pipe and draw in the smoke."

"What if I don't do it?" asked Jessica.

"Then you don't get the song. That's my price. It's not so high a price. Just breaking down another of those pointless barriers that penned your life into normality and respectability. How many other barriers have you surmounted in the last year or two? So many and yet you'd let this little one beat you?"

"But it's crack," she said in a small frightened voice.

Masta Playa was offended. ""I'd never give you crack and this isn't meth either. Its a synthetic we devised a while back. Good little party drug and you haven't really made love until you've done it on this. That's why I want you to try it, sweet thing, so when we fuck it'll be real good for you."

She was looking at him, her pupils large in her eyes. She just needed that little suggestion to bring her over.

"Does my baby girl think her Black daddy would want to hurt her?" His voice crooned reassurance.

She shook her head.

He slapped his knee, "Cum sit here with daddy so he can help you do this."

The 29-year-old corporate lawyer walked across and perched her butt on the older man's knee. She watched as he spilled the contents of the wrap of paper into the bowl of the pipe. Then he held the mouth-piece just in front of her face and she heard his lighter, almost a small blow-torch, spark. The crystals in the pipe fizzed, melted and began to turn to vapour. She looked at him and he smiled and nodded. Jessica leaned forward, put her lips to the pipe and gently inhaled.

She felt nothing except a pressure where she was sat in his lap. Her brain sub-consciously recorded the fact that Masta Playa was getting hard just as she took her first tentative hit. The flame came out again. "You can do better than that," he purred, "take a nice deep hit. Then you can learn all about my song."

She took a much deeper draw on the pipe and then continued to do so until the last of the crystals were gone.

She felt good - she'd been feeling good since she'd arrived really. Now though, slowly, she felt better than good. She felt she could dance for hours or run across America or swim the Pacific Ocean. She didn't want to do any of those things though, she wanted to fuck and she wanted to fuck a LOT.

Masta Playa eased her off his knee and stood to pull down his expensively-tailored pants. "Baby knows what daddy wants," was all he said. Jessica was straight down on her knees and pulling his cock out of his silk underpants. It was all she had hoped for. A strong Black nine inches. She began a vigorous blow-job, constantly switching techniques and targets in her search for a way to please him. She lavished all she had learned from her many lovers onto this man, the man she most wanted to please in all the world.

He tugged her hair and then presented his balls. She licked them like the most delicious candy and then gently played with them as if they were the most exquisite jewels she had ever seen.

Masta lay back on his chair and then shifted forward to hold his legs up. "Now, be a good baby girl and clean Daddy's Black ass."

It was something Jessica had never done before but then wasn't doing things she hadn't done before the whole idea. She tentatively stuck the tip of her pink tongue onto his ass-hole. There was a little nutty taste and a slight smell but she still warmed to her task. She buried her tongue into him as far as it would go and enjoyed his moans of appreciation. She was pleasing him and it made her pussy wet to please her new Black daddy.

For about five minutes a single Black ass-hole essentially comprised Jessica's universe. Just as she was beginning to forget that she had ever not been rimming him the Masta Player finally decided he was satisfied. She wanted to kiss him straight afterwards - he avoided that and mentally cursed the fact that white girls always seemed to want to do it.

"Time you danced for daddy and got out of those clothes." The suggestion seemed the most natural thing to Jessica. As he sat and slowly stroked his hard cock she vigorously danced in front of him - she gloried in her own physicality and revelled in slowly revealing her whole naked form to him. She knew he was enjoying it - his dark eyes remained fixed on her.

As she finally lost the last of her clothing and stood naked in front of him the Playa made a simple gesture. She moved forward and straddled his seated form. Her hand found his hard shaft and inserted it into her wet pussy. She was more than ready for him, her excitement had been building since she'd drunk that water. Now she was desperate to fuck - desperate to get herself off on his hard meat.

Playa exulted as he saw her almost exhaust herself in her frantic desire for him. Her eyes were shining, her long hair plastered to her by the sweat running down her face and body. Little grunts signified the physical efforts she was making and when he finally began to thrust up into her she gave a groan of pleasure. On his special 'medicine' these snow bunnies could fuck all day and the more they fucked the more they came. He casually reached up and grasped Jessica's breast. His fingers found her nipple and twisted the ring there savagely. Jessica gasped in pain and then her whole body shuddered in climax.

He enjoyed the sensation and visuals of the woman fucking him but it wasn't enough for him. He'd expected more of a contest - more resistance. In the end she was just another little slut in way over her depth. He crooked a finger into the top of her pussy, feeling himself slide in and out. He moved his finger slightly and the woman shrieked - her eyes rolling back into her head for a moment. Then he grabbed her hips and pounded up into her hard until he came. The woman's wail of joy at feeling his seed passed him by. He could play this one like all the others - her body, her mind - she'd been no challenge at all. He stood upright and almost threw the tired girl on the floor. In a couple of seconds she was back on her knees and eagerly cleaning their juices off his cock with her tongue.

Playa glanced at the clock. Maybe ten minutes till she came down. "Get your clothes, baby," he ordered, "daddy's gonna take you for a ride."

The redhead giggled and rushed into her clothes but once they were in the car she started to quieten down. By the time they were on the streets she was looking out with a troubled expression. Playa carefully drove her through the two main drags for street walkers in H-Town. He saw her taking in the few young attractive faces and the many many more ruined by life on the streets. He saw Beretta, the pimp round here, beating a young Latina girl with an old metal coat hanger. He scowled - young men had no class.

"Used to have a hundred girls on the street round here - all white girls so they had extra value for my clientele. They turned over fast but I never had a shortage - my methods of recruitment are very effective, as you know."

He looked at the woman - was she called Jessica, he couldn't quite remember. She was staring out at the wrecks of humanity with a dull gaze. The come-down had hit her just as he knew it would. She was taking it all in but she couldn't really respond rationally.

He drove on to the hospital. "This is where my mammy died. Needed a transfusion but there wasn't no doctor available to see her in time. There'd been cutbacks to the program - just here, not up in the North side. The hospital there stayed fully-staffed, clean and efficient. Strange that. People were dying here, my mammy died here, and no-one gave a shit."

His next stop was a school - quiet now. "Built for about 2000 kids - there are 6000 packed in here now. How many of them won't make it to your age, how many won't make it to 30? Die from drugs, die from gang violence, die at their own young hands. How many - too many! You know where the white politicians are - while these Black children are dying. They're a fucking bus ride away - YOU lived a fucking bus ride away. But white people don't care cause white people don't have no souls."