Chapter 9
Billy Clyde kicked up a spray of dirt as he roared out of the parking lot. Damn, it was good to be back. Sissy boy Bernard had kept him cooling his heels for three long weeks while he mooned over that rich 'Eyetalian' piece of fluff. Not that it was going to do old Bernie any good; he'd just freeze up as always and count on Billy to take care of things. Well, at least this time he was making it interesting; that big blonde Erika looked like she needed some solid grudge fucking. And that Turner woman had an ass just made for some Billy dick. More importantly to Billy Clyde, Missus Money Bags also had a sweet young daughter.
Billy Clyde skidded to a halt at the Quick Pack Store, reached down and adjusted his swelling dick, and then jumped out of his truck. Damn he was horny; good thing he was only an hour from home. Billy bought two six-packs of Bud and a carton of Marlboro Lights then sauntered over to the payphone. After a brief two-minutes' conversation, Billy walked back to his truck all smiles; in sixty-five minutes, he was going to be knee deep in pussy.
Darla McCracken was also smiling when she hung up the phone. Billy Clyde had never been away this long and, for the last week, she had been going stir crazy.
"Girls," she called excitedly, "put on your nice dresses. Daddy Billy is coming home."
Jake was not in the euphoric mood that Billy Clyde was that Saturday morning. He felt he had accomplished something the previous night with his former self and wife, but the evening had been more emotionally draining than he had thought it would be. Seeing Rachael had unnerved him; sure, she was no longer a part of his life, but he could not just dismiss the twenty plus years they had been married. It was especially hard because he was the only one at the table who knew that her health would deteriorate so very quickly. Jake gave a silent prayer that the path he had paved for her would lead to recovery or remission.
Jake tried to shift his focus back on Debbie as they motored toward Boston. Debbie had the Social Security binder out again, but she was talking more about the good time she'd had rather than the Social Security Trust Fund. Debbie had gone out with Sergeant Farmer after dinner last night. They had invited Jake but he had begged out of going with them. Debbie and Farmer had ended up at the NCO (Noncommissioned Officers) Club where Debbie proceeded to drink most of the guys with them under the table. Farmer had been the exception; he had stayed sober hoping to get lucky. Debbie let Jake know that she had mostly behaved herself despite how handsome and nice the young sergeant had been.
"But next month when we come back, all bets are off. I told Johnny (Farmer) that I would go to the Tenth Group's Annual Ball with him. Heck, I'm even scaring up dates for the rest of the single guys on his team. Did you know that Mister Cole's wife left him during Desert Storm? I wonder how he and Erika would get along?"
Jake smiled as Debbie excitedly blathered on; she usually never got this animated. Jake and Melissa were also going to the soirée; Jake had been asked to be the guest speaker.
Debbie's declaration veered Jake's thinking back to what Julie had said about his sisters.
"Debs, I hope taking care of me is not preventing you from settling down and getting married. Julie thinks you and Angie are single because of me. I'd feel awful if that were the case because you both deserve to be happy."
Debbie studied his expression for a few seconds then laid her hand on his cheek.
"That was a sweet thing to say, Baby Brother, but I'm doing exactly what I want to do. Settling down is the last thing on my mind right now. I have zero interest in having a husband and want children even less.
"Angie has her own agenda. Now that Terry Steyaert has retired and she is top dog at Turner Furniture, she is making noises like she wants a family. I know she is sure crazy about that Air Erika pilot she has been dating."
Jake nodded, "Mark Dozier. I've talked to him a couple of times. He's a nice guy, although he is even younger than Sergeant Farmer."
"Yeah, we decided that we were going to find ourselves impressionable young studs and raise them right," Debbie joked.
They arrived at Logan Airport at ten-thirty; it had taken nearly two hours to drive forty miles in the nightmarish Boston traffic. By eleven, they were airborne over the ocean headed south. Three hours and five minutes later, they landed in Daytona.
The heat and humidity were stifling as they exited the small jet. Jake had to admit that, for at least the month of September, the crisp New England air beat the crap out of Indian summer in Florida. The small door of the Air Erika hanger opened just then and the love of his life strode out onto the tarmac. Melissa was dressed for the heat in a pair of khaki shorts and a white blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail while Wayfarer glasses perched on the top of her head. She seemed to float across the shimmering concrete as she walked quickly towards him. Then she was in his arms murmuring how much she had missed him. It was good to be home.
Melissa snuggled under his arm as they walked back to the hanger. Jake noted with approval the two unobtrusive security men that stood on either side of the door. Jake had become a fanatic about the safety of his family since the Tremont episode.
"Where's Erika?" Jake asked.
"She's in Gainesville with JJ for a swim meet," Melissa replied. "I thought we would go up tomorrow and watch him compete."
Jake agreed that he would like that very much. JJ was training hard for the 1992 Olympics while competing in as many swim meets as he could fit in. Sports Illustrated Magazine had pegged JJ as the next Mark Spitz, predicting great things for him in the next two Olympiads.
Jake, Melissa, and their entourage exited back out the front of the hanger. Jake stifled a groan as he saw that Melissa had driven her Corvette to pick him up. He looked yearningly at the big Chevy Suburban that the security personnel were loading his bags into as he resignedly shoehorned himself into the Corvette's tan leather passenger seat. For over twenty years she had been terrifying him with her driving, and this 'Vette was the scariest yet. It was a Candy Apple Red, six-speed rocket ship. Melissa saw his resigned look and smiled mischievously.
"Buckle up, Hubby," she said as she backed out of the parking space. "I'm driving this hearse so you just lay back and play dead."
Jake nodded glumly.
"That is exactly what I'm afraid of," he said.
Melissa gave a throaty laugh, jammed the transmission into first gear, and laid a hundred dollars worth of Goodyear Eagle rubber on the pavement of the parking lot.
By the time Jake was riding home with Melissa, Billy Clyde was taking a nap, well into his homecoming. A smiling Darla was in the kitchen getting his supper ready. She hummed to herself as she prepared the country-fried steak and mashed potatoes that Billy Clyde loved.
Darla Faye McCracken was a small waif of a woman; her slight stature, slim build, and pixie face made her look half her twenty-seven years. Darla was a true country girl, born and raised right there in Haney Hollow on Piney Mountain. When she was fourteen, she had married Davey McCracken, an older boy who lived across Spivey Branch, half a mile from her house. She did not care that much for Davey, but he was the first to offer her a way out of her parents' strict Baptist clutches and she jumped on it. Davey got himself a good job down at the sawmill and they settled into married life in a small trailer a mile from the mill.
Darla gave birth to their first daughter less than a year after they were married, then delivered the second one eleven months later. Davey took on an extra shift at the mill to support his growing family. He doted on his daughters and treated Darla like a princess. Being treated so well was exactly the opposite of what his young wife actually wanted: as a result, the better he treated her the more demanding she became. Then she met Billy Clyde Drexel.
She had heard of Billy Clyde, hell, everyone in this part of Beasley County had; he was the King of Piney Mountain. Billy Clyde had a reputation as a mean and ornery man. He was a man with shady money who mysteriously disappeared for stretches at a time and cunningly stayed just out of reach of the law. Within five minutes of meeting him at Spivey's General Store, she was on her knees beside his truck learning how to suck dick as her babies dozed in the truck bed. She became his when he tangled his hands in her cropped strawberry hair, pushed her face against himself, and made her swallow his seed.
The blowjob outside Spivey's was the start of a torrid affair that introduced Darla to all that had been missing in her life. Davey got wind of their antics and suddenly grew a backbone; he demanded she stop seeing Billy Clyde. It was too little too late, however, and she just ignored him. Just when Davey had steeled himself to confront Billy Clyde, a freak accident at the sawmill ended the matter.
Davey was the mill's second shift foreman. One of his duties was to shut the mill down for the night after his sawyers went home. One morning, the day shift foreman found his body when he was powering up the mill. Somehow, Davey had fallen into the massive six-foot bladed gang saw and had been sawn completely in half. Some had their suspicions about the accident, but knew better than to voice them lest word got back to Billy Clyde. Any official suspicion was dispensed with by the affidavit Billy produced from his employer stating that Billy was working late in Atlanta when the tragedy occurred.
Davey's coffin had barely cleared the side of the hole he was being buried in before Billy Clyde had Darla and her daughters ensconced in his doublewide trailer a half-mile from Bernard Kingston's mountain retreat. Billy even secured Darla a job keeping the cabin clean for Bernard's infrequent visits. Darla did not question why she was not allowed near the large log cabin when Mr. Kingston was in residence. Nor did she question the times that she found some kind of blood splatters when she cleaned up after Kingston had been there. Billy told her what went on up there was none of her business. What she did know was that Billy used her the best after one of Kingston's stays.
Billy Clyde had taken Darla's submissive nature and molded her into the perfect little love slave. In turn, Darla steered women she knew towards Billy Clyde. Far from being jealous, she actually got a thrill from watching him break in other women. Thanks to Darla, he had all the prime pussy he could handle. Darla even lured her own mother over and watched as Billy Clyde had his way with her. Both Darla and Billy were surprised at how well Mama took to hard use. Sure, there was a lot of crying and threats at first, but in the end, they had to force her to go home. It still pushed Billy's button when the respected wife of the local preacher came over and begged for his cock.
Darla thought it only proper when Billy started to pay special attention to her daughters. After all, he owned them just as he owned her. And little Dora and Darlene took to it just like her and her mama. Darla guessed it was just in their blood.
Darla slid a pan of biscuits into the oven, and started making a pitcher of sweet tea. It was good to be cooking for her man again. She walked down the hall to wake up Billy; but when she reached the door, she saw that twelve-year-old Dora already had done that. Dora saw her mom and tried to smile around the large dick sawing between her lips. Yep, Billy Clyde, all things considered, liked the young ones best.
Bernard Kingston joined the Turner for President campaign staff full-time during the last week of September. He was an immediate asset because of his facility with numbers. Bernard had the ability to glean valuable information from seemingly mundane demographic data. Jake was not Bernard's biggest fan, the man was too anal for Jake's tastes, but he treated the mathematician with the same respect he did everyone. Bernard got on much better with the women in the campaign. His grace and style resonated with them and his non-threatening nature made him easy to be around.
By the middle of October, all the candidates for the Democratic presidential nomination had tossed their hats into the ring. The other candidates were scrambling to separate themselves from each other, issue-wise, and catch up with Jake. By starting his campaign as early as he had, Jake had been able to usurp the high ground on most of the pressing issues of the day.
Jake also had the luxury of only having to focus on one opponent - Bill Clinton. Senator Paul Tsongas of Massachusetts had health issues; Jerry Brown (aka Governor Moonbeam) of California was too liberal for the mainstream; Senators Bob Kerry and Tom Harkin were not national figures and lacked the charisma or money to become ones. Clinton, however, was charismatic, and an exceptional campaigner. Georgia was so important to Jake's campaign because it could be where Clinton staged his first primary victory as he had done in Jake's previous life. A victory in Georgia might again give Clinton the momentum he needed to sweep the south and steamroll to the nomination.
With everyone who was going to run announced, the expected internecine sniping began. The press started digging into the candidates' backgrounds and searching for the inevitable skeletons in the closet. Jake had prepared well for this test and had already launched campaign ads to counter questions about his age and qualifications.
Jake's campaign organization had settled into an efficient machine and Bernard Kingston turned out to be a real asset. Bernard's obsessive nature drove him to producing an almost flawless product. His numbers and their implications were always spot on. Melissa and the other advisors began to rely on his datasets and his interpretation of them.
Bernard crunched his numbers and made his grandiose plans unaware that his carefully constructed coping mechanism was about to short-circuit. Bernard had developed his alter ego Billy Clyde shortly after his mother had died. Billy Clyde was the outlet for all the emotions that were hopelessly bottled up in Bernard's tortured mind. For the past twenty years, the relationship had worked perfectly; when things reached a point where Bernard could not handle matters, he simple switched on Billy Clyde and retreated to a compartment in his mind that was blind to Billy's doings. When his emotional state reached homeostasis, Bernard came out of hiding and reassumed control. The key to the complex relationship was that Billy appeared only when Bernard wanted him to, and Billy would quietly subside on command.
About the time Bernard became fixated on Melissa, his rigid control had started slipping and Billy Clyde started to rebel. Bernard started to do things that were out of character for him, such as rashly leaving his job and jumping on Jake's campaign bandwagon. The impulses he started giving in to caused him stress, stress made him call on Billy Clyde more, and every time Billy appeared, Billy's psychopathic entity became stronger. A freak event of nature finally tipped Bernard on his side.
By the end of October, Bernard had firmly established himself as an integral part of the Turner campaign. Bernard was fascinated with the work but was becoming frustrated with his lack of progress with making Melissa fall in love with him. The combination of new surroundings, new people, and unrequited love meant that Bernard sent Billy Clyde back to Piney Mountain every seven to ten days.
Darla McCracken was ecstatic about the turn of events that brought Billy Clyde home more often. As a bonus, Billy Clyde came home wound up tighter than a banjo string, just the way she liked him. On his first night home, they went to the Duke's Juke Joint to dance and he had beaten a man unconscious just for talking to her. Then he had dragged her out to the parking lot, draped her across the hood of his truck, and fucked her senseless. To Darla's way of thinking, that was love with a capital L.
Bernard rushed back to Palmdale from one of his trips to Atlanta on the twenty-sixth of October. He had been gone for five days; the last two spent cooling his heels because the Daytona Airport had been closed. The airport was closed because a late season hurricane took an unexpected turn and had come ashore just south of Palmdale. Erika had called him and told him his seventh floor oceanfront rental condominium had been damaged; but Bernard was not prepared for the devastation that actually greeted him. The ocean facing windows and sliding glass doors had blow inward and everything he owned was a waterlogged, sodden mess.
Melissa had insisted that he stay with them at the ranch until they could get his place fixed up. Bernard, still in shock, agreed. Being at the ranch actually added to Bernard's stress level. For one thing, living with other people was new and uncomfortable to him; for another, seeing Melissa being all lovey-dovey with her husband made Bernard's plan of stealing Melissa seem futile. After only two days Bernard was ready to move; he was on his way to tell Melissa that when Billy Clyde asserted himself for the first time in their history. Billy Clyde had already determined that sexually naïve Bernard had his sights set on the wrong Turner woman. Being in residence at the ranch put the right one in close proximity. Billy Clyde's practiced eye had already determined that thirteen-year-old Mikayla Turner was the one vulnerable and ripe for the plucking.
Bernard's shattered life made it easy for him to accept the reversal in roles between himself and Billy Clyde. The transition was seamless as Billy took over. Billy, unlike Bernard, did not hide whenever he passed overt control of their functioning to Bernard; instead, he actively supervised Bernard's actions. As a result, he held Bernard together and the change went unnoticed.
Jake was still not overly fond of Bernard but grudgingly admitted that he was a genius at what he did and a boon to Jake's presidential campaign. Jake's misgivings about the man were further assuaged when Trish Wellington did not see a problem with Bernard. Trish said Bernard's fastidiousness was a common trait of people with ordered minds. Of course, Bernard had instantly recognized who Trish Wellington was and had acted his most disarming. Bernard had a lifetime of experience fooling people; so sliding by the radar of the eminent psychologist was accomplished with practiced ease. Even Jake had to finally admit that compared to Carl McClelland, the quirky chemist, Bernard was not all that strange.
Unfortunately, Billy's assessment about Mikayla's vulnerability was entirely correct. Mikayla was fighting self-esteem issues at school and dealing with a burgeoning sexual awakening at the same time. Mikayla had the urges her mother had experienced at that age but lacked the self-assurance that Melissa was gifted with. So, when Mr. Kingston showed an interest in her, it made her unusually happy and grateful. Billy Clyde, acting through Bernard, shrewdly eased her along with compliments and the attention she craved.
One Thursday afternoon after a rough day at school, she walked into the office that he used at the ranch. Mikayla was wearing a cute miniskirt, sneakers, and a simple white blouse.
"Hey Mr. K," she said, "got a minute?"
Billy Clyde smoothly took over from the number-crunching Bernard. He swung his chair around and smiled at her.
"I always have time for pretty women," he replied.
Mikayla smiled at the compliment and sat on the leather couch that was against one wall. Billy Clyde clicked off the spreadsheet Bernard had been creating and joined her.
"I like that skirt, it shows off your long sexy legs. Now, what can I do for you?"
Mikayla preened at the compliment, then her face clouded.
"If my legs are so sexy, and I'm as pretty as you say I am, why do the boys ignore me?" she asked miserably.
Here it was, the moment for which Billy had been waiting.
"Boys your age are stupid and immature. They think a big set of breasts is what makes a woman sexy. I am older and know better. I look at you and see a sexy young woman I would love to be with; young guys are too shallow to see you that way."
Mikayla's eyes widened at his revelation but she continued with her lament.
"Well, not only am I almost flat-chested, I also don't know anything about anything. Mom and Dad are so busy with the campaign they are never home; and they are so overprotective I might as well be in prison. I'll be an old maid by the time I'm allowed to try anything and no one will want me then either," she sniffled.
Billy pulled her against his chest and pretended to comfort her. This was too easy. Billy acted as if he were thinking, and then held her at arms' length.
"It breaks my heart to see you this way, Mikayla; but maybe I can help. It seems to me that you would have more self-confidence if you had some experience with boys. Maybe when we are alone I could act like I was your boyfriend. I could show you a few things and answer your questions."
Mikayla looked at him so gratefully that Billy Clyde knew the deed was as good as done.
"You'd do that for me, Mr. K?"
"Sure, as long as we kept it between just us, I'd be happy to help. But if we are going to be boyfriend and girlfriend, calling me Mr. K. doesn't cut it. Why don't you call me Billy and I will call you Kay. That way, if we ever slip, we are covered."
"Billy. I like the name, this is so cool," she said excitedly.
'Okay then, we are officially an unofficial couple. Now what can I help you with?"
Mikayla blushed and cut her eyes towards the floor.
"I don't know, Billy," she whispered shyly, "I guess you could teach me to kiss first."
Billy kissed her thoroughly; her eyes flew open when his tongue pushed into her mouth. Then they fluttered closed as she warmed up to her first French kiss. One thing was clear to young Miss Mikayla: the descriptions of the act she had heard from other girls paled in comparison to the real thing. Mikayla pushed herself against Billy and kissed him harder. Billy Clyde was astounded at how passionately the young teen was responding. The pair kissed a little longer and Billy Clyde stroked her slim muscular thigh. Mikayla jumped a little at his touch, but never broke their kiss. Billy Clyde finally pulled back his head. Mikayla followed his lips protesting with disapproving sounds the breaking of their kiss. Billy Clyde eventually pushed her back to arms' length. Now was not the time to go further, not with her brother due home any minute.
"Easy, Kay, we have to be careful. But if you keep you mouth shut, we can try to steal a longer time tomorrow."
"Ok, Billy, it's a date. That was so wonderful, thank you - thank you," she gushed.
"You were the one that was wonderful," Billy Clyde said. "Now scat. I'll see you tomorrow, wear something sexy for me."
Mikayla nodded brightly and kissed him again before she slipped out the door. Billy Clyde smiled to himself and adjusted his painfully erect dick. She was a hot one, no doubt about it. He could have probably gone much further than he did with her but, then again, she might have panicked. Billy had a lot of experience to go by and knew that a slow approach usually guaranteed a high-quality success. But that was not doing anything to relieve his bloated balls. Oh well, he shrugged, he would remedy that tonight.
Mikayla was feeling lonely and vulnerable that day partly because she felt abandoned by her parents who were up in Massachusetts. The Turners were attending the Tenth Group Annual Ball at the Hilton near Sudbury the next day. Debbie also went with them to attend the gala with Johnny Farmer. Debbie had brought three of the fitness instructors from the Palmdale HERZ as escorts for the young single guys on the team. In addition, Erika had been dragooned into coming along as Chief Cole's date.
Jake and Melissa felt secure leaving JJ and Mikayla at the ranch; it was physically one of the most secure places in the country. David Newton, the security consultant whom Tiny Johnson recommended in 1978, had been constantly updating the ranch's security system. Now, state of the art digital, laser, and fiber optics equipment monitored the grounds. Armed security personnel and the cowboys doing double duty monitored the security equipment and patrolled the grounds. The ranch house proper had three safe rooms with bulletproof doors, heavy-duty ventilation, and thick concrete walls. The ranch was safe from intruders; the problem was that the actual, unanticipated threat was an invited guest.
Billy Clyde ate the excellent dinner Tanya Nobles had made then excused himself saying that he was going to a movie. Billy dressed casually and departed the ranch in his leased Buick sedan. He drove to Deland to an apartment he had rented, changed clothes, and swapped his leased car for his trademark black pickup truck. Five minutes later, he was cruising down I-4 headed for The Barn, a popular country-western bar with a large dance floor.
Billy found a parking spot in the half-filled lot of The Barn and checked his look in the side mirror of his truck. He like what he saw. His build made the slim fit Levi's he wore look good on him. He also wore a pair of alligator hide Tony Lama cowboy boots that made him appear two inches taller than his five-foot-ten and a cream colored button up shirt. The best part of his appearance to him now, though, was his hair. Working for the Turners provided an added benefit in that he was now a part of a clinical study to test the fourth generation of Nomo-Cueballirol. From Billy's perspective, the new formulation was a rousing success. He now had at least twice as much hair; the bad comb-over he and Bernard had shared had been replaced with a stylishly short do. Consequently, he left his black Stetson on the truck seat and walked into the honky-tonk confidently bareheaded.
Sheri Goldblatt eased her Mercedes into the same parking lot only five minutes after Billy. She also checked her appearance in the mirror. Unlike Billy, however, Cheri was nervous about going into the bar. Cheri reapplied a fresh coat of lipstick and opened her car door. Cheri was the quintessential Jewish American Princess from her size five Gucci pumps to the upturned tip of her surgically perfect nose. As she was about to swing her legs out of the car, her five-carat diamond wedding ring glinted in the lights. Cheri snorted angrily, twisted off the ring, and threw it in her glove compartment.
Cheri was spoiled, petulant, and had a bad temper. She was usually pissed off about something, but her ire tonight transcended 'my pedicure is awful' or 'I had to wait ten minutes for my spa treatment' anger. The object of Cheri's considerable wrath was Doctor Phillip T. Goldblatt, DDS, her conniving, cheating, scum-sucking dog of a husband. That Phillips was cheating was bad enough, but finding out by overhearing two of her friends talking about it at the Country Club was devastating. Right now, Phillip was at the American Dental Association convention in Las Vegas with his paramour, the big-breasted blonde bimbo who was his hygienist; and apparently, everyone in the world had known about it - except her.
Well, tomorrow they would know something else, because tonight she was going to pick up some hillbilly hayseed and give him the treat of his life. Then tomorrow she was going to tell her best friend Trudi Waxman. Trudi might not have invented gossip but she sure had made it an art form. The only way to get the word out faster than telling Trudi was to announce it on the radio. Cheri smoothed her tight, calf-length black skirt over her shapely little butt and sashayed into the bar. Phillip was about to learn that paybacks were a bitch.
Billy Clyde was insolently slouching against the bar checking out the available talent when Cheri walked in. Billy caught Cheri's nervous glance and held up his half empty longneck in a mock salute. Cheri shot him a look of scornful loathing - then remembered her purpose and flashed the Urban Cowboy her perfectly straight, pearly white smile. Her smile was so contrived and insincere it cracked Billy up.
Cheri walked up to the bar and took a seat next to Billy. The bartender appeared but before Cheri could order, Billy spoke up.
"Give the little lady a Long Island Iced Tea and bring me another cold one."
Cheri gave Billy another of her disingenuous smiles. Billy laughed at her and took her hand in his.
"You can put away the phony smile, Missy," Billy said, "because before the night is over you'll be giving me the real one. Now come on, I want to sit in a booth."
Cheri picked up her drink, slipped off the stool, and allowed Billy to lead her over to a row of booths by the dance floor. The jukebox was blaring a cheating song when she slid across the red vinyl surface of the bench. The irony of the song and the moment were not lost on Cheri. Cheri Goldblatt did not know why she had let this goat-roper order her around. It certainly was not her style; usually she was the one imperiously ordering people to hop to it. Something about the man, though, made her feel as helpless as a rabbit clamped in the jaws of a wolf. Cheri shivered at the thought and turned towards him.
"Hi, I'm Cheri," she stammered.
Billy smiled at her and dropped his hand onto her knee. The smile showed teeth as nice as Cheri's but the smile never reached his cold blue eyes.
"Lo, I'm Billy Clyde," he said. "Now that we've been introduced, lets cut the bullshit. You don't belong in this place; why are you here?"
Cheri was scared and strangely excited at the man's bluntly direct manner. Deep inside herself, she knew that there would be consequences for any response less than total honesty.
"I found out my husband was cheating on me so I want to get even," she whispered.
Billy possessively slid his hand up her thigh a few inches.
"Why come to this place instead of seducing one of his friends or business associates?"
Blushing furiously, she hung her head and let the wings of her short black hair cover her face. Her normal assertive, pushy disposition was failing her.
"Philip is disdainful of working class people. He says they are vulgar and low class. I wanted to rub his nose in the fact that I slept with someone he would detest."
Billy grinned in genuine mirth, this was getting better and better. He stood up and extended his hand.
"Looks like tonight you are about to get your wish. But first I want to dance."
Cheri was surprised at the smooth way Billy glided them around the dance floor but was affronted by the hand that he slid possessively down onto her butt. They finished the dance and sat back down in the booth. Billy's hand was back on her thigh, higher than ever but somehow it did not bother her this time. Cheri leaned into him and flirted her ass off.
Cheri began to relax and enjoy the evening. She was even enjoying Billy's very public displays of affection; they make her feel sexy. "Must be the Iced Teas I've had," Cheri thought. She even rubbed herself against his obvious bulge. What the hell, she did not know any of these people and it was not as if she would ever see them again. Cheri received another surprise when she started getting sexually excited by the dancing and Billy's attention. She was surprised because she was totally not a sexual person. She had performed her duty as a once-a-week sperm receptacle for her husband, just as a good wife should. But she had never once enjoyed having his hairy body covering hers as he grunted above her; the saving grace had been that Philip was not overly endowed and that his couplings never lasted very long.
Cheri stood up when Billy said it was time to go. Strangely enough, she was anxious to give herself to Billy and revenge was now only part of her motive. She followed him out to the parking lot and pointed towards her car. Billy held out his hand palm upwards.
"Give me the keys; I'm driving," he stated flatly.
Cheri handed him the keys and settled into the passenger seat.
"I have a room at the Marriott," Cheri said.
Billy snorted, "We ain't going to no motel, Sweet Pea. What kind of revenge would that be? We are going to your house so that you can finally get fucked properly on your own bed."
Cheri blanched but nodded and gave him directions. Twenty-five minutes later, the big black, wrought iron gates of Windermere swung open to let them into her expensive neighborhood. They completed the drive to her house in minutes and were soon secure in the garage. Cheri was on pins and needles as she led Billy towards the bedroom. Billy glanced around as they walked through the house.
"Nice place," he commented.
"Phillip's and my parents gave it to us as a wedding present. Our fathers are partners; they also set up Phillip in his practice."
Billy nodded.
"You can give me a tour later, right now we have business in the bedroom."
Cheri blushed and giggled as she pointed them through a set of double doors. For the life of her, she could not fathom why she was acting so childish.
Billy strode confidently into the room. It was well appointed but strangely impersonal. The room was as soulless as a hotel suite. He turned on the bedside lamp, sat down on the bed, and looked at Cheri meaningfully. Cheri stood nervously a few feet in front of him, not knowing what to do next. Billy settled that question for her.
"Strip," he said.
His statement caught her off guard. Cheri was very shy about her body; even her husband had never seen her nude with the lights on.
"Wwwhat?" she stammered.
"You heard me. Get naked; I want to see the goodies," he said firmly.
Cheri turned even redder as she stood there. Finally, she took a deep breath and reached back to unbutton the clasp at the back of her silk blouse. It took a fumbling second or two before her trembling fingers worked the fastener loose. She took another breath and pulled the garment over her head. She hesitated slightly before undoing her skirt and letting it drop to the floor.
Billy Clyde watched her without speaking, enjoying her fear and nervousness. His eyes swept over her as she stood trembling in her underwear. Her bra was trimmed in lace but was mostly functional and her panty hose covered what appeared to be a matching pair of panties.
"Keep going," he commanded firmly.
Cheri gulped then reached behind her to unfasten her bra. In a minute, she was as naked as the day she was born; her hands fluttered to cover herself, but she knew he would disapprove. Billy stood up and slowly walked around her, his fingertips lightly trailing along her skin. Cheri was so embarrassed she was about to faint; this was the most intimate moment she had ever had with another human being.
Billy could see how mortified she was so he dragged out her humiliation. His little Jew girl had a first class body. She was only about five-three and could not have weighted much more than a hundred pounds. She had very nice apple sized tits set high and wide on her chest. They were small enough that they did not sag and were capped with tiny pink nipples. Her complexion was pale with only a hint of tan on her arms and lower legs; this girl did not spend much time in the sun. Her best feature by far was her ass; it was small, high riding, and tight. To Billy all that marred her appearance was a verdant thatch of wiry black hair covering her crotch. Her reached down, grabbed a handful of her bush, and tugged lightly.
"This has got to go. Next time I see you this needs to be shaved off."
Cheri whimpered at the slight pain he was causing her and nodded emphatically.
"Good girl," he said, "now get on the bed."
Cheri scrambled onto her king size canopied bed, never taking her eyes off Billy. The man was a brute, and yet he had every nerve ending in her body atingle. He started casually disrobing as he stood next to the bed. She watched him avidly; he was only the second man she had ever seen nude, and compared to her pudgy husband, he was an Adonis. Cheri gasped when he lowered his underwear and his erect penis popped free. It had to be twice as big as Phillip's. There was no way that monster was fitting inside her, it would split her in half.
"It's huge," she whimpered.
Billy smiled at that because he was only slightly bigger than average. Her reaction confirmed his suspicion that she didn't know squat about sex. Billy wordlessly walked to the foot of the bed and climbed on it between her slightly parted legs. Cheri's eyes closed as she steeled herself for his entry, but they flew open when she felt his mouth down there.
In a panic, she frantically pushed his head away.
"Nooo," she protested, "that's disgusting."
Billy glared at her, quickly rolled her on her side, and twice brought his open hand down sharply on her exposed ass. It was the first time anyone had ever struck her in anger. She yelped and tried to cover her stinging butt. Billy snatched her hands away and flopped her onto her back again. He pinned her arms over her head and menacingly glowered at her.
"Don't ever tell me no again, Bitch," he growled.
Cheri looked up at him and nodded meekly. Intellectually she knew she should be scared to death but, in reality, she was just excited about what was next. Everything that Billy had done to her had stuck a pleasurable chord deep within her psyche. Even the spanks lingering sting felt wonderful. Then his head was back between her splayed thighs, his hands cupping her ass. Cheri's arms and leg muscles were clenched up awaiting her defilement. When his tongue expertly swiped up her small pink gash her breath whooshed out and her legs splayed out until her knees were on the bed.
"Oh god, what was he doing?" she mouthed silently. She had never felt anything that good in her life. Billy kept probing and licking with his thick tongue. Cherie started to gyrate her hips; she could feel her small vagina secreting moisture at an embarrassing rate. Billy seemed to like the taste of her, though, and lapped up all the moisture she was gushing.
When Billy saw that her tiny clit was poking out of its burrow, he flicked it with his tongue. He smiled as she bucked and grunted as if she had been jabbed with a cattle prod. Billy started lashing her clit with a vengeance and she started to swing her hips around frantically. Billy slipped a finger into her as he tongued her clit; her pussy was as tight as one of Darla's daughters. He wet the finger with her juices then replaced his finger with his thumb. He quickly prodded her anus with the finger slick with her juice. It slid into her surprisingly easily. He now had her in the patented Billy Clyde six-pack grip and could control her bucking.
Cheri lost it when his finger probed into her butt. The sheer perversity of what he was doing sent her over the edge. Her muscles locked rigid and she screamed as she had an orgasm that bested exponentially anything she had experienced to date. She was fifteen seconds into her massive climax when Billy Clyde finally mounted her. Her seldom-used pussy was still rippling in waves of pleasure when he started forcing himself into her. To Cheri, it was as if he were trying to rearrange her internal organs as he thrust hard against her resisting inner walls. It hurt like hell but she bucked her hips up for more anyway. It hurt but it hurt oh, so good.
It took Billy six slamming strokes before he wedged in and his pubic bone mashed against hers. Billy did not let her rest and accommodate to his size before he started a fast, hard, furious rhythm. Cherie turned out to be a screamer, cutting loose with blood curdling yells every time she came. After her second orgasm, Billy took her doggie style; after her third, he ate her again to keep from popping his nut. When he eventually unloaded in her, they had been at it for forty-five minutes. As soon as he was finished spurting he sent her to the bathroom to clean up. Cherie douched and brought back a warm cloth that she loving laved his member with. As they lay resting on the bed, she told him why she had been so inexperienced.
Cheri related that she was an only child, miraculously born to Selma and Noah Greenberg when they were in their forties. From the moment of her birth, she had the best of everything. She had attended a private girls school through high school and was engaged to Phillip, the son of her father's partner as soon as she turned eighteen. Phillip was six years older than she was. Handsome and dashing, he had swept her off her feet. She was a virgin on their wedding night, ignorant and shielded from the ways of the world. Although sex had been unpleasant, she had none-the-less been happy in her marriage. For seven years she had made Phillip the kind of home life her parents had enjoyed. He repaid her for her devotion by sneaking off to Vegas with his slut of an assistant.
Billy prompted her about the bottles of sleeping pills and prescription pain medications he had seen in their bathroom. She replied that Phillip wrote her a script for whatever she asked. Billy filed that tidbit away for future use; his plans called for some incapacitating drugs and now he had a source.
A grateful Cheri drove a now relaxed Billy to pick up his truck at
three in the morning.