Paying The Rent Ch. 02

Life Is Good

Lavon Crawston closed down his tablet and placed it onto his table. Then he moved across to his sofa and let himself almost fall into its padded comfort. It felt real good.

He was in an exceptionally good mood. His system was putting out some fine old-school funk. Just the sort he'd grown up on and definitely the groove that he really went for. This new urban stuff was fine but it just wasn't his preference. He heard enough of it down the club, heavy bass rhythm and rap vocals. He had no problem with it but some variety would be good. One day he'd asked the guy who owned the place about it. Man by the name of Antwan - down there on one of his regular visits to see his high standards were being maintained.

Lavon figured he was a good judge of people. He had a strong feeling that Antwan was on his side of this particular musical divide. He was a few years younger than Lavon but the man was smooth. Had to be to have the premium lawyer pussy he had back home. Let alone to be right-hand man to Mr Taylor. Because if Lavon reckoned he was a good judge of folks then he was for damned sure that Mr Taylor was.

So he'd asked Antwan and the man had just smiled at him.

"You can work it out my man."

Lavon guessed it had been obvious. "The young guys all wanting it?"

Antwan just shook his head and Lavon realised his mistake.

"The ladies wanting it?" The club's female clientele tilted real white and not a bit suburban. Not really the gangsta demographic but in that split-second he understood.

The woman and girls didn't come down there for what they could get at home. Back in the neatly-manicured suburbs or the small towns they'd left to come to the big city. They came for what they needed real bad but couldn't get at home. They loved that contrast. The music was part of it. Told them they were in another world - a world where they could express themselves to the full. Where they could be who they really were. In many cases, at least at first, that meant they wanted it as 'street' as street could be. They wanted the music, the fashion, the ghetto phrases and attitudes. Because if you were a white woman at one of Antwan's clubs then you weren't no tourist. You were there to be desired, to be pursued, to be claimed by a Black man.

Those were the women that came to a club like Antwan's. Most of them had white boys back home, husbands or boyfriends. But those white boys weren't up to the job of satisfying their women. They put a ring on it and then thought their job was done. They lapsed into routine, into boring normality, into seeing their lover as some kind of personal servant for the cooking and cleaning.

That was no way to treat a fine piece. A man needed to make sure she knew how sexy she was, how much he wanted her. She had to know that her man wanted her for who she was - a unique, beautiful, desirable woman. She knew that and she wasn't going to be straying but them white boys just couldn't seem to catch on to that. Which suited him and Antwan just fine. Because some of them fine pieces who weren't getting their due at home would find their way to the perfect place for getting just the attention they was wanting.

So if the girls wanted their music as 'urban' and as 'ghetto' as possible then that was just fine. All part of the process. Give the girls what they wanted and soon enough they'd be reciprocating. Everyone was a winner.

Tonight he wasn't at the club so he could let his preferred sound fill his apartment. He didn't need to be setting no mood tonight. Tonight's visitor knew just exactly what she was coming for. It was every two weeks but it wasn't routine. There was always a clock on his girls - soon they'd be leaving the college to make their way in the world. Meant a man didn't take them for granted, it meant he made sure to give them all his attention every minute that he had them.

It was moving on towards the end of the school year now. Another turn-round of tenants. How many more times would he see tonight's visitor? After tonight maybe two. He felt a familiar twinge of regret but just that little stronger than he had in previous years. This year had been a fine crop. The only pity was that sweet blonde dime Rachel had only come with a few weeks to go. Had she been with him from the start of the year he knew that she'd have been coming down and knocking on his door. He 'd seen it in her eyes sometimes when he talked with her, heard it in her voice, known what was in her soul.

You couldn't get a more blue-blood looking girl than Rachel but old Lavon was a man of discernment and experience. He knew how Rachel looked at him sometimes when she didn't think he was watching. He also knew she'd been asking some of his other girls about him. He knew the signs.

Lavon felt the stir in his pants. Damn but that girl was fine. If he'd had another couple of months, maybe just one, she'd have been down here for sure. Knocking on his door and then finding out just what was tenting his shorts. Turn that girl's world upside down because once she'd tasted the forbidden fruit then there was no way she'd ever go back to white-bread. Lavon knew that without question. That sweet blonde piece could be the poster girl for, 'Once they go Black they never go back.'

Still there it was. Man couldn't have everything. If he caught every fish there'd be no fun in the sport. He could not complain about this year. This year had been one to remember.

Lavon again had a thought that had come into his mind a few times recently. It was in the nature of things that his tenants were anywhere from twenty to twenty-three years old. He wasn't anywhere near seeing forty again. There'd come a time when he should hand over the reins - pass on the responsibility.

It happened that he knew just how he could do that. His old service buddy had kept telling him to come down to the Caribbean where he'd been developing a resort catering to adventurous young professionals. Spend the winters down there and from what CeeJay said the white tail came a-flocking and all a man had to do was pick and choose. Fresh prime pussy every week. Completing that Caribbean holiday experience for CeeJay's visitors.

It was mighty enticing. Especially round about November when the wind began blowing cold and when the first snows were falling. However, it wouldn't mesh with his landlord duties here. Every year he let loose into the world maybe five or ten fine white girls who'd come to understand that true sexual satisfaction came in only one color, just like that old bastard Henry Ford's Model T. He liked to think of all the young brothas out there who got to enjoy the graduates of his little finishing school. It was a responsibility, an important job that needed to be done.

So that'd been a problem without a solution until his sister Marcy had come to him about the boy. Well, hardly a boy anymore. Hard to think of his nephew's friend as a big strong twenty-five year old man. He still remembered DeShawn in short pants!

He'd always been a good kid until he got himself in with the wrong crowd. Nothing too serious but he'd still been lucky not to earn himself a worse record and a longer spell away. First offense and a plea deal got it down to a misdemeanour but it could easily have been worse. While he was away his mom, Marcy and Lavon had got together to discuss him. The Taylor Foundation had found him a place at technical school, learning building maintenance. The course had been Lavon's suggestion - just like the fact he'd found him a job at a bar run by another friend of his, Theo. A bit of bar work, a bit of security, a bit of helping out the caretaker there on maintenance.

Credit to the boy he'd seen sense and got his head down. Learned his lessons, formal and informal. His daddy had been in the wind before he could talk so he'd needed a good role-model and Theo had been the perfect choice. He was a man like Antwan. Smooth exterior hiding steel underneath. It'd rubbed some of the rough edges off the boy - some of the posing he'd learned on the corners. Given the nature of the bar it'd also opened DeShawn's eyes to the world that his uncle, Theo and Antwan operated in. According to Theo he'd took to it like a duck to water - made himself real popular with the girls there. Lavon smiled just thinking about it. Those girls would have taught DeShawn plenty about what a woman needs and how to provide it. Same as he and CeeJay had learned from them sweet pieces in Estonia. In the end pleasing a woman just came natural, you could instinctively know real soon just what they were needing. The benefits of experience they called it.

There was a little of his mom in DeShawn but mostly he looked like his maternal grand-father. He also bore a certain resemblance to a younger Lavon. Other folks saw it more than Lavon himself did but he had to admit there was something there. Anyway every time he met DeShawn he was more and more convinced that one day, when the time came, he'd be the man to take over. There was just one doubt in his mind. Something a little difficult to settle but which had to be known for sure before any change was made. He had responsibilities after all.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Lavon's mind was brought back to the here and now by the knocking on his door. He glanced up at his clock and saw that she was right on time. Damn but he'd been day-dreaming for twenty minutes!

He opened the door and there she was, that mischievous little grin on her face. As soon as he was there she adopted a more serious expression but her eyes were still full of joy and excitement.

"I've come to pay the rent Lavon."

Oh fuck. Try as he might old Lavon could never quite decide who he liked best. The redhead Bethany was amazing, Sarah had really come into her own once she'd dumped that white wankster of hers, Lisa had a fucking amazing body and Corinne, well she'd been just like his private dancer. A naked lap dance from her was something else! Then there was Rachel, ah Rachel...

But could he say that he preferred any of them to Britney? Fuck - all he knew was that just stood there she could set his blood pumping. She was only 5'3 but a little fucking dynamo. Brunettes weren't usually his preference but damn it just looked so right on her and her eyes were an amazing deep brown. Expressive and joyous and made a man feel real good to look into them. She wasn't no slim piece like Bethany or Rachel. The girl was kinda chunky but man those curves were something else. It all made for a body to catch the attention of any man with a pulse and discernment. Something around 34DD up top, all natural and all fucking perfection. But the real prize was that whooty. He'd seen a lot of girls who claimed one but none fitted the bill like young Britney. When she turned she fair took a man's breath away. Any brotha see that and not get hard then he should just put his cue in the rack and retire. Talking of which...

Britney

He took the envelope from Britney and made certain not to smile. She always pronounced her 'the' like it was a 'ze'. Needed something like that to remind you that she wasn't an American, that she'd presumably be heading back to Austria once her course was done. The thought reminded him to savour every moment with her, to extract ever ounce of mutual pleasure from their meetings. Lavon didn't take honeys like this for granted, he NEVER took any of his girls for granted. They all deserved his best, every time and any time. He wasn't no fool like them white-boys whose wives and girl-friends were down at Antwan's or working for Theo.

Lavon opened the envelope and counted the bills. He frowned. Then he carefully counted each bill out as a pile of currency on his table.

He almost growled and fixed his eyes on Britney who was looking adorably penitent and guilty.

"Envelope's light again - ten bucks short."

"I know Lavon I'm sorry Lavon but..."

Her voice died as he held his hand up. "Don't be calling me Lavon and bringing me a light envelope again. Now you be calling me 'Mr Crawston' or 'Sir' you hear."

She dropped those big wonderfully expressive brown eyes down to the floor, seemingly unable to hold his relentless stern gaze.

"I'm sorry Lav... er, sir. But since it was OK two weeks ago."

"What did I say two weeks ago? I said it could slide but you turn up short again and I'd expect you to come ready to pay your debts. That right?"

"Yes sir - it was very good of you sir. But I haven't ever..."

"That don't matter to me none. You ten bucks short and that means I gets to take it out in trade. And I said what I'd be asking didn't I - so you come prepared?" His look and tone were intense, formidable. Lavon was a big powerfully-built man and he towered above her as he moved to close the door behind her.

She nodded.

"Show me."

Britney obediently bent forward and flipped up her knee-length skirt.

Lavon gave a little growl, but a growl of pleasure rather than of anger. It wasn't just that amazing booty or the fact that, like a good girl, she wasn't wearing anything under that skirt. No - it was the fact she'd followed her instructions. Between her cheeks a metal object glinted in the light. He knew what it was. A metal butt-plug with an enamelled end that displayed the 'Queen of Spades' symbol. He'd seen a girl wearing one once and damn but it sent a message.

So he'd got a store to take a few in stock. It was run by a friend of his and only a few blocks away but that was enough to put it in H-Town proper, outside the little circle of gentrification surrounding the college. Nothing too heavy but just enough to add a little spice. On occassions like this he'd send his girl down there to buy one of the QOS plugs. Which was as good as her telling the world that she was giving it up to the Black man. He'd wondered if it would be a deterrent but truth be told the little bitches loved it. Besides Marcia and her girls would pass on some good advice and sell them some lube and such. If he knew Britney she'd have been preparing for tonight - making sure she wouldn't disappoint.

Lavon ran his tongue over his lips. There wasn't no danger of this fine little piece disappointing him. He eased forward and took a hold of her with one hand while the other caressed her firm magnificent white butt-cheek. He circled her cheek twice with his hand, knew she was feeling the slightly rough texture of his palm. A working man's hand - a hand that was claiming its due. He lifted that hand a little and brought it back down with a satisfying smack. Britney wriggled a little in his hold and let out a sharp gasp.

Experience - it was ALL about experience. He brought back his hand again and delivered another smack to her rear-end. He didn't have to think about it he just instinctively knew the weight to put behind those smacks. Not nearly enough to hurt bad but just enough to let Britney know who was in charge here, who was calling the shots. Just hard enough to let her know he was going to be just the way she loved him to be.

He saw the first pink tinge on her butt, his attention bringing the blood close to the skin. Putting the mark of his hand on her, the mark of his ownership. He gave three more quick-fire slaps and relished how the pink darkened, the hand-print became more obvious. Britney wriggled some more and let out a little moan. Not like she was trying to get away - just like she was playing at trying to get away. He paused a moment. Ah fuck it - if a job was worth doing then it was worth doing for real. That was his philosophy and so he brought his hand down one last time this one a little harder.

"Oooowwww," she squealed and finally turned back towards him, not entirely feigned outrage on her face. Lavon gave her a little chuckle in response and she gave him that look of hers. Fuck but the sweet little bitch was sexy, that particular look of hers could raise the fucking dead!

He let go of her and growled, "Get in there." Then he followed her into his bedroom. He'd been looking forward to this ever since he'd first caught a glimpse of that fine Austrian rear end. She got herself on the bed on hands and knees, her big ol' butt sticking out over the edge.

"Damn but you fine," he said softly and was rewarded with her little giggle of pleasure. She was indeed fine and she knew it and she was giving it up with no hesitation or regret whatsoever. Times like this old Lavon Crawston knew how truly blessed he really was. He paused and took in the sight of her - booty up and marked with the QOS. He knew he'd be remembering that sight so long as he had breath in his body.

Britney gave a little wiggle of her rear end. She wasn't just ready - she was impatient. He fucking loved this little bitch! He moved in and got down to business. His fingers quickly found the edges of the plug but this was where a man had to be gentle. He very carefully eased the plug back and heard Britney gasp a little, felt her body tense up. The butt plug was hard against the ring of muscle and she was feeling it. The discomfort clashing with her desires.

"Relax now baby, just relax, we got all night and you with old Lavon here. Time we're done you gonna be feeling real good." He kissed her back, ran his hands over her fair-skinned body, breathed words into her ear. He told her how beautiful she was, how desirable, how that fine whooty of hers was made to give the Black man pleasure. With each movement and word he felt her body responding to him. She was such a fine-tuned instrument, if ever a girl was made for the Brothas then she was the one. Just right for the attentions of a master of his craft and Lavon wasn't modest about his abilities.

He judged the time right and finally returned to the butt-plug. He was still careful and kept an eye on her. Her own eyes were closed and she was carefully measuring her breathing. Smart girl - she'd listened to some who'd gone before. Lavon just slowly increased his pressure on the plug and it gently moved and stretched her muscle until suddenly it had eased free. Britney gasped - but with relief rather than distress. Lavon nodded his satisfaction - she'd used plenty of lube. He put two fingers into his mouth and made sure they were well coated with saliva. He'd moved them in to replace the plug just before her ring had totally closed again. Perfect timing again - what could old Lavon say, he knew his job.

He gently moved his two fingers in and out of her, gently easing her tight muscle. Coaxing her into readiness for what was to come. She was breathing deep now - anticipating it. A young buck would already be trying it but Lavon knew better. They had all night and he wanted to savour it.

"This your first time?" He knew it was but he wanted her to say it.

"Yes."

"You done well - this booty way too fine for any limp-dick white boy. This gotta be Black-only you hear me."

"Yes sir - Black-only. For sure."

He believed her - and not just about her booty. This one wouldn't be settling for second-best in any regard. "Glad you came tonight. You know the Brothas gonna see this fine rear end and want a piece of it so you gots to be ready for them. You got a skilled mouth and a premium pussy but once you ready for them here you gonna be the dream ticket you hear. They gonna be some motha-fucking lucky men and they best not forget it."

She gave a little giggle at that. Her attention was off his fingers as they continued to explore and prepare her. It was getting less strange for her, less daunting, more just the way it was. Fine-assed white bitches needed all the skills if they were to please the Black man and that was what this one was made for. She might not articulate that or even think it but deep down in her most primal being she KNEW it.

It was time. Lavon eased his fingers out of her ass and turned her over so she was lying on her back on the bed looking up at him. Carefully, deliberately, he removed his clothing. When his shorts came down he was hard and ready. His Big Black Cock bobbed menacingly as he took the two steps toward her. All the time those wonderfully expressive brown eyes were on him, fixed intently on first his face and then on his big hard cock. Her white teeth showed and gently gripped her lower lip. He read the signs. She was anxious about this but she was ready.