Recession Blues Ch. 06

"Then head east, there's parking I can show you." Ann followed Hilary's vague direction. "I'm thinking M&S sounds like the perfect place for lunch," she pointed as they approached the high end restaurant.

"Uhm, that's a little pricey," Ann cautioned, "We could go back to that sidewalk café, they have great food..." Hilary shrugged.

"You're helping me out, so it's on me. And we can park here," she pointed at the hotel next door to the restaurant.

"Are we supposed to park if we're not staying here?" Ann asked, and Hilary snorted.

"They take money, just like everyone else," the redhead told her. So Ann pulled in, taking the ticket and looped down into the surprisingly busy underground garage. They walked through the main lobby to the exit onto the street and below the restaurant. Ann was surprised when Hil turned south, though, meaning to cross the street.

"Lunch is this way," she chided her friend. Hil held up the Victoria's bag.

"I want to get one of these first," she argued, "This is sexy as hell." Ann looked around, sure someone would wonder what they were talking about. But nobody nearby was paying them any attention. Hilary checked her watch, "It's early, still, c'mon, it's just a block." Ann laughed, and let the smaller woman pull her through the weekday crowd of shoppers to the gaudy corner store. Hil showed the clerk what Ann had bought, and after casting a look at the women as if she knew they were a lesbian couple, the older woman led them to a display and then hastily excused herself.

Hilary stripped naked, slipping into the bustier and panty lingerie she had chosen, blue and silver in contrast to the black and gold that Ann had purchased. She pulled the thong panty up, then pushed it down, Ann thought out of a realization it had not yet been washed. But instead, the red head threw her blouse and skirt back on, holding up a finger.

"Wait here," she told Ann and disappeared. A moment later, she was back, holding two packages of stockings, the patterns and colors to match their lingerie. She stripped once again, then opened the stockings, deftly rolling them up her graceful legs and attaching the garters before she again donned the panties.

"What do you think?" she asked Ann, posing in various positions as she turned in front of the married stripper. Ann nodded appreciatively. "Put yours on," she insisted, and after briefly arguing, Ann did. She was puzzled when her friend insisted the panties go on over the stockings and garters, rather than under them. And she was embarrassed, because she should have chosen the Medium size rather than Small... Her breasts were not overly large, but with the pressure of the half cup bustier, they threatened to escape the lingerie if she was not careful. And the cleavage that was generated was as impressive as in anything Ann had ever worn. She shrugged the dress on over the lingerie, following Hil's lead, and the difference in her shape was startling. She immediately started to take the dress back off, but Hilary caught her hand.

"C'mon," she insisted, "We're dressed up. It's like we're twins. It'll be fun." Ann realized Hilary meant to wear the lingerie from the store to their lunch date.

"You aren't going to shoplift..." Hilary laughed.

"You don't think they'd let us get away?" her smile was impish, but she held up the tags she had taken off of the pieces, and then deftly collected Ann's, "I'm paying, spoilsport. Now let's go, I'm hungry." She led the way out of the dressing room, the underwear they had worn into the shop stuffed into Ann's bag. She insisted on paying for Ann's stockings before linking arms with Ann as the pair walked back up the hill to the restaurant.

The entire way, Ann was aware that passing men were eyeing them both, but Hilary paid them no mind, so she followed her friend's lead. Hil paused at the light, checking when her phone beeped. She pecked a response and then nodded, putting it in her purse as the light changed. Ann followed the smaller woman up the steps to the restaurant and through the revolving brass plated door. Like the plaza outside, there were more people not working than Ann had expected, and she assumed they would spend some time waiting, maybe at the bar. Instead of waiting at the hostess desk, though, Hilary said something too quietly for Ann to hear to the man behind the stand, who merely nodded, letting the women pass.

The first sign she was in over her head was when the man met Hilary in the passage between seating area and the kitchen. He was tall and broad and black, dressed impeccably, and clearly expecting them.

"Glad you made it," he smiled warmly at Hilary, leaning over to hug the much smaller woman, even as his eyes roamed from Ann's feet, lingering openly at her chest, then rising to her eyes. Instead of being embarrassed at being caught checking her out, the man's smile broadened as he moved gracefully around Ann's friend, "And you must be Ann," she found herself hugging him before she knew what was happening. And her body's immediate response left her flushed and unable to reply. "So glad Hilary could find me a date," he winked, and without a word caught hold of Ann's hand. His hand was nearly as big as Jacen's. He led the women onto the main dining floor.

Ann found herself seated by her 'date' and across the table from Hilary. There was another black man to her left, and a pair bracketing Hilary. Mike, Dave, and Craig, Ann nodded and managed to smile as introductions were made by the man who had said he was her 'date.' She was embarrassed, having missed his name, or rather which name was his. She was trying to remember if Hilary had mentioned this. She considered texting the other stripper, both for that and to find out what was going on. And she considered suggesting they visit the ladies' room, but wondered if her friend would come along. Hilary seemed far too busy talking and laughing with their lunch guests.

She reluctantly did the same, reminding herself they were in public, after all. The men were talking sports, the end of basketball season, the continuing baseball season, and the local franchise's shot at making the play offs. She almost asked if any of the men had been professional athletes, but did not want to offend anyone. She followed Hilary's lead, sipping from the drink that had been brought to her by the waitress after they had been seated. It was sweet... and alcoholic. The men had drinks, as well, and there were several appetizers. The women waited until the men had begun to serve themselves, and by then Ann was half way through her second glass, and was feeling pleasantly tipsy.

She had learned by then that Mal, which was the name of her 'date' was the newest member of the group. He was not the youngest, Craig had been quick to point out. They were all several years older than she and Hilary. She had seen that Mal and Dave wore wedding bands. Craig was seated to her left. He was the loudest of the group, and owned a manufacturing company of some sort.

In contrast, Dave was such a smooth talker Ann half believed she had asked to be invited to the lunch even before they had begun to enjoy their appetizers. It made sense, because he was a lobbyist, and apparently a successful 'power behind the throne.' Mike, she learned, owned the auto body shop chain that was emblazoned on his spotless, crisply starched button front shirt. And Mal was a lawyer of some sort.

Over appetizers and fresh drinks, the conversation turned to the economy of the city, the men's frustration at the lack of the leadership and improvement in the black community's position all had expected after the last election. Things threatened to get heated when Dave suggested that if business owners like Mike would take less in profit and hire more people the economy would be in better shape. Mike snorted, telling them his great grandfather had been a butcher at the time of the Great Depression. And a successful one both among their community and whites. But because he had been successful he had accepted credit from those customers who had been purchasing from him for years, and before he knew it, his own business had gone under—the bank was not accepting IOU's.

"That, you polarizing prick, is why I just finished becoming the primary investor in the new inner city bank," he finished proudly.

"So you are going to help our people out," Craig nodded supportively.

"Fuck 'our people,' Craig," Mike shook his head, "I'm making sure that my own situation is secure. Even Bush was helping out banks."

"That attitude is not very helpful," Mal advised in what Ann recognized to be a polite admonition. Mike snorted again.

"It's realistic, newbie. If I'm not taking care of myself I can't take care of anyone else, can I?"

"It's possible to get too interested in your own account," Dave pointed out.

"Well I'm here, aren't I?" Mike's challenge led to conciliatory shrugs from two of the others.

"Less you're just here for yourself, cocksucker," Craig's smile was incongruous with his words. Mike rolled his eyes, and did not respond. Ann had seen that all four had a lapel pin that read NBUF. Three of the men's were gold, Mal's was silver. Dave's had a diamond—CZ she guessed—at the middle of the B.

"Uhm, what's NBUF?" she asked without thinking, and then shrank back when all four men pinned her with intense stares. Hilary giggled and then answered,

"It's a black business foundation or something like that," her friend waved her hand, "You know like Elks for the brothers." Ann was horrified, expecting the men to take offense, but they just laughed.

"We're not discriminatory, little girl," Craig leered at both women, "We're including you after all." Hilary giggled, and Ann smiled, telling herself the men had just wanted attractive eye candy to share at lunch. And she could almost understand it, considering that wherever she looked she kept seeing the other diners were watching the small group. She was also glad the men were not upset at her asking questions; they were even offering answers.

"So is this your monthly meeting?" she asked, trying not to sound too skeptical, and taking a drink to hide her persistent anxiety, "And what are these drinks? They're so good." Hilary giggled again at Ann's non-sequitur.

"We're just taking a break from the annual convention," Craig answered, "And that's Booty Juice," he continued, the men chuckled at the women's reaction.

"Seriously?" Hilary was obviously as skeptical as Ann. Craig held up his right hand, thumb over his pinkie, the other three fingers extended.

"Scout's honor," he told them.

"And you were a scout?" Hilary challenged with a smile.

"That's where I learned the salute," Craig told her. The appetizers had been cleared by then. There were salads for everyone, classic Caesar salads for the women, and wedge salads for two of the men, the chopped salad for Mal, and the walnut salad for Dave. Aware that she was very tipsy, Ann left her drink alone, opting for water with their second course. But by the time the waitress was collecting the empty salad plates, her water was gone, and there was no pitcher for a refill.

The men had moved on to business. She heard something about 'reparation' and had almost inquired what it meant, but lunch was so enjoyable that she just sat smiling, glancing at their fellow diners, who were still watching them to a man. It was Hilary who suggested a trip to the ladies' room. Ann had nodded, standing up, and asking the men if she could leave her purse, which Mal assured her would be fine. She followed the smaller redhead back to the front of the restaurant, and to the bathrooms on the opposite side of the hostess' desk.

When they were safely inside, Hilary threw her arms around Ann, kissing her briefly flush on the lips, which left her blinking in surprise.

"I'm so glad you agreed to help me!" Hilary gushed, adding, "Imagine if I had to do this alone..."

"Mal and, uh Dave?" The way the too smooth political animal had draped his arm over Hilary's chair while talking with the others, Ann had guessed he was the other 'date.' Hilary looked at Ann in puzzlement, then giggled.

"You're so funny," she rolled her eyes, then stepped into the first stall. "You're OK if we have to put on a little show first? Nothing gets the guys going like some girl on girl." Ann closed her eyes, the memory of Hilary's lips on her nipples immediate and powerful.

"Uhm, no, that's fine," she said, realizing that the men must have hired Hilary and she to do a private strip show. "Are we going back to the club after lunch?" She thought that they would all fit in the larger private booth. She wondered if the heavy curtain could contain the noise of their fucking their dates. Ann blinked again, at what she had just calmly considered. But prodded by the sexy presence of the big black businessmen, and pushed by Hilary's kiss and 'girl on girl' question, Ann was suddenly sufficiently aroused she was having a hard time focusing. She shook her head at the absurd thought.

"I think I'm drunk," she told Hilary and went into the second stall, settling carefully on the toilet as Hilary giggled. "Who names their son Mal," Ann murmured to herself. That elicited another snicker.

"It's Maulik," Hilary told her, and then spelled the name, "He goes by 'Mal' probably so people don't get all weird." Ann nodded, and could admit that it made some sense. She decided not to risk being labeled as one of those 'weird people' by pointing out she could not imagine naming a child 'Maulik,' either. She dug her phone out of her purse, typing in the acronym the men were wearing. And then she began to read.

"Oh my God, Hil," she said a moment later, "It's practically a revolutionary group."

"What are you talking about?" Hilary asked. She had exited her stall and was washing her hands.

"The National Black Unified Front," Ann insisted, "They are lobbying for reparations... you know, repayment for slavery." Hilary sounded honestly surprised,

"Huh," She shut the water off, "Don't worry, they don't expect us for free, Ann."

"I didn't mean..." Ann stopped talking, focusing on not dropping her phone as she hastily wiped, flushed, and exited the stall to wash her hands as well, "I wonder what else they stand for."

"Apparently for interracial relations," Hilary quipped, "At least where white woman are concerned. C'mon, Ann," she scolded gently, "We can't keep our dates waiting."

Although the prospect of doing a private dance for Mal and his friends was still frightening, there was also an unmistakable excitement, and long after the meal Ann would admit to herself she might not have ever had such a delicious lunch. The men's plates were overflowing with food. Craig had selected the ultimate mixed grill, which included shrimp prepared two ways, salmon, and scallops. Mike had gone with the seafood trio, which was the same shrimp and salmon, without the scallops. Dave had gone with the classic 'surf and turf,' a lobster tail and a filet. And Mal had chosen the stuffed salmon.

The women's plates were smaller, and as with everything else, had been chosen for them. But the crab cake was delicious, as was the butternut squash orzo with which it had been paired. Her water glass had not been refilled, and after emptying her 'booty juice' Ann suggested it was maybe too sweet to go with the main course. Craig said something around the scallop in his mouth, the only word of which Ann caught was 'tea,' and she nodded appreciatively. It even looked like tea when it arrived, but the first drink disproved her impression. The men had ordered her a long island iced tea, and laughed at the coughing fit that resulted. She did not complain though, admitting it was less sweet than the booty juice had been.

By the time the waitress began to collect their empty plates, Ann was freely answering questions, asking her own, and laughing with the others as if they were old friends. Although Ann was not sure she could eat another bite, the men had insisted on ordering dessert. A pair of the signature 'chocolate bags' appeared, a dark chocolate shell within which had been piped white chocolate mousse with berries. And of course there was a final round of drinks. She did not consider that the men were drinking coffee, absently musing aloud that she was not going to be able to drive for a few hours.

"You missed some." She shivered at the timbre of Mal's voice, and blinked, looking up at him in puzzlement. He lifted a hand, collecting a spot of the white chocolate mousse that had been at the edge of her lip and then licking his finger clean. Ann's body responded so strongly she nearly moaned.

Her head was still spinning, nearly her entire focus on her arousal as the group left the restaurant. Her first recognition of her surroundings was as they sauntered through the hotel's spacious, ornate lobby. Mal's arm was draped casually over her shoulder and she could see that Dave had Hilary's arm through his, and her friend was pressed against him as they walked.

"How'd you know where we parked?" she giggled, realizing she was leaning against Mal in the same way. Her escort chuckled, but did not answer. Ann offered no resistance as they turned, and instead of crossing to the parking garage entrance, the small group approached the elevator. There was one waiting, and Ann was still wondering just what was happening as they stepped in and the plushly appointed, mirror walled car began to rise.

"Where are we..." Ann stopped, remembering she and Hilary were supposed to strip for the group. She looked up and found Mal's lips were moving to meet hers. They were kissing then, passion flashing to life, taking over Ann's body. She moaned, hands coming up, pulling him down, trying to pin him in place. She moaned again as his hand slid down over her breast, thumb slipping away from the fingers, finding and massaging her erect nipple through her dress. She shuddered, kissing at him more hungrily, pressing her chest against his probing hand. Her own right hand dropped between them, cupping his groin. She shivered at the bulge she found. Mal broke their kiss, lifting his head, which emphasized how much bigger he was as he chuckled.

"You're impossibly sexy, Ann." He grinned, "Think you can wait until we get to the room?" Blushing, Ann looked over, first seeing their own reflection in the mirror—the mans' dark skinned hand cupping her breast, and her own curled against his groin. Her gaze flickered nervously toward the others, but Hilary was kissing Dave, her and had her left hand against Mike's crotch. She immediately glanced at Craig, but the heavy set black man seemed more interested in his smart phone, which he had raised as he leaned into one corner of the elevator.

Mal's lips touched Ann's neck, then, and the white wife moaned again, pressing herself against him as her attempted 'yes' response stuck in her throat. Would she really let him fuck here there in the elevator? The chime rang, then, and Mal pivoted away, his left hand catching Ann's right where it had caressing him through his slacks. She saw that they had risen to almost the top floor. The words 'Penthouse suites' was stamped on the gold panel beside the 15 button, which was lit.

To her surprise, there were many people in the floor's foyer outside the elevator banks. She realized that most of them were black; the only other white people she saw were women similar in dress and age to she and Hil. The double doors of the suites across from the elevators were thrown wide, and she could see men and a few women moving about in the oversized rooms beyond. As Mal led her off of the elevator, into the swirling crowd, the rest of their party was close behind. He paused, speaking to several men, all of whom seemed to be eyeing Ann critically. One man with an obvious toupee and the fake smile of a used car salesmen went so far as to ask if 'they had room for another.' Mal patted the smaller man's shoulder, apologetically saying, 'Maybe next time, Gates.'