2 comments/ 28355 views/ 34 favorites Jessie Palmer Ch. 01 By: deliciousthoughts This story is based on interracial lesbian seduction, reluctance and coercion (although there is a sprinkling of MF sex). The thoughts of a white women being seduced by a black woman is a long held fantasy of mine, but if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on without feeling the need to leave a derogatory comment. ***** A young reporter stumbles across an explosive story Most of Claire Taylor's journalistic assignments usually led down one cul-de-sac or another, which was why she was still a junior reporter. But there was something about THIS story that told her she could be onto something. This could be it ... the story that could help make her mark in the newspaper profession. She'd been following the details ever since they'd first emerged. And while other reporters told themselves it was an open and shut case, she wasn't so sure. Yes, to all intents and purposes the girl was guilty. But there was more to this than met the eye. Call it gut instinct, but she was sure of it. That's why she was here, at the Young Offenders Institute, about to interview the nineteen year old girl. The teenager could easily have passed as a model with her stunning face and curvaceous body. She was happy enough to show it off with a black skirt that stopped mid-thigh and a tight white top that strained to hold her ample breasts in check. Didn't these places have strict dress codes? The girl's gaze had found and held Claire's as soon as she had entered the room. Despite her young age, it was clear she wasn't short on confidence. "Hi Laura," she softly began, once they were alone. "I'm Claire, a reporter with the local newspaper. Thanks for meeting me—" "We agreed a payment," the girl interrupted, cutting her off mid-sentence. She had a sassy tone to her voice. "You have it?" Claire kept her face straight but smiled inwardly. The only reason she was here was that she'd agreed a small 'fee'. There wouldn't have been any meeting without it. "I have," she answered, lowering her voice. She had no reason to suspect they could be overheard, but payments to offenders were illegal. Newspapers did that sort of thing all the time, of course, but the recent high profile court cases had every one jittery. When she reached for her bag, a quick shake of Laura's head stopped her mid-movement. "Give it to Monika on your way out," the girl quietly said. "I just wanted to make sure we're on the same wavelength." Claire nodded. "We are." She would rather have avoided meeting Monika again. The way the butch guard's eyes had been all over her on the way to the interview room had made her shiver. Still, she was here for a purpose and that was the only thing that mattered. The teenager's large tits moved seductively inside her white top as she sat back, confirming Claire's suspicion that she wasn't wearing a bra. This time her shiver was accompanied by a tingle between her thighs. "Okay, what do you want to know?" Laura asked. She twirled a few strands of her long blonde hair between her fingertips as she spoke, like a modern day Lolita. "Your story," Claire said, getting straight to the point. "In your own words. Why don't you tell me your side of things?" The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I thought you were here to ask me questions," she countered. "Why don't you tell me what you know and I'll fill in the blanks." Claire tried to disguise her impatience. She'd only been allocated half an hour. Okay, a quick summary would do and then they could get to the meat of the matter. "You found employment working for a local Member of Parliament a short while ago," she began. "Melissa Rhodes." She glanced down at her notes again. "That was approximately a month ago. But she reported you to the police for stealing some jewellery from her and—" "That's pretty much it," the teenager interrupted again. "So what else do you want from me?" Claire leant forward and rested her hands on the small desk between them. If this girl thought she was going to take her for a ride, she could think again. "I want you to justify the amount I'm paying for this interview," she calmly said. "Otherwise the deal's off. There's much more to this than meets the eye and I want to know what that is." She raised a single eyebrow, as if to reinforce the point. She had nothing on the girl, of course, just her journalistic instinct. If Laura called her bluff, she'd have nowhere else to go. "Well?" she asked, making her voice sound more confident than she felt. "If you want me to pay Monika, I need something in return. The truth." The look in the teenager's eye told her she'd hit on something. It was just a flicker, but it was there all the same. "We both know that Melissa Rhodes is a prominent business woman," she continued, pressing home her advantage before the girl had too much time to think. "She was elected the first African woman MP in the local constituency. And that means her word will have been accepted as sacrosanct, whereas yours would have been doubted from the start. So—" "If you're asking if I stole the jewellery," Laura said, stopping her in her tracks. "I did. I wanted the bracelets, so I took them. Why should the rich have all the nice things?" Claire felt her heart sink. Had she misread the situation? Here she was again, entering another cul-de-sac. "What made you think you could get away with it?" she asked, trying to disguise the look of disappointment on her face. A few strands of the girl's long blonde hair fell over one eye as she cocked her head to the side. She sexily blew it away. "I didn't think she'd dare report it..." Claire's head jerked up from her notebook to meet the teenager's challenging gaze again. Dare report it? There was definitely something here. But what? "Why?" she softly prompted. "She can't afford for the truth to come out." The reporter's heart began to beat faster. Her instincts had been right all along. "The truth, Laura?" she asked, keeping her voice level. "And what exactly is that? "I thought you'd worked it out," the teenager said, in that clipped accent. "Did I expect too much?" She casually pulled down on her top as if to straighten it. The action—deliberate?—drew Claire's eyes to her tits and to the stiffened nipples on show through the fabric. Even through the material she could see they were long and thick. When her gaze returned to the teenager's face, she saw that Laura was grinning at her. "Lots of women look at me that way," she teased. "Wondering, just like you. Want to see?" She used both hands to drag her top up and above her breasts before Claire could respond. The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that at first all the reporter could do was stare. The girl's tits were just magnificent. Full and firm, with dark nipples that grew long and hard out of her small areola. She could easily pass as a Playboy centrefold. "Please cover yourself," Claire snapped, as a bead of perspiration began to form on her forehead. Should her mouth be feeling this dry? She took another sip of water as Laura nonchalantly tugged her top back into place. "You don't need to wonder no more," she said, with a wicked grin. "Now you know..." Claire tried to stare at her impassively, to ignore the smirk on the girl's face, but it wasn't easy. "This is getting us nowhere," she said, keeping the emotion out of her voice. But even as she kept her gaze fixed firmly on Laura's eyes, it was the image of those thrusting breasts that remained imprinted in her mind. "It isn't?" the girl drawled confidently. "Then let me spell it out. The truth is that I didn't work for Melissa. She was paying me for sex." Claire stifled a gasp. Paying for sex? She couldn't be serious, could she? Melissa Rhodes was a well-respected Member of Parliament. If there was even a semblance of truth in the revelation then she, her career, would be ruined. She reached for the glass of water on the table in front of her, playing for time as she thought it through. Had she'd stumbled onto the story of a lifetime, one that would give her the chance to establish herself as a serious journalist? Or was this girl just playing games with her? "If what you say is true," she slowly probed, unwilling to take the admission at face value. "Then why did she report the theft? Why take a chance of this coming into the open? It doesn't make sense." "Because she was pissed," Laura chuckled, as if it was that simple. "She'll drop the charges when she thinks it through. She'll have to. When she does, you'll have your proof that I'm telling the truth." Claire nodded slowly. That was true. If there was any credence in this girl's story, the last thing Melissa Rhodes would want was a reporter asking questions about their relationship. "Have you told anyone else?" she suddenly asked. If it was true, she wanted this story for herself. Any journalist breaking this as an exclusive would make their name for ever. "No way," Laura said. "I'm not stupid. Olivia is angry with me. She told me to stay quiet and it'll all work out." "Olivia?" "I work for Olivia. She said she'll talk to Melissa, help her understand she's been a little hasty." She laughed out loud, running a hand through her long hair and shaking it out. "Olivia told me to keep my mouth shut and I'll soon be out of here." "But you haven't kept your mouth shut," Claire queried, thinking it through. "You've told me. Why do that?" "You're paying me," Laura said defiantly. "You're paying me for my story, so now you have it. You have to pay. But we both know you can't use it." "I can't?" Laura laughed again. "Of course not. For one thing, I'll deny everything. For another, we both know you can't write about anything as sensitive as this. Not without proof. No-one would believe you and Melissa would sue your ass off." Claire fought back the pinpricks of frustration. Laura was giving her the story with one hand and taking it away with the other. But losing her cool would get her nowhere. "So what's the point of me paying you?" she asked, setting her notebook down on the desk between them for emphasis. "You're giving me something that may or may not be true, but that I can't use. You're giving me nothing." Laura smiled quietly as she cocked her head to one side again in that sexy way of hers. This time she used her hand to flick away the hair that fell over her right eye. "Ever heard of Jessie Palmer?" The sudden question took Claire by surprise. She thought for a few seconds, running through high-profile court cases, trying to place the name. It wasn't one she was familiar with. "No. Who is she?" "Look her up," Laura said. "She's an actress." "An actress? How is she relevant to our conversation?" Laura's smile broadened. "You could be her double. You have the same innocent look, hot little body, milky-white skin. Melissa would love you. She adores white girls like us." Claire's breath caught in her throat. Was Laura trying to deflect her from the question she'd asked, or was she simply trying to get under her skin? That wasn't going to happen, despite the unexpected lick heat that had found its way down between her thighs. "I don't think that's the point, do you?" she asked, trying to keep her expression neutral. "I said that—" "You don't?" Laura interrupted, curling some blonde hair around her index finger. "I thought you'd want to hear about Melissa. She's the real reason you're here, after all." Claire sat quietly, knowing she was on the back foot and that her allocated time was almost up. But there was a point to this, wasn't there? There had to be... "What about Melissa?" she reluctantly asked, making it obvious that she was glancing at her watch. The teenager ignored the lame gesture and instead her smile widened at the question. "She likes me to play with myself in front of her. She always finds that hot. How about you?" It took a few moments before Claire realised she'd fallen into a well constructed trap. Laura's body was slouched a little lower on her seat than before and her thick nipples were straining through the white blouse again. But it was the hand beneath the table that drew her attention. It was barely noticeable, but she could see that Laura's arm was flexing. The girl was touching herself... She watched the movement, enthralled, knowing should have said something to take control of the situation, something to restore order, but instead she just sat there unable to respond. The unexpected sexual tension was definitely getting to her. "You said I was giving me something that may or may not be true, but that you can't use," Laura continued, her fingers moving in a gentle rhythm now. "You're the reporter. You work out how to take things forward. But I'll help you..." "How?" The word came out as a croaky growl. This was absurd. The girl was openly masturbating as they talked. It even felt as if she could smell her aroma. And yet she was allowing her to get away with it. Becoming entangled in the sexual spell... "Nothing gets traced back to me," Laura continued. "You don't use my name. Understand?" Claire nodded. She'd finished her glass of water and wished she had more. "Okay. Write this down." She picked up her notebook and scribbled down the number the teenager gave her. "That's Leroy's number," she said. "He looks after Olivia's girls. Go see him." "What will he—" Claire began, but Laura was suddenly pushing up from her seat. It seemed the meeting was over. "He knows everything," the girl softly said. "It's up to you to get him to talk but whatever you do, don't tell him you're a reporter. Tell him you're interested in getting in the business. He'll like that. He has a thing for white women, too, so my advice is to wear something sexy when you meet." With that, Laura reached across the table between them as if to shake her hand. Claire leaned towards her, but at the last moment Laura brought her fingers upwards and touched them to the reporter's lips. She reflexively drew back, but not before the girl had traced her fingertips across her mouth. When she unwittingly licked at her lips, the unmistakable taste sent a whirlpool of emotions down to Claire's loins. "Make sure you pay Monika on your way out," the teenager said, grinning over her shoulder as she headed towards the door. "That was the deal." She was so confident about her sexuality that she didn't need to look back to know that Claire's gaze was fixed on her tight ass. ---------- Claire waited a moment before hurrying along the corridor towards the ladies room. She licked her lips a second time as soon as she pushed through the door. The intoxicating taste was circling around her senses, as if she'd been fed an aphrodisiac. She knew that she had to face Monika again, to pay her, but if she didn't take the edge off her arousal right now she felt as if she might go mad! Hurrying over to the sink, she watched her reflection in the small mirror as she eased her hand under the hem of her skirt. The woman staring back looked like her and yet she didn't. The face was the same, but her eyes were clouded with desire and her mouth was half open with need. This was wrong on so many levels, but the intense feelings in her supercharged body were impossible to resist. When she worked her right hand down inside her thong and touched herself, she let out an involuntary whimper. The immediate sexual charge that ran through her slender frame was overwhelming. Did Laura know how much she'd affected her? It was as if she'd lit a flame inside her... She planted her feet firmly on the floor and widened her stance, glaring back at her heated reflection in the mirror. The very thought of watching herself masturbate increased her arousal. When the warmth of her hand took her me towards a rapid climax, she wondered how she could be this close, this quickly. Lifting up onto her tiptoes to give herself better leverage, she worked a single finger inside her wetness, then a second. Laura had said that Melissa Rhodes liked to watch her masturbate. What would the Member of Parliament think if she could see Claire now? That wicked thought sent a shiver through her. Her orgasm began to swirl. When her thumb brushed her clit, it exploded. ---------- Once the intensity of her climax had subsided, Claire left the ladies room and headed back along the corridor. The sexual need burning inside her was still strong, but at least she'd be able to cope with it until she got home. Once there, her favourite vibe would be waiting... Monika was sitting at the desk when she returned to the observation room. Her short-cropped black hair and coloured tattoos on each lower arm cultivated a strong butch image, reinforced by the way her short-sleeved blouse displayed every ripple of her well muscled black body. Her gaze covered Claire's body again as soon as she entered the room, but it was the smile she gave her that was unnerving. It betrayed the faintest hint of amusement, as if she knew something Claire didn't. The thought gave the reporter goosebumps. Claire glanced around, looking for clues, and found them in the two monitors that sat on the desk infront of the woman. One showed the empty interview room in which she and Laura had conducted their meeting. Was that the reason for the glint in her eyes? Had she watched the encounter between them? "Ya have something for Monika," she asked, tapping her fingers on the desk infront of her. Claire nodded, pulling the envelope from her bag and handing it to her. Without checking that the agreed amount was inside, Monika opened the top drawer of her desk and slipped it inside. "An audience with Laura is worth every penny, don't ya think?" Claire gave a non-committal nod. In all honesty, the woman scared her and she didn't want to get into any sort of conversation. But Monika wasn't going to leave it there "Ya got what ya wanted?" Claire nodded again. The woman's eyes were all over her tits and she knew why. Her nipples were on display through her red blouse and they stiffened further under the intimidating gaze. The sooner she got out of there the better, but Monika's next utterance stopped her in her tracks. "I guess she got us both a little hot under the collar," she grinned, and then gave a brief nod towards one of the monitors. "I watched ya. Quite a show ya put on." At first, Claire thought she was referring to her meeting with Laura. But when she glanced at the second monitor, the truth hit her in the face. The picture on screen was the empty ladies restroom she'd just vacated. The one she'd masturbated in... "A lot of women get the same way thinkin' about that gal," she continued, pushing up from her chair. Claire tried to regulate her breathing as she took a couple of steps backwards. It was coming as fast as her pitter-pattering heartbeat. This woman was taller and more powerful than her and the brooding look in her eyes suggested she was thinking of something more than casual conversation. "Most don't run straight to the bathroom, though..." Perspiration instantly broke out on Claire's brow. She'd been caught out in the most embarrassing of acts and there was no point in denying it. All she wanted to do was get back to her car. But Monika was standing between her and the door. "Still feeling it?" the woman asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Claire took another couple of backward steps but all of a sudden the wall was behind her. There was nowhere to go. She knew she should be frightened—she WAS frightened!—but she didn't want to openly show how much she was intimidated. "I have to go," she said, with as much conviction as she could muster. Jessie Palmer Ch. 01 But when she tried to step past the strong guard, Monika's large hands grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall. "Ya go when I say," she snapped, grabbing both of Claire's wrists in one hand. She dragged her arms up above her head, holding them against the wall as her free hand reached for the front of Claire's blouse, squeezing one breast and then the other through the material. "No," she gasped, trying to pull her hands away from Monika's strong grip. It was an impossible task. The woman was much too powerful for her. When she dipped her head forward as if she was going to kiss her, Claire jerked her head to one side, away from hers. "Playin' hard to get?" Monika teased, her mouth only a fraction away. "Or do ya just like it a bit rough?" She forcefully squeezed one breast again, making Claire wince. And yet the sensation as she ran her thumb back and forth over her prominent nipple through the material elicited a moan. Oh God. The feeling went straight down between her thighs. "You can't do this," she gasped, almost pleading. There was nothing but amused contempt in Monika's gaze. She had Claire under her control and she knew it. "I can do anything I want," she snapped back. "For a start, I can show the other guards what ya got up to in the toilets. They'd like to see that. So why don't ya be a good girl while this black woman checks just how much Laura got to ya." Claire closed her eyes and thought about screaming as she felt the woman push a dark hand under her skirt. But what good would that do? She would probably cover her mouth with her palm to quiet her. Then what? Hurt her? Besides, she couldn't afford for anyone to find out what had happened in the ladies. Her chance to progress the story would be gone. She'd be ridiculed. Her heart was practically leaping through her chest as Monika worked her thick fingers inside her thong. Her face was so close to Claire's that she could feel her hot breath on her cheek. To her shame, when the woman stroked her probing fingers across her wet labia, she let out a little whimper. "Now lookee at that," the guard triumphantly breathed. "All nice and wet. Gagging for it..." It was insane, but Claire realised the woman was half-right. She was straight—she had always been straight—and yet there wasn't any doubt that the fear she was feeling was tinged with arousal. Monika stroked her one final time before pulling her hand away and holding up her juice-covered fingers in front of Claire's face. One by one, she slowly sucked each of them into her mouth. "Tastes real good," she said, flicking her tongue across her thick lips. "Wanna see how wet Monika is?" Even as she asked the question, her fingers were flicking open the top button on her uniform trousers. Grabbing Claire's wrist again, she pulled the reporters hand inside the gap, covering it with her own as she worked it down inside her panties. "Don't move your hand," she snapped, as Claire tried in vain to pull her fingers away. "Or else. Ya understand." Claire nodded weakly. She asked herself what choice did she have? And yet, it was impossible to deny that there was something undeniably thrilling about touching another woman's sex. Especially under duress. "Can ya feel how wet I am, Jessie?" Monika asked. Claire nodded again. The woman was dripping. Because of what she'd watched on her monitors? Or could it be the arousal of the moment? Then it hit her that the guard had called her Jessie. That meant she had definitely listened to her conversation with Laura. Maybe that was a way of coping with the situation? Play the part? Take on the role of the actress? What was her name again? Jessie ... Palmer? "Do exactly what my hand tells ya to do," Monika told her, the words coming out in short breathy gasps. Her dark hand was moving on Claire's now, forcing her fingers to caress her sex. Her hips were moving in a gentle backwards and forwards rhythm and her breathing was a tad heavier. Then she was curling her hand, coercing the reporter to do the same, lining up two of Claire's fingers and pushing them inside her. "Oh fuck ... that feels good. Ya want this, ya little white bitch, I know ya do." No. No, no she didn't. It was the last thing that Claire wanted. And yet there was no doubt about it. The sublime feeling of Monika's strong internal muscles as they clenched around her fingers was unbelievably erotic. "Look into my eyes," Monika told her, gripping the back of Claire's long hair with her free hand. She roughly tugged her head around as she began to move her hips faster on the reporter's fingers. "Look into my eyes..." As Claire obeyed, the aroused look on the guard's face was another unexpected thrill. Her eyes were narrowed. Her half-open lips were curled and her breath was definitely coming faster. Was she going to cum? That thought set off a bewildering series of electric-type tingles between her own thighs. Monika had moved her own hand now, still holding Claire's wrist but allowing her captive's fingers unencumbered access to masturbate her. Claire thought about stopping, pulling away, but what was the use? Monika would only force her hand back again. Moreover, as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of taking the guard to an orgasm was beginning to overwhelm her senses. She curled her fingers inside the woman's dripping wet black sex, moving them faster and meeting every forward pump of Monika's hips with a thrust of her hand. From the changing expression on the guard's face, it was clear she was close. Very close. Her eyes had nearly closed. Her tongue was flicking across her thick lips. Heated moans were escaping her mouth, and her hips were thrusting back and forward like pistons. "Oh shit ... oh shit..." Claire felt the woman's insides grip her fingers as her climax suddenly consumed her. Monika's whole body had arched back before going rigid and her eyeballs were rolling in their sockets. Claire bit her lip as her own body trembled. Was she cumming, too? Without even touching herself? No, that was impossible. But as amazing as it was, the sensations created by taking this woman to an orgasm felt good. So fucking good. Then suddenly she was free. Monika had let go of her hand and was still panting as the after-shocks reverberated around her tattooed body. She twisted away and grabbed her bag before rushing towards the door without even a backward glance, hearing the cackle of laughter behind her. "Make sure ya come back and see Monika any time," she heard the guard mockingly shout as she made her escape. THE NEXT DAY Daniel Moseley picked up the dirty mug next to him and took a sip of lukewarm coffee while he stared at Claire. It was one of those stares that made her fear the worst. "So, that little nose of yours has sniffed something out?" She wondered if she looked guilty under her editor's appraising gaze. Rumour had it he could read his reporters minds. "Instinct tells me there's something more to this," she said, hoping it was the kind of thing an experienced reporter would say. "Instinct," he repeated, chuckling to himself as he slurped more coffee from his mug. "Fucking instinct..." She'd briefed him on her meeting with Laura—the condensed version, of course. The teenager's masturbation in front of her, her own indiscretion in the ladies room, and her subsequent encounter with Monika would remain her secret forever. Nor had she made him aware that Melissa Rhodes paid Laura for sex. Allegedly. If he got so much as a sniff of that he'd give the investigation to a more experienced reporter. She had to walk the fine line between keeping him interested enough to let her stay with it without disclosing the true nature of the story. And the way to do that was to suggest there may be more to what had happened between Laura and Melissa Rhodes than met the eye. She just needed more time to prove it. For a newspaper, the chance of uncovering anything where a politician was concerned was too good to pass up... "So what does Miss Instincts propose?" he rasped, his tired eyes staring at her over the top of his glasses. Claire's heart pounded faster. The question suggested he was going to let her stay with the story. For the time being anyway. "I'll speak to the guy whose number Laura gave me," she enthusiastically said. "Leroy. See what comes of that." "And then?" Claire hesitated. She didn't have a next step. Or did she? "Maybe get an interview with Melissa Rhodes," she suggested, carefully watching Moseley's eyes to gauge his reaction. "I could mention Laura and see what sort of response I get." The editor laughed out loud and then pointed his gnarled finger at her again. "You don't fucking go near Melissa Rhodes," he snapped. "Geez, you think I'd let a cub reporter loose on her? Follow up your lead, see what you come up with, and then come back and talk to me. Then we'll decide if there's a next step." ---------- Making contact with Leroy hadn't been easy. Claire had telephoned him several times and left a couple of messages before he'd unexpectedly returned her call. "Tonight," he'd simply said. "Come to the Fat Pussycat club in West London. Ten o'clock. I'll give ya half an hour." So here she was, nervously entering the nightclub and wondering what she was letting herself in for. It had occurred to her on the way there that that Leroy hadn't even asked why she was interested in meeting him. The only conclusion was that he'd spoken to Laura, or got a message from her. Why else would he be so willing to meet? But on the other hand, she'd asked for Claire to keep her name out of it. It was another fine line she was treading. She knew nothing about the guy; except that Laura had told her he 'knows everything' and 'looks after the girls'. What exactly did that mean? She'd already worked out that the Olivia woman must be running a prostitution ring, and that meant she was entering dangerous territory. But how could she not follow up something as potentially sensational as this? Laura had said it was up to her to get him to talk. 'My advice is to wear something sexy when you meet.' After half a dozen changes of mind, she'd eventually settled on her tight black dress. The only question she asked herself was whether it was too sexy. Right now, she was wishing she'd worn a bra. She asked one of the bartenders to point out 'someone called Leroy' and he gave a weird kind of grin before glancing towards the end of the bar. The African guy watching her was distinguishable by his thick, bushy black hair and he shot Claire an off-centre smile before turning away. Keep your nerve, she told herself as she meekly walked behind him through to the back of the club. She thought they were going to some kind of room, but to her surprise he pushed through an exit door and into a dimly lit courtyard. "My office," he grinned, speaking for the first time. There was a distinct Caribbean lilt to his voice. "We won't be disturbed here." Claire felt another shiver pass through her as she glanced around the tiny area. It was clear he wanted the meeting out of the public eye and that gave her hope that he might have something to tell her. At the same time, she instantly realised how isolated she was... "So, Laura tells me ya want to see Leroy," he said, letting the exit door close behind them with a heavy thump. Claire hesitated. She was supposed to be keeping Laura's name out of this. "What did she say?" she asked. The question was met with a quiet chuckle. "I'm the one who asks the questions, Missy," he told her. "What did she tell ya about me?" "She said that you looked after Olivia's girls," Claire truthfully answered. "That you might tell me something about what's going on." "Goin' on?" he repeated, chuckling a little louder. "We jus' make people's lives a little happier that's all. Ya thinkin' about joinin' the clan?" "Excuse me?" "Ya know," he drawled, his gaze eventually rising from Claire's unfettered tits to her face. "Ya askin' about Olivia's girls so ya either wanna be one, or pay for the use of one. Which is it?" Claire hesitated, wondering what Laura had said about her. The teenager had told her to tell him she was interested in getting in the business. But that was a step too far, wasn't it? "Let's just say I'm interested in all aspects," she non-committedly said, refusing to meet his eyes. Not that it mattered. He seemed to be talking to her tits half the time. Her nipples were prominent through the thin black material and she wished she hadn't dressed so provocatively. "Is that right?" he murmured, the words coming from the corner of his mouth in true gangster style. "A few girls start out that way, testing things out before joinin' the clan. Ya realise that if I do help ya, we do this on my terms, or not at all. This is my territory. Understand?" Claire nodded, feeling a surge of relief flood through her. Whatever his terms were, she would have to find a way of getting Donald Moseley to sign off the payment. That could be difficult, but she wasn't going to back down now. She felt as if she was moving closer to getting what she wanted. "Okay," he slowly said, as if he'd just come to the decision. "So what if Leroy gives you access to one of the other girls. That would help?" Claire nodded eagerly. Was it really going to be this simple? The story was going to make her name. She could feel it in her bones. The African smiled at her enthusiastic reaction and pulled what she thought was a cigarette from his top pocket. But when he lit it, the noxious odour of blueberry headies told her it was anything but. When he took a long rag on the joint, the tip shone bright orange in the semi-dark. "I could do that, Missy," he said, undressing her with his narrow eyes again as he took another drag on the joint. "But ya know, in my work I have to be very careful..." Claire could smell the aroma floating in the air between them. The smell wasn't that unpleasant. "Ya understand I can't put myself in a vulnerable position. I have a lot to lose if ya not what ya say ya are." Shit. She should have known it couldn't be as easy as it seemed. He didn't know her. Why should he trust her? She played the only trump card she had. "I thought that Laura had vouched for me?" His thoughtful smile didn't touch his eyes. "Laura said ya'd prove yaself," he countered, the words coming from the corner of his mouth again. "Ya think ya can do that?" "Prove myself?" Pin pricks of frustration ran across her body. What was he looking for? The only ID she had on her would show she was a journalist and she couldn't show him that. "That's what I said," he drawled. "The thing is, what if ya a cop?" Claire shook her head disdainfully, but she could feel the blush tinge her cheeks. Thank goodness it was semi-dark out there. The idea was absurd, but how could she prove that? "Do I look like a cop?" she asked, speaking more confidently than she felt. "Cops come in all shapes and sizes, Missy," he said, with a shrug. "I've had a few." He'd had a few? What exactly did that mean? "Look, I'm not a cop, Leroy," she repeated, trying to control the heavy beat of her heart. It occurred to me that if she had been a cop, this was probably exactly how she'd have gone about setting him up. She couldn't show him her ID so he had to take her at face value. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay cool. Use her connection with Laura. "Laura knows I'm not with the police," she blurted, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "You have my word that I'm not." He took another drag of the joint before laughing. "Your word, Missy?" he said dismissively. "Ya think someone's word counts for anything around here? And Laura's a good girl, but she's been known to make a few errors of judgment. So how about this..." He plucked the joint from his lips and held it out. "Take a hit." Claire stared at him. She'd never done drugs of any sort in her life and despite the circumstances, wasn't going to start now. "I don't," she said, shaking her head. Leroy's gaze didn't flicker. "Ya misunderstand me," he said, still holding the joint out. "It's not a request." Claire stared at the joint before meeting his eyes again. She didn't do drugs. This wasn't her. "Look—" she began, trying to find the right words. She needed to find a way out, a compromise. But the hard stare Leroy was giving her brooked no argument. "It's simple," he told her, cutting off her protest before it got started. "If ya not a cop, then I need ya to prove it. If ya don't, this conversation is finished." Claire hesitated for a few seconds more and then boldly reached out to take the cigarette from his fingers. She was in danger of compromising every single one of her principles, but if she was to gain access to the information she needed, what choice did she have? "That's it," he told her, taking advantage of the indecision written all over her face. "Show Leroy ya on the level. Take a hit." She closed her eyes as she placed the joint between her lips. If this was what it took, so be it. She could return to her principles tomorrow. But when she took a drag, the acrid smoke filling her lungs sent her into a sudden coughing fit. Leroy just stood there, watching her with an amused grin on his face until she was able to recover a little. "Slowly," he told her, nodding at the joint between her fingers. "Inhale slowly, let it out slowly. Try again." Claire's eyes were watering, but despite her reservations she followed his instructions. Good journalists did what they had to do. Take another drag to prove she wasn't a cop, and then get the fuck out of there. "That's better," he drawled as she exhaled. She gave a sigh of relief as the second drag was much easier than the first. Better, even. A warm feeling was slowly descending, engulfing her mind as well as her body. Leroy grinned at her as he took the joint from her fingers and flicked it into gutter beside them. Her head was hazy. Everything seemed brighter now. "One more thing, Missy," he drawled. "I jus' wanna make sure ya not wired, okay?" Claire nodded slowly but her head was becoming fuzzier by the second. It wasn't easy to think straight. Is that what cannabis did to you? She'd only had a couple of drags. Even as she tried to clear her head, his dark hands were on the shoulder straps of her dress. With a rough tug, he yanked them downwards, exposing her breasts to the cold night air. She gasped as her nipples hardened further. Then his hands were on her, taking each of her breasts in his palms and sampling their shape and firmness as if he was handling two pieces of ripe fruit. "Nice tits," she heard him drawl. "Nice and perky. Real nice..." Part of her knew that she should have objected. He hadn't needed to do that, had he? Surely he could see she wasn't wired? But the feeling in her head was so fluffy. When his thumbs flicked over her erect nipples, she even had to choke back a moan. "Okay..." he quietly said. His voice seemed a long way away and that Caribbean accent sounded even thicker than before. "Ya not wired and ya not a cop. I'll set up a meeting with another one of the girls. But first Leroy wants his payment. Understand?" No. No, she didn't. She hadn't brought much money with her and couldn't pay him. Besides, they hadn't agreed an amount. "Sure ya do, Missy," he soothingly murmured, unfastening the belt of his trousers. "I told ya, this is my territory, and my rules. Always remember that..." ---------- Everything was happening so quickly that Claire didn't have time to think, let alone resist. Leroy's hands were on her shoulders, pushing her downwards before she could fully appreciate what was happening. Before she knew it, she was on her knees, confronted by the most wonderfully large black cock. Jessie Palmer Ch. 01 It was beautiful. Long and thick. And it was growing in front of her eyes. Even as she tried to clear the fuzziness that was circling inside her head, she felt her hand reach out so that she could stretch her fingers around the veiny girth. "That's it, Missy," she heard Leroy's voice command. "Suck it..." His fingers tightened in her hair as he pushed his cock between her lips. She knew she had conflicting thoughts inside her head but couldn't understand why part of her didn't want to do this. He was growing even bigger inside her mouth and she pushed away any unwanted thoughts so that she could swallow as much of his magnificent thickness as she could. "Yeah, like that," he drawled, gently pushing himself in and out of her mouth. Her hands went to his asscheeks, clutching them in her palms as her mouth went after him, anxious to take what was hers. As he grew to his maximum, she felt like she was floating along on a tide of sexual euphoria. Wrapping her fingers as far around the base of she was able, she lapped up one side and then the other before dipping her head to swallow him whole again. "Oh ya, ya dirty bitch..." He gripped her hair more tightly, holding her there while she eased off for a moment so that she could take each of his balls between her lips. His body jerked. Good. He hadn't expected that. When she returned to his thick shaft and deep throated him again, he began to thrust into her mouth. It was as if he needed to send out a clear message as to who was in control. Claire tried to direct his thrusting hips so that she could blow him the way she wanted, but the African wasn't to be denied. It was becoming more and more difficult not to gag as he buried himself further down her throat, but she could sense from his grunts that he was getting close now. Was he trying to hold back? Why? She needed this as much as he did. Her fingers found his balls again, tugging on them as she sucked harder. The sudden action did the trick. His fingertips clawed at her scalp as his body tensed ... and then he was firing into her mouth. Claire's fingers clawed at his ass again, holding him still as she took each burst as best she could. He was releasing so much of his creamy cum between her lips that she had to swallow hard before accepting the next offering. When he had nothing left, she eagerly licked around his spent head, making sure that not even a single drop escaped her lips. Satisfied, she slumped back against the cold brick wall, panting from her exertions and the emotion of it all. When she bashfully looked up, he was grinning down at her. "Ya got real talent," he drawled, tucking his diminishing cock back into his trousers. Claire was sorry to see it disappear. "You and Leroy are goin' to get on real fine..." ---------- It was the next morning, lying in bed, when realization hit her. She had pretty much slept all night, but the effects of the cannabis had remained and the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Except in the dreams she was no longer Claire Taylor, the reporter. She was Jessie Palmer. Actress and porn star... Some of the fuzziness had cleared from her head and the sombre recollection of how Leroy had tricked her had begun to burn brightly in her mind. He'd been too clever for her, feeding her that joint. And then all that bullshit about thinking she was a cop—with one intention in mind. And yet ... despite the cannabis, she had succumbed so willingly. Her fingers slid down between her thighs as the image of his thick cock returned to her mind's eye. She brushed her fingers across her sensitive clit a couple of times before yanking her hand away. She didn't want to cum, not yet, not until she'd thought things through. And yet she was still so aroused. Like most white women, she had always wondered whether the folklore about African men was really true. Now she knew. It was... In her dreams, she hadn't just sucked Leroy's cock. The bushy haired African had turned her around so that he could take her doggie-style against the wall. Her body twisted on the bed. Damn, she could almost cum again from just thinking about it. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd had a quick fuck in an alley outside of a club. But never with a black guy. And never while she was under the influence of drugs. He could have done anything he wanted to her. Why hadn't he? She curled up under the crumpled white sheets as she realised she'd actually asked herself such a ridiculous question, not knowing whether to laugh, cry ... or finger herself again. It took three deep breaths for her to be able to think coherently again. Okay, she had compromised herself by stepping outside her journalistic boundaries, but then she'd done the same with Monika, hadn't she? What was it about this story? It was leading her to places she never expected to go, places that scared her, yes, but places that aroused her too. Just how far was she willing to go to get the story of a lifetime? It was a big question and one she wasn't sure she knew the answer to. Look, what's done was done, she told herself. Forget it. The milk had already been spilled and no-one was likely to discover what had happened. Put it down to experience. She was sure that successful journalists would have done far worse in their search for a story. And what did they say? The end justified the means. She snuggled down between the cream sheets, making herself more comfortable as she thought things through. Okay, what did she have? Laura had told her that Melissa Rhodes paid her for sex. If she was able to confirm that story, the MP was ruined. But there was more. Laura worked for someone called Olivia. To all intents and purposes, that suggested that the woman ran a prostitution ring. There were two stories here and if Claire could expose either one, her career was guaranteed. Then there was that fine line she was treading. If Donald Moseley got wind of either story he'd immediately drag her off the investigation and hand it over to one of his more experienced Journalists. No way. She had to find a way of convincing him to keep her on the case without revealing any of the details she was compiling. Once she had the evidence she needed, he'd have no choice but to let her run with it. The key now was Leroy. Did he have any intention of keeping his side of the bargain? If she could get access to another one of the other girls, she could try to get her to corroborate Laura's story. Leroy. When she thought of him she could see that wild bushy hair of his, the way he spoke out of the side of his mouth, the way his eyes undressed her ... and that long thick black cock. Spreading her legs, she ran her the fingertips of her right hand around her nipples, across her stomach and then finally between her thighs. Planting the soles of her feet firmly on the mattress, she arched her body off the bed as she caressed her fingers along the length of her wet labia and back again. Oh shit. She was going to cum... Jessie Palmer Ch. 02 This story is based on interracial lesbian seduction, reluctance and coercion (although there is a sprinkling of MF sex). The thoughts of a white women being seduced by a black woman is a long held fantasy of mine, but if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on without feeling the need to leave a derogatory comment. ***** "Next time, get here on fuckin' time," Donald Moseley rasped, sitting back in his chair and placing both feet on his desk. There was a hole in the sole of his right shoe but Claire guessed it wasn't the best time to point that out. Besides, she had got there on time. It was going for the coffees he wanted that had made her five minutes late. "So how did it go?" he asked, even before she'd taken her seat. She waited until she sat down before answering, placing her cup of yucky-machine coffee on the floor beside her. She really didn't want to drink that crap. There were two options. The first was to be truthful, tell him that the guy she'd met had tricked her into smoking cannabis, just before she went down on him and gave him a blow job. That his thick black dick had cum in her mouth, and she'd been so 'out of it' that she'd probably have let him fuck her if he'd tried. She went for option two. "I met a guy called Leroy," she began to explain. "He's somehow involved in what's going on..." "And what is going on?" "That's what I'm trying to find out," she continued, picking up the cup by her feet. Maybe she did need a drink after all. "My guess is that the girl I saw at the Young Offenders Institute—Laura—is a prostitute. Leroy is some kind of fixer, or minder. I'm not sure exactly, but—" "Prostitute? You got to be fucking kidding me!" He thrust a half eaten sandwich into his mouth as he spoke and took a drink from his plastic cup at the same time. A nice trick if you could pull it off. Moseley couldn't. Several drips of coffee ran down the front of his crumpled shirt. Claire tried not to react as she watched his thoughtful face. She had his attention now. There was no doubt about that. The question was whether she'd told him too much. She'd known she had to offer him something concrete, but didn't want him pulling her off the story and handing it to anyone else. "You're telling me that Melissa Rhodes employed a prostitute to work for her, without knowing it?" he rasped, spitting crumbs everywhere. "Now that's the sort of headline that's going to sell papers." That isn't even the half of it, Claire thought, crossing her legs as that now-familiar tingle appeared between her legs. According to Laura, Melissa Rhodes wasn't employing her—well, not in a conventional sense. She was fucking her. She sat silently as Moseley threw the empty cup into his waste bin. The remains of his sandwich followed. "How sure are you about this?" he asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't be certain, but my instincts tell me I'm one hundred per cent correct. I just need more time to explore things, verify what I know and build up the picture." "Instincts..." Moseley held his arms out wide. "Whoop-e-doo, she has those fuckin' instincts again." Claire couldn't have felt any smaller but she didn't respond, telling herself that the editor's bark was worse than his bite. Everyone at the paper knew that. He was testing her. Wasn't he? "Okay, let's say those instincts are on the right track," he added, suddenly sitting upright. She gave a huge sigh of relief, which turned into near panic at his next words. "Seems to me you need help with this. I can put—" "No!!" The word came out much more forcefully than she'd intended, but this story was hers and hers alone. "I can't afford for anyone else to get involved and spook them," she reasoned, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice. "Leroy is going to give me the name of another girl, like Laura. Once I've met with her then I might be able to open things up a bit." "Hmmm..." Moseley tapped his off-colour teeth with his fingernails while he thought. It felt like a lifetime before he spoke again. "Okay," he eventually said, with what sounded like a tinge of reluctance in his voice. "Makes sense, but this better not cost me more money. I have a limited budget for this kind of shit. What's this Leroy getting out of giving you the introduction?" Claire hesitated. The only thing Leroy had got out of it so far was a blow job. She wasn't about to mention that, even though Moseley would probably compliment her on her resourcefulness in saving him money if she did. "I won't commit another penny without getting your say-so," she hurriedly answered, avoiding a direct answer. She thought he'd press her again, but he was too busy thinking things through. A lopsided grin had hit his face. "I always thought that Melissa Rhodes was a stuck-up bitch," he murmured, more to himself than her. "If something like this has been going on under her nose, then we're going to sell a lot of newspapers." He turned his full attention back to Claire. "And who knows, we might make a journo of you yet, once we get rid of those fuckin' instincts of yours. Okay, follow it up and report back. Just one more thing..." "Yes?" "Don't get in over your head. Once you have anything solid, I'm going to put Thompson and Baines on the case with you. You're too inexperienced to take this all the way on your own." Yeah, right, Claire thought, nodding obediently. Over her dead body. Thompson was a selfish asshole and Baines was past it. Neither of them were going to get anywhere near this story. She'd make sure of that. ---------- Mission accomplished, Claire told herself as she headed out of Donald Moseley's office. She almost skipped back to her desk. The meeting had gone as well as she could have hoped, even better perhaps. Moseley was no fool. Obtaining his agreement to moving things onto the next stage was quite an achievement. After that, she could begin to write up her copy. Give it to him piece by piece. This was a story that could run and run, and once she had persuaded her editor to publish the first couple of generalized articles, he would be unable to take the story from her when she began to sensationalize each subsequent offering. One step at a time... There was only one problem. She hadn't heard back from Leroy yet. Gaining access to another girl was the only way to corroborate Laura's story. It was imperative that he kept his side of the bargain. Maybe she'd need to give him another blow job? Shit. Had she really thought that? But there was no doubt that the recollection had left her with a constant heat between her thighs. What hot blooded woman hadn't fantasized about being coerced into doing something like that? It was the same when she thought about Monika. As soon as she'd returned home after fingering the black guard, she'd used her favourite vibe so much that she'd eventually worn the batteries out... She glanced around the room as she reached her desk and carefully edged her right hand under her skirt. She'd been in heat ever since her encounter with Laura... Despite last night's masturbation sessions, the need to touch herself was overpowering. She stroked herself through her skimpy thong as she glanced around again. Thank goodness the room was half empty today. The nearest desks were all vacant apart from Baines. And he was facing away from her while he harangued someone over the telephone. Typical Tommy! Could she make it to the washroom? Or should she just finish herself here? She loved sex in public places but she'd never masturbated in the office before. That would be really pushing the boundaries. But just as she felt her arousal build, the melodic ring of her telephone interrupted the moment. The unexpected sound made her jump like a guilty schoolgirl caught stealing sweets. She pulled her hand away and checked her mobile phone. It wasn't a number she recognised. "Claire Taylor," she murmured, as she answered. The Caribbean lilt on the other end made her breath catch. "Claire Taylor," the voice repeated. There was a hint of amusement in the male tone. "And I heard ya liked to go by the name 'Jessie'. Ain't that right?" "Leroy," she gasped. Her heart began to beat so fast it threatened to burst through her chest. He was ringing to give her the contact he'd promised. Thank God for that. This was the chance she needed. "That's right, Missy. The one and only..." Claire's face instantly coloured when she suddenly thought back to their previous encounter and she jerked her head around to make sure there was no way she could be overheard. "You ... you have a contact for me?" she asked. Shit. She shouldn't have used the word 'contact'. That was journalistic speak. Or even the police. Still, she'd already proven she wasn't a cop. Her blush deepened at the thought. "Sure," he said, his sing-song lilt floating down the line. "But I need to see ya in person. Phones are too dangerous and Leroy likes to be careful." Claire's breath caught at the thought of meeting him again. If she wasn't careful, this could get out of hand. "I'm not sure that's a good idea—" she began, but Leroy was way ahead of her and cut her off before she could continue. "If ya want the name, we meet. Starbucks near Trafalgar Square. Half an hour." She gave a heavy sigh as the call ended and glanced around her again, as if every word had been overheard. There was no-one near her, of course. She was just being paranoid, although who could blame her after her experiences so far? Sitting back in her chair, she went through the conversation in her mind again. Leroy had made himself quite clear. If she was to get the contact she wanted then she had no choice other than to meet him again. And she badly needed that name. At least this time she'd have some protection, she told herself. It would be difficult for Leroy to trick her again when they were meeting in a public place. ---------- Claire was just about to enter Starbucks when she heard someone call out her name from behind her. It was Leroy. He was sitting in a large pink Chevrolet parked next to the curb, his elbow resting on the open window. The passenger door was already half-open. "Get in," he told her, when she swung around to face him. Claire hesitated. She was being outthought again, but what could she do? "C'mon, Missy, time is money," he drawled. He revved the engine so hard that people turned around to look at him. And her... "I said, c'mon," he repeated. "Leroy doesn't have all day." Taking a deep breath, Claire ignored the stares and hurried to the garish-coloured car, eased herself into the passenger seat. "Where are we going?" she croaked. "Just cruisin' in my other office," he said, nodding around the interior of the car. Everything was covered in faux-pas leather. His grin widened as he placed one dark hand on her bare thigh and put the car into gear with the other. Pulling away from the kerb without bothering to even glance behind him, she heard a screeching of brakes as they moved into the heavy traffic. "Good to see ya again, Missy," he said, running his fingers up and down her soft skin. "So, ya still thinking of turning tricks?" Claire paused as she tried to recall what she'd told him. She hadn't been that specific at their previous meeting, had she? She'd dodged the question when he'd asked it, told him she was interested in all aspects. On the other hand, it was good cover. "Yes," she replied, as confidently as she could. "I just need to understand a little more." Leroy nodded, removing his hand from her thigh as he swung the car around a corner at the last second. The 4x4 he'd just cut up blared its horn at him but it was clear he couldn't have cared less. Reaching across the divide between them, he draped one arm over Claire's shoulder and pulled her closer. His hand found her breast and when his fingertips lightly grazed the nipple pushing through her blouse, she had to choke back a groan. "I got a sista lined up to show ya the ropes," he continued, scratching at her nipple with his long nail. "If ya need convincing, Precious is just the girl." Claire nodded, torn between her need for information and the casual way he was unfastening a couple of buttons on her blouse with the fingers of one hand. Once they were undone, he pushed his hand inside and cupped her breast through her flimsy bra. "Ya can meet her tonight," he continued, squeezing her flesh in his large palm. "There's a club in Soho. It's called the Hump and Grind club. Be there around eleven." "Okay," Claire grunted, somehow forcing the word out. It felt like her nipple was directly connected to her clit and all of a sudden her mouth was dry. "How do I find her?" she gasped. "Ya won't need to. Precious will find you." His laugh was almost scary. What did that mean? Before she could ask the question, he jammed his foot on the brake when it became apparent he couldn't force his way through the traffic light that suddenly confronted them. "Ya owe me," he suddenly told her. "Understand?" She nodded, thinking he was marking up the debt for the future, but he surprised her by taking her hand and placing it on his crotch. Oh my God, he was hard underneath those jeans. She could almost feel him throbbing under her fingers. "Time to show ya appreciation," he grunted, leaving her hand there while he began to unfasten the top button of his jeans. It only took him a couple of seconds to free himself, even before Claire fully understood what he had in mind. She stared in apprehension and awe at his exposed black dick for a couple of seconds before the lights went on in her head. Then he was curling a hand around her neck and yanking her face down. She should have resisted. They were at traffic lights in the middle of the High Street, after all, and he wanted her to suck him. No, he expected her to suck him. But before she could even take a breath he was pushing his thick dick between her open lips and she was adjusting her position to take his hard shaft all the way into her mouth. The feeling was every bit as compelling as that first illicit time. Except that she'd been high then. Right now she had no excuse. Or did she? She could tell herself she had no choice. If she refused she would have blown her cover. And she needed the meeting with Precious if she was to follow this story all the way. Yet the growing dampness between her thighs as she willingly took more and more of his veiny black flesh between her lips told her that she was enjoying this more than she should... Suddenly she heard the sound of a horn at full blast, and then another. The lights had changed to green and Leroy wasn't moving. She panicked and tried to sit up, but the hand on the back of her head kept her firmly in position. "Asshole," she heard him shout out of the window. Seconds later, he had put the car into gear and revved away from the lights so fast he left the other traffic in his wake. "Never had a white girl so eager to suck black cock," he grunted happily as she found herself deep-throating him. "Leroy and you are gonna get on just fine together, Missy..." ---------- Claire was still hot and flustered when she reached the nightclub. The feeling of Leroy's thick girth in her mouth still lingered. So did the salty aftertaste of his cum. Her second encounter with the African pimp had been every bit as hot as the first, and this time she had no excuse for the wholehearted way she had given him what he wanted. What he expected. He was so arrogant that he'd just taken it for granted that she was going to blow him again. And she had. Willingly. Eagerly. Despite herself, there was something about this sort of casual sex that had lit a fire inside her. So did the fact that Leroy was black. She'd never had interracial fantasies before, had she? But now the colour difference was beginning to pre-occupy her thoughts. The contrast between her white skin and his black flesh had excited her in a way she could never have expected. Still, she had to be careful not to lose her focus. Being drawn into Leroy's activities would not only adversely impact her ability to investigate the story, it would also compromise her journalistic impartiality to such an extent it could cost her career. Moseley would throw her out on her ear... It was essential she steered clear of any more compromising situations and kept a clear mind. The facts were that Melissa Rhodes—the highly esteemed local Member of Parliament—paid Laura for sex. Laura worked for someone called Olivia, who presumably headed up the operation. And Leroy worked for Olivia. What she had to do now was to put some flesh on the bones. If Precious was able to corroborate Laura's story, she would be in a position to discredit Melissa Rhodes and blow the lesbian prostitution ring wide open. Her reputation as a journalist would be made. Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at the name emblazoned in red on the signage above her. It simply said Hump and Grind. She'd done her homework since meeting Leroy and discovered that the establishment was a lesbian nightclub. Could this be where Melissa Rhodes had first met Laura? Maybe not. Such a well known Member of Parliament couldn't be seen to frequent such places, after all. And yet she had the feeling that this nightclub held the answers to some of the associated questions bouncing around in her head. Hopefully the woman she was there to meet—Precious—would provide some of the answers. ---------- The heavy beat of the music drummed in Claire's ears as soon as she walked through the nightclub door. The sound brought about an immediate increase in her pulse rate and, when her eyes quickly became accustomed to the flashing lights inside, she felt her heart begin to throb inside her chest. The place was pretty much full of women ranging from the femme of femmes to the outrageously butch. Most were black except for a few white women scattered around. It didn't take long to realise that most of the white women were on display—there to be admired and coveted by the other club-goers, but not to be touched without the permission of their black 'partners'. There were a few other young white women scattered around the floor—groups of two or three teenagers together—who presumably had either strayed into the club by mistake, or perhaps as an alcohol fuelled dare. Perhaps they had wanted to experience something a little different in their youthful enthusiasm, show off their hot white bodies and tease their black counterparts before leaving? If so, they had under-estimated their audience. The copious amounts of alcohol available were ridiculously cheap for one reason and one reason only. It encouraged an over-indulgence without even realizing it. Add in the way the heavy beat of the music stimulated the already heady atmosphere, combined with the scent of perfume that hung in the air, and the inebriated white girls were soon abandoning their inhibitions on the dance floor. Some of their unconstrained moves on the dance floor made even Claire blush. And with a practiced ease born out of many such nights, they were being subtly separated from one another and picked off by the more experienced black women dancing around them. Claire tried to make herself as invisible as possible as she headed towards the bar, but even so it felt like every eye in the place was sizing her up. How could a lone white girl entering a black lesbian club expect to remain inconspicuous? She bought a single drink and stayed at the back of the bar area. It was darker there and out of the way of the main crowd. Leroy had given her very little to go on other than that Precious would find her. That left her at a serious disadvantage and it quickly became clear why. Jessie Palmer Ch. 02 One woman after another strolled across to her and although she fended them off—temporarily?—she knew it was only a matter of time before one of them wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Then what? ---------- The restrooms were a temporary haven. Leroy had told Claire to be at the club by eleven but after an hour there was still no sign of Precious. And the attention she was attracting from one dyke after another was becoming impossible to fend off. It felt as if she had no option other than to cut her losses and get out of there, even though crossing a dance floor full of sexed-up black women wasn't going to be easy. But just as she was turning to leave, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Fuck! The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone in the restrooms by one or more of the aggressive women in the club. Aware of the vulnerable position she found herself in, she took a quick step back and frantically glanced around her. There was just enough time to secrete herself in the nearest stall and pull the door closed before someone entered the room. The voice that spoke was thick and husky. It was also familiar. "This way, girls..." The tiny space between the door and the frame allowed Claire to confirm her suspicions. The woman leading the way was dressed differently to the last time they'd met, but she was unmistakable. Her short-cropped black hair, coloured tattoos on each lower arm and well muscled body confirmed it was Monika, the guard from the Young Offenders Institute. Was her presence simply a coincidence, or was she somehow also connected to Olivia in some way? Angling her head, she gained a wider view and saw that Monika was accompanied by two teenage white girls, both severely intoxicated. They were so drunk they struggled to place one foot in front of the other and another black woman—older and plumper—had an arm around each of the girl's waists to keep them upright. Behind them, a third black woman had followed them into the room, crossing her arms over her ample chest as she leant back against the outer door. Keeping guard? Claire's heart began to thump again. If the woman decided to check the stalls, she was done for. But she didn't. She was too engrossed in watching Monika and her plump friend as they pulled the drunken teenagers into a heated kiss. The older dyke pressed the blonde girl against the far wall as she mauled her lips, her hands mashing the girl's apple-sized breasts through her tiny, camisole top. Monika, on the other hand, had already turned the redhead towards the far wall, placing the girl's hands at shoulder height on the tiled wall infront of her. Standing behind her, she nudged the girl's legs apart, as if she were about to be frisked. But this was a frisk of a different kind... One hand reached around the girl to mash her ripe breasts while the other pulled the back of her blue dress up to her waist. The tiny string of her thong was barely apparent between her tight young asscheeks and Monika ripped it away in one smooth motion. A gasp escaped the redhead's lips as the guard's hand slid under her, and when it found its destination the helpless white thighs parted even further as Monika's fingers expertly began to do their work. The other woman was every bit as dominating with the young blonde. The gasping teenager had her hands up and around the black woman's shoulders while the older woman's hand had unerringly found its way inside her lacy boy shorts and was roughly fingering her. Claire knew she should have been appalled at the unfolding scene, and yet the dampness between her thighs confirmed her own rising state of arousal. Suddenly, an unexpected sound from the other end of the room made her start. Had the woman standing guard noticed her in the stall? Panicking, she twisted her head to peer through the gap in the opposite direction, only to find the third woman with her legs spread wide apart and her forearm pumping back and forward under her short skirt. It seemed she was every bit as entranced by the unfolding action in front of her as Claire. It didn't take long for either of the teenagers to reach orgasm, but neither Monika nor her friend was letting up. If anything they increased the tempo, taking their prizes from one climax to the next as if they were finger-fucking any resistance right out of them. It was all too much for Claire. Resting her head back against the thin wall of the stall, she closed her eyes to fight off the dizziness threatening to engulf her. Almost of its own volition, her right hand strayed down to her jeans, pausing momentarily before flicking open the button and then dragging down her zip. She bit down on her lower lip, terrified of making any sort of noise that would give her presence away, but the feeling of relief as she slid her fingers down inside her thong was immeasurable. Squeezing open her eyes again, she saw that the scene had quickly moved on. Monika was sitting up on the countertop now, the soles of her feet firmly planted on the marbled top. She wasn't wearing any panties and her fingers were in the girl's hair, pulling her pretty face to her waiting black pussy. The older woman, meanwhile, was resting back against the wall with the hem of her yellow skirt yanked up to her waist. Like Monika, she was devoid of underwear and the kneeling redhead was already eagerly licking at her hairy and very wet sex. Claire gasped for air, like a goldfish out of water. Two black women taking advantage of drunken white teenagers like this was wrong, so wrong, but the air was riddled with sexual tension and it was impossible not to be caught up in the illicit action. The heated sounds of feminine pleasure that filled the room threatened to drown her mind, so much so that she had to squeeze her eyes shut again and pull her fingers away from her own sex to control the feeling. Monika was talking to the blonde in much the same way she had when she'd forced Claire to finger her. And when she began to hump her wet pussy into the girl's juice-covered face, Claire felt her own climax approach, even though she was no longer touching herself. How could that be? She bit down on her bottom lip in a desperate attempt to contain the growing tide, but the wanton sexual way Monika was using the blonde had her on the precipice. What if the guard had done that to her in the observation room? The wicked thought was too much for Claire, and as soon as her fingers found her clit again her orgasm was on her like a freight train. A second followed almost as soon as the first had subsided. That was impossible. Yet it was happening. Her body flinched at each aftershock and she lost track of time as she tried to keep herself upright. Eventually, when her breathing began to return to normal, she glanced through the gap just in time to see the black women leading their prizes from the room. To where? THE NEXT DAY It was early morning and Claire had found it difficult to sleep last night. Part of her—the professional side—had been working on her article in her head. Even if she hadn't met Precious at the club, she had gained enough evidence to shape a story that would satisfy Moseley. Black women in nightclubs, preying on unsuspecting teenage white girls... Sensationalism perhaps, but that's what sold newspapers. But that wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough. She would get a little mileage from it, they would sell a few extra papers, but that was all. It was imperative to meet up with the girl Leroy had directed her to—Precious—if she was to have a chance of getting to the heart of the real story. Right now, the girl was her only chance of corroborating the information Laura had provided. Melissa Rhodes was the key, Claire was sure of that, and by exposing the high-profile Member of Parliament's extra-curricular activities—paying for interracial lesbian sex—she would gain the journalistic recognition she craved. That wasn't all. If her instincts were right, Melissa Rhodes could be just the tip of the iceberg. If this was a lesbian prostitution ring as she suspected, then other high-profile women could be involved. To add to the intrigue, was Monika's re-appearance last night just coincidence? Or was there something more sinister afoot? Was she and her older friend simply preying on the drunken white teenagers for their evening's entertainment? Or was there more to the encounter? Were they being groomed? And yet ... it wasn't just Claire's professional side that had been affected by the scene in the restrooms. To her shame, she had stood helplessly by while the two inebriated teenagers were seduced by a couple of black dykes old enough to be their mothers. Okay, what else could she have done? Not a lot, maybe, but on the other hand she hadn't just watched. She had actually masturbated while the seduction had taken place—and then again, twice last night, while she'd lain in bed recalling the illicit scene. Imagining it was her who had been the black women's plaything. After all, Monika had taken advantage of her in the observation room. Making her finger her. Claire had masturbated a few times since then, replaying the way the black guard had so easily bent her to her will. Fuck ... this was all getting out of hand... She swallowed hard and jerked her head in the direction of the bedside clock. Seven o'clock. As tired as she was from her fitful night's sleep, she needed to rid herself of the unwanted thoughts and get ready for work. Pushing her weary body out of the bed, she headed for the bathroom. Inside seconds she was in the shower, allowing the cascading water to drench her hair, face and body. The coconut body wash felt good on her skin, but however much it might clean her flesh, it couldn't erase the images behind her closed eyes. She gave in to them again—gave in to Monika, her older friend, to Leroy—and allowed her fingers to creep down into the juncture between her legs. When they brushed across her swollen clit, it throbbed in response. Yanking the showerhead from its perch, she leant back against the cool tile wall and directed the hard spray directly across her aching sex. The orgasm that was forming deep inside her suddenly burst free and she arched her hips to better feel the intense rush as it slammed through both her body and mind. She'd never been with a black man, apart from her two encounters with Leroy. She'd never been with a woman at all, let alone a black woman. So why was she feeling this way? What the fuck was wrong with her? She slowly slumped downwards, scraping her back against the wet tiles behind her until her body reached the tiled shower floor. Whatever the answer was, she had to pull herself together. But that was easier said than done. ---------- "Sorry about last night, honey." The words sounded apologetic but the tone didn't come over that way. "Only I was with a client who decided at the last minute she wanted to keep me for the night. Melissa is awfully needy when you press her buttons." A soft laugh accompanied the explanation. "Melissa?" Claire asked, her senses on alert at the sound of the name. "Melissa Rhodes?" Soft laughter floated down the line again. "Now you should know better than to ask questions like that, honey." Claire hesitated and furtively glanced around the office. It was busier today, with the usual sound of activity coming from all around her and Tommy Baines' voice standing out above the hubbub, arguing with someone from Accounts a few desks away from her. She couldn't be overheard. Precious's call had taken her by surprise. She had been sipping on a cup of lukewarm coffee at her desk, wondering what to tell Donald Moseley tomorrow on the editor's return to the office, when her phone had rung. "Leroy is pissed with me for standing you up," Precious continued. "And you know what Leroy is like. Nobody wants to get on his bad side. So he said we should meet up today." "Sure," Claire said, trying to keep the eagerness out of her tone. It was like being offered a lifeline. "What works best for you?" "Tonight. Say, ten o'clock. The XS club in Soho. See you there, Jessie." Claire stared at the phone as she ended the call. Jessie. Precious had called her Jessie. ---------- Claire sat quietly in the taxi as it pulled up across the one-way road opposite the innocuous looking club. A thin drizzle was threatening to turn into heavy rain and she quickly paid the driver, took three deep breaths, and then exited the cab and hurried across the busy road. Scaling the half a dozen steps to the club, her mind was focused on the task in hand. If she played this right, Precious could confirm all of her suspicions. She could have a rough draft of the exposé ready for Moseley when he got back to the office sometime tomorrow. Surprisingly, her anticipation at the meeting also included a tinge of excitement. Every step she'd taken so far had contained an unexpected sexual dimension—Laura, Monika, Leroy, the Hump and Grind club. She couldn't help but wonder if this one would be any different and her mind had started to wander as she recalled each of those previous encounters. So much so that it had been an effort to keep both hands on the steering wheel... The lights were low as she tentatively entered the club. It was inhabited exclusively by women—mainly black—and she cursed herself for not checking it out before she arrived. "Lookin' for Precious?" an attractive girl asked from the side. She was standing beside the small reception desk just inside the main room, placed there to make sure that the only entrants were members or their guests. "Yes," Claire responded, glancing at the young African girl. She was tall and thin, like a model from the sixties, and wore a skintight black jumper with black jeans that looked like they'd been sprayed on. "She's over there," the girl said, nodding towards the far side of the room. A young woman in her early twenties, presumably Precious, was standing next to the wall, talking to another black girl with a wild Afro hairstyle. Claire nodded her thanks and took a deep breath before heading across towards them. Precious looked up at her as she approached. "Hey," she said with an infectious grin. "Right on time, honey. You must be Jessie." Claire's breath caught. She'd called her Jessie again. Both Laura and Monika had used that name, because of her close resemblance to Jessie Palmer, the young porn star. So had Leroy, or had he? If not, Precious must have spoken to one or both of the women, which meant she knew more than Claire had expected. "This is Sindee," Precious added, slipping an arm around her friend's waist and pulling her closer to her. Claire smiled at the girl. Her dark eyes looked as wild as her Afro hairstyle and she was pretty without being glamorous. But even in the overly tight, low cut sleeveless cream blouse and low-rise pair of skinny jeans, it was clear she had an hourglass body. The way Sindee's smouldering eyes flicked across her body gave Claire goosebumps and when the girl's gaze eventually met hers, she nodded as if in approval. "I was tellin' Sindee you were thinkin' of becoming one of Leroy's girls," Precious drawled, resting her face against the side of her friend's head. "I can guarantee that some of our clients are goin' to love you, honey." Claire felt her cheeks go pink, and when Sindee turned her head and ran her tongue up the full length of Precious's slender neck, the colour turned into a full-scale blush. Precious laughed at her reaction. "Don't you worry, honey, all the girls are very friendly with each other here. It's like a common bond. And Sindee is very obliging." She turned to her friend and winked at her. "Why don't you show Jessie here those fabulous assets of yours, girl?" Sindee didn't hesitate. Her hands went for the bottom of her sleeveless blouse and yanked it up and over her large tits, just as Laura had done in the interview room. They were pretty much perfect—full, round and high, with her chocolate-coloured nipples melding naturally with her dark skin. Before Claire had time to react, Precious took hold of her right hand and placed it on Sindee's left breast. "Don't be shy," she murmured persuasively. "Like I said, anything goes between the girls here." Claire felt her heart pitter-patter at the feel of the wonderfully soft flesh in her hand. Sindee's nipples were so hard. She was unable to stop herself from gently squeezing the dark flesh before suddenly pulling her hand away like a guilty schoolgirl. Precious laughed again as Sindee pulled her top back into place. "Okay, honey," she told her friend, patting her ass. "You trot off and amuse yourself. Jessie 'n me have some talkin' to do." ---------- "So," Precious said, finishing her drink and then ordering yet another round. "How does all that sound?" Claire blinked twice in an attempt to clear her head. It was well after midnight and she'd lost count of the cocktails they'd consumed between them. Her head was fuzzy, she was almost slurring her words and one more drink could well tip her over the edge. Still, tonight had been worthwhile. Precious had shown no reservations in explaining exactly what was going on. It was exactly as Claire had worked out, but now she had verified confirmation. A woman called Olivia ran a team of young girls—both black and white—who Precious had described as 'escorts' but then made clear were paid to have sex with female clients. Leroy was her right hand man, there to help with recruitment but essentially to make sure that everything ran smoothly. "It ... sounds ... good," Claire answered, blinking her eyes again as she tried to remember the question. Precious's hand was resting high up on her thigh and she wondered how and when it had got there. The contrast in colour between the young woman's stroking fingers and her own milky-white skin looked surprisingly exotic. "So let me think..." she said, brushing a hand through her long hair. It wasn't easy to mull over things when she was in this state. Precious had explained all about her life as an 'escort', but that would only take the story so far. Claire still had no real idea who this Olivia woman was, and Precious had been careful to avoid mentioning names when she talked of their clients. "Think away, Jessie, honey," Precious chuckled. She pushed one of the two cocktails that had just arrived at their table across to the reporter. Claire reached for the glass but then placed it back down on the table without taking a sip. She might be close to being inebriated, but she was still sufficiently aware that having another drink was a bad idea. Instead, she shuffled on her chair and tried to regain her train of thought. She wanted to cross her legs but Precious's hand remained on her thigh and the very tips of her fingertips were moving in almost imperceptible circles, just grazing her skin. It felt reassuring and sensual at the same time. "Do you know someone called Monika?" she suddenly asked, as the thought came into her mind. Precious shrugged her shoulders. "Might do. Why do you ask, honey?" "I saw her and another woman last night..." Claire had to pause to keep her thoughts on track. "They were with a couple of white girls in the restrooms." This time Precious laughed out loud. "Oh, you mean at the club. We pick up a few new recruits from there." "Recruits?" "Sure. Monika and Frankie soften them up and after a couple of night's attention they find themselves fully fledged members of our fraternity." Claire picked up her drink, trying to make sense of the answer. Fraternity? What did that mean? She swirled the dark liquid in its martini glass, trying to focus on what Precious was saying, rather than the sensations the fingers on her bare thigh were creating. Jessie Palmer Ch. 02 "But what if they don't want..." she blurted, and then stopped as she thought again. Precious laughed softly and sat back, casually swinging one foot back and forward. Her black shoe dangled sexily from her toes as she explained. "Believe me, Jessie, once they've been trained they're as eager as can be. And if not, well, a few compromising photographs make sure there's never usually a problem with that side of things." She paused long enough to let the implication sink in, while Claire just stared at her, trying to make sense of the words. Compromising photographs? Was she hearing this right? That was blackmail, wasn't it? And what did Precious mean by 'trained'? Damn, her head was so fuzzy. "I don't quite understand—" she muttered. "That's okay," Precious told her reassuringly. "It's late and we can chat again tomorrow. You look tired, honey, so why don't you finish that drink and we'll get you home." Yes, Claire thought, following the young woman's lead by raising her glass to her lips and swallowing the cocktail in one clumsy gulp. They could talk again tomorrow. Right now, her head was getting fuzzier by the second and she needed to get home to her bed. ---------- Claire rested her head back against the seat in the rear of the taxi and closed her eyes. Precious had been so thoughtful, insisting on them sharing a cab. Her head was spinning ... too much alcohol ... way too much alcohol. It must be close to one in the morning and the streets were brim full with drunken party-goers, stumbling either onto the next club or trying to waive a hand to encourage a passing taxi to take them home. If Precious hadn't helped her find a cab, she could be one of them. The young woman was sitting close to her in the back of the cab, so close that Claire could feel her body heat. "You okay, Jessie?" she heard Precious softly ask in her ear. Was she mistaken, or had she felt the girl's tongue flick across her earlobe as she'd asked the question. It was pierced. No, there it was again—gently flicking around her ear. And Precious's hand was on her thigh, gently scraping her long red fingernails across her skin. Claire turned her head to look at her, even though it felt so heavy. She smiled and nodded. It felt like too much trouble to speak. And the sensations created by the hot breath against her cheek, tongue flicking across her ear and fingernails scratching at her thigh were spreading through her body and pooling together between her thighs. Precious was even more attractive than she'd previously thought. With her slender toned body, dark eyes and high cheekbones, she could have passed as a model, not a ... a ... well, an escort. And those full red lips looked so—well, they looked so kissable. And the sexual intensity in the gaze that Precious had fixed on her only increased the heat between her legs. "You're sure?" the girl asked. Claire nodded again. That tongue was working its way around the inside of her earlobe now, the cold piercing erotically rubbing against her flesh. And the caressing fingers were scraping higher up her thigh, causing goosebumps to break out on her skin. "Only, I've seen that look before, honey." Claire stared back, and blinked as she tried to focus. When she tried to speak, the words were slurred, unintelligible. Shit. That last drink had pushed her over the edge. Her glance dropped into Precious's cleavage. There were a couple of extra buttons undone, weren't there, and even in the dim light in the back of the taxi she could clearly see the girl's lacy black bra. Her breasts were spilling over the top. When her eyes slowly drew upwards into Precious's again, the young woman smiled. "That look," she whispered, leaning closer and planting a couple of feather-light kisses along Claire's exposed neck. "The one that says you need to get laid." Claire blinked again. Yes, it was true. Her whole body was alive with arousal. It didn't help that Precious's fingers had pushed under the hem of her dress. She had somehow widened her legs, inviting them in. How had that happened? She rested her head back against the seat and tried to focus. Holding on to any sort of clarity was just so difficult when her head was this fuzzy. Was Precious coming on to her? She closed her eyes in an effort to compose herself but that just increased the intensity of the feelings inside her. The fingers were between her legs now. When they gently brushed against her black thong, Claire could hear her own breath coming out in panted gasps. Lips softly brushed against hers. Once. Twice. "Want to kiss me, honey?" the soft voice asked. She forced her eyes open to look at the young woman but all she saw was those thick red lips next to hers. Closing them again—if she couldn't see what was happening, then she couldn't blame herself—she gave in to the need burning inside her and allowed the lips to cover hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, and in the darkness behind her closed eyelids it seemed as if every sense was heightened. When the probing fingers pushed the material of thong aside she widened her legs, inviting them in. She was so wet. So needy. Two fingertips stroked her labia and she groaned. When they twisted and pushed their way inside, her body shuddered and she let out a long moan. "Like I said earlier, anything goes between the girls in the business," a wicked voice whispered in her ear. "Want me to make you cum?" Claire nodded. Fuck, yes. Her chest had begun to rise and fall as if she was about to hyperventilate and she so needed the relief that only an orgasm would bring. The fingers inside her were moving with such a deliciously teasing slowness that she moaned out loud again. And again. She could hear herself. She couldn't stop moaning. It suddenly occurred to her that the noise would have alerted the cab driver and he was probably watching in his driving mirror. But that only added fuel to the fire. She had masturbated in the restrooms when she'd watched Monika and her black friend seduce two white teenagers. Was the driver wanking while he watched Precious take advantage of her? The thought was suddenly too much. So was the sensation of the light kisses along her neck and the way the fingers were roughly plunging inside her. She shrieked as the climax overtook her and for those few sublime moments if felt as if it was never going to stop. When she eventually began to come down from the intensity of her orgasm, the cab had stopped. "You're home," she heard a voice purr softly. When her drowsy gaze flickered towards Precious again, she saw that the girl had raised her juice covered black fingers to her thick red lips. She lewdly sucked on them, one after the other, as Claire watched. "I'll call you tomorrow, honey," she eventually said, lewdly lapping at the last finger. "We've got a lot more to talk about." Jessie Palmer Ch. 03 This story is based on interracial lesbian seduction, reluctance and coercion (although there is a sprinkling of MF sex). The thoughts of a white women being seduced by a black woman is a long held fantasy of mine, but if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on without feeling the need to leave a derogatory comment. ***** Claire padded out of the small en-suite shower room into her bedroom and unwrapped the fluffy white towel from her slender body as she crossed towards the floor-length mirror in the far corner of the room. She smiled coyly to herself as she checked her naked reflection. Her body was in the best shape of her life. Her hard nipples sat beautifully high on her breasts and her flat stomach was actually showing the beginnings of a six-pack. All those hours spent in the gym were definitely paying off. Her hands went to her head, pulling her long hair upwards and then allowing it to cascade back down onto her bare shoulders. She had subtly changed her hairstyle, as well as several other aspects of her appearance, so that she better resembled Jessie Palmer. It was Laura who had originally remarked on the similarity between her and the young porn star, and now it would be difficult to tell them apart. Precious had also referred to her as Jessie when they'd met a couple of days ago and, strangely, Claire was becoming to enjoy being called that name. Precious! Even thinking the name made her shiver. This was the girl who held Claire's future in her hands. If she could get the girl to verify that Melissa Rhodes was one of Laura's clients, the story would be elevated to such a level that Claire's reputation as an investigative journalist would be made. Claire had spent the last forty-eight hours drafting out her story and, even without any reference to Melissa Rhodes or any other individual for that matter, it was dynamite. Any story referring to interracial lesbian prostitution would 'sell papers', to use her editor's favourite phrase, and Claire could easily turn her first draft into a series of three or maybe four articles with a bit of padding. Yet it could be so much more. She was determined to obtain the information she needed when she met Precious again tonight but ... that wasn't the only reason she was feeling so excited about meeting up with the girl again. No sooner had Precious told her that the 'escort' girls 'looked after' each other, she had emphasised the fact by taking advantage of Claire's drunken state by fingering the reporter in the back of the taxi cab. The orgasm had been so explosive that Claire couldn't even think about the moment without touching herself again—with the inevitable results each time. In fact, for a brief second she thought of grabbing her vibe and doing herself again there and then... But no, she knew she had to try and control herself. The sexual machinations associated with the investigation seemed to have her in a permanent state of heat and if she wasn't careful she would be in danger of compromising both herself and her story. And yet that was easier said than done. It felt as if the need that had been released inside her was slowly turning into a craving. Monika, Leroy and Precious had all taken advantage of her in their separate ways. Why was that such a turn-on for her? And why did she find the contrast in colour between her milky-white flesh and their black skin so intoxicating. She'd even found herself checking out some of the black members of staff in the office yesterday. Dolores was in her fifties, but the curvy canteen manager had always paid special attention to Claire whenever she'd see her. She'd thought it was innocuous, but now she was wondering if there was more to her interest than met the eye. Then there was Bobby, one of the security guards. He clearly had a muscular body under his uniform. She had already begun to wonder if his dick be as big as Leroy's. As for Gloria, the young Brazilian girl who worked on the accounts team, the girl simply had a body to die for. All the guys in that department had tried it on with her, but the rumours were that the teenager preferred the opposite sex. And there was something else. If she closed her eyes, Claire could still see the two white teenagers being coerced into sex in the nightclub restrooms. An image of the blonde girl remained imprinted on her mind, on her knees infront of Monika and lapping at her pussy like an addict needing her fix. Her black pussy... She turned back to the mirror again, her eyes drifting down to her thin black landing strip. She'd often thought of going bare completely but kinda liked the effect she'd created. Still, Jessie Palmer was bare down there. And Monika had been clean-shaven, too. She momentarily wondered if Precious would be bare when the buzz of her mobile phone brought her back to the present. A shiver ran through her when she checked the message. Precious was changing the arrangements for their meeting tonight. She wanted Claire to meet her at her flat... ---------- Finding a parking place in London at this time of night was rare but there it was, in a side street close to the address Precious had given her. Claire's hands were shaking as she fed the meter, and she glanced in both directions before nervously making her way across the road towards the apartment block. She could feel her heart beat heavily in her chest in anticipation of where the meeting might lead, and had to remind herself she was here for a reason. The success of her story depended on her getting Precious to talk in more detail about the 'escort' business and she needed to forget anything else. Just focus on the task in hand. The pause before she entered the building lasted only a few seconds. Then she was through the door and heading across to the lift in the near corner of the lobby. Precious's apartment was on the third floor. The doors to the lift opened as soon as she pressed the steel button, as if it had been waiting just for her. It took only a few seconds to reach the floor she wanted and Precious's apartment was halfway along the left hand side. The girl answered the door on Claire's third knock. Precious wore a smile on her face as the door opened, but not much else. Was she was naked underneath the thin purple robe? The pitter-pattering beat of Claire's heart instantly went into overdrive again. "Jessie," she murmured, standing back so that her guest could enter. "Come in." Claire apprehensively walked past her and into a small living area. It was sparsely but remarkably tidy, except for the dildo and harness that sat on a small coffee table in the middle of the room. Claire gave an intake of breath at the sight. "I ... er ... parked nearby," she lamely explained, more for something to say. "It looks like rain. I was thinking we might find a pub or bar nearby and—" The words died in her throat as she turned to face Precious. The girl was casually unfastening the belt of her robe and shrugging the thin garment from her shoulders and onto the floor. Her naked black body was stunning. The question Claire had asked herself earlier in the day was instantly answered. She was clean-shaven. And her bare labial lips were glossy and pink with arousal... Time stood still as Claire's gaze flickered upwards towards those perfectly-formed tits. They were beautifully perky, with chocolate-brown nipples that grew long and hard out of her small areola. To Claire's surprise her nipples were pierced, with small rings that sported a little heart dangling down from each. The hearts swung gently from side to side as Precious began to saunter across the room towards her. "I know the little white girl has been wonderin'," she said, stepping closer. "So I thought I'd get the formalities out of the way first. You like?" Claire nodded, not knowing quite what to say. The girl was just inches away now and she could feel her breathing, smell her perfume. Precious's broad smile suggested she was pleased with the response. "You want?" she asked, holding her arms out wide to display her nakedness in all its glory Claire swallowed hard. What happened in the taxi was one thing. But this was going way too fast for her. And yet she did nothing, just stood frozen to the spot as the girl's head tilted to the side and she was whispering in her ear. "Sure you do." She followed up the words with a kiss, just as they had had done in the taxi cab. Her thick lips were warm and sensual. And she kissed well. Very well. Claire knew she should have objected, tried to control the situation, but instead she did nothing. Just stood there and let Precious kiss her. "I ... I didn't come for this," she managed to belatedly say, but all the strength was gone from her voice. "Sure you did," Precious told her, holding a finger to her lips to silence the protest. Then she replaced it with her mouth again. This time the kiss was longer, more passionate and Precious was pulling her hands to her full tits. The feeling of those heavy breasts in her palms, nipples burning into her palm, removed all the resolve the reporter had. Precious's tongue found her ear as she started to pull Claire's blouse out of her jeans. Her fingers found the skin underneath and from the way her knee was pressing between the reporter's legs, she knew that what was going to happen would be so wrong. She was here for a reason. Not this. Wasn't she? But Precious's hand had unfastened her jeans and her fingers felt heavenly as they slid inside her thong. She gently pushed down on her hand in rhythm to her movements, not knowing whether she was trying to stop her, or help her continue. It didn't matter. The girl was pushing her back against the wall and pulling the jeans down with her as she sunk to her knees. Her fingers dragged the skimpy thong to one side and then ... oh God ... her face dropped onto Claire's wetness. "Precious..." she croaked. "Please..." Please what? Stop? Continue? Softer? Harder? Her hands found the girl's head as her tongue instantly went to work, lapping hungrily. It was surreal and yet the sensations felt incredible. "Mmm ... you like that, Jessie?" she said into Claire. The reporter gasped. She could feel the vibrations from the girl's voice on her skin. But she had to stop this. Things were getting out of control, going too far. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but the words that came out were anything but. "Yesss ...right there, Precious. Oh shit. Right there!" ---------- They were in the bedroom now. Claire was lying on her back on the small bed while Precious had spread her body across hers, scissoring their legs together. Black on white... The ease with which she'd capitulated wasn't lost on Claire. The last time she'd had the excuse of having drunk too much alcohol. Tonight, she had no such excuse. She was simply giving in to the needs that were threatening to overwhelm her. Precious's toned body was the colour of midnight against her skin and she could feel her heat and wetness their pussies began to clash noisily together. Oh fuck... When Precious arched the top half of her body forward to kiss Claire, the young reporter responded by unleashing the pent up passion simmering inside her. The kiss deepened and saliva dripped between their mouths as their lips and tongues clashed. Pierced nipples. Pierced tongue. The kiss ended as Precious sat back into an upright position, pulling one of Claire's legs up to her shoulder. Staring triumphantly down, she began to slowly move her hips, grinding the full length of their pussies together. The unexpected feeling of their bare skin gliding against one another was so sublime that Claire thought she might pass out. "Black girls do it best, Jessie," Precious teased, humping faster. "Let yourself go, honey." She adjusted position as she spoke, moving her hips in tight little circles as she increased the pace. Their flowing juices combined to enhance the heated grind as clit found clit and her tits bounced erotically on her dark frame. The hearts attached to her nipple rings went with the movement, dancing their own erotic dance. Claire threw her head back and released a deep guttural groan as she started to frantically pump her hips back. "That's it, Jessie," Precious encouraged, holding the reporter's raised leg against her shoulder with one hand and using the other to grip Claire's tight ass. "Like that. Fuck this little black girl..." Claire growled at the words. It was a harsh sound, coming from the back of her throat, and it reverberated in her ears as she humped back for all she was worth. The friction, the heat, the sucking wetness had her close to being out of control. When Precious reached out to slap her tits—once, twice—the growl turned into a shriek and her orgasm washed through her body as if she was being fed a series of electric shocks. Seconds later, she felt herself slipping into a warm, comfortable unconsciousness. ---------- Claire slowly turned her head on the pillow to find Precious lying beside her. Her young black lover looked so beautiful as she dozed softly next to her. Not that it had been her intention to stay the night in Precious's apartment. It had just happened that way. It felt like she had enacted every sexual fantasy she'd had since Monika had first confronted her, with a few new ones thrown in for good measure. Had sex ever been this good? Common sense told her that she had crossed the line. Despite the warnings she had constantly given herself, she had compromised both herself as a reporter and the very investigation she was there to pursue. If she had any sense, she should slip out of bed and leave the apartment before the young woman awoke. Accept what had happened but try and put it behind her. But then ... how could she go when she hadn't yet gained the information she needed? Precious hadn't yet talked about her life as an escort. They'd been too busy fucking to discuss the subject. Too busy fucking? My God! They had! She'd been with a woman for the first time in her life! And, equally as exciting, she'd been with a black woman. The wonderful colour contrast had started to beguile her when Monika's dark fingers had covered hers and pulled her hand to her black sex in the observation room at the Young Offender's Institute. It had grown when Leroy had coerced her into sucking his black dick—in the club and then again in his car. And last night her growing masturbatory fantasies had come true. The sex had been incredible. Turning softly on the bed to face Precious, Claire used just her fingertips to gently tug on the crumpled white sheet that half-covered the sleeping girl. Inch by inch, she gradually exposed her lover's toned body until the sheet fell away completely. For a few moments, she just lay there, drinking in her beauty with her heated eyes. The one thing she hadn't done—yet?—was go down on Precious. Oh God, she so wanted to. Taste that black pussy from the source, not just from her fingers. The hunger inside her needed to be let free ... and yet a part of her told Claire that if she gave in to the craving, she would be lost. It would change everything. Her life would never be the same again and she couldn't afford for that to happen. Her fingers dropped between her own legs as she watched Precious. They brushed across her swollen clit as she mind-fucked the girl and then began to move more insistently as the fantasy took hold. Pushing those black legs apart and dipping her head between them... Oh fuck... Precious's left nipple was inches from her mouth and the temptation was too much to ignore. The nipple ring, with the little heart hanging down, looked so sexy. Maybe, one day, she'd get her own nipples done? Nudging the tip of her tongue forward, she licked across the chocolate coloured nipple ... once, twice, enough to bring a soft sigh from Precious's lips. The girl's sleepy reaction was enough to release the orgasm inside Claire's burning body and she pulled her fingers away as it swept through her. Then she was licking again, bringing the nipple alive at the same time as transferring her sticky hand from between her own thighs to Precious's. The girl's sex was warm and wet. She wasn't going to go down on her. Couldn't. Daren't. But she could bring her to an orgasm in a different way. She'd learnt that last night. Twelve hours ago she'd never been with another woman, other than her brief experience with Monika. Now, she was becoming an expert... Precious began to stir as Claire used her fingertips on her juicy wet pussy, finding and caressing her clit. At the same time her mouth became more active on the girl's nipple, taking the ring between her lips and tugging gently. Half conscious, Precious arched her back to thrust more of her breast towards Claire's feeding mouth. Her legs opened wider to accommodate the probing fingers "I see the little white girl can't get enough," she murmured happily, blinking her eyes open and grinning as full consciousness returned. She raised her hands over her head and then grabbed the bars of the headboard behind her, stretching her black body on the bed. "Put those fingers inside me, Jessie," she huskily murmured, spreading her legs even further apart. A lick of heat ran through Claire at the words. She eagerly worked one finger and then a second inside her. She would lick the tasty juices from them when she'd made Precious cum. The girl instantly pulled both knees upwards so that the squelching digits could reach even deeper. "Yeah, like that..." she moaned, arching her body to the maximum. Only her shoulders and the soles of her feet remained on the mattress as she began to pump her toned body on the probing fingers. Claire had to scramble up onto her knees to keep pace, sinking her mouth onto a chocolate-coloured nipple again as she finger-fucked the girl for all she was worth. "Fuck, yeah," Precious gasped, humping upwards like only a black woman could do. "Make this bitch cum..." ---------- The bubble bath had been Precious's idea. She'd promised to disclose more to Claire about her life as an escort, but wanted to do so in comfort. The young reporter gathered her long hair in her hands and submerged her head beneath the warm water as she waited for the girl to join her. Had they actually fucked all night and again this morning—and in all those different positions? At times she had been so out of control that she'd lost herself in a haze of carnal lust, not caring a fuck about anything thing except giving and receiving the next orgasm. The thought had just passed through her mind when a sudden aroma made her head whip round towards the bathroom door. It was a familiar smell, one she had experienced the first time she'd met Leroy—the noxious odour of blueberry headies. Claire's head whipped round to see her black lover standing by the door, taking a drag from the joint between her lips. "Precious..." she gasped. The sexy girl laughed as she sauntered into the room. "It's only a little harmless weed," she casually shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It helps me relax. And it's not just for me. I lit it for us." She stepped into the bathtub opposite Claire, her long legs stretching down under the water as she settled either side of the reporter's body. For a few moments neither of them spoke, just grinning at one another, and then Precious leant forward and slipped the joint between Claire's lips. "If you're going to be one of the girls," she softly breathed, "you gotta act like one." Claire only hesitated a second. Leroy had used the drug to coerce her into sucking his dick, but this situation was different. Why not? What harm could it do? She took a long drag at the joint, the thick smoke hesitantly curling out from between her parted lips. Jessie Palmer Ch. 03 "That's it," Precious purred, inserting one foot between Claire's thighs and softly rubbing her sex. "Fucking on marijuana is like nothing else. Feel it?" Claire moaned at the touch, and took another drag on the joint, releasing the smoke through her nostrils. She felt alive again as the sensation hit her, as if she could do anything. Her head fell to one side, like a naughty child looking at her mother. Except that this wasn't her mother. It was her lover. Her black lover. "Yeah," she breathed, her brown eyes glazing over as the buzz spread further through. "That's better," Precious encouraged. She took the joint from her and inhaling a long drag before handing it back. "So, you want to know all about life as an escort?" she asked, reaching for the soap. Claire nodded silently. Precious's foot was still between her thighs and she wanted to start to hump on it, to feel the delicious pressure on her sex again. But this girl could tell her things that were essential to her story. "It's the best job in the world," Precious continued, working a creamy lather into her hands. She caressed the soapy foam across her tits, first the right and then the left. Her hands moved slowly as she covered each breast, as if her actions were designed to tease the reporter. Claire took another long drag at the joint, the smoke curling out from her full lips and through her nostrils. "The money is great. All the sex I want. Clients who like to buy me presents to show their appreciation. Most of my clients are white, but yours will be black, honey..." She paused to let the implication sink in as she caressed the soap across her stomach and downwards, under the water, until it seemed she was using it to masturbate herself. "Believe me, they're goin' to love that milky-white body of yours, Jessie," she went on, her foot beginning to move between Claire's legs again. "That'll really get their juices flowin'. You'll drive them crazy, honey, especially with that eagerness you have for black pussy." Claire tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out. Eagerness for black pussy. Was she really that obvious? She took another drag on the joint, losing herself in the heady sensations of the marijuana as Precious ran her big toe along the full length of her opening. The girl was grinning at her, almost defying her to resist as she gently parted her labia with her toe. When it eased inside her, Claire thought she would pass out. "The little white girl craves it, yeah?" Precious continued to tease, rotating her toe as she spoke. Claire's body shuddered and jerked. When the girl repeated the action, she whimpered like a baby. And when she twisted the toe inside her a third time, there was no holding back. The orgasm hit her like a freight train. Precious kept the toe inside her as Claire rose to the summit and then peaked. Her caressing movements were gentler, as if pacing her down from the throbbing intensity until, eventually, she eased the foot away. With both hands on the side of the tub, she rose to her feet and stepped out of the water. Claire watched transfixed as beads of water cascaded down her toned black body. Tiny droplets released themselves from her wet hair, landing silently on her perky breasts and tantalisingly making their way down to her erect, dark-chocolate nipples. "Finish the joint," she huskily breathed, running the fingers of her right hand across her clean-shaven folds. She lewdly opened her engorged labia wider with her fingers, letting Claire see the intoxicating combination of black and pink. "Then we can continue your education, yeah?" ---------- The scene as Claire exited the bathroom stopped her in her tracks. Precious had stretched herself across the bed, her legs spread wide. One hand was squeezing her right breast and the other was busy between her legs. For a moment she just stood by the door, leaning against the doorframe so that she could keep her balance as she watched. The intoxicating effect of the marijuana inhabiting her system seemed to play out the action infront of her in slow motion. The rise and fall of Precious's breasts was almost hypnotic. Her pierced nipples looked like they were begging to be sucked. And the wonderful darkness of the skin between her thighs contrasted with the illicit glimpses of pink between her working fingers. "You like watchin' the lil black girl fuck herself?" she heard Precious whisper seductively. "Don't get shy on me now. Come closer, honey..." She slowly pulled her hand away as she spoke and held two wet fingers out to Claire. "Black pussy, honey," she murmured provocatively. "The best taste in the world. Ya know ya want it." Claire couldn't help herself. She didn't want to help herself. Her knees were threatening to buckle but she was stepping across the floor towards Precious almost before she knew it. When she crawled onto the bed, the girl pressed her juice covered fingers against her parted lips. "That's it, honey. Open up..." There was a sultry edge to her voice, one that made Claire tingle even further. Precious grinned into her clouded eyes as she took the proffered fingers into her mouth. It was as if she knew—they both knew—that she had crossed the Rubicon. There was no going back. She suddenly leaned back on the bed, resting her elbows on the mattress as she spread her legs wider and pointed down to her juicy sex. "It's all yours, Jessie. Come and get it, honey." Claire's need took over as she shifted position and dipped her head. The first lick across Precious's glistening labia was electrifying. The taste, texture and colour all combined to produce an effect stronger than even the most powerful aphrodisiac. She frantically pushed the girl's legs wider still as her mouth went to work. Precious's skin was like silk—black silk—under her hands and her heated gaze stared upwards into her lover's as she began to lap along her wet labial lips. Precious was right. It was the best taste in the world. She couldn't get enough and to begin with there was no finesse. Just frenetic licking. Her hands curled around Precious's thighs, pulling her closer as she covered every inch of her flesh with her tongue. When she tilted her head so that she could push her nose into her pussy, the aroma was almost as intoxicating as her taste. Claire was lost. She was found. She was out of control. "I know, honey, I know," Precious murmured, gripping the reporter's damp hair between her fingers. She yanked her head away momentarily so that she could stare down into her eyes. "Can't get enough, can ya, Jessie?" she huskily purred, curling an errant stand of hair behind Claire's right ear. "And when Precious is finished with ya, this little white girl is gonna know all there is to know about pleasurin' a black woman." She held Claire's face in position as she raised her hips and smeared her juices across her mouth again. "This is every white girl's fantasy, honey," she murmured happily, as she felt the reporter's instantly tongue flick out. "You just get to play yours out. So let's take it nice and slow to begin with, yeah?" ---------- The small café near the newspaper's office was a popular venue for Donald Moseley. It provided a change of scenery when things were getting on top of him and he loved the aroma of fried food could be smelled a few hundred yards away. What was different was that it was the first time he had invited Claire to join him there. "Two all day breakfasts, Sam," he growled to the cigarette smoking owner, without even asking what Claire wanted. "But coffee immediately." He shot her one of his looks as they found a table in the far corner, where it was quiet. They could speak without being overheard. "Do I look as tired as you," he asked. "I've been chasing my tail half the night and all morning, but you look like you've hardly had any sleep at all." Claire hoped the blush that hit her cheeks wasn't noticeable and she slipped a hand through her long hair, as if to create a diversion. She wasn't sure how to respond. Did she really look tired? She felt exhilarated. "Thanks for the compliment," she eventually quipped, hoping she wasn't overstepping the mark. Moseley chuckled to himself as he used the edge of the tablecloth to clean his glasses. Replacing them on his face, he used his index finger to push them up the bridge of his nose. "My pleasure," he grunted, his expression changing from amusement to business in a nano-second. "Okay, let's get on with this, Miss Instincts. What's the latest?" Claire sat back in her chair. Where the heck to start? She had wanted to buy herself more time before she had to meet the editor, so that she could think things through. But he'd grabbed her as soon as she'd returned to the office after leaving Precious's apartment. "I'm edging closer..." she tentatively began. Moseley's stopped her with an upraised palm. "Edging closer? What the fuck does that mean?" She hesitated, trying to recall exactly what she'd told him at their last meeting. So much had happened that it would be easy to slip up. Fortunately, the sudden arrival of their coffees gave her an extra few seconds to think. The café owner grunted something about their meals following shortly before heading back to the kitchen. Claire watched him go before picking up one of the mugs. The chipped one. She stared at the dirty rim before reluctantly taking a sip. Had it been washed before it had been filled with coffee? "Don't be so precious," Moseley told her, when she pulled a face at the bitter taste. "It's free, isn't it?" He took a noisy slurp from his own mug and managed to spill a few drops onto the tablecloth in the process. Claire didn't let him see her roll her eyes. "Well? I'm waiting," the editor continued, setting his mug back down on the table. "What the fuck does edging closer mean. You're either making progress or you're not. And if not—" "I'm making progress," Claire interrupted, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Great progress. I don't have any confirmation of names yet, but I do know exactly what's going on." She'd written out her first draft of the story, after all. She could run through the salient points with him, but avoid the detail she was still working on. Hopefully that would keep him interested and allow her to continue to run with the investigation. "It better be good," Moseley grunted, sitting back as the café owner walked across to them with their food. "I have so much crap piled on my shoulders right now that I could do with some good news." Claire waited until the food was served. It took Sam two passes to serve their hot plates, and then deliver the sachets of sauces, and mustard. Moseley had his mouth full of bacon and egg before she could continue. "Let me recap," she said, trying to ignore the yoke dripping down the front of the editor's shirt. "The girl I saw at the Young Offenders Institute—Laura—is a prostitute. Leroy, the guy I met, looks after the girls." Moseley held his fork up. "That much I know. And Melissa Rhodes employed this girl, yes, without knowing anything about her extracurricular activities." Claire bit her lip. If she told Moseley the truth, he would be certain to take the investigation from her and give it to someone more experienced. Thompson and Baines. That wasn't going to happen. "I'm still trying to establish exactly what Melissa Rhodes knew," she settled for saying. "But what I do know for definite is that Laura is part of a prostitution business in London." "And we can tie her into Rhodes," Moseley said. "Yes..." She hesitated before continuing. "But I'm working towards discovering exactly what that connection was before committing anything to paper. We have to be sure of our facts before—" "Too fucking right," Moseley snapped, shovelling in another mouthful. "I can't afford for the bitch to come after the paper unless I have every angle covered." "Exactly," Claire agreed, giving an inward sigh of relief. That gave her some breathing space. "And I'm getting there. Meanwhile, I'm trying to find out more about the prostitution activities." "Forget it," Moseley told her. Claire stared at him, stunned. "What?" "You think prostitution in London is news? Don't be naïve. Focus on the Melissa Rhodes connection. That's what will set this story apart." "Oh I am," Claire went on, feeling more confident. "That's part of it. But these aren't your run of the mill hookers. They're exclusively lesbian." Moseley's eyebrows went up. He was interested. "From what I can tell," she continued, "Its interracial lesbian. Black escorts who look after white clients and vice-versa." The editor stopped eating for a second. "You know this for a fact?" Claire nodded. "I do. And there's another angle. They recruit girls in all sorts of ways. Get white teenagers drunk and then take advantage of them, train them to be escorts." "Against their will? That's what you're saying?" "That's part of what I'm working on," she said. "The way I figure it is that we have a great story whichever way this pans out. We're just talking about degrees." Moseley pushed his empty plate away. He'd cleaned in less the time it had taken her to sip half her coffee. "You eating that?" he suddenly asked, glancing at her plate. Claire shook her head. She was hungry after her exhaustive session with Precious, but the grease swimming around on the edge of her plate told her it would be safer to wait until she got home before she tried something to eat. Moseley crooked a finger and had swallowed his first mouthful of egg before he spoke again. "What leads are you following?" "I've spoken to both Laura and Leroy." She'd keep Monika out of this for the time being. "And I've now established a good contact with another one of the girls. I know I can get her to tell me more." "And you're going to tell me you don't need any help, right?" Claire kept her face straight. "If I needed it, I'd tell you. "I have one key contact right now and I don't want to risk spooking her by involving anyone else." The expression on Moseley's face was difficult to decipher and for a moment her heart stood still. Don't take this away from me. Please. "You need more money to oil the wheels?" The question took Claire by surprise, but her heart rate surged. If the editor was offering her more cash from his slush fund, it was clear he was allowing her to continue with the investigation. Alone. For the time being, at least. "Possibly," she said, swallowing some air. "I'd like the option." Moseley raised his fork again. "You got it, but you get my say-so on anything above a couple of hundred. Understand?" Claire kept a straight face, even though she was dancing inside. "Absolutely." "Make sure you do," he said, forcing down the last sausage on his plate. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then cleaned his fingers on the tablecloth. "Meantime, I want to see more progress. And quickly. Get the first draft of the story on my desk within forty-eight hours and I'll decide whether we keep running with it. Clear?" Claire nodded. If nothing else, it bought her some time. Moseley pushed himself to his feet and reached for his wallet, before thinking again. "Pay the bill, Miss Instincts," he gruffly said, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. "Then I suggest you get back to work. You have a deadline to meet." ---------- Claire's laptop sat on the kitchen table beside her as she rubbed her eyes. She'd been typing for the last couple of hours, amending the draft she'd already completed. The story made great reading, even if it was still only brushed the surface. But she wanted more. She glanced down at the scribbles on the notepad in front of her. Melissa Rhodes' name was there, as was Olivia's. Both were circled in red ink, but for different reasons. As good as it already was, uncovering Melissa Rhodes as one of Laura's clients would change the whole tenor of the story. Claire's success as an investigative journalist would be assured. Not only that, these things often had a snowball effect. Once the Member of Parliament had been exposed, who knew which other public figures were involved. As for Olivia, all Claire knew was that this was the woman who headed the business. Was there a way of finding out more about her? That really would be game, set and match. Exposing Olivia for what and who she was would blow open the entire prostitution operation. A ring on the doorbell stopped her thoughts mid stream. She glanced at the clock. Who would be visiting her unannounced at this time of night? Quickly saving the work she'd just completed, she pushed the laptop lid closed and made her way towards the apartment door. Fastening the safety latch, she eased it open and peeked into the hallway. "Hello, Missy," a familiar voice said. "I hear ya've been a busy girl. Ain't ya gonna invite me inside so we can discuss?" ---------- "I called in to see Precious on the way here," Leroy told her. He'd followed Claire into the kitchen and she was grateful that she'd closed her laptop before answering the door. Her notebook still remained on plain view next to the computer so she stood with her back to it, keeping it away from Leroy's sight until she could turn the page over. "She said ya intended to join the team," he added, pulling a joint from somewhere and lighting it. "That right? Decision made?" Claire hesitated as she watched him take a toke. It seemed common practice in his world. She was in no doubt that Precious would have told him she'd stayed the night with her. Why wouldn't she? The girl had nothing to hide. And Claire had acted like she intended to become an escort. "Yes," she hesitantly said, playing along despite the danger. "Decision made." Go with it for forty-eight hours at least, and see what else she could find out. Then she would be in a better position to meet Donald Moseley's deadline with something more substantial. But her heart was all of a sudden in her throat as Leroy took a step towards her. From the bulge evident in his groin area, it was clear what was on his mind. Unconsciously, she took a step back against the kitchen island, feeling the cool surface of the counter behind her. This was her home. Leroy shouldn't be here. And yet the thought of blowing him again was making her wet. The joint hung from the corner of his lips as he casually walked across the room towards her, his hungry gaze covering every inch of her milky-white body. "That's good to hear, Missy," he said, stepping closer than she was comfortable with. "Ya know it makes sense." She turned her head away as he moved his face closer to hers, clutching the counter edges behind her. Bracing herself. "Shy all of a sudden?" he grinned, reaching up to touch her face. His hands were rough and callused. "Ya weren't shy in the car the other day, when ya sucked Leroy's dick." The words made her shiver. So did the way his body pushed against hers, pinning her in place. His cock was hardening as he pressed it against her stomach. "What did I tell ya when we first met?" he asked, establishing his authority from the outset. It was a rhetorical question. "This is my territory, and my rules. I told ya to always remember that..." His eyes held hers as he spoke, emphasizing his words. They didn't leave hers as his fingers went to the buttons of her red blouse and unfastened them, one by one. Smoke drifted upwards between them from the joint in his mouth as he pulled the two halves of her blouse apart and gripped the underside of her bra cups. When he yanked them upwards, Claire gasped out loud. Jessie Palmer Ch. 03 "Ya showed me these before," he grunted, cupping each of her perky tits in his hands. Claire could feel her rock hard nipples burning into his large palms as he rolled her breasts in his hands. When his thumbs flicked over her erect nipples, she found herself gasping again. "Leroy..." she began, but he wasn't listening. One of his hands was sliding downwards, his fingers finding the hem of her skirt and travelling along the inside of her thigh. Her body began to tremble as he brushed them across the front of her thong. "Ya very wet, Missy," he said with an arrogant grin. "Wet for what Leroy has between his legs, huh?" Claire knew things had already gone too far. She knew that yet another line had been crossed. Yet how could she stop it from going further now? Any sort of defiance would blow her cover. Why the fuck had she told him she was prepared to join Olivia's team of escorts? In his eyes that meant he could take what was his. His gaze stayed on hers, watching the expression on her face as his fingers pushed her thong to the side and found her wet folds. Claire groaned again and then found herself initiating a passionate kiss with him just to stay quiet. When he buried two fingers into her, she wrapped her arms around his neck just to steady herself. Oh fuck! His thumb was going to work on her swollen clit and her hips were already thrusting forward against his invading fingers. Why should she try and stop him when it felt this good? He swapped the joint from his mouth to hers as he pulled her right hand away from his shoulder and guided it down to the front of his jeans. Claire's heated gaze betrayed her need as she traced her fingertips along the hard outline of his cock. He was already throbbing under her searching fingers. "Want it, Missy?" Leroy asked, shooting her a cocky grin. When she didn't answer, he grabbed her wrist, keeping her hand jammed against his hardness but stopping her from moving it. "I said, want it, Missy?" he repeated. To her eternal shame, Claire found herself nodding. Leroy's lips creased in amusement. When he took the joint from her lips and returned it to his mouth, he took a large drag. He leaned in for what she thought was going to be another kiss but instead opened his mouth as their lips met and passed the acrid smoke from his lungs to hers. Claire didn't know if her sudden coughing fit was from the smoke or her embarrassment. But as she began to cough, his fingers were releasing the top button on his jeans and jamming down his zip. His hand went to hers, manoeuvring it inside the opening. When Claire's fingers found his hard cock, she couldn't help herself, wrapping them as far around the thick girth as she could and gently squeezing. "Nice and eager, jus' the way Leroy likes his white girls," he grunted. "Tonight ya gonna feel what it's like to have a black man inside ya..." Jessie Palmer Ch. 04 This story is based on interracial lesbian seduction, reluctance and coercion (although there is a sprinkling of MF sex). The thoughts of a white women being seduced by a black woman is a long held fantasy of mine, but if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on without feeling the need to leave a derogatory comment. Chapter Four — Claire broadens her horizons --------------------------------------------------------- It had happened. It had actually happened. In the same day that Claire had gone down on her first woman, she had also allowed herself to be fucked by a black stud. Despite the sweeping waves of guilt afterwards, the sex with Leroy was a hundred times more fulfilling than in even her wildest masturbatory fantasies. He was bigger than most men she'd ever been with, that was for sure. In all the sexual encounters she'd ever experienced, she'd learnt that the axiom 'size does matter' was a self evident truth. Had she ever doubted it, Leroy's dick would have restored her faith. His cock had hit places inside her hitherto untouched. His attitude had been the polar opposite to her previous sexual encounters, too. Most of her previous lovers had been considerate. Leroy just took what he wanted. As soon as he'd fucked her against the kitchen island, he had twisted her around and pushed her face down onto the cold surface, roughly yanked her legs apart and then rammed that monster of his inside her again. She had instantly screamed out yet another orgasm. That was something else. Until yesterday, she had never thought of herself as especially noisy during sex. Come to think of it, she was probably at her loudest with her favourite vibe inside her. Sex with Leroy had changed all that. With his hand in her hair, yanking her head back as he pounded her from behind, she was screaming out swearwords she wasn't even aware she knew. Leroy was noisy, too, although in his case it was to tell her what a slut she was, that he owned her now she was one of Olivia's girls, and that he would both look after her interests and fuck her any time he wanted. Even though Claire knew this would all end inside the next forty-eight hours, when she presented Donald Moseley with her story, she had both hated and loved his words. No-one had ever spoken to her in that way before. It had been so hot. When, eventually, it had become too much for even an arrogant black stud like him, he had pulled out just before he came and grabbed her hair again. Pulling her face towards his juice-covered cock, he held her there while he sprayed his thick juice all over her face, neck and tits. "Rub it in," he'd told her with a condescending laugh. "It's good for your skin." After it was over, he had made a phone call in the other room while she cleaned herself up in the bathroom. Her whole body was sore and she knew she should feel guilty. But she didn't. Later, yes, but not immediately. The whole experience just felt surreal. When she returned from the bathroom Leroy was pacing back and forward while he talked on his mobile phone. Another joint hung loosely from his lips. Claire's head was still a little woozy from her previous intake and she wondered whether the smoke she had inhaled earlier had added to the uninhibited way she'd let him fuck her. What had Precious said? "Fucking on marijuana is like nothing else." She could see Leroy through the open door as he'd continued his phone conversation and the sight of his manhood swinging between his legs had instantly registered a further response between her thighs. She'd never liked conceited, overconfident guys before, but she had been practically gagging for Leroy to fuck her again. He had. This time against the wall. Then, out of the blue, just as he was leaving, he told her that Olivia wanted to meet her. Her stomach had done somersaults. That could be the final piece of the jigsaw for her story, the piece that formed the whole picture. Leroy told her she should feel privileged. Olivia usually let him look after the girls. She preferred to stay at arm's length and only became involved when something or someone special came along. Then Leroy told her that she was special. He'd known it from the first time they'd met. That's why Olivia wanted to meet her. As ridiculous as it was, Claire had almost cried infront of him. No-one had said she was special before. All her life she'd fought for what she had, maybe that was why the desire to prove herself in the newspaper industry was so great. To show the world she had it in her. On reflection, she realised it wasn't just Leroy's words that had her choking back the tears. It was the absurdity of the situation. These circumstances were as unusual as anyone could find, and yet it had taken a black pimp who'd just fucked her brains out to make her feel good about herself. When she'd asked Leroy when she could meet Olivia, he'd given her one of his cocky smiles. "When she's ready," he'd told her, squeezing her ass. "When she's ready..." ---------------------------------------- "Olivia?" Precious repeated. Her dark eyes suddenly went wide in mock horror. "You'd better be careful, honey. She eats little white girls like you for breakfast." Claire just stared at her. She was back in Precious's apartment and had waited until they'd made love before casually mentioning her proposed meeting with Olivia. "But then," Precious mischievously added, kissing her neck. "My little white girl likes being eaten by a black woman, doesn't she?" Claire put a hand over her mouth and then they both burst out laughing. It occurred to her that while she had only known Precious for a couple of days, it was remarkable how much at ease she felt in the girl's company. "Okay," Precious added, nodding towards the bowl of water and some shaving implements sitting on the small stool beside the swivel chair. "It's time." They had talked about Claire's dark landing strip and Precious had told her it was the one thing the girls weren't allowed. Olivia wanted her escorts clean shaved. "Sorry honey," she'd said to her, "but if you're going to be one of us, it has to go." Claire began to blush again as Precious batted her eyelashes at her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but despite their afternoon of uninhibited sex, having this girl shave her—any girl shave her—was extremely intimate. She had told herself that she'd called Precious and arranged to meet her again simply to gain some advance information about Olivia. It wasn't the truth. Not the whole truth. She could pretend as much as she liked, but deep down she couldn't fool herself. She'd wanted sex with her again ... to taste that black pussy again. Was there a more satisfying feeling in the world than pleasuring a black woman? As much as she was beginning to crave Leroy's cock, going down on Precious pressed every single one of her buttons. "I like my look," she slowly said, more as a delaying tactic than anything else. Could she really allow Precious to do this? "You look hot, honey," the girl convincingly murmured, her fingers gently caressing the small of the reporter's back. "But you'll look even hotter afterwards." Claire swallowed hard. The lines between the investigation and her 'cover' were becoming more and more blurred with each passing day. She was starting to become so comfortable in this new world that she had to remind herself she had a story to write. "Okay, let's do it," she said, making the decision. Her gaze swung away from Precious to the shaving implements. "Yes, let's do it." "Then let's get it on," Precious answered, clapping her hands happily. She gave one of her deep, throaty laughs that made Claire's spine tingle. She felt the lick of heat start between her thighs and then circle her body as Precious gently guided her towards the swivel chair. As embarrassing as this was, there was no denying the warmth that was growing between her legs. "Nervous, Jessie?" Precious asked. Claire nodded, averting her eyes as she heard that throaty laugh again. "Then let's ease those tensions," she said, holding up a joint and lighting it infront of Claire. She instantly took a few pulls herself and then held the joint between two fingers as she dangled it in front of the reporter's face. But when Claire nervously reached for it, Precious giggled as she teasingly pulled it away. "I have a better idea, honey," she said. Taking a large drag first, she moved her mouth towards Claire. As their lips met, she sexily passed the sweet smoke from her mouth to the unsuspecting woman's. The action was so unexpected and the sensations so hot that Claire instantly felt a surge of arousal consume her body. "Feel better?" Precious asked. Claire nodded. She did. Instantly. Much better. Precious chuckled softly in response, handing the joint to the reporter as she pulled the small stool to the swivel chair and eased her naked body down onto it. Claire immediately took another toke. It was remarkable how comfortable she now felt with a marijuana joint, even if her natural instincts still made it feel a wicked thing to do. And there wasn't any doubt that the warm, floating effect that always washed over her with each intake further enhanced her now constant state of arousal. "Okay, spread 'em..." Precious's words hit Claire between the thighs and then the young black girl was laughing out loud. "You should see your face, Jessie. So innocent. So sexy..." Her hands slid along Claire's naked thighs and gently eased them apart. "Just go with the flow," she breathed. "This is like nothing you've ever experienced." Pin-pricks of heat danced across Claire's scalp at the words. She was in over her head. Drowning. What was she doing here? Like this? A few days ago she would never have believed that anything like this could happen. But it was... For a few seconds, Precious gently glided her fingertips back and forward, as if allowing the heat to build inside Claire's body. Satisfied, she picked up the warm cloth and began to apply just the right pressure in the right places. It clearly wasn't the first time she'd done this. "Hey, there, Jessie," she grinned upwards, as Claire began to squirm. "You've got to sit still..." The reporter forced herself to breath and then took another drag on the joint, hoping it would calm her. Yes. That felt better. Precious smiled up at her as she applied some shaving cream to the brush. "Some for me, honey?" she asked. Claire got the meaning immediately. She took a long toke and then leaned forward so that she and Precious could kiss again. As the smoke passed from one mouth to the other, she knew with a certainty that as soon as Precious had finished her work, she was going to fuck her again. Her need to taste that black pussy was consuming her. Precious took her time lathering the reporter's mound. Her movements were slow and sensual, carrying out the task in hand but clearly intent on heightening Claire's arousal at the same time. Working her up... The reporter tensed as Precious picked up the razor, but Precious soon proved that such nervousness was unwarranted. The girl's expertise was there to see, and after each stroke her fingers gently touched, rubbed and caressed the newly shaven parts. "That looks so fucking inviting," she suddenly said, roughly pushing Claire's legs even further apart and parting the reporter's labia with her index finger. She raised it to her mouth, sucking gently, before repeating the action. Once, twice, three times. The lustful look that had appeared in her eyes screamed out that the process was getting to her, too. "Tastes real good, Jessie," she whispered, her voice almost cracking with intensity. "I'm almost finished. Then I'll give you what you want. Okay?" Claire could barely breathe. The sexual tension filling the air between them was crackling like electricity. She sat stock still as Precious made two more passes, one up, one down, and then she was done. Picking up the wet cloth, she made a show of cleaning the residue of shaving cream from Claire's now smooth mound, and then replaced the cloth with her fingers. Claire's slender body began to rise and fall with the heat of the moment as the fingers traced a soft pattern across her milky-white flesh. Her swollen lips were small and tight, like the rest of her body, blossoming open around her clit just enough to hint at the slicker pink inside. "Tell me what you want," Precious asked, reaching a hand upwards and offering her thumb to the reporter. She pushed it between Claire's soft lips, working it around the inside of her mouth and across her gums. "Suck on it, honey," she told her. Claire shuddered with desire as she took the thumb deep inside her mouth, bathing it with saliva. Her tongue flicked around it, loving its hardness, and then her lips began to gently move as if sucking on it as if it was a cock. Leroy's cock? "That's it, Jessie," Precious breathed, reaching for the shaving lotion with her free hand. She began to caress the white balm into the newly shaved area, bringing a groan from the reporter. Then Claire was arching herself up off the chair, trying to connect her wet sex to the caressing fingers. "So hot," Precious whispered hoarsely, tilting her head. She worked two fingers inside Claire's wonderfully tight pussy as she spoke. When the pad of her thumb brushed her sensitive clit, Claire whimpered out her need. "I know," Precious murmured, dipping her head to suck on one nipple and then the other. Her fingers moved faster. Her thumb flicked harder. "Give it to me, Jessie," she told her, as Claire began to groan. "Cum for Precious. Now..." The reporter's orgasm detonated instantly, her knuckles turning white as her hands gripped the edges of the chair. Precious kept her fingers inside her until the orgasmic tremors began to subside, and then slowly rose from her stool. She stepped across Claire's slumped body, her black pussy inches from the white girl's lips. Sliding both hands to her sex, she lewdly opened her engorged folds wider with her fingers. "This is what you want, yes?" she breathed. "Come feed..." TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER Claire stood infront of Donald Moseley's desk, hands behind her back and fingers entwined, like a naughty schoolgirl who was waiting to hear her fate. Perhaps it was her natural insecurity, but her fear of having the investigation—and therefore the story—taken away from her remained just as strong. That was why she was keeping her potential meeting with Olivia to herself. If she was able to make the contact, she would draw her conclusions and inform the editor at that time. Until then, she had presented him with her draft of the story as he'd requested during their meeting in the café. It was good, very good. She knew it was. And yet from the impassive expression on Moseley's face as he glanced at the article for the umpteenth time and then back at her, she couldn't work out what his reaction was. Eventually, he removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then sat forward in his chair. "You know what this is?" he asked. He tapped the article with his index finger as it lay on his desk infront of him. It's crap. She knew that was what he was going to tell her. She'd seen that look in his eyes before when he'd taken a reporter to task. It was a look that said he was going to eat you up and then spit you out. "Well?" he asked, dropping his glasses on top of the article. "You know what this is?" "It's the first draft of my story," she said, not willing to take him on, but not intending to back away either. "I know it's not the finished article. Maybe it needs polishing. And I'm still following up some leads. But—" The words dried up as her confidence ebbed away. She thought she'd hit the nail on the head with the draft. Okay, there wasn't a single reference to any of the participants, but she had brought the article alive by making sure that illicit sex dripped from every paragraph. All the ingredients were there—interracial lesbian sex, the potential involvement of 'prominent' figures, young teenage white girls being lured into a life as escorts... She nervously moved from one foot to the other and bit her bottom lip as she waited for his response. If he took her off the story and handed it to Thompson and Baines, she would hand in her resignation there and then. Moseley sat back in his chair, picking up the article as he stretched out and placed both feet on his desk. "As you're so tongue-tied, I'll tell you exactly what it is," he said, making her shudder. Oh Shit. Here we go... "It's fuckin' brilliant," he boomed happily, rapping the palm of his hand on the desk for added emphasis. "Fuckin' brilliant..." ---------------------------------------- The white wine slid deliciously down Claire's throat. She adored moments like this, soaking in her round bath with a chilled glass of Chablis, and small candles circling the bathtub. It felt decadent somehow. Tonight, it was a celebration. She had been walking on air when she'd left Donald Moseley's office. He'd been thinking further about the article and decided he wasn't going to print it in the daily editions. He intended to feature it as the lead story inside the prestigious Sunday supplement instead! For a junior reporter like Claire, such a thing was unheard of. But then she was no longer a junior reporter. He'd told her he intended to upgrade her instantly to the highly sought after Investigative Reporter status, and she would jump up three pay grades in the process. Three! Okay, it was probationary. But that wasn't a problem. After she'd finalised her investigations she would be able to present him with a series of articles on the subject. The story would run and run, and if she could specifically tie Melissa Rhodes to the investigation, the sky was the limit. She had rested her watch on the side of the tub beside her and glanced at the time. She had another hour to spare. The request to meet Olivia tonight had arrived out of the blue. But she intended to make the most of it. She couldn't afford any more subtleties. Her plan was to confront Olivia with everything she knew and ask her to comment. If she refused, Claire could tell her she was going to print anyway. It was in Olivia's interests to give her what she wanted, in exchange for a promise to keep her name out of it. The only downside was that it would probably spell the end of her friendship with Precious. She hoped not. She'd never find a better lover than the young girl, and the thought of their relationship ending made her stomach curl. If she explained everything to her, maybe there was a way for the two of them to stay in touch? Then there was Leroy. As strange as it was, Claire wanted to see him again, if only for the sex. She would never have thought it possible, but his arrogant attitude and one dimensional approach was a huge turn on for her. Not to mention the size of his black cock... The recollection of the way he'd pounded her made her body shiver, despite the warmth of the bath. No. She was being stupid, letting her imagination and her cravings run away with her again. Once she had exposed the prostitution operations, she had to draw a line under everything that had happened and keep her contacts at arm's length. If Moseley ever got wind of what she'd done, how she had compromised herself, she could forget about her promotion. He'd throw her out on her ear. Replacing her glass of wine on the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes and thought of Precious again. That girl was amazing. Her hand slid downwards, across her flat stomach and down into the juncture between her legs as the images formed behind her closed eyelids. Jessie Palmer Ch. 04 When her fingers found her clit, her breath caught. Should she? Shouldn't she? Did she have time? The images of Precious grew stronger. She had said at the outset that when she was finished with her, Claire would know all there was to know about pleasuring a black woman. They were well down that road. Last night, she had positioned her naked body on the bed with her back to Claire, doggy style. That stunning black ass, pushed high into the air, had been impossible to resist. Claire had never indulged in ass-play before and a couple of days ago the thought would have been abhorrent. But now ... she craved every experience Precious offered her. She had crawled onto the bed behind the girl and followed her natural instincts... She grew hotter at the thought and her heart trembled. Lowering her head into the warm water, she let her dark hair soak, as if to wash the thoughts away. It made no difference. Sweeping her wet hair back over her scalp, she hooked one leg up over the rim of the tub, spread her legs and thrust her hips forward. As her pubic mound rose above the bubble-filled water, she wasted no time in burying two fingers of her right hand into her tight pussy. She would have just enough time to relieve herself before her appointment with Olivia. ---------------------------------------- It had taken Claire some time to find Olivia's home. To her surprise, it turned out to be a period house, located just off Cadogan Square. If the woman owned such an expensive property, then the clients she serviced must pay well. Very well. That suggested they would be both affluent and powerful. Much like Melissa Rhodes... It wasn't her only surprise. Despite her apparent age—in her early fifties?—Olivia was a stunning woman. Her hair hung long and wavy over her shoulders, highlighted in hues ranging from light blondes to copper. The grey designer dress was clearly expensive and, with her heavy black cleavage spilling over the top of the neckline, it displayed her full figure to perfection. Add in those thick, glossy red lips and she looked every inch a famous female celebrity rather than a Madam who ran an interracial lesbian prostitution business. Allegedly... "Jessie," she had greeted Claire when she'd arrived. "How nice of you to be on time. I do appreciate punctuality. It shows the right level of respect. Do come in. We have a lot to discuss." The warm greeting caught Claire off-guard, so did the woman's sophistication. What had she expected? A female version of Leroy perhaps? How stupid. She took the seat indicated in one of the mahogany armchairs and glanced around the impressive living room as she settled herself. The inside was every bit as impressive as the exterior—everything from the antique furniture, the art collection adorning the walls, the well-stocked bookshelves and the imposing Victorian marble fireplace. This woman had both money and taste. "You seem impressed, Jessie," Olivia observed, as she took a seat on the sofa opposite. She casually sat back, one dark arm hooked over the back. "Perhaps you were expecting something different?" Claire took a deep breath before answering. It would be easy to be overawed by the surroundings, but she was there on a mission. She needed to keep her composure. "I wasn't sure what to expect," she pleasantly replied, keeping her answer non-committal. "And my name isn't Jessie. It's Claire." She'd rehearsed that opening on her way there. And she'd gone through her follow-up several times in her head. She wanted to confront Olivia as soon as possible, and get her on the back foot. But when the older woman's smile widened, she sensed that things weren't going to be as straightforward as she'd anticipated. "I understand your confusion," she replied, cocking her head to one side as she spoke in her refined, upper-crust accent. Not what Claire had expected at all. "So let me clarify," she went on. "When you work for me, your name will be Jessie. In your day-to-day activity as a newspaper reporter, you'll continue as Claire. It really is that simple." Claire's heart caught in her throat. The woman spoke with real authority and she hadn't expected that. And how did she know Claire was a reporter? "I've known it from the start," Olivia continued, as if she had read her mind. "Laura told me. Since then I've offered you lots of opportunities to discredit yourself while you've been chasing your story. And my, my, you seem to have taken every one of them. You've been a very naughty little thing, haven't you?" Claire was stunned and felt hysteria creeping in. Not for one moment had she anticipated that Olivia was keeping an eye on her actions. She'd been set-up. And she'd fallen hook, line and sinker for the trap. God, she felt so naïve! She racked her mind for some sort of response but instead just sat there, frozen to her chair. Olivia took advantage of the pause to pick up a small golden bell from the table beside her and gently rang it. Within seconds, Laura had entered the room—the young girl who Claire had met at the Young Offender's Institute. She was the reason why the reporter found herself in this position. And making the situation even more surreal, the teenager was naked except for a tiny blue g-string. "Didn't I tell you that Melissa would drop the charges?" she triumphantly asked, beaming at Claire. She didn't look fazed in the slightest at her near-nakedness, but a cursory wave of Olivia's raised hand silenced her. "Laura always has too much to say for herself," she explained. "And please don't be shocked by her appearance. I insist on my girls dressing this way in my home. Or should I say, undressing? You must be warm in your clothes, Jessie, dear, but we'll take care of that very soon." Claire exhaled deeply. She was in trouble, she knew that. The question was how much trouble. She had rehearsed the meeting in her mind over and over again—what to say, the points she intended to make—but Olivia had taken complete control of the situation. "Don't worry, dear," she went on, her tone of voice reassuring even if her words weren't. "I understand exactly why you wanted to meet me. But as you can see, the meeting is on my terms, not yours. And before you think of any silly response, let me show you why." She nodded to Laura, and the girl instantly picked up a large envelope on the table beside Olivia. The smile on her face as she brought it to the reporter was chilling. She bent forward theatrically as she handed it to Claire, so that her large breasts hung between them like ripe fruit ready for picking. When she caught the reporter glancing at them, a grin touched her lips. She exchanged an amused glance with Olivia before skipping back to her place. "Please open," Olivia said, nodding at the envelope in her hand. "Then we can talk about next steps." Claire's hands shook as she tried to casually open the large envelope, as if it was of no consequence to her. Instead, she found herself ripping it open, tearing the buff paper in her haste. Her heart was in her mouth as she saw the contents consisted of several photographs. The first was slightly grainy, but clearly showed her in the act of masturbation in the toilets at the Young Offenders Institute. The second was much clearer, picturing her while she fingered Monika in the Observation Room. The guard's face was pixilated out, but the action was self evident. The couple of photos of the blow job she'd given Leroy during their first meeting were quite graphic, s were the photographs of her going down on Precious when she visited the girl's apartment. She stared at them over and over again, refusing to meet Olivia's gaze until she had no alternative. "You'll understand that these are only a few of the photographs in my possession," the older woman said. "And as you might expect, I have video recordings, too. My personal favourite is your eagerness to get it on with Precious. But then she is delicious, isn't she? So difficult to resist. And I have to say that Leroy also thinks highly of your oral skills." Claire stared silently at her, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But this woman had ripped the final shreds of her self-esteem away. How could she have been so stupid? She'd known the consequences of crossing the line, but had ignored them. The cold reality of the situation was that Olivia had trapped her, but she had brought it on herself with her ill-judged actions. Where did she go from here? She couldn't expose Olivia without firm evidence and she didn't have any. And when the woman made the photographs public, she would be discredited. Her career was at an end. Her lips trembled as she met Olivia's gaze again. The woman was smiling and it was clearly a triumphant smile. "As I see it, you have two choices," she told Claire, pressing home her advantage. Her voice soft and yet decisive. "You can try to defy me, in which case a copy of the photographs and a short synopsis of the video will be sent to Donald Moseley, your family, and also posted on the Internet. The full version will appear on a pay-for-view site I have set up. That session between you and Precious will undoubtedly be a best seller. But..." She paused, letting the cold sense of finality sink in. "We don't really want any of that do we, not when the alternative is so much more attractive." Claire wanted to respond, but couldn't find the words. The older woman had her between the devil and the deep blue sea. Her aspirations for a successful career were vanishing in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it. But was she about to be offered a lifeline? "The alternative?" she softly asked, her heart pounding even faster. Olivia's full, glossy lips curled up in a devilish smile. "A win-win for both of us," she persuasively exclaimed. "I always find that people are much more amenable when they have something at stake. Would you like to hear more?" Claire hesitated. It felt like she was about to do a deal with the devil, but what choice did she have? "Yes," she said, knowing that the older woman had no intention of continuing until she agreed. Olivia inclined her head in approval. "Let's start with the benefits for you," she murmured, sitting back and crossing her shapely legs. "Not only will you continue with your career, it will go from strength to strength. I can open doors for you, Jessie. To important people. Exclusive interviews. And some inside information that will help you expose one or two areas of wrongdoing, when the need arises." "Wrongdoing?" Olivia shrugged. "You don't get to my position without making some enemies. Occasionally they will need to be taught a lesson. You get the exclusive lowdown on someone's activities and turn it into a front page exposé. I take care of a problem. We both get what we want. I believe it's called a quid pro quo." The cold air of realization began to dawn on Claire. She had been wondering why Olivia had gone to all this trouble to entrap her. It was beginning to make more sense now. "Your career will soar," the woman added, toying with the hem of her skirt. "Just as others have under my guidance. Lawyers, police, even Members of Parliament..." Laura gave a snigger from the side. Claire had been so engrossed in Olivia's explanation that she'd almost forgotten that the girl was there. "Let's call it a short cut to success," the older woman continued, tucking a loose strand of her near perfect hair away from her left eye. "It sounds attractive. Yes? Especially when compared with the alternative." Claire was unable to help the surge of relief run through her body. Olivia had started with the blackest picture and was gradually offering her a way out. But there was a price to pay... "And?" she simply asked. "Oh, that's quite obvious, isn't it?" Olivia answered, with an unnerving laugh. "You'll work as one of my escorts." She paused for effect. The silence was deafening. "Precious has done a wonderful job of teasing out your undeniable talents," she continued. "I have several female clients who would pay well to experience your newly learned skills. All black, of course, like myself." The blush that had appeared on Claire's body was now covering her from head to foot. Images of everything encounter with Monika, Precious, Leroy ran through her mind like a series of pictures on fast-forward. "With that uninhibited eagerness of yours, you'll soon be one of my top girls, just like Laura," Olivia went on. She glanced across at Laura and Claire followed her gaze. The first time she'd seen the girl, Laura had been wearing a black skirt that stopped mid-thigh and a tight white top that strained to hold her ample breasts in check. The sight had made Claire's mouth water. Now, semi-naked, with her Playboy breasts thrusting from her body, she looked every bit the Lolita of that early meeting. "Laura and you are so similar in many ways," Olivia softly told her. "You both have a craving for sex with black men and women. And I'm offering you the opportunity to sate that craving again and again. As I said, a win-win for both us. You should be thanking me, dear..." She paused for a second time and draped both arms along the back of her sofa. "I now have a question for you, Jessie, one which I will ask only once. So please think carefully about your answer. Would you like to work for me? Yes or No?" Claire took a gulp of air. She looked at Olivia, then Laura, and then back at Olivia again. The woman's gaze was fixed firmly on her as she waited for her answer. Yet there was no tapping of her foot, no checking of her watch, no need for further comment. She was patient. Patient because she already knew the young reporter had no choice. "Yes," Claire softly said. Her voice was barely a whisper. The smile Olivia gave at her response almost made her turn around and run. "Good choice," the older woman said. "So let's start as we mean to go on, should we?" She casually waved a hand towards Laura. "As I explained earlier, I insist on a certain dress code in my home, particularly with my white girls. That means you're overdressed and I do hate that. Stand up and remove your dress, dear." The command hit Claire between the eyes. Olivia wasn't losing any time in exerting her control. "Now," Olivia added, even though the hesitation had lasted only a couple of seconds. Her voice was harsher, brooking no argument, and her arched eyebrow told the reporter she was waiting. The young reporter's mouth went dry as she rose to her feet and reached for her zip. Tugging it downwards, the dress fell onto the plush carpet around her ankles, leaving her in just her skimpy black bra and matching thong. When Olivia casually twirled her fingers, it was to tell her to turn around. She did so slowly, feeling the heat of the moment burning through her body. "Impressive, Jessie," the woman praised, leaning forward in anticipation. "Keep going." With a swallow, Claire instantly obeyed. Her hands were shaking so much it was difficult to unhook the catch of her bra, but then it was free, exposing her perky breasts. If her nipples hadn't hardened the moment Olivia had told her to undress, they would have grown hard then. "Normally we stop there," the woman told her. Her voice was a soft encouraging purr. "But for someone as pretty as you, you I'm going to make an exception. Show me that beautiful treasure of yours, dear." Claire felt as if her legs would collapse beneath her at any moment, but somehow managed to ease her thumbs into the waistband of her thong. Had she ever felt this uncomfortable? And yet, there was a certain undeniable excitement mixed in with the humiliation. She was stripping naked for a black woman... Closing her eyes, as if that protected her in some way, she tugged the thong over the gentle curve of her hips. When she pulled it down over her milky-white thighs, she had removed the last bit of modesty she had. "Perfect," Olivia softly drawled, devouring her with her eyes. Was there a throaty tinge to her tone now? "Just perfect. My clients are going to love you." She patted a place on the sofa next to her. "Come here..." Claire moved forward instantly. The older woman's voice had an extra edge to it when giving an instruction. Even so, her legs felt so weak that she wasn't sure if they would carry her across to the sofa. Olivia reached out and cupped her breasts as soon as she took a seat beside her. Her gaze stayed on Claire's when she squeezed them, as if looking for any sign of resistance. She was being tested. "Look at the contrast in colour between us," the older woman murmured, taking the reporter's hard nipples between her forefingers and thumbs. "It's such a turn on, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, she gently twisted the nipples. Claire closed her eyes and grunted. Her breathing was coming out in short pants. Olivia pulled on them a second time, a little harder this time. And then again, even harder... Claire's grunts grew louder and she had to bite her lip. "Pleasure and pain can be such a wonderful mixture," Olivia said, an amused glint in her eyes as she tilted her head fractionally to the right. She cupped the reporter's right breast in her palm while her free hand dropped between Claire's thighs. Her searching fingers found the girl's clit, rubbing the little nub in soft circles. "So wet," she softly drawled. "Let's see exactly how much." Keeping her gaze firmly locked on her new acquisition's dreamy expression, she worked one and then a second finger inside her. They entered easily. Her other hand left Claire's breast and found her long hair, yanking her head back so that she could stare deep into her eyes. "I own you now," she whispered, lapped her tongue along the full length of the reporter's white neck. "You need to know that I treat loyalty well. Always remember that." Tightening her grip in Claire's hair, she held her head steady and locked their gazes again to emphasise the point. Then she slowly and sensually licked her wet tongue along the reporter's neck a second time, as she worked a third finger inside. Claire gasped and found her legs spreading wider of their own volition. She had never taken three before. "So tight," Olivia murmured, as she roughly began to finger her. "And so responsive..." Her mesmeric gaze didn't leave Claire's and as much as she wanted to, the reporter couldn't draw her own eyes away. She was like a rabbit caught in headlights. She began to pant as Olivia upped the pace, and then her whimpers hit the air. Her hips were moving of their own volition on the fingers, dancing to the older woman's tune. Those knowing dark eyes weren't leaving hers, as if seeing into her soul ... as if the woman was mind-reading every sexual kink she had ever experienced. She began to pump her hips faster, pushing her body up and back on the working fingers. Had she really turned into such a slut? In such a short time? This woman was pressing all of her buttons and she couldn't resist. But then Olivia was pulling her hand away. Teaching her a lesson? No ... please ... no! She was so close... "Don't worry, dear," Olivia soothingly reassured her. "I know exactly what you need. That's why Laura is here..." ---------------------------------------- Everything had come full circle. This had all started with Laura. Had Claire not interviewed the girl at the Young Offender's Institute, she wouldn't be in this position now. By teasing her juicy finger across Claire's unsuspecting lips, Laura had lit the fire that had burned and burned until the reporter had discovered the new desires she didn't even realise were hidden deep inside her. Jessie Palmer Ch. 04 And here, right now, the teenager was reigniting the fires that just wouldn't go away. The girl's tongue and fingers were incredible. Claire had never thought of herself as multi-orgasmic, but a third orgasm was on the way as surely as night followed day. Olivia had changed seat and was watching the action from her position in the mahogany chair opposite. The hem of her dress around her waist, one of her legs was curled over the arm of the chair and her panties hung from her ankle. Those black fingers of hers were drawing patterns on her black pussy as she savoured the unfolding scene infront of her. Her left hand cupped a large breast, raising it to her mouth so that she could suck on her nipple. Occasionally she pulled her fingers away from her sex to lick at them before allowing them to return to their task. Claire couldn't take her eyes away from those fingers, or from that wonderful black pussy. It was glistening with Olivia's juices. She had never seen anything quite like the size of the woman's clit. And it was growing even larger with each stroke of her middle finger... It was amazing ... and it was calling to her... As if she could read her mind, Olivia suddenly crooked a finger towards her. "All my white girls have that same craving," she softly breathed, a knowing look in her dark eyes. "Come here, Jessie." Claire placed a hand on Laura's head and gently eased it away. As wonderful as the teenager's tongue was, she had stronger desires that needed to be satisfied. Stepping over the girl's body, she made her unsteady way across the plush carpet towards Olivia, her gaze glued to the honey pot that awaited her. Dropping to her knees, she flicked her tongue across her lips in anticipation of the feast awaiting her. "That's it," Olivia whispered caressingly, curling one hand around the reporter's neck and gently tugging her head forward. "Taste..." ---------------------------------------- Like a starving animal needing to feed, Claire worked her lips, mouth and tongue across Olivia's baby-smooth mound, lapping eagerly at the enticing black flesh. Once you've had black, you'll never go back. That's what Precious had told her, and then taught her. And it was true. The feeling of serving a black woman was like no other she had ever experienced. The aroma, taste and texture all combined to pervade her senses, remove reason from her psyche and replace it with sheer need. Even when a movement to her left caught her eye, she was unable to stop. Laura held a video camera in her hand and was recording every second of the action. So what? There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to. And she wasn't sure that she did... When Precious had told her there were two kinds of white women—those who badly wanted to be with a black woman, and those who didn't yet realise how badly they wanted it—she hadn't fully believed her. She did now. Inside a week, the reporter had gone from one category to the other. Olivia's hand reached down and tilted her chin. "Such a beautiful sight, dear. Perhaps I'll allow you to watch the recording with me if you're really good..." The older woman's warm hands returned to her hair. They occasionally tugged and guided her head up or down, letting her know what pleased her the most, but mainly scratching at her scalp with her fingertips. As time went on Claire's head moved faster, her tongue flicked harder. She had no idea how long she had pleasured the woman, but she wasn't going to be denied. She wanted Olivia's orgasm and she wanted it badly. She added her fingers to the mix, working two of them inside the pink folds as she concentrated her lips and tongue on that wonderfully large clit. It was magnificent and she swallowed it whole into her mouth, sucking on it like she would on a cock. The action was enough to take Olivia over the edge. Her heated moan came from the back of her throat as she came, more like a strangled gurgle, and then her body was arching. But Claire wasn't prepared for what came. How could she be? When the first squirt erupted, it took her by surprise as it splashed across her hair. She tried to jerk her head away but Olivia was expecting the response. Her strong hands held the reporter's head, her manicured fingernails digging into Claire's scalp as she held her close. The full force of the second gush spurted across her face, and the third splashed over her neck and breasts. Shock turned to desire. Reluctance to eagerness. She opened her mouth in an attempt to catch and swallow and further emissions, not moving away until she was drenched. And in that moment of absolute sexual bliss, one thing became very clear to the reporter. Her young life was never going to be the same again. THREE MONTHS LATER Claire took a seat on the small chair next to the wall and crossed her legs. There was a sort of karma about the meeting. An exclusive interview with a highly esteemed Member of Parliament was quite a coup for the paper, and a major feather in Claire's cap. The request had insisted that the interview would be given to her and her alone, enhancing her journalistic reputation even further. Donald Moseley was already delighted with her, especially as she had already brought him a couple of other exclusives during the last three months. Courtesy of Olivia, of course. Her alternative employer had kept everyone of her promises since their first meeting at her home. She had been working full throttle to combine her newspaper and escort activities since then, and was looking forward to a couple of days break over the forthcoming weekend. Not that she would be getting much rest. Leroy was taking Precious and her to a weekend party in a country house near the New Forest. Some of Olivia's friends needed entertaining... "Hello," a female voice greeted her. Claire turned on her chair towards the sound. She had been so lost in her musings that she hadn't realised anyone had joined her in the small reception room. Releasing her thoughts, she turned towards the new arrival. Melissa Rhodes was a full figured woman, with a warm and welcoming thick Caribbean accent. "Claire, isn't it?" she asked, although there was a clear hint of amusement in her voice. "Let's get straight down to business, should we? It's a particularly busy day today. Come this way, please." Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her patent leather pumps and started back towards the door. Claire let her eyes linger on the woman for a moment before standing. The little pinstriped skirt stopped high on the woman's shapely thighs and her wonderful bubble butt ass was clearly defined under the material. A warm lick of heat flickered around her neckline as she followed the woman out of the door. In a sense, Melissa Rhodes had been the catalyst for everything that had happened to her. And now... The woman grinned at her over her shoulder as she led Claire into what appeared to be a small ante room. When she closed the door behind them, a sudden metallic sound confirmed that the lock had been clicked into place. She walked past Claire to the desk beside the curtained window and held up an A4 envelope. "There's a full briefing inside," she said, removing her suit jacket and dropping it onto the desk. Her immaculate white blouse struggled to contain her heavy breasts. "Enough for you to be able to concoct an article of sorts," she continued. "It saves time. Your appointment is only scheduled for half an hour and I intend to take advantage of every moment." She slipped both hands under her skirt and dragged her panties down her thighs, tossing them towards Claire. "A souvenir," she explained, without a smile. "I need to see the draft article before print, of course. I'll let you have it back with amends." Hiking her skirt up to her waist, she sat down in the dark wooden chair and planted the sole of one foot on the edge of the desk. She spread her other leg far enough for Claire to have a full view of the thick strip of curly black hair that adorned her compact, and very wet, labial lips. "I'm really not sure whether to call you Claire or Jessie," she said, idly stroking her fingers across her glistening folds. "Not that it really matters. Olivia tells me you're the best girl she has. And Laura speaks highly of you, too." Her deep brown eyes ran across Claire's body as she raised her free hand to glance at her silver watch. "Twenty eight minutes," she said, her voice a little thicker in anticipation of what was to come. "I take a lot of pleasing, but if you make these the best twenty eight minutes of my life, your reputation is guaranteed. Then I'll make sure to introduce you to some of my influential female friends..." Copyright 2014 by deliciousthoughts