Isobel 1 - Making a Discovery

"Mark a newbie for the Madison"

The voice was deep but given a certain edge by pleasure and perhaps excitement.

A piece of paper appeared on the screen showing a date written in marker pen. The date shown was only a couple of days earlier. Below the date a dark finger held in place a driving license from their state. The picture showed a blonde young woman quite clearly while her name and address had been blurred. Also sharp and clear was the woman's date of birth. She was still a couple of months off being able to go into a bar in their city. Happily, they weren't planning on going to a bar and twenty was old enough for what they had planned in any state of the union.

"Now we gonna earn some points - you ready baby?"

The camera, more probably a phone, moved round until a young woman's face was front and center. She was easily recognisable as the owner of the driving license.

"Ain't she sweet - first timer here of course. But its even better ain't it baby? You gone Black before?"

A nervous smile and a shake of the head.

"Well enjoy baby - I gotta feeling you soon gonna be making up for lost time in the biggest way."

The camera moved back a little and behind the woman a dark form moved into place. A dark-skinned torso with clearly defined muscles, inked designs showing clearly. A gun was easily recognisable, a car, a hand of playing cards or was that currency? A deep dark 'M' with the outlines of naked girls entwined around it.

The inked torso dipped a little in the camera and then moved forward.

"God."

Her eyes, a deep blue, widened as the word escaped her lips.

"Fuck."

Long dark fingers showed at her hips as he held his position. Waiting. Letting her adjust.

"Yes."

"So you ready to be fucked?" This second voice was also deep but with a more gravelly sound. A voice that carried authority, that knew what it wanted and pretty much always got it. "I mean fucked for real - not by some little white boy."

"Yeah - fuck me."

That was all he had been waiting for. His body moved slowly but with purpose. Pushing up into her and then easing back. Each repetition edging further forward, claiming a little piece more of her. She'd seen his hard cock of course, had sucked it real nice, but feeling it was something else, feeling it was what sealed the deal. Feeling it was what kept girls like her coming back, always wanting and then needing more.

Now he was into a steady rhythmn and the young woman was clearly getting into it too. No-one looking at her face could have doubted that. The sparkle in her eyes, the slight blush on her cheeks, the excited smile into the camera. She was learning something here, having something confirmed that she had always wondered about, had always fantasised about.

The muscular Black body behind her picked up the pace. Firmer, deeper, longer strokes and the slap, slap, slap, of bare skin on bare skin. The woman was breathing fast now and almost laughed at the realisation. She had taken all of him, all of that Big Black Cock.

"Yeah," his deep voice was almost a growl "yeah - you getting it all. What's that make you girl?"

"Fucking lucky." Now she did laugh, a slightly manic breathy laugh.

"Maybe," his voice was stern, "but you know what we wanna hear. What we gonna make you? What you gonna be." He stepped up the pace of his fucking again, every thrust with a weight of intent behind it. "Tell me."

The laugh had gone now. She was looking forward and suddenly seemed to notice the camera capturing her again. She gasped and brought her hands up to her face.

Strong Black arms swiftly grasped her white ones and gently, but firmly, pulled them away from her face. Moved them behind her back where one strong Black hand held them in place. The other Black arm hooked round the top her chest and held her upright in front of the pitiless lens of the camera.

"What we gonna make you girl?" The same question and delivered in the same tone. He would have to be answered.

This time she didn't try to duck away from the camera, didn't try to shy away from the truth. Every second was confirming in her mind what she had suspected and then dreaded and now welcomed. This was a fuck like she had never had before, these were men like she had never met before. Everything had changed for her - she wouldn't be able to reverse her course now.

"A slut." Her words were almost soundless, mouthed into that merciless, all-seeing, lens.

"Yeah," now his voice had that lilt of triumph in every word. "A Black mans woman, a Black man's slut, a Black man's ho. Preach it." Every couple of words punctuated by a powerful thrust forward, his cock balls deep in warm, wet, white pussy.

Now he really took the brakes off. Fucking the woman hard, making sure he got what he wanted.

Her mouth was open now, gasping for oxygen. The blood and adrenaline surging through her arteries and veins. Sensations that she had never felt before remorselessly claiming her body and brain.

The camera caught it all. Her flushed face, wild eyes and also on camera her bared nipples, standing proud and hard as diamonds.

"Preach it." You couldn't see his face and indeed never saw either of the men's faces but you knew he was talking through gritted teeth. He was getting close.

A wild glance at the camera and then the moment of acceptance, of realization. She had mouthed words before but now she shouted them, howled them, as the knowledge of her own surrender to her fate took her over the top. "I'm a Black man's slut, a Black man's whore!!!"

Her body quivered and she might have collapsed onto the bed but two strong Black arms held her in position. The position that he wanted as his hard Black cock kept fucking her, powering her through one peek and towards another. At its moment of realisation his muscular body pushed hard against hers and even through her own climax she had to know it. He was cuming in her. Another couple of hard, deep, thrusts and then his movements were more careful, more professional. Making sure his new little bitch got it all.

"Oh God!" she was sucking in deep breaths of air as he finally allowed her down onto the bed.

The camera moved around and caught him as he finally withdrew. Pulling back inch after inch of thick dark cock from her pussy, a pussy sated for the moment but that would always now be hungry for more. The dark shaft gleamed with moisture as it withdrew until finally its head emerged, still with a bead of cum dripping from it.

A dark finger skilfully, almost nonchalantly, explored her and found her most sensitive area. He worked her like a man who had done this many, many, times. The microphone caught her groan of pleasure at the same moment that the lens caught a well of his potent, African, seed inside her well-fucked white pussy.

"Yeah mark it up for the Madison. Thass the points for a newbie and one more for the creampie. First of many cos you is gonna be coming back ain't you bitch?"

"Yeah." There was no resignation or anxiety in the girl's voice now. She was just stating the obvious.

"Why you coming back Girl?"

"Because I'm a Black man's slut."

The two men laughed and a Black hand slapped her butt hard, making her gasp in response. "You sure as fuck is - but the evening ain't done yet."

The camera swing round and came to rest on a beautiful young brunette, her long hair framing her face. She saw the camera move but didn't try to escape it, didn't even remove her hand from inside her panties. She had clearly enjoyed watching her friend getting Blacked.

"You a virgin too?"

"No," her response was annoyed at the idea, "I've fucked loads of times."

"With Black men?"

She paused and then admitted, "No."

"Then you a virgin," his voice had a playful tone to it, "but get them clothes off and you ain' t gonna be one much longer.

The brunette didn't hesitate. Her jeans and top were on the floor even before the second man had found her ID in her bag ready to be shown to the camera.

The screen went dark. 'Session 24-158 part ii will be available tomorrow,' scrolled onto the screen in white letters. 'Score for Madison confirmed -               10 points for a new recruit and 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

Then the video ended.

For a good ten seconds she just looked at the screen. Isobel Denver had never, in her twenty-six years on God's good earth, seen anything like it. She had a nagging thought that she should have turned it off as soon as she had realised the nature of the video. However, she hadn't. She had somehow needed to see it all the way to its conclusion.

Even now she could still see that powerful, muscled, Black body. Could still see that Big Black Cock pulling out of freshly-seeded white pussy. It took a moment to remember where she was and to carefully restore everything to how it had been before she could close the lap-top. She took a deep breath and then laughed at herself. It was crazy - it wasn't like she was a sex-mad teenager or something.

So she dismissed those dangerously alluring visions from her mind. However, as time would soon tell, it is not so easy to exclude some things from your fantasies or your dreams.

***

There were apparently such things as amicable break-ups. Unfortunately, that had not been Isobel Denver's experience.

Isobel Denver. It was strangely reassuring to be Isobel Denver again. Taking her husband's name had been a mistake but not nearly so big a mistake as marrying him. Let alone marrying as young as they had. How did you pledge your future life to someone who didn't even know who they themselves really were yet?

At least she had understood her mistake reasonably quickly. Perhaps that had been her maturing too. Understanding that she couldn't go on as she had over those four years.

She no longer had any animosity towards Simon. She had no doubt that he would do well, had little doubt that he would find a wife that more fitted his idea of what a wife should be. An adjunct, an accessory and a servant. Always subordinating her desires and needs to those of the master of the house. When he did find her he'd no doubt ditch his newly-found Catholic refusal to agree to a divorce. Then he could have one - a nice easy amicable one. In the meantime she didn't care because she was not planning on marrying again. Once bitten twice shy!

She didn't want his name or his money. The only things she had kept were his rings. They were useful in fending off the lounge lizards who made a pastime of sniffing around women as attractive as Isobel was.

She was pretty sure Simon hadn't always had those attitudes - especially when they had first met. You never knew though. Maybe he had just hidden them. Now that would be cause for animosity but she didn't believe it had been the case. It was just that as she had grown up Simon had failed to do so. As if everyone else in his life was just another NPC to be considered only in so far as their actions and feelings had an impact on him.

She'd stuck it as long as she could and then had, very calmly, pointed out what was happening. If he had denied it or got angry then she might have had a little more hope that the situation was salvageable. Instead he just hadn't understood, had been emotionally incapable of grasping the first part of what she was trying to say to him.

In truth she had pretty much subordinated her career and needs to his. A serious mistake in those crucial years. A worse mistake when she found herself surrounded by his friends and family in his city. Even working for the same firm though of course that hadn't lasted long. 'Bad for team spirit' apparently. Well fuck them. Still - she was beginning to repair the damage.

In two ways she had been fortunate. First, they had not started a family. With children in the mix things could have got very bad or, more likely, she would have been unable to leave him. The very idea made her shudder a little but perhaps with children it would have been different?

Her second piece of luck had come via her sister. Hayley's husband was quite the high flyer. He'd won a Project Leadership role for his company down in Chile for six months. Which meant their house would be empty and they didn't need to rent it out but they didn't want it left obviously empty. Even in their leafy suburb that would be a little too much of an invitation.

So Isobel found herself house-sitting their really beautiful home. With six months to sort herself out and get herself in a position to start again. It was a peculiar feeling to live surrounded by other people's family pictures and furniture. She had carefully based herself in the guest room which she could make her own to some degree with what little had survived the wreck of her marriage.

Essentially she had the house to herself but not quite. Her elder sister was the second wife of Paul and while they had no children he did have a daughter from his first marriage That young woman, Zoe, was now at college but she had visited when Isobel had moved in and she was due back during the break.

That was no problem for Isobel. Apart from anything else she was really Zoe's guest rather than the other way around. Whatever was the case she liked Zoe and hoped the feeling was reciprocated. Despite being her step-aunt (if there even were such things as step-aunts) there were actually only five years between their ages. In fact, Isobel had a much bigger age difference with her own sister.

Anyway Zoe was an attractive and intelligent young woman. They had never really talked properly before Zoe's first visit back home and when they had done so it had been a really pleasant surprise. The talk had been superficial of course but they had got along very well.

In the meantime there were CVs to e-mail and applications to fill in. In truth she knew it was something of a lost cause. That model of journalism was dying fast. Her old employment had, she had to admit, been secured largely on her ex-husband's family influence. If she wanted to earn a living that way then it would have to be as a freelance and even that most definitely required a big story to get her name out there. The alternative was writing fiction - an even less likely source of a steady income.

Her first two weeks of house-sitting saw the pace of life slow down. It was a nice place but it was big and out in the suburban desert. Boredom could goad you into more job-hunting but the effect was lessened somewhat when you half-admitted it was a futility. Then it was a rapid slide into total boredom.

It really had been very fortunate for her that this surrender was followed very rapidly by Zoe's arrival on her break. At least for a month or so there would be someone sharing the house.

***

"Your phone's ringing."

Through the door Isobel heard the slight chaos of a person being startled out of their previous thoughts. She had heard a rhythmic squeak as she had come to the door but that had stopped now too. Isobel felt a certain guilt at interrupting Zoe's studies. However, it was rare for the younger woman not to have her phone on her and it had become clear that she hated to miss calls.

"I can answer it for you if you want."

Now the noise through the door redoubled. It flew open and Zoe dashed out blurting, "NO, no, I thought it was in my jacket. Sorry - I'll get it."

Now Isobel really did regret disturbing Zoe. There had been something very strange about her. Looking through the still open door she saw a lap-top with its screen showing a blank word processor document.

Journalists, even failed ones, are curious. Isobel was curious even for a journalist. She couldn't resist taking the few steps into the room to see what Zoe had been working on There was a minimised video window but that didn't interest her. Next to it was a text window which was also minimised and labelled 'Project'.

Isobel wanted to take an interest and who knew maybe she could help. That would serve to pass the time at least. She clicked the tab and the text appeared on the screen.

Two seconds were all that it took. Her eyes taking in one word and then another and then another. This was no college project. Her surprise gave way to a feeling of some amusement. It seemed that she was not the only one trying her hand at some fiction but Zoe's version was spicy to say the least! Not exactly PC either or woke or whatever the favoured term was nowadays. Her young friend would need a good pseudonym if she was going to put this out!

Isobel carefully restored the computer to how she had found it and then left the room. She was clear and free before Zoe arrived back. The latter gave her a look of mock-frustration and a smile and then closed her door behind her.

Isobel looked after her but saw only the closed door. Amazing to think of all that was going through her young friend's mind. She turned to go back to her own room and only just noted the resumption of that strange squeaking noise.

***

Left to her own devices Isobel had got really lazy in the matter of meals. Maybe some cereals for breakfast if she bothered at all, a delivery or something real easy otherwise.

That changed when Zoe got back. The younger woman seemed to have no problem with being in the kitchen even if she wasn't too practised there. Isobel was no chef but she had practical skills and was happy to pass them on. It was nothing much but it gave her some purpose.

It helped that the younger woman was a real quick learner. Show her once and she pretty much had it. The only problem was a month of Zoe's meals would force Isobel onto a diet once the Break was over!

This morning she had found her breakfast waiting for her and Zoe almost finished. She remembered that the latter had talked about meeting some friends today. Isobel had declined an invitation to join them. Getting out of the house might be good but she didn't want to be in the way. At least that was what she told herself.

There was an anxious moment or too waiting for Zoe to leave. A relief when the younger woman left with only a small bag. Isobel had wondered a little too late if Zoe planned to do some work and would take her lap-top with her. However, that wasn't the case.

It would be a lie to say that Isobel didn't feel a little guilty. She really did like Zoe very much but that glimpse at her computer screen had been like catnip for Isobel's well-trained curiosity. Besides, didn't she have a certain responsibility to her sister and Zoe's father?

Even when she tried to be convincing on the latter fact she knew that she was lying to herself. If it had just been something a little risqué then Isobel wouldn't have thought of mentioning it to anyone. Zoe was an adult and people were allowed their fantasies and desires. Isobel certainly had her own even if they had always been carefully kept hidden from herself as well as everyone else. The stress of the last few months had helped put such things way, way, to the back of her priorities.

Until she had seen that computer screen. Some of the words there had echoed her own deepest, most repressed, fantasies. Had sent them roaring back into the front of her consciousness. Just a few words on the screen had done that and Isobel had seen enough to know that there were a lot more such words inside that computer.

In the meantime, however, she had to wait for Zoe to leave. It was somewhat humiliating to understand just how anxious she was to see some, no all, of those words. It had set a fire burning in her that she hadn't felt the like of in way too long. Or perhaps that it would have been best if she had never felt again. She wasn't sure which was true but nothing could alter the reality of the situation now. She needed to see more.

Finally, yes finally, Zoe was off with a cheery smile. Isobel waited until the vehicle was gone and then immediately dashed to Zoe's room. There was no real need for hurry. The younger woman would be gone all day. However, Isobel didn't want to wait another moment.

The lap-top was there on Zoe's desk. Isobel paused a moment to contemplate what she was about to do. It was a gross invasion of privacy, really a betrayal of a young friend, because Zoe really had become a friend. Besides, as a twenty-six year old woman she had to have more control over herself than this. She had to have learned that such impossible, foolish, desires were a waste of time and energy.

All of that went through her mind. Then she opened the lap-top.

A password screen. Shit. Of course there was a password screen!

It was ludicrous but, in a way, Isobel felt a certain sense of relief. She had sort of got used to being in control of herself, to being buttoned up. The excitement and anxiety to see inside that computer had taken over the wheel in a way that was a little disconcerting once you were out of the moment.

Next to the computer was a small notebook. Unusual given that girls of Zoe's age generally used their phone for such things. Without really thinking what she was doing Isobel picked it up and opened it.

'Passwords'

Underlined and written across the first page. Isobel turned the page and there was the word computer and 'Soph2004' written next to it.

Not the greatest password but Isobel didn't care just at that moment and she typed it into the lap-top.

No response. She had to have made a mistake. She tried again and with the same lack of success. Now she paused. Maybe this device locked after three failures. Did they still do that?

She finally took the time to leaf through the little book. Most of it was empty but three pages in from the back she found,

'P - Wfcg938gT!

L - 45DH<23%'

The bottom entry looked promising and proved to be so. The lap-top chimed and came to life. It had clearly been in sleep mode and reverted to the last thing Zoe had been looking at. Isobel recognised it immediately. She immediately spooled to the top of the document and began to read.

It was a short story of around 20 000 words. About a college student named Zoe. About her adventures or rather her misadventures. A little clunky in places but really quite well written. However, that wasn't what struck you. What really grabbed Isobel's attention was the fact that the fictional Zoe was very, very, sexually active. Active in a number of locations and scenarios but there was always a uniting theme. Isobel remembered the first words she had seen on the screen a few days before.

'Zoe squealed as Jamal began to fuck her hard. His Big Black Cock was almost too good as it plowed her fertile pussy.

"Shut the fuck up bitch," growled Jamal and his big Black hand closed over her mouth, stifling her cries.

Her eyes opened in surprise as she felt his cock rammed deep into her and then his thrusts began to slow down.

"Fuck yeah," said Jamal in a satisfied tone. "Thass good pussy."

He pulled out of her, leaving a slight string of cum between the end of his cock and her cunt.

"Hey," said Zoe, "did you cum in me?"

"Fuck yeah," confirmed Jamal. "Thass what you for ain't it bitch." He held up his softening cock covered in their combined juices. "Now clean this up ho and if you real lucky I'll give you another load of prime nigga nut 'fore long."

Zoe knew she should have insisted on a condom but his Big Black Cock had just looked so big, so powerful, so dominant. You couldn't ask him to wrap that beautiful baby-maker in latex.

But she had expected him to pull out. She'd have to get a morning-after pill.

Meanwhile, she settled down to cleaning up that beautiful Big Black Cock. It might have been her first but it wouldn't be her last. She already knew that. She already couldn't wait to earn her second load of precious Black cum.'

The rest of the story was in the same vein. 'Zoe' liked her men very dark, very dominant and very street. A succession of encounters each ending with a white pussy full of Black seed. Some rather improbable reasons as to why 'Zoe' never quite got to the pharmacy to pick up birth control or even the morning after pill.

It was obviously a work in progress but somehow Isobel could guess where the story was headed.

Now an author does not necessarily share the opinions and desires of her characters. Isobel knew that - she'd been an English Lit major after all. However, there was such a thing as a 'Mary Sue' and sharing your name with the main character was surely a serious give away.

She glanced at the clock quietly ticking on the wall. She'd been there an hour but it only felt like a minute or two. The story had captured all of her attention, all of her imagination, and she knew why. She might have consciously subjugated her sexuality but that didn't mean that it wasn't still there. That there weren't certain buttons that you could press to make nice, respectable, Isobel feel that she didn't want to be nearly so 'nice' or any sort of 'respectable'.

That made her want to be where 'Zoe' was in the story. Bent over a trash-can out back of a club while some Black stranger she'd just met fucked her hard. It'd only be better if three or four of his friends were there cheering him on, waiting their turn.

Letting her own imagination take over was a little too much for her. She undid her pants and let a hand sip down the front and inside her panties. She was wet, she had known she would be. Her fingers explored and pleasured herself as she closed her eyes to visualise herself there, being fucked by those men. She began to build up the rhythmn of her fingers and then...

She heard the squeaking, the rhythmic squeaking, that she had heard from outside Zoe's door a few days earlier. It was the chair's response to her movements. Now she knew what Zoe had been doing and the moment was broken so that she had to stop and laugh but her laugh was rather low and uncertain. She understood the significance of her discovery. She had reacted to those words on the screen just as Zoe had. It was a common bond with the younger woman that she hadn't imagined existing.

She would have assumed that Zoe had found the story but for its unfinished status. Had found it, enjoyed it and kept it. That would have been clear enough proof. However, she knew that Zoe had not simply found the story. She had written it herself. Some still waters clearly ran very deep indeed.

Isobel closed the document and checked out the icons on the laptop screen. There were plenty of folders and she checked out two or three but only found routine college work.

Isobel sat back in the chair and pondered. Better to work smart than to work hard. She recalled the name of the story and searched for it. Sure enough a likely file appeared and she scanned its properties.

On the lap-top there was a folder called 'Old Projects' and in that another called 'Lecture Notes' and inside that a third called 'Statistics' that led to a fourth named 'Plus'. Only on opening that could you discover a final folder called 'SSS'. What that stood for Isobel had no idea but she soon discovered its contents.

In one folder named 'st' she found stories. Hundreds of stories in all sorts of formats but apparently with a central defining theme. Black men and white women. A cursory scan of the titles showed that. How long had Zoe been collecting all of these?

There were two other folders in 'SSS'. The first said 'logs' which wasn't promising. The second was titled 'v'. That seemed more promising and it duly delivered row upon row of video files all with numerical titles.

Isobel clicked on the first one a clip named '24-158 part 1'.

The voice was deep but given a certain edge by pleasure and perhaps excitement.

A piece of paper appeared on the screen showing a date written in marker pen. The date shown was only a couple of days earlier. Below the date a dark finger held in place a driving license from their state. The picture showed a blonde young woman quite clearly while her name and address had been blurred. Also sharp and clear was the woman's date of birth. She was still a couple of months off being able to go to a bar in their city. Happily, they weren't planning on going to a bar and twenty was old enough for what they had planned in any state of the union...

***

There were a lot of clips and Isobel had little doubt that they were also variations on a theme. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do in this situation. However, she did know what she wanted to do. She went to her room and found a memory stick. It was a decently sized one but it still took three trips and a lot of downloading and uploading to get the contents of 'SSS' copied into her own storage.

Half way through the last download she heard a message notification. Glancing up she saw the visual accompaniment to the tone - a simple message stating '24-158 part 2'.

She understood immediately. Zoe was being sent the video files. Had possibly been sent a lot of the stories too. What was going on here? She tried to find the source of the message but 'Manzikert' told her nothing. She had to open the message itself to find any details. A string of perhaps Cyrillic characters identified the sender's address. Was this what they meant by the dark web? She didn't know but she felt inclined to find out.

She searched 'Manzikert' on her phone but unless the sender was an eleventh-century Turk it didn't seem likely to help much. Clearly an identifier picked at random from a list of battles on wikipedia or the like.

She recalled the last thing she had seen on the video she had watched.

'Session 24-158 part ii will be available tomorrow,' scrolled onto the screen in white letters. 'Score for Madison confirmed - 10 points for a new recruit and 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

That was a potential lead. She entered the website into her phone and got - a blank screen. Not a 404 message just a blank screen.

Time had been passing. In between reading sections of stories and watching clips of videos and downloading and uploading Isobel realised it was almost time to get everything straight for Zoe's return. She did so immediately. Making sure to leave everything exactly as she had found it.

Finally Isobel was satisfied that all was in its proper place and then she went back to her own room. She had to resist the temptation to check out the copied folders. There would be time enough later for that.

***

Perhaps it was Isobel's imagination but Zoe seemed nervous when she got home. Had she fallen out with one of her friends or something. With a shock Isobel realised that she only had Zoe's word that she had been to see friends. What if she had been somewhere else entirely. Meeting a Black man. Isobel felt her heart start to beat faster. Just the very idea was worrying but also horribly exciting. The men on the clip she had watched would love to get their hands on a cute little blonde like Zoe. They might enjoy it almost as much as Zoe would.

"Are you OK Izzy?" Zoe was looking at her with a sort of nervous concern "Is everything alright?"

Isobel was ashamed of herself for letting something show. That wouldn't do. She had put herself in a self-appointed position of trust now. She had intruded herself into Zoe's secret life and that intrusion carried serious responsibilities with it. She wouldn't betray her younger friend but she also needed to try to make sure that Zoe didn't put herself in harm's way.

There was only one thing for it. She would have to find out more.

They were making dinner together when Isobel's phone went.

She recognised the number. "Hi Hayley." She tried not to notice that Zoe was watching her with a look of painful intensity. "It's your Mom," she confirmed but that didn't seem to help. Zoe always had a peaches and cream complexion but just now she looked ashen-white in the face. She cast one last agonised glance at Isobel and then left the room.

"Yes sis - Yes - Everything's OK but you were right about the back porch shingles. I got the man you suggested over to sort them out and took the oil delivery too - Who? - Well I guess he might be but he also wasn't my type - No the oil delivery driver wasn't my type either before you start asking about him." She laughed to herself at her sister. She really was incorrigible. "Well I've just been job-hunting. Apart from that its been super quiet but I've really enjoyed Zoe being here. I'll miss her when she goes back to college - Yeah sis that's all there is to report. Nothing to worry about and precious little of interest happening - We were just making dinner - You didn't know Zoe can cook?" Isobel was about to add something else but chose not to. "Anyway settle back and enjoy the Chilean sunshine. We still haven't really got the Spring sun and it's freezing up here! - Yeah - Yeah - Talk again soon."

She ended the connection and just at that moment heard a noise outside the door. A second later Zoe came back into the room. Isobel had the strongest feeling that Zoe had been listening to their call. It might just have been a coincidence of timing but the look Zoe had shot her before going out had to mean something.

"Have you hung up?" said Zoe, "I was going to ask Mom something." Was that it? Had the events of the day caused Isobel to misconstrue all of these events around the phone call. It was possible of course.

"We can ring her back." She suggested the obvious and smiled. She felt on a little too uncertain ground for the smile to be entirely natural but life with her ex-husband had made her an expert in faking it.

To her relief Zoe returned the smile, her usual youthful ebullience back in evidence. "It's no biggie. Let's finish making dinner and afterwards I can give Mom a call."

***

'There's a lot you don't know about your step-daughter.' The thought had flashed through her mind as she had talked to Hayley but she was extremely glad not to have put it into words, even words meant in fun. Especially if Zoe really had been listening.

She didn't know if Zoe had rung her Mom. Zoe had retreated to her room not long after dinner. That wasn't unusual and now Isobel had a few ideas about what kept her so busy in there. She was studying no doubt but not anything on her college curriculum.

Not that Isobel could really hold that against her friend. After all she was very much planning to do the same.

Her first discovery was that the website address that produced a blank phone screen was marginally more effective on her own lap-top. A very simple single-page website. White text on a black background.

'Standings - two weeks remaining'

Stratford 2101

Madison 2026

Heights 1975

Village 1799

Berry 1778

Fayette 930

Which told her pretty much nothing.

She opened the videos file and clicked on the most recent. There was the usual hand-written note of the date but this time posted by Heights.

The video opened sowing the interior of a parked vehicle with drill music playing. Smoke drifted across the camera lens. The camera looked out of the window to where a man could be seen.

"See," drawled a voice, "thass a homie. Watching for trouble - same as I'll be doing for him some time."

The man outside turned and signalled.

"Now thass how I likes it. Good little cracka ho right on time. So's I can serve out her prescription." The man laughed softly at his own feeble joke. "Here she is."

The woman was in her late twenties. She was tall and wore her blonde hair in a long ponytail but what you noticed first were her scrubs. She had to be a nurse or perhaps a Doctor. She smiled at the man on look-out before moving on to the vehicle and opening its door.

She smiled again. "All ready for me I see."

The camera panned down to a cock, a hard Black cock. "You want this girl?"

"Of course," she said with a sly smile and got into the vehicle, closing the door behind her. She began to push her pants down, revealing the pale athletic length of her legs. A dark hand came to rest on her pale thigh in a proprietary gesture.

She knew there wasn't time to waste. Her break only lasted so long. She had nothing under her scrub pants and she prepared to move on top of him.

"Not so fast," he drawled, "you been thinking about what I said?"

She looked at him and then glanced down to his hard cock. "Do I have to?"

"Shit girl - you don't have to do nothing. You know that. Its just that I want you to do it. Gotta represent for the Heights. Besides its no big deal and it lets our bitch be who our bitch really is."

She gave him a wry look. "Also its twenty points for the contest."

He laughed a low triumphant laugh. "Heights always has the best bitches. Won five years straight and that streak ain't stopping on our watch. One for the pie, five for in public, this will make twenty-six points in all."

She looked at him again and then made up her mind. She reached into her scrub top pocket and pulled out her work photo ID. She held it up for the camera to see.

"Preach it baby."

The woman looked at him and then nodded. "My name is Abbie Tomlinson and I'm a nurse at the St Collette Medical Center. You want my address too."

He laughed again at that, the same low pleased laugh. "Nah baby - we just won't blur your license next time we use that for ID. Now get on this Black cock like you been jonesing to since you got here."

She didn't hesitate. She just swung her leg over him and then lowered herself down onto his hard cock. The camera capturing every detail in fine HD quality.

"Ain't that better. No more hiding or worrying. Never thought you would do it mind."

She didn't answer him. She was concentrating on riding his cock. Moving herself up and down that hard dark shaft. A look of pure concentration on her pretty face.

A lock of long blonde hair escaped and swung down over her face. Automatically she reached up to tuck it back behind her ear. Light glittered from the rings on her finger.

Black hands pushed up under her scrub to and found her breasts. She gasped and put her head back, kept riding that hard Black cock.

"Yeah," he said, "fucking fine white girl titties." He moved one hand to push her garment up and reveal one. It was either naturally perfect or had been shop-bought from a very top surgeon. A long nipple stood proud and his dark fingers reached to play with it. "I want this beautiful fucker pierced so's it can carry our sign. You gonna do that for me?"

Either his words were getting to her or she was tiring a little. Her movements becoming a little more staccato. The man obviously decided it was time he took over. He dropped his hands to her hips and began posting her up and down on his cock.

Abbie really liked it. That much was obvious. She loved the feel of her man taking charge, setting the pace, fucking her like a real man fucked his white bitch. Making her feel like a slut out there in the parking lot behind the hospital, while she was supposed to be on her break. She loved it all, she relished every delicious aspect of it and all of that was immediately evident when the camera lens returned to her face.

"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." It hardly needed to be said but she said it anyway. Her eyes closed, riding that Black cock all the way to snow-bunny nirvana.

"Yeah," there was that edge to his voice. The edge that said he was enjoying this just as much - that he was getting ready to seed his woman. "Want the world knowing how much you a ho for the Heights crew?"

"Yes - I'm your slut, fuck me like your slut."

"Want the world knowing you a nigga-loving cracka slut?"

"Fuck yes - fuck yes." Now her voice told a story too. Realisation, acceptance and apparently welcome submission. She was his bitch for sure, she belonged to him and the Heights crew and she didn't care who knew it. "FUCK YESSSSS."

She howled out the last words and then she was falling down onto him but the rhythmn of his hips was unchanged, his strong hands kept moving her up and down on his cock. That remorseless rhythmn didn't break until he growled his triumph and it was obvious that he had cum deep inside her.

They shared a pause to get some oxygen back into their lungs and then his strong Black hand slapped her rounded pale butt cheek. "That fucking pussy of yours is something else. A fucking hungry pussy - wants all the nigga nut it can get."

She didn't respond verbally. She just looked at him - her light blue eyes meeting the dark brown pools of his. They both knew he had spoken the truth.

"Fucking beautiful," he said as his lens captured her cum-filled white pussy. "Thass how a Heights ho should look. Chock full o' nigga nut!"

The image captured and the creampie proved she was cleaning herself up and reaching for her scrub pants.

"How's hubby gonna feel about you going public?"

She was half-way out of the door. Half-way back to a life that she knew she had put in danger. "It doesn't matter. It was going to happen sooner or later."

She left and he laughed softly again as he saw his friend approach her and exchange a few words before she went back to work.

A card appeared for a couple of seconds before the vid clip ended. 'Score for Heights confirmed - 20 points for full ID, 5 points for public sex and 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

Isobel starred at the screen of her lap-top for a few seconds before she could gather her thoughts. The women in the clip had risked everything - her job, her marriage, her reputation. That clip was out there now. Some would say she was very brave and some would say she was very stupid. Either or both might be true but Isobel was absolutely certain of one thing. The woman had been very driven - she had known that she needed to do what she did. Whatever the consequences, whatever the cost.

How did it feel to be in that position? How did it feel to know that you had taken an irretrievable step. What was the saying, pretty much a cliché now - 'Once you go Black you don't go back'. Abbie on the video had made sure there was no safe way back for herself and Isobel thought that she understood why. Abbie didn't care. Abbie didn't want to go back and Abbie knew that she never would go back. Once you understood that it made a kind of sense.

Understandable but that didn't make it any the less shocking, any the less brutal, any the less exciting. Isobel had to admit the last part. Her body's reactions while watching the video play out had been undeniable. The thoughts rushing through her mind even now only confirmed what her body was telling her.

She didn't despise Abbie, she wasn't disgusted by Abbie, she didn't fear what had happened to Abbie. However, she was scared. Despite all of society's BS, all of the accumulated armour of twenty-six years of being a 'good respectable girl/woman', Isobel couldn't deny how she felt. Deep down, where the real her dwelled. There, in her true self, she knew that she envied Abbie and that really did scare her.

***

Disturbing thoughts but Isobel had put them to the back of her mind courtesy of reading some of the stories from Zoe's computer. All those she read involved white women or girls. Mothers, wives and daughters. Company Executives, teachers, doctors, employees and students. From all social and professional backgrounds, of all ages, from all parts of the country and from some other countries. All of them ended up with a man or woman or with a multiple of one or both. The theme could be romantic, erotic or blatantly pornographic. There could be a happy ending, an ambiguous ending or a very bleak ending. The stories told a multitude of tales and covered a multitude of themes but one thing united them all. Every one of the white female main characters went Black.

Isobel had a journalist's eye, an editor's eye. She deleted stories she didn't like or which didn't hang together as a narrative. She made a new folder for those she wanted to keep, those that deserved more than just a skim-read. It soon struck her that a defining factor in the decision of which stories to keep lay in whether or not she could see herself as the major character. Whether she could imagine herself going that same path. It was just that the last few days had rather expanded the potential range of life choices that she could see herself making - at least in her fantasies.

It startled her to look at her clock and see it was gone two in the morning. She had to go to bed but first she went to her bedside table and found her vibe. There were a couple of the stories that really needed her close attention. Then, she could go to bed.

***

"Hey Izzy - did you sleep well?"

Zoe had taken to calling her Izzy. Well, Isobel didn't mind. It wasn't like she hadn't been called worse. However, she could have done without the noise of the greeting. She had most definitely not slept well. Quite apart from hitting the sheets so late she had spent a mostly restless night of intensely vivid dreams fuelled by what she had seen and what she had read.

Music was coming out of Zoe's room - which was unusual for her. Not that she didn't sometimes listen but this was jacked up pretty loud. It also most definitely wasn't her usual female singer-songwriter. She was about to ask her friend nicely to turn it down a little when she realised that she recognised the music. She wasn't pretending to be any sort of an expert on drill but a certain lyric was very recognisable. It was the song from the video that she had watched the previous night The man from the Heights had been playing it in his vehicle while he was waiting for Abbie.

"That's an, um, different kind of song." She tried to sound casual.

Zoe smiled and swayed her hips in time to the beat. "I heard it yesterday and I thought it was fire so I found it on spotify. You like it?"

"I'm not sure its really my thing."

"I used to think that," smiled Zoe, "but now I'm kinda getting into the urban sound."

The comment was made quite casually and Isobel watched her friend for any sign of a deeper significance. There was none - it was apparently just a simple comment about musical taste. However, that pause allowed the music's lyrics to fill the silence

"Your fly white bitch

you can't scratch her itch.

I got her in furs,

her mind in a blur.

Make that pink pussy purr

Till my baby's in her."

Isobel's reaction must have shown on her face. There was no missing the delight in Zoe's giggled response. "Hey that's just the sound - the image you know. Lil Stir kind of sings a lot about white girls. You should look him up Izzy - it's kinda cool. Anyway breakfast's on the table and I'm out of here. Supposed to be going out to the paddocks with Jess."

The moment the front door clicked shut Isobel felt the desire to check out Zoe's lap-top. To see if she had received anything new. It took all of her self-control just to eat her breakfast, do the washing up and set the kitchen to order. Then she could resist no longer.

The background to Zoe's laptop had changed. Now it showed a young African-American man in a B-Ball shirt leaning against a Bugatti. His grimace showed a gold grill on his teeth and he had long lank dreadlocks hanging down over his eyes. The ink of crude tattoos was visible on his face and covered his arms. He held up a flaming $100 bill apparently in the process of lighting what looked like a startlingly large joint.

It didn't take a genius to work out who that was but 'Lil Stir' was on the Bugatti's plate for the hard of thinking. All in all if you wanted a poster boy for what scared the shit out of the white moms of Middle America then you had it right there. Which, Isobel realised, was exactly the point.

Neither Lil Stir nor his music did much for Isobel. She had a liking for some of the older r'n'b and hip-hop though she couldn't pretend to be an expert. Drill she could do without.

She found a couple of new stories and a new clip. White she was downloading them she heard the notification sound again. Presumably a message had come through since the lap-top had been closed down. This time she saw the notification and clicked it.

'I'll be on at 9 PM tonight. Be there.' The sender was, once again, a string of meaningless characters.

Isobel turned off the computer having retrieved the information. She was just leaving the room when she noticed Zoe's clothes closet door was open. On the ground level under the hanging coats and clothes was a large trunk and some objects were on its lid. In that one glance Isobel noticed what they were.

No-one could ever have called Isobel a prude. Absolutely not. She was well aware that sex toys existed and in fact in her own room she had a little vibrating pink number very similar to the one visible on the trunk. However, she didn't have the six-inch black dildo that was next to it and she most definitely did not have the third item. She could not resist and moved across the room to tentatively pick up the large box with 'Julius Flint II' emblazoned on its side. A swift glance showed that the box didn't contain a lot of padding as she had assumed. Just a very, very, large Black sex toy. The idea of anyone using something that big was pretty startling let alone a little slip of a thing like Zoe.

Her young friend must have been in a hurry or perhaps she had been tired last night. Not only had she left her toys in view but the padlock that was used to lock the trunk had not been secured. That message had set Isobel's mind racing. Just who was it that was making a virtual date with her friend? Presumably the same person sending her all of the interracial erotica and porn but who could tell? Zoe was living a double life it seemed and wasn't it Isobel's responsibility to make sure she didn't get into any trouble she couldn't get out of?

Even as she thought those justifications through Isobel knew that they were as phony as a three-dollar bill. She knew why she was doing this and it had nothing to do with looking after Zoe. Zoe wasn't a naive ingénue. She was a modern and intelligent young woman and generally speaking she could look after herself. In any case no matter what might be said here once back at college Zoe would get up to exactly whatever she liked. No, Isobel wasn't doing this to protect her friend. She was spying on Zoe because she wanted to know everything that was going on. Not to write a story or to betray her friend's secrets but because she, Isobel, found it all incredibly exciting. It had reignited that fire within her that a failed marriage had seemed to have extinguished. She felt alive again, herself again. Something that developed with each new discovery. She couldn't turn back now.

Isobel looked at the trunk with its temptingly open lock. Her instincts told her that there were more secrets concealed inside. It had also been pure luck that Zoe had left it unsecured. That was unlikely to happen again. This could be Isobel's one and only chance to see inside.

Curiosity. It had a reputation for being hazardous to the feline health. Trunks were a sort of box and as the case of Pandora showed it could be much better to leave such things firmly closed when you had no reason to be prying in there. These things were proverbial and proverbs got to be proverbs because they had a lot of truth behind them. The logical, sensible, side of Isobel knew all of that and she was thinking hard as she looked down at that unopened box. An unequal struggle was fought out between doing the right thing and finding out just what was in that trunk. It was fierce indeed but only lasted about five seconds.

Then Isobel carefully moved the sex-toys aside and opened the trunk.

She was initially rather disappointed. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected to find but in fact she discovered what she probably should have predicted. Clothing.

On top was a long sleeved-yellow top. Isobel didn't like the color much but, thinking what to do next, she picked it up out of the trunk. On the front was a design. A solid black 'spade' just as you would see on a playing card. On the left above the symbol was a 'Q' also in black. Now at least she understood the vivid yellow - it was ensuring maximum contrast with that symbol. Making sure that no-one missed it. Of course not everyone would understand it.

But Isobel did. She had heard of the idea of a 'Queen of Spades'. She put the top aside and found another. This one was short-sleeved with black shoulders but a white body that showed off wonderfully the large symbol that would be worn across the chest. Again that black Spade from a playing card but this time with a white Q within it. Below that was the same logo but on a crop-to that would barely cover a woman's breasts.

Did Zoe wear these? If so then it could only really be at college. They were too blatant, too obvious. Anyone understanding that logo would also know the nature of Zoe's fantasies. Assuming, of course, that they were only fantasies. The African-American population in her family's suburb was slim-to-none but that wasn't true of the city where Zoe went to college. Far from it. Wear those shirts in public there and fantasises would very rapidly become reality. They might already have done so.

Isobel felt the excitement surging through her, her heart beating and pumping the adrenaline around her body. Not for fight or flight - purely to fuck. To fuck as she could imagine Zoe doing if she wore those tops over in the city. She imagined it a little too clearly and felt guilty at doing it but only for a moment. Zoe clearly knew just what she wanted and apparently knew how to get it.

Was that why the tops were here? Did Zoe perhaps not trust herself if she took them to the city? Here they were a tease, a naughty pleasure, a suggestion of what might be. There they would be a blatant invitation and one that many men would be very ready to take up.

Another fact clicked into place and Isobel was disappointed that she hadn't thought of it before. She had been surprised when she had found out where Zoe had gone to College. Not that the institution itself was not extremely prestigious. It certainly was - it was known world-wide in fact. However, the city in which it was located had quite the different reputation. Did anyone even use its real name anymore besides its Mayor and its Police Department? Most everyone else just called it 'H-Town'. Some folk might try to argue differently but it was called that because of a Heroin epidemic that had raged through it in the early 1980s. Such tragedies had still been worthy of note then and so everyone with the means to do so had got the hell out as fast as they could.

Leaving behind, of course, those that couldn't move and that meant, in H-Town at least, almost all African-Americans. Then the city had been left to rot - probably no coincidence but Isobel wasn't sure of all of the ins and outs of that. She just knew that H-Town had a real bad reputation. It was kind of like the Little Stir of cities. It scared good little boys and girls and made them pleased that however bad shit got at least they weren't in H-Town. Attitudes that first the press, then TV and nowadays the purveyors of social media bullshit had spent decades carefully locking into place.

Isobel began checking out the rest of the trunk. Another top with a pattern made up entirely of that Queen of Spades symbol. Then another with QOS emblazoned across it. Most folk might not notice them but if you knew the meaning then the message was blatant. Again Isobel wondered just how it would feel to wear such clothing out in public.

Next up was a thin white dress. Zoe was a few inches shorter than her and a little less curvy but that didn't mean Isobel couldn't hold it up against her body. It was held up by thin straps but that scoop top would reveal a lot of cleavage. Even on Zoe the material would end well above the knee and it was stretchy, it would cling. This was not a dress that you wore if you had any modesty even if you didn't take into account the design on its front.

Isobel had become used to giving into temptation ever since she had first entered this room without Zoe's knowledge. Now the lure of new experience again proved too strong. She needed to know how it felt to wear something like this. She stripped off her clothes down to her underwear and then pulled the dress over her head.

It certainly did hug the figure - showing off every curve, almost every detail, of her body. She went and checked herself out in Zoe's full-length mirror and immediately saw a problem. The dress showed everything - including her bra straps and panty line. That was no good and she knew what had to be done.

Perhaps a minute later she was back in front of the mirror. The ugly bra straps were gone and replaced as a focus of attention by two well-defined bumps where her nipples were hard, stimulated by the feel of the dress's material. The scoop top did indeed show her cleavage off to wonderful effect. Was it bitchy to rejoice that she had a little more to show off in that department than Zoe did. Probably - but Isobel did it anyway. It was impossible not to feel very sexy and very naughty in this dress. Not just because of her cleavage either.

Her panty-line had disappeared of course but whereas the dress would end halfway up Zoe's thigh it was rather higher on Isobel A little experimentation showed that any serious movement saw the dress ride up and leaning over would leave no-one in any doubt that she was going commando. 'I'll have to wear a thong with this,' she immediately thought before remembering that it wasn't her dress.

In fact the only chance a man might not notice her lack of underwear was because his focus was on her breasts and Isobel again enjoyed just how good she looked in this dress. She couldn't claim to be overly-developed up there but it showed off her cleavage and the curve of her breasts to the maximum. She felt a twinge of pleasure as she realised just how much Black guys would love that. White guys too probably - except for that design right below her cleavage.

The Spade logo with 'QOS' inside it had in bold Black lettering around the design the words, 'For Black Use Only'. White boys wouldn't like that at all but Isobel loved it. Loved how just the fantasy of being out in public wearing that dress made her feel, the mere concept of a Black man seeing her wearing it. His reaction - what it might lead to. Had Zoe done that? She couldn't believe so. It was just too daring, too explicit, too taboo.

She didn't like applying that last word but facts were facts. It wasn't her fault that so many people had a real problem with the mere concept of one person being with another. That society tried to make people deny their own desires. Something that only ended up, in many cases, reinforcing them. Adding a certain spice to what was already a delicious prospect.

That word 'Use' on the shirt was the same. Logically she knew that was something nobody should get behind. However, the top and its design were made to shock. To push boundaries and perhaps even feed into a sort of BDSM. Hadn't that been what was happening on the first video she had seen? She could certainly understand how that could be... interesting. Or did she mean enticing?

She admired the dress in the mirror again. Turned to see the swell of her hips and her butt. The dress was really tight there, blatantly drawing the eye to the curve of her buttocks. Normally that would be an issue with a dress. Here, given the intended audience, it was most definitely a selling point,

She walked across to her room having to pull down the dress every couple of steps. Until she remembered she was alone in the house. She found her camera and returned to the mirror to snap two or three images of herself. Each with her phone carefully positioned to block out her face.

The door-bell rang and almost had her jumping out of her skin. Immediately afterwards came two raps on the front door. She knew what that meant. The mail-man needing a signature. She dashed across to her room and found a sweater to cover her top's design.

Then across to the front door.

It was the regular mail-man, Fifties, bearded, already in cargo shorts though Spring was only this Morning deigning to make much of an appearance. She apologised for the delay. He smiled and proffered the parcel.

A quick glance showed that it was for Zoe. No great surprise - it was almost a daily occurrence. She signed and he was on his way. As she closed the door Isobel again felt that rush of excitement, of daring. Her long sweater had covered the dress completely but she had still been wearing it. In public - or at least in front of someone. She laughed to herself and decided that the dress had to go back where it had come from!

She did just that but not until she had checked out the last two items in the chest. A last top - this time with 'White Slut Training Academy' on it. Then beneath it a thong - just perfect for wearing with the dress as Isobel subconsciously realised. It was all-white save for a pattern of small lettering stitched into its band.

'P - R - O - S - P - E - C - T.' With that ubiquitous Queen of Spades symbol framing it at both ends and the letters repeated on the back.

Isobel carefully replaced the clothing back into the chest. Then she put the sex-toys on top of them and closed the lid. She had to consciously stop herself clicking the padlock shut. That just seemed natural but she couldn't be sure that Zoe did not know how she had left it.

***

A roar of noise came out of her speakers but her screen was dark, only illuminated by episodic quick flashes of light that illuminated vague moving shapes. A club and people dancing. She knew that much and followed the camera as it moved through the space. On and on until it met a door and emerged out into light, the music reduced to a muffled but still very present sound. This was some sort of a small foyer with opposite them an unmarked door. A young African-American man was leaning next to it with a foot against the wall. He certainly wasn't club security but he also showed no nervousness about being there. He made a signal to the man with the camera and a dark hand pushed the door open.

You could still hear the music but very muffled now and the lighting was that harsh brightness you only found in places like this. The door clanked shut behind the cameraman. It was a small room - clearly a staff wash-room. A couple of basins, a mirror on the wall and a coupe of cubicles. One was closed and a noise came from within. The camera was raised up the wall of the cubicle and then allowed to slip between its top and the ceiling.

The man looked up. His features were blurred but it was obvious that he was Black. "You fucker," he said to the phone, "door's fucking open - don't need none of that fucking detective shit."

There was a laugh, presumably from the man with the phone, then it swung down and round. However, there had been time enough to take in the scene. A big man standing in the cubicle. On her knees in front of him a white girl. His dark fingers entwined in her beach-blonde hair. Holding her just where he wanted her while she was sucking his cock.

With his free hand he reached for her bag where it stood on the old-fashioned toilet's tank. He fished around for a few seconds and then pulled out her driver's license.

"Time to represent girl. Now all you niggas out there better put it on record - this bop is the bomb. She's getting free admission any time she likes. She that good. Wish you could find out how good our girl here is man."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in you lucky old bastard." The man with the phone wasn't laughing now.

It was very hard to tell the age of the man getting the blow-job. He certainly didn't look particularly old - mid-thirties at the most and he certainly looked after himself. Even clothed you could tell he was a big man, muscular and toned.

Now he tapped the girl on her shoulder and gestured. She got to her feet and he spun her round, at the same time letting his pants slip the rest of the way downto his ankles. He casually steeped one foot outside them to give himself space. "Feeling generous tonight man - show my friend here how you roll baby."

A glimpse of her looking up as she undid the man with the phone's pants. A smile on her face and bright blue eyes seeming to shine in that tired old rest-room. Pale hands finding and stroking his cock. Not the proverbial Big Black Cock but she didn't seem bothered. Average was just fine so long as it was Black.

Her expression changed for a moment as the man behind her pushed up her short skirt and moved in close. He shifted his position and then eased forward.

"Fuck yeah," she said and then dropped her mouth down onto the cock in front of her.

Neither man needed telling twice. The man fucking her had his hand clenched in her skirt at the small of her back. Powerful dark thighs powering his cock into her pussy. His other hand reached under her. From her muffled response you could tell where that was. Muffled because the second man's cock was in her mouth and just maybe she was as good as the first man had said. Even getting fucked good and hard she was still paying due attention to the cock in her mouth. All the spit and tongue any man could wish for.

"Shit brotha - where did you find this piece. She is fucking good."

"Always sweet when College is in session. No shortage round here but this one is real good. Might let her stay round if she keeping playing so well. You want that girl?"

Another muffled sound. It might have been 'yes' but there was an average Black cock currently occupying her mouth.

A Black hand came down on her bared white butt-cheek with a resounding crack. "I said do you want that girl?"

She finally let the man with the phone's cock out of her mouth for a moment.

"Yes daddy - now fuck me!"

He laughed a deep, rolling, laugh and slapped her ass again. A second pink set of his finger-prints showing on her pale skin. "I ain't your daddy girl but if you ain't on the pill I'm gonna be your baby-daddy. Just remember that girl. Pussy like this gets my nut - every time - you can swallow my man's there."

His little speech was delivered with a breathy tone. Spaced out by his hard thrusts into the girl. Intent concentration in every fibre of his being even if you couldn't see his face.

"You want that?" She asked the cameraman as she gave a youthful almost angelic smile up into the lens.

He pushed her head back down onto his cock. "Keep sucking - you'll soon find out."

They weren't there for a marathon of blissful romantic love-making. They were there to get their nut and the man doing her doggy-style was getting close. Fucking with a purpose and finally signalling his climax with only a growled, '"Fuck." The girl wiggled her butt as she felt him cum in her but very carefully not quite enough to stop him putting all his seed in her.

The sight was too much for the man with the phone. He eased back and wanked a couple of hard strokes before shooting his cum onto her waiting tongue. It pooled there until she was sure he was done and then she swallowed it down with a smile.

"Didn't I tell you - this one is something else. Fucking knows what she was made for." The first man showed his approval as the girl cleaned off his cock with her tongue.

"Just as advertised - premium product for sure." The man with the phone was still watching her with hungry eyes as she prepared to leave and her every movement showed that she knew it and relished the fact.

"Yeah girl - you earned your free admittance. Now us men gotta talk so..."

She knew it was her dismissal and paused only to ask. "Would it be OK for me to come back in here again?"

The big man only laughed. "Sure - any time but I might be busy. If I am then you and (a tone obscured the name) here can renew acquaintance. I also got plenty of other friends will be keen to meet you after seeing this. Still interested?"

She had taken it all in her stride. Maybe alcohol or something else had greased the wheels. However, his words seemed to break through the pretence she had been putting up. For a moment she was who she really was - a college girl in a dirty back room with two strange African-American men. You could see it - or was that just in the mind of the viewer? Either way - even if there was hesitation it was momentary. "Yes please," she said politely.

The man with the phone put his arm around her and drew her close. It was hard to see but you knew he was kissing her, deep and hard. "Don't keep us waiting - I want that fucking pussy."

A few moments later the door banged behind her as she left.

"Don't little white bitches as fine as her get free admission anyway?"

"You know it and I know it but you want to know the best thing?"

"What?"

"She knows it too."

The two men laughed again and the screen cut to its end-card.

'Score for Berry confirmed - 10 points for a new recruit, 20 points for a full ID and 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

'For Black Use Only'. Isobel remembered the words on the dress she had found in Zoe's closet. The girl in the clip had been 'used' but that didn't mean she hadn't got what she wanted out of it too and what she had wanted most certainly hadn't just been free admission - no matter how good the club was.

***

"Yeah - it was fun."

It had to have been. Zoe had been away rather longer than Isobel had expected. Not that it had been a problem. She had planned to do some more job-hunting but the lure of those folders on her lap-top had proved too much. She had watched four more videos and had read another thirty-plus stories. Her trusty little pink vibe was getting more action now than in a long time.

They ate dinner together and talked about the West Coast. Zoe was interested and Isobel had, or course, just returned from there. She tried to be honest without sounding like the California Tourist Board. In truth she had learned that it was how you felt that mattered. If you were miserable then the best place on earth seemed like a hell-hole. If you were happy when you could put up with a lot and barely notice it.

Having cleared the kitchen Isobel expected Zoe to head to her room. However, this evening was a little different. Zoe wasn't usually hesitant to speak out but this was one of those occassions.

Isobel tried to keep her tone light. "Is everything OK? Can I help?"

She half-expected Zoe to come clean and spill the beans - if that wasn't mixing too many clichés in a fine old gumbo. Instead, Zoe surprised her.

"Izzy do you ever, you know, sort of feel unhappy about how you look?"

It was hardly rare in a young woman - a lack of confidence in her appearance. Frankly, Zoe had nothing to worry about on that score.

"Everyone does - but it doesn't last and if you have a problem just go look in the mirror. I wish I had your hair instead of mine and no-one can tell me that you aren't beautiful. Has anyone been giving you problems?"

It was hard to imagine that anyone had. Zoe had been particularly blessed in terms of bone-structure and body-type. Her face had a perfect harmonious symmetry to it and she had emerged unscathed from puberty with flawless skin. Perhaps that was the issue. There was a fashion for mahogany tans now and Zoe was like her whole family, very much a peaches and cream girl. Well - that was much better for the skin in the medium and long term and besides Isobel was a little biased being a natural redhead herself with the usual very fair skin-tone that accompanied that.

"No it's just something I've been thinking about for a while. I just, you know, wish..." She gestured with her hands and then finally came out with it. "I've been really seriously thinking about getting an enlargement."

Another surprise. It wasn't as if Zoe was flat-chested. Someone had to have been getting into her ear about this. Or was it just the media's constant barrage of images of supposed perfection? "You really don't need it but why do you want one? Just to look better for guys? Its a serious operation with weeks of recuperation and discomfort or pain. That is if you can even find a surgeon who you can trust not to make a mess of it. I'm not saying its a bad idea but you would need to be really sure, you would need to do you homework and or course," she looked at Zoe with a meaningful gaze, "you'd need the money. Maybe $10 000 for a surgeon you can trust. Something tells me your parents wouldn't be funding you."

Zoe nodded her acknowledgement of the last point. "That's true but the rest of it is no problem. I've been thinking about it a lot and it's definitely what I want. We even have one of the best surgeons in the world almost here on our doorstep. Look up the Nikola Clinics sometime." She paused, looked intently at Isobel and then decided to go on. "Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"No," lied Isobel and the lie caught in her throat. Strangely perhaps. She had betrayed her younger friend's trust on several occassions now but those betrayals seemed made inevitable, beyond her control, by the sheer power of temptation. Lying to Zoe's face, in cold blood as you might say, was something else entirely. She regretted it and corrected herself. "OK - well I can't say I never have."

She saw Zoe seem to relax a little. Her friend had sensed the lie. Isobel might be better equipped up there than Zoe but at 5'5" she was also two or three inches taller and Isobel had been a late developer. Through many of her school days the fact that she was a 'ginger' had vied for infamy with a very obvious membership of the 'itty bitty titty club.' She had known there were solutions to both 'issues' but she had not dyed her hair - or at least had not kept it dyed. Just as she had also not had a breast enlargement but that didn't mean she hadn't thought about it. Considered it and then come to the conclusions that she had just recycled as advice for Zoe.

"Let's just say that I would need a really good reason to actually go ahead with something like that."

Now Zoe smiled and changed the subject. Isobel didn't really know what to take away from that but it wasn't for her to lecture Zoe, let alone to refuse permission. She would have to trust to the younger woman's inherent good sense.

The subject was allowed to lie while they talked about other matters. However, Zoe seemed a little distracted and ultimately Isobel noted her friend glancing at the clock three times in fifteen minutes. That was immediately followed by her deciding to retreat to her room. The clock registered ten minutes to nine and Isobel remembered the message she had seen on her friend's computer. Clearly Zoe had found it and acted upon it.

***

The camera moved as its owner carried it. Through one room and into another. This was obviously the kitchen and a young woman with long brown hair was attending to the stove.

"Damn - but that's good." He put the camera down with a good angle of vision and then moved forward.

"Your hungry," she giggled as she felt his lips at her neck and his hands on her butt.

"Real hungry," he confirmed and his hands eased her shorts down her tanned legs.

He nuzzled her neck and she arched her back against his bigger body.

"Your beard tickles," she giggled but that just renewed his teasing of her. His hand slipped down the front of her body and he was rewarded with a gasp and a smile.

"I'm cooking breakfast." This complaint was even less seriously delivered.

"Good because I'm working up an appetite." He began to move her along the work-top and barely left her time to adjust the heat of the stove. Once they had a clear space in front of them he pulled his hard cock over the top of his sweat-pants and then moved up close behind her,

"Hhhhhhmmmn," purred the girl. Even the mock protests were gone now.

His big body dwarfed her and seemed ready to crush her against the edge of the work-table but he knew better than that. His arm around her waist spun her and then he lifted her as if she was made of nothing and gently placed her upon the work-surface.

She laughed and then his dark, bearded, face was buried between her legs. Making sure she was ready for him. She gripped the short dark hair on his head and laughed as he reminded her of his talents. Her laughter was his signal.

He stepped back a pace. His Big Black Cock was prominent, standing hard and proud in front of him. He looked at the young woman and smiled, the smile of a cat about to get the cream. She edged her legs further apart - an invitation hardly necessary between them. This wasn't their first time together.

The man moved forward and taking a firm hold moved her to the edge of the work-surface. He was a big man in every way. Well over six foot and that surface had her at just the right height. Perhaps by accident but this was a man who planned in advance. He retraced his step forward and this time their bodies met and united.

After his first few exploratory strokes he settled into a rhythmn. That rhythmn didn't break as he hooked his arms under her shoulders and lifted her off the hard work-surface. It still didn't stop when he picked her up and held her, his hips and powerful thighs pushing himself deep into her with every thrust.

There was neither time nor inclination for small-talk now. The couple were bound together in an age-old ritual. Showing their desire for each other through every movement, every gasp, every shared moment as heir eyes locked. They kissed deeply as if they would never need to breath again - but still that rhythm didn't break or hesitate.

Finally she broke the kiss and gasped for breath, laid her head on his shoulder and gripped his body hard with her arms and legs. He felt that and knew it for the signal that it was. He stepped up his pace and concentrated on getting his nut. First claiming her pussy with each solid thrust and then with a heavy load of his Black seed.

She laughed as she felt him cum - a laugh of pure pleasure and joy. The joy of a young woman who knew the power that her beauty gave her with a man, even a man as powerful as this one.

He set her back down on her feet with an easy motion. Was he really so strong that he hadn't even felt her weight as he fucked her? The girl was only about Zoe's size but still.

"Oh shit!" The girl suddenly seemed to remember. "The breakfast!"

His laugh was a low rumble of pleasure. He watched for a moment and then added, "Is it saveable baby?"

"Just about - no thanks to you," she was smirking as she mock-scolded him again.

"Entirely down to me," he corrected her, "I'm a man knows there's lots of pretty girls but you find one that can cook then you gotta pick her." He laughed again as he dodged the cloth thrown in his general direction.

He retrieved his camera and centred her in its lens.

She saw him do it and knew the reason. "They all know who I am. Grace Masters for the Village. Represent!" She stuck her tongue out at him and began plating up their meal as the screen went black.

'Score for Village confirmed - 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV. com for the latest confirmed score.'

Isobel noted the different nature of this clip. They had seemed more like a couple than a pair of strangers. They knew each other and knew each other's bodies. She had already worked out that the contest, or whatever it was, played out over six months. How many times had they been together? How many times had she identified herself? There was an attachment there even if Isobel doubted it would ever be a standard relationship. The way the pair interacted wasn't quite like that - but who knew?

Something else struck her too. Those comments about always picking a girl who could cook. Isobel knew that Zoe had seen this video at least once, maybe many more times. Was it crazy to link that to Zoe's new-found desire to learn to cook?

***

It was a good thing that Zoe still had so many friends in the area. It meant that she was out with one or the other of them almost every day. Something that was extremely advantageous for anyone wanting access to her lap-top since whatever she was doing she never took it with her

This time Isobel only found one new file - left carelessly on the main screen without being filed away in a folder. It was named '25Log10' and the word 'Log' took her attention to the folder 'Logs'.

She had taken a copy of it of course. However, early on she had checked and found all apparently empty bar one. That one had a password protection and unsurprisingly the log in password did not work. She had contemplated deleting the whole folder but once she had lost a week's work by not checking the size of the supposedly empty folders she was deleting. Once caught that way you learned better!

There certainly was something there and Isobel had decided not to delete it. Now, however, she had a 'Log' file available and she eagerly clicked on it. She swore with unusual vehemence as a password prompt appeared. However, this time she was on Zoe's computer and almost immediately another prompt appeared.

'Use saved Password?'

Isobel clicked 'Yes' and a password was automatically entered. She clicked to see the entered password and immediately knew that she was on the right track.

'ManzikertZoe'.

It still might not work of course. She tried to temper her triumph but a single click told her the truth as the video opened with no further issues.

The image filled half of the screen and was divided in half vertically. One side of the image was dark. The other was lit but shown only a literal desk-top, the grain of a stained wood surface. There was movement and hand with four heavy gold rings came into view. The hand obviously belonged to an African-American man.

"Hey girl - ain't I told you punctuality is important!" His voice was serious but also had the tone used by a man repeating something for the umpteenth time.

"I'm here," responded a immediately familiar voice. The other half of the screen became illuminated and revealed the face of Zoe.