tagMind ControlThe Pied Piper

The Pied Piper


Author's Note:

This story contains interracial lesbian sex and is written in the voice of someone living in the Southern states pre-WWI.


He called his self the Pied Piper, and Rusty said he's just like in the fairy story. I don't know 'bout that, but Lord Almighty he could play like the devil his self—he made that fancy guitar wail in the night like no man shoulda been able. I laid down before him like a dog, I did, whimperin' and howlin' along with the rest.

Mama Fay told me he was back after the town had run him out for playin' on the Lord's day but I didn't see him for a week after that. I spent my days pickin' cotton 'til my fingers bled, and my nights pickin' a banjo, tryin' to make a little bit extra to get us fixed, me and Mama, and maybe head us outta Mobile before winter come. I kept tellin' Mama I wanted to see them mountains, the ones with the snow on the tops that I saw pitchers of in Big Lem's books.

Rusty, she made me come wit her to see him. Mama said I was gonna get Rusty in trouble, hangin' round with her, me a sharecropper's daughter (leastways 'fore Papa done got killed) and her a colored girl—but Rusty didn't bother 'bout that and me neither. I didn't think people noticed, cuz we was both poor and pretty much invisible anyways.

Rusty, she said let's go, but Mama, she say he was bad mojo and she warned me not to. But Rusty, she come and walk me home that night and she say he gonna play for us girls this time, real special, just for us! I figure she meant me an her, but when we got there, they was bustin' out the whole place, and they was all juiced up and jumpin', just girls—white and black alike, everywhere!—dancin' like they didn't know how not to.

Getting in weren't easy, we had to jam and jiggle our way through. I seen him sittin' on a chair, leanin' back against the wall wit his guitar. There was a drummer this time, keepin' some sorta beat on a ole' hand drum, but mostly it was him, his fingers movin' like heat lightning at the end of the hottest summer days. He didn't so much play it as make it sing, like that guitar itself was his very own voice. There weren't no way to not listen to him, once you caught the beat. It rocked your world every which way 'til you were sure up was down and white was black and in was out.

I seen him there, and my heart was jerkin' under my ribs after him, like it was trying to bust outta my chest, and I saw that he seen me, too, and then it was me pullin' Rusty along, tryin' to get close. There was too many girls up here—I even seen the mayor's girl, Lucy—all pressin' together, grindin' they's hips to the music with each other.

I leaned back against the wall, just to have somethin' to hold up, and Rusty, she lean back against me, and I wrapped my arms 'round her waist. I didn't think nothin' of it, it seemed so natural to be rollin' together to the music, my hips cradlin' her hips, rockin' together like Mama used ta do when I was a babe.

His eyes were on us, and his hands moved like some voodoo, the music comin' faster, and me and Rusty, we were rolln' faster with it. I dunno what really happen, but somehow we got all twisted up together, me and Rusty, and we was kissin' on each other like we thought we would drown if we didn't. She was rubbin' her whole body up and down me, pressin' me into the wall.

Everwhere around me, girls was doin' the same, not just dancin' anymore, but kissin' and touchin' and lord help us, they were takin' off they's clothes like no one was there to watch 'em. But there was somebody watchin'—he was watchin', his eyes dancin' to their beat as them girls rocked out on the floor. He was watchin' them kiss n'touch and rub up against each other like this was just what he came here ta see.

Rusty's hands was holdin' onto me tight, and when my eyes met his and his guitar let out a long, lonesome wailin' sound, I ain't never wanted anything more than to feel that girl's sweet, hot flesh against mine. I started takin' down her dress and I saw him flash me a smile, his face dark like night but his teeth white as pearls

Rusty, she didn't say nothin', but she started workin' on my dress, too, and before I could say devil-don't-make-me, we was naked together against that wall, still rubbin' and chafin' up against each other like nobody's business. Rusty had these tiny little titties, and she was pressin' 'em against my great big 'uns, our nipples rubbin' together in time to the music.

I put my hand 'tween her legs and she spread 'em open for me. She was wet and thick like molasses. I was, too, and her fingers shoved up into me and we worked it out together, kissin' and touchin' and rubbin' each other in that dark room with the music pulsin' through us like our hearts beatin' and our blood pumpin' and our juices flowin' down our thighs.

I hooked my leg 'round hers, so's our bodies couldn't slip away from each other, cuz she was shakin' and jerkin' and wailin' against me. I looked over an seen him watchin' us, his eyes glowin' like fire, and then I's buckin' against Rusty, too, feelin' waves of love an heav'n rollin' all through me, 'cept it felt like I's possessed by something and maybe it was the devil after all.

Weren't no girl not naked in that room, and he played and played and played us until we was all tangled up together by dawn, mewlin' and cryin' like a pile of black'n'white kittens. He left us there in the mornin', and I heard him whisper when he walk by, "Next time, maybe dey'll pay me like they's s'posed to."

There was a big scandal in the town, and they woulda lynched him if they coulda found him. They never did. I think about him when I pick my banjo for Mama, sittin' on the porch and starin' off at those mountains in the distance.

When I think about him, I just wanna cry.

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