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?

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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.

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"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.

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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."

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"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.